Homeworld

The first few minutes after exiting hyperspace are always nauseating but memorable, every time. Home now lies between our groggy eyes and thousands of miles of cold space. Even in a groggy state, most of the crew were affixed at the tiny speck of blue and white, while the rest of us were bereft of speech and emotion, listening to the sound of our longing heart, pounding against our chests. We are estatic to see with our own eyes our beloved homeworld, but the anticipation of putting our feet down on terra firma is killing us on the inside.

With every passing hour, we begin to feel more human and less of bloodthirsty warriors. There's no more speak of war, of blood, of fallen comrades. Only of hopeful slumber, homemade repast, and for some of us, an embrace to take away the pain of war and death.

But home brings none of these sanctuaries or wishes, for my war is far from over.