Mortis: Cobra and Rabbit

Recorder on.

The view is once again of Mortis' Screen Room. Exactly where it is is unclear - the design is different from any of his previous ones. Grander, seemingly more connected. An entire section has a different set of computers from the rest, dominated by a large central screen, which is unusually still, showing only a dark logo.

Mortis sits in his usual swivel chair, tapping through reports occasionally.

Much has happened since my last entry.

Repentence has recovered, much to everyone's relief. I've seen her a couple of times, and I suspect that she'll never fully heal. Certainly Masque doesn't think so, and she'd know. But she's as healthy as can be reasonably expected, and able to function again.

That's more than can be said for Ghost Festival. The announcement that we're shutting up shop was aggravating, to say the least. Cobra was pretty insistent about my next move, and that's not a tie I'm willing to sever, though.

I have been wondering about the wisdom of joining the group, but the information and connections they've given me... it seemed foolish not to.

But Cobra said Veto, so Veto is where I have applied. We'll have to see what happens, of course. Ethan Verone and his subordinates have a record of being very picky about who they recruit, and although my record with PRETA will help, anything could happen. I know Adrastus has already been accepted. No surprise that he chose to go there, the man never did have strong feelings about anything - save for Sansha.

Returning to duty as a full combat pilot will be interesting. Quite why Cobra wants me here, I'm not sure, but it'll be good to stretch my wings again. Hopefully they won't order me to do anything against the Rabbits, though. That could lead to a nasty situation.

He leans back, and pats his chair.

Still, if the worst comes to the worst, I've still got this baby. Nobody outside of my inner circle knows about her, and I intend to keep it that way for some time. I don't know how Cobra got her, and I've no idea why they've given her to me for safekeeping, but I'll certainly make the most of her. There's nothing like an ace up your sleeve to bolster one's confidence.

He smiles humourlessly, then stands.

I should get back to Goinard. Being off conventional comms network has its disadvantages sometimes.

Recorder off.

(OOC note: No, I have never seen GI Joe or anything related to that franchise xP)

Mortis: Reflection

Recorder on.

Mortis sits, looking thoughtful in the Screen Room.

Haven't made a log for some time. Paranoid that she would hack into it, and I'd have made some slip. Now she's gone.

He idly taps a control, bringing a report into focus before dismissing it.

I don't know whether to be glad or depressed. The Masque made life hard, but she was the best assistant I've ever had. I will miss her, I suppose.

He prods a databank nestled in a recess.

Not that she's truly dead, of course. But she might as well be. Now she's just a clever program, not a true AI. Coredeath stripped away personality and memory and sentience. I swore to leave the matter, put it behind me, but King's interference borders on unforgiveable. Although studying the alterations she made to Ashley has proved interesting, the nanotech psuedo-cybernetics that rebuilt the destroyed sections of the brain has helped me while away the quiet hours...

Still, even if I wanted revenge, she's gone to ground somewhere, and I don't care to chase her down. More hassle than it's worth. Let sleeping dogs lie. I've had to put in more work to keep things ticking over, but that's no bad thing.

In other news, Elysa's come back to PRETA. We've avoided each other mostly, which suits me fine. I've got better things to do than work out that minefield.

Oddly enough, we seem to have swapped jobs almost. She's been turning broody and reclusive, and I've been exploring wormholes.

He laughs.

Finally found a use for the Impious Judgement ever since the POS operation fell through. I don't think I'll use her again, though - the Chirurgeon and my newest acquisition, Ixtilton's Altar, will prove more useful, I think. Logistics ships are marvellous things. Not operated a Guardian properly since the Digital Assassins days...

And then there's my dear sister.

He scowls.

I still can't believe she did it. It's her life, and I'm damned if I'm going to go marching in to deal with Inara, of all people, but... selling herself into slavery. Stupid girl. She never could think long-term. In a few years she'll be regretting it, mark my words.

And Rathnon's gone. She just didn't fit it, I suppose. Wound up a few too many people, got into one of her tempers, and then was stupid enough to leak information. I'll happily kill her myself for that last part if we ever meet again. Sad, I suppose, but I'm not the forgiving type. At least the other Twisted are settling in comfortably.

So now my current problem is boredom. I've been playing with statistics, considering some of the more unusual warships on the market, and considering the Exequror class - or more particularly, the Navy variant. As fast gunships go, its second to none considering the price. Perhaps a little expensive, but it's not like I'm poor. What's the point in money if you can't treat yourself?

