<span class="mu-i">Galdate: 256.013 Post Cataclysmus.</span>
<span class="mu-i">Ship Time: 1553 hrs - Beta Shift.</span>
<span class="mu-s">Personal Log Entry #01:</span>
<span class="mu-i">[Audio Transcription]</span>
The dreams have been getting worse.
Looking through the viewport used to give me chills. The endless fields of all-devouring black holes staring back at me like the eyes of dead gods. Now I shudder thinking about confronting the dark behind my own eyelids.
I wake up gasping most nights - my poor bunkmate, bless his soul, puts up with it.
It’s been two weeks since my promotion to Lieutenant Commander and my subsequent inheritance of a command implant and yet, despite taking my immuno-suppressants as prescribed, each night is more disturbing than the last. The nightmares fade fast, leaving terror and bitterness behind but no memory.
I’ve considered talking to father - asking him if the symptoms lingered when it was his turn under the knife but… If this isn’t normal, if I’m somehow incompatible, if…
<span class="mu-i"><Sigh audible.></span>
I have a duty, a responsibility - to my crew, my ship, my family’s legacy- Hell, to what’s left of the galaxy.
Hundreds of worlds rely on the relief supplies, equipment and protection that we provide, that we alone can deliver. Two hundred years past her retirement age and the Pee-Dee is still the only voidship powerful enough to dive through this forsaken wasteland of a sector and still be fighting fit when she surfaces.

I has fallen to me -

>Blair, the eldest son, born and raised on these very decks (Any+)
>Dallas, the second son, trained at our family’s new academy (Mind+)
>Lachlan, the third son, torn from Mother to pay for the sins of the father (Soul+)
>Blake, the bastard, a jumped up marine and a choice of last resort (Body+)

-to walk the path of my forebears, learning the ropes as it were, to command the last true voidship and ensure the continuing survival of billions.