Personal Diary: April 24th, year 115

Today is a grim day. Even after the surgery really improved my compatibility with the pod implants again, today they failed me. And I was supposed to be leading a squad in the Bleak Lands, to teach the new members of PIE the ropes of Faction Warfare. I guess it'll have to be postponed, I can't FC like this, not without getting everybody killed.

Which is increasingly easy. I died today, my second time, and I don't get used to it. My new clone feels... strange, unconfortable, and I'm uneasy inside of it. Like a suit that is not quite exactly the appropriate size. Not to mention the crew of the destroyer I was flying, several of them didn't make it in time to the escape pods. I'll have to compensate the families, somehow.

But I'm afraid, as things stand, that won't be the last time I walk that path. The Bleak Lands have almost fallen into Minmatarr hands. Saikamon will probably fall tonight, and then only Sahtogas will be left. Sahtogas, HQ of the Praetoria Imperialis Excubitoris, won't be able to resist long under the pressure of an enemy that outnumbers us and outguns us by so much. Specially after the tensions and problems that have sent several important corporations of our side into disarray or, even, into the enemy side.

A grim day indeed. But, as things stand, I don't think we've reached the darkest hour yet. We better brace for the storm that's coming our way.

Ship Log: Memories of Diplomacy

The Summit, recording started
Date: april 22nd, year 115
Pilots present: too many to list.

Sepherim > as for good war stories, it would depend on what you consider good
Silas Vitalia > Maybe we can discuss it further in the future. I'm curious how low you got before reaching where you are at now.  And if your current position is upwards or downwards, perhaps. We'll see.
Silas Vitalia > Time to be off. Sleep tight, heathens.
Sepherim > I'm not ashamed of my past failings, so feel free to ask
Rhiannon Dellacorte > Bye
Vlad Cetes > I'm not a heathen
Narcisa De Fontaine > How am I going to know that unless you tell me? Come on, you must have one you know is good.
Uriel Khaden > "There is nothing to be ashamed of if we learn from our failings."
Rhiannon Dellacorte > Me either. I'm a heretic.
Sepherim nods to Uriel
Adreena Madeveda > Captain Sepherim, do you have one where you fraternize with an ennemy and it makes it harder to fight him ? I like those ones.
Sepherim > stories are long, I'm not sure it would be appropriate to monopolize the channel for such an amount of time
Sepherim nods
Sepherim > you know I do, captain Madeveda
Sepherim grins
Adreena Madeveda chuckles > I should have seen that one coming, I guess.
Sepherim > but yes, I do have some, from before I met you
Sepherim > very well, since no one said anything against it, I'll tell a story
Adreena Madeveda > And I hope the silence is the eagerness of the attendance to hear it.
Sepherim smiles
Sepherim > it was back during the second attempt of the Defiants to take over the Bleak Lands
Sepherim > I had already fought them before and had already grown to respect them as capable and honorable warriors, even if I didn't agree with them
Sepherim > but our interactions were somewhat limited
Sepherim > but as one of the main officers in the Navy Intelligence assigned to that area, that was about to change
Sepherim > you see, after the first weeks of combat had followed, and many capsuleer organizations had been mobilized to aid both sides in the war
Sepherim > it soon became clear that neither side would get a quick victory, but it'd be a painful and long one
Sepherim > so an attempt was made to meet and start debating a solution to the conflict
Sepherim > of course, an unofficial and unsanctioned one, but such is often the nature of the Intelligence efforts
Premier Sovian > I can do this quicker! "There were some big corps and they went and took space. Then they decided that taking more space was a pain in the balls so they agreed to not fight each other and thus all became friends. They also all became really bored"
Premier Sovian > And so they do stuff like this, which isn't really allievating the boredom much but hey. It's something.
Adreena Madeveda > Shut up, Premier.
Sepherim > hmm, no, I don't think that's how it was, captain Sovian. Unfortunately, no peace was reached in the end
Premier Sovian > Trundle on then
Sepherim > well, meeting was to be had in Auga. Officially, though it was lowsec, it was out of the war theater
Sepherim > I must admit I was relatively nervous, as I had never been a part of a diplomatical group before, even if I went as security enforcer. And I hadn't yet been out of the Empire, so it would be a complex mission
Sepherim > but there we went, me and one of the squads under my command, right into Auga
Sepherim > Moon 10 around planet 5, Joint Harvesting Refinery. I'll never forget that place
Sepherim > it was strange in look, in smell, in organization. No gold to be seen anywhere, nor any of the usual signs and emblems so present in the Empire
Sepherim > and so full of Matari, that looked at us with interest and some suspicion, but less than I'd expect, I guess now that they were used to seeing Ni-Kunni merchants
Sepherim > there were scheduled four rounds of negotiation, to be held in public places like bars so no attention was drawn to us
Sepherim > afterall, our group was formed of four men, as most of my squad would remain in the docks near their ships in case they were needed, and the Minmatarr party was of similair size
Sepherim > the first round went by, and then the second. Tension was high, and trust was hard to find to say the least
Sepherim > the representants the Minmatarr sent weren't sure they were willing to negotiate the Defiant's retreat, nor were we willing to retreat from the Bleak, so it was all headed to an empty stalemate
Sepherim > it was on the third attempt, in the Gray Owl Bar, downtown in the station, that events took the unexpected turn you asked for, captain Madeveda
Sepherim > we had been discussing for two hours, with no points advanced and no solutions found, when the party of eight Brutor came in, straight towards us
Sepherim > they made claims that we were an offence to the memory of the Defiant's leader, that the Minmatarr would never negotiate or stand down from the freeing of their brothers, that it was our end
Sepherim > I was not a pod pilot back then, and I was afraid
Sepherim > for only fools aren't afraid in the face of danger
Sepherim > so they jumped on us after they made their claims. I stood up to fight them, knowing that I wasn't so good at hand-to-hand combat as these eight men were and that my own men were too far
Sepherim > but I stood, nonetheless, just to give time for the diplomats to flee
Sepherim > and yet, I saw that the other diplomatic party had started to surround my own proteges, and twelve to one was a lose-lose situation
Sepherim > when all seemed settled, a soft voice was hear behind me, the kind of voice that can be soft because it is used to being obeyed
Sepherim > "stand down, brothers, we shall not kill those that have come to talk. We are not barbarians, and we will not dishonor our tribes by doing so"
Sepherim > I turned, surprised, and saw it was an elder man, dressed like a common worker, who I had seen on the bar on all the occasions
Sepherim > without hesitating, nor saying anything, the eight men stood down, and then I noticed the other four had stood around my own proteges not to threaten them, but to act as shields
Sepherim > I was humbled that day, and I still recall that time with respect, for rarely is honor such seen among enemies
Sepherim grows silent for a moment, a distant smile on his lips

