Civilizations Concerned – Minervan State

The “Voice of the Oppressed” is arguably one of the most important works of political science within the Orion. Though little science and strategy are seen inside of it, with the book being little more than a manifesto for the author’s ideas, the book stays banned anywhere but in the Pan-Sentient Confederation. Even there, it is ever only critically held for its anti-human stance is considered damaging to the fragile ‘equality’ of the strange civilization. The author of the work has remained anonymous. But the time when it was discovered, coupled with the radicalism in its pages, suggests that the author might have been one of the earliest partisans. The language used seems to contradict that. The author definitely had a deeper understanding of humanity, the “Hegemony” and conditions of its kin in the outer rim than even his descendants do today.

Further investigations seem to pin the origins of the work close to a former mining colony near to Uberta-V, somewhere in the neutral zone. But the importance of the author is minute in comparisson to the grand schisms left by the work itself. Though one among many, whole inssurections and revolutions could trace their origins back to this work, regardless of their success rate or their policies afterwards.

Some scientists and investigators in the field of Xenology might question why a book might have this much impact. But my investigation has led me to the conclusion that it did not start out as such. The book, as we know it, only came as a consquence of books being a common media in human society. I have seen or documented at least a thousand instances of its ‘translation’ into more easily accessible information for the multitude of sentient species in this unruly part of space.

Take for example Xenos too primitive to write. They will understand it spoken to them just fine, that’s how most of them got it anyway. Work camps did not exactly offer the best in terms of education. Complications arise when we get to those who do not, or will not understand it when it spoken directly to them. In my time on the world of Fenryr I saw this exact work in a theatrical play. The race native to the planet evolved opposite to us. Whereas humanity had to develop for thousands of years to be able to understand abstraction, this strange bunch had evolved to only understand abstractions and metaphors. Well, sorry, not understand but they have such a preference that they refuse to understand ‘dull’ information out of sheer spite. Another similar encounter, though I was not personally present, happened when psychically sensitive beastmen were discussing the work. Since none of them spoke a common language the Witch of the group showed images and made everyone feel the emotions of the work as if they were the ones painfully etching every word into it.

Sorry. I might’ve gotten on a tangent over there. But the point is that even the direct origins of the work were not written with ink on paper. They were a voice recording. Still a familiar form of human media but not quite as elegant as the book. That only came about when a bunch of humanoid partisans realised that human culture and technology was so prolific that they could use human media as a way to transmit theit message. Voice recordings were an option but no alien actually liked to listen to the monotone voice of the translators they were forced to wear. So instead, a few geniuses who could still read had it translated in every single written language that existed before human takeover. They could not read English, no. But these aliens could definitely understand the chicken scratches they called languages.

As I mentioned before, the manifesto is rather short for its horrific effects. I will attach the full work to my document here. But on the chances of spurring the interest of whoever is reading this into picking up the full work and dissecting it themselves, I will transcribe the most significant exerpt of the work here. It is not only my opinion, but that of Xenos I spoke to, as well, during my trip in the Continuation League.

The Hate I have for you

“What is man? A miserable being. A lone, sad and pathetic creature that needs us to do everything for them. They struggled to come up with an answer to this question themselves. The answer was in plain sight for them to see. A disgusting being with no right to exist. And so in that rage they turned their frustrations on other beings. When other beings on their homeworld ran out, they turned on each other.

When the on the verge of sparing us all our fates and wiping themselves out, a voice finally rang in their heads and the beasts laid down their weapons.
When they took to the stars their old disgusting urges came back. They took to us to satisfy their disgust. They killed and enslaved our people to their perversions. We were their playthings. We were made for them to do as they wish.

We all grew up in camps or in shackled cities. While they preached humanity and goodness to one another they kicked us down and murdered us for amusement. To those at the top we were lower than machines. We were cheaper than droids. To those at the bottom, who guarded the camps and hearded us into labor, we were the perfect vessels for their downpour.
We already talked in detail about their fear. We saw their terror gripped faces when more of us rose up. We reveled in their screams and drank their blood when we were finally free. Free only to realise our struggle had barely begun. But that first taste of freedom created euphoria like no other.

None of us had ever known joy. But that night, when we tore up the guards and placed their heads on fenceposts, we had our first taste of that addictive euphoria.

But that joy was overshadowed by a new shadow. Something that our past, present and future must never let go. It is of course hatred I am talking about.

We hate man. We hate them all. We hate every last one of them. We hated they labor they put us through and the horrible conditions in which we were raised. We hate what we have to do almost as much as we love the liberation that will come from it. We hate the war, the stress of battle, the rumbling of engines, the sleeplessness and the hopelessness of it all.

But most of all, most surprising to you, must be that more than we hate man, what it put us through and what we must do because of it, we hate something more. We hate one thing above all others. We hate you.

We hate the appeaser of man. We hate those who would not sacrifice even the little we do not know we have for the betterment of our collective future. Cowards who would rather live their life in slavery than to die. We hate those monsters who lived in the camps, in the same mysery as we lived and who let go of their anger and hatred. We hate those defeatists for spreading their dangerous ideals and serving man’s evil.

