Personal Log of Aracturus Camarus.
D7-ZAC
Aboard Spearhead Six.
As I watch worlds drift past me in the endless void of space, I wonder how many wars they have seen. How many more they would see.
It tires me endlessly.
I haven't seen her in weeks.
The war has exhausted me, and suddenly I know what the looks in the tired faces of the people upon these planets means.
They are tired of the death. The Killing. The struggle.
And so am I. So tired.
I rest each night uneasy, trying desperately to sleep. But sleep is denied to me, or is short enough as to be inconsequential. I watch battles from afar now. Perched in my bomber high above the battle, waiting for my moment to strike. Watching people die by the millions. It's... pretty. In it's own sort of way.
May I sleep in Death.
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