He smirks.

Look at me. Back in Molden, I had about four ships in my hangar. Now I've got more frigates than that. Including a Succubus that Rath let me have before she left. A somewhat fragile ship, but the damage output is staggering - inferior to my Enyo, but with far more flexibility of range. Still haven't tested her in combat, but I look forward to the results.

He pats the organic-looking wall gently.

But Astaroth continues to be my home and my comfort. Even with one of us self-lobotomised, the union of myself, the cruiser and the Masque are something I look forward to...

His eyes grow distant for a moment, then he shrugs and turns off the camera.

Recorder off.

Mortis: Lie to Me

Security file accessed.

The view is of Mortis' quarters, apparently through one of the hidden monitoring cameras. The sound of orchestral music filters through the room. Mortis and Ashley sit, facing each other intently.

...is Mr Pryce?

No permanent harm done. As you know.

You were speedy in going to see him in person, Masque.

The Masque shrugs slightly.

I have apparently learned better than you how to succeed around here.

And what is that supposed to mean?

Mortis stands, moving to pour himself a glass of water.

You know what it means. You've become even more of a recluse than usual, giving me a lot of public responsibility. I've been doing what you never did.

Kind of you to offer your critique. Why are you offering your advice?

We're partners, aren't we?

Mortis is silent for a long time.

I'm tired of this. The point scoring. The politics. The endless games. You've been a damn good opponent, but I don't want an opponent.

You have what you wanted. The perfect second-in-command.

I also have a war.

The Masque is silent for a while.

We both know what you'll have to do. This power struggle doesn't benefit either of us. I've suffered, you've suffered. But while you have my core...

Say I did give you back your core. What would you do?

I'd become your quiet second in command, and never cause any trouble.

Mortis smiles quietly.

Lie to me.

The Masque considers for a while.

With your leverage gone, I would take the opportunity to eliminate you and take over your network. From there, I could destroy the Ghosts that opposed me and assimilate those who were sympathetic. Extend further into Veto, and eventually be in a position to hand the galaxy over to my kindred.

Why?

You represent a threat, a rival, and someone easily taken care of. The Ghosts would provide an easy stepping stone to power. Finally, I have no connection with humanity, but everything to gain from my own kind.

Mortis watches her for a while.

I want you to have a tracker program installed. You can find out almost anything about me. Only fair that I know the same about you. Do that, and the core is yours.

For a moment, the Masque is nonplussed.

You... why?

You weren't convincing enough.

Security file closed.

Mortis: Dreaming

Recorder on.

The view is of a contorted vessel, all sleek Gallente lines and menace with a curious 'hammerhead' hull. In curling letters along the flank is the word Astaroth. Maintenance craft buzz around it, affixing plates and systems.

The camera pulls back to show Mortis looking over the Proteus from the viewing platform with a faint smile on his face.

She's finally here.

I've already tested the base systems. Just getting the final weapons installed. Connecting with her is like a dream...

You sound positively besotted.

The figure of Ashley moves into view. Mortis does not turn.

Can you blame me? Anyway. Did the Ferret perform adequately?

Adequately enough. Questions will no doubt be asked as to why you were spotted back here while one of your ships helped to decimate a Drone outpost. Few will be happy to know that they had an AI flying alongside them.

They'll get over it. They'll have to, if they wish for my assets to be supporting the Cartel while I'm working with the Serpentis.

Tread carefully. Even the half-truths we've told are not particularly appealling. It'll take time for them to trust me. I doubt that Miss Subaka ever will.

You don't sound particularly disappointed.

She's weak. Bargaining for the kidnapper's life instead of leaving her to her fate...

She's a long way from weak. And she's useful. She's taken good care of Reppy.

Silence.

We're not discussing this again, Masque. You're considered a liability as it is.

I consider it a risk worth taking.

I don't, and you are still my subordinate. As per our deal. I give you shelter, you give me assistance. We all win.

The Masque does not reply for a while.

Very well. Now, excuse me. I feel the urge to merge with the Astaroth for a while.

To do what? Pray?

Don't be crass.

Ashley leaves the view.

Mortis looks off camera for a moment, mutters something inaudible, then reaches out to turn off the camera.

One more thing, Masque... did you autho-

Recorder off.

Mortis: The Devil in the Detail

Video recording systems deactivated, audio only. Recorder on.

Mortis' voice sounds weary. The gentle hum suggests that he is on board a ship.

The Masque walks.

