Three Months

It has been three months since I sent my crew home to their clutches. I could no longer bear the burden of their safety on my conscious. I had to send too many of their brothers and sisters home to their clutch-mothers, in boxes; if I had anything of them to send at all. I became responsible only to myself.

The view of the Galaxy from the cockpit of a Hawk-fighter is much different than that from the command chair of a massive Behemoth or even a Gargantua or Chitin. The Galaxy becomes very personal. The only thing that separates me from our common-mother is ten centimeters of Ebidium. It is humbling.

I have spent three months continuing my studies from the Refuge that is no more. Instead of trapping the beasts behind the walls of the Refuge I have gone to seek them in the great galactic wild. I have run dissipation tests on countless numbers of Electro-magnetic fauna. I have pushed myself and my ship to the very limits against the mighty Euryales of the Union Contingent. I have worked diligently to clear the space lanes of Nhandu and Cor Caroli of X-993 Battlecruisers. It is shocking how much destroying them feels like shooting down another pilot.

I have passed silently by old friends in the night, my antennas no longer configured to receive their common frequencies. It has been three months since I left them as well. Our paths are not quite parallel.

My failures haunt me. Failures as a Commander, as a freedom fighter, and as a sapient being.

The galaxy sees straight through ten centers of Ebidium. The greatest Union Armorer can create nothing to stop her gaze. It is comforting to know that she sees me.

Comfort is a valuable commodity, alone in the void.