– by Creetalor

—- Beginning Transmission of—–

>>Public Diary of Markus Onan<<

Logged: 112.05.19 Yoma IV

Saisieni Suuolo,

I remember the first days of the massive expansion well , we heard an Announcements from Concord how planets where having there recourses plundered by thousands upon thousands of ships. The images and video’s reaching us were being broadcast into every corner of New Eden, they where awe inspiring, huge and small ships alike where all orbiting planets like a swarm locust ready to devour everything in their paths.
We sat at home watching everything coming in on our make shift Communications system that we had built after coming to Yoma IV trying to start a new life in one of the more inhospitable planets.
We heard the horror storys of huge structures being shot at the planets surface from space, it made no difference on whom or what they landed on.
Large amounts of troops came down to secure the structures and build further ones such as
huge machines that dug into the landscape, sifting through rubble to find valuable resources, and sending them through transport links to huge warehouses.Their where further stories of people, innocent civilians being executed or just killed ruthlessly for not adhering to the governing body’s request for them to relocate.
We watched the heavens day and night seeing nothing but the stars and moons and our pink star going through the same cycle as it always has done, we thought we had been spared the horror and the torments that we had heard so much about.

Logged 112.05.20 Yoma IV

I had just woken up when I heard a small wizzing at first I thought it was one of the computers overheating again but slowly I came to senses and noticed it was more of a hovering sound something I have not heard for some time , it was the sound of a drone. I woke up moving outside of our small container home seeing something small moving around across the landscape, I took the gun I had brought with me when we settled here in our container home.Through the sight I looked at it all of a sudden it turned the lens looking at me and I felt the like something was looking through me, and giving me the feeling of being so small and insignificant.
All of a sudden it shot straight up into space and disappeared.After what seemed a eternity a ship popped up probably having uncloaked and releasing a huge structure dropping to were the machine had been.The impact shock the ground and as the star started to rise on the horizon the ship became more clear and I saw small drones shooting around the structure moving stuff here and there.I took my gun and started moving towards the structure expecting the worst.
As I reached the structure I felt my blood rushing out of my face and my knee’s shaking.
The drones seemed to finish their work they all retreated through a small doorway in the structure.I was just about to step forward again when I heard a voice. Soft and gentle voice coming from the dark doorway “Saisieni ” as a tall women stepped out of the doorway with long hair and a optical implant over her right eye, she was visibly Achuran .I stepped forward and greeted informally this unknown woman asking for her name she told me its Talor. “Saisieni Talor-Haani” I repeated formally after this she came closer to me walking down the ramp followed by 2 armed men which appeared out of the dark doorway without a sound.

She spoke loud and clear explaining that was part of a large Corporation and was going to start Extracting the minerals under this site and nicely asked me to leave.I explained I had nothing but my family here and I can not leave ,but I said with her here means more will come to the planet, my voice trembled at the thought of more coming and the reports of the brutality flashed through my head.I looked up at her and she returned with a small smile, I think she felt my fear and my worries , but I think she did not smile out of satisfaction of my misery it was a reassuring smile, a smile telling me she understood and feels for me like I thought someone Immortal never could.She told me to head home and remain there and told me not to worry overnight she had some plans to make and would return shortly.

Logged: 112.05.21 Yoma IV

It was close to the middle of the night when I heard a knocking on the steel door, I opened and she was standing in front of me. I welcomed her into my humble home and told my wife to get some water. She came in saying she really needs to start her expansion on the planet but a smirk in her face, reassured me not to panic. She had come to me with a offer ,a offer that would change my small life forever. She gave me to opportunity to either take my family and move on the station and get housing and work, or to take my family with her to the stars ,going where no person has ever settled before and expanding her reach to the untapped planets maybe waiting for more….. Wormhole Space

Logged: 112.05.22 Space Yoma System

I am now headed to a place I have never even dreamed of going or ever reaching and being able to step and build a life in a region dangerous but most fruitful …. a new beginning of a shattered life on a old planet left behind and not ending unwillingly for thanks to Benevolence.

Logging out for now Markus Onan

– by Chiana Moro

i

Things are changing in our world. We, the Amarr of Insmother, who have lived peacefully in our small part of space, are seeing change. Change unheard of since… we know not. This is a total violation of our sovereignty, our land, and our ways of life. We are accustomed to the constant fights going on in space above our heads. We have heard that the capsuleers of our skies use to make up their own laws and punishments. They have their own ways of intrigue and conspiracies, much like we have ours. But we don’t meddle in the ways of the immortal, as they have not meddled in the ways of our people. Now this is changing. People are talking about resistance. I know not how this will end –
but I know how it began.

ii

Some time ago, according to uncle Sani it was only a fortnight, we woke to heavy flashing in the skies above, we woke to find downed space craft in our fields, or what remained of them. We gathered in the fields to view these flying contraption. Some vaguely recognizable as Amarr designs, as stylish all our constructions and vehicles, even in the state of destruction. Some of the exotic, haphazard design of our recently freed slaves. And others utterly alien and unknown, looking more like balls of metal of unknown propulsion.

All these were scattered richly around the fields of ours, for miles and miles and miles the wrecks and pieces of craft and undetonated missiles went on. Our fathers said something about a war in the skies, their grandfathers remembered stories of the Jovian war. Everyone felt unease. This had not been heard of in our generation.

iii

Arbjan and I ventured into the fields to salvage the electronics of the space craft to keep in store, for use on the days our own machines break down. Arbjan is one of my best friends and of the newly freed, and while privileged to have been given a higher education and a good position in society, still slightly superstitious. As the Minmatar of his race tend to be, no matter how much education they get. We of the Amarr have seen
through all this and found the only path – I will talk no more of this. Let me continue with the beginning.

Around midmorning on the second or third day, we saw, in the distance a rectangular object, with a glossy center piece, surrounded by black metal.As we approached we couldn’t fail to note that is stood on the border to an area we both hold sacred as it is a field dedicated to the great Saint Junip, the protector of planets. It has been graced with copious amounts of the matter that goes into our luxury products, like our personal adaption sleeping spaces (I can not divulge the information of exactly what this material is – as it known only to a few). As we approached the object is sprang to life showing a text of alien design as Arbjan was getting closer to it. When I got up close to Arbjan it also brought forth – as I guess – the same text in Amarr. Looking around we noticed several similar objects sprinkled about a vast area. Regardless of how amazingly advanced this contraption must be to recognize the cultural makeup of ourselves, what caught our attention was the message itself.

