Life and Other Nuisances

Recorder on.

In contrast to the previous recording, Mortis no longer looks happy or relaxed. Several personnel files have been brought up, apparently mostly related to a corporation named PRELI. He minimises them, and leans back, massaging his forehead a little.

I swear that if there really is a god, he's either got it in for me or has a really bad sense of humour.

I thought, just for a moment, that things were working out. Apart from the Lethean Guard, I've yet to suffer a combat loss out here in Bleak. My performance, both as a pilot and - increasingly - as a unit commander have proved my worth to the Ghosts. I unburdened myself to Kimochi, and finally feel more relaxed about my condition. And the whole messy business with Talan, Pryce and Rendar seemed to have settled. Bliss.

Yeah. For maybe a day. Reading between the lines and prodding the recording systems in the Ghost public areas... we've got another joyous little emotional mess forming, one involving not one but two commanding officers. Not heard much about it since the initial spat that resulted in both Nephilim Arkenath and Tribune Jenneth leaving contact for a few hours... but I doubt we'll be so lucky as to have it all blown over already. Quite what Kopenhagen thinks he's doing, I have no idea, but he's either incredibly clever or a naive idiot.

He smiles in dark humour.

I'm not sure which is worse.

But that seemed like no big deal. I'm beginning to get the feeling that Twisted was very quiet - after all, the only two women in the corp, Rathnon and Whit, were a raging psycho and a stay-at-home respectively. No such luck here. It's not the girls in PRETA that concern me now, though. Unless any of them have predatory homosexual tendencies that I've yet to unearth.

Because my little sister has turned up out of the blue.

He scowls.

Repentence. I hadn't seen her in the flesh for years, not since I left to join the Academy. Just never had time. I suppose I still think of her as the sixteen-year old that was always in one scrape or another. But on the other hand... she mentioned that she was kicked out of the family and disowned over a party. Wouldn't say what kind, but she mentioned a Minmatar rabble rouser, a police raid... I'm guessing that she was caught in bed with said Minmatar. A more shameful mark on the name of Tyrathlion in the eyes of dear mother I can't imagine. I've considered doing a little more research, maybe pulling some strings with the Imperial Navy, but if I'm right, the only result will be to embarass myself and her. Does it really matter? After all, the number of... relatively innocent men and women that I've killed over the last couple of years is probably nearing six figures.

He falls silent, considering this morbid fact.

Thank god that the first person she met out here was Kimochi. I dread to think what it would have been like if Vaden or Inara had got there first... both of those ex-United folk are excellent pilots and good people, but Reppy is nineteen, nineteen! A nineteen-year old, naive and troublesome slip of a Khanid girl. I wouldn't be surprised if every Cartel slave trader and pimp in the Skyhook was sizing her up. I heard plenty of stories about her wild life back home, but that was different. That was the homeworld, where the worst that could happen was a bad batch of nerve sticks or an overenthusiastic suitor. She could die out here, or worse, and no one would bat an eyelid.

But she was adamant. She wanted to be out here - not out in lowsec, but out with me. Sweet kid... we had some good times back home, before I left, before we all lost some innocence.

Kimochi and some woman named Selkie have sorted out a place for Reppy in the Ghosts' legitimate front organisation. Hopefully that'll work out... because there's nowhere else for her to go. She's not a killer, doesn't have the backbone for piracy. She's a spoiled daughter of the aristocracy at the end of the day. Intelligence and their implants made me change, but she's had nothing like that...

He smiles bitterly.

I suppose that's a silver lining, that I can still care about someone. I'd almost forgotten that I could.

But I tell you... if anyone hurts her... anyone, even the Nephilim herself... I swear they'll get a bullet through the skull before the day is out.

Consequences be damned.

He glowers into space for a moment, and then switches off the camera.

Recorder off.

You Scratch My Back...

Recorder on.

The usual view of the screen room dominates the camera. Mortis looks tired, but a little more relaxed than usual.

