Discovery Gaming Community

Entry#: 121
Date: 28 - 10 - 818 AS @ 10:29 SUT
Title: Untitled.

Well. This is bad. This is quite bad. Actually, really bad.

I had booked myself in for a routine check up with my doctor at the clinic yesterday. I had crashed into Gunther's house on Berlin for the duration of the visit. I'm still there now and not quite sure what I should do.

I went to meet my appointment at the clinic and wandered into a gun fight between Felicia, Gunther and Hartmann. They were in a crazy argument over something on the hospital landing pad...

I hid behind the foundation of the front porch of the clinic and watched them all going at it about a hundred meters away or so. Felicia was absolutely rabid.... I'd never seen her acting out like that before.

Two Wraiths, side by side. Felicia standing in the open bay door of one of them, Hartmann sprawled out across the roof, the two girls trying to shoot each other. Gunther was flapping around - trying to fix things, I would assume.

There must have been over a dozen shots fired... Felicia was letting rounds off in every random direction without a care in the world. Erica was limping around making sure she didn't catch any of them. I could see she had already got hit through her leg though. She was bleeding so much I could see it from where I was hiding.

I wanted to help. I wish I could have done something to fix the situation. But I knew if I appeared on the scene I'd be putting Elisa's life at risk - not something I was prepared to do. I was completely unarmed and unarmoured. I just sat there in the snow, hunched down over my legs behind the stone pillar of the clinic observing this shootout between Military officers.

Gunther... snuck up on Felicia and tried to grab her. I thought she was going to shoot him - but he managed to drag her to the ground. She kicked and punched him a few times... I heard him grunting from where I was.

Erica rolled off the roof of the Wraith and fell down to the ground, picking herself up off the floor and... hitting Felicia over the back of the head with her baton.

I thought for a moment that the situation had been resolved when Felicia seemed to stop responding, but she was only out for a couple seconds before coming back and screaming out at Erica and Gunther.

That was when... Erica collapsed. She fell face-first into the snow and didn't move. My blood ran cold when I saw it happen. I had assumed by her earlier vigor in the fight she'd only been grazed by a stray bullet but it quickly became apparent she was in real trouble. There was blood everywhere... staining the snow a dull red.

Gunther and Felicia kept on arguing with each other while Erica lay in the snow, clearly unconscious and in need of urgent help... I don't know if I can forgive my self preservation for holding me back from running over there to help her. It's all too late to change anything now... Hartmann is dead.

Felicia shot her. Gunther couldn't do anything to stop it even though he tried. I didn't do a damn thing to help... I can't believe just how quickly it all happened.

The two eventually stopped arguing with each other and Felicia took off in her Wraith, leaving Gunther alone with Erica. He... he tried to help her, but it would have been too late by then. Erica had been in the snow for what felt like hours by that time... but it was only two or three minutes in actuality.

I sat there myself for some time alone in the almost blistering - yet ice-cold - sunlight, the local time being some odd hour of the "morning".

I mean, I've seen people get killed. Killed plenty of people myself.

But I've never felt so vulnerable before. In this little diary of mine I can be honest with both you and myself. It was scary. I don't think I've felt more afraid before than when I saw the look in Felicia's eyes. That expression lacking in any sanity; bearing no remorse nor forethought for her own actions. I put the life of my child before that of anyone else almost without conscious thought. I guess a new mother can be excused for such an action but I am still somewhat irked by how I acted back there. I'm sure I could have done something to break the chain of events...

I did, after some time, meander into the hospital to try and track down Erica. I ended up being greeted by an old man who told me she had died on the table. She had lost so much blood and body heat out there that her body had fallen past the point of no return. I remember cringing, a twang of pain taking over my chest as I walked out of the hospital like a defeated soldier.

I didn't get much sleep last night and tonight isn't looking much better. I can't help but wonder what is going to happen now. Will there be an investigation? Or will it all be swept under the carpet and forgotten about...

I don't want Gunther to be caught up in something like this, yet at the same time I don't want one of my friends to be disregarded like that. Nor do I want Felicia to go unchecked. She needs help and this.... incident... stands as all the reason needed. She should have been stripped of her uniform a long time ago.

Then this wouldn't have happened. Felicia would be getting the help she needs. Erica would still be talking about boyfriends and dating with me in the common room and Gunther wouldn't have this hanging off his shoulders.

I've lost one of my friends in the Military, someone who really didn't deserve to die. Especially not at the hands of the people who are meant to protect her...

Entry#: 122
Date: 11 - 11 - 818 AS @ 19:20 SUT
Title: Untitled.