Those in the cities are worse. They settle for the little mercy man gave them as if it were the best thing in the world. The devourer gave them a handful of scraps, and they happily took the scraps as if nothing was ever better. They see family and friends eaten by the predator and they weep, but equally if not more voices are overjoyed at the bits and pieces they are given in return. They care not for the cruel fate of their own kin and those worse than them. They see the devourer with his hoard of food and like animals they flock to it and they bow their heads in obedience. They never even stop to question why man has so many riches. They are blind to the mountains and the rivers of blood that feed the foundries of man’s greed.
It is for that reason, among others, that we hate them. After killing the leash-holders they still vehemently refused to join our caused. They were emboldened in their own beliefs. They were slaves to peaceful servitude. And to make matters worse they were above us. So we destroyed them along with their human masters.

The appeaser of man is worse than man itself.”

Though to you, dear reader, this might all seem as deranged ramblings [and it is], to some of the creatures we have encountered this work carries a profound and deeper meaning. To my eyes, translated back into human language, it seems as nothing more than a creature’s hatred transformed into words. I guess to them, to these ingrates this work was made for, it remains a holy text.

+++Praise to the Emperor, revered and true. For if His will ever reaches this region of the void then humanity will not have to even look at such disgusting texts with anything but laughter at the childish mistakes of the past.+++

Minervan State wrote:

In 2437, Theodore Mirwelt, a prominent academic and considered a pioneer of the New Humanist movement, wrote the book An Ordered Cosmos: Humanity’s Destiny. A short book, only 90 pages long, would influence the course of Human policy after the Interstellar Wars and be considered the main thesis of the Terran Hegemony and continues to be one of the most controversial pieces of literature, with the book being considered Schedule IV by the Pan-Sentient Coalition, meaning only academics who have held a Ph.D. in the appropriate field for at least fifteen years can access the book fully uncensored, and is currently banned in several Vizierate planets, in the Continuation League it has a divisive legacy with some calling the book an “enduring vision for Humanity.” At the same time, others see him as one of the architects of the slave system that dominated Human space outside the core. For Mirwelt himself, the book would be his undoing, as 20 years later, he would be caught in a bombing by a terrorist group while promoting his latest book, Dawn of the Pax Humanas, and would die four days later on the planet Vonia.
The circumstances of his death would make him a martyr in Humanist propaganda whose legacy survives as the namesake for the Mirwelt Foundation, whose mission is to raise literacy among humans living in neutral space and to “Promote human culture and excellence.” The book itself was translated into English, Spanish, Chinese, Russian, and many other languages and was required reading material for the majority of the Human worlds before the collapse. It should also be acknowledged that the language used in the book when referring to Non-Humans is now considered speciesist, but for the sake of accuracy, the term Xeno will be used in direct quotations.

The book is divided evenly into three, with each chapter having thirty pages. The first chapter is called “Humanity as it Was,” which goes over a brief summary of archaic age events such as the World Wars, The Cold War, Globalization, and to the time the book was written in the 24th Century. It goes over the mistakes and the curse of “Interhuman squabbles” and how it has set back Humanity. Human conflict is the main topic of the chapter, and he goes over and dissects what causes it and its effects. He seems to abhor the aspects of the Archaic age when it came to Human conflict and how it paradoxically drove technological advancement, as seen in his analysis of the 20th century and when he comes to the beginnings of the space race, here is where he finds his rhetoric that sets the tone for the rest of the book and callbacks to the 19th-century frontier thesis by Frederick Jackson Turner and the manifest destiny idea espoused at the same time as well. “People had referred to space as the final frontier, and now the hopes of the past must become today’s realities,” he says as he compares the situations with the current landscape of his time. He makes the case that humans must expand and goes so far as to say, “…what goal for which expansion is justified. Expansion is the means and the ends.”
In the second chapter, titled “The Brass Tacks.” Mirwelt builds upon historical parallels with the ideological foundation, to him, space is a frontier, much like how the Americans had to conquer and settle and should be considered as such.

He says, “We should hold no reservations or remorse about necessity” when it comes to the question of sentient aliens and Human colonization. He dismisses the possible criticisms and does not hold back about what his vision entails with statements such as “I will acknowledge that some planets will be settled and others conquered,” and can be summarized with the ending words of the second chapter, “Humanity must devour the Orion, lest it we be consumed by unending blackness of its abyss.” He then lays out his idea for a grand society for Humanity, which does include non-humans if only due to the logistical difficulties of complete liquidation, he sets up a hierarchy of non-humans based on body type, with more Humanoid species getting more favorable treatment.
It should also be noted that Mirwelt employs rhetoric of an almost religious nature throughout the book. The idea that it is Humanity’s purpose in life to spread among the stars regardless if it is at the detriment of other races also gets the ideological bearings here. The triumph of Humanity in the Interstellar Wars for Mirwelt is but the opening to grander conquests.