*** Attention sentient beings of Planet II in the Z182-R solar system, IV-LWJ region! ***

This, and the surrounding areas within the area delimited by the information buoys are being claimed by, and as the private property of, Celestial Ventures of the ACME alliance, according to the registered contract pII-i67-1. All occupation within the claimed area is strictly forbidden and venturing into the claimed area is from this time not   recommended and solely on the risk of the sentient beings of Planet II. All contact regarding this venture should be channeled through the Celestial Ventures representative at CV-1 Z182-R. *** ***

Needless to say, we were taken aback at such insolence. To confirm our suspicions we continued on to the next “information buoy” only to discover the same behaviour and message in this contraption. The words, the unimaginable arrogance, the violation of our hereditary claim to our own planet! I think you, dear reader of these words, can imagine the total confusion, anger and bitterness in our discussions as Arbjan and I, as fast as we were able, returned to our homes to report the bizarre incident.

iv

If we were upset and in turmoil, it was nothing of what the rest of our community was when we reported our findings at the Conference of the Elders. A long heated discussion ensued, after which the youngsters thought the only just cause of action was to destroy “the stupid signs”, disregard idiocy imposed upon a sovereign people and deal with any consequences that might follow as it (may) happen. The elders on the other hand thought that we should be bring the matter to the Celestial Venture representative mention in the information. Me, I thought this was an utterly foolish idea, of the old school of democratic thinking, as the tone and inference of the message already delivered clearly indicated that the outcome of such a trip could only be one. Disappointment.

Nevertheless, the Elders, in their infinite wisdom, decided to give the “Celestial Venture representative” a chance to explain what was going on and why they were claiming parts of our planets for their own without previous contact or negotiations on their part. A  voice coms communication with the representative was arranged. It, however, came to the generally unsatisfactory conclusion that they thought it was “their sovereign
space and they could do with it as they pleased”. All logic reasoning (among that that sovereign space didn’t reasonably include already inhabited planets) failed to bring common sense to their minds.

v

Then came the machines.

vi

Shortly after the unsuccessful outcome of the contacts with the representative we started to see a higher activity of space travel around the field. Various bits of housing and machinery were somehow brought to the location Celestial Ventures had claimed for theirown. Exactly how this was achieved remains a  point of discussion amongst those who saw, or thought they saw, or like to make others think they saw how it was done.
Suggestions range from teleportation, to magic, to people actually landing space craft on the ground, bringing stuff out and physically building the things on the site. The latter seems most likely.

And then there were machines …

It should be said that defeatist creeps among us, at the point of the buildings going up, thought that maybe it was not too bad after all. That “Maybe there will be jobs for our young to be had.”. Any such naïve notions were quickly squashed when it was abundantly clear that the only workers on the site would be remote controlled machines and drones. No “sentient beings” would be invited to gain anything from the venture on
our land. So, to add insult to the theft of our lands, only Celestial Ventures would be involved in the robbing of our resources.

vii

The installation grew, the activity increased and noise and pollution reigned supreme across the neighbouring several kilometers from the site. Our peaceful life were shattered due to the arrogant invasion of the immortals. Finally even the most naive amongst the elders lost patience and called an assembly to decide what should be done about the unbearable situation. After many hours and equally many hotly debated points of
opinion, it was decided that we were to try to grab their attention at their base station. A delegation of people were to travel to their industrial “outpost” and demand a meeting with someone from Celestial Ventures. Yet another voice communication was attempted before the delegation leaving our home planet.

CV made it clear that they didn’t really want us out there in the “their” space at all, that nothing we did could change their plans, but if we really must visit to travel them, they would secure a spot in their industrial alliance – the ACME alliance – for us for the visit. Considering the implications of this (a tacit acceptance of the planet side venture) we respectfully declined to – even temporarily – take a seat in theirgroup of likeminded. We continued to assemble a ship, someone had an old Hoarder laying about – I don’t remember who, and it really doesn’t matter as the pilot will not be missing it, selected the delegation and off they went. They never returned.

We do not know exactly what happened but the offer of a temporary seat in the alliance did, and this is my guess, include free and safe passage to their outpost and back. By declining this, we – as we have now understand their laws – aligned ourselves with the enemies of Celestial Ventures and the entire alliance. And as Concord do not uphold the universal security of space around our planet for some unknown reason or other – the
ACME alliance is free to deal with their enemies however they wish.

viii

And the planet venture site grew with more machines, more buildings and more drones.

ix

And the bitterness towards Celestial Ventures and the ACME alliance grew. Not once did they regret the loss of our delegation. Not even did they compensate the families of the missing. Not once did they show any trace of humanity, but kept referring to their space traveling policy, and the fact that we declined a  safe passage to the outpost, a policy which, as it seems, all corporations of their amoral ilk  share. Not once did they, in fact, show any respect towards, or care about other beings than themselves. We had failed to grasp the enormity of their amoral rules – and it was our loss, and the first of our lessons.

The bitterness turned to hatred. The hatred turned into action. And a a willingness to contribute in any way possible in a campaign against the invaders. We are assembling the funds for military training, and   we are assembling the funds to contract mercenaries willing to evict the intruders from our home planet. We will strike back where it will hurt the filthy bastards the most.

I know not how this will end – but I have told of how  it began. .

– by Sajarus

The elders are the keepers of knowledge. They told us stories when we were little, tell us stories now. They tell us stories they heard from their elders, and from their elders’ elders. They told us of the Original World, of Matar. They speak of lush fields, clear water, bright sky. They speak of wealth and prosperity. They speak of all this, until the First Invasion came. During the First Invasion, the sky was darkened by demons, and rained Minmatar blood. The waters turned brown and murky; the fields made fallow by death and pestilence. This was the Day of Darkness.

The Elders told us that these Sky Demons were known as Amarrians. The Amarrians enslaved us, made us work their mines, their fields. The Amarrians made us their oxen, made us work until we died. They tried to break us, but the elders kept us strong. The elders told storied of Matar, kept us free in mind and spirit. Eventually we threw out the Amarrians, reclaimed our honor as a people. We showed that the Minmatar were strong, that we would not be oppressed. That we would be free.

