Dialectic Journal 1
Journal En Retiring to the ship’s locker, I was exhausted… body resistance had shielded me from scrapes and bruises, but I was sore and pained from the battle behind me. I was also dealing with the residual shock of the ordeal, my first off-world experience since I was returned to Earth as a small child. My head reeling, I searched my memory… over three months since I had received a contact from the Order, or any of it’s members. The attack and kidnapping to which I’d been subjected could clearly have been targeted at the Order, but the involvement of my doctor at the scene left me wondering if there were not some other explanation….
I settled into a contemplative state… focusing inward, I sought to turn off the noise of combat and confusion, still stinging in my head…. the guilt of my impulse decision to draw 4-arms in combat with the guards was still with me, and so I attempted to balance the rationale of fates that had led this brutish, but noble figure to be sacrificed in my objective gamble to escape, enlisting the aid of the dragon. Allowing the doctor to come along at that point was almost an afterthought. His reckless and insane behavior had nearly gotten us killed in the bullpen, while we waited for the combat to come. I am also beginning to question the wisdom of continuing to retain his medical services, given that his behavior seems almost more unstable than my own. I hold him responsible for the death of four arms, but as a fellow human, I was rather obliged to see him safely back to earth. I know full well what might become of an altered human, at the mercy of powerful alien forces. The galaxy can be a cold, and unforgiving space.