Private Video Entry, 30.7.113 - Moving Day

Morwen appears to be resting on her back on one of the couches in the living room of her quarters on her carrier as the camera drone begins recording. She's wearing little more than a mottled green tank-top and matching shorts; given the unkempt state of her hair, she seems to be in a rather lazy mood.

Two years.

That's about how long Goinard has been the primary base of operations for whatever corpoation I've been with. First with the Ghosts, then with Veto.

Something flickers outside of the camera drone's view. It turns, then focuses on a projection of a station for a moment before returning its attention to Morwen.

Goinard IV - Moon 5 - Impro Factory.

VETO's home station since before I got my capsuleer license.

For the last couple of months, we've been on an extended trip to Syndicate to fly with some friends of the directorate, Rote Kapelle. I've known a few of their members for a while; mostly the Nihil family who used to run the Three Sisters bar in Jel. I think the place is closed now, which is a bit of a pity, given how fun it used to be. Would've been nice to take Reppy there at some point, but it's probably a little too late now, even if not for her busy schedule.

The corp took surprisingly well to being stationed in nullsec. Even me. It was... very different from what we were used to, but at the same time, it wasn't different at all. Maybe it was just the subconscious feeling that we had more wiggle room out here. That, a few lingering rules and regulations aside, we weren't bound at all by anything CONCORD had to say.

So a few weeks ago, Ethan made the decision to move us out here properly.

I guess it was a foregone conclusion that it would happen, really. That and my security status recovering, which may have been more of a side effect of getting myself burnt-out on combat sorties. When we came out here, I dived into them left and right. If there was something going on when I was around and awake, I was participating. I suppose I overdid it, because now I can barely stand the memory of what using warp scrambling modules feels like. Probably a good thing, given the amount of time I spend in highsec these days.

But... oddly, the time spent away from the corp hasn't really reduced my stress levels. Stopped them from going higher for the most part, yes, but it hasn't really reduced it any. Over the last two weeks, Nation has launched a steady assault across the area of space I now consider "home". First Sib, and Nohshayess two weeks ago, and Amdimmah this past week. Reppy and I had originally been planning to take that week off, but when Nation showed up on our doorstep, I couldn't deal with the feeling that they were right there and I was doing nothing about it.

So I fought. I spent the entire week in space, cleaning the infestation out of my home. In the end, I was there in Bukah when we took down the Revenant-class supercarrier that was the remote "brains" behind the operations in the Nohshayess constellation. Apparently I'd managed to do enough damage to be considered among the top ten pilots who contributed to the effort that week. It felt... kinda good, I admit, but... still awkward, coming from CONCORD of all people.

But that was last week... and now I'm here in TXW again, waiting for the call to go get into my capsule so we can get this show on the road. I won't say I didn't enjoy my time in Goinard. I really did, for the most part; it was a great place for a number of reasons, and I learned a lot while living there, but... I just can't stand lowsec anymore. I can't stand being an outlaw anymore.

There's another flicker, and the camera drone turns briefly once more to focus on another projected image of another station.

TXW-EI VIII - Moon 8 - Aliastra Retail Center.

Veto's (sort-of) new home, and my home-away-from-home.

That's not exactly kept me a ton of friends within Veto, but to be honest, I never had many in the corporation to begin with, outside of the Ghosts I came here with. Some of the newer people I'm familiar with - Evangeline, in particular, from the modeling contest the other month - and I've made a few friends with some of the other old-timers, like Nadia and Rathera, but... I don't know.

I'm feeling less and less like Veto as a whole is my family, and more of a job that I just want to go home from. Some of them I consider family, sure... Kimmy and the other Ghosts, Kyoko, Demetri, a few others... even Inara, to some extent, despite all the shit we've put each other through... but most of the rest of the corp? No, they've not really given me the "family" vibe. Not the kind that I can relate to and feel comfortable and safe with.

Do I trust them to have my back in space? Absolutely, and I would hope they'd trust me in the same way. But outside of the capsule? No. I don't trust very many of them outside of the capsule. I have a hard time trusting people who are more interested in ISK and profit at the expense of everything else.