Now, the elders speak of the Second Invasion. They tell of our world, of home. They tell of green grass, blue water, white clouds. They tell of peace and serenity. They speak of new evil. The sky is darkened again, not with demons, but with gods. Immortal beings who command ships that stretch further than you can see. The sky rains, not with the blood of the Matari, but living, breathing men and women. The sky rains Matari. They come to steal, say the elders. They come to kill the planet. To destroy its beauty. They come with their machines, their factories, their guns. They come for our lives, say the elders. To make us as we were under the Amarrians.

We have never doubted the elders. Now, though, we know that they are wrong. The sky gods come not to enslave, but to seek our help. They come for our supplies, our resources. The sky gods want us to work, to produce implements of war to be used against the Amarrians, those that enslaved us, made us beasts of toil. They want us to work, and we answer the call. The work is hard. It is dangerous. We know, however, that it is nothing compared to those on the front line against Amarr. Our toil in the mines and the factories ensures their success, and for that, we work.

The elders have told us many things, but now we tell them. They tell us to admire the planet, to fight those traitors that would take the beauty from us. To revolt against the betrayers who would enslave their fellow Matari. We know that they are wrong, and we tell them. We tell them that, should we ever hope to defeat the true enslavers, the planet must reveal its treasures. The sky gods must come, we must work. We tell them to look beyond the planet, to look at the sky. We are not citizens of our planet, we tell them. We are citizens of The Minmatar Republic. We tell them that this is what must happen to defeat the enemy they have told stories about, but they do not listen. So we ignore them now, let them hold to their beliefs. They will be drowned by the truth, and then we will tell them. We will tell them that it is our duty as Matari.

We will tell them, and they will listen.

– by Ethan Bellator

It was a simple contract, believe it or not. We were contracted by some capsuleer’s handler to go live on and work at some planet on the edges of Empire space. No real problems, we figured. My family and I, me being the eldest son of a single mother now managing three kids, were ready to make a better living. This job managed to pay nicely, at least my part did. I was around twenty, struggling from bar-to-bar playing a little song now and then to get a few credits to bring to Mom so we could make it through another week. This contract promised us something that we’d never been promised before, and we leaped on it.

ISK. Cold, hard, ISK.

The money of the demigods.

We took that ISK, which added up to way more than enough to pay for a nice home and to get me to a school that would get me a job. Hell, with this kind of paycheck maybe becoming a pod-pilot wasn’t such a bad idea?

Well, now that things have been so warm and fuzzy, I’ve decided I’ll stay. Why would I follow my silly ambitions?

No.

I’m lying through my teeth right now.

It isn’t that I don’t want to leave, it’s that we can’t. The planet we live in resides in a hot-bed of tension and brutality. Every day, our supply-lines run the risk of getting slaughtered in a cross-fire. At night, the fighting is pretty and has even let me get lucky with a very cute young lady, but deceptively so. The ‘shooting stars’ over the sky are nothing like the things I grew up dreaming of seeing.

People are fighting over this planet, desperately badgering one another in whatever form they can imagine. Why? I don’t know. There have been so many colonies shot up around here, the planet’s been sucked dry so fast. These pod-pilots are voracious: it turns out the pilot who signed us to jump down here was the first of thousands to jump on an opportunity of free ISK. Some pretty large names are dropping colonies on the most remote planets in the darkest holes of space. I’ve heard rumors that the big-wigs are throwing around colonies like crazy. Almost like every colony they get ready to drop down is a fresh syringe just filled with a new dose of narcotics, and every planet is another vein in which to inject it; ISK is the ‘high of highs.’

What I don’t understand, though, is that the pilots have no presence here. Asides from making it so that we need to make drills on how to react should one of those massive capital ships not burn up in the atmosphere somehow and crash into the surface, there is nothing here tying them to us. The only reason we didn’t up and leave after we had banked enough ISK to live forever in the upper echelon of the middle-class, was because the last group that tried to leave never left the gravity well. A stray hybrid round slammed into the side of the dropship they were flying, and it fell back to this damned rock as ash and fire.

These pod-pilots will be the death of the common man, it seems. I see the atrocities they create first-hand now. Sure, I understand the whole concept of capitalism, and I understand why they do these things. However, that doesn’t mean I have to agree with them. But, a twenty-something kid’s gotta eat too, and I need to feed my siblings and make sure my mom doesn’t die of stress. And there’s been talk of some kind of weird super-soldier being made. I don’t get the whole lot of it, but these guys are supposed to be the best of the best. The pod-pilots are going to use those to control a planet, like a private army, but more capable. I like this idea, actually.

They told me, growing up, I’d never get anywhere with my life.

Well, now I’m mining on some desolate rock. I got off the rock I was born on, and due to hearing of the news with these new super-soldiers, I have learned how to fire a weapon with confidence that it’s going to hit the target. Also, I am a strong and capable kid. I can build, but without any effort I can also destroy. Screw being an immortal: one shouldn’t fear a man who laughs at Death as they avoid him. No, they should avoid a man who does so without fear. One who laughs at Death without remorse, and without a guaranteed way to avoid him.

A man who laughs at death, knowing that he is still vulnerable. I am a man who does just that, as the days drag on. It’s come to the point where I know I’ll die on this rock. So, what I’m going to do, is I’m going to sign up to be this super-soldier. I’ll fight for my family, so that they can work and keep their paycheck and live with some comfort. But, I don’t plan on living for too long, as I’ve already given up and been broken. No boot camp necessary. I am ready to die, and sure as Hell able to kill another man.

Screw the immortals in the skies that throw lightning at each other.

I am what all men should fear: a mortal not fearful of death.

– by Perseus Kallistratos

Five Years Ago…

Victor sat on the living room floor in front of the holovid player. As he did every evening since he had turned 8 several years before, he watched the Interstellar News with rapt attention. The special report had him mesmerized, as a Concord representative detailed the new regulations concerning capsuleer engagement on worlds across New Eden.

“Grandpa, what does this mean?” he asked.

