I did something exceptionally stupid today and people died as a result.
Devan convinced me to go out patrolling with him. I didn’t want to. I was exhausted; I hadn’t slept. I stayed up all night fruitlessly trying to get in touch with Mom and watching the news for any scrap of information that might tell me she is all right. Now I know how Devan felt two weeks ago. When I couldn’t get through to Intaki I called Njal instead and cried for hours…
Devan insisted getting out into space would be better than sitting around watching the same stories recycled on Scope News every ten minutes. I know he just wanted to try to get my mind off what’s going on at home. I gave in. I shouldn’t have. I should have been stubborn and listened to my gut and stayed in my quarters.
We encountered a group of rogue slavers in Halle and engaged. For me it was a short fight. I can’t honestly say I don’t know what happened—obviously my mind wasn’t on the battle, wasn’t monitoring my ship, wasn’t thinking about my crew…just wasn’t paying attention.
I wasn’t paying attention so I failed to activate any of the ship’s defenses, and the slavers had turned their full attention onto me. I might as well have been flying a sheet of paper into the sun for how fast the hull disintegrated. An Imperial Bataivah scored the final blow that blew Mourning Star to smithereens. I was the only survivor.
Devan stayed behind and wiped out the slavers alone, but I find that to be only a small consolation. The fact remains this loss should not have happened. It’s one thing to kill or be killed in the heat of battle, but when your death is due only to blatant negligence? I’m surprised CONCORD didn’t revoke my pilot’s license on the spot.
I sent the families of my crew double the value of their contracts… The money by no means repays them for the loss of their loved ones.
Tomorrow a hundred more people will line up to take their place, as if they never existed.