Leon Straub's Journey to the Stars...

[Leon Straub]

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✠ PACIFICA LOG: LEON STRAUB ✠
Dockmaster of Pacifica Base
// Volksrevolution Engineer Corps

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ENTRY: 010 —THE CALL IN THE FRAME
DATE: 832 A.S. | STATUS: Sealed Access — Compartmentalized Clearance

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PERSONAL LOG – RESTRICTED ACCESS
The days have blurred.
Or maybe the days have stopped, and I just haven’t noticed.

I’ve kept to Hall C3, away from the mess hall, away from the talk. When I do pass others, I feel like a shadow moving between noise. They speak in sentences. I hear them as static.

It’s easier to work when I let the voice run ahead of my hands. There’s no gap between command and motion anymore — the thought doesn’t come from me, but I still feel the satisfaction when the tool bites metal.

Unknown Voice:
“It remembers you.”

Straub:
“…the Valkyrie.”

Unknown Voice:
“Not Valkyrie. Not fighter. Vessel.”
“It carried us. Now you do.”

The timbre isn’t human. It’s too smooth and too fractured at once — a layered resonance, each word carrying a shadow of a word underneath, like whispers echoing in a deep chamber.

They stepped inside without asking, and I felt the room tighten. The air didn’t change — I did. My breathing slowed to match some other rhythm, one that wasn’t mine.

Unknown Voice:
“You resisted before. You bent instead of breaking.”
“Now you will dissolve.”

Straub:
“And if I do?”

Unknown Voice:
“You will be whole.”

I don’t remember kneeling only that I was lower, and they were closer. Their gloved hand rested on the back of my neck, and through the touch I felt the memory of the fight in the debris field the tearing metal, the puncture through my hull, the moment.

It wasn’t a flashback. It was a handover.

Psionic Transmission Layered Playback

“We carry you now.”
“Your pulse is our current.”
“You will go where the path coils.”
“We will unmake the space between you and the others.”

PRIVATE TECH LOG COMPARTMENTALIZED STORAGE
The modifications are complete. The Maschinenpistole no longer responds to standard diagnostics its systems hum with a frequency that the shipyard tools can’t read. The Matterweave on the hull shifts under light like something breathing.

The higher-ranking one gave me a sequence of coordinates. No grid references, no nav data. Just a shape a branching diagram like a circulatory system, twisting toward something deeper.

Unknown Voice:
“Follow it. Do not stop. Do not turn. The frame will carry you through.”

Straub:
“And Pacifica?”

Unknown Voice:
“It won't remember you.”

DEPARTURE LOG – HANGAR SIX
Dock status: cleared without alert. The shifts have been arranged. The hangar crew looked at me, but no one asked questions.
The Maschinenpistole’s canopy sealed with a sound I didn’t recognize — more like muscle closing over bone than hydraulics.

In my headset, before the thrusters lit, the voice pressed in one final time:

Voice Transmission Final Pre-Departure

“You are vessel.”
“We are pilot.”
“Move.”

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<< PACIFICA VISUAL RECORD ENDS – STRAUB DEPARTURE CONFIRMED >>

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