His Grandfather rested his hand gently on Victor’s head and looked over from his chair. Victor looked back at his Grandfather. His wide, bright blue eyes darted back and forth between his Grandfather’s eyes, not missing the scars on his Grandfather’s left cheek.

“Son, everything is going to change”.

His Grandfather’s stories of combat from forgotten wars were never far from his mind. His own father had died during the recent Gallenti/Caldari Empyrean War. Living with his grandfather and mother was trying at times; his mother was never home, the two jobs she held were barely enough to keep food on the table and pay for the rent that kept creeping upwards. Victor attended school at a run down building a few kilometers away, his free time spent reading anything he could get his hands on. It was never enough, and he craved more.

Victor would become entranced when reading about ships, battles, anything that involved the Immortal Capsuleers. He kept his thoughts to himself; his father had had the same visions of immortality when he joined the Caldari Navy. Those ended suddenly when the Drake Class vessel he was on went down with all hands (minus the Capsuleer of course) near Luminaire. Any talk of Capsuleers upset his mother greatly; his Grandfather had already made his position on interstellar conflict clear with frequent smacks to Victor’s head.

Victor looked back at the holovid while images of stellar battles danced in his imagination. His bright mind was already planning his future, which would get him off the backwater planet he currently called home

Three Years Ago

The past two years had gone by so quickly for Victor. It wasn’t long after that night in his living room that the Immortals came to his planet. His Grandfather had been right, everything changed for Victor the evening the sky thundered and the ground shook. A deep core mining facility set up near his small town. Every day a transport would come and take the minerals to the headquarters on the other side of the continent. Young Victor would sit on a hillside and watch as the transport came and went like clockwork. His Grandfather would have given him the back of his hand if he had known, but his health had slowly deteriorated and he was bed ridden more often than not. The mining facility had little impact on his hometown; the few workers were from off world and the facility was quiet with the exception of the daily transport run.

The routine all changed for Victor, as fate (or was it destiny?) had other plans for him. Victor was running the trail his feet had worn in after months of use that led to his lookout. He was running late today, his teacher had kept him after for not paying attention in class. In his mind, Victor had no reason to pay attention to the coursework. It was all too easy, and daydreams of huge engagements preoccupied his thoughts. Regions like Pure Blind, Tribute, and Deklein played across his mind.

As he neared his spot he could hear the thundering in the distance as the transport began its descent. He was going to miss the landing! His heart pounded as he frantically scrambled to get into position. The thundering slowly turned to a roar. It was so close! Victor turned his gaze upwards to see the giant ship as it neared. He didn’t see the fallen tree that crossed his small trail, entranced by the flashing lights of the transport instead. His right foot caught the tree squarely, and it sent him flying. His body stumbled and fell, his momentum carrying him off the path and down the hill. He tumbled, out of control, as various branches, rocks and bushes cut and bruised his body. He finally came to rest, yards from the fence around the facility. His vision faded in and out, his body burning and aching. He tried to move, but instead he screamed as the pain in his back sent white hot shards of pain through his body. The throbbing in his ears grew louder and louder, in time with the pain pulsating through his back. As he lay immobilized, his vision slowly turned red. The last thing he heard was voices and pounding footsteps before his vision turned black.

Victor woke up to an unfamiliar setting. He laid on a bed in a sterile gray room. The wall to his left was covered with instruements and monitors. The bed to his right was empty except for his clothing, which was tattered and splotched with blood. He was wearing a grey and black jumpsuit that was a little large for him, and made of an unfamiliar fabric.

Victor sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

“Son, you are lucky to be alive” an unfamiliar voice boomed from the doorway. Startled, Victor looked up to see two men glide into the room. One wore the same jumpsuit he did, and had calloused hands and grey hair. The other wore a black outfit that seemed to mold to his body, and had a piercing gaze that bored right into Victor.

“You’re back was broken and you were bleeding something awful, but our medical bots were able to fix ya up good as new,” said the grey haired man. He offered a hand to Victor, helping him to his feet.

“Names Ray, I run this mining site. This hear is Thorgon, he runs the transport ship,” offered Ray. Victor’s eyes darted from Ray to Thorgon, who only offered a short nod.

“Mind telling me what brings you out this direction?” asked Ray.

“I-I-I-I…” stammered Victor. “I watch the ships come and go” he finally managed the words.

Ray let out a deep chuckle, and Thorgon’s face curled, ever so slightly, into a smile.

“So you like the ships, eh?” boomed Ray. Victor nodded his head.

“Well you should be more careful running along them cliffs. Next time you may not be so lucky.” Ray motioned towards the door. “Lets get you home before your folks get worried”.

Victor cautiously walked into the hall with Ray close behind. The hallway was walled with plexiglass, offering a spectacular view outside. The transport vessel was even larger than he imagined, bots below scurrying hither and thither with canisters and crates. From the countless days of watching from afar he could tell the transport was about to leave.

“Would you like a ride?” said a deep voice from behind him. Victor quickly turned to see Thorgon looking down at him.

“A r-r-ride?” Victor responded, hesitation evident in his voice.

“Yes. I make the run to our command and control facility in less than an hour, from there you can see many more ships. I can bring you back later this evening in a shuttle,” Thorgon continued.

Victors eyes grew wide with realization. “Yes!!” he almost shouted.

“Follow me then” said Thorgon. Victor followed him through the facility to the crosswalk that led to the transport. He couldn’t help but notice the metallic gleam from the back of  Thorgons head. He had seen pictures, movies and read numerous books about the pattern he now saw. The mark of a Capsuleer! Once inside, Thorgon escorted him to an obervation room, with chairs and a massive obervation window.

“From here you should have a good view,” Thorgon commented. “I have to control the ship from elsewhere, but I think you’ll be fine.” Victor nodded, and Thorgon left the room. Victor turned his attention to the fantastic view laid out before him.

Within a few minutes the ship thrummed as engines fired up. Slowly the ship lifted off the ground, the facility growing smaller. As forward momentum took over, the transport moved over the small mountain peaks Victor had played on all his life. He could even pick out the small spot he had watched from, so far below. His town flashed by as the transport picked up speed, chasing the setting sun westward. As it had done two years before, the world for Victor changed once again. Even the smack his Grandfather was sure to give him once he got home couldn’t change destiny.