Well, I did it. I told Kimochi. The worst thing to come out of it was that I ended up feeling like I was a paranoid idiot. I've never actually told it all to an outsider... the Hamster knows, of course, but he's hardly a coherent conversationalist. I suppose, in retrospect, I was operating by comparison with normal people, rather than capsuleers. Did I really expect to be cast out by capsuleer pirates?

He smiles, amused.

Perhaps, perhaps not. But she, someone who my mother, in her usual shallow way, would probably have described on meeting her as being 'a fundamentally nice girl', didn't even bat an eyelid.

And the Feral Predator earned her keep today again, on a related matter... flew alongside Kimochi's Curse for a while, helping to chew apart a Myrmidon. Despite the emphasis on small ships and 'Freaks', the Predator has seen the most use of any of my armada out here in Bleak. That might change once I begin studies on the Crusader, and get myself another Pilgrim to replace the one I lost over a year ago.

One other thing of note... I was contacted earlier by an old associate, a Gallente that used to do some marketting work. Apparently someone found out about their connection to me and wanted to know my current whereabouts. Didn't leave a name. Slightly concerning, but I've got a lot of enemies... what's one more?

He reaches out and switches off the camera.

Recorder off.

A Brief Interlude

Text only in-pod recording. Transmitting on open channels.

Fuck you, Tau Ceti...

System notification: self destruct sequence completes in 5 seconds.

...

Catastrophic system fai.......

Connecting and Disconnecting

Recorder on.

Mortis is not in his usual location, instead in a cramped room apparently of Minmatar design. Engraved on one wall is the name Feral Predator. He looks tired and twitchy, yet somehow satisfied.

Well, I called it and it happened. Perhaps in future Ensign Talan will pay more attention to me. Not that I could have prevented it, or perhaps even wanted to.

I went to the Skyhook. Got over my scare from the last visit, went through some old meditation techniques, that kind of thing. It was a nasty shock, but I think my condition is still under control.

Kimochi was there. Seemed rather more upbeat than last time, chatting to a Star Fraction pilot. At that point... well, things got messy.

He flops back onto the small bunk, and chuckles faintly.

This ship really isn't built for comfort, but I always feel safe sleeping here.

Ensign Talan showed up, and promptly tried to start a fight despite Ensign Khale's attempts to intervene. Good man. Both he and Ensign Subaka seem like the kind of people I can understand, much in the same mold as the old Twisted crowd.

It didn't come to anything, mind. Kelsy vented her spleen, then stalked off to her own corner. It shook Kimochi a bit though... she vanished off into the boardroom. I took the opportunity to try and heal some rifts with Kelsy, but she wasn't interested. She believed that nothing would come of the tension and threats. Hah.

Then, by the decree of the gods of irony, the man at the centre of this charming situation, Pryce himself, comes in and enters the boardroom before anyone can suggest that this is not a good idea. Kelsy went in shortly afterwards.

He lies back.

I don't think anyone was surprised when the medics were suddenly called in, and rush out again with Vincent's limp body pursued by Kelsy. Don't know if Kimochi killed him, or even if it was by gun or just a chair... but I called it.

Saves me potential trouble and the corp a lot of hassle. Assuming Myrhial doesn't come down on her like a ton of bricks.

He snorts.

Who am I kidding, of course she will. But if she's smart, she'll go light on the punishment. This clears a lot of air, better for the corp overall.

Kimochi seemed to be completely shellshocked, so I offered to take her home. Had to ignore Vaden and Inara's snickers on the way, of course. They remind me of Rath a bit. Wonder how that bitch is doing?

She didn't really say anything on the way back. I just dropped her off at the entrance with a tip of the metaphorical hat.

He smirks in dark amusement.

No doubt mother would be very proud of her gentlemanly son.

His expression becomes more serious, a little thoughtful.

There's going to be all kinds of speculation, mind, but I can put up with it. Commander Rendar has been through hell, and if my support helps her get back on her feet and a useful member of PRETA again, so much the better.

Somehow, it's refreshing to be concerned for another's problems rather than my own... I might be insane, but I wouldn't shoot a corpmate without an order. Or at least express permission.

