0300 hours
Ravelin, Bastion
Army Barracks
My life used to make sense. I'd journeyed from Bakura to Bastion with the goal of signing on to the Imperial Army. Age was mildly working against me, but I had technical and professional expertise that caught the Empire's eye. I was accepted and have successfully worked as a cadet.
I worked hard. I networked. I stretched beyond my usual boundaries to play spy for a mission. I've been through training to become a Stormtrooper. My life has been exactly what I set out for it to be.
And then, I was assigned a strange trip back to my homeworld. That's when everything began to fall apart. You know the feeling when you're in a sim that's poorly done, where the opponents and environment look false? That is how Bakura seemed to me as Tuk Arghann and I worked through and successfully completed our mission there. It felt as though all of my memories were false and misconstrued. To that end, a jaunt back to my neighborhood suggested that it had never been my neighborhood at all.
What the frell?
My life has been based on goal-setting and structure. Order. Following the chain of command.
Or has it?
If not for Tuk's gentle suggestion that perhaps this is some sort of PTSD, I'd think I had lost my mind. But, I am reluctant to bring this forward to the medics in case there is something wrong with me.
At the Ravelin Ball, I saw a woman I'd swear that I'd known. The craziest part is that I felt like I'd known her intimately. But that makes absolutely no sense, so where is that coming from? Maybe I am crazy and this is another symptom of that madness.
Am I a danger to myself? To my squadron? To Tuk?
Even stranger is that I'd told Tuk to call me Spark. My name is Lisbeth. It's always been Lisbeth. Where did "Spark" come from and what does that mean?
Signing off,
Cadet Lisbeth Vallen
Ravelin, Bastion
Army Barracks
My life used to make sense. I'd journeyed from Bakura to Bastion with the goal of signing on to the Imperial Army. Age was mildly working against me, but I had technical and professional expertise that caught the Empire's eye. I was accepted and have successfully worked as a cadet.
I worked hard. I networked. I stretched beyond my usual boundaries to play spy for a mission. I've been through training to become a Stormtrooper. My life has been exactly what I set out for it to be.
And then, I was assigned a strange trip back to my homeworld. That's when everything began to fall apart. You know the feeling when you're in a sim that's poorly done, where the opponents and environment look false? That is how Bakura seemed to me as Tuk Arghann and I worked through and successfully completed our mission there. It felt as though all of my memories were false and misconstrued. To that end, a jaunt back to my neighborhood suggested that it had never been my neighborhood at all.
What the frell?
My life has been based on goal-setting and structure. Order. Following the chain of command.
Or has it?
If not for Tuk's gentle suggestion that perhaps this is some sort of PTSD, I'd think I had lost my mind. But, I am reluctant to bring this forward to the medics in case there is something wrong with me.
At the Ravelin Ball, I saw a woman I'd swear that I'd known. The craziest part is that I felt like I'd known her intimately. But that makes absolutely no sense, so where is that coming from? Maybe I am crazy and this is another symptom of that madness.
Am I a danger to myself? To my squadron? To Tuk?
Even stranger is that I'd told Tuk to call me Spark. My name is Lisbeth. It's always been Lisbeth. Where did "Spark" come from and what does that mean?
Signing off,
Cadet Lisbeth Vallen
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