There's no place like home

[Jazzi]

There's No Place Like Home
Dr. T.Thorn

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A finger dressed in a brown leather glove presses on the button of a silver coloured switch and pulls it upwards Moving to the left, it's four compatriots and itself curl around a the stainless steel bar of a throttle and push forwards. A rumbling roar reverberates through the ship as four T-96-E Kyorestsu engines fire up in a furious clap of thunder. Heisenberg Research Station falls away, shrinking with each second, as the bridge speakers kick in. Voyager. Key Puncher.

With course plotted, the woman at the helm gazes out with wide, brown eyes at the starscape beyond. The tapestry of orange, green, blue. She knows she doesn't miss it, but one day she will. The evenings spent with a mug of coffee in hand, sat on Heisenberg's observation decks, mulling over what was. What is. What could have been. What could be.

Alas. It was time. As dear as she held the station and it's occupants to heart, her work was drawing unwanted attentions. Her makeshift laboratory, furnished from the acquisition of two neighbouring apartment units, was no longer sufficient. It's contents, without proper containment, dangerous to those aboard. She needed to test, to experiment, to record and iterate with a risk to them nor the risk of prying eyes. Besides... sometimes a change of place helps clear the cache.

With a small complement of engineers and scientists, friends Thallia had come to know during her time at the Research Station, the Aletheia slips passed Steinfurt towards the Hamburg jumphole. Towards a place they might call home. Dr. Thorn closes her eyes, and taps her mag-lock boots together thrice for luck.

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