Discovery Gaming Community

Entry#: 151
Date: 04 - 06 - 819 AS @ 18:49 SUT
Title: Untitled.

I find myself wondering how the hell I managed to pull this off.

I am lying in bed, propped up on my pillow. With a naked and sound asleep Catherine Raven right next to me.

You wouldn't think looking at this ever so vaguely pregnant young woman, completely bare before my eyes, that she had come here to end my life. But that is the apparent reason she showed up. A day late mind you, but, whatever. My stubborn demand to wait actually paid off.

So much happened today I don't think all of it will sink in for a while to come. What I do know is happening is I'm ransoming her off to her boyfriend, one Mason Ralusch whom I am most well acquainted with. Catherine believes he's a cheating, worthless sack of crap who doesn't love her and is going to bail out now that he's a dad. I didn't think he was quite that bad but we'll see.

I'm going to find out for sure if Mason is as Catherine portrayed him or if he's someone of integrity. Cathy herself approved of the idea and I've just finished typing up a nice ransom note to send to the address she provided.

With the ransom note sent we will demand he bring a lump of credits down to Freeport 2 and stash them here. The goal is that he'll scoop up his returned hostages and they'll all live happily ever after like in the movies. Realising the potential he won't ever see them again will awaken the feelings of love he has been ignoring or even suppressing for so long. Or something like that.

I agreed that even if I did get the credits I'd discreetly return them afterwards. I'm not in this for money, after all. I'd ask a hell of a lot more if I was.

At least, that's the idea I'm running with. If he turns out to be as bad as Cathy says and he never shows, well, I'll have earnt myself two new crew members - which wouldn't be so bad. Cathy is quite easy on the eyes and I'm always willing to offer an expectant mother a place to live.

Not only that but she seems... interested in me, having tried with all her might to seduce me earlier. I managed to dodge it this time but I wonder how long I'll be able to hold out if it continues. Having her naked right beside me isn't helping one damned bit. Rawr~.

Thinkunsexythoughts Thinkunsexythoughts Thinkunsexythoughts Thinkunsexythoughts

Nup... not working.



At the end of the day regardless of what happens Catherine is going to face massive changes in her life. She can't keep flying for the Navy at the very least and depending on what Mason thinks of her and how well my plan works she may end up without any support whatsoever.

It's something which resonates with me greatly. Having to realise the father of your child won't be around... it's a lot of pain for an already emotionally and physically vulnerable woman to go through. I want to, at the very least, be someone she can fall back on.

Kind of ironic considering we were enemies up until 12 hours ago - and just an hour ago she had a blade pressed against my back. With that said she's not much of a threat now, for sure.

She's in love.

Entry#: 152
Date: 11 - 06 - 819 AS @ 09:27 SUT
Title: Untitled.

Ever since the day I met Gunther I had fought tooth and claw to obtain and keep his attention. Right from the beginning he had a hard time focusing on me alone and giving me the love and care I wanted from him. Not, of course, that he could be held to blame for the way he was. Nevertheless, I tried to force the relationship to exist long past its' expiry date and as a result pushed Gunther beyond the point of no return. We became unable to coexist together even in a platonic manner and we stopped communicating with each other.

Mason is different, though. Even after everything that Catherine has done to him - the lying, cheating, backstabbing, blaming, emotional black mail and all of the little secrets she kept - he still loves her and still wanted to be by her side. That is even before considering his position and the responsibilities he carries as a naval fighter pilot. Everything Catherine told me about Mason - everything I had assembled of his personality on my own - was false. I learnt that in a very short space of time after meeting him.

He possesses loyalty far beyond anyone I know. Confessing love for a woman like Catherine in front of me as a witness after the unending hell she subjected him to tells me everything I thought I knew about Mason - everything Catherine has told me - is completely wrong.

And... that Catherine still saw fit to trample this man's integrity under her feet, despite him putting his heart and emotions at her mercy, released a monster within me I did not know existed. She... she should have at least listened to what he had to say. Watching her tear him down before me, despite carrying his child, broke my heart. I had spent so much time believing she was a victim in the affair, that she had been taken advantage of by the heartless fiend she had painted Mason as.

But it was the other way around. Catherine played Mason's emotions to her own advantage. This man... was in love with her. He came to rescue her from the clasp of a terrorist without a second thought. He was prepared to throw away his life to be by her side. He was prepared for his life to end if it meant saving her and their child. She... threw all of that away with blatant disregard.

Then... something in my mind just snapped. My mind boiled over, I lost control of my thoughts and everything became a seething, blurred mess.

I shot a pregnant woman.

Regardless of what kind of person Catherine is... it's not something she deserved. It's not something the child deserved either.

I've done a lot of bad things in my life but this is one of the few that I truly regret. I potentially ended two lives - one of whom might never have even seen the light of day before being snuffed out by my hand.

I... I cannot even comprehend what motivated me to do such a thing. I do not remember what happened, nor do I want to at this stage.

I don't know what happened after I pulled the trigger. I ran away.

I haven't told anyone what I did. Not friends, not family. This is... something I need to bear myself.

If a god exists in this universe, he'll keep Catherine and her baby alive. It's about the only thing I can put my faith in right now - because I can't put it in myself.

Entry#: 153
Date: 18 - 06 - 819 AS @ 18:31 SUT
Title: Untitled.