He chuckles, shaking his head slightly, then reaches out to the camera.

Recorder off.

Physician, Heal Thyself

Recorder on.

The camera again shows the Screen Room on the Midnight's Embrace. Mortis looks worn out, both physically and mentally, and seems barely focused on the plethora of information.

It's definitely getting worse.

I still can't believe I did it. I've always thought that my condition, although ever-present, was controllable. That the only time it ever had free reign was in the middle of a battle.

He reaches out for a bottle of something that looks positively caustic, takes a gulp, then makes a face and throws the bottle aside. There is a thud as it hits a wall offscreen.

Who am I kidding. Alcohol hasn't helped since before Intel, all I'm doing is killing brain cells... the last time I got drunk, I nearly killed someone. Control, control, control....

I saw Kimochi in the Skyhook. Not looking too happy, definitely hitting the bottle... went over to provide some company. My guesses about the problem, her relationship with Vincent Pryce, proved correct.

He allows himself a small, satisfied smile, then waves a hand angrily, his expression darkening again.

Look at me. Proud about rooting out the details of a sordid relationship between corpmates. Ridiculous.

He broods for a moment.

We started chatting. All harmless, all innocent. Then I start to leave to get some sleep... and suddenly I've offered to have Vincent killed. Tried to make light of it, all a joke, haha, but I was shaken. And she knew that I hadn't been joking. I could see in her eyes that she was tempted.

Her reaction doesn't surprise me. But me... Vincent has done nothing to me. Doesn't matter that he's effectively immortal, that arranging an accident would just be a rather brutal way of making a point about how to run your personal affairs... he's a corpmate, a colleague. We've flown together and been a good team.

He slumps a little in the chair.

It would have even been kind of ok if the offer had been prompted purely by sympathy for Kimochi. She's a nice girl, the most welcoming of the leadership... Myrhial is a little distant, Yishal bound by the forms of rank and discipline, Aria always off somewhere else. Makes me wonder how she ended up with the Angels... maybe I'll ask her some time.

But no, it wasn't just a kind of brotherly protectiveness. I just wanted to kill, and Pryce was a suitable target to latch onto.

She said no, of course. What else could she say? The Skyhook might be a Ghost establishment, but there are still ears to hear. But my god, the potential consequences... if she calls to take me up on the offer in the depths of some dark mood... how am I supposed to react? Even if she doesn't, she saw with her own eyes my uglier side. What if she becomes concerned about my ability to fly as part of the team?

And I'm not sure that she wouldn't be right.

He continues staring blankly at the screens until the camera goes into standby.

Recorder off.

The Face of Darkness

Recorder on.

The view is different now. The design is fundamentally similar to the old room, but it is clearly a different one, refitted for the same purpose. There is a subtle set of double red chevrons on one wall - the Kaalakiota logo. Mortis stands at the centre, looking over the screens as usual.

Well, here we are. The information centre of my newest, most expensive, and potentially most deadly asset.

What do you mean your asset?

The new voice belongs to a woman with short brown hair, several metallic plates on her left cheek, and wearing an outfit that seems to be a bastardised variant of a Caldari military commander's uniform, with pieces of metallic armour on the shoulders and arms.

I paid for the equipment on the Embrace, thank you very much.

But I funded the hull. Besides, my dear, you did suggest that I move onto the ship...

She shrugs, then turns.

That's because we're partners. I've saved your scrawny Khanid butt enough times. I don't owe you anything. Now excuse me, I need to check that the damn Navy techs have installed the launchers correctly...

She leaves, and the camera turns to focus on Mortis again, who smiles twistedly.

I suppose she has a point, though I'd never admit that in front of her.

He pauses, looking through a report casually.

A lot has happened since the last report. Organising all the permits for Midnight's Embrace, the annihilation of a hostile POS... and rediscovering some old ships from the Deklein campaign, just gathering dust in Placid. A couple of good warships, the Emerald Onslaught and the Ferret. Both will need some refitting, but I look forward to flying them again. They're in surprisingly good shape, really... kudos to their crews for holding them together in my absence.