Maybe I'm really not cut out to be a pirate anymore. Maybe I never really was to begin with. Hilen Tukoss and the Arek'jaalan Project have entrenched that idea more firmly into my mind than anything else has lately. It's like the opportunity to be in the Accord again, only this time the potential of the project isn't wasted on a fool like Julianus Soter. We actually have the manpower and minds necessary to make something out of the project, if we can keep it alive long enough to properly get on its feet and learn to walk. I dread to think of what will happen if Venal decides to have Ethan interfere with the project. I don't know what I'll do. Whatever it is, it isn't likely to make people happy.

Things at home have been... awkward, may be the right word for it. Reppy can tell something's bugging me as she usually can, but she's having as much trouble asking me about it as I am with being able to just tell her.

But it's hard to bring it up with her. Last time it even got referred to, she laughed it off as if it were a joke - and she was the one who even brought it up in the first place. I know she wasn't laughing at me, but it still hurt. It hurt a lot then, even if I didn't let on. And it still hurts now, as does the thought of getting the same reaction when trying to bring it up seriously.

This is just going to get messy when it does come up eventually - and it will come up at some point, I'm just not sure when - and I'm not really looking forward to it. Unfortunately it isn't something I can just swallow and go back to ignoring it like some other things. It's going to eat at me until it gets dealt with, and at this point it's just a question of which one of us is going to make the first move.

Morwen sighs, then opens her mouth to continue; a soft buzzing noise interrupts, however, and she turns her head towards its source - the door.

... Wonder who that is. Guess I'll have to finish this another time. End recording.

The camera drone deactivates.

Fragments of Memories: 14.11.112

Darkness.

Then there's light, and a floating sensation. Holding tight to someone who is clutching back even tighter. Awkward movements from both, trying to move into a more comfortable position without losing grip of the other and floating off in opposite directions Success eventually, followed by soft giggling. Soft lips pressed against hers, then --

-- warm, flickering light from a fire. Softness of a fur rug beneath her side, two arms snugly wrapped around her. Quiet words whispered in her ear, a small smile forming on her face. Something moves into view out in the corner of her eye --

-- flash of a knife against her arm, a trickle of blood. It stings for a brief moment, but doesn't hurt; oddly, the predatory smile coming from the woman sitting on her lap feels somehow... comforting. Then she grins and moves in close --

-- the cool sensation of metal around one of her fingers, a hand gripping her wrist warmly as the object slides back from the tip of her finger - a gold-and-silver ring. A smile from the owner of the gripping hand, before she pushes her back against the sofa with a long kiss. Again, something visible in the corner of her eye, a person maybe --

-- running water. Back up against a wall, pinned there by something warm. A face obscured by a black mat of wet hair. Brush it out of the way with a hand, find a pair of brown eyes staring back. Can almost see her own reflection. A hand gently grips hers --

-- a carefully-crafted necklace of sapphires and rubies hangs in trembling hands, the jewels glittering as they move in the light. Her vision is slightly blurry - tears, perhaps - and her attempts to put the necklace around her neck are made difficult by her shaking fingers. A pair of helping hands assists, then wipes the tears away. Once more, something - clearly a someone - out of the corner of her eye is visible; black hair and silvery eyes with pale skin, their mouth moving slightly without making any sound. By the time she reacts and moves her eyes to get a better look, those brown eyes are too close for her to see anything but her own reflection again --

-- a small cutting sensation on her chest. Red facial markings glow back at her, as the woman perched on her lap carefully moves a small blade against her skin. A small diamond pendant, previously transparent, now shines a bright scarlet. The woman gives the pendant an appraising look, then fastens it around her neck. A familiar predatory smile before she leans closer, eyes alight --

-- curled up in a warm bath, soft giggles and quiet whispers; a gentle swat to the nose and a nip at the ear --

-- spoonfuls of homemade soup from a steaming bowl, a content and loving smile; there's that other person again in the background --

-- sitting on the couch, snugly curled up under a blanket while laughing at the absurdity of a holoreel --

-- arms wrapped around her middle, holding tight --

-- those brown eyes again; a playful glimmer visible in them before she's grabbed by the chin and pulled close, the words on the tip of her tongue silenced by a hungry kiss --

-- and then it's dark again.

