Star-Captain of the Crimson Crumb..Part lll..(The Way Through).

The Entity’s brains flashed a deep, analytical blue. "NEBULA-9 IS A MYTH OF THE FINITE MIND," the Entity intoned. "A COGNITIVE COMFORT BLANKET FOR THE SHORT-LIVED. WE HAVE CALCULATED ALL OUTCOMES. YOU WILL ONLY FIND AN EMPTY VOID." Squeaky scoffed, kicking a loose bolt across the deck. "Calculated, have ya? That’s your problem, mate. Too many brains, not enough gut! You think you know every outcome because you're sitting here thinking about 'em. But a real pirate doesn't calculate the waves—he rides 'em!" The Multi-Cerebral Entity paused. The pulsing synapses slowed to a gentle hum. Millions of years of absolute cosmic certainty suddenly collided with the sheer, unadulterated absurdity of a space-mouse with a cutlass. "AN IRRATIONAL VARIABLE," one lobe muttered. "A STATISTICAL IMPOSSIBILITY," whispered another. "YET... HIS CONVICTION IS ABSOLUTE," a third concluded. The massive entity began to shift, the brains parting down the middle like a fleshy, glowing curtain, revealing a narrow path of stable plasma leading straight through the falling star. "PASS, SQUEAKY OF THE ORION BELT," the Entity boomed, a hint of cosmic amusement vibrating through the telepathic link. "PROVE THE MATH WRONG. OR PERISH IN THE ATTEMPT." "Much obliged, big brain!" Squeaky grinned, slamming the throttle forward. The Crimsom Crumb shot through the gap, riding a fresh crest of purple plasma into the unknown.