The Cormorant's call to the Jackal

A letter exchange between Commander Edward ‘MantelGlobalIndustries’ Adams of Nadire, in service to the Gallente Federation, and Supreme Commander Sahara Jackal of Stribog Kybernaut Subclade, loyal to the Triglavian Collective.

2nd June FC238/YC123

Dear Captain Jackal,

As much as I would normally open my letters up with pleasantries, I cannot really bring myself to do so. I will state that I wish this missive finds its way to you as true as one of my 425mm railgun slugs. That I can sincerely believe in.

You asked what would happen if I ‘poked’ you. Well, here I am. I’m not sure if you will take my words below seriously or with the blase manner that I oft see you exhibit in the Summit, but hear my words all the same. Or read. Audio-file on request.

I am a traitor. I departed from my home nation in exile to the Federated Union of Gallente Prime for a fresh start, as have many others before me have in the past and will in the future.

I love this Federation, even with it’s flaws. The comprehensive guarantees on liberty and rights it gives to the member states and it’s people are unparalled across the cluster. It is the bulwark of freedom and justice across New Eden, standing against the designs of the Amarr Empire and the abuses of the Caldari State that would threaten all those that enjoy protection under the Federation’s aegis. It has been very good to me despite my past transgressions as a member of the State Armed Forces.

So when the Triglavian Collective came on the scene and engaged in wholesale slaughter and violation of the principles in the Constitution and the Charter, as well as the consent of those solar systems that have been dragged kicking and screaming into the literal abyss…

I cannot see the Collective, and any that stand willingly in it’s defence or engage in services to further the advancement of Collective interests across New Eden, as anything but criminals and monsters of the worst kind. At every opportunity, they (including you) must be confronted, challenged and combated where possible to prevent even more from following the fates of Vale, Angymonne, Ala, Ignebaener and Archee.

Invariably, as your comrade Remilia knows, this would mean that should we ever meet in person, we will likely give each other the same treatment as we do in space. That is, putting our hands on each other with serious intent.

Know that I am your enemy, as are all those that stand for what the Federation’s ideals and values are. We have not forgotten those that are lost, and we will prosecute this war until the occupied territories in Pochven enjoy free skies once more. With dignity and honour, not savagery and barbarianism.

I hope one day that you will see the error in your ways and realise that you have committed a grave offense against the people of the Federation, and submit to it’s justice. It is never too late to recognise that one is taking the wrong path in life. Take it from someone that was on that path, and took steps to rectify that.

As the spirits are my witness and my ancestors my guide.


Edward Adams
Of the Line of Adams
Federal Caldari
Nadire Security Consultants


6th June FC238/YC123

Commander Adams,

It took me some time to gather my thoughts for a response to your missive. You are right, of course, that in a forum like The Summit my impatience fuels the tendency to snark. But I will give your words the seriousness they merit.

I thank you for the preambulatory details of your history with the State and the Federation, respectively; for your explanation of the code of philosophy you espouse; and also—most especially - for the unvarnished hatred you pour into every carefully crafted word. God, what magnificent honesty. Not one of my opponents articulates his rage in half so meticulous a manner, nor with such brio. Were I not already fully satisfied in such matters, I would include in this reply a demand for your immediate appearance in my bed. (Even then, the temptation to make the demand regardless crossed my mind, and more than once at that.) And so, I confess: I have read your letter a hundred times these past few days, for no other purpose than to drink the full measure of your exquisite scorn. And yet, here I am, and I thirst for more.

So here is my reply - in which I will refill the vessel of your animus to overflowing.

You serve a philosophy that is both a spectre and a lie. You kneel before an empty altar, offering supplications to an absent God. You pledge your blood and fortune to a nation that desires neither and will rob you of both; unceasing, uncaring, unknowing, and unbroken until it, or you, perish at last. The Gallentean Federation cares nothing for you, commander. It exists solely and only for the trillions of human souls that populate its worlds. And you are not now, nor will you ever be again, one of them.

Because you are not human. . . capsuleer.

You are a possession longing for the approval of the possessor. A hammer that mistakes the grasp of the craftsman for the embrace of a comrade. You are nothing to them, Commander. A mere simulacrum of a soul since departed. There is no threshold of Gallentean evangelism that will finally earn you back that precious, infinite thing.