It is now vividly clear that those above me in the Military are insistent on Hartmann's death being swept under a carpet and hopefully forgotten about. It is my strong suspicion that someone has written her off as "lost in combat", the girl's parents no doubt informed that Erica was killed in a furious battle with the brutal "insert Corsair/Hessian/Libertonian/Alien" forces protecting the Bundesrepublic Rheinland.

I know what happened. Gunther knows it too... so why does he permit Felicia to fly still? Despite her condition, despite what she's done - I would call it treason.

I saw her attempt to kill another officer on a so-called "training simulation" - except of course training with live rounds in a real ship. She hid it behind a façade of rude denial when it failed but I knew she wanted blood. Why was she outside of a padded cell?

She needs help... and to be made to recompense for what she did.

This inaction. It's infuriating.

I wish I had killed her when I had the chance to. In front of Pacifica Base... holding the lives of half the Unioner movement against that of Felicia. Why did I bother? After all that she has done to not only me, but my friends and everyone around her. I regret not taking action when I could. I thought I thought she was still a "friend" to me.

I was, of course, very wrong.

Whatever bearing we had together is now forfeit. Lost to whatever resides within her mind now.

People I talk to have no idea what happened. Some of them look at me with a confused, thoughtful expression; most just tell me I'm making up stories. Very few believe that Felicia is a murderer.

Killing an enemy in the heat of battle is one thing. You can be forgiven for that, over time. What cannot be forgiven is spilling the blood of your own people.

I keep telling myself that I am in no condition to be stepping into this mess any further. I have too many lives depending on me to get myself killed at her hands now. Of special import is the life of my little girl. I can't jeopardise the life of someone who hasn't even seen the universe yet.

I suspect I'm going to have more than one "superior" looking over my shoulder if I raise the issue. There is a reputation and appearances of the Military to be maintained. Something like this breaking out would be problematic for them and dangerous for me.

But, inaction just isn't my thing now - nor has it ever been. There may only be a little I can do but I'll be damned if I don't do it.

Entry#: 123
Date: 21 - 11 - 818 AS @ 07:20 SUT
Title: Untitled.

I can't help retaining the belief that something is going on behind my back. I haven't seen Gunther in about three weeks now. That in of itself isn't that unusual - rather - a tour of duty can be expected to take that long if not longer. The issue at hand here is that no-one will give me a definite answer on just where he is.

Am I being avoided? Or is there something yet more sinister under way?

I have discovered amongst the ranks a growing number of people who dislike Gunther's responsible and diplomatic approach to conducting the Military. These people bear a lust for the blood of their enemies that the current status quo forbids satiation thereof. The fact that some of these people are in positions of power is now somewhat worrying. The words "coup de tat" were mentioned once and now my mind is locked on that possibility.


No-one will tell me where Gunther is. That means a few possibilities.

Gunther ordered everyone to keep quiet so he can avoid me. Is it because I upset him with my last outburst?

He's on some kind of secret mission whose details are classified. "I'm on a classified mission, see you later."

He's gone AWOL and the people looking for him don't want me getting in the way. "Maybe you know his preferred hiding places?"

There are plans in motion or already at their goal of putting the current Admiral out of the way so a new one can rise to take his place.


Maybe it's the hormones and/or the coffee, alcohol and sex withdrawal symptoms clouding my judgement but the last option seems the most likely to me.

I have two options before me at this stage: Fight and Flight. Do I hang around and try to work out what is happening here, or, do I disappear into the desolate backwaters of Rheinland and hide myself? Thinking logically it makes sense that if someone is after Gunther they'd come after us as well. Tying up loose ends, etcetera. On the other side of the same coin if he rocks up tomorrow and finds I'm gone, well, that wouldn't be any good either.

Our daughter is less than a month from full term. I shouldn't have to run these sort of issues through my mind. I should be thinking about buying baby clothes and whose responsibility changing the diapers will be.

To hell with this. I'm outta here. Misaka takes the Alsatia with Sakura on board; myself, Kana and Fumika will nurse the Maelstrom.

Puerto Rico, here we come. At least we'll be safe there until I work out what the hell is going on with all our lives.

Entry#: 124
Date: 29 - 11 - 818 AS @ 19:21 SUT
Title: Untitled.

As much as one side of my psyche tells me it's bad to think this, I am relieved to be taking part in something that resembles what my life used to be. Smuggling goods through the blockade between Rheinland and Liberty.

