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A Prayer Before Battle
From: Johanes Beaumonte
Sent: 2014.03.25 19:23
To: Societas Imperialis Sceptri Coronaeque,
As part of my training for the clergy, I was asked to prepare some simple prayers to perspire our brave crews. I thought I'd share!
***A Spaceman's Prayer***
God, spare us this day and allow us to live to perform our Duty.
Please, God, don't let any of the airlocks blow out, causing us to be sucked screaming soundlessly into the cold void of space.
Please, God, ensure that our capacitator remains charged, so that our environmental systems, old as they are, may continue to operate through another day of labor and sustain our current lives, short as they may likely be.
Please, God, let the warp engines continue to function a few more days, even though the Engineer says they are shot, so that they won't terminally overload and prematurely blow us all into Your arms (well, not me, I am a capsuleer! but I digress); we love you but we want to see our families again some day.
Please, God, keep our guns from overloading and exploding, rendering the interior of our ship a hellish pyre, bringing death to us instead of our enemies and foes,
Please, God, if you could maybe see clear to keeping the afterburners on-line? If we don't have them, we can't make our acceleration back home, and we'll drift in space, a derelict, until the systems begin to fail and the power runs out and the air gets foul and we all start eating each other .
Please, God, I noticed we warp through planets and ships all the time. Please don't let us slam into any celestial bodies, our souls to drift helplessly through the deeps of space as our families wonder what disaster has overtaken us and left us, God, bereft and alone, among the stars.
Please, God, let us keep Local. If not, when disaster strikes, we won't be able to send out a distress call that will be picked up. We don't want to die, God, drifting through the empty blackness of the New Eden, our bodies shriveled by vacuum, fighting like rabid furriers, God, over the compartments that still have air.
Amarr Victor, Amen.
((with apologies to David Weber and John Ringo's "A Ship Named Francis"))
A Prayer Before Battle
From: Johanes Beaumonte
Sent: 2014.03.25 19:23
To: Societas Imperialis Sceptri Coronaeque,
As part of my training for the clergy, I was asked to prepare some simple prayers to perspire our brave crews. I thought I'd share!
***A Spaceman's Prayer***
God, spare us this day and allow us to live to perform our Duty.
Please, God, don't let any of the airlocks blow out, causing us to be sucked screaming soundlessly into the cold void of space.
Please, God, ensure that our capacitator remains charged, so that our environmental systems, old as they are, may continue to operate through another day of labor and sustain our current lives, short as they may likely be.
Please, God, let the warp engines continue to function a few more days, even though the Engineer says they are shot, so that they won't terminally overload and prematurely blow us all into Your arms (well, not me, I am a capsuleer! but I digress); we love you but we want to see our families again some day.
Please, God, keep our guns from overloading and exploding, rendering the interior of our ship a hellish pyre, bringing death to us instead of our enemies and foes,
Please, God, if you could maybe see clear to keeping the afterburners on-line? If we don't have them, we can't make our acceleration back home, and we'll drift in space, a derelict, until the systems begin to fail and the power runs out and the air gets foul and we all start eating each other .
Please, God, I noticed we warp through planets and ships all the time. Please don't let us slam into any celestial bodies, our souls to drift helplessly through the deeps of space as our families wonder what disaster has overtaken us and left us, God, bereft and alone, among the stars.
Please, God, let us keep Local. If not, when disaster strikes, we won't be able to send out a distress call that will be picked up. We don't want to die, God, drifting through the empty blackness of the New Eden, our bodies shriveled by vacuum, fighting like rabid furriers, God, over the compartments that still have air.
Amarr Victor, Amen.
((with apologies to David Weber and John Ringo's "A Ship Named Francis"))
