Getaway was reclined in his chair, peds propped on the console, and tapped idly away on a datapad. A few weeks had passed since that last, equal parts terrifying and uplifting, trip to Alt-Earth from Tenzon. As the Boss had ordered and Getaway was going to do anyway, he continued tracking the Lost Light, steering clear of the major intergalactic trade routes and any ship that even vaguely resembled a Galactic Council warship. The first jump through had dumped him near Tenzon, the second near the edge of charted Council space and, after speaking with a few locals, was pointed in the direction of the Lost Light's last known trajectory.
Which, in the vast, three-dimensional fabric of space-time, could mean they went to a thousand possible places at once. Traveling the distances they did, a single degree could put a ship off course by trillions of miles.
Getaway did not have the luxury of getting lost right now. The Lost Light was lost enough as is.
And if that giant white hull he was finally coming across was what he thought it was, then he'd finally reached Middle of Nowhere, Space.
Getaway threw down his datapad and immediately hailed the ship and opened up a comm link to the one mech on there who would have his number.
::Lost Light, this is Getaway of Uraya, requesting permission to board. Hey, Skids. Long time no see.::