Well.

Here I am listening to some utterly disgusting music wondering both how I managed to **** up my life and how I managed to avoid completely ****ing up my life in this past week.

After ditching In Silico and all the girls at Alsatia I... uhh... ran away from home.


With the Maelstrom.


I had no intention of returning. The fact I seriously considered ending my life is something I need to confess and confront head on, so it gets written down here and burnt into memory. I'm not proud of it, I can say that. In a moment of weakness I nearly threw everything away.

The thing that stopped me doing something I wouldn't be able to undo was an otherwise total stranger going by the name of Vincent Pryor. Just why someone like him went to such extremes to save someone like me I doubt I'll ever know. Especially after the last words I said to him today.

I kind-of-but-not-quite knew the name before, but I'd never given it or him any thought beyond shooting at him... I think.

No wait, it was his girlfriend. I shot at his girlfriend... don't remember her name though.

We crashed into each other somewhere in New York, I think it was inside the Jersey Debris Field near Rochester, as I was floating about looking for a way out of it all.

I don't know how he managed to pull it off but he made me feel as if my life was actually worth saving - that even someone who has done the things I've done has value in this universe. He managed to avert me from potentially killing another Congressman I randomly stumbled onto in cold blood and also convinced me that maybe, just maybe, flying into New York's sun in a blaze of anti-glory isn't the way to go.

He destroyed the false exterior that I'd worked so hard to erect and started throwing verbal punches right at the real Evangeline McDowell. I, of course, had nothing to do but to listen to him. The fact he was putting real effort into what he was saying and doing demanded my attention.

Vincent argued me into averting my flight plan and returning home to Kansas. This was, of course, after a long and drawn out battle of words between him and the "pretend" me that I put up to protect the stupid little girl I really am.

I try to convince people I'm a hardass. A cold-blooded killer who doesn't care about anyone, to protect my real self underneath it all. The real me who regrets most of what she's done in her life and wishes to undo everything so badly it turns her stomach inside out.

Even a worthless failure like me still feels regret. But don't try telling any of the people I've hurt that I still have emotions. They'll have other things to say and I am bloody well certain their words would weigh more than mine.

We had a long, drawn-out conversation on the way home between New York and Kansas. How an Outcast Tridente is able to fly around unmolested is beyond me, but Pryor pulls it off without a hitch. I guess if you're good enough to make me feel like something besides a worthless sack of **** you're also good enough to get permission to fly a cardie boat around Liberty.

For two days. Two days - he flew beside me. Through the heartland of Liberty. Alongside a wanted and high-profile terrorist in a bloody destroyer of all things.

This man has more integrity than anyone I've known my whole life. When he said he'd help me he damn well meant it. I guess it follows with the general flow of things that I screwed all of that up, but that's a story for later.

He escorted me all the way home to Alsatia. Literally to the front door. I couldn't just leave him out there in the cold after doing what he did so I invited him inside. I introduced him to the girls, after getting the snot beaten out of me by Misaka for running away. That's not something I'll be able to forget.

After all that I've done to this kid, she still has the will to stand by me. Words cannot describe how awful I felt at the moment she chased me down, but it was a different kind of feeling to the rest. Because unlike the others, I can actually do something about it. I can fix this - by giving her the love she deserves and being the best partner that I can possibly be.

And Pryor helped me see that.

I just wish I hadn't said what I said when he was leaving. It wasn't me he was talking to. It was the pretend me. I felt sick after realising what I'd done. But just like nearly everything else, I can't undo it, can I?

Entry#: 154
Date: 10 - 07 - 819 AS @ 19:23 SUT
Title: Untitled.

Been a rather hectic not-quite-a-month. Where to begin?

I suppose the fact that one half of my blood line is now shooting at the other half. Rheinland is at war with Bretonia - the cause thereof, from what information I have been able to gather, is a fine relating to cargoes being carried by a Bretonian in Rheinland which may or may not have been legal.

It does, however, bring to light the true, core nature of both houses.

The Bretonians are stubborn to a fault and will absolutely refuse to back down on something if they believe themselves correct. I, of course, bearing more of my Bretonian heritage than Rheinland, follow Queen Carina's style.

And then there is Rheinland. Looking for any excuse to fuel her lust for blood and carnage. Elevating refusal by a single ship to pay a fine to a full-scale war with the entire house it came from... is something one could only expect of the "Gott-Kanzler".

How to feel about this mess is not something I'm quite sure of yet.

I myself am Bretonian at heart, so naturally Rheinland is the enemy now. But my daughter has far deeper-set ties to that house than I do. Goes without saying her father is, or rather was, the Fleet Admiral of the Kriegsmarine.

I've yet to see any major movement reported in the news, however I find myself conflicted with who I should want to be victorious.

Moving on to more personal matters, however...

I have a new name. A new personality. A new ship and a new outlook on where my life is going.

I managed to run into Vincent Pryor again in Liberty whilst I was working my life out, putting measures in place to create what I now have. We wasted what must have been a good four or five hours just talking to each other, the evening culminating in Vincent taking me back to his place on Planet Erie. Allowing myself to be taken home on the first date... Hah. I may have changed most of my personality but I like being a harlot too much to get rid of it. I do, however, keep more to myself than I used to. Misaka seems most happy with this.