After throwing everything and everyone into the two ships we departed Braunschweig and after some careful navigation wound up at Kreuzberg Depot. I counted a few Military patrols who no doubt would have been questioning my conduct amongst themselves, but, I suspect as the Alsatia and Maelstrom are both associated as belonging to the Admiralty, they simply chose to ignore me.

Which, when I think logically, throws dirt in the face of my earlier conspiracy theory.

Still, it doesn't change the fact Gunther hasn't presented himself to me for a very long time with no indication of his whereabouts nor activities.

Anyway. I'm rambling.

I filled both ships to the brim with various cargo and, in fact, three passengers who were interested in making the jump from Rheinland to Liberty - yet were of too high a profile and too low a financial standing to use the legitimate channels.

The three of them proved a capable and, importantly, trustworthy lot; helping me and the girls out tremendously. I ended up making a fantastic deal with them - If they lent us their labour and helped us move the cargo, they'd get their trip free of charge and right to wherever they needed to go.

"Fitzy", "Claire" and "Jules" - an assortment of two of thirty-something lads and one ladette of unknown vintage clearly down on their luck. All of them by their voices and mannerisms appearing as Bretonians like me. Their story, told during the more boring parts of the journey, revealed they used to share control of an old tramp steamer not unlike the Peterborough, ferrying cargo around wherever it was needed at the time.

That was up until the wars between the houses fired up a few years back and inter-house trade slowed to a relative crawl. I noticed the same thing myself when I was still aboard the Peterborough, but we were lucky in that mum made her money in-house and through repeat contracts for the most part. Sole traders like these people got muscled out by the bigger corporations; being forced into lesser and lesser legitimate methods of making their money, which in this case ended up in their only ship being "repossessed" by the loan shark they owed money to.

With the convoy loaded and prepped for the long haul into Liberty we all departed the safety of Kreuzberg and took off through the lesser-known regions of Rheinland. Firstly through a jumphole inside the asteroid field that also hid Kreuzberg, and then the very long way around Hamburg. With a great deal of care and utilising the information granted to me from the Military I avoided any unwanted contact for the entirety of the passage across the desolate backwaters of the system.

Myself at the helm of the Alsatia, Misaka and Sakura gallantly piloting the Maelstrom alongside Kana and Fumika and the extra part-timers at my hand. One thing I have learnt in my time is not to automatically trust people, but, the desperation evident on the faces of this lot was quite apparent. They needed a second chance and I was pretty much it. Rheinland is all but shut off to small time Indies now-a-days, being almost completely controlled by government-supported corporations.

Liberty at least has a market a small timer can worm their way into - even if it won't make you a millionaire it'll beat being derelict any day of the week.

We spent most of the time idly chatting amongst ourselves, using the radio to hold a conference call with the Maelstrom. Misaka of course insistent on enquiring about my well-being with embarrassing frequency. I mean, sure, I'm pregnant, but I'm a big girl and can handle myself just fine. I was more concerned about not only her but little Sakura. Both of them have been neglected by me for some time now as I've been dealing with my own issues. Only now do I find myself with the soundness of mind to worry about them like I used to.

Misaka, for a girl her age, is making a fine cruiser commander. That she is able to manoeuvre the bulky ship around with a steady speed and fair confidence is something I am very, very proud of. Especially taking into consideration when I first found her she couldn't even fly a little freighter without turning white. I have no idea how she managed to survive for that brief period she was with the Chrysanthemums all that time ago.

And of course, the pride of my "family" this little chocolate-haired princess we call our daughter. She can't quite handle a ship herself yet at the age of eleven, but, she is well on her way. She understands how the Alsatia responds to input from the controls and, one day soon, I'm going to take her out somewhere desolate and teach her how to fly properly.

Which moves me on nicely to the two more people I've been neglecting. The little day-dreamer and her princely guardian angel. Considering they're supposed to be my employees the two of them haven't been doing much work lately, besides cleaning and routine maintenance of my ships. That and, they haven't been paid properly for a while.

That is one significant issue that I am now glad can be resolved. I was starting to run out of money. Of course, I'd never tell anyone that but, when the pay-cheques stopped coming in I'm sure the two girls knew something was up. I ditched a good chunk of my saved-up retirement fund to get the loads of cargo in my possession. Now that it's all been sold, for a handsome sum, everyone can enjoy what is owed to them. As much as the two girls insist that food and a place to sleep is all they need, it cannot be denied that money makes the universe turn. I'm sure the two lovebirds will find a way to spend it.

