Time is a luxury we no longer possess

Space Tourism Chronicles

The Slingshot Saga

Time is a luxury we no longer possess

Our battered Subi spacecraft, a relic in the night Flickering erratic, its core a dying light On Primary Trade Lane Delta-Nine, a river of light so grand But cycles bled away, draining across the land BK slumped, pale and strained, JB with eyes closed in despair Time a luxury we no longer possessed, consumed by cosmic air.

Transcript from the Slingshot Saga - Time is a luxury we no longer possess

Our goddamn battered Subi spacecraft, a damn relic lost in the endless black void! Flickering like a dying firefly on the edge of extinction, its core barely clinging to life like some stubborn, flickering candle about to blow out. We’re stuck on Primary Trade Lane Delta-Nine, that blazing river of cosmic light stretching for eons, yet every damn cycle just bleeds away, sucking the lifeblood right out of this forsaken stretch of space. BK is slumped over, looking paler than a ghost at a midnight séance, and JB? Eyes shut tight, drowning in the kind of despair that could swallow whole galaxies. Time? Ha! Time’s a cruel joke we can’t afford anymore — it’s been devoured by the endless void of this cosmic nightmare. What the hell are we even doing out here?

No stopping in uncharted space

No "stop and revive" in this perilous, uncharted space. The Rumour Mill's comfort is a memory, lost to time and trace. The exorbitant demand is a punch right to the gut. Our savings drained, our journey's hope, behind a costly shut.

Transcript from the Slingshot Saga - No stopping in uncharted space

Coming to a complete stop in the heart of uncharted space? Absolutely not! There’s no “pause and reboot” functionality available in this terrifying, vast void that feels like it stretches into eternity. The once-cozy Rumour Mill? That sweet little sanctuary has transformed into nothing more than a haunting ghost story, vanished without a trace, leaving us to grapple with the chilling emptiness around us.

The demands we face are crashing into us like a freight train on steroids, relentlessly draining every last cent we had carefully stashed away for a rainy day. Yet, amidst this chaos, we stand resolute, tougher than nails and ignited by a fierce, unstoppable hope that illuminates the surrounding darkness like a brilliant supernova. 

No matter how overwhelming the cost may be, we are hurtling headfirst into the unknown, driven by a fierce determination—because quitting? That word doesn't even exist in our lexicon.

Slingshot into an anomaly

But Katcha's mind intertwined with Subi, a final desperate plea, "A predictive model for a slingshot to the anomaly!" "Best case, worst case": a gamble to save everything we hold dear, with a 45% chance of structural damage, battling hope and fear. To that faint, almost imperceptible energy signature, we must fly, A needle in a cosmic haystack, beneath this silent sky.

Transcript from the Slingshot Saga - Slingshot into an anomaly

In his final, desperate moments, Katcha's thoughts inextricably linked with Subi's, a fervent whisper echoing in the vast emptiness: "We need a predictive model for a slingshot maneuver towards the anomaly!" This was it, their last resort, a calculated risk that weighed the best possible outcome against the direst consequences. 

The odds were against them, a precarious 45% chance of severe structural damage to their vessel, a chilling statistic that battled fiercely with the burning ember of hope within their hearts. 

Their target: a faint, almost imperceptible energy signature, a solitary beacon in the cosmic void. They had to reach it, a daunting task akin to finding a needle in an impossibly vast, cosmic haystack, all beneath the silent, indifferent gaze of the endless sky.

The Necropolis Corridor

The Necropolis Corridor, a black scar across the vast space Dense fields of derelict ship hulls, a haunting, grave-like place Rogue asteroids, pockets of temporal distortion, where systems interfere "Where All Machines Must Die", the chilling truth, draws ever near Uncharted Space, a labyrinth of hazards, dark and cold Careful, manual course adjustments, stories yet untold.

Our bio-engineered companion

Katcha hunched at the nav-console, her fingers flying across holographic displays Her iridescent blue furcatching light, through the critical days "Scan Delta-Nine traffic" for an escape, a way to break free For our bio-engineered companion, integral to mission, is she "Subi, it's unstable," the AI rasped, its voice now almost gone This detour of boundless curiosity, pushing us till the dawn.

Podcast: 

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLXaHuXMcUMrhIzfjKlj9clJCOfOlb5B5B

Playlist:

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLXaHuXMcUMrgi9Vms3dSNvqYUCqfQENoS

#art #Spacestation #scifi #fictionalworld #story #arthouse #futuristic #spaceadventure  #Sanctuary #Revitalisation #Retro #art #metaart

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