Crack in The Wall

[Cortana Clark]

. . .Cmdr. Ilyana Routh, Liberty Insurgency . . .INS-Justicar, CIC Deck / Omega-55 The days are barely passing now. I can walk the Bridge ten times a day and it won’t make a major difference. The silence, the silence is what is wearing us down day by day. We stick to our routines because what else should we do? If we start slipping, even just a bit, it might all come apart. We're not built for limbo. We are stuck here waiting for nothing. At this rate, I don’t even want anything to happen anymore, because we won’t be ready—no matter how many drills we run. We’re already spread thin across the ship. We keep it together, somehow, but if something does break through that calm, I’m not sure we’ll be able to hold up. And I’m starting to worry more about Carrick. While we’re all trying to stay as fit as we possibly can, he seems to be slipping more and more. Day after day, it gets worse. You can hardly see his eyes anymore. They lost their sparkle. Like he’s not even looking at us. Like he’s already fading. Kael notices too, I think. But she won’t say it. She’s been burying herself in diagnostics and recalibrations that don’t need doing. And Jace? He’s just getting quieter. That’s how you know it’s bad. When even the loud ones stop talking. What am I supposed to tell them? That it's going to get better? That someone out there still remembers we exist? Even I catch myself slipping more often than I want to admit. I almost forgot my own voice earlier when I gave orders. Like I didn’t recognize it. It’s not the hull that will give out first. It’s us.

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