No...

Morwen. That's enough. No more.

No, no, no, I want to go back...

I said that's enough, Morwen. You've been in here for nearly a week. I'm not letting you hide in here any longer.

But I'm happy there... send me back... please...

No.

Please...

I said no. Time to come back to the real world, Morwen.

I don't want to!

And I don't care. It's time to wake up.

No, no, no, no...

She becomes aware of a rushing sound as the capsule starts returning control to her own senses. Seconds later, dumped unceremoniously onto the floor, she coughs and sputters as her lungs try to clear the remaining pod fluid from her respiratory system before she curls up into a ball where she is, sobbing.

I want to go back...

No. You need to clean out your system and get out into the real world, with real people. You're not doing yourself or your crew any favors by being in this state. You are going to get up, you are going to wash up, and you are going to go out and interact with people. I don't care where you go, but I will make sure that you do go somewhere, forcibly if I must.

I don't want to... I want to go back inside...

Most certainly not. When she asked me to take care of you, it didn't include letting you stew in a narcotic-induced haze in your pod for a week.

You set it up for me...

Yes, I did, and I'm starting to regret that decision. Count yourself lucky that nobody outside of myself, the CMO and your capsule technicians know about it, because it could get your ass thrown out of corp if people knew you were flying under the influence. We don't even know what side effects this might have yet to cause for you. Get up. Now.

She stays there for several minutes, still sobbing, before she tries sitting up, hugging her knees close.

A good start. Let's go. It's not far. We can go to the Keep or the Piano if you'd like.

I don't want to go out...

Morwen, do you think she would want you to be like this?

She sits there silently.

No...

Then let's go. I don't have time for your moping, and honestly neither do you. She needs this... let her try and fix herself.

I need her...

I know you do, but she needs this right now. You need to be patient... things will hopefully get better and fix themselves at some point.

A small nod, and a sniffle.

Now, let's go and get you washed up. You're a mess.

Another small nod, and she cautiously climbs to her feet, one hand resting against a wall for balance.

One step at a time. Maybe having to learn how to walk again will save me the trouble of having to convince you not to do this again myself.

Wobbly steps forward.

Shut up... not funny.

Once you're sitting down with other people, I'll let you be for a bit, but you are my priority right now, okay?

A few more steps forward, then she closes her eyes, nodding as she walks. Those words she understood.

Private Video Log, 3.7.112

Morwen sits at her desk again, a tired and defeated expression on her face, her eyes damp. She's wearing what appears to be an old Ghost Festival dress uniform, but the sleeves are missing, revealing two long, uncomfortable-looking gashes on her arms, one on each arm; they appear to have been treated, but there is still a large amount of dried blood smeared on her skin around the cuts.

Things didn't go exactly as we'd planned. We got to Curse, and met with the Dominations representative, got what we wanted... but as we were leaving the meeting... I don't know what happened exactly. We were heading back to the main part of the station on one of the elevators, and then I woke up in a cell with her, elsewhere.

Morwen rubs one of her arms carefully, her fingertips gingerly tracing the long wound.

They... it was Blooders. Using us for their sick, twisted rituals. They took me out once, cut up my arms and made me bleed into this... this pit... when they brought me back to the cell, Reppy was gone. I don't know how long I was in that cell after that, but... eventually help came. Masque, Kimochi, Ms. Alterana, even Andrastus was there. They got me out of the cell, and we tried to find Reppy, but... when we did...

She pauses, biting her lip gently before continuing.

When we did, she was just a hologram. Pretending to be one of them. Or maybe she wasn't pretending. I don't know. She... she called herself "Cruoris." Another personality, maybe... but... she escaped before we could catch her, and tried to kill us by destroying the station with us on it. We made it out, but just barely... and before she disappeared, she sent me a message...

A recording begins to play, Reppy's familiar voice sounding from somewhere off-camera.