Vincent gave me a guided tour of his home. I, for a moment, wondered if he was, perhaps, a Junker in an alternate reality. The place is a Junkers' wet dream - an abandoned hangar and airport facility situated smack bang in the middle of bloody nowhere. Not only that but it had that delicious, decadent dilapidation thing going for it - something I adore greatly in my architecture. Felt like moving in right there - it'd give my evil underground lair a run for its' money in the awesomeness factor, for sure.

Despite my lust for the establishment, I avoided making an ass of myself... mostly. I think I scared poor old Vincent by being a bit too cuddly. He had just given me one of his ships - the Outflyer II - for me to use in Liberty to keep my profile low. I figured I could thank him with a hug, however, with the benefit of hindsight perhaps I went a little overboard. He sure as hell didn't expect it, that's for sure.

I ended up abandoning my little green snotbox at his facility and took off with the Outflyer. I flew directly from Erie back to Manhattan, sat my new ship down on one of the civilian landing pads and casually walked through the city back to the hotel I seem to have taken a semi-permanent residence in.

I think it goes hand in hand with the great sea change in my life but I am finding this regal, high quality establishment much more attractive than I used to. Whereas previously I'd've been happy staying in a crusty old motel for the night, I now consider it a bit... "meh". The Cosmopolitan is by no-means a top shelf hotel, but it's a solid, respectable building and orders of magnitude better than what I'd've once been content with. Sure, I still need to haul my own luggage, but the place is clean and tidy.

Another thing that's changed, or rather, that I've let change, is the sort of clothing I wear on a daily basis. I lay the blame squarely on the fact I'm living in the middle of the biggest consumerist society in Sirius but the amount of money I've let Misaka spend on "good" clothes both for herself and me is ludicrous.

From a plain white camisole to a high quality cream-white blouse. From steel-capped boots to high heels. From a messy, bedraggled ponytail hidden away under whatever I was wearing to immaculate, shining, free-flowing hair that I'm actually proud of again.

I've gone from daggy, oil-stained jeans to a freakin' skirt of all things. Misaka wasn't content to let me get away with business pants or a suit anything like that. I haven't work a skirt since I was a kid for crying out loud and now I'm supposed to wear them every day - apparently they make me more feminine.

Really, all I need to do is take everything off and it'd be perfectly clear I was female. Hah!

But you know, I just can't say no to that face of hers. I'll be damned if she isn't the cutest little angel I've ever laid eyes on - the way she looks at me when we're all alone - just the two of us, lost in each other - is achingly addictive. Those gorgeous caramel eyes of hers... staring at me as we quietly talk about nothing in particular, side by side in our bed, wrapped up under the blankets surrounded by the cool air of a Manhattan summer's night; a gentle breeze blowing in through the open windows of the 12th storey room we're calling home for the night...

I can remember why I fell in love with this girl.

And of course... the fun part. Not only did she insist on me trying real clothes, she bought some of her own. Among the collection she and her co-conspirators Kana, Fumika and little Sakura dragged home was, as expected, a vast array of the sorts of things you'd expect a modest, responsible teenager to buy - polite blouses and tops, a variety of respectable dresses, skirts and so forth.

What I wasn't expecting was the one bag she hid away from the other girls until after they'd gone back to their room next door. Putting aside the fact someone would have committed a federal crime selling these sorts of underwear to a sixteen year old girl, I was left looking like a stunned mullet by Misaka's solidarity in actually buying them. She'd've no doubt had to try them all on before committing to a purchase - I know her well enough to be able to affirm she'd not buy anything without knowing it to be the right size beforehand.

There I was casually stabbing away at my laptop's keyboard running an end-of-year stock take on the company when Misaka awkwardly peers out from the ensuite, hiding behind the door. I immediately suspected something was up, but I was somewhat expecting an awkward personal or biological mishap that I'd need to help her with.

Even though we're not only both women but also intimately connected, Misaka still gets quite bashful where her body is concerned. Talking about her cycle is an awkward, fumbling mess and anything related to sexual functions takes a lot of convincing to get her to discuss. She's able to disrobe around the other girls for benign purposes like showering but that's as far as it goes.

Nevertheless her bashful nature is endearingly adorable - one of the many aspects about her I find so utterly gorgeous. Although to be honest I can't see why she's so embarrassed about being naked under lights - she's got nothing to be ashamed of at all, really. She's six years my junior and has a body that even I envy. She also goes to great lengths - far greater than me - to look after herself both inside and out. She exercises, eats well and meticulously preens herself like a prideful, regal housecat. She's also been well looked after by whichever deity hands out boobs, legs and butts when children are ordered.

Which is why seeing her standing in front of me, in full light, in what basically amounted to a few strings of lace wrapped around her private feminine features, left me absolutely gobsmacked.

Like a slack-jawed Liberty yokel I just laid there, staring at her. My eyes wandered over her body as she fidgeted with her hands, covering up her intimate features - quite apparently nervous. She asked me if I liked it. If I would have been able to pick my jaw up off the floor I'd've replied in earnest.

I promptly threw my laptop off the bed, disassembling it in the process.

Not that I cared, of course. I had more important things to do. Misaka told me the clothes - and herself - were presents for getting my life back together. I couldn't let all of her effort go to waste, now, could I? What tiny shreds of lace she had on didn't stay on for long.












