Despite whatever else he might have been into, more and more I find myself reflecting upon Commander Halerit’s words of wisdom to me and my squadmates: “You can’t be caught with your pants down. The Caldari are out there.”

Violence on Caldari Prime continues and the Federation has achieved nothing in the way of getting Gallente citizens out, nor made any progress toward restoring peace between the empires.

We’ve been caught with our pants down a lot lately. Fed Intel seems incapable of halting these leaks, and in the meantime, more lives and equipment are lost. Our captains seem disheartened and distracted and disorganized; I found myself floating in my pod again after one particularly stupid set of orders came down which we all followed and all paid the price for. The Caldari start out knowing where we’re going to be and then we bungle it because the brass handle the engagements poorly. Pathetic.

I lay in my bunk at night and listen. All around me I hear whispers of discontent and I have to agree with much of the sentiment. This war is being fought for all the wrong reasons, and all because a few people made one too many bad decisions. Who pays the price? We do. Our crews do. Every time I undock I wonder if there’s a squid waiting for me and ask myself what the point is—not because I’m afraid to go out and fight, but because if they already know where we’re going to be and what we’re going to do, and we show up totally oblivious and end up shot down by them, then limp home, gear up, and then do it all over again…what is the point? What is it all for?

This war between the Gallente and the Caldari was never my fight. The Serpentis are still out there, still infecting Placid and Everyshore and who knows where else with their poison. I’ve been distracted from my path.