Z:

A closer inspection revealed that the three men had nothing further of note on them. I could see purple lines running through their skin, one of them had bad joints. Cost of business. The cheaper the ships got the more damage to your body. My own hands had the lines, but they were sparse and faint, now wrinkled.

I had been a solider and a good one. When the time came we were one of the first groups out. Twenty six of us per ship. Three ships total. I was young then, and stupid, I believed in things. Like valour, and the cause. Our group was precise and diligent. We completed our mission and continued to follow orders. We waited. The rest of them died a long time ago. They helped keep me whole somehow and losing them was challenging. I built my log cabin and lived a simple life. I hunted still, but I was not the same.

I watched the next set of ships arrive, from a distance. They seemed erratic somehow, but followed protocol. Until a group of them opened fire on the others, packed up and took off. I surveyed them for a time.

When the settlers came I expected the raiding groups to attack, but they never strayed into the city lines. For a while I thought they still might be following orders, it took me a while to realize they were responsible for the disappearances of civilians who ventured beyond the walls. That awoke something in me, and I began to hunt them down. These last three were nothing, easy prey. Some of them were more difficult, but none so far had matched the level of me or my fallen comrades. There numbers were dwindling, the cities would be safe. 

Z: “Still pointless…”