But!


That does explain why it's been almost a month since I wrote anything here.

I still need to do the damned stocktake, too.

Entry#: 154
Date: 15 - 07 - 819 AS @ 20:46 SUT
Title: Untitled.

The problem with performing a stock take, at least in this business, is I can never know what something might be worth. Sure, there's always raw scrap weight to fall back on but what if someone buys "X" as a spare part instead of me recycling it? Then it'll be worth more. Or what if they trade something else in. What's the credit value of the provision of a good or service where no credits change hands?

Then there's the issue of assigning a value to my equipment, ships and plant. Most of it, despite being expensive to buy and run, doesn't have a resale value.

The Maelstrom, for instance. It is a battle-proven destroyer with an infamous track record. An amalgamation of parts from across Sirius blended together into one single, potent entity.

... But is it actually worth anything?

I decided to use her weight in scrap to decipher her value. The same had to be applied to the Alsatia and my salvage platform. Neither of those two are really in a condition to be saleable to another person - not that I'd ever sell any of these ships anyway.

In Silico, however, being a fairly original and new vessel... may be the only thing in the fleet worth credits as something other than garbage.

After that came the task of finding out how much I have of everything. The salvager is full to the brim with stuff I've not yet gotten around to cutting up, ships and parts litter the entirety of my home here in Kansas and I still have a decent supply of stolen gold ore waiting to be laundered.

Looking at my current finances I find myself needing to get back to work properly. These past couple weeks haven't been the best for all of us and it's reflecting heavily in my bank balances. I haven't flown a proper trade run in _months_. The credits from salvaging whatever I can get my hands on in Liberty has just barely covered expenses but frankly it isn't good enough to "just scrape by".

Especially not when considering I plan on buying an engagement ring soon. And then the wedding dresses... and the ceremony... and the honeymoon...

I once jokingly told Misaka she would make a wonderful wife.

Well.

Now she will be.

It's something I've been playing with for some time. We've been together for two years; we've been through hell and back - more than once. We have a daughter to call our own. She's been with me through my highs and lows, supporting me through those times of my life I care not to recall whilst being by my side for the most memorable highlights.

She is not only beautiful in body but also in mind. She's intelligent, mature and responsible. She thinks with a logical and reasonable mind. She is patient and understanding, caring and benevolent - all of these things standing in contrast to myself - as they say, opposites attract, right?

Even though we could never bear a biological child - for reasons which are quite apparent - she treats Sanya as her own. The love and adoration she shows when holding her in her arms is not only endearing to me but also, I am sure, Sanya herself.

My daughter may grow up without a father but she will have two parents who love her dearly - and that is what I want to protect.

I caught myself wondering just where "he" was not long ago. I gave up on him returning a long time ago, of course, however a want to see him again still lingers inside me. At the end of the day I can't just cut someone out of my life cold turkey, I still somewhat care for his well being - if he's still alive that is. Granted if he ever did show up again from now on without a damned good excuse I doubt he'd leave with his life.

Putting that aside for the time being... it is with regret I realise the prospect of seeing my gorgeous little minx in a ceremonial wedding dress will have to wait in the wings for the immediate future. I have a cargo bay full of stolen gold I need to get rid of.

[END OF LOGS]

Entry#: 155
Date: 17 - 07 - 819 AS @ 21:11 SUT
Title: Untitled.

In a return to a style I'd thought long since lost I now find myself staring blankly out the bridge window of In Silico as we meander across the Kansas system, headed towards the only safe way out of the system - the jumphole to Magellan.

I completed running through everything I own and have assembled a rough idea of what I'm actually worth.

The Alsatia - my trusted and work-hardened transport. If I took off everything I could and sold it for 1/3rd the original price on the second-hand market, and then sold the ship as a standard model, I would expect to receive in the vicinity of 143,000,000cr.

The Working Girl - the salvage platform I purchased from a deceased estate. These old hulks still fetch grand sums when in good working order. Such an imposing vessel is hard to come by on the alternate ship markets, after all. Unlike the Alsatia she is more-or-less a "ready to use" example. If I sold her as she sits today I would be placing an asking price of no less than 60,000,000cr.

In Silico - the transport Admiral Hale gave me as part of that " hostage " " negotiation " involving Remus Sius. Without massive changes to her original design and almost still bearing that "new ship" smell. Not that I'd actually consider selling something gifted by the ever-gorgeous Admiral short of a life-threatening situation, but if I did so I'd be asking for no less than 27,000,000cr as she stands.

The Maelstrom was the most troubling thing to put a value on. There isn't a single soul in this universe crazy enough to buy her as a ship. However, if I were to disassemble her and remove every component of worth and then sell the hull as scrap, I'd expect something around 370,000,000cr. The armour plating I installed would, even second-hand, be worth a huge lump of credits to the right person.

And then there are the other things.

Propane Nightmares - my bomber, an ROC Civilian class. It hasn't seen the light of day in some time and I may actually consider getting rid of it. The asking price, with a full compliment of heavy-duty ammunition, would be no less than 12,000,000cr.

Rounding out the things which are worth mentioning is my little old surveillance drone, White Devil's Proxy - tipping the credential scales at the grand sum of 150,000cr.