I love you, Morwen...

The recording cuts out, and Reppy's voice is silenced, replaced by an artificial, somewhat disinterested "error, transmission interrupted" from the ship's computer. Morwen manages to choke back a small sob and wipes her eyes.

That's it. That's all she could send before... before I don't know what. That message is all we have to go on. Masque's doing what she can to track her, but... she's not stupid, if she doesn't want to be found...

A soft Gallentean voice speaks, tone firm.

We are not talking about someone like Miss Terranova, Morwen. Yes, Repentence is clever, intelligent and resourceful when she wants to be, but she lacks experience. She will make a mistake eventually... and I'm not quite sure that she doesn't want us to find her. It will take time.

Morwen sighs, nodding to herself.

Yeah, I guess so... I'm still worried about it though... scared, even. If... when we do catch her, if we have to force her into the new clone we've prepared for her the hard way...

The Gallentean voice speaks again.

We will have to cross that bridge when we come to it.

Another nod from Morwen before she replies, her voice hesitant and unsure.

Just... if we do, I want to do it. It should be me, not... not some random other person. It needs to be me. I just don't know if I can do it.

There is something that sounds like a sigh from the other voice in the room, then it speaks once more.

That may be out of our control. Go take a shower and get some sleep. I'll wake you if anything important comes up.

Morwen sighs another time, nodding defeatedly.

Alright.

She stands up slowly, then reaches over and turns off the recorder.

Private Video Log, 24.6.112 - A Tense Holiday

Morwen is seated at a desk in a room that appears rather small, but distinctly Caldari in decor. She is wearing what appears to be a red variant of her usual loose-fitting Intaki robes. Out in the corner of the holorecorder's vision a bed is partially visible, as is what appears to be part of a body-shaped lump under the sheets.

So, once again, I'm down in Curse. At least this time it's on personal business, but... that's not really much of a reassuring thought given the reason for it.

She gives a small glance in the direction of the bed before continuing.

Reppy's problems have been getting worse, and while we can't fix them outright, Masque has come up with what should at least act as a stopgap measure and provide her with a stable point to get better from, instead of her continuing the downward spiral her body and mind have been suffering through lately.

Morwen sighs, then takes a small sip of water.

That... virus... over time, it's caused a lot of damage to her implants, and some brain damage on top of that. Unfortunately... this has carried over to her other clones, so a jump isn't even an option to fix things or stall for time. We need to get her a new clone, but that requires acquiring a fresh, untainted tissue sample with which to grow a new clone... and of course, new implants. Normally this wouldn't be a problem, in fact it'd be rather easy to do, but...

Another sigh, but when she continues, her voice is lower, with a slight hint of anger and frustration.

... But it isn't, because when she started working for PRELI, the Cartel decided that it would take possession of those samples. Which is why we're down here. I have to go Utopia and convince them to give me a fresh sample so that Masque and I can grow her a new clone. Right, because they'll just let me waltz in, ask for the sample, and waltz right back out with it. Me, the one who they didn't like to begin with, and now technically flies with a Gurista-aligned organization.

Another voice, soft but distinctively Gallentean, speaks from off-camera.

No, she'll be there. You get to sit and look pretty while she does the talking. Shouldn't be too hard, even for you.

Morwen rolls her eyes at the voice before continuing again.

Right, very funny, Ash... anyway. I can't exactly say I'd be comfortable with someone being able to hold something like that over me. It's far too easy to abuse or take advantage of. Capsuleers are effectively immortal, yes, but that only lasts as long as nobody fucks with the cloning process or equipment. It doesn't take much at all to take a capsuleer out of the picture permanently, and I refuse to let that happen to either of us, but... well, I guess Reppy didn't really have much choice in the matter. It'll be something to talk about when we get home.

Her expression softens as she looks over towards the bed for a moment, fingers idly playing with a pair of rings dangling from a small golden chain around her neck.

I know she says it's okay and that it's not my fault and I should stop blaming myself for it, but I still feel horrible about how it took me until just a month or so ago to realize how I really felt, and that I'd been wasting time chasing after something that could never work when I already had everything I wanted and needed sitting right there in front of me. I should have realized it so much sooner, but I was too stubborn to let it sink in, even with everything that everyone was telling me.

