Alex Rowe

[NiCAD]

I was true to my word. The day after I reached Freeport Nine, I enlisted in the Zoner military. One of the guys in my new flight group, Hodge, showed me to my quarters and told me that I'd be meeting my commanding officer at nine the next morning.

He was not a kind man. My commander pushed me through basic training at a breakneck pace, because he felt that I had the potential for a command. I brushed this off as mere nonsense; the wistful thinking of an old man. A few years later, after I had finished basic training with two confirmed kills under my belt, the old codger signed me up for tactical school. I was whisked off the next day, with barely any time for goodbyes.

To this day, I don't feel I was cut out for command school. True, I never lost more than 5% of my forces in any simulation, but that was mostly due to my overly cautious strategy. The bold and daring students went on to command early, but it took me a full six years before I reached the rank of lieutenant.

At this point, I was given command of a six-eagle force, as well as a small gunboat for myself. Over the next two years, we defended Freeport Nine from both Nomads and the odd malfunctioning harvester--all without a single man lost. I was proud of this statistic, and was even promoted to Lieutenant Commander for it.

My naivete was shattered, however, shortly thereafter. On that day, I was shaken from a lifelong reverie; dislodged from the reality I knew so well.

Transcriber's Note: As you can see, contrary to popular belief, Mr. Rowe was not a superior commander as a student. His abilities were sublime to the point of a Nomad's own, and the fools at his command school could not see that. In any case, reality quickly proved the man's worth, insofar as a human can be worth anything.

Transcriber's Note - Extended: A thorough analysis of these pages of the diary suggests that Mercurior was injecting his own blood in to Rowe's lymph at the time, thereby causing a slight inflammation in the fingers, and subsequent bodily rejection transferred microscopic amounts of the blood back out of the skin, down Rowe's pen, and on to the paper. Assuming that he continued the practice, this allows us to determine the status of Mercurior's body and infestation level at the time of each diary entry. I will record these results when I recieve them.

Transcriber's Note - Edit: The final character in the word "naivete" was not displaying properly. This has been corrected. Stupid bloody typewriter.