Last but not least is the Outflyer-II, which Vincent gave me. Credit value is 0 for the pure and simple fact it isn't mine to sell. But the ship is an important aspect of my life now, so it deserves a mention regardless.

Then there was the stock take of the goods I have floating about, tied up in various places.

Turns out I had a lot more gold than I thought I did. I went and cracked open two cargo pods that've been lying around for ages in the back of the Alsatia which I thought were full of raw iron ore - thus not worth caring too much about. However, upon pouring the contents into another, less recognisable container, I spotted a few armoured canisters in the mix. I ground work to a halt and inspected them.

Of course, being armoured and locked, it took some work cracking them open. But the result was worth it. They were full of gold!

"Someone" was up to no good. I'd be willing to bet it was all stolen... before I stole it again. Whoever is, or was, missing those containers is probably cursing the day they ever met the Alsatia... poor bastards.

So all of that gold along with just about anything and everything I could cram into In Silico's cargo bay is now on its' way back to the black markets of Liberty.

Alsatia - the base - now contains only a relatively small amount of goods which I'd consider for sale or barter. It did feel good getting everything clean(er) and (somewhat) organised, finally - the place has been a mess since day one. The fact huge swathes of it were isolated by a lack of air and, of course, the resulting lack of comfortable warmth meant it all got ignored in favour of the small areas which were required to be online for us to live in.

Loading all of our spoils all into the ship, however, seems to have taken its' toll on the girls - everyone else is sound asleep. I'm left here all by myself to do nothing but stare into the deep abyss before me, occasionally breaking the monotonous blue-grey ambience with a glance across the radar or control console.

Even little Sanya. The highly vocal hellspawn who has seen fit to deprive all of us of sleep since the day she entered this universe. She's out like a light wrapped up in her cot on the bridge beside the captain's chair.

I may be a lot of things but a bad mother is one label I absolutely refuse to be suitable for. She almost never leaves my sight and on the occasion she does it is only under the strict supervision of Misaka, Kana or Fumika. I don't even trust friends outside the family with her.

I abhor bottle feeding and I will see that she is fed properly - the natural way - for as long as I am able to provide for her. No matter the time, whether I am asleep, flying or even in a business meeting. If she's hungry, she gets fed. Having the knowledge that her life truly and totally is dependant on mine... it's a unique experience. One that I believe only comes with motherhood.

When she's asleep like this, I get a moment to myself to think about her. What she has in front of her. How she's going to grow up. It's just the two of us up here now, mother and daughter together.

I imagine this is how my mother would have felt when I was Sanya's size - I look at pictures of when I was a baby and I can't even tell who is who beyond the fact we have different coloured eyes - the one aspect she's borrowed from her father. The one thing setting her apart from me.

Her father isn't coming back. I can lay that sequence of events in my history to rest. My own mother dealt with the same situation; now it is my turn. Both mum and I have extensive, supportive families surrounding us. We can move on.

The woman I plan on making her second mother - my wife - is sound asleep in my bed, hopefully dreaming of the many positive aspects of the life I want to give her from now on. The day I propose to her may not come immediately, but I can say with absolute solidarity it will come. Marriage has been a subject fated to not sit well with me since the day "he" decided to break my heart with it. One day soon I will stand atop that taboo and destroy it, opening the gates for the real, true meaning to enter.

Sanya's older sister - the adorable little ratbag who's accepted way too much influence from her adoptive mother has her own, permanent room on the ship now - insistent on that fact after having been forced to share a bed with her mothers for the early stages of her time in our family because of a simple lack of space. It could only be expected, really. She's old enough to understand that grown up mummy's sometimes want the bed to themselves - granted she's not fully aware of the exact reasons. An upside of the new arrangement is it allows Misaka and myself to enjoy more of the things our grown-up relationship permits without fear of exposing the little angel to things she's not quite old enough for yet.

As for where the night-shifters Kana and Fumika are... they're no doubt asleep in each others' arms - as always. Having finally been able to secure a real, genuine bed over hastily-erected bunks, both girls have been taking maximum advantage of their new, private quarters. The two of them have reached the point where they are quite content to spend the rest of their lives together; whether that is spent working with me is yet to be determined, however. As much as I enjoy their company and having reliable, earnest employees, I can't realistically expect them to be here forever. Should the day ever arrive where they decide to forge their own path I'd have nothing but absolute support for the two of them. I'm paying them enough to be able to save up for their own endeavours, something I am utterly insistent on. What they do with those credits is their own prerogative.

Wouldn't mind seeing Fumika as a groom and Kana as a bride. I wonder if they've ever considered it... heh. I think there'd be no doubt who would play the masculine role in that relationship. Fumika's gallant, noble pride stands out well above anyone else I know whilst Kana offers a sweet, innocent aura as someone who should be protected and nurtured by a person like Fumika.

Pondering if I myself would want to wear a tuxedo or a dress leaves me once again staring out in front of me, with barely a single entity to pique my attention beyond my imagination.

However, something feels different. The past year has been a rocky, treacherous part of my life. But I feel like it's over. I can return to a safe, nondescript lifestyle and live without further regrets.

I wonder if I could even still call myself a Junker... it all feels so far away now - like a bad dream.

A bad dream that has now been broken.

Entry#: 156
Date: 24 - 07 - 819 AS @ 19:13 SUT
Title: Untitled.

