Log 05X-3

Log 5X-3

-Author: Rinas Rylos
-Rank: C.E.O.
-Corporation: Rinas' Raiders
-Date: 117.02.17

Hey diary. Sorry about the, uh, somber note I kinda left you on last time. Figured that was a little bleak, so I thought I'd catch you up on everything that's been going on with my friends and family, since that's...mostly better. Not like everyone's come out of the last few years unscathed, but I'll get to that in a bit. I will say that there does seem to be something of a fatigue going around, which I guess is understandable. Year after year of endless warfare for companies that don't give two shits? It wears you down, and I'm not the only one who has said that enough is enough, but I'll get to that in a second too.

So...where to start? I guess we might as well begin with Kaz, since he's one of the first people I mentioned on here. Not including Doc, I guess, but..I think I didn't start writing about him until later, so Kaz it is. As for what how he's doing, he's actually retired. Well, I say retired, but the truth of it is that he struck a bargain with some of those flying space bastards and now he acts in an advisory role for 'em. Apparently the whole,"tearing themselves away from the empires and forming their own...thing," is really picking up traction, which means they're going to need planets, which will need protection, and who better to help equip their soldiers then someone who has a shitload of experience and the same complete disregard for human life as they do? Still has enough armaments and dropsuits to outfit an entire legion too, and it wouldn't surprise me if he had upped his arsenal with some more...grandiose equipment.  I'm talking about artillery and bombardments, the kinda stuff that you use when you're taking down a Military. Maybe not up to orbital capacity, but if he wants something to die, he's got plenty of choices in how to make it so. The whole thing leaves him fairly busy, but we still get to talk on occasion, which does kinda make me appreciate it that much more. I'd like to visit him sometime, but there's no way in hell that the Gallente would let me go meet with a "rogue" mercenary, especially considering he took a shitload of illegal weaponry with him. I'm not even supposed to technically talk with him, but there's ways past that if you know how...or pay someone that knows how.

As for Doc, he's come a long way. Used to be he had his own private clinic dealing with sorry cases like me, now he owns his own practice, and they deal with PTSD in all military vets, whether they're mercs like me or just regular old soldiers. Well, they'll actually help anyone, it's just that military vets get a discount, which is nice of him. I actually quit going to him about a year ago, once I realized that our talks were more social than medical. We still talk occasionally, but he's busy as shit. It's not quite like Kaz, though. I still babysit for him and his husband sometimes, which breaks up the monotony nicely. Usually I head over there to do it, since my own spartan digs aren't exactly kid friendly, particularly when it comes to keeping any of us sane. Do you remember Vena and Arya? The little terrors, or at least they used to be. They're older now, not -quite- as energetic, more prone to sit there wide-eyed and listen to me talk about my equipment and my life. I'd say they're a little sheltered, but given what Doc does, I'm not sure if they're fascinated because they've never heard this crap before, or if they've just taken a liking to me personally. Either way, they're way less exhausting and a bit more like actual people, which is always nice. I'm still,"Aunt," incidentally, which hasn't gotten any less mortifying as time has gone by.

So...my dad. When I said that not everyone has gotten better, he's mostly who I was referring to. I'll just go ahead and say he isn't dead, no, but he's...not doing well. To be more precise, he's in a coma. As for why, I wish I knew. The doctors have said that it was something engineered, like some kind of manufactured  disease or something like that, since the symptoms don't seem to match up to any known illness, and my dad is definitely not one for colonization, so it's not like he got some whacked out space plague. They've done everything they can, but they don't actually know -why- he's in a coma; His vitals suggest he's doing fine, and they can't find anything wrong, but...well, if he's not waking up, he's not waking up. One of the doctor's suggested that he might've stood a better chance if his organs hadn't already been on the way out, which I can't say was exactly surprising. Who knew that not drowning yourself in fucking booze might keep your healthier than if you didn't?

Fuck. Didn't really want to end this on a depressing note again, but it's time for bed. Uh...my coffee is good? I dunno, I'll try not to do it twice next time. 'Til then.