She was Tunie the Course. There was a tickling but completely ignorable awareness that part of her stream of awareness that ran in deep rivers of experience from her eyes and proprioception of her F’teropods and drive had an extra output added to it. But there was no latency, no shuddering stalls introduced. Just a passive observer to the currents of her self between her self.

Honestly her awareness only even noticed because the crew which was hers had insistently made sure she was aware. She did not understand why it was important that she be made aware. But this was a decision by her crew, so the momentary tickle of acknowledgement was taken in and included into the body and spine of herself as Tunie the Course.

A fact of herself that so far produced no changes or deviations to the shapes of herself in the futures but was included none the less.

For she trusted her crew.

The course she was narrowed, becoming straight and diminished. Collapsed into the immutable past-present.

One which speared sharp and straight through the volume. Running straight past the star with only the slightest of electro-braking curve to it. This added abstractions of cascading in searing arcing lances of heat through the tines of f’teropods. A consideration for when she once more was reborn as Tunie the Ship but only a factor for the probability of restriction in the futures she could encompass as Tunie the Course.

Going as close into the star as a full sixteenth of a volume radii would have been lethaly dangerous for less shielded, larger or slower objects then tunie. Stars were jealous things which coveted the space and clarity of their sight lines to one another like nothing else. Consistent Interference in those lines or disturbing of the natural symbiotic ecosphere shell directly around them would be met with fierce lances of incomprehensible light and energy.

But Tunie the course was immutably quick now in the present-past and there was no course correction that could bring her to such lethal shapes. She had honestly been well outside the capacity to slow down enough to even brush that possibility when she entered the stellar volume.

No far more possible had been the narrow edge of possibilities where she slammed directly into the star or its surrounding atmosphere of symbiotes and plumes of plasma.

She was narrowing, there were fewer and fewer safe paths for her to exist in. She was also coming closer and closer to the end of her life. The ending of the time as a being of branching twining futures and returning, rebirthing as a thing of matter and solid bodies and eyes and present drowning now.

She would thread herself through the crack and crevice between this stellar volume and the next, and begin to engage the shifting posture of her f’teropods. The courses would collapse and yet the limitations of the now-past will expand to an infinity of acceptable reactions. Without the crushing squeeze of the possible futures to strain and stretch her forward.

There were many approaches but her acceptable futures were even more narrow in the next volume. To be set and arranged properly here and now. Curving and looping away from the next star and coasting through and into a secret way. Slowing to compensate for the intractable uncertainties and close quarters.

The next volume was the start of proper wilderness. Long ago held and claimed against all challengers of civilization or harvesting forces.

Tunie the Ship would be born with deep memories of having done this journey many times before. Tunie the course wished well for her. It was a rough and dangerous place to be born.

There would not even be the threads of commerce of the slow practically crystalized trade caravans.

Perhaps a sparse and isolated scattering of civil encampments. But here was wilderness, predators and the fierce bloody might of nature.

This was proper forest.

And Tunie the Ship would be coasting, threading herself as a minute needle directly through the thicket of its canopies where leaves drank every spark of sun. More then half blind and practically strangled by close in branches.

Tunie the course knew that the way was safe, deep understanding of all the forces and secrets of this place and many safe journeys before.

But it did not change the tremor of claustrophobic terror at the thought of trying to even exist with so many unknowns and hidden extrapolatable volumes.

This was why she was collapsing, unbecoming The course.

The woods were no place for her or her kind.

Especially not the deep woods that brushed the edge of the peripheral Abyss. It was a route no Ship of her kind or even the particularly brave and foolish cousins known as scouts and trail blazers would ever willingly take. To vessels which scraped the penultimate of speed and had to become fundamentally different nature to accommodate themselves as courses a thicket of this age and growth was as solid and impassable as any stellar volume’s reef wall.

To the slow traders and caravans entering a wild wood was absolute and certain death.

Wilderness would brook no intrusions and no amount of protection bar that of full fledged warships would suffice to keep trespassers or civil caravans from harm and predation. Only those willing to be wild, fast or hidden could survive the wood.

Tunie as course and ship and through her many deep memories with her crew knew a secret though.

A way through the thicket.

A safe port in the horror of the pure wilderness volume beyond.

And most importantly of all the secrets that the trade mass within that safe port was treasured highly in ports beyond.

It was a secret kept close and hidden even onto rudeness and leers from other Ships. Tunie the Course was woven deep with it and would die with it.

Tunie the Ship and the many forms of her after each journey would keep this secret too.

Her Crew entrusted her with this.

And Tunie in all her forms trusted her Crew.