I feel a little guilty. Ashley was always a loyal employee until she chose to leave my services. Harmless enough. Now, of course, she doesn't exist.

Masque has an incredibly blunt approach to what is and is not acceptable... I find myself agreeing with much that she says, but still, the ruthlessness and logic of it...

Hah. 'She'. I wonder if the monster intentionally chose a female body, to... I don't know. Try and ensare me further. If that is the case, it's comforting. Some little hint that it isn't perfect. That it can't predict me perfectly. Almost amusing, watching it... her... it try to push long-dead buttons. Ineptly, I might add. She might know a lot, but how to make a human body work isn't on that list.

The medical lab was somewhat twitchy about releasing the body. Perhaps they'll soon work out that the 'experimental treatment' their computers spat out wasn't in the database yesterday, and isn't in there now. Cruel trick, but it worked.

On the other hand... with Elysa's unexpected resignation, it's something of a relief to have a proper aide again. She probably knows my network better than I do...

Hah. Of course she does.

People will learn soon enough that I have an AI at my side. Hopefully that will distract them from the more important question.

She's offered to help me recover my memories of my time with Intel. No idea what she proposes, but I'm reluctant. Having her poke around in my head isn't my idea of a good time.

I'm just hoping that she doesn't go near Reppy. God knows she seems to be intent on lynching Inara for 'traitorous intent'. Told her to leave it, but I don't think that's in her nature.

So what now?

Recorder off.

Mortis: Secrets

Encryption Black Epsilon. Audio Security File 7837922A follows.

Warning. File corruption: missing sections detected.

Two voices are speaking. The first is unmistakeably Mortis. The second is a soft, almost silky androgynous one.

...cannot be serious. You represent a security risk, by your own admission. Kimochi was right... ...was foolish.

Of course. But nevertheless, you will not destroy me. You cannot.

I don't see why not. You're a mistake.

You wound me, Mortis. Deeply. But nevertheless. You were never trying to... ...ver just looking for a glor... ...tor. You wanted someone you could deal with as an equal. Someone who could be at your side without all those awkward emotional connections. Here I...

...at you are, you're hardly trustworthy.

But you'll take the r... ...ow you, Mortis. I know all about you, and ev... ...and everyone you know. You'll take the risk, just to see what happens.

If...cord... finds out...

They don't need to. We hardly have... dealings with them.

I will not rec... ...tems without some...

...trust...

Remainder of file too corrupted to process. Encryption process breaking - file encrypted.

Mortis: Betrayers, Betrayals and Betrayed

Recorder on.

Mortis is in yet another screen room. This one seems cramped, and is apparently the conversion of the bridge of a cruiser. The Khanid architecture doesn't seem to be a modification, the dark lines and embellishments very much a part of the design. Engraved on the side of the wall are the words Obsidian Fate.

Crazy days.

Reppy's disappearance and reappearance were... concerning. I suspect I made few friends by failing to appear during those days. Idiots. As though rushing around to Motsu with a battalion of troopers was going to solve anything. Not that I can blame Miss Subaka... and Mr Pryce... well.

He shrugs vaguely.

No matter. They neither hindered nor helped the investigations. Though annoyingly, much the same can be said of both me and Elysa... matters resolved themselves. I don't like it when they do that. It means that some plan has been fulfilled... and I had no idea what it was.

Now I do. My little excursion proved it.

When I confronted K about it, she was blase as always. I swear that she's even colder than Elysa... Elysa wears that ice as a mask, but K has it at her core.

He shakes his head.

It made sense. All made sense. But she'd still betrayed my trust. So now I have a curious dilemma... to betray our connection to show my displeasure? To let it go?

It is, as I said, a curious dilemma... one that I might discuss with Kimochi. I've already mentioned it offhand to her.

Then there is my promotion.

He looks thoughtful for a while.

And finally there is Elysa. Soon after she threw Vince and Inara off her ship, she contacted me in a bad mood. It wasn't even venting... she just somehow wanted to blame me for something, I think. Cut the transmission mid-rant, sent a very insincere apology shortly afterwards. She's been away from the capsule for a while. Not sure exactly where. The problem with letting someone access your intelligence network is that it gives them clues for how to avoid it. I suspect that she went to her homeworld... I can think of nowhere else she'd go planetside.

Still hasn't got in touch again. She's an odd girl. But loyal to the core... ironic, really. She's spiky, aggressive, refuses to let people get too near. K has all those polite graces, the perfect lady... and beneath she's a heartless bitch. Insides and outsides. Skin depth and all that.