Another week, another strange set of circumstances.

I managed to wake up this morning on a couch that wasn't mine in an apartment that wasn't mine either in a part of what - thankfully turned out to be Manhattan - I'd never set foot in before.

I had remains of my good clothes on, although my dress didn't seem to take too kindly to being curled up on a chair. My neck hurt like a bitch and I really could have used a few more hours there.

So I groggily rolled off the couch and onto the floor, eventually hauling my carcase off the carpet long enough to comprehend where I was - what seemed to be a cosmopolitan apartment high up a skyscraper somewhere in an elite suburb of Manhattan.

Upon recollection of my situational awareness I realised I had wandered home with Admiral Hale and crashed at his place. Exactly why, I have no idea. Can't remember. Either way.

I stumbled over to the most likely source of coffee within the establishment and, in doing so, ran over a piece of paper presumably left by the ever-thoughtful Fleet Admiral for me to find.

"Had to leave for work, please lock up when you leave."

Momentarily after reading the information left for me and digesting it, I realised a keycard had been placed underneath the sheet of paper.

So David's just given me the keys to his apartment. I'm sure it's an entirely benign gesture however one's mind cannot help but ponder.

And ponder I did - over a coffee made with what I could find in the Admiral's kitchen. Instant coffee, those complimentary sugar sticks stolen from Sunbucks and a box of long-life milk. The guy lives just like I do... not quite sure how to react to that.

After sunning myself on Hale's balcony for a few minutes, divulging my secrets with the coffee before me, I realised I was probably being missed by at least one person. Thus ended my short stint as the housekeeper for the Fleet Admiral of the Liberty Navy.

After that I let myself out, locked up and wandered down to ground level, winding up in a part of town I didn't recognise. I spent about 2 hours trawling around the local parking lots trying to find the Outflyer. I knew I'd left it nearby, having flown it in - but it wasn't where I thought it was... so I had to go look for it.

Did find it eventually, tucked away neatly in a corner. Having already wasted half the day - first sleeping in and secondly running around like an idiot in high heels - I set off with disgruntled rapidity, aiming for the hotel room. A further hour was lost to flying through the gauntlet of under-skilled taxi drivers who swarm Manhattan like pests.

When I _finally_ got back to my room it was well into late afternoon and all I wanted to do was sleep.

Sanya wouldn't have a word of it. Little <strike>tart</strike> darling wanted mummy's boobs and was determined to get them. So I ended up spending a couple hours nursing the <strike>loudmouth bitch</strike> beautiful angel whilst explaining my absence to Misaka. At least when she's feeding she's quiet... always a plus.

And now here I am about ready to pass out and it's... not even 8pm yet. At least when I'm asleep I'm not any trouble.

Reminds me of someone...

Entry#: 157
Date: 05 - 08 - 819 AS @ 22:36 SUT
Title: Untitled.

A short space of down time in my suddenly hectic schedule finds me lazing about in the master's quarters of my evil underground lair, propped up on the wall behind me with a pillow to soften the impact of the unfinished stone underneath.

The ambient temperature, whilst somewhat perky, is within the limits of human survivability. This is due - in full - to the repaired and refinished climate control system the base now boasts. I'm quietly enjoying the warmth the blankets provide, as is my lovely partner whom I do believe is either sound asleep or doing a damned good job of pretending to be.

The only noise amidst this abode entitled Alsatia is the furtive tapping of my fingers against this laptop's keyboard. Yes - that means that Sanya is quietly enjoying her cot in the corner. A rare occurrence.

It is with this aptly timed lull in responsibility I bask in the warm glow of the two visible suns of the Kansas system. Bright, unfiltered light shines across the frozen tundra outside the porthole windows, illuminating the lifeless grey dust with shimmering effect.

The vast expanse of concrete splashed out amongst the rock formations that I call a landing pad lies completely empty. There is no business to conduct today, nor is there any in the upcoming days. Only after that do pre-booked commitments exist.

The rest of my family is in much the same state as my raven-haired, chocolate-eyed lover whom I share the bed with. All of our sleep schedules have been destroyed by the irregular orbit and rotation of this small moon we call home, however, they all suffered the same fate once the ability to shut the light out eventuated - only my room has natural light entering it; everyone else lives deeper within the cliff face, the halls and rooms lit only by fluorescent tubes.

Speaking of family and quiet, it seems that Sanya is starting to regrow her hair. She was born with a mop-top of bright blonde hair which actually fell out within weeks... poor little thing was a complete baldy up until just recently. Now she's got a kind of peach fuzz thing happening... but it's thick and just as blonde as before.

I can't believe I'm entertaining these thoughts. I want to see the day where she has enough hair for me to tie it up into a ponytail. Or to put a little hair tie with a flower on it in there.

Oh god.

Little twin tails. Sanya is gonna be a twin tails.

Is this what motherhood is about? Dreaming of playing with your daughters hair?

Either way. I doubt she'll mind. I remember when I was younger mum used to play with my hair all the time. Apparently it was the only thing that identified me as a girl back then.

"Evangeline Anastasia! If you go around looking like that people'll think you're a boy! You really should act more like a girl! Geez!"

I'm going to have to go through exactly the same thing...

Wish mum could help me out. Some advice here and there wouldn't go astray. After all, she made and raised me.

