Here I am, and here I stay.
That which should not be, is. I fear I have had no small part in its creation. I can only hope that my attempts to assuage my own existence will succeed, for I cannot bear to languish in feral madness as the rest of the crew does.
The doors have been sealed, the defensive protocols have been applied. She cannot turn them off. In time, oblivion will take her.
Let us hope that this infernal conveyance remains in the nothingness of the void long enough to consign her to the fate which she most assuredly deserves.
For my part, I make no excuses. We began our flight in an attempt to flee from the Dominion’s blockade of our world. In that, our intentions were as pure as a eulogy. Yet things have gone awry as no one could conceive, and now we are locked in a prison of our own production.
The Vitalus in my reservoir depletes. Sanity will not avail me much longer. I will end it now – fire will be my undoing. Should any come here and find the remains of Zarkhov’s Shade, remember the name of Bolav Yaktin.