The Present…

Victor’s face pressed against the plexiglass as the Merlin class frigate entered the atmosphere of home… another run, another 10,000 ISK in his pocket. He was getting good at everything spaceships, but inside he was never quite satisfied. The spaceport of Kiskonen appeared on the horizon and grew closer, lights glowing in the dusk.

A memory of the past surfaced in his mind. The memory was that of the first night he saw the spaceport on his home planet of Kiskonen, thanks to Thorgon. It made the daily transport run boring in comparison. He had been amazed at all the different vessels there, coming and going. But now the spaceport seemed so small and insignificant.

After hundreds of visits around his world, Thorgon was transferred to the Border Zone to take command of a military vessel. It was then that Victor started taking trips on ships operating between various planets in his system. His mother was too busy too notice, his grandfather was completely immobile. Victor watched, learned and took odd jobs on various ships. Every once and awhile Victor would get a message from Thorgon, but they were few and far between. His skills grew at amazing speeds as he soaked up all the knowledge he could. His eyes never strayed far from the stars, even whilst among them.

Shortly after turning seventeen, Victor was disembarking a small frigate on Kiskonen when a hard looking man in a nondescript military uniform approached him. His eyes were a dull blue, his face an emotionless mask. The setting sun cast a shadow over his face.

“Whats your name, boy?” the man asked in a gravelly voice.

“Victor, sir.” Victor responded, staring straight at the man. Years of life experience had drained away the timidness that he once had.

“My name is Major Lawrence. I was told I could find you here by a Capsuleer named Thorgon. I’ve been working with him for the past year. He recommended you as a candidate.”

“A candidate for what?” Victor inquired.

“To roam the the stars as a Capsuleer. Should you pass testing, you will bypass normal training and be placed under my command for Special Operations…” Lawrence paused for a moment before continuing

.

“Are you interested?”

Victors heart skipped a beat as his mind raced.

“Yes sir.”

“Good. Sort yourself and meet me in one hour,” Major Lawrence pointed across the tarmac to a vessel Victor immediately recognized as a Falcon Class Recon “in front of the my ship. Don’t be late.”

Victor nodded his understanding and the Major crisply turned and headed towards his ship. Victor felt like he was dreaming as he ran to his small storage locker in the spaceport hub. He emptied the contents into his duffel bag, which didn’t take long. He stopped on his way out at a comms unit, and left a short message to deliver his farewells for his Grandfather and Mother. He left them with a simple message detailing his absense for an unknown period of time. All was well, he told them, and would be in touch when he could.

Without further delay he raced through the spaceport to the proper terminal and walked out onto the spaceport tarmac. The sun had almost set now, and he raced through the various ships to the Falcon. As if on cue, a boarding ramp dropped as he approached. At the top of the ramp was the silhouette of the Major, waiting for him. Victor marched up the ramp into the Falcon, the ramp closing behind him.

He followed the Major to the command center of the Falcon. The command crew worked silently as they passed. Victor took a seat to the side out of the way, taking it all in. After a minute he looked over at the Major, who had been watching Victor.

“You can wait here,” Major Lawrence said. “The crewmembers will get you what you need during our journey.” With that he turned and departed, presumably to take up residence in his Pod.

Within a minute the Falcon came to life, almost silent in its operation. The starport dissapeared below them and the firey orange sky soon gave way to the now familiar blackness of space. The view shimmered as the Falcon’s cloak engaged, and the Recon ship aligned for warp. Victor didn’t look back at his planet; instead his gaze ascended to the stars as the warp drive engaged.

– by anonymous

Our home gone, our colonies destroyed, and our cites were bombed. Their attack came too swift to quickly for us to counter. And like locus they took everything. It will be a day I remember and a day I shall never forget.

My people and I were of Gallente origin and had lived on that world for generations. The sky was in a shade of dark blue with a hint of the most royal purple found not throughout New Eden. Our world was vibrant for it teemed with so much life! The trees were massive and had beautiful white bark. I think back of the times I spent with my little brother climbing to the canopies to pick their orange and red leaves to make the finest tea around. The deerdogs would yelp as we came down and their powerful hooves would gallop us home.

“Ma when will the drink come?”

“It’ll come when it’s ready dear child!” I was bored after coming home from the forest; I was craving the drink my mom would always make. So I turned on the Net and heard the most interesting of news.

“Today we report that Concord has permitted the capsuleers to exploit and control planetary resources. Shshshsh… Several Caldari ships are preparing to enter Gemenia space.”

“Who are the Caldari?” I asked my mom.

“My gods what would they want here?” She responded.

At that same moment the skies began to be littered with box like objects blazing like meteors. The sky turned into and ugly blackish yellow and then something left those boxes. Objects shaped like a common pencil with fire at their ends flew from them and went to different directions. I tuned to one and then it was gone but was quickly followed by a strange cloud. It was orange and shaped like the mushrooms I used to pick under my families house.

“Volcae away! Away!” My mother screamed and grabbed me. She took me and ran to the barn. I never ran so fast and never was so scared. I was scared shitless. Inside our barn was no animal or hay but a large spacecraft. She took me into the shuttle along with my brother and we took off. As I looked down from the shuttle, I saw my forests aflame.

In space a massive engagement was taking place. Our people’s ships though out dated but of many were battling the Caldari. Beams of light like the suns pierced space were everywhere and when they made contact with something, huge gaping holes were left on the sides of our craft. And then we jumped.

I Prince Volace a survivor among just a few hundred thousand is searching. Searching for a place to call home.

– author unknown

The day was bright the wind came from the west sweet with the smell of spring, it was early in the morning and the sun had just made it’s appearance and it would be a lovely day. Wex tilted his head and took a deep breath he smelled other things as well flowers, the damp smell of last nights rain and something else, something he didn’t recognize, being a curious fellow Wex decided to investigate.

First though he must get something to drink, he trotted off to a nearby stream knelt down and cupped his fur backed hands He scooped water and drank thirstily. After a few large gulps he sat looking at his reflection in the water, for a Krezdonian he was thought of as handsome with his large broad nose and almond shaped green eyes he thought to himself perhaps I am. His face was almost entirely covered with thick fur, well kept and trimmed. His fur was brown with light undertones of white which was rare in his tribe and gave him a rather distinguished look he thought. He was also rather tall standing about 4 feet in height making him a sought after mate in his tribe for he would provide strong off spring, he gulped once more from the spring and set off to investigate that strange smell.