Another sip of water, and a small smile. A soft rustling noise comes from off-camera, and the lump on the bed moves a little. Morwen smiles again, lowering her voice again so as not to wake up her slumbering companion.

But I know now. I love her, and would do anything for her to make her happy and keep her safe... it's why we're here in Curse, it's why I've stuck with her through all of the hells she's been through over the last several months... it's why I'll still be there for her when this is all over and done with. Reppy has been, is now, and will be my first priority in life, for as long as she'll allow it. I am happy, with her, being by her side... and I wouldn't trade that for anything. She's everything I ever wanted or needed from someone else... I can only hope that I can be the same for her.

She closes her eyes, still smiling.

Anyway, we'll be here for a while after we get Reppy her new clone; Myrhial had been planning a trip down here that I'd intended on tagging along for, so once she and the others are down here we'll probably be down for another week or two. They should be arriving in a week or so, so it shouldn't be too long before we have compa--

Without warning, a pillow flies into view and smacks Morwen in the face. She breaks into a fit of giggles as Reppy speaks from out of view with a voice full of sleepy, playful severity.

Morrrwennn, as if it's not bad enough that you're hauling me halfway across the galaxy, you're now ignoring me for a machine. Snuggle me, dammit.

Morwen throws the pillow back in the direction it came from, a "Yes, mistress" barely intelligible through her giggling as she reaches over and shuts off the recorder.

Vey System, Central Placid, 1.4.112 - Longshot

A faint, barely noticeable tingle ran along her extremities as she carefully scoured feedback from her ship's sensors. Faint signals from combat drones and wrecked vessels in space, stronger, more detailed pings from starbase emplacements... all of that she ignored as she scanned through the list on the display floating in the orange-colored liquid in front of her face. Then something caught her eye.

A battleship. Hyperion-class. A Gallente-designed vessel that was, in almost every way, the perfect catch.

She silently instructed the crew handling the scanner to start narrowing down the general direction the Hyperion was in, bringing up a display of the list of locally active transponders. One name stood out in particular -- it matched the name associated with the Hyperion, according to the scanner. She focused her gaze on the name, and a DED record appeared, floating in front of everything else.

The pilot's capsuleer license had been issued in early November. He'd spent a month with one capsuleer outfit, three working with the Scope, and had been working for his current employer for just shy of four weeks. The scanner's display flashed slightly, and she glanced at it, the DED record fading away. Several heavy combat drones had been detected with the battleship; four second-generation Ogres.

Morwen twitched a finger, and the visuals from the camera drones shifted to a three-dimensional map of the solar system. Icons dotted the space in front of her, indicating planets and other various celestial objects. Several icons glowed brighter than the rest; each illuminating a spherical region of the map. She willed them to move, carefully adjusting their position, then patiently waiting as they flashed and went back to their original state, revealing a number of new icons.

She repeated the process several times, focusing on one set of icons as they slowly shifted in color from red to yellow to green. Morwen grinned faintly to herself and willed the camera drones' feed to come back, sending along the message for the crew to get ready for combat. A nudge, and the ship was in warp.

It was a long hop across the system; and along the way, Morwen sifted through a number of possible engagement scenarios. She winced slightly, remembering the trouble that those particular drones had given her last time she'd run into them. The memory was less than pleasant, and quite painful. Gritting her teeth slightly, she settled on the simplest engagement plan.

Morwen felt a barely noticeable jolt as the ship exited warp in the middle of a Hyasyoda Corporation mining site, about twenty kilometers from the Hyperion. The slow, lumbering hulk of a battleship was moving towards a small cluster of docking platforms, and with a gentle push, Morwen allowed her ship to follow.

The proximity meter ticked down as her ship moved closer and closer. Morwen's eyes flicked almost lazily across the various feeds of information running past her, and focused on the looming target in front of her. Then the proximity meter beeped once more. She was within range.

