Prologue
Chisato Madison's only priority before leaving hte newspaper office forever was stealing as many office supplies as she could. The Cross Chronicle's final edition had gone out the previous day, and all the employees had to clean out their desks in time for the owners to show the building to some potential buyers. Some internet types, apparently. Chisato could only growl at the irony of the situation. Only a few years earlier, she had led the information technology revolution that had modernized Expel and brought the planet to the point where it could join the Federation. Sadly, she had introduced computer technology too quickly; since newspapers did not have enough time to take root and gain a loyal following, they had all failed shortly after she helped develop the first Expellian information superhighway. With Nede destroyed and the fledgling news industry of Expel devoured alive by hordes of mindless bloggers, Chisato found herself out of a job.
Her work alongside master engineer Precis F. Neumann may have gained Chisato all the fame she could have asked for, and with it untold riches and as many do-nothing gigs as she could shake a fat stick at, but settling down and living a life of comfort and nothing else did not appeal to her. She could not separate herself from her passion. Reporting – real, newspaper reporting – was part of Chisato's identity. It was, if such a thing were at all possible, in her blood. Absolutely nothing else she could do with her life could make her happy if she did not have her passion to sustain her.
And that was why she had to leave everything behind. She had to uproot herself and land someplace where she could live life the way she needed to live life. To Chisato Madison, Expel could never be home. Expel was the precocious brat that had skipped its way past the beauty of youth and had become a jaded, cynical, artless world, overdeveloped before its time. Chisato's new home would be someplace that had not skipped over the phase in which its people could appreciate her art. Her new home would be someplace that had mastered the typewriter and perhaps the digital keyboard but not the quick home publishing software. Her new home would be someplace that knew how much it needed people like her.
Finding such a home would be easy enough. Chisato was famous and rich enough to commission some gullible engineers to build her a private spacecraft, christened the Madison SkyWriter, with interplanetary traveling range and, most importantly, no official registration with the Federation. Official registration would mean someone somewhere would know where she was, and because her intention was to find an underdeveloped planet on which to pursue her newspaper career, she had no desire to risk getting caught violating the Underdeveloped Planet Protection Pact. Still, she also did not wish to become stranded anywhere; her solution was to make a deal with Precis Neumann. She would carry a deep space communicator with her, and she would keep in touch with Precis, and Precis would promise not to turn her in. In case of emergency, Precis could bail her out, preferably without the Federation noticing.
After much careful consideration, Chisato and Precis had chosen the lonely yet temperate planet Ananga for Chisato's destination. The journey was long yet easy, and the Madison SkyWriter held up marvelously to the task. As the planet finally came into view, Chisato glanced one final time at the map of the major landmasses and settlements before sitting back and letting the autopilot take her toward her chosen landing site. Precis had fixed the onboard navigation system so as to make the landing process completely automatic; the delicate calculations involved could not be left up to anything less than a powerful computer, unless the pilot's desire was something along the lines of crashing as spectacularly as possible, and even then, a computer could still help optimize the crash. As Chisato descended into the atmosphere, she took in her new surroundings, and she typed up the first of what would be many journal entries she would send back to Precis..
Ananga has come into view for the first time. I am surprised at how little anxiety I feel, starting over like this. I suppose were I thinking everything through rationally I would concern myself with the wisdom of jumping off into the middle of a strange land, a newspaper reporter version of a lost soul looking for a home. And yet, I have already grown attached to this new place. This is, in some sense already, my home. Just writing these words, knowing that you will read them and perhaps pass them on to a few friends (and I do mean a few!) fills me with the joy I have not had since the announcement that the Chronicle went bankrupt. I have my purpose here, and I have my one true love. That is all I need to look forward to in order to know I will be happy. I hope to have more good news to report in the near future, and I mean that in both ways. I hope to report to you, and I hope to report to the Anangans about whatever news worthy of reporting I manage to uncover. Finally, I thank you again for your unwavering support and indispensable aid in making this dream come true for me. You and the others are the best friends a woman could ask for. As I draw this entry to a close, I note that I am nearing the landing point, and I have already gone over my strategy for establishing my reputation, once again, as Chisato Madison, Ace Reporter. My eyes are about to water with happiness.
Yours, Chisato Madison