The day really was beautiful, it always was after a good rain. Birds chirped happily in the trees small critters ran about on various tasks and Wex pranced along merrily following his well developed nose to adventure and discovery. After a little while the smell became stronger almost pungent and over powering but that wouldn’t stop Wex he was a brave adventurer everyone said so. On he went now heading through thick vegetation and tall trees the strange smell getting stronger all the time. He struggled on though bush and bramble he must be close now and finally the vegetation gave way and he stepped into a clearing and his large eyes went wide with astonishment and awe.

The smell was almost unbearable now and it came from a large structure in the clearing. Wex had never seen anything so large in his entire life it was silvery and had weird tubes coming out from all sides that stabbed themselves into the ground. More tubes ran from the back of the structure and sat above the stream letting a weird black liquid pour into the stream, Wex thought that was where the smell was coming from and he wondered if that new liquid would be good to drink.

No time for that now though he wanted to investigate. Halla back at the village would be so impressed with his discovery that she might even favor him with that kiss he had dreamed of for so long. Not only where the smells intense but the noise that came from the structure was almost deafening so many different noises it was hard to concentrate but on Wex went after all he was an adventurer.

As Wex approached the structure he began to look for an entrance walking along the side merrily, whistling a fine tune full of joy at his discovery he went on. The structure was massive and it took him a good deal of time to find the entrance, a large gaping hole in what he thought was the front of the massive structure, but once he found it there was no stopping him then and in he went.

Inside was like nothing he had ever seen before strange things moved and pumped liquid and made strange gasses into the air. The noise was even greater now and hurt his ears and the smell was also much worse.

Wex was brave though and he forged deeper into this strange place, he went on and on not understanding the strange things he saw but determined to see all he could. He finally came to a small entrance that lead into a large room, he entered it and saw that lined along the walls where strange rectangular things that stood a couple of feet off the floor. He approached one meaning to discover what is was. To Wex’s amazement there was a strange creature sleeping on it, a rather large strange creature. This creature was rather ugly in Wex’s op ion it had eyes to small for it’s face and a tiny nose and to his surprise no hair on its face none, not one bit, it had some on its head but not enough to serve any real purpose.

Wex shuffled his feet in confusion and the creatures eyes fluttered open with sleepiness, it looked straight at Wex and screamed an ear piercing scream that sent Wex to the floor covering his ears for protection. What happened after Wex really didn’t understand. More creatures came all yelling and screaming and pointing strange things at Wex he was so confused.

He had made these creatures angry somehow. Before he knew what was going on he was in a cage and being moved towards a strange bird like creature, well it kind of looked like a bird except it was huge and silvery then he was being loaded into the belly of the bird and he felt himself rising into the air. For the first time in a very long time Wex cried. He really didn’t know what he had done but it must of been really bad and he vowed to himself when he got home no more adventures for Wex.

– by Hitman xXx

When we last left our epic voyage through the void of space leaving our birth homes deep in the Caldari state, the start of the war begin soon after. We found and settle on a plante in 0.0 space deep enough that the Caldari or Amarr empires will not claim us. That what we wanted. This new home was paradise. The capsuleers are a power you cannot control. As they grow in numbers, Concord and the empires will have to give them things. Anything to let them keep fighting each other, and not get greedy enough to turn and outright kill there creators. In truth, all the empires and Concord fear the capsuleers for what they are. So when Concord finally let them control planets they want, to keep them killing each other, the counless trillions that will die so they can feel a bit safer for now. They soon came. Not at first, but the greed of these capsuleers knows no bounds. Not even death they fear. For it’s a way they learn to hate each other a littel more.

They landed large, huge buildings. Then the nightmare came. Ships, so many ships. Like a swam of locust blocking out the sun. Those buildings are yet to start even mining or what ever they’re suppose to do. So why so many ships? Then we see people coming out of those ships. A great deal of them, pack in there like they were proccess meat in a can. But the capsuleers greed sees no bounds. Why buy what you can take for free. At frist they tried to send the slaves after us. They took many of us but they were more like zombies then anything. Then the men with guns came. The soilders of the Mini god of new eden. They came, they saw, they conquered. Soon all of us were taken from our homes.

Now my home, that was going to be my last place for the rest of my life, in this paradise. One that I moved to live out my life away from the wars of the empires became a war zone itself. The mini gods, the capsuleers, fight over this planet so many times. I wish I was back in the Caladri state. I was a slave, a freeman and a slave so many times it makes me want to kill myself. So when it came for my shilft to end and the rest of the slaves and I were tired and wanting to sleep. I grabed my tools and bashed the head of the nearest guard in and took all his weapons, armor and gear. Everyone looked at me. But the only ones that looked in horrer were the guards. Like bees flying from their nest after a bear wanting its honey, all the slaves attacked the guards. Killing and torturing them to death. It only took us less then one hour before this factory was ours. Like a wild fire it spread to all the other subbuildings. Now the slaves numbering in the millions, we will take over the mini gods….. the capsuleers command centor and shut this place down forever.

When I killed that guard, I only wanted that armor to live long enough to kill as many other guards as i could. I only wanted his gear to be supply with ammo to have a stay in the fight. I only wanted that weapon to kill as many of those that guard the capsuleers greed as I can. To turn this into a full revoult was not in my plains. When we enter the command center, we took out many guards and soilders and merc’s. When it came to the main room, the only one left we found the god himself waiting for us with his best…..hired men. “You will kill these men and you will kill me, but trust me the skys will fall with fire and burn the grounds to time ever lasting. No one will know of your act today, no other planet will see or hear of these place.” Then they opened fire on us. We like so many other gave our lives and killed the god before us. Now him and his demons send fire on this planet. I write what happened on this data pad so somone, anyone will know what happened to us, and send it in the deep mines and seal it away.

– by Nukleanis

After five years of working with Gen and his slightly unorthodox methods of security, I still find myself in awe of how such an unhealthy frame can support the polluted mass he calls a body and move it at such pace. Most of the time he’s like a tightly-bound spindle of raw hate unleashed in careful measure for the good of our employers. Those who saw fit to invest in this marshy dump of a planet. Nothing ever fazes him. Not the rain, not the ceaseless expanses of grey that cloak the sky and certainly not the pain and suffering inflicted upon those we have stopped in acts of wrongdoing.