The faint tingling sensation disappeared as she deactivated the cloaking device and her legs tensed as she sent the order to engage the afterburners; the red-and-gold form of a Pilgrim hull wavered into the view of the camera drones, the silver letters glimmering along the bow, giving its name: Nazara. A few seconds passed, and as the smaller cruiser lurched forward, the slothlike Hyperion slowly began to turn in an attempt to escape.

It was, however, seconds too late; as Morwen's mind and body gave the orders, her crew obeyed, and the Hyperion's already-slow movements ground to a near-halt as its navigation computer shut down and its engines sparked and sputtered. A hollow, empty feeling grew within Morwen's stomach as streams of energy arced out from the emitters on the Pilgrim's hull to the battleship. It was uncomfortable, yes, but not unbearable.

Scant seconds after the Pilgrim's drone bay doors opened and a flight of Hammerhead drones sped towards the Hyperion, Morwen felt a sharp stabbing sensation in her side; a glance towards the battleship showed that the pilot had instructed his crew to start shooting back. A moment later, there were the four Ogres, pouring out of the ship's drone bay and heading back towards the small red-and-gold cruiser.

Morwen instructed the Hammerheads under her control to regroup and engage the Ogres as they ripped through the Pilgrim's shields and began slagging away at its armor plating, the charged antimatter packets leaving a dark scorch mark across the lettering across the cruiser's bow as nanites flowed from the automated systems to repair the damage.

Though it only took a minute and a half, it felt like much more as the Hammerheads bore down on the heavier Ogres and tore through them like a swarm of carnivorous insects. Once the heavy attack drones were gone, the smaller Hammerheads went back to work -- the Hyperion's capacitor at this point was beginning to run dry, its own local repair systems were no longer active, and the railguns were no longer firing. For all intents and purposes, it was dead in the water.

Morwen smirked a bit as she opened a communications channel with the pilot, instructing her crew to maintain a close orbit around the crippled vessel.

I'm screwed, aren't I?
Not necessarily, Pilot. 
What do you want?
I will allow you and your crew to leave for a fee amounting to a hundred and thirty million ISK.
Hrm... can't I finish off this contract job first?
I can't quite trust you to do that, now can I?
I only have to remove those two Hyasyoda ships over there. That's all. I won't shoot you; I've got the money.
If I see my wallet indicator flash with a hundred and thirty million ISK, I'll allow you to finish it with your ship and crew intact. Otherwise, my drones will just keep chewing, and well, they're hungry...
... Fine.
I'll disengage when I see transfer has been completed.
Er... I  actually don't quite have that much; I only have one-twenty. Want to give me a break?
That will suffice.
Paid.
Pleasure doing business with you, pilot. Fly safely, now.
Er... Thanks...


Morwen's smirk widened into a grin as she closed the communications channel and recalled the Hammerheads to their berths in the Nazara. A gentle nudge, and the cruiser veered off, turning away from the crippled, but recovering, Hyperion. The familiar tingle from earlier returned as Morwen reactivated the cloaking device and issued the order to engage the warp drive, the Pilgrim vanishing from sight just as silently as it had appeared.

She closed her eyes and relaxed a little, smile lingering on her face. It had been a long shot, but it'd paid off in the end. The crew would certainly be getting a well-deserved rest that night, once they'd returned to Goinard.

Unidentified Mountain Range, Goinard V: 12.3.112 - Mingwei, Shi

The forest behind her was alive with the sounds of birds and insects; a gentle breeze blew through her hair. Ahead of her, beyond the cliff edge, was a wide view of the several hundred kilometers of land between her and the sea. The sun was bright, and the sky a brilliant blue.

But on Morwen's face, there wasn't a smile to match the rest of the scene. Instead, a look of quiet determination was visible as she surveyed the small clearing along the edge of the cliff. A stasis pod floated several meters away just a few inches off the ground, accompanied by a nearby grav sled loaded with cut wood and small collection of other objects.

