text: > look around
  Clouds of dust roil around you, confusing your sight. Slow, heavy stellar winds perturb the nebula; Horizon heaves uneasily as she wallows through the currents.
  
  > Lower sails
  You don't want to strike your sails completely, not out here in the void. That would leave Horizon an aimless comet.
  
  > drop the anchor
  Out here? There's nowhere in sight to anchor.
  
  > take the dust
  The nebula is too vast and intangible to affect.
  
  > raise the sails
  You spread the sails, but Horizon only shakes more violently.
  
  You are lost in clouds of dust. The stellar winds are thick and turgid here. Horizon heaves uneasily as she moves across the currents.
  
  Your sails are too taut for this dense environment, you realize.
  
  > examine the sails
  The sails are spread.
  
  > loosen the sails
  You loosen the sails to catch the thick dust-currents. Horizon pitches once; but then the sails billow and fill, and she comes to hand. You steer her inwards, shifting deftly with the nebula's roiling, until the clouds part before you.
  
  Horizon circles the rim of a vast, empty bubble -- a void swept clear by the bright-beating pulsar at its heart. Hot radiation sleets around you, most intensely in the pulsar's whirling beams.
  
  > examine the pulsar
  A pulsar is the core of a dead star -- its bulk long since blasted away, dispersed to the dust that surrounds this place. The tiny dense remnant has not yet cooled, after these aeons. It blazes hot and clear, and casts two polar beams in wild spirals as it whirls.
  
  > examine the beams
  The radiation in this space is a pure hot high-energy blaze -- very different from the dust-thick currents out in the nebula. The pulsar's beams whirl around the bubble in a spiralling sweep. (48.327 rotations per second, whispers the compass.)
  
  > go to the pulsar
  A close approach to such an energetic dead star would kill you, despite Horizon's protection.
  
  > enter the beam
  That's what sails are for.
  
  > raise the sails
  You raise the sails, fighting to angle their lax fabric against the pulsar-light. Horizon accelerates skittishly until it hurtles around the edge of the bubble. But speed will do you no favors once you are embroiled in the dust.
  
  > Tighten sails
  You tighten sail somewhat. It helps; the sails begin to thrum in the clear, hot energy-flow. But it is not enough.
  
  > Inventory
  You have the iridescent cloth, safely stowed.
  
  > put cloth on the sails
  The iridescent cloth is invaluable, and you have perfectly good sails already.
  
  > examine the anchor
  Your anchor is a disk of whirling strange matter. It's secured by the keel, edge-on so that it slips without drag through space-time.
  
  > Tighten sails
  You tighten the sails, taut as you can pull them, and steer into the pulsar's beam. The sails sing in the pure clear high-energy stream; the Horizon of Night thrums, blazes, and flings herself out through the veils of dust.
  
  You are streaking along a narrow passage, an open lane through the nebula's streams of dust. Far behind you, the pulsar illuminates your sails every .02 seconds or so.
  
  A small blue-white star stands out in this empty zone.
  
  > go to star
  You vector for the star. But Horizon's velocity is too great; you whip past the star in a shallow hyperbola, and are flung away into the void.
  
  Slow, thick stellar winds perturb the nebula. You are lost in clouds of gas. Horizon heaves frighteningly as she crashes through the currents.
  
  You will have to loosen sail to gain control.
  
  > loosen the sail
  You partially relax the sails, and Horizon begins to ease.
  
  Clouds of gas swirl. The winds are turgid and heavy, here in the nebula; Horizon heaves uneasily as she crashes through the currents.
  
  You will have to loosen sail to gain control.
  
  > Lower sails
  You lower the loose sails, and slow. Horizon still handles unevenly, even at this speed.
  
  > Tighten sails
  You tighten sail somewhat. It helps; the sails begin to thrum in the clear, hot energy-flow. But it is not enough.
  
  > continue
  You tighten the sails, taut as you can pull them, and steer into the pulsar's beam. The sails sing in the pure clear high-energy stream; the Horizon of Night thrums, blazes, and flings herself out through the veils of dust.
  
  You are diving along a narrow passage, an open lane through the nebula's streams of dust. Far behind you, the pulsar illuminates your sails every .02 seconds or so.
  