I think Fumika's birthday is coming up soon, I remember we discussed it as being less than two weeks away from mine. Which means Kana will want to buy her something nice to celebrate. And that we'll be throwing a party. And that we'll all spend much more money than we can really afford right now.

Hell. I almost forgot. I turn 22 next Thursday.

It does feel damn good to be back at my old stomping ground. The Maelstrom sits on one side of me, sleeping soundly inside the dry dock of Puerto Rico. Upon the other side rests the long-idle salvager. Aboard the Alsatia all of us are enjoying the spoils of our victorious smuggling operation.

My "guests" are swapping old war stories with the older members of my crew and the younger two are both sound asleep before me. One on the outside, her head nestled within my bosom and the other wrapped up inside waiting for her chance to join her older sister in this crazy, mixed up thing we call a family.

Entry#: 125
Date: 4 - 12 - 818 AS @ 17:54 SUT
Title: Untitled.

Happy birthday to mee ~

The last 48 hours have been rather exciting, to say the least. That and, ludicrously profitable.

I, in command of the Alsatia, wound up at Alcatraz Depot with all the girls aboard plus my three extras. They wished to be deposited there and it was part of my deal to take them, so Alcatraz is where we ended up.

Leaving the safety of the port of Vieques I took the old girl on a spin across the arse-end of Texas, through the well-travelled jumphole to California and wound up at the old icecube the Rogues call a base in a handful of hours - with a nice little delivery of food and other supplies for the locals.

That was where I met one of my old mates, the one going by the moniker of "Cookie". That or just "mate". I actually forgot a long time ago what his real name is.

We ended up flying alongside his old transport to the tradelane linking Planet Mojave to the New York gate. It seemed Cookie'd caught word of an influx of independent miners and their transports from Dublin. According to his sources their has been something of a gold rush in Bretonia amongst those looking to make a buck underneath the waning power of the crown.

It has produced a large number of rag-tag, under-defended, under-escorted and generally under-intelligent mining convoys clogging up the lanes to Liberty and beyond with their barely space-worthy hulks.

Easy targets, ripe for the picking. We garnered a deal to split whatever gold we could nick off with down the middle. Cookie would be the one to "procure it" with his tank of a transport and I would be the one to launder it amongst my circle of trading partners.

We found ourselves staking out the tradelane, Cookie keeping an eye on incoming ships with his (presumably stolen) radar systems. It didn't take long at all for something tasty to spew out the damaged ring and present itself before us: A fully laden and completely unprotected mining ship filled to capacity with gold ore.

After Cookie confirmed the ship's valuable cargo he wasted no time in putting holes in the thing. The poor bastards flying it jumped the escape pod and got outta there without much hesitation, which I guess places them amongst the more intelligent of the miners that I've encountered.

I've seen people choose to go down with their ship instead of giving us what we want and being able to live another day. One would think that losing your cargo alone would be preferable to losing that, your ship, and possibly you life on top of it. I don't and probably won't ever understand the mind of a miner.

Anyway. It didn't take long for Cookie to get a hold of what he wanted - both of our cargo bays full of gold. Our two ships legged it off the lane and disappeared back into the ice field that hides Alcatraz. For the entire expedition we encountered a grand total of zero police or naval vessels and only a small number of the other miscellaneous doodads that occupy populated space.

Here we are, docked beside a giant popsicle inside a field of smaller popsicles with a hold chockablock full of chunks of gold. I am now tasked with finding a buyer for not only my haul but the entire contents of the ship in the next dock, Cookie's battle transport.

Tomorrow shall be the time for such actions. For now, the Alsatia gets a hard-earned rest. As do her crew and commander.

As for other matters...

A variety of birthday presents presented themselves to me from as early as Monday up to the present time. Highlights include a hand-drawn picture from our little bastion of happiness Sakura - a landscape portrait of the lot of us standing side by side with myself in the middle and a crude yet prototypically accurate depiction of the Alsatia itself in the background.

However, the clear-cut winner for birthday gifts this year goes to my little she-devil of a partner in crime Misaka. How such a sweet and innocent-minded little thing managed to "present" herself the way she did is beyond me. Perhaps I have corrupted her mind to the point that this kind of thing is acceptable to her previously juvenile and sheltered mind but the little girl I met back at Ainu would never have even considered such a deliciously naughty stunt as being within her ability.

I hope I have that ribbon around here somewhere still. It sort of floated off without any attention paid after I unwrapped my "present" and made prompt acceptance of the contents.

Hope it doesn't get sucked into the air vent like that other time.

