Every one is logged. At every stop, the Ship spreads its glorious, fragile wings, basks in the star's warmth, absorbing energy, recharging the power cells. At every stop, the myriad eyes stare outwards, looking for anomalies. Sometimes, the Ship stirs from its slumber, tracks down a new quarry, looks it over, sniffs at it. Each time, the Ship turns away, fires the engines, moves on.
Stars come and go.
The Ship, inevitably, ages. Eventually, they too begin to fail, one by one. It finds stars, opens its wings to their light, searches out their secrets. There is simply no reason to ever give up. The great wings open to the life-giving light, and another long study of the heavens begins.