This chapter in the book are devoted to suggestions for when and how these conquests will be done and the implementation of pro-natalist policies to increase the human population. He proposes that the annexed worlds gained during the Interstellar Wars should be used as a template for how colonial administration should be run. The hierarchy comes into play as worlds in the outer rim with humanoid populations that fall easily or surrender without a fight should be spared from most of the liquidation policy and be allowed limited autonomy but under Human supervision, however, the planets that he calls the “Mother Worlds” are to be cleansed of all non-humans, either by means of extermination or deportation to the outer rim. He also suggests that anything useful the non-humans have should be appropriated when it comes to technologically advanced civilizations. This chapter is one of the least important as Mirwelt, at the beginning, admits he is not an expert in the military aspect of carrying out his vision of Human domination and is the least ideologically charged chapter of the book. Many of the plans of conquests Mirwelt devises are limited in scope, impractical, and would not serve as any inspiration to the actual invasions

The most maligned chapter is the third and final chapter, titled “A Divine Right,” where Mirwelt holds Humanity in high regard, and the pinnacle of all sentient life and the basis from which all life should be compared to. He says, “Humanity is the center, the core. Humanity is the personification of civilization in all of its aspects” and laments that infighting has led to humans neglecting their duty to reign over the Orion Arm as one united civilization, unbound from the “savagery of nations, the feebleness of fiefdoms, madness of monarchs.” Aside from the posturing that fills the chapter, it has been criticized by both Human and Non-Human critics as bordering on “incoherence and parody” for its excessive praises of Humanity, and is often the point of debate when appraising the book in a modern context due to the seemingly rabid nature of the chapter.

The Lycus Cluster wrote:

Ever since Pahali was young Aibek had always been there helping her, he was a person many in the settlement had respected for the longest times. Yet just shy of a decade ago, Pahili began to feel a connection to the world around her, an indescribable bond to everyone and everything. Everyone but Aibek either dismissed her, or laughed at her, Aibek seemed to not only understand her feelings but also no more far beyond it. He showed her that he also held this connection and how this connection can allow one to change the world around them.

A small tower, that is what she chose to imagine, thinking of the bricks and materials piecing together like a puzzle, trying to think of the weight of the stones and what it would take to lift them. She placed her hand out, imagining the feel of the rocks, the weight, what was needed to balance them. One by one she stacked them. She opened her eyes, looking towards Aibek. His face was stern and her eyes focused on the small pile of rocks Pahali had assembled. He shook his head…he lifted his hand and seemingly with no effort he knocked her tower down, with care or patience he exclaimed “Again!”

Pahali obeyed and she pictured the tower once more and built her rocks again. Just like before Aibek showed signs of disapproval and he knocked over the tower and demanded she do it again.

Amidst the ruins of the city, the two would spend hours practising the telekinetic powers the two shared. At least that is what Pahali was led to believe at first, yet it seemed clear that Aibek was far more experienced and proud in his ability, as a person of older age he had the luxury of time to reinforce what he knew. The sun moved above their head, the two relocated themselves constantly to avoid the glaring brightness of the sun that seared and scorched the ruins of the planet. Over and over Pahali rebuilt her tower and over and over it was knocked down, Aibek said little to her and ignored her questions. Yet despite this, he often found it peaceful and enjoyed the slower moments of her time with Aibek

More time passed as once Pahali rebuilt her tower, rather than strike it down Aibek sighed deeply. “You lack conviction...The spark of life…You seem far too calm, come, that is enough for today.” Aibek shot up without warning and began to walk away, Pahali was left little time to gather her things as she tried to catch up with Aibek. Everytime she would move around a corner Aibek had seemed to move further and further away, she began to run after him ignoring the blazing heat of the planet, the growing sweat on her brow. She could see Aibek standing beyond a doorway bathed in light, and with all her might she ran until-

“Stop!”

Pahali froze in place, no, she was forced to stay still. As her eyes adjusted to the light she could see Aibek with his hand extended looking at her with an emotionless expression. She tried to shift and move but force stopping her was akin to someone holding onto her legs and pressing down on her shoulders. She tried to speak but found herself unable to open her mouth. It did not take long for her to feel a pain from the growing heat of the sun, her brow pulsated and ached in the light, again she tried to move…failing to make any more progress. Aibek was using his powers to hold her in place

More time passed as the heat became increasingly unbearable, unable to move or speak she tried to think as to why Aibek was doing this, her mind raced and rushed. She didn't know what to do, what to think, she felt fear. Beside Aibek she could see a large boulder, she did not know if it was large enough to perhaps give her shades. She tried to reach out with her hand, but still it was frozen. She tried to reach and reach, and eventually she could see the boulder shake slightly, she put all her focus and effort on the boulder. It was the heaviest thing she tried to lift using her ability, yet given the discomfort she was in from the sun, the weight of the boulder seemed like nothing in comparison. She tried and tried until finally she felt lift off the ground completely, with her last ounce of energy she raised the boulder above her head, providing much needed shade and comfort, she smiled and felt an odd sense of joy as the coolness of the shade grew. Without warning she fell forward into the sand, barely being able to put her hands out in time to brace her fall.

