Pining For Kim -tail-blazer- Guide

A pale blue ion streak, thinner than a thread of spun glass, arcing across the dark. Kim’s signature. The Tail-Blazer. Every pilot in the Scatterhaul Fleet flew by the book—safe trajectories, mapped routes, deference to the gravity wells. But Kim? Kim flew through them. She’d loop a comet’s corona for fun, skim a black hole’s accretion disc like a skipping stone, and leave behind that impossible, shimmering tail: a braid of rogue particles and audacity.

“Where else would I go?”

The comms crackled. “Aft-deck, you still awake?” Pining For Kim -Tail-Blazer-