The ghost Sabre streaked across Tau-23 with no noticeable bearing. Renato paid little attention to the matter. Captured by his thoughts, he willed the craft to move forward, veering here and there whenever a capricious whim crossed his mind. The ghost was experimenting soberness as he hadnt ever since he died.
Aspects from his past existence had meant enough then to serve as basis for his goals. Family, friends and honor; those held diminishing meanings for him now. The allegiances he kept were but cultural reflexes he had acquired in his past life. Even the basic motivations didnt apply. He had no body to sustain, no mortality to fear. Their purpose; if they had been given any by the intent which ensnared them into those apparitions, or if they would find one of their own; should have nothing to do with their pasts as living.
When he left Alpha, Renato had decided that no matter how clear the memories he kept and how proper the mimic he could muster of his old self, there were no means through which he would reclaim his old life. The men he called his brothers respected the memory of his deeds and of the man he was before, as an equal. To them, the ghostly form he was represented the manifestation of a soul tormented by the outrage of betrayal. One that should be helped wane and disappear as it was proper to the dead. As much as they wouldnt deny him help in easing his pain, they wanted him gone. His presence, not only a reminder of the Corsair that double-crossed them all, was a mockery and defiance to their understanding of life.
Renato had expected feeling a profound sadness upon giving up his old life. It didnt happen that way. As he flew away from Alpha, an enhanced sense of clarity struck him. Everything around him came in as a more vivid experience. His own body, should he call it as such, struck him as something renewed and stronger in a sense he wasnt yet ready to understand.
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