If she's still alive - if anyone from the Peterborough is still alive... I just don't know. Haven't heard of or from her in a couple years now. Mum doesn't know she's a granny and doesn't even know I have a partner.

I can imagine it now.

I run into her somewhere with Sanya in my arms and Misaka next to me.

Mum sees me with the kid. First thing she'll assume is that the person standing next to me is the father. A young Kusarian woman.

Her mind will trip a circuit breaker trying to work it out. Misaka is a woman any way you look at her and it goes without saying mum raised a daughter.

Then I get to explain how two women ended up with two daughters. How I, a proud and noble Bretonian, became domesticated by a budget-sized Kusarian girl. How I got ahold of a daughter who, if she were biological, would have made me a mother at 10 years old. How I secured the required male input to conceive my own baby.

Makes me want to go find her _just_ for that moment.

It. Would. Be. Glorious.

Moving on to other matters. It seems that I have acquired some new, undesired neighbours. I held a brief conference with their supposed leader to meet-and-greet these people who've decided that _my_ system is a good place to set up shop.

From my point of view, if anyone unwanted got wind of the location of Alsatia I would very likely be in a great deal of strife. The more people we have out here, the more likely it is someone who can't keep quiet learns something they shouldn't. And I don't want to have to move out. I like it here.

It's secluded. Quiet. Peaceful. I feel safe. It's warm - well, now it is, anyway. The scenery is quite pleasant as far as star systems go. Everything I own is tied up in this base - a rough-and-ready, poorly-decorated, utilitarian facility I dug out of the side of a cliff in just a few months.

And I don't want some loud mouth twits running around outside attracting attention. If there are pirates here then there will be Navy. Then I'm in trouble.

With that said the information I managed to dig up will prove most useful. For a supposed band of elite unlawfuls they sure to divulge a lot of sensitive data about themselves. It also gave me an excuse to give the Devil's Proxy a good solid run outside, something it's not had in a while; although all that managed to achieve in the end was a failure of one of the hard drives in the recorder when the onboard generator had a heart attack and cooked itself.

Poor thing's locked up in the hangar bay waiting for me to become motivated enough to fix her.

You know what? I'm hungry. I'm supposed to be tired but I'm not. I'm just hungry.

Entry#: 158
Date: 07 - 08 - 819 AS @ 21:59 SUT
Title: Untitled.

Here I am attempting to put the past days' events into order in the hope I manage a conclusion.

It seems that I've adopted a new pet Corsair going by the name of Robert; although what his last name is remains a mystery - he seems adamant in keeping it a secret. Actually he's been keeping a lot of things secret since we met which make it _really_ hard to trust him.

Apparently he's a heretical Corsair... or something to that effect. The story I got didn't make much sense at all - what I do know is he approached me asking to be given respite for the short term whilst he handles some of his own affairs. I was asked to come and collect him from a particular location inside The Barrier.

I decided that, if I was going to go out there, it'd be with an absolute lack of style. I dragged the Maelstrom out of her hangar bay and after some prepwork had her up and running in her full anti-glory.

I'd forgotten just how carnally satisfying the old girl on full song is. The great engines she propels herself with, when locked inside an atmospheric environment, produce a noise unlike any other - the kind of low, powerful, deeply masculine growl that turns women into sex-hungry beasts.

After enjoying the **** out of my lovely sex machine for a moment, I throttled her up and, with the girls aboard next to me, set off towards the great barrier ice cloud. A very mundane 6 hours later and we were adrift in an endless sea of blue ice - if not for the navigational systems I borrowed from In Silico, I'd've called myself lost.

I closed in on the co-ordinates given to me and, sure enough, there was a lone fighter sitting inside the crevices of a large asteroid. If one were not looking for it it'd be invisible - which I suppose was Robert's intention.

I wonder if he was expecting a sodding destroyer to roll up on him - the response I got made it seem like he was expecting something a lot less dangerous. A short introduction later saw his very second-hand fighter tucked inside the Maelstrom's cargo bay and himself wandering around her innards.

Of course, I opened up with a swathe of questions to try and figure this guy out. Why would someone seek help from a total stranger? That is, I assume he's a total stranger. Some of the things he's said about me make me think he knows more than he lets on.

Besides the honesty issue, Robert himself seems fairly decent. He's mostly well kept and eloquently spoken - certainly well above most of the people I associate with. His Hispanic heritage shows in his accent, too.

When I first hauled him aboard, though, it was a slightly different story. He had all the hallmarks of a man on the run: He was hungry. He was thirsty. He smelled bad. His clothes were dirty and stained. He was sleep deprived. His ship was out of fuel and falling apart. Above all, he was desperate.

Those are the things that let me decide that, even if Robert isn't being truthful with why he's on the run, the fact remains that he is.

I gave him some food and water first off - both of which were immediately consumed.

The second order of business was a shower. I was too polite to tell him but he smelled absolutely disgusting - as if he'd been rooting around in a dumpster or something.

The third - and most troubling aspect - was clothing. I didn't have any men's clothes of any kind on board. Why would I, after all? We're all women. However, what he had on back then smelled just like the rest of him did and I really didn't want that sort of potency in a closed-circulation environment.