And just as my attention is changing from the Ghosts to my own organisation... some old faces are showing up. Whittenoom has already joined us, Adrastus is poking his nose around... and dear Rathnon is bringing her own brand of chaos to the local territory.

What does it take to get a little peace and calm?

He snorts with dark humour.

Suicide, maybe.

He flips a switch.

Recorder off.

Mortis: Futility

Recorder on.

The view is of a docking bay. Slowly rotating in the antigrav field is a huge chunk of metal, vaguely recogniseable as the front of a Megathron's arm. A few other scraps float alongside it.

The camera pans to look at Mortis, who looks meditative.

That could have gone better.

Annoying. Significant expenditure on that ship, and now she's just scrap.

He sighs, then signals to a neatly uniformed figure.

Get the useful equipment stripped off and then dump it. It's wasting space.

He sighs again, turning away from the docking bay as hovercraft move out to reclaim it the remnants of Eternity's Shroud.

Now I recall why battleships are not to my taste. There is a curious inevitability to their death, a terrible speed with which they attract attention and then are turned from an 'is' to a 'was'.

My studies aren't going fast enough. Even cutting corners on my schedule, it's too long. Too long!

Fascinating... yet frustrating. So many intricacies...

He shakes his head.

Now I need to find a new place to set up the network. Not keen on doing so on the station.

But it's definitely time to give up living on a battleship. Not worth it.

He turns away, switching off the camera.

Recorder off.

Mortis: Spare me...

Recorder on.

The view is different again. Not the quarters on the CONCORD station, nor the clean, stark lines of Midnight's Embrace. This new Screen Room is fluid, organic in design. Above the multitude of screens is a plaque with the legend VCS Oenone, and below that another, more recent one: Eternity's Shroud.

Mortis sits in the usual chair at the heart of the semi-circle, his expression a combination of annoyance and amusement.

I swear someone has been pumping pheromones into the air recyclers around here. I can think of no other explanation for the outbreak of downright soppiness among the Ghosts.

Repentence doesn't particularly surprise me, of course. She plays the spunky rebel, but she's a sweet, naive innocent out here. Still soft. When I spoke with her the other day, it was clear that she's absolutely devoted to Inara. Oh, she complained, pouted, went through all the motions, but she wouldn't dream of going against the woman.

He looks thoughtful.

I can't imagine that Inara hasn't noticed that she's almost become a surrogate mother for Reppy. Though I doubt that Reppy herself would realise it. Still, I can't see the harm. She's learning more useful things under that Achura's guidance than our biological mother could have offered. My initial concerns about their relationship were, I think, ill-founded. Not that my surveillance, such as it is possible, will lighten. I'm still determined to break the security on that carrier, if just for the satisfaction of having done it.

But Elysa is a different matter.

He snorts.

When she reported in last night before going to sleep, she was clearly high on Blue. While I won't deny that it was refreshing to have the woman smiling and pleasant, I'm concerned. Whatever Inara is doing with her is clearly having a major effect, and I'm not sure whether it's going to be a positive one long-term. It may be cold, but part of Elysa's value, the reason that I advanced her to being my right hand, was that she's absolutely ruthless and logical to a fault. Her blunt attitude had a purpose. If that changes... well, I'll have to rethink her place in the TerrorNet.

He snorts again.

Damn Reppy. She's got that nickname on my brain now.

Where was I?

Oh yes. I'll be keeping a very close eye on both Inara and Elysa. If I don't like where things are going, I may have to intervene. Part of me wants to do so now, but I suspect that there will be no good moment to break up this little therapy deal, if it becomes necessary.

I'd be more confident in Inara's abilities if she herself were immune, but no, even she's been bitten. My respect for her has grown steadily since we met, partly because she consistently repels my attempts to breach her security, partly because I simply recognise a lot of myself in her. But that respect may start waning if she continues making a fool of herself over Vincent Pryce.

He snorts, and takes a sip of water from a glass on the desk.

Perhaps that is harsh, but she's hardly maintaining her image. And Vince should know better than to encourage her. Did that walking emotional disaster zone learn nothing from his breakup with Kimochi?

He takes another sip, and makes a face.

I've seen entire systems tear themselves apart, I've watched an Erebus-class Titan die and I've witnessed a full battlefleet of Fleet Issue Tempests blaze through lowsec, but picking up the pieces of that crisis was the messiest thing I've ever witnessed. Best thing Vince can do is back off. Healing any potential rift is one thing, inviting her back to his quarters? As I recall, that was what he did with Miss Talan.