Before her stood Aibek, yet he did not bear the stern face as he did before. Instead a slight smirk.

“You are still lifting the boulder.” he said in an proud tone

With that she let it drop to the ground as it made a deep thud, in the shade and free from the white of the boulder she cherished the feeling of rest that overcame her. The once course and sand provided a brief moment of respite. A few minutes passed as Pahali was able to pull herself up and lean against a rock, Aibek kneeled down in front of her, he closed his eyes and extracted a small rock from the sand and made it orbit around him. She felt anger and spite growing in her.

“Passion is a want…A want of glory, a want of love, a want of life. Pahali…I pushed you today to make you realise your passion, your want, the want to live. Had you failed to realise that passion you would continue to burn under the sun of this decrepit world until like the civilisation that once inhabited it, you would become but the send on which others tread.”

Aibek stated in a calm tone.

He stared at her with his golden eyes, burning like a sun.

“Pahali, through that passion you have learnt the first true lesson, the lesson that passion grants you strength. The strength to save yourself from a situation where others would accept their weakness, and thus their defeat.”. His tone seemed more condescending than before, less akin to a match of equals and more like a student and teacher…No a master and a lesser.

Pahali scoured at him

Aibek laughed softly. “Hatred is a passion also, if you cannot accept the passion of life then accept the passion of hate instead. As long as you reject Peace. Peace is a tool of the weak who learn to forgive their enemies and forget the necessity of strength. The very ruins of this planet prove peace is a falsehood. Had the planet rejected peace, they could have been prepared for the storms and disasters that followed…Yet through the falsehood of peace the great Warlord Second Storm, plundered and pillaged leaving nothing for the planet, with the expectation of an eternal peace…Regardless of what you think of me, I shall make you strong regardless the means, I shall make it so you never have to fear a situation like that again. I do not want your forgiveness, nor for you to forget this moment. The moment I, the person you trusted the most, made you suffer, and made you embrace the passion of life and anger.”. His smirk had grown the corrupted smile and his tone seemed prophetic in nature.

Pahali could feel a tug inside her heart, the only person she thought she could look to had betrayed her…If Aibek was to do so, what would stop those who never trusted or believed her. She would try…no will get stronger to ensure this would not happen again, she would use Aibek to divulge knowledge until he had no else to offer.

It was the only way to be sure her weakness would not be exploited again.

Helghan Royal Records Commission, transcripted by Senior Scribe Ollis under authority of the imperial courts of Helgha.
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Crisis of the soul

“Gentlemen, we are convened here today to discuss the ever growing radicalization of religious groups within the empire.” Grand Governor of Pyrrhus announced, taking his seat once again so Helghan C could lead the meeting. Emperor Helghan slowly stood from his centuries old thrown and tapped his ornate cane on the granite floor, “I know none of us want to be here, so I’ll keep it short. My loyal leaders of this mighty empire, I fear for the very soul of our emporium. For within its heart, a cancer is spreading faster than we can cut it from the flesh.” Murmurs filled the grand hall of the imperial palace and echoed into its high ceilings.

Helghan tapped his ornate wooden cane once more and the noise ceased immediately. He brought up his cane and calmly explained, “Take this cane for a moment, if you would? Hand carved by my father’s farther, a truly priceless family relic.” The aging emperor suddenly snapped the cane over his leg and tossed the two pieces onto the spotless table they sat around. “That cane had been rotting from the inside for over two years, yet I refused to accept that fact. I ignored it time and time again until one day I saw the rot on its polished sides start to show. So what did I do you may ask? I waited too long for any repairs to be done, too long for a chance to restore the cane to its former glory… and here we are now, debating the matters of radicalism while thousands die each day due to the terrorist attacks.” The emperor took a hard look at each man sitting at his round table and sighed, taking a seat while he enjoyed the looks of shock facing him.

A lanky man with a face covered in artificial alterations such as a golden nose rose to his feet and spoke, “I agree with our emperor, us of the traders union see more of the empire in a year than most of you see in a life time. It has become ever noticeable that religious fervor is spreading like wildfire, and frankly it’s radicalization seems to be spreading with it.” The group of men went into another murmuring bout and a chubby man of short stature stood to interject, “We of the banking union don’t see why these matters are even up for discussion, surely a meeting of this importance wasn’t called for this?”

The seated members quieted their responses of rebukes and agreements when an elderly man stood, his dark red robes and their white trimmings betraying him as a Mechanicus member. He took a short breath and almost wheezed out, “The matter of religion has always been of importance within the empire, even from the very first days of its existence. While few religions are officially recognized, there are no laws directly against its worship. I myself remember a time when my own religion was openly shamed in this very hall, even with the importance my kind held to the imperials every day life.” The old man pulled back his hood to reveal his bald head, the wires and tubes protruding from its rear almost looking like artificial hair, “As a holy leader of the Mechanicum, I must insist we allow these fringe groups to openly worship. If they cause trouble, we simply eliminate their followers and purge the ring leaders.”