After giving my new pet Corsair a bath I went digging around a collection of goods which've been sitting around the Maelstrom's cargo bay for longer than I can remember - eventually turning up something he could wear. He didn't seem too impressed with a New York Knicks T-shirt and grey cargo pants but he was given the alternative of walking around naked and snapped them up without further complaint.

With that said, however, the true highlight of my expedition into the depths of my stolen property was a massive stash of lingerie of all shapes and sizes hiding away in one of the containers - some of which I'm sure will fit me and the rest of the girls. Knowing I'd been sitting on this quantity of naughty knickers for so long is ever so slightly infuriating.

However, even more so enraging is the fact the joy of exploring my new-found treasures will have to wait until I've gotten rid of this male presence on board. After all, my body is for the eyes of Misaka alone - that's one thing I promised her with solidarity.

I decided to let him stay the night in a fold-up bed in one corner of the cargo bay. Regardless of Robert's motives, the fact he's at his wits' end is - after having known him for all of half a day - indisputable. With that said I did ask Fumika to run the night shift with a gun handy... just in case. In addition to that I'm not returning to Alsatia with him anywhere near me... just in case. One can never be to careful in this universe.

Hopefully he proves useful in the near future and, hopefully, my kindness doesn't come back and bite me in the ass.

Entry#: 159
Date: 13 - 08 - 819 AS @ 21:18 SUT
Title: Untitled.

Well...

That was short lived.

Robert Monza... Mouza... whatever it was... seems to have decided I'm not required in his existence any further. The last I saw of him was as he was flying off with a girlie towards Freeport 4. This was after he'd tricked me into giving him enough credits for his own room on the station - and then immediately after I find out he's shacking up with the missus anyway.

Whatever. It's one less problem for me to deal with.

More importantly it meant I could finally go home again. The thought crossed my mind that Robert had been trying to collect intelligence on me for whatever reason, and as such I had the Maelstrom smacked with an EMP blast courtesy of the Alsatia - just in case I had extra, undesired computers on board. Made a real mess of the box on the bridge but I can just reinstall everything from the backup disc. It runs Portholes98 so reinstalling everything takes all of 10 minutes... and the rest of the flight data is all copied wholesale from the Alsatia anyway.

Still, it felt kind of fun shooting at my own destroyer. And it's been a while since I've seen the old girl from the outside. She's such a deliciously classless coagulation of scrap iron that one simply cannot help but fall in love. Her total and absolute lack of aesthetic form - pockmarked with burns, dirt, rust and haphazardly applied steel patchwork. The lewdness of her mortar and pulse cannons, hanging out from underneath her bow like a man's pride and joy. The way she vibrates under power as if her sole purpose was to bring carnal pleasure to a woman. The way she decimates whatever I aim her at without hesitation. All of these things make her utterly irresistible.

Well. She is to me at least.

Misaka thinks she's ugly.

Kana and Fumika think she should be scrapped.

Little Sakura thinks she smells funny. No doubt Sanya would have some things to say if she didn't spend her entire life sucking on my tits.

Pfft. It's my soddin' cruiser and I love her just the way she is.

The old girl is tucked in nice and snug next to the rest of my stuff in the hangar bay of the base. Having everything all collected under the one roof just gives me a strange sense of satisfaction. Call it obsessive if you want but I enjoy being the queen of all I survey - standing in one corner of a massive underground cavity whilst peering up at a destroyer both makes me feel small and very, very powerful - because these gargantuan beasts are all under my authority.

The original Alsatia, having been relegated to little more than a semi-mobile storage facility, still rests quietly in her corner of the base. My salvage platform sits outside on the landing pad, however, simply because I haven't the room to keep two cruiser-sized ships in here... as much as I'd like it.

The plethora of fighters and other single-seaters I've amassed all reside on trolleys across the floor. I still have the Wraith I nicked off with when I left the Military... and enough bits of a Guardian to build one if I wanted. Wonder what David would say if he knew...

Baby Sanya keeps on getting bigger and bigger, more than happy to spend her entire waking life attached to one of my boobs. Breaking out the calendar reveals she's 32-and-a-bit weeks old now. I think poor old mum could use a break but Sanya takes after her old lady in having absolutely no regard for the sanity of those around her. She's not the only one who uses my boobs!... but she doesn't care. Poor Misaka doesn't get as much time alone with me as we'd both like. Hell. I don't get enough alone time with my boobs as I'd like.

My mind cannot help but ponder how long Fumika and Kana have been with us. These two girls have been with me for what must be two years without rest. We've been through a lot together and I wonder how long it's been since they've had some real time to themselves. In a way it reminds me of the Peterborough when I was growing up. There was me, my mum, and a half dozen other people all living together like a family. Of course I was too young to realise it back then of course but I can only imagine that some of the men and women I shared my home with would have been much more than just colleagues.

Thinking about it... it's rather ironic how my life now is more-or-less a carbon copy of my mothers' when she was the same age. Wonder what she'd have to say to me if we ever caught up again.

Maybe I should give the girls a holiday... send the two of them off just by themselves for a while. I reckon they deserve it.

Stepping back to business, however, I have assembled another stash of scrap metal that needs to be resold. As such another trip into Liberty is required. Once we've pocketed the cash I think I'll give Fumika a nice bonus. Enough to take her sweetheart on a getaway.

Then I get to baby sit Sakura as well as Sanya and Misaka.

Looking forward to it.

[END OF LOGS]