Day Unknown? 1: New ship, new log, new scars. My old journals got fried on the Grant, so I have to use this new one I have to put together on the Zion, with a generous donation of paper from Linh. I suppose the only thing I can write about is the mission. The sooner I forget about the Zion, the better. That entire time, I got that feeling I get when I'm nervous, or I feel something's off. Sometimes, it feels like little cockroaches crossing my skin and other times it feels like a bunch of little needles dancing and stabbing into me. Should I tell them about that and come clean about it? We went through the desert like a bunch of goddamn ghosts. Geeste van die Woestyn. The sand felt good, felt like home. Everyone hates desert ops, but I love them. The scorching heat of the sand and sun, the chilling nights, and danger all around. Reminds me of better times. I was given command of Blue, until Redbrick didn't need to help out with unloading and took command thank God. I was made her second and we moved out. Took a while, but they showed up. A firefight went down, but we pulled through like always. Pavlov ran off, was mixing with Orange, on adrenaline most likely. Did he have something to prove? Was he trying to show us Arsenal's death wasn't in vain? Right then and there, I should've made the call, kept my eye on him. I even offered, he stuck to my side in that warehouse till we moved out, but that all went up in shit.
When we boarded that ship, something came over me. Redbrick had to run back and help the Zion move the supplies in time. I don't know if it was nervousness, or determination. We had to take that ship, we had to. No routing, no retreating, it was all or nothing, right then and there. I took command and made our merry way to the second floor of the ship. I hit up the research lab first, found about 4 "researchers". One woman, two older looking gentlemen, and a younger one. We stripped them off weapons and comms when I ordered Blue to regroup and detain them. We were on our merry way doing that when Redbrick called in, saying she was back. Right then and there, right fucking then, there is shouting and gunshots and then over the radio someone goes: "Pavlov's dead, securing area". It's a goddamn sign, I'm telling you. Fate is a thing you don't push. That one op where I lead the entire damn thing? Fate let it slide, but these are warnings. First it was Witt, my carelessness in checking those fuckers in the hospital lead to him dying. Now it's Pavlov. Truth be told, Pavlov was "alright" leaning towards the prickish side. I feel responsible, but not as bad as Witt on my consciousness. Regardless, it's a sign. "You lead, they die." I've had this talk before with the other NCOs, they gave me advice, counseled me, stopped me from removing my Lance rank. I don't want to stick out, I don't want to waste their time and breath on a basket case like myself. I just got this bad feeling. Now that I'm a Corporal, drops lose that "fun". All I had to do his shoot, listen to orders, and die all proper. Now I usually get that needles feeling across my skin. Ito, the Marauder, I know what she thinks about me, ever since Witt. It's maddening. I have to ask myself daily, do I have the resolve to lead? Do I have the stomach to accept that men and women's friends will die on my watch and that they'll turn on me and hold a grudge within their heart till the day we die? They're trusting me here, normally, I'd never have made it this far, but with NCOs dropping, desperate time calls for desperate measures. I can't quit or fail, now that they've had this talk with me and trusted that I do my bloody duty.
I think I could hear morale crack, when we swept the ship and they told us Linh died. Someone in the vents. I led two of Blue Team in there to do a sweep. I walked right past them. I said it was clear. I was probably one of the last few people to ever see her alive again, other than Winters. Confess to Zaki I messed up? Everyone felt like shit. Orange swept there, the engineers made that room their bitch, and I walked a small squad through there. It hit Zaki hard. Too hard I think. We have to watch him now, I fear what he can do by himself, alone, although I think he's stronger then considering that option, but taking chances is why Witt's dead. Drivas smashed his radio out of grief and anger, blamed himself. I know how that feels, but I told him there was nothing anybody could do, or at least, nothing he could've. A deep dark part of me wants to shake its smug little head in pity. Romantic relationships in the Mobile Infantry? In the Military? It's asking for tragedy. Please God, don't let this happen to Erhart and Miller. I can hardly blame anyone though, our work is tough and at any moment you can die, you want to make the most of it and find your soul mate. The funeral was shorter than I expected, but to drag it out would've cost Zaki his remaining sanity I think. Pavlov was the first. I gave my words and took responsibility. Although, I didn't get the same looks as the others. They gave me these weirder looks. I saw them and it went from needles to daggers. I felt like I was going to collapse, but I simply pulled my hat down and walked back. Linh was awful. To see the men and women of the 112th cry is soul crushing. To see Zaki cry, after all those humor filled flirts with Linh on the Zion, it broke a bit of me too. The man doesn't deserve it. We left soon after, tired and broken. For most, it was repaired with alcohol and confessions with a trusted friend. For me? It's writing about all the shit that's really on my mind. This is therapy for me, writing my own thoughts to read, over and over again. It got better, when people realized Zaki was completely out of it. Small jokes flowed back in, radio chatter soon sprung up again. It was eerie, how quickly their death's seemed to flow through and out us, but I'm smarter than that. It isn't over for some, especially not Zaki I think. I don't want to be sent adrift to the cold heartless stars and space. I don't want to be seen like that, I don't want that to happen if I die. I gotta re-write my will again. Cremation, then scattered over a planet if possible. Maybe a lush peaceful world for my spirit to move with the wind, or a desert world to return to the land that spawned me. This was a good "Session". Marauder and Fleet chick popped on the couch though. Going to have to end it here. Should anyone have searched and examined the journal: Page One is stuffed with photos of the bridge like bookmarks, the majority of the pictures are that of the cockpit and the stars the view provides. Although, some feature apparent selfies of a woman, known as "Wolf" to her fellow Fleet Personnel with various consoles in the background.