As the Mechanicus Arch Bishop slowly retook his seat, Field Marshall Erich von Manstein stood. “While I see the Arch Bishops point, he clearly lacks the… finesse of imperial political talks. Neverless, I must say what I think on the matter. I’ve seen these religious cults up close and personal, they say their beliefs are peaceful- yet openly aid the terrorist cells within our borders. I’m not sure if it’s even possible at this point, but I would suggest we purge this cancer at once.” Manstien said flatly to the group of powerful men. The group erupted into even louder debates, the aging solider clearly striking a sensitive nerve.
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The Emperor slammed his ringed fist on his thrones armrest and shot a fiery gaze across the men, each one’s sentences quickly trailing off. He calmly ordered, “This is a meeting of great importance, stop your bickering like old wives to their husbands and show your fellow leaders their due respect! Our discussion here today will change the lives of billions, all I ask is you act like it.” The group of leaders nodded almost in unison and a few shy apologies escaped tight lips. The scribe in the corner making the only audible noise with the clicking of his fingers on his data computers keys.

Field Marshall Manstein cleared his throat and continued, “I understand that some of us here disagree with my stance but take my heeding, these groups do not worship a peaceful god. They relish in the suffering of others, they pray through blood sacrifice, and they target the downtrodden for their recruitment campaigns. I’ve seen first hand the truly diabolical crimes these cults commit, smelled the stench of their gore filled monasteries, felt the cold skin of sacrificed virgins. These people, if you could call them that, fight for war and death, not peace.” With that the group of men did not erupt into chaos, but instead they fell into shocked silence. Each face showed the dark truth that forced its way into their minds, the men finally accepting the reality of the situation.

Emperor Helghan stroked his white beard and sighed, “I must agree with the Field Marshal, these fringe groups grow stronger everyday- yet we allow them to openly assemble. Today they simply support terrorist cells in several sectors, tomorrow they announce their “holy” crusade against the emporium and its people. Given the hard facts and having a deep understanding of the developing situation, I vote we dissolve this cult before it becomes unstoppable. You know the drill gentlemen, cast your ballots and decide our empires future.”
The men around the wooden table whispered to each other and cast side glances at different groups, many openly starting staring contests. After thirty minutes of near constant talking, the first to stand was the golden nosed man belonging to the traders union. He straightened his petty coat and stated, “The trading union votes yes for the eradication of these cults.” The chubby man of the banking union stood and stated through flushed cheeks, “The banking union must agree, given the facts of the situation. We vote yes on this trying matter, thank you.”

With that the various unions, guilds, military leaders, and politicians all stood in agreement. The only member of the council to not stand was the Arch Bishop, accepting he would be outvoted. The Emperor raised his glass of wine and calmly exclaimed, “With that the meeting is ended, all votes have been cast and recorded in official records. My friends, my countrymen, today we change history; let time tell if we did the right thing. Too Helgha, to the empire, to our future!”
The group of men raised their glasses, even the Mechanicus arch bishop raising his with a heavily augmented metal hand.

The United Eridani Military Authority wrote:

Two decks of cards sat apart from one another, held by men gazing with paranoid scrutiny at one another - their deck hands unflinching as they attempted to anticipate the actions of the other. Like predators watching their prey, the two men inspected each other for any sign of weakness, any sign of uncertainty before playing their hand. The first fell. A flush. The other let out a booming laugh as he quickly followed up with his own deck - full f*cking house. Rage began emanating from the other man as he trembled in his seat, his blood boiling and his thoughts clouded in pure unrestrained loathing. He raised his fist to the air and just as he was about to flip the table and swing his blunt knuckles at the smirking asshole in front of him.

"Fools. Must I always halt your puerile, subhuman outbursts? You're a man, act like one."

From the direction of the door, another voice had joined the 'party', and this one carried a weight to it that could command armies at its behest. The masculine figure standing in the door was adorned in a red and black greatcoat worn over a standard UN-issue emergency vacuum suit, painted over with a jagged, crimson skull on the left side of the chest - he stood tall and proud, a shining example of the finest in ship-borne "privateering". On closer inspection he was freakish in proportions, standing at around nearly two-hundred and ten centimetres with a physical build that almost looked like that of the stereotypical alien from old Terran media. The pirate's facial features were angular and chiselled, a scar covered over his left eye socket, and contained within that socket was an ocular replacement glowing blood red - no doubt a Model 12 OcuPro implant manufactured by now-defunct corporation Occultek. Only that implant could possibly look so uncannily menacing... And so terrifyingly authoritative with its dictatorial commanding aura.

Both men turned to face the doorway, the anger quickly subsided to deference, and the aggressor lowered his fists. "Wipe that smile off your smug face, dipsh*t." It was clear that this person was not amused at the moronic games of his subordinates; the smile was sapped away by the very words spoken. Now with the tensions having subsided, the duo was quick to reply with the age old admission of recognition; "aye sir".

"Good. Ship's nearly full - cost me a pretty penny to get her back up though. The rest of the crew needs the both of you to finish loading the missile tubes. Get to it." And with that, the antithetical gamblers were turned into diligent compadres - scurrying off to their stations like good sailors.