Like the man chained to the metal chair before us.

I don’t know his name, and neither would I care to. No part of me feels pity for him regardless of his crime. No part of my conscience prefers rehabilitation to incarceration, nor clemency in place of torture. It is necessary to inflict agony to meet my monthly targets and I feel no empathy or remorse about what I do. When I’m engrossed in such a task, I become a force of retribution and while I never feel like some champion, I do sometimes allow myself enjoy it.

Not as much as my colleague does, however. I can see him grinning as the sleeve of his dark overcoat cuts through the air, unveiling a tightened fist at the last moment that strikes a temple. Our guest has expended most of his energy shouting and screaming, and so only grunts at the impact. He’s used to this treatment by now. His body must be flooding with secretions and hormones to dull the sensations.

Four sterile, metallic walls enclose us three men inside this cell. There are no two-way mirrors, hidden recording devices or even a tiny window in the door. I suspect that the lack of chairs for officers is a ploy to antagonise us by the higher-ups. To keep us pacing, to build anger and frustration that can be vented upon the miserable scrap of humanity with the luxuries of a chair and a desk in front of him. The dull lighting casts no shadows, just a grey haze offering nowhere to hide.

The person under Gen’s tender ministrations was recently caught planting explosives near a launch pad just outside the city under cover of night. He may have escaped to a safe enough distance to set off the explosives had the capsuleer owning the facility not ordered a launch. The blinding light had cast against the ground, illuminating the heavy rain that soaked our clothes as we waited for signs of movement across the field. The officers and hounds tackled him to the mud without the need for fancy electronics or obtrusive drones.

Gen’s body is more animated than it is during a normal interrogation. He must be overflowing with adrenaline and, God forbid, burning more calories than he should. Something must be motivating him more than his love of his job. I can’t think what it might be, as he doesn’t have any of the normal clichés people use to exploit police officers. He has no loving wife or children awaiting him, nor any real regard for his continued existence in the universe and his apartment is a tangled mess of bottles and fast food packets. So what could possibly push him like this?

“Kel.” The voice resonates in his chest before breaking past his throat a split-second later. “Go to work on this nasty scrote. I need a break.”

I never received what others would call ‘formal training’ on interrogation techniques and I possess no qualifications or certificates for information extraction. I just have experience in the matter and a healthy imagination. As such, my superiors value the results I deliver. I close my eyes and yawn as Gen slams the door behind him. Close my eyes. There’s an idea. If I do that, he’ll have no recourse but to talk. It won’t be as if he could deny such a view.

My fingers grip the underside of the flimsy sheet metal desk and I shove it into the air to allow it to clatter against the wall for effect. I squat on the floor opposite him and flick him a mischievous smile. The cracks in the dried mud across his face have rapidly filled with blood under Gen’s ‘questioning.’ Behind his swollen and battered face his eye tracks my movements. I have his attention. Good.

He must think me inert as I have done little else than watch Gen go about his nine-to-five while leaning against a wall. I produce a small knife from my boot and look him in the eye. The type of approving ‘ooh’ I use when studying a woman’s curves escapes my lips. He doesn’t move. He just keeps looking at me as I saunter over to him and straddle his knees. The knife hovers in the corner of his vision away from a painful looking bruise.

“Would you look at this!” I exclaim. “Such a nasty swelling. Allow me to relieve it for you.”

I’m glad Gen’s not here. He’d stop me on principle. He prefers brute force and strength to the subtlety offered by my tools. I once argued with him that it was man’s ability to manufacture tools that allowed us to take to the stars. He argued back that it was man’s ability and unwavering vision backed by immeasurable strength of warfare that pushed us so far. We never finished the discussion. We were too intoxicated to continue after too long. Gen’s likely resting in the break room right now. Probably staring at the multitude of capsuleer’s installations across the horizon, each one belching black plumes that melt with seamless horror into this world’s sun-shrouding stormy season. Environmentalists care and protest every day on the streets outside. I’m indifferent to it all. It’s not my world, and it never was. It has always belonged to someone else. Since they came, our funding has increased and with it my pay. My pension is guaranteed, so I’m free to spend as much time and money as I can on women and drink.

Maybe that explains Gen today. Maybe he’s getting a pay rise? Maybe he’s striving for employee of the month? Sneaky devil. I’ll see that doesn’t happen.

He’s only expecting a tiny cut. He’s probably expecting it to be painful as it nicks a sensitive spot. I spare him this perception as I squeeze the wound around his right eye. He grunts and struggles a little, but the point of the blade makes progress toward the bone unrestricted.

Blood wells from the cut excitedly. The swelling diminishes. “There.” I say. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

He spits at me. A tooth bounces off the blood he has stained my shirt with and clicks raggedly across the floor. I look at the mess and then back at him. He doesn’t show much triumph, although my being in such close proximity to him has given him a little vigour.

I grab his head and force the blood free from his face. I can feel the mound squishing and flattening underneath my thumb as he shakes and curses. “That’s going to cost you, friend.” I say. The knife carefully glides toward him. Edging into the line of sight. The shrunken obstruction and the opening of the eye in fear aids me as I land the tip just between the eyeball and the socket. His vision locks on me as he dares not look away. “Now tell me, who do you work for?”

He says nothing, so I play a little wildcard. I move my face bare millimetres in front of his so he can smell my breath. “Prosthetics are expensive these days.” Again, he is not forthcoming with information. My little reminder that his blindness would be temporary has hardened his resolve. He thinks that he’ll lose his sight only for a few days, but my plan is quite the opposite. I’d like my turn to last a little while I use his own senses against him.

The edge drives deeper into the cavity, worming between eye and skull with tiny crunching noises. Expectedly, he screams and jolts in his seat and I sigh in frustration. “Keep still. The more you move the worse it’ll be.” He stops and breathes in exaggerated puffs, bubbling blood on his lips. His eyelid flits and dances away from my tool, revealing cuts along where it has previously made contact. I can see the little organ straining. Tiny veins swell. A knot of resistance marks my stopping point. He is as primed as he ever will be.

