Personal Diary: December 6th, year 114

The more I have contact with pod-pilots, the more I despise them. Self-centered beings as they are, focused on their needs and wills, not caring for others or any sort of true goals. Liars, cheaters, anything goes for them. Even among those who call themselves loyalists, some of this traits exist, even if in lesser measure.

But I guess that’s what I have to deal with now that I’m out here in the cold. I have my own faults and mistakes, so I guess I don’t deserve better treatment than the rest.

At least, the plan advances as intended. A contact in Amarr got me a couple missions fighting here and there. I had almost forgotten how easy it is just to let go, to give the order to the cannons to shoot and forget that what’s exploding before you is a hull full of human lives. And now, I can’t even say it’s for the Empire, it’s just for isk. I’ve fallen from real duty to that of a disposable mercenary.

My laser cannon (I can only afford one for now) pierced through the hull of a few Minmatarr ships. Rebels and traitors, or freedom fighters as they call themselves. I’ve been fighting them, one way or another, for the last decade, and they still resist vanishing. I fought them during my training years as a Fleet Cadet, and as I grew in rank. They were the main enemy when I commanded my first battleship in the first campaign in the Bleak Lands, right after Karishal Muritor’s invasion, and once again when I finally was in command of a small squadron during the second invasion, under the orders of Admiral Saracen of the 7^th Imperial Fleet. And once again as an Imperator Commander during the 24^th Imperial Crusade.

I’ve seen them die, I’ve killed them, but I’ve also seen them kill my men and even myself. I should hate them as most officers do, they are the cause of many of the Empire’s ills, and even dared attack CONCORD and the main systems of the Empire before the intervention of our returned Empress. They caused the death of my father in combat as he commanded his ship, and he was no pod pilot who can return from the dead. And even one of my brothers was killed by them when they raided a transport ship in which he was traveling with his family.

And yet, I don’t. Hating them would make it all so much easier, and yet I can’t find it anywhere inside me. I wish I could, I really do.

So now, all I have is orders to guide myself. But not the clear orders of the Navy chain of command, whose goal is clearly to defend the Empire. No, now I only have politicians, bureaucrats, noblemen… all seeking to use me to further their goals.

And, for now, I have to accept. At least, I have finally been able to purchase a Punisher frigate and start fitting it, but it’ll be quite some time before I can free myself of those petty humans and their petty, egotistic, needs.