Morwen's gaze scanned across the clearing as she started moving towards the pack, gently pulling out what appeared to be a small camera drone, and then a primitive axe. She set the drone down on top of the stasis pod, activating it with a soft click before she moving to the sled and beginning to pull pieces of wood off and stack them on a level patch of ground a short distance away. Her movements were slow and methodical, each piece of wood placed with a careful and precise motion; each piece contributing to a larger whole in its own, personal way.

The camera drone watched her silently for over an hour as the delicately-placed stacks slowly but surely transformed from simple piles to the more recognizeable form of a pyre. Morwen took a few steps back, then started carefully walking around the completed pyre, her eyes scrutinizing every part of it, ensuring that it had been constructed exactly as intended.

Satisfied, Morwen moved silently over to the stasis pod and picked up the camera drone, moving it to one end of the stasis pod before returning to the control panel along the pod's side. She keyed something in, and with a soft hissing sound, the lid of the pod slowly opened, revealing the body of a young Jin-Mei woman.

The woman was dressed neatly in a white hanfu, her pose simple but refined. No visible trace remained of the quick, violent death her body had been exposed to; damage from exposure to vacuum had been repaired, as well as the myriad cuts and bruises caused by the shattering of the fragile chrysalis that had been the woman's hydrostatic capsule until it fell victim to a vengeful State Protectorate fleet in Aeschee.

Morwen cast a soft gaze over the body for a moment before she carefully reached her arms under and gently lifted it out, cradling it delicately as she moved over to the pyre and laid it down on top. A few minutes to straighten out the hanfu, to reposition the body, and then everything was ready. All the while, the mechanical sentinel continued watching her with focused interest.

She stepped over to the sled and picked up the sole remaining piece of wood: a half-meter stick about the width of the narrow part of her wrist and a bit of cloth wrapped tightly about one end. Her other hand moved to grab a small metal object from the sled; a gentle press to its side with her thumb, and a slow and deliberate motion bringing it into contact with the cloth wrapping soon followed.

Thin tendrils of smoke curled from the place the cloth had been touched, moments later turning into a steady flame, the light reflecting dimly in Morwen's brown eyes. She set the metal lighter down again and held up the makeshift torch, looking carefully at the pyre. Approaching it with care, she slowly walked around it in a circle, softly holding the burning torch to the edges of the pyre as she moved, watching as it steadily became alight with flames.

Gently setting the torch down among the flames, its purpose fulfilled, she turns back to the sled, picking up a container and gently prying the cover off with her fingers before setting them both down on the stasis pod. Reaching inside, she slowly pulls out a small canister and a small, delicate teacup with an intricate Jin-Mei pattern curling around its ceramic form. Morwen carefully twists the cap off of the canister then pours a small amount of a steaming liquid into the teacup. Afterward, she gently picks up the fragile cup and moves back towards the burning pyre, the cup held securely in her hands. She stops a few feet away, staring into the growing flames for a few moments before taking a sip of the tea.

A swift, gentle flick of her wrist, and the rest of the tea is cast onto the pyre, a soft hissing noise coming from the blaze as the liquid evaporates from the heat. Morwen stands there holding the teacup carefully, silently watching the glowing flames with an impassive look as the camera drone looks on.

Time passes, neither she nor the camera drone moving an inch. By the time the fire dies out, and nothing is left but ashes, several hours have passed by, and the distant sun is beginning to set, the sky now a deep orange hue. Morwen takes a deep breath, then puts the teacup and the small canister back into the container they had been stored in. She places the container on the sled, then moves over to the camera drone, picking it up gently and looking into its eye for a moment. Another soft click like before, and it is deactivated.

It only takes her a few more minutes to clean up and pack up what she had brought and move it back to the shuttle a short distance away. By the time the shuttle flies overhead on its return trip to the station Morwen had embarked from, only the pile of ashes indicates anyone had ever been there.

But even that is gone after a few more hours, the ashes scattered to the winds in ways only nature could provide.

Private Log Entry, 16.2.112

A long time ago, I made a promise. One that I intend to keep.

I said I wouldn't leave you, or let you get hurt.

I'm bringing you home, Lilly, no matter what.

I just hope you can forgive me for what I might have to do to keep that promise.

And that I can forgive myself.