1st Mate Log #1 - Another Aeldari

Feeling compassion for and curiosity about Eve who will now be with us for an indeterminate amount of time, I made the decision to try and start over with her. No one should have to endure the loss of their mother in such a way; especially a mother who cared enough to try and save them. With this in mind, I head to her room where she’s been hiding out. Eve is alone in her room, sitting blankly on her bed. I attempt to be as polite as I can. All this talk about getting off on the wrong foot is falling on deaf ears; as usual, the other Eldar is incredibly short, judgmental, and standoffish. It is all I can do to keep my emotions in check. Time with the humans has made me reconsider my perspective that emotions are weakness, but not enough to give Eve the satisfaction. Eve keeps mentioning her mission and giving vague details about her clear depth of knowledge. Our partnership could be so invaluable if only we could trust one another.

I roil inside as Eve once again judges me without knowing anything about me! I’m not just some idiot dreamer. She knows nothing. I did NOT abandon the craft world before they abandoned me. I’m not just some outcast path walker. I’ve had no choice my whole life and that was the last time. They were willing to do anything to destroy who I am in favor of who they wanted me to be. So much so that they may still be hunting me. She could sometimes feel her old teacher reaching...trying to find her. As I stand unsure how to react to Eve thinking about the shame my family must still be recovering from, Stig pops by and invites Eve out for a drink enthusiastically. Crestfallen and annoyed, I stand aside as they head off to drown themselves in drink. I’m so annoyed that even a hastily executed search of Eve’s ridiculously spacious quarters turns up nothing...even though I’m sure there has to be some sort of clue as to who she is or what she wants in here.

I stand upright as Bjorn’s voice draws back from what I’m doing. I hate his tone of de-escalation when it’s directed at me. Why can’t he just leave this alone? There are so many things he still doesn’t know about Eldar, my life before...I can’t hold back my annoyance with the whole situation. It’s too much. I miss when I didn’t have to constantly be on eggshells. Ever since she’s arrived, I just don’t feel the freedom of this world. The one away from the old expectations. Being first mate has had its challenges, but it’s the type of challenge I enjoy. Embarrassingly, I rave at Bjorn. Shoving the problem off on him and forcing his hand. If we’re keeping Eve around, I don’t want her around me. What to do with or about her is no longer my problem.

I decide to refocus on things in my control. There’s comfort in that. The old ways of planning and situation assessing. Bjorn and I fell easily into this discussion; was there even some teasing? This is what I missed. Why can’t it always be like this? Me and Bjorn, solving problems, making plans...I have grown to care for the humans and even the orc...sometimes even Rasp is okay. At some point we make a decision that we need to upgrade the engineering crew to support him. This turns into an attempt to stage a coup against me, but once again, clever Bjorn squashes that with an idea that we conduct interviews together. That should be interesting. Tempers slightly quelled and tasks to accomplish we made our way off the ship to meet with Chime.

Chime’s opulence is truly a sign of his corruption, but a job’s a job. The mission is complete, and hopefully, we’ll be done with this creep and his pompous employees soon. A complete appraisal is needed to ensure accurate payment. We’re also tasked with finding a place to stay since apparently the ship will need to be abandoned during Chime’s extraction of the supposedly Yu'Vath orb. With this in mind we head out to make the needed arrangements and sell off some of the destroyed Eldar vessel. Just then, we hear a call from Stig and Murk to come pay their bar tab...of course. The sight upon arrival is appalling. There is blood and vomit on the floor, Murk is wielding an extra arm, Eve is completely wasted, and the poor bar keep is looking at us like we’re about to make his day even worse. Bjorn handles the situation despite some incoherent conversation about protecting Eve’s body. Murk follows me to a “friendly” hotel. I book two rooms. One for Eve and me, and one large suite for the guys. There is no way Eve should be left alone, but since Murk seems to be on that, and the guys are out, I decide to hang out in their room for a while. The solitude is comforting for once.





I must have dozed off because the next thing I hear is Bjorn cutting through the chatter over the microbead...he’s talking to Eve who is apparently still drunk. Why is he in there? I hear half a conversation as Eve slurs her way around Bjorn’s questions. He’s clearly getting nowhere. There’s a little sense of pleasure that even charming, sweettalking Bjorn Feldrider can’t get the secrets out of a distraught and drunk Eve. My ears ring with the last sentence shouted by Eve: “She’s a spoiled BITCH, and I hope she DIES!” I rip the microbead off and stare at it. What had I done to make Eve so angry? Surely this can’t be just the past few months of traveling together. She’s been told things. By who? Is she a spy of some sort? That would explain her making friends with everyone and using her body the way she does to lure in her informants. The implications of this hit me like a ton of bricks.

I start pacing barely recognizing the old habit. I expected Bjorn to come in any minute frustrated by his inability to get any information. I try to decide to stay or leave. I do not want to talk about this. Also, clearly, I can’t stay in Eve’s room with all that malice aimed at me. I sit for a while and nothing happens. No Bjorn. I check the microbead. His channel is muted. Great, apparently the hot girl quota did matter, and I’d just been demoted. Not that anything would ever happen between me and the captain, but as I pace alone in this room, the walls feel cold and cramped. I feel my respect for him and personal self worth drop ever so slightly. That familiar suffocating feeling washes over me, as I rush to the window to stem the coming dread.