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My father was a man of peace.

Why?

I was a child. I lied about my childhood to enter the services. The service knew this, of course, they had all my records, but who would question the seventeen year old son of a flag admiral? Who would deny me when everyone had.... seen, the torpedoes... rip through my father's vessel, on live news.

I'd made the stupidest mistake an underage seventeen year old could make; I'd enlisted, and now, I was in hell.

I was barely a Leutnant zur See within the gunnery section of a reserve cruiser when the battle of Honshu came. I was young and stupid. I didn't want revenge. I wanted to fill his boots - keep the peace he never lived to see. My handlers had placed me in the reserves till I could... work it out of my system. Play the officer until I'd tired of the uniform. But invasion doesn't wait for that, does it?

The war came. The war my father had struggled to prevent. It would be ironic if it wasn't sick.

I will never know if what the green suits told us is true. The justifications. Over and over again until they stopped talking and started torturing. Some were infected. But most of us were not. We were military men, following orders into hell, carting warheads into bombardment positions on the last days of the apocalypse. We never knew that the state apparatus built to keep us alive had turned on us. Was it surprising the survivors would turn on us? The infection was the great excuse. A man standing in your way? Denounce them. Riots, burning, lynching. An entire government executed. We're few in number, those of us who survived the retreat from Sigma thirteen. Too young to come home to die. Some killed themselves. The hysteria was... insane. When the... 'truth', the truth for some, came out, after the war, my Sister, Annelie, my... Mother...


How many neighbours had to die to weed out the few who'd turned our house against itself?


What if you, those who trained you, were wrong? That you had the wrong man? My Dad advocated peace with the foreign houses, not destruction - he did so till he died. At home, he was a father, he was a gentlemen. He was loved.

Even if he was... a monster. In the shell of a man.

I hugged that shell. And I loved that shell. I would have followed that shell till death.

Did the two hundred and seventy five crew of the RNC Donau deserve to die for him? Maybe. I wish I'd died in their place.

I have lost everyone and everything because of you. My family, my friends, my cause, my house, my home, my name. I am barely alive.

So I suppose I should thank you. For saving the human race.