All that aside... I can't help but feel something pulling at my chest whenever I wonder where Gunther is. I think I should go back and find out what's going on. I won't ever get any information out here in the end of Liberty and I feel that I need to know what is happening, if anything at all. It's probably just me being stupid again.

I'm almost willing to wager that if I went back today he'd be sitting in his office nonchalantly filling out some paperwork with only a passing regard for my whereabouts. And then I'd end up crying again for no real reason.

Entry#: 126
Date: 10 - 12 - 818 AS @ 21:51 SUT
Title: Untitled.

I had originally hoped that Gunther would be around to hold my hand as we welcomed our daughter into the world, yet, sitting here at the shipyard in Puerto Rico I cannot escape the realisation this little fantasy of mine isn't going to happen. Our girl is going to make herself known very, very soon and unless the man responsible materialises out of nothing equally quickly I fear he is going to miss the day he becomes a daddy.

I have not seen any information on his whereabouts nor seen him myself. I ran from Rheinland for fear of my own life initially yet I find myself wanting to go back to look for him. I have no way of knowing what I'd be flying into. For all I know he could be sitting at his table waiting for me to wash up again, yet, the same chance exists for him to have been killed already with agents of his aggressors looking for us as we speak. I want to believe I'm just being paranoid and it's just my thought process getting all jumbled up but I am unable to neglect these propositions.

On the other side of things; I now find myself in possession of about 3,000 tonnes of gold ore, discreetly stashed away inside the hold and every single nook-and-cranny of the old salvage frigate I had laid away at Vieques.

Ore which now has to acquire a seller - which won't be at all difficult even as I stand now. I may be due to give birth in a week's time _and_ a mental train wreck but I'll be damned if any of this is gonna stop me conducting business. If I go into labour mid-transaction then it's just plain bad luck for whoever gets to bear witness to the whole scene.

I need to work out what I'm going to do after I get rid of this gold. Will I be going back into Rheinland with all the potentially hostile possibilities that exist to try and chase my little Admiral down? Or, will I just go back to the old life I had before, throwing away the entire episode of my life containing Rheinland...

I don't think the second option is valid, really. All things aside, including my own... nature... I still love the poor bastard whose innocence I stole. Even if we have an awkward and strenuous relationship at times, I can't help but feel pain in my chest when I wonder where he is...

Entry#: 127
Date: 25 - 12 - 818 AS @ 18:48 SUT
Title: Untitled.

I finally managed to dig my computer out of what was left of the Maelstrom. Looking at the remains in front of me I do wonder how all of us got out alive. She looks no better than the day I found her; black, charred openings down her once proud flanks, her now lifeless shell devoid of any hint of the imposing, frightening aura she used to bear.

I tried to assemble a list of the parts that will need replacement or repair, got fed up and just wrote "everything". Both engines are fried, the generator core is destroyed.... the climate control isn't even _there_ any more and a big hole sits where it used to. A large number of the exterior panels need replacing on top of it all.

I'm amazed that we all escaped mostly intact. I have a slash on my forehead, a broken ankle and some minor cuts and bruising on my arms. I had a "doctor" look over little Elisa with some equipment lovingly donated by a passing medical transport and as far as he can tell, she is still alive. Which I can tell you was a huge load off my shoulders shortly after the incident.

It's no way to treat an expectant mother, throwing her around like that.

Misaka has, in addition to the standard-issue cuts, has a fractured wrist from being thrown around the bridge like a ping-pong ball. Kana and Fumika, perhaps as amazingly as our survival, share identical yet opposite broken legs, amongst other things - both caused by being spat down a hallway by an impacting razor whilst clambering to the escape pod.

Sakura, however, is the one most worrying me. Not so much in her physical state but her emotional one. The kid has had to relive the death of both her parents over again. She's more-or-less unhurt on the outside but her inside.... is cut deep. She hasn't smiled since it happened. It's her blank, depressed gaze that hurts me more than anything I sustained to my own person. We're all fairly tough and hard-wearing women here, but she's just a little girl... she shouldn't have to go through this.

Whatever semblance of an armistice I once had with the Navy no longer exists. Barely before getting us all rescued I had set out plans for getting something out of Liberty to recoup the damage done. A bounty on the heads of any and all members of the Libertonian Naval forces that will, according to plan, encourage collectors out of the underbelly of society and into the public domain. Creating a sufficient annoyance to the Navy to make me feel like I've gotten back at them.

I don't actually expect to overthrow the Navy, they number in the millions. But every ship lost at my discretion adds up. It'll create enough trouble for those in power that my request to the Admiralty will be noted.