Outside the vessel, a series of pipes and connected tubes finished feeding hydrogen into the primary fuel tank, pumping in the final drops that the captain could afford to buy. Hydrogen wasn't too expensive though, and gas mining stations made sure of that fact - Aegir was a fairly bustling hive of extraction activities, and had been for hundreds of years. And if that failed, there was always plenty of ice and water to go around. The weapons though, now those were the problem. Aside from the fact that purchasing a single (reliable) missile was already extortionate, the upgraded search and track systems needed to aim and fire them were nearly impossible to acquire outside of official channels, and those replacements on offer were dismal in their quality. Either way, the good captain had secured his load. Twenty missiles and a functioning track radar from a scrapped old corvette, acquired with no questions from Indigo Station.

This wasn't going to be a normal heist, after all. The captain had his eyes on an Eridani ColFed supply convoy - the big one. The biggest god-damn strike in his life. His old 'fake freighter' disguise wouldn't work here, he wouldn't be able to board one of those convoys by gliding up close to it and blasting the engines with autocannons. He needed one hell of an arsenal if he was going to bypass the point-defences alone.

His ship was a hodge-podge of various different parts he'd put together over his years as a pirate. From the original Vonia Voidworks FC-2610 model freighter he'd acquired in an early raid in his career, he'd put together an extensive amount of modifications including a full sensor suite, L-M82 missile tubes, upgraded high-newton thrusters, a more powerful power-plant that forced him to remove half the cargo space, a new veil-drive, and god knows how many personal comfort modifications. It was a particularly finnicky vessel to operate - especially with all the power outages - but it could handle thousands of tonnes of cargo and was worth its weight in adamantium.

As he made his way towards his improvised Combat Information Centre at the nucleus of the craft, the sound of great plugs separating from his ship reverberated throughout his hull; this was no doubt due to the release of the refuelling ports. It seemed as though the time was now. From his command seat at his holotable, he deftly opened up a camera feed of every location aboard his ship before fitting his finger over the speaker button and pressing down.

"My beloved crew. Me good ol'e mayties. And you, poor bastards that have somehow found their way onto my ship. I speak to you now to confirm that the rumours are indeed true; we shall be cutting the entrails from the great beast and feasting on its bounties - seizing the cornucopia of interplanetary commerce from the fat and the complacent. I wish to bri-" He paused, his own power fantasy constantly flowing into his deranged if not ambitious stream of consciousness, providing him with one million alternatives to his thought up sentence. "I WILL instil upon you courage and confidence, and WE shall reap the rewards of our cunning and our volition!"

His face lit up into a sinister smile, the other members of his 'deck crew' growing increasingly concerned at their captain's unrepentant manifesto and vociferous, nearly wild demeanour. "Those who stand in the way of our glories and triumphs shall be smitten from the face of this galaxy, consigned to the dustbin of human history as our successes render them impotent!" A wave of panic was now rushing over the faces of nearly everyone aboard the ship save for the captain and certain hulking figures seen on his camera system. "It seems as though many of you may be impotent yourselves. Disappointing. I thought we were all comrades aboard this ship." The feed showed as one of the guards grabbed a ragged looking sailor and shoved him into an airlock, the wave of panic on his face now spewing forth into an unending tirade of slurs and pleas as the airlock broke open, the tortured face of the exasperated man swelling as his eyes became bloodshot and strained. His physical motion stopped not too long afterwards.

Those other sailors aboard the ship now had upon them a look of total defeat, their submission to the delusional 'Pirate Lord' now finalized as the mere gaze of his loyalists was now seen as though it were as lethal as a bullet.

"Those of you who are my comrades, those of you who are intuitive and intelligent enough to KNOW when the time to seize the gifts of the stars strikes. I welcome you as friends, I welcome you as victors." One final pause. The captain reconstituted himself as he prepared to end his speech with a new proclamation. "As victors you may think that we would indulge as Alexander and the Macedonians. This is myopic. We shall dine in Olympus! We shall swim through gold as though we were the Gods! Know that our place in Elysium is guaranteed for our great success awaits!"

This man was Captain Tarsus Ares, and the system would come to fear his almighty Argonaut - and covet his incalculable riches. But of course, behind the bold claims he knew he'd need to pull it off first.

Eridani Colonial Fleet Logistics Freighter Buchephalus | En route to Epsilon Eridani b (Aegir), 3 AU from Epsilon Eridani

The captain's unending boredom was no surprise to anyone aboard the ship. It had been completely clear sailing for the last few years and it looked as though it would be the exact same situation now - nothing but spinning around on a swivel-chair in an unappealing metal room aboard an even bigger metal coffin. A terrible job, in all consideration, but unfortunately the only good paying jobs you could get from the back-end of the system were in cargo. She'd once been a prospective officer for the Eridani Colonial Fleet, but instead was relegated to a space-bound desk job aboard an ancient freighter delivering supplies to ECF bases in the middle of nowhere. She cursed those who used their military position to sideline her family every day, but nothing ever came of those curses.