Recording ended

Damocle's Sword

Betrayed. That's how I felt. Betrayed by my own brain, who had started to eat itself. And the doctor's tranquil grin made it no easier to shake the feeling.

-Hedion University is at the head of research into Kasioper's Syndrome right now thanks to the sponsorship of some very wealthy pod pilots that are affected by it. But you have to understand, it's a very rare disease, and thus investigation is progressing slowly.-

Yes, I understood that, even before speaking to him. We all know what Kasioper is: the boogeyman, the monster under the bed, the end of all hope. Every person that became a pod pilot after age 30 had a small percentage of possibilities to be affected by it. Maybe one in a thousand, maybe less. And I had been the one to draw the long straw.

So, my brain wasn't flexible enough to withstand the changes that the pod pilot interface implied. I was compatible with the pod, and yet, each day a little bit less, as the brain started to reject the implants and brain connections that made possible the direct link to the ship. It had decided it didn't want to speak to the massive metal monsters. And the degenerative disease will only spread, like a cancer wanting to steal everything away.

And who was I to complain? What did my hopes, plans and dreams matter? Nothing! Hell be raised, it all meant nothing now that the brain had headed into lockdown. And if I forced it beyond the point of no return, the wet grave would be my reward.

I looked down at my hands, trembling slightly. No, Kasioper's Syndrome has no physical effects, this was pure rage and impotence racing through my veins, impossible to withhold. There was so much to do! So many things to take care of, people to see, battles to fight! This was the end of everything! The fucking, damned end. Period.

-The Syndrome isn't quick- the doctor was saying, noticing my tension-. It could take a month, or a year, or maybe a dozen years or more for it to be definitive. In the meantime, we go on researching, investigating, advancing on our knowledge of it. We might find a cure before it is too late! And there are already some experimental neurological surgeries with nanites that reactivate the connections between neurons and strengthen the link with the pod again. Their effects fade away with time, but meanwhile you will be perfectly functional.-

He said it with a positive tone, trying to cheer me up and give me strength, but all I could think of was that it was ended. I would be flying on borrowed time now, with the reaper's scymtar above my head in case I pushed my luck beyond the point of no return. Damocle's Sword was swinging, waiting, like a cat playing with a mouse that knows can't escape his paws. And I was the fucking mouse, I that was a titan among the stars!

The wet grave. Its image burst into my mind, the voice of all horrors and terrors all pod pilots must face. The final test to endure before becoming one with a ship. I couldn't help but remember Adriniel Varshov, another student when I was in training, who had fell into the definitive comma that failing the test implied. And I... I was heading there now, slowly, one step each day, one breath at a time... closer and closer to my end.

I got up with a strong move and headed towards the door. I could hear the doctor calling out my name behind me, but I didn't care. If I was living on borrowed time, if my end was fated and the timer was running, I'd better use my time to the fullest. There were battles to fight, people to see, things to take care of. There was a brief life to live before it was too late.

I could feel the fear calling out my name from the back of my skull, asking me to stop in freezed panic. But I wouldn't listen. I had gone into battle before being a pod pilot, knowing it could have been my last, and hadn't panicked then. I would certainly not do it now! I might have been betrayed by my mind, but as long as my timer allows me, I'll be atoning for my mistakes and fulfilling my duty.

There is no other possible path for me.