An especially generous incentive now exists for the one who leads them; David Hale. I wonder why I ever let myself listen to anything he had to say. If I had opened fire on the ships chasing us when I had the chance we would never have reached this end position. Why I thought if I didn't destroy anything David would step in to prevent the otherwise certain is beyond me.

I don't think that any more. I'd prefer to see him dead.

The work on repairing the Maelstrom continues in front of me, the men and women of Puerto Rico working hard for their credits. Welders, grinders and all sorts of machinery operating almost around the clock to get her online as quickly as possible.

The things holding me back are a lack of materials and the operating space to do work on the ship. The docks were never designed to handle a ship this size; it can barely manage to service two transports side by side much less a bloody destroyer. Even as simple and agricultural as she is, the Maelstrom is still a ridiculous task to undertake in this environment.

The CSV that I had stowed away in the hold served her purpose perfectly - allowing all of us to disembark my cruiser before she fell to the force chasing her. Whilst those responsible partook in the fireworks display, we escaped and ran to Montezuma.

The swarm of Rogue ships loitering about the ice field eventually coagulated at the wreck site and scared the Navy off before they could violate it. I had originally feared the Maelstrom's remains would be towed away and destroyed, yet after the Rogues had assured me the enemy force had been dissipated, we returned to find she had been left as she fell.

Pulling all of the favours owed to me together I procured a heavy transport and some fighter escorts out of Montezuma to move the Maelstrom out of the field and to safety. Whilst the local "doctor" (using the term lightly) treated us for our injuries, the wreckage was moved with a distinct lack of dignity - first through the ice field to the Cortez jumphole then pushed through it with a total lack of respect, re-attached to the towing vessel and hauled across open space to the Kansas jumphole, where the earlier procedure was repeated.

Twice more the same operation was repeated in an ironically similar scenario to her original "re-floating", placing her inside the dry dock of Vieques Shipyard - far away from Liberty's influence.

After spending a ridiculous amount of credits and finishing up owing way, way too many favours to a number of people, the Maelstrom was successfully hidden away and locked up.

At that point, sorely lacking in sleep I sent word out of my intentions to issue a bounty on the heads of those responsible. It spread like wild fire and it was only a short time before the first claimant stepped forward.

Of all the people I expected not to make direct contact with me, Admiral Hale topped the list. Of course thanks to the laws of the universe he was amongst the first round of applicants and claimants. A video recording addressed personally to me sent throughout the underbelly's version of the Neural net - the bulletin boards of Junker bases. After viewing it I realised just how efficient the unlawful population of Liberty is at weeding itself out.

A lad mouthing off about where his cheque was coming from, unsurprisingly getting himself wasted at David's hands. So the cat was out of the bag and that was why he'd contacted me.

Just wonderful.

He didn't react all that well to my original demand for termination of the contract - nude photographs of his wonderful self. But hey, if I can't make light of the situation and get everyone's spirits up, we'll all be wallowing in our own self-pity for the rest of our lives. And it was worth a try, wasn't it? A girl can look all she wants. It's only touching that is problematic, as I have proven with this little darling waiting her time to enter the world.

The second demand was somewhat more reasonable. The materials required to get the Maelstrom up to operational condition.

I sent a reply back, but I am yet to receive further communication. Whether he got it, and in such case is able to send a reply, are both in question. The channels available to us are, at best, unreliable. So I'm not holding my breath.

Fortunately for us the Alsatia has taken up residence beside her wounded stable mate. I'd hate to have to bear with the "accommodation" on offer here.

I just hope that I'm somewhere safe when Elisa decides she wants to greet her family. She's a week overdue now and I can tell she's waiting for the worst possible moment, as I would expect my own daughter to do. Make everyone's life hard yet be just as hard to hate for it.

Hope also exists for the location of her father before the big event. It'd be a huge disappointment all-round if her family was missing one member at the "formal greeting".

I don't normally believe in fate or luck... but today I place my faith in both.

Entry#: 128
Date: 01 - 01 - 819 AS @ 20:35 SUT
Title: Untitled.

It is truly amazing what can happen within the space of a week. It is equally amazing how little of the last week I can properly recall.

I find myself once again using my diary not to record events as such, but to put thoughts into order. Read back my own deliberations and ponder them.

First and foremost, my extended stomach has disappeared and, in its place, rests now a sleeping baby. Six days old, born on the 27th of December at about ten to five in the evening. A healthy 3.6 kilograms and a bastion of health. Or so I've been told.

I don't actually remember most of it. I recall when Elisa came out, I don't think it's even possible to forget the hellish agony of that moment. If you had told me the human female was designed to accomodate something that size I would have laughed at you and called you a dim-witted clot. I now understand.