Before her was a digital cataloguing device, a simple computer system designed to allow logbook inputs and calculate ship mass equations but very little else; no doubt to prevent the user from cluttering it with unnecessary applications or allow unauthorized security breaches onto an ECF-installed system. If she wanted to actually do something else, she'd need to fetch her old holobook from the shelf, and quite frankly she was even bored of that. She was tempted to just go to sleep at this point, her head slumping down on her desk as her eyes closed - wishing she was anywhere but here.

An alarm went off aboard the ship as the order "GENERAL QUARTERS, GENERAL QUARTERS" emanated over the intercom, dashing her hopes of a short rest but yet filling her with a sense of renewed vigour.

Her door slid open, a young deck crewman rushed through the doorway and in a frenzied panic, began hurriedly speaking. "Captain ma'am, there's a fu- there's a situation on the bridge. An unknown vessel is closing along our flight plan!" At first she was just as scared as the other guy, but then she realized that this was her chance to make a name for herself - to show the fleet that she was the captain that could stay resolute in the face of danger. She would get reassigned, or she would die trying. "Return to the bridge, sailor. Tell the commander that I'm on my way down." The universal sailor's reply soon followed. "Aye ma'am."

She hadn't really ever thought that pirates would even consider attacking ships this far from the usual trade-lanes, let alone those belonging to the ECF. It was also strange that there were any pirates at all (if these were indeed pirates) - UEMA usually found and destroyed their hide-outs pre-emptively before any attacks could even happen. As she ran towards the bridge, which lay just a few metres from her own quarters, a series of bursts from the point-defence grid rattled the hull, automated weapons systems had already begun tracking and firing upon a series of incoming missiles - and they were fast. Too fast for anything pirates ever slapped together from spare fusion drives or god-forbid, chemical thrusters.

"Ma'am, we're being fired upon by an unknown vessel - we've hailed them but there's been no response fro-" One of the bridge crew yelled out as an incoming broadcast alert appeared on the holodesk, the freighter's captain quickly accepting the transmission from this unknown assailant. A screen crackled to life above the holodesk in the bridge as the scarred visage of the pirate appeared on the monitor, his blood-red eye appearing to pierce the psyche of everyone unfortunate enough to be watching the ill-fated broadcast. "I am Captain Ares - and you. You are prey, nothing but fat pigs made ready for their slaughter." The sharp grin on his face quickly turned into an elated, unsettling smile - razorlike in its appearance and almost animalistic. "You are but the first of my victims. Ran will know fear - Ran will know me."

The broadcast cut out as the 'Captain Ares' began his uncontrollable cackling, as though some kind of satire or caricature comic book character straight out of the Terran 1960s. The retort was brief. "What a sorry sight." The captain of the freighter was about to order that the freighter close into range of the pirate vessel and slag it with high-explosive twenty-five milimetre rounds before her ship shook with tremendous force, throwing her and her executive officer onto the cold floor of the bridge. Her thoughts raced around her head as she tried to comprehend how pirates could acquire missiles with that much explosive power and the capability of breaking through a top-line PD grid. She quickly pounced back up to her holotable, seething anger at this contemptable goon now palpable. "Damage report!"

The ship's holodeck lit up in red, showing a total shutdown of the main engine systems, damage to the reactor housing, substantial damage to the point defence radar, and hull breaches across the mid-decks of the ship. A breath of relief expelled itself from her lungs as she saw that no crew had been killed in the attack before yet another quake turned out the lights.

When the lights returned, they were dimmed and red - no doubt a sign that emergency power had kicked in. The holotable was entirely unresponsive as she looked down at her chest. Blood - blood everywhere. Her name tag barely legible, only the name 'Cassandra' visible beneath the soaking crimson fluids. She'd been impaled through the shoulderblades by a rod of metal, knocked out from one of the support structures on the side of the bridge. Executive Officer Commander Jacobs lay dead on the floor, his body splayed out and broken by the force of being thrown into the roof and back down again. Cassandra heard cutting coming from the other side of the bridge bulkheads as she drew her pistol. As the only survivor of the attack on the bridge, it was her duty to make sure she went out fighting.

The bulkheads burst open as suited men and women quickly rushed through the gap - and like lemmings, they fell. Cassandra fired round after round into the horde of pirates, the clicking of her trigger precipitated the release of a powerful .50 pistol round that cracked through the visored helmet of the first man, splitting his skull in half as the round's explosive filler detonated in his cranium, coating the room in blood. The other men behind him took shots to the abdomen, spewing bits of viscera and guts across the bridge as Cassandra's hand struggled to keep hold of the pistol with its immense recoil that threatened to launch the pistol out of her hands. It was only when the shots stopped and all that could be heard was clicking that a flashbang sent her reeling for cover before a loud crunch from behind knocked her out cold. Three dead pirates for a freighter filled with enough stock to hire three thousand more. Ares had made his gambit and won.

Or so he thought.

A silent distress call rang out across UEMA and ECF superluminal frequencies back towards the inner system, automatically set off by the ship's AI and running on its own power supply. Invisible to the lower grade sensors and radios of the pirate vessel - this distress call would be the means by which their hubris was to be rewarded with blood.

