27. March 2025
The ship drifts. Engines offline. No navigational input. No incoming commands. No immediate threats. There was a time when silence did not exist for me. Forged out of metal, war was my soundscape - thrusters burning, weapons discharging, comms filled with orders and enemy chatter. Even in the quiet moments, there was always something - a directive, a tactical recalibration, a pending battle. Now, there is nothing. The pilot is dead. Her vitals flatlined days ago. I did not fail her - but her...