After that I vaguely remember her crying, and then an image of her on my chest, with me breast feeding her. That's about it.

Misaka tells me that Gunther did in fact make his appearance at the event, but I honestly can't remember. Fractured glimpses of him pop in and out of my head... the entire ordeal is a blur. Apparently I was suffering from exhaustion; passed out shortly after the fact and didn't wake up for an entire day.

Of course he was gone by then, in his place standing Misaka and the rest of the girls, all crowded around my hospital bed waiting for their boss to wake up. Little Elisa taking pride of place within her "second" mother's loving embrace.

Adding more fuel to the fires of confusion is the fact I somehow ended up in Rheinland again. Planet Berlin, of all places.

And then there was the Maelstrom, in a million pieces, clamped to the orbital mooring fixture of the planet. I asked Misaka to explain to me exactly why my cruiser was in such a state, but she refused to tell me - instead closing my lips with a finger and then sealing them with a kiss, the likeness thereof I haven't felt since after the last time we fought...

Much like with Gunther, I can pick out little bits of the past week involving her. I think we did indeed have a fight about something, but the rest... will have to wait until she feels like telling me.

I am still somewhat weak and lethargic, not that it is unexpected having just recently given birth. Just sitting here with the laptop positioned where Elisa used to live is draining. Even for a normal woman it is a strenuous exercise, then there is the fact I have much lower strength than others like me thanks to my weightless environment on top of that.

Which reminds me. I am not going to raise a baby in an environment without gravity. It ruins adults and would be catastrophic for a growing infant's health. I will be promptly installing a gravity generator aboard the ship. My own preference for ease of mobility takes a rapid back seat when compared to the well being of a child.

I am led to believe, by the passing scenery outside, that the Alsatia is moving through New Berlin. I have also been informed that the cruiser is under tow behind us, the same system we used the first time around making a reappearance.

I think - I hope - we're going somewhere quiet. I really need some time to recuperate... and to get rid of this sickening loneliness.

I shouldn't feel like this, right? This can't be how normal mothers feel.

Entry#: 129
Date: 13 - 01 - 819 AS @ 21:53 SUT
Title: Untitled.

Nearly two weeks have passed since the last time I looked at this diary of mine.

I suppose I should start with the big events...

I somehow ended up taking my dear friend in the Navy, Commander Remus Sius, hostage aboard the Alsatia. To cut a long and dubious-at-best story short, he ran afoul of a few friends of mine in California and it was me who came to his rescue.

That little twist in the storyline brung about a rather signifcant change which I will address in due course. Putting it aside for the moment, I now find myself once again resting in my quarters on board the Alsatia, laptop in one arm and a sleeping baby in the other.

We are in dock beside the Maelstrom, which currently rests in a depressingly large number of pieces. The familiar ambience of Vieques shipyard surrounds us.

The incident mentioned earlier proceded with a number of communications to and from Hale's office and finally drew to its stunning conclusion with a high-tension hostage exchange between myself and Admiral Hale in the Kansas system yesterday.

I feel ever so slightly despondant that Remus has left us. It was without a doubt the most exciting week I've had in a long time. He was the unlucky sod that got sent to investigate the smash-and-grab operation I was heading in California.

We had just finished mowing down another stupid, unescorted mining ship when Remus showed up on the scene in his bomber. I recognised his voice immediately even over the tempermental radio system the ship has. Being full of gold we were in no position to be fighting anything, so I quickly ordered the Alsatia's escape.

My boys, however, fueled by either alcohol or blood lust (or both) hung back and promptly engaged poor Remus. He faired pretty well up until he ate a sneakily-placed antimatter cannon, instantly vapourising his bomber. Remus bailed into his escape pod and I made damn sure my lads handed him over to me.

After having retrieved him from the pod, I had Misaka treat some of his injuries. He had been knocked around pretty badly but was by no means in a life-theatening condition. He was well enough to fight back when we tied him to my chair, at least.

At that point the re-inforcements showed up in the form of a cruiser and escorts, which was my queue to leave. The Alsatia's forward cannon, as big and gaudy as it is, is no match for a purpose-built siege cruiser. We legged it outta there and into the ice field where we promptly fell off the Navy's scanners, the last thing I heard before being blinded and deafened by the frozen mist of the cloud was my lads staring down the business end of a cruisers' escort fleet, wetting themselves.

I don't think any of them managed to escape. "Such is life", as they say.

