"It is with a heavy heart that I must report..."

Never gets easier. Tai had already written a couple of letters regarding deceased crew previously- it being somewhat of a tradition for Captains to do so in the event of a fatality- but this? After having his ship, the KCS Dies Irae shot out from under him, he was having to write over a hundred. Sitting in his quarters aboard Flonares Orbital, the brilliant blue-red Oracle Nebula visible out the window, a bottle of whiskey and a cracked glass by his side. Most of the lost crew he knew on a first name basis. All because he gave the order to abandon ship.

"...sad to say they made the ultimate sacrifice..."

A routine patrol turned into a fight for their lives as a surprise invasion rocked up, obliterating many of the small picket fleet doing the rounds- it wasn't until too late that the main body of the 4th fleet showed up- by time they arrived, Cirilian Prime's population centres were covered by mushroom clouds. With the hull integrity beginning to fail, the order was given to abandon ship- an order that was perhaps too little, too late. As the dying escort was piloted onto a ramming course, a fusion missile slammed into the ship's missile magazines, cooking off the remaining number (which itself would have still been three digits), breaking the ship apart and killing most of those who'd made the run to the escape pods.

"...unwavering in the face of overwhelming..."

No, you idiot, how could you have known? he quietly, internally admonishes himself as he catches that train of thought before it can get truly rolling. Reaching to the side and taking another swift gulp of his favourite whiskey, the tigerdrake having rather uncharacteristically gotten through half of it in a single night. And no thanks to his genetically-enhanced metabolism, it's not doing much to ease his sorrow.

"...didn't make it out in time, despite their best..."

To say survivor's guilt was busy tearing him up would be an understatement. Why did he manage to 'just' get away with being ejected into space as the ship broke apart, his hardsuit saving him from a second grisly death by spacing, when most of his crew perished? Because you were sitting in the bridge, that's why! They were much closer to the missile magazines when that shot hit! comes a grumble in reply to that, clutching at straws to try and rationalise why he should be so lucky. Anything to ease his conscience.

"...were a real asset to the crew, always had a smile..."

Nobody would have blamed him for using a template to send these letters by. Not when there's over a hundred of them to be done. But, stubborn as he is, he'll write every damned one himself and be honest with them! Their families deserve to know why their sons, daughters, brothers, sisters, and lovers aren't coming home. A sacrifice in vain to stop Cirilian Prime's colony from being wiped out. Sure, he was getting to command the ship he technically hijacked out from the planet's shipyards, the namesake Arbiter strike cruiser, but that wasn't much consolation. None of his crew would be coming with him- the survivors either choosing for an honorable discharge, or ending up on other ships.

"...Yours respectfully, and remorsefully, Cpt. Tai Kallina, KCS Dies Irae (former), 4th Fleet."

One more down, dozens to go. It was going to be a long, long night.

---

Not a particularly 'pleasant' piece, it must be said, but that just makes the picture's execution all the better.  Holtz nailed the lighting on this one, really sets the tone of just how awful things have just gone. Especially with that long list of names beside the drake. Poor bastard- one of the several events that's lead to him having an almost permanent thousand yard glare.

Tai belongs to me,

Art's by  Holtz