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From: UFV Downeaster

Position: 21.30, -88Z.28, -357.4Y

Departure: 2120.13.10

Reldate: 00229889

Source: A321.8S9.H1A.0900

Destination: A321.78C.00A.1001

Seckey: aPSK42bYhZ09JCX0i2xm9ktyUGk4gJnOsz7P+iBC/4g=

Mode: COMM

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LOG ENTRY #90

I remember once thinking that time was the enemy -- there's never enough. Here,

I expected celestial objects to take my breath away and make time even more

precious. There's nothing but time now.

I also remember reading about the first Terran astronauts, floating in hacked

together treehouses in low-Earth orbit, their schedules planned to the minute.

No time to waste when it costs the GDP of a small nation to keep you at 17k

km/s and only technically in space; barely out of atmo.

Given the choice, I bet those cowboys would have loved to change places with me.

Here, travelling near the speed of light, a dot of rock somewhere on our

electronic horizon, a mission to strip it of all it's precious metals so we can

keep the fab going at least one more generation. But I'm not gonna lie to this

log, I would change places those fucking cowboys in a heartbeat, too. This

isn't the wild west. And it's not low-Earth orbit either. Our schedules are wide

open until we make contact and beat the living shit out this miserable rig

hoping it's dark sleep hasn't caused something else to die.

No, I'm not happy today. But that doesn't really matter. S-8S9.H1A.0900 is

locked in front of us and we'll spend the next six months trying to slow us down

enough to do what we're paid to do. Part of me hopes this message gets lost in

the QEC shit hole. I've probably already been too honest for CentOps comfort.

Mission parameters nominal. Target signal strong. ETOA 6.2 terran months.