I'll need to look at sorting out the mechanics of getting into Curse as well, so that I can meet with some real Cartel representatives, maybe look at doing a little direct work instead of all this freelance stuff. And...

He trails off, evidently trying to avoid a subject. Then he sighs.

I told Kimochi about my condition. Not much, tried to keep it vague, but I had to tell her a few things. And since I haven't had anyone thundering on my door, I guess she kept it to herself. I doubt Yishal would've kept quiet about it if she had found out that I might be a few antimatter rounds short of a salvo.

But she's got a few problems of her own... I wasn't there, but apparently there was a seriously botched operation where we took heavy losses... she's not exactly resigned, but a little bird tells me that she won't be leading many fleets for a while. Whether she resigned of her own accord or some higher authority showed some disapproval, I don't know. Either is possible.

And Kimochi herself...

He frowns.

There's something going on between Kimochi, Kelsy Talan and Vincent Pryce. Definite tension when his name was mentioned in the Skyhook. You don't need Intelligence training to spot the friction. It almost makes me wonder if the Ghost hierarchy is as stable as it seemed from the outside. Even whether I made the right choice in joining them.

I feel like I'm in Midnight's Embrace, in more senses than one. Hopefully I can cast enough light to stumble my way through the suddenly marshy ground.

He continues scrutinising the screens for a moment, then reaches out and switches off the camera.

Recorder off.

Screams in the Void

Recorder on.

Mortis is in the Screen Room again, clearly in a dark mood. A long list of names is slowly scrolling down one of the centre screens.

A lot of good men and women died today, and it is entirely my fault.

The view changes briefly, then returns to the camera.

The combat logs make for unpleasant reading. I can remember the panic of trying to hold the Lethean Guard in one piece, the way she shook with every impact... and I know that the battle could have been avoided entirely. To return to combat the militia forces while the Sentry Guns still had me keyed into their targetting systems was foolish at best. But even that is not the worst of it.

The sad truth is that I was going against my instincts from the start of the battle. Firing on the Punisher, failing to consider the threat of the Griffin... it could have been avoided. Instead, the remnants of a proud ship lie to scatter through space after having been picked clean by scavengers.

He stands and begins pacing.

I was fighting against my condition. Stupid, really. It is frustrating, it has led to my fall from grace... but in the heat of battle, it helps. And I tried to suppress it, attempted to flee the moment the Griffin's jammers came online, rather than stay and fight with all the fury of a Sleipnir class. I had to experience that horrific tearing sensation from the auto-eject sequence, hear the last screams of the crew... and then, worst of all, face up to Commander Yishal.

She didn't say much, but there was disappointment in her eyes. It wasn't the worst slipup I could have made, I've discussed it with other pilots; it was not an unreasonable combat for a Sleipnir to engage in. But I can't help feeling that I've disgraced myself in her eyes.

He smiles with dark humour.

Disappointing PRETA's Tactical Commander was not high on my list of priorities for the day.

I mentioned the fight to Rathnon earlier while she was trying to organise moving several warships to Amamake - personal note, avoid the system like the plague for a while - and she was surprisingly sympathetic. Beneath that Intaki spiky aggression and playfulness, she's a good enough soul, I suppose... we concluded that some valuable lessons were learned before I disconnected. Sometimes I wonder if she guessed something of my condition, or even if she has a touch of it herself from some other source. We certainly flew together enough times.

In other news, I managed to lure Elysa to the Skyhook. It took a bet to do so, and she insisted that I pay for all the drinks, but I got her in.

He chuckles, looking in better spirits, and sits again.

It was a simple game. Arazu versus Falcon. If she could hold me off for ten cycles of her jammers, with maximum efficiency, she won. If I managed to get a lock at all, I won. She was swearing at me all the way to the bar, as I managed to slip through on the tenth and final cycle. She's accused me of cheating a few times, but she was the one flying with a full set of Magnetometric jammers when I suggested Multispectrals...

