| Author | Message | ||
     MGen Jeremy Ironside |
By the end of the war with the Hegemony, one quarter of the men under my command when we crossed over to M64 had been killed, and half of the remainder had been wounded at some point or another. A third of the Camelynians were KIA. The militia casualties on Reor were even worse. As a military commander in charge of so many individuals, one has to remove themselves from seeing the men and women behind these figures, or they shall find themselves crumbling under the weight of responsibility held over so many lives. This was not extraordinarily difficult for me given my background, and in many cases I had never met or heard of many of the dead and wounded – especially those outside of the Starfleet Marine contingent. Additionally, I was lucky in that almost all of those whom I had met, or did know, survived the conflict. Peter Lightbody, Dieter Stampfer, Christopher Dole – all whom I had known and worked with for more than a decade, had escaped the fate of so many of their colleagues relatively unscathed. Over the course of the war, no one I counted amongst my personal…friends fell against the Pfhor. Following a war, one’s sense of security tends to swell. Although I was outwardly suspicious that the Pfhor were truly destroyed, and that our fledgling protectorate would never be truly ‘safe’ from another conflict, I was looking forward to what should have been a period where I did not need to review a casualty report – did not need to add to the list of those who had fallen under my command. So I was understandably devastated at the loss of the Stephen Gregg I knew during the first series of looping events. I had worked with and had known Gregg for more than two decades. He had always been quiet, but strong; Deadly, but reserved. Hindsight is twenty/twenty, and none of us can say that there weren’t signs that something wasn’t right with the man, but perhaps he pulled a blanket over our eyes that diverted my attention for all those long years. To lose a man with such strength in him, with such ability and resourcefulness in duty, left a gap in my command structure I could never hope to completely fill. And to lose him not to a combat loss, but to…something completely beyond all our understanding was enough to lead me to despair for a time. I was hurt, in the basest sense of the word. Was the man I had known a real person? Did he exist at some point, to be replaced by these powers without names? How much of his advice and his actions completed under my orders were calculated in the heart of this ‘Spindle’. I felt helpless, for a time; suspicious as well. We knew that these powers had used me before, along with the Admiral. That a part of us had been taken or utilized for purposes we could not comprehend. Were my actions even my own? But I could not second guess every move, so I accepted what had happened and moved on. I did what I could to believe that the Stephen Gregg I knew was not the being (or beings) that now represented him. Some of that belief was confirmed today. Some of it wasn’t. His words to me felt familiar, important, and I hold no doubt that they will prove to guide our actions in a fashion that will be critical to our survival as we wade into a sea of doubt and half-understandings where we will attempt to stop a disaster of our own future making. His words to the Admiral will no doubt be similarly critical. On a more positive note, it would appear that we may be receiving some assistance from the Nexus, shortly. A representative has come forth with Olmy and requested to meet with us. Hopefully they are more forward than Olmy was the last time we met – I am becoming somewhat short on patience with riddles. At least of the future, I am now certain of one thing. The passage is hard, but it is the only way through. ---- Rare personal log of Major General Jeremy Ironside, Stardate 240404.19. Published in: Lightbody, Colonel Peter. “Iron Eagle: The Defenders’ First Soldier”. Reor’sa Publishing Group, Churchill Downs. ©2412. Page 504. |