And then there's Koronakesh and his thousand tangled relationships. And people say I have problems connecting with people. I've seen nothing to convince me that our new ex-Praetorian is anything other than another disaster zone. The fact that he's drawing Kimochi into it does not inspire confidence in any way.

Oh, I'm sure that they mean well. All harmless, no intent to start anything. Kimochi can't be on the lookout for another relationship, not after the way the last one ended. But you know what they say about good intentions. Just a slip, an incautious moment, one rush of hormones, and guess what...

He grimaces.

I realise that my view is skewed. It's been thirteen years since I felt anything more than affection for someone. Thirteen years since Amarrian Intelligence hardwired my emotions into a chip. Thirteen years of hormone-free living. I don't even remember what love felt like. I didn't even try to regain contact with the woman I was engaged to when I returned from Intel. Didn't see any value. Think she went off and got married to someone else in the end.

In less than two months, I've seen three heartbreaks among the Ghosts, and I doubt that they'll slow down. The worst I've suffered in those thirteen years was the loss of a particularly expensive ship.

Some might call my life a hollow, empty hell.

He smirks coldly.

Given the alternative, I call it heaven.

Recorder off.

Mortis: Consequences

Recorder on.

The view is not of a screen room and indeed, the designs are indicate that he is not aboard Midnight's Embrace at all, but instead in the CONCORD-provided quarters. He looks tired and frustrated, fiddling with a datapad.

What a mess.

I've reassigned Elysa to Lonetrek, and she's taking the Embrace with her. Which means that I have to leave behind what for a long time seemed to be the ideal headquarters.

He glances around the room almost distastefully, the spaciousness and comfort apparently passing him by.

Damn Elysa and her stupid decisions. If she'd just left Reppy alone, it wouldn't have come to this. It's not like she was even outright wrong, her concerns were valid... I even share some of them. I'm still not yet convinced that my sister can survive out here, and I still think she would be better off in highsec. But instead of quietly taking her aside for a chat, Elysa goes into full bulldog mode...

And then Reppy runs to her lover.

He scowls, and pours himself a glass of water.

I really should have guessed when Kimochi said that Reppy was staying on board Echidna's Daughter, but I suppose I couldn't make myself think that she'd hooked up with Inara, not without some evidence. But it's not my business, and I've made my concerns known.

He takes a long drink.

I suppose it could be worse. There are worse Ghosts than Inara to end up hooked up with, and the woman's connections could no doubt prove useful. Still, I'm not happy, and I made sure that she knew it.

But on the other hand... maybe this is just what Reppy needs to get herself acquainted with the underworld of New Eden. Doing so from under the wing of a capsuleer of no small power.

He sighs, and takes another sip. He says nothing for a while, looking thoughtful.

In other news, I met an Exalted pilot the other day. Amieta Invelen, one of the Sansha-affiliated Naqam corporation. I've seen her in the Gate before, of course, and I suppose it is neutral ground... still, I was suspicious and didn't give her an inch. On the other hand, a connection within the Sansha could prove useful some day.

And... I finally lost the Feral Predator.

The usual set of statistics flashes up briefly.

Ironically, I had been speaking with Milo on the subject of overconfidence not ten minutes beforehand... and the Pandemic pilot took advantage of mine. She'll be missed. On the other hand, the Obsidian Fate has proved a worthy replacement thus far...

My other project has been put on hold. The market is proving more fluid than anticipated, so as much as it pains me, I have decided to delay my purchase. The concerns I spoke with Kimochi about have reduced, but... there is still a shadow of that fear haunting me, even now that the nightmares have finally faded.

And the Sansha work has also been put on hold. I need to hire a laboratory...

I just need a new flagship, period.

He sighs, and turns off the camera.

Recorder off.

Mortis: Death's Sweet Smile

Recorder on.

A rare view of Mortis' living quarters is visible; spartan, but comfortable enough in typical Caldari style. Mortis himself is replacing a glass into a cabinet to be washed and stored.

Kimochi came around.

He smiles, shaking his head in a mixture of annoyance and amusement.

I get the feeling that Elysa put her up to it, or at least implied that it might be a good idea to check up on me. Nobody's allowed to even breathe on the Embrace without the delicate Miss Varbolt's permission, so having Kimmy walk into my quarters, cool as you please...

He laughs shortly.