It creaks a little and the screaming begins anew. I move my face away from his in expectation. With a little more force than I expect, I liberate it. My dear guest is frozen in his seat and I can hear him muttering. I think he’s praying. His brain must be struggling to process the difference in the positions of his eyes. Without his ability to stop looking wherever his eye may point, my real work can commence.

Yes, my work. I admitted to being a detective and protecting assets, but I never once mentioned upholding any law. Private security is my domain. The torment I visit upon our suspects is limited only by my employers’ ability to keep the real police at bay and their immeasurable wealth.

They’re quite coercive when they want to be. As am I.

– by Nukleanis

I’d first enquired about Nisha’s services a little over a year ago. A defensively humourous audio conversation stolen during a free moment at the office had led to me standing nervously at her front door one spring afternoon. The sun had emerged from the ceaseless expanses of cloud a little early that year and the foliage had responded eagerly. Deep green leaves draped gently over the ancient walls of her home, hiding the cracks in the brickwork from the cursory glances cast by those walking along the quiet street. My shoes crunched over the gravel on my way to her door, itself a serious marriage of deep red wood and black iron.

As I stood before the door I considered walking away and chalking the experience up to a foolish curiosity about things that were far too intricate for me to fully understand and best reserved to the domains of television or the fabulously wealthy. I decided, however, that this would not effect the change in thinking that I needed. Without intervention my plight would continue and my own personal downfall, invisible to the rest of the world, would avalanche unabated.

I didn’t wait long for her answer after knocking. Her fluid motions still belied her guarded demeanour. Until now I was a distant voice asking for acceptance from someone with more qualifications than I could ever dream of. She must have had her reservations about letting me into her home without knowing fully what brought me here or what I hoped to achieve.

“You must be Henser?” Her voice sounded understanding in a clinical kind of way. A little more rugged than our previous conversation, perhaps.

“Afraid so.”

And so our relationship progressed. I would sit in her office for fifty minutes per week telling her all about my problems, hopes and fears. I couldn’t ascribe noble motives to her due to my own twisted perspective on life, but still she persevered in her efforts – showing the endless patience and the utter lack of compassion demanded of her in her line of employment. Mostly I managed to speak about the relevant topics, but some weeks I rambled about larger issues that, while worrying, had little bearing on my issues.

Which brings us neatly, dear reader, to this week’s session.

Comfortable and interested. That’s how I would describe my mood as I sat opposite her, as her profession and ability to wed scripture and psychology always interested me. Faintly yellow beams of sunlight pierced the blinds, gently illuminating the dancing specks of dust as they orbited and danced across the room in a quantum ballet. Quantum ballet. I specifically remembered that during the session before I began writing this down for you, dear reader. I thought it sounded good at the time.

Every week she looks at me expectantly and raises her shoulders a little and gives this little false smile as if to coax it all to the surface. I picked up on that and told her that I knew her smile was fake and how to differentiate between that and the genuine article. I told her that I’d seen a lot of false smiles recently, as though the people had not had good reason to enjoy the coming summer. Predictably, she asked me what I thought was the reason behind my perceived downturn in the mood of the people. “Capsuleers,” I said.

“What do you think of them?” She asked, exploring the topic further. I immediately thought that this would be an easy session for her, but continued in an unnoticed peak of narcissism.

I told her that I didn’t understand them at all, and how could we? Themselves an obscene ménage a trois, (a Gallente word. Must stop using those) of humanity, technology and immortality. I told her that I considered them so far removed from the rest of creation that they were little more than a background hum to the average person immersed in their own life and struggling to make a decent wage. Nisha listened patiently as I ranted about people locked in a near-crippled state inside egg-shaped pods, and that it was heresy in the purest form to consider someone motionless and invaded by tubes and data cables as a God. She nodded as I reaffirmed my belief in God and his divine tapestry.

“You seem to have very definite ideas,” she said. “So why worry about it?”

From there I speculated for a good five minutes. Truly, if one had the power to spread their nerves to the extremities of a starship’s hull, then of what possible use would we be to them other than fodder for their machines? If one had the power to carve an asteroid the size of a town into tiny fragments to feed their insatiable lust for war, then why bother with the soggy marshes that covered out little world? They had enough money, I said. What about us?

“Do you ever think the rich and the powerful are ever satisfied by what they have?” She asked. I told her a firm no but said that surely such people retained higher reasoning abilities.

“Greed is a very basic instinct. No different from the instincts that have landed you in your current predicament.”

I countered that I was able to use logic and reason to find a solution to my problem, to which she informed me that capsuleers didn’t regard the eternal acquisition of wealth, material possessions and power as problems to be solved in a traditional sense, only that their problems stemmed from a belief that they never thought they had enough.

Suitably challenged, I followed that if this was the case, the recent change in CONCORD legislation would become a much worse fate than previously realised. Our world would not be reinforced with the promise of employment and infrastructure, but simply held hostage to a greed as grave as any sin, perpetrated by people who would take our resources and flitter them away on pointless wars. At least from our perspective as backwards peons. We would never see the gleaming behemoths they planned to create with our raw materials, save for a brief flash of light as they were destroyed before our very eyes on the evening news. If these people were Gods to the other races, I told her, we were making intolerable sacrifices to them.

I then wondered aloud where it would stop. Capsuleers owning land and property on our worlds would only satisfy them to a point. Could they then own entire continents and wage war with one another across the entirety of the planet? At least with our war with the Minmatar we have a purpose. We try and enlighten those wayward souls rather than work and fight and die for something laughably referred to as ‘corporate loyalty.’ What wounds would our planet bear as they mined every ore, uprooted every tree and polluted every sea only to cast those very riches at one another in vehicles and weapons that would destroy the cities and roads we had worked so hard to create?

Nisha’s nominal expression cracked slightly. “You sound as though you’re describing life in The State.” The words caught in her throat slightly.

My point exactly, but not the Amarrian way. We as a people are lucky to be united under God and move forward in faith. The State, however distasteful, works for the Caldari and their misguided motives yet still they do so slowly with shareholders and a government that only recently has begun to scrutinise their activities. Such power in the hands of people who hold no value over life (jumping as they do from clone to clone) would spell doom for those of us helplessly looking at the stars.

“I pray to God.” I said. “That I have the strength to do something about it.”