  A small blue-white star stands out in this empty zone.
  
  > Lower sails
  You furl your sails, and descend into the blue-white star's outer system.
  
  This blue-white sun has no planets, only a broad ring of asteroidal trash. One planetoid seems touched with an unusual glow.
  
  > examine the planetoid
  The planetoid seems laced with a faint glow, even on its dark side.
  
  > go to the planetoid
  You drop the anchor; Horizon swings slowly into the asteroid belt. You maneuver towards the odd planetoid.
  
  This is a dusty, cratered potato of a rock just like billions of others... except for the strange pale light which pools in the deepest craters.
  
  > look at light
  The light seems fluid -- as if starlight had condensed on this lonely rock, and dripped down to puddle in the cracks and crevices. You know no chemistry which could explain such a phenomenon.
  
  > take light
  You venture out with several storage carboys. The liquid light registers no mass nor temperature, but it seems to respect the fused-quartz surface of the containers. You fill them, and stow your prize in the hold, where it gleams gently.
  
  > weigh the anchor
  This blue-white sun has no planets, only a broad ring of asteroidal trash. One planetoid seems touched with an unusual glow.
  
  The fluid luminescence is unique in your memory and experience. The light, together with the iridescent cloth -- discoveries like these will assure your fame.
  
  > raise the sails
  You raise sail to pulsar-light. Horizon rides a long crest out through the nebula and into the star-clusters beyond.
  
  This region is dominated by old, old stars -- the suns of the early universe, scant of life's rich elements. Perhaps they have nothing for you. But a fey mood is on you, and you determine to forge ahead until you have found something worthy of your time.
  
  > wait
  You allow the Horizon to move on.
  
  You have passed into a starless bubble in the cluster. Solar winds howl through the space. The galactic spiral is spread in a long glorious arc below you.
  
  You feel, more than hear, an eerie shift in the neutrino flux. It's not a signal... you think; but the natural white noise of neutrinos has modulated to a spectral opalescence. And the odd flux is coming from straight ahead, on the far side of the bubble.
  
  > wait
  At your slow speed, Horizon succumbs to the powerful solar winds of the bubble. She shifts off-course, into the halo reaches.
  
  You trawl among the halo's ancient stars. You can no longer sense the eerie neutrino signal; but you are certain that it is somewhere nearby.
  
  > Wait
  You allow the Horizon to move on.
  
  You have entered a starless bubble in the cluster. Solar winds howl through the space.
  
  You sense the eerie flux once again. It is coming from straight ahead, on the far side of the bubble. You're not sure you can reach it, in these crosscurrents.
  
  > raise sails
  You haul the sails higher. Horizon accelerates across the void, towards the source of the neutrino shift.
  
  Stellar gas presses in on you, drawn together by who knows what confluence of nebular magnetism and solar winds.
  
  The odd neutrino flux is coming from beyond the clouds. But your sails are shuddering. Controlling Horizon is difficult.
  
  > loosen the sails
  You relax the sails. They billow, catching the dense solar currents, and you steer Horizon into the cluster.
  
  You have passed into a dense cluster of ancient stars. Murky currents swirl around you. Somewhere out of sight, you hear a nova-chain crackling away.
  
  The odd neutrino flux is off to the side, tangled in the maze.
  
  > examine the flux
  The normal white hiss of the neutrino background -- the cosmic noise of burning stars -- has shifted, somewhere to the side. One flavor follows another in a delicate, shimmering opalescence. You know of no property of space which could cause such a thing.
  
  > Lower sails
  You lower the sails, and steer carefully into the cluster.
  
  New suns are condensing here -- an unusual phenomenon in these halo reaches. Their ultraviolet flares have swept this region free of the dust that birthed them.
  
  The odd neutrino flux is coming from beyond the binary. But your sails are rippling.
  
  > Tighten sails
  You tighten sail. Horizon shivers, catching the energetic radiation, and draws in on the neutrino source.
  
  You have passed into a starless bubble in the cluster. Solar winds howl through the space. Somewhere out of sight you can hear a variable star thumping.
  
  The odd neutrino flux is coming from straight ahead, on the far side of the bubble. You will have to accelerate to reach it across these currents.