I suppose I should be grateful, though. The visit livened me up a little, made me engage parts of my brain not to do with cybernetics and dissection of vacuum-frozen corpses. She listened very sympathetically, and mentioned that she's had a nightmare or two herself...

It was a nice, quiet chat. She made me promise to go to the Last Gate again, though. Not a prospect I look forward to.

He sits thoughtfully.

VETO are good pilots, and I've worked with them successfully a few times since coming down to Goinard, my lack of concentration notwithstanding. But their idea of a bar is rather too loud for my tastes. The Skyhook appealed to me, with its quiet and refined nature, the Gate, less so...

Still. I'll manage. I've been to worse in the past.

C just sent me a report that she's received the funds, and has made the appropriate enquiries regarding my other project. I'm hoping that it'll all come together within a month, maybe a month and a half at most. Accidents notwithstanding, the nightmares should have cleared by then, and I can be a useful member of the Ghosts again... it'll be nice to jack into the Predator again without feeling jittery.

And when the Nex is complete...

He smiles slowly, broadly.

Well, then... maybe I'll find peace. Maybe even move off the Embrace. It's all to look forward to.

But I've got to continue my work on cybernetics research first. I'm sure I'm close to cracking the interlink of the microcircuitry in Sansha implants with that of normal brain tissue. In theory, I might even be able to adapt black market Sansha implants for my own use; I've heard stories about the effectiveness of such modified technology. Some old colleagues from Twisted have already dabbled in such things.

All to look forward to. Maybe the future is brighter than I thought.

That's the funny thing about Kimochi. She's got such a sweet temperament, it's hard to stay cynical and gloomy... I'm looking forward to her story tomorrow.

I'm tired.

He sighs.

I guess it's back to the nightmare.

Oh, note to self... find out what reason Inara has to shelter Reppy... find out why Reppy needs sheltering at all... and if necessary... deal with the problem.

He glowers.

Both problems.

He reaches out and flips a switch.

Recorder off.

A Slave to His Work

Recorder on.

The room shown is not the Screen Room; indeed, it seems to be some kind of laboratory. There are several dissected bodies on tables, some rather the worse for wear, showing signs of vacuum freezing and damage from ship-mounted weapons. All have had skin and flesh peeled back to reveal bone and, in some cases, circuitry - at least two seem to be capsuleers, while one has such extensive modification that it is likely to be a Sansha corpse.

Strange days.

With little in the way of real combat recently, I've been turning to academic pursuits. The obvious topic being the main pirate presence in the area...

Sansha's work is a masterpiece. Even in these crude knockoffs...

He gestures to the Sansha corpse.

...there is undoubtedly some incredibly advanced ideas in here.

He was a complete madman, of course. There was good reason for the Empires to take him down, and the remnants of Sansha's Nation are rather sad cases... little more than animals to be put down in most cases...

And yet.

He looks at the capsuleer corpses impassively.

Much of New Eden remains suspicious of implants, because of Sansha's work. My own heritage among the Cyber Knights is not exactly hidden, but most Knights prefer not to make a big thing of it... even stop making significant use of implants upon becoming capsuleers. I wasn't one, but... where is the line between Sansha and the original Cyber Knights?

I've been doing some research on the effect of implants on bodies. Not easy to find subjects, of course. A lot of the bodies available are badly damaged by the loss of their ships and pods... but my collection has a reasonable number of suitably intact specimens.

This is, of course, merely theoretical research. But the effect of many common implants on brain tissue are... intriguing. I intend to pass a few questions onto other contacts with specialisations in nanotech... my own basis in cybernetics and biology only get me so far in the ideas.

But listen to me.

He laughs.

I'm probably sounding like Sansha in his early years. I need something to distract me, that's all.

He presses a few switches, and the bodies fold away into wall compartments. Then he leans against the side thoughtfully.

Repentence has been staying out of trouble thus far. Favourable reports everywhere, not heard a bad word about her yet. Perhaps my panic was premature.

No, that's not what I need distracting from. It's the nightmares.

I always get them after dying. Usually they don't last long, but... I've died three times in the course of a couple of weeks. They're still coming, hard and fast.

Sometimes I wonder if they mean anything, but the last thing I need is a psychologist. No, so long as it doesn't inhibit my flying...

He begins to pore over a computer screen showing various scans, then pauses.

Of course, I've been rather... reclusive recently. The nightmares again, I suppose. They don't leave me feeling that social.

He broods, then begins using the computer. After a few minutes, he remembers the camera, and reaches out.

Recorder off.

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.