Personal Journal of Fyodor Malikov

I can just hear the croak of spring frogs above the dull hum of the Chimeran fleet
passing overhead. The Chimera are mere hours away from completing the mission
they began nearly half a century ago. Their towers now wrap our planet in a web. Their
energy courses across continents, across oceans, across dead towns and pillaged
wastelands of cities. The energy flows toward one point. One inevitable goal. One final
Chimeran victory that will settle a score now millions of years old.

It is my deepest regret that I have failed in each and all of my endeavors to bring some
measure of salvation to mankind. All my efforts have finally proven to be worse than
futile. I have violated the one sacred code all doctors swear to obey: "Do no harm." I
have given the world the Cloven. I have given the world Daedalus. I have given the
Chimera the very tools they needed for victory.

It is almost dawn as I write this. In a few hours I will wake him. And with him will lie
my fate as well. Whether I will be the monster who brought about the fall of man - or
the saint who gave humanity the seed of deliverance. All that now lies with Nathan Hale.

In my tent there is a small hand-painted wooden box my mother gave me when I was a
child. In that box are four vials of morphine. It will be enough. I will not wait to be
judged. May you all one day forgive me.

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