Saturday, May 30, 2009


Recorder on. I've been having nightmares lately. I'm not used to having nightmares. I always thought of them as being for weak minded fools, simpletons unable to separate guilt from deed. I don't think that anymore. The nightmares I'm having are based on something different. Remorse? Grief? I don't know.

One of the nightmares is of the day I was accepted into the Imperial Academy. My mother and father were on their planetside estates in Youl, where I grew up. I had been speaking with the Naval recruiter at the station in system, and with my excellent service in Carthum I was assured entrance. My aptitude for pod piloting was high as well, and I was excited to be accepted. I was still a young man by Amarrian standards, and my parents did not approve of my military service. Too dangerous. The dream begins with me arguing with my mother, Cora, on the balcony of our estate. My father, Kosomo, has not yet arrived home from his latest business deal. They are trying to dissuade me from going through with my enlistment. My father arrives, and joins in the arguing. While we fight, the MIO bursts onto the balcony, grabbing my parents and throwing them onto their knees, preparing to execute them. I raise my arms, and instead of hands I have giga-pulse lasers. I fire repeatedly at the MIO agents, my shots passing through them harmlessly, my efforts wasted, my parents helpless. My brothers and sisters are brought out as well, and placed next to my parents. I continue firing, to no avail. My family cries out to me as they are executed in front of me, one by one. Only as the last of the MIO kills my mother, agony painted on her face, do my shots take effect, killing the MIO agents. Cora and Kosomo then arise, their faces burned to ash, and point accusingly at me. I back away, falling over the balcony, falling endlessly into a blackhole below my house. After what seems like an eternity, I awake, sweat staining my sheets and my heart racing.

The other nightmare is shorter, but more harrowing. It's Sabikannen, the night that I killed Jall'n's father. Except Inara was away at the time, and I sacrificed Jall'n as well. In my bloodlust, I kill Alexia as well. I revel in the scene, bathing in the blood in a horrifying macabre dance. While I dance, Alexia, Jall'n, and Kerren arise, their skin taut and pale from the blood loss, their eyes empty and hateful at the same time. They approach me, lifting their hands to point accusing fingers at me. Their hair becomes capsuleer plug ins, snaking towards me to plug in and engulf me at every point on my body. I struggle, and they grasp tighter and tighter, suffocating me. As the air leaves my body and I lose consciousness, I awake.

Vaden pauses, breathing rhythmically, sighing once before he continues.

I...I have to get off Drop. I think it, and the Crash, Exile, Blue Pill, and Crystal Egg don't react too well through heavy, chronic exposure. Maybe Inara was right. Hell, maybe I was right. There's no point in wasting eternity being calxed out of my mind. And with these nightmares, I can't go on using, especially if they're contributing to these terrifying experiences. Percruor, I'm a bloodbedamned dreadnought pilot, and I'm afraid of my own mind!

Perhaps I shall have to learn to be...content in my place in a meaningless universe.

Damn Aria.

Recorder off.

Sunday, May 17, 2009

The Point

Vaden paces aboard the large state quarters of a new ship, Raziel's Paragon, as he talks to an eleven man crew. He appears to be finishing up a briefing. The eleven men depart, leaving Vaden alone in the quarters. After pacing for awhile, he pulls out a bottle of Gallente wine, drinking straight from the bottle. The label says Luminaire-YC 82, a pricey vintage. He drinks haphazardly, dribbling wine down his chin and wiping it away with a broad swipe of his arm. He quickly empties the bottle, setting it clumsily on the desk.

Recorder on. What the hell is the point? I walked with Aria outside of the Gate the other night. We talked, about many things, and that damned woman did what she always does. She pointed out my flaws. I don't like that. She also had to point out that she and I were alone among the pilots of Ghost Festival in one regard. We always ask, "why?"

I am an Amarrian. I am also a Sani Sabik. My faith centers on the advancement of the self. The pursuit of power by those with the will and the strength to take it. The laws of God, the laws of nature, survival of the fittest, the dominion of the weak by the strong. But why? What the hell is the point? I'm on board my second capital ship, an Archon I've named after Raziel, a fine examplar of the Sani Sabik. I've amassed so much wealth, so much power. I feel it all amounts to nothing. Immortal I may be, but sooner or later, my brainscan will fail. Some disease or catastrophe will arise that wipes us all out. Maybe we're just puppets to some Jovian play, and they'll launch an attack that kills us all outright. Regardless, one day, long from now, I will die, and there will be no clone to reanimate me. And there will still be no answer to "why?" Power is all temporary. Band of Brothers is proof enough of that. They held Delve for years, and one deranged director destroys the entire thing. Delve belongs to the Swarm now.

I guess I'm just beating around the issue at hand. I've lost focus in my life. I think...I feel I am missing something, or someone. I desire a legacy, although that path is looking bleaker by the day. Children are out of the question. I can't exactly form a nation, or create something with such a lasting impression that historians will remember me centuries after my bones turn to dust. I guess, in the end, my thirst for power will have to be the end of my means, instead of the means to my end. Taken that way, I guess there is no point at all.