The end is nigh.
It would be an understatement to say we did what we could. I couldn't be prouder of my men, but it wasn't enough. The specter of inevitability hangs just enough in sight to remind us we've lost. I feel its pull when I gaze at it from the Commons Room. Most of the men have long since surrendered their indignation, opting instead to come to peace with themselves and their brothers, although a few burning minds in Engineering have embraced their aimless urgency, to what affect I know not. Bays 17 and 18 were quarantined after the Last Stand, not by us, but by themselves. They ceased communication and are the only ones with the means to open the hatches. Maybe they've quarantined us instead. It matters little in the end; We're all on this corpse of a ship together, being drawn ever closer into the darkness.
I can't help but remember the defining times of this existence. Funny how something so important to you never leaves familiarity, always feels like it happened an hour ago. I don't remember what I had for dinner last night, but I remember to the detail this ship's launch a decade past. Feverish - that's the only word I can describe it with. The frenzied political maneuvering of the various guilds, the egos established, the lines drawn in the sand, it all took place here. Over the years it became apparent the metal of each personality, where their loyalties laid, what was really important to them. Some left, never to return, some couldn't forget the pull of the USS:VNDT. Some weren't so lucky. Ensign Jakotsu was an honorable man, it's a damn shame the way he went.
What I'll really remember the most is the old guard. Squadron '01 and '02, most of whom have long since left, and probably wisely, to clearer skies. A few took up the call of moderation, a few were banned by said authorities, some even started their own guilds. But every single one started here. The brass would occasionally try to reign in what to them appeared to be a PR nightmare out of control, but eventually understood the futility of caging such a beast. We had forged ourselves here in spite of our limitations, maybe even because of them. Although not at once, they slowly allowed us to govern ourselves, and raise our own members to rank of moderator. Who better to watch our crew than the crew itself?
Seems like they may have had the last laugh.
Contact has been lost just under 2 weeks, well before word of our fate. Early hypotheses posited we were collateral damage, a longtime thorn in the establishment's side, conveniently swept up in the wave of reconstruction and consolidation. Others seem to think something more sinister is afoot. It doesn't matter now, we have no further course of action. Knowing would only come as an mistimed slap in the face of our progress.
I'm going to miss the 20kays, just shy of it myself. I'll miss the rivalry with the excitable amateurs from USS:VNFF. I'm going to miss the occasional brass who stumbled into the wrong piranha pit, gingerly holding his hindquarters as he scurried back to his deck. I'll miss those who fell by the wayside - You're an angel, Heathor. I'll miss the fiery debates that melded us always closer. I'll miss the nirgah's, the ratnigs, the horns, and the those lovely ladies Khaz always seemed to have around.
But mostly, I'll miss my crew.
What awaits us on the other side is unknown. Most of the families have huddled in the chapel, F5ing in desperation during our final moments here. Panic has long left me. I've said my goodbyes and find myself passing time by this window more and more. It seems bigger than when I first saw it.
I think I'll have a horn.
See ya, Space Cowboy.
- END LOG -
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Scientific and Statistical analysis showing social and economic inequality is the downfall of society (From TED conference): [link=http://www.cnn.com/2011/11/06/opinion/wilkinson-inequality-harm/index.html?&hpt=hp_c2]http://www.cnn.com/2011/11/06/opi
