It has been three months since I was cleared to go home. I don have one, but I was released anyway. I was certain I would never set foot on a shuttle again. I still hear the breathing and see the red eyes in the pitch sometimes when I have the lights off at night. No one in the UF believed somethin was there. I figured they were right and I had gone a wee bit mad and decided to build meself a quiet cabin near Nonnie’s Lake. I was darned proud of that slab too.
Till thirteen days ago when my fishing was so rudely interrupted.
I’ve accepted a new station, and everything they have told me. Apparently there is work that needs dunne. I don know if what these lads say is true is true or nae but theres war on the horizon and fightin is in my blood. So I will fight. Tomorrow I go back into one of those forsaken bathtubs and won’t unfreeze till we get to our deployment. I don like the thought of giving up and runnin away so we can come back swingin later, but I plan to swing like a mabear when I return. These new Brotherhood boys don’t seem to mind my occasional seein ghosts, and I don mind they play off-book. It was the brass that left me frozen and called me mad, and if they refuse to let me fight, then call me a pirate! You cannot keep a McTaggart DOWN!