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.