She shut down the comm unit. Her brother was, as usual, still a complete stranger to her. She covered her face with her hands, sucking a deep breath between her fingers. She pushed her hands over her head, sweeping up her mahogany colored hair, her eyes closed. Inside her jumbled mind, bits and pieces teased her. Always, foremost among all the faces, was the Man Who Smiled. He called her Jessy. The sound of his voice echoed through her mind, Jessy... and she smiled softly. He brought her peace, whoever he was.

She got up out of her chair, blinking her blue-grey eyes in the dim light of the cluttered room. She knew what she wanted, more than anything else. She wanted her own piece - a piece of the 'verse, a piece of the sky - a piece that was hers alone, and not Jessamin Carver's or Jessamy Morgan's. Whoever they were, she was Jessamy Carver now, and she had the one thing she needed right this very moment.

Money.

Her father, Sebastian Carver, had been a very, very wealthy man. Her brother, Geoff, had received the lion's share of the inheritance when her father had died. Her own share had been more than generous, and she'd barely touched it since she'd woke up. Her right hand skimmed the scar hidden in her hair. She was glad she didn't remember that. In her mind, there were a few brief memories of her father; a large, imposing man. She felt a vague sense of relief at not remembering more, and didn't pry at those memories.

It took her only a few minutes to toss what few belongings she cared about into the duffel bag. Most of what was here in the small apartment had been brought out of storage, and she remembered almost none of it. It was like she lived in someone else's home, just waiting for them to come home and catch her there. She wouldn't miss it. She slung the heavy-duty duffel bag over her shoulder, her long brown coat tossed across it. She locked the door, and headed out.

The strap on the bag rubbed her shoulder, making the skin underneath burn. The pain made her smile - it was a reminder of the latest self-confirming rebellion. The tattooist had done an amazing job - the masters here on the core planets were exactly that - Masters. They had access to the highest quality and highest-tech equipment.

Within the space of a few days, she sat at the helm of a small ship. It wasn't much, but it was hers. It wasn't a luxury vessel, although she could have afforded one. It was a real ship, a medium size transport. She still needed a few things - some crew, especially. She knew how to fly this thing - she wasn't sure where she learned, but when she sat there, hands on the yoke, looking out over the console, and she knew. She knew she could make this bird fly.

She spent a small fortune on the new computers, and the engine upgrade. She watched the pieces delivered to the cargo bay, watched the crates pile up, and began inquiries into a crew. She didn't have much luck - she didn't trust any of the candidates she met. She installed the core system of the computer, leaving the rest for later. To install the engine upgrades, she found a reliable engineer through her brother, and things were done quickly and efficiently - if not cheaply.

She left home without looking back. Across the bow of her ship, in freshly painted letters, read the name "Oberon". Above the console, a new screen glowed with multiple colors in the dim light. She stroked a finger across it, smiling at the readout displayed there. It was only a beginning, but with some more work, it was going to be impressive.

As she put the autopilot on, her course set for the next three days, she sighed. Still more work to do. She tackled the project with determination. She painted her cabin, and made it home. She ate a meal in her dining room, and considered painting the room. Along one wall a small kitchen, a big table in the middle, and a small area with two hard metal benches made up a largish common area. She'd replace those benches, she decided after sitting on one.

She explored the ship, got to know every inch of her. She unpacked supplies from the crates, stowing them away where they'd stay on the ship. She liked the feel of the the engines through the hull. As she got farther away from the Core, she felt a weight lift that she hadn't even realized was there.

She finally arrived, landed, made arrangements to stay a week. Her ship sat among several others, similar in size and function, although quite varied in state of repair.