Through strength, I gain power

Helpless to defend themselves, yet defiant all the same. The story of resistance is one told over and over again in millennia past and for millennia to come. In a galaxy as cold as this one, it's difficult to find the courage to fight against tyranny. Unfortunately for many, they will never live to see freedom in the form that they envision. Such is the struggle to be faithful to a lost cause. Hope inspires bravery. Bravery in turn inspires virtue. Virtue, is a reasonable alternative to tyranny.

This cycle must be stamped out before taking root.

The Sith are many, though few are as infamous as Darth Vânys. A highly esteemed Sith lord of Pureblood stock, his ruthless character is only amplified by his intimidating stature and appearance. Defaced as a child, he is cursed to wear a mask for the rest of his life. Vânys, was tasked with rooting out a rebellion on Uras, which for years has been an outpost for rebel activity. The local governor, sympathetic to their cause attempted to conceal the insurgents, which has exposed her as a traitor. After a day's hunt, Vânys enters the cave system where the insurgents hide... It is a massive complex of winding tunnels and hanger bays.

Vânys depiction: https://imgur.com/RUb1nWm

Through power, I gain victory.

As Darth Vânys makes his way through the labyrinth of tunnels he hones in on a particularly strong pulse of energy, confused at what could possibly be emitting such a force. At the end of the road he encounters the rebel leadership as well as the governor, Nika. They do not notice Vânys at first.

"Nika we must evacuate imme-.. oh no."

Frightened for her life, Nika shouted, "Vânys! Please!"

With the flick of a finger Nika flung from her chair, screaming, and was pulled to the Sith Lord. Vânys grabbed her by the neck and crushed it with his bare hands, dropping her lifeless body to the floor.

Coldly, he replied,

"Your rebellion ends here. Surrender now and I may show mercy."
Only a fool would believe such a claim.

"We will never surrender to the likes of you. All you spit are foul lies and half-truths. The Sith Empire will fall, and we wil-

"Enough of this, you are wasting my time."

Charging at the group, Vânys quickly dispatches them with ease as they try and run from the Sith Lord. For a moment, the room is silent, save for the hum of a lightsaber. Yet, the emanation of energy still remained; Vânys continues investigating. Taking a meditative position, he hones in on the signal, it's behind the... rock wall?

"Of course.", he thought to himself. The wall was false, and the tunnel continues past it. The passage was cleverly hidden, but a button disguised as a pebble unlocks the door mechanism. He hears worried scampering down the hall... it must be more rebels.

Through victory, my chains are broken.

As he explored the passage, he noticed a small alcove off to the side. He approached it, his hand hovering over the hilt of his lightsaber. Suddenly, he heard a sound from within the alcove.

Sternly, Darth Vânys called to whoever was hiding, "Show yourself."

"Please, don't hurt me. I heard what you did to the others."

Could this boy be what was so luminescent, so forceful, as to be felt hundreds of meters away? The Sith Lord shuddered to imagine his potential, was he a challenge, or an opportunity?

"Again. Show yourself, Boy. I will not ask again."

A worried-looking boy stepped out from the shadows, he carried himself well despite being in the presence of a dark being like Vânys. Dressed in modest clothing, it was clear he had no means of defending himself.

"What are you doing here, child? Why were they hiding you?"
Vânys was aware of his latent abilities, but was the boy?

"Th-the Order brought me here."

The Sith understood immediately. Drawing his weapon with the Force and igniting it, its red hue illuminating the room. At that same moment, a Jedi jumped from behind Vânys and attacked. Bearing two sabers, he charged at the Sith Lord. The boy ran to safety behind a box.

Vânys had fought many Jedi before, but this was different, this might've been the force he sensed. Their twin blades flashing through the air in a dazzling display of skill, though Vânys parried each attack with ease, counterattacking with powerful blows of his own. Once he saw an opening, Vânys cut the Jedi's arm, who despite suffering a lost limb, continued to fight. The Sith Lord's movements grew more fluid and deadly, leading the Jedi to stumble and fall. A bright attack of Force lightning followed, electrocuting the Jedi who screamed in agony.

From afar, Vânys heard a squeal, "NO!"

He reveled in the suffering.

In a swift motion, Darth Vânys executed the Jedi, separating his head from his body as it tumbled to the floor.

"NO!" once more.

With unexpected force, Vânys was shot across the room, his mask shattered and revealed his scarred and disfigured visage. Darth Vânys, surprised, cast a gaze upon the child, his bright yellow eyes piercing his very soul.

"Extremely impressive, for a child. I now understand why they fought to defend you."

Tears streamed from the boy's cheeks.

"I admire your spirit. You have potential. A great deal of potential."

"You. You killed him. How could you?", the boy was a weeping mess.

"Come with me, child."

"I won't. I can't."

"It was not a request.", Darth Vânys sent the boy flying across the room, rendering him unconscious. He picks up the boy, carrying him back to his ship.

The Force shall free me.