The Cairo Dossier: How the Nomads Conquered Omicron Zeta

[HussarCorsair]

The Cairo Dossier: How the Nomads Conquered Omicron Zeta

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Personal Reflections of Astrid "Talousem" Weber- Part One

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From the Infirmary of the OLV-Mago

I don't know if command can see this. I don't know if they care. I don't know why I'm doing this. All I know is that I want to talk about what I DO know. Not like I have much else to do.

To begin with, the life of an Order pilot doesn't make for much privacy. It is a life of seemingly blind obedience, blind faith, and hope- which is intrinsically blind. I could sit up in this hospital bed and hope command might intercept this recording just as blindly as I might blindly obey an order to launch torpedoes into a seemingly empty space. I could hope that Humanity has some appreciation for the suffering that has been wrought these past few weeks, but only the blind could have such hope. We are not heroes- not at this rate... we are martyrs for a faith that goes unheard.

Three weeks ago, I received a briefing detailing a recall order to Fort Carthage. Kusarian warships had been sighted massing in the far reaches of the Wall of Seth. In that same moment, I received an emergency hail from Cairo Station detailing that the Battleship Mars and about a dozen other capital assets were massing in Omicron Zeta. I recall the moment vividly, as I had grown bored hunting nonexistent "low strength" Core convoys in Omicron Delta. I was floating around the Kiribati, engines off and cloak on. I had hoped the hails were a report from elsewhere in the system.

I had hoped... because I could not *see*.

No matter, the priority of the transmissions was clear. I forwarded the orders to the rest of my squadron, and we set course for Omicron Minor. Along the way I wondered to myself why I had wasted these past weeks floating around in hostile territory when we should have been worried about trouble brewing at home...

Home...

Amidst the endless green fog I couldn't help but turn my head to look at it. I could see it right outside my port viewscreen. My homeworld, or what was left of it. Toledo's cracked and oozing crust made for a sight that could only be described as beautiful after the monotony of Minor's slice of the Edge. Strange, I remember being huddled into the center of the crowded shuttles. I remember the fear. I wasn't even in my teens yet. I couldn't see the moment of its destruction back then. But as I passed by, I thought Toledo looked... good. Reassuring, somehow.

What even is a home, anyway? The only one I could *see* was... dead