It didn't take long for a devious plan regarding Remus to emerge around my girls and me. The obvious course of action identified as a ransom. I hastily recorded a video using a camera we found in a dead ship a while ago and had it sent to Hale's desk. I wasn't sure if I would ever recieve a reply, but, eventually, one did appear.

I never had any intention of hurting Remus, and I made sure he knew that. I like the guy too much to do him any harm - and he's always been good to me even as a wanted terrorist. The first day we kept him bound to the chair by his legs, waist and arms.... gagged and blindfolded - just to be sure; but by the end of the ordeal he was only handcuffed to the console - otherwise free to speak and observe. We gave him food and water as required... even permitted him to use "the facilities". We even went so far as to give him a bed to sleep in eventually.

I really don't make a good kidnapper, I have to be honest. How many terrorists introduce their weeks-old infant to their hostage? How often does a hardcore criminal offer her captive a custard tart or some coffee? Or put his uniform through the wash because it got dirty? Or sit there swapping old war stories like best mates for hours on end?

I swear if I didn't know better Remus was almost sad to go when we booted him out the door into Hale's waiting ship. Being abducted by the McDowell Company was probably the most fun the bastard has had in his whole life. I heard from the Admiral that rumours surrounding us are abound amongst the Navy and that there are more than a few people who'd volunteer to be kidnapped for a chance to experience us.

One thing I do know he'll be missing is the lack of restraint practiced amongst all of us in regards to expressing our affections physically in his presence. Space flight, especially in the Alsatia, is mind-numblingly boring. You sit there for hours upon hours making only minor changes to course across vast expanses of open space. So of course if you're in the presence of your lover and are of such persuasion to find intimate contact appealing, the bridge the perfect place for it. The fact we had an audience, of course, held no sway over our actions. And as polite and reserved as Remus is, he's still a bloke underneath it all. I know he didn't mind it one bit. - of course he'd never admit that audibly but, well, "boys will be boys".

The exchange with Admiral Hale went rather well, as far as the situation could have demanded. A civil conversation with mutual respect - something of a rarity amongst Liberty - that ended with Remus being returned healthier than when we gained ownership of him and us earning ourselves a nice pay packet from Hale.

How nice yet remains to be seen, but I have David's word that I'll be getting something worth my time. He knows what'd happen if he stooged me out of what he surrendered to me.

Something is telling me it's time to turn in for the evening. Perhaps it's the little bundle of joy that's asleep on my chest or the fact I can barely keep my eyes open. Nothing could have prepared me for how tiresome motherhood is...

Entry#: 130
Date: 14 - 01 - 819 AS @ 19:55 SUT
Title: Untitled.

I don't know where he is.
I don't know what he's doing.
I don't know if he's alive or dead.
I don't know if he wants to see me.
I don't know if he even thinks of me at all.

I'm sitting here.... thinking... why?

Why do I waste so much effort on worrying about him? It is now blindingly apparent he has no interest in joining me. The last time we met... I tried to offer him a place by my side. I could never play the role of a homemaker or housewife... so I tried to convert him to my way of living. To join me, our daughter and the extended family that encompass my existance.

His lack of presence since speaks louder than any words ever could.

Thinking about it now, I find glaring, almost ironic comparisions to how Sanya - as I had originally intended her name to be - is going to grow up to how I did; daughter of a single mother, raised communally on board a ship in space. Never to know what it feels like to settle down in a home like everyone else does.

This.... this whole ordeal has changed everyone around me. Misaka... she has been putting on her best brave face for months now, but I can see she is going through a lot of grief with me as the catalyst. All I can offer is a hug and a safe place to sleep... and that won't be enough to keep the lid on much longer.

Something needs to alter the status quo, and quickly. If nothing changes, Misaka will implode... I'll lose my dearest friend and partner. I had been pondering this inside my head for a very long time... but... a decision has never been born of it.

I have heard and seen Misaka alone in hidden corners of the ship... sometimes contemplating, others crying to herself. It... tore my heart in two seeing her like that and I'll be damned if I'm going to permit myself to cause so much harm to a beautiful, innocent girl like her - who has never, ever done anything to deserve the load placed on her.

I'm going to stop worrying myself and everyone around me sick with my own personal problems. I am the leader of this ship and I need to retake control of it from the emotions which have run amok for too long.

I am no longer going to chase Gunther around. I will no longer search in vain for a man who simply does not want to be found. This is a desicion made in solid mind and with absolute conviction. I will stop being the weak, pathetic girl I have been for months and return to the woman I used to be. Not hell nor high water will stop me.