[Older now, with the cost of experience written on features that still radiated that familiar aura of optimism, Sarah McFarlen sat, legs crossed, on the bridge of a ship that stretched beyond the narrow perspective of the camera, grey corridors vanishing in a sea of shadows behind her.]

You know, I don't think I ever won one of our arguments. You always were better at that sort of logical, step-by-step, thinking then I was. Odd for a so-called engineer, huh? Either that or you were just a better shot with a pillow.

So, while I want nothing more than to try and talk you out of leaving, I won't. You'd just win that one too. Instead, I'll wish you good luck.

I know I haven't been the best friend. I wasn't there when you needed me. More often than not, you came to find me before I went looking for you. I never offered to help, never really considered that... Considered that, well, you were a human being as well.

[She averted her gaze from the camera, staring down at a datapad clutched in her lap, yet not really seeing it. Battered and covered in a mixture of pen markings, soil, and ship chemicals, it was barely recognisable as the new device she carried on Buffalo years ago.]

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm sorry.

You saved my life more times than I can remember, and I never really thanked you for that either. Part of me thought you weren't ever really there, the way you came and went. Until I saw your message, I suppose I wasn't ever sure. I used to think that you were my own personal guardian angel, the way Anubis would appear right when I needed help most. Last year, when I was travelling with the Zoners out on the Edge Worlds, I used to look out the window and imagine I could see the outline of an Osiris shadowing us, hovering just out of view, and I felt a little less alone.

It'll be weird to know that it's gone.

Did I ever tell you that my Dad was in the Navy? Electronics analyst or something. A long time ago, he left not long after I was born. Mom used to worry herself sick about the danger. I can't remember much from back then, but I remember that. Maybe that was why I left the way I did. Anyway, my family goes back a long way. I had a distant cousin who drew up the family tree, all the way back to Scotland and Ireland on Old Earth. I guess some of that stuck with us. There was a song Mom used to sing before Dad left. The tune stuck in my head for years until I was finally old enough to learn the words.

I haven't sung it since I left, but, if you don't mind...

[Light shone on her face as she flicked the datapad on, the camera helpfully linking lyrics. Conveniently, the feed obscured Sarah's face. It seemed the former Rogue was less confident then she let on. Nonetheless, after a moments silence, a voice drifted across the comms line, distorted by distance, but still clearly audible. Slow and hesitant, she hovered between lines, skipping a few beats before she settled into a rhythm, voice building in strength.]


[Lyrics faded along with the music, the screen once again showing a hunched Sarah McFarlen, hair hanging loose from her forehead. She drew a breath that caught for a moment, the faintest trace of a tear, and then it was gone again, the girl returning her gaze to the impartial camera.]

I still think peace is possible out here, in the troubled little sphere of space we live in. If not between factions, then at least with ourselves. I'll know I'll keep looking for mine. I hope you find your peace out there too, Christopher Dangen, whatever it may be.