Logbook entry

Kaparov / 04 Jul 3304
PERSONAL LOG #4 - 4 JUL 3304

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Phew, what's there to say?

Federation forces are still entrenched in twelve systems across a span of twenty light years from home base. It's not bad, could be a lot worse, but there's work to be done. I'd be lying if I said that the people under me were in for an easy few weeks. They're going to be weeks of systematic slaughter, followed by weeks of corrective murder and months of conflict to keep the "peace."

I've said before that I don't enjoy war and I'm not putting on a face when I say that. It's terrible that we've come to depend on it for even our most basic disputes. Yet there is no other solution. Diplomacy can serve as a temporary respite, smuggling and sabotage both less invasive, yet still leading to the same end. When push comes to shove and tensions reach the high, there will always be a place for people who are willing to do what's necessary.

I think we all deal with it in our own ways, though. I don't know how many of the others wake up in a panic to a noise in the cabin; no, that's the part we don't often talk about. Never mention the fear response. Never mention the numbness. We drink and indulge to keep that pain at bay. Sober up to fight again or to navigate through that mailslot with two-hundred forty tons of landmines and nerve agents.

The more I do, the more I'm convinced that the only winning move is not to play. But I've been in this game for too long to stop. The only way is forward.

Live and die on this day.


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