And although I'll be bidding a sad farewell to the Lethean Guard and her crew, I do have a new ship to prize... the Sepulchral Mask. Cynabal-class cruisers are odd ships, but I trust that she will serve me well on the limited-access Deadspace zones that the local Militia are always warring over.

He frowns gently.

My condition is of worry, though. Neither Nephilim Arkenath nor any of the Commanders I spoke with during the series of interviews inquired about any mental problems, so I haven't lied. And I cannot see it being a problem to the other Ghosts. But... it might cause divisions, isolate me. It is not, after all, the most palatable of illnesses, and the last thing I need or want is to be short of backup when the fire is up.

Amarrian Intelligence have a lot to answer for.

He sits in silence for a few moments, then presses a switch.

Recorder off.

Killing the Dawn

Recorder on.

The view is of a large, hemispherical darkened room. The curved side is almost entirely made up of assorted screens showing video footage from security cameras, news feeds, ship fitting screens, market information and other such details. The recorder is apparently set into a hovering camera, pointing towards the chair set in the centre. Mortis looks thoughtful, his visor removed for once.

Well, I've arrived.

Recently completed my first combat operation with PRETA. Satisfying, although there was a moment or two of awkwardness.

We picked up a Megathron and a Drake on long-range scanners. Automatically I contacted K, and moved to get the Terminal Deliverence... and then realised that I'd have to explain about her to the other members of the team. That included Commander Yishal.

He snorts faintly.

Yishal reminds me of an Imperial Navy drill instructor I met once, and I like the idea of crossing her no more than that man. I have no doubt of her ability if she was given the rank of Tactical Command, but the woman is mildly intimidating, to say the least. The nub of the problem is that I'm reluctant to reveal K to the Ghosts, and explaining to the good Commander that there is someone on my payroll that is an unknown quantity for the Cartel would have been such fun.

There was no choice at all, in the end. I mentioned that I had an associate who could provide assistence. No one enquired further, and the Covert Ops craft was never spotted by a PRETA operative, so hopefully I can maintain this tenuous state of affairs, with K's continued anonymity, for a while. And I'll have to consider how to explain this to Nephilim Arkenath, and the Commander herself, of course.

Such problems aside, K was able to pinpoint the Megathron with her usual skill. The Deliverence did her brutal job, and aided in the subsequent destruction when the battleship attempted to self-destruct.

The screen changes to show a series of statistics and names before returning to the camera.

Shortly afterwards, I brought in the Hamster. Thank god he was on a good stretch.

He sighs, leaning back, then taps at some controls to examine a screen for a few seconds, before letting it minimise again.

There was an amusing moment of near-panic when he failed to announce his presence and alliegance as he warped right onto Yishal's Curse. No shots were fired, and since that was the worst thing he did, I think he made a good impression. By his unbalanced standards, at least.

Not much else in the way of combat. Tried to engage a pair of assault frigates with the Feral Predator, but they warped. It's odd. Back in Molden, moving around was easy. The worst you'd run into was an Electus Matari battlegroup, and those were rare. Here in Devoid, large fleets are a common sight, but consisting of frigates and the odd cruiser. For the first time in months, I regret the fact that sentry guns have keyed me out of their defence systems. No matter how fast or tough the ship, my precious cruisers are vulnerable. But I'll still take those over EM.

In other news... Elysa is getting steadily more angry with me. Keeps snarling that she's not a courier pilot, regardless of how much more sense it makes for her to pick up a few valuable items, instead of hiring C. She can stew, as far as I'm concerned. I'm still annoyed with how she dealt with that business with the Red Falcons.

He grumbles inaudibly, then closes his eyes.

There'll be time enough to learn the ins and outs. I'm sure there is someway of dealing with the large fleets in the area. I'm still better off here than in Molden. There's just the three final barriers to my success around here... K, explaining exactly how I redeemed my CONCORD record last time... and my condition. Fortunately, it didn't prove a problem during the fight with that Megathron. Fingers crossed it'll stay quiet. The last thing I need is an attack while in the middle of an operation.

He broods for a moment, then presses a control.

Recorder off.