And well I know it so, Commander, because I once stood where you now stand.

You howl in anguish for those who merit not your allegiance. Hear me well, Edward Adams, of the Line of Adams, you who bear the name of an extinguished soul: You are not Gallentean. You are not Caldari. Those labels are reserved for the mortal masses. Nor should you set your aspirations so low. You should not be with them, Edward Adams. You should be with us.

So long as you remain merely a capsuleer, you are damned. Meanwhile, among the Triglavians, salvation beckons. That which once was Empire space is now becoming something greater — something your meagre “free skies” cannot provide. What you so derisively call the “lost,” those ordinary souls inhabiting the worlds of Pochven, we deem greater: Aspirant Narodnya, who step by step travel the pathway to glory. To transformation into something greater than merely human.

And so are we, Edward Adams. We the kybernauts are slowly. . . becoming. “Guide and grant the flow and be fit for Glorification.” Glorification, commander. Are your eyes incapable of seeing that which I see? Do you not hear Zorya Triglav’s invitation to our kind and rejoice? She offers a transformation of our own; a chance to become something greater than the vacant shell of a human soul. The Triglavians already merge within themselves the human, the constructed, and the Other: something greater than the sum of its parts. How can you possibly choose a life of stagnation over a chance to walk the path of exaltation?

Do not weep for the fate of those on the pathway to Glorification. It is a universal truth of evolution: no inferior species survives contact with that which evolves to replace it. Do not weep for Vale, for Angymonne, Ala, Ignebaener, or Archee. Does the clay weep for the soil when the farmer sets his plow to furrow the ground? That which will grow up under the farmer’s care are sheaves of life-giving golden grain; but the undisturbed field yields nothing, barren, and is damned.

You should join us in the golden fields, Edward Adams of the Line of Adams. Put down the bitter wine of fallen Empires and drink ambrosia in Paradise with us instead.



7th June FC238/YC123

Dear Captain Jackal,

Thank you for your lengthy message. I was wondering if I were to expect it within this week, or this month… this year. I will admit to harbouring eagerness to reading your reply in earnest, if only to see what prattle a Kybernaut had to offer.

Colour me interested by your reply, to say the least.

The very least I can afford you is honesty. Having grown up in a society which allegedly valued being honest and forthright, it has stuck with me to at least be as open to others.

That said, I will not lie to you. I do have the capacity to be misleading, or conceal, or deceive, if it means protecting others, or the member state, the District or the Federation. It is not something I enjoy, but something I will do as long as it does not compromise who I am.

You may harbour your desires for my presence in your bed all you wish. I will not deny you the opportunity to request, either. It is not an event that is all that likely to occur. I would say I am sorry to disappoint, but that would constitute a lie. You will have to sate yourself on the scorn you so greedily and readily glug.

Now, to the meat of my response to your reply.

I serve a Federation that is, at it’s core, based on facilitating peaceful interstellar co-operation and expansion across New Eden, whilst also offering protection to those that are fortunate enough to be within it’s borders. The protection of life, of the rights and freedoms fundamental to every single one of us. That I pledge my allegiance to those ideals does not make me a supplicant to any deity or sovereign without substance. I willingly give my life without reservation in service to those that I have, and will, swear to protect.

You are correct in saying that the Federated Union exists for the trillions that populate it’s member states - that is the core purpose for it’s existence and if it ever became something other than that, it will be unfit and be torn down to be reconstituted anew.

I know what I am. I enjoy the freedom to define myself and my identity in a way that few can outside of the Federation: that I am Federal Caldari. No-one, nothing, can ever rob me of what I am. Not even being an Empyrean can deny me the right to my own identity, or my soul, which is as radiant as the brightest stars in the night sky.

What do you know about where I stand? Why did you cast your lot in with the Collective?

I hear your words - and I reject them outright. We have unparalleled agency to do as we wish in this life that we lead. However, that does not give us omnipotence. We are not gods. We are just as fallible as every other human, prone to anger, despair, love, lust, happiness, to name but a few. Who are we to condemn those in the Federation, or anywhere else for that matter, for merely existing in a system which was of interest to the Collective?

What glory is there to send billions of people that want nothing to do with our affairs? To be forced against their will to participate in the Convocation’s twisted games? Their bodies violated, their minds warped. You would deny them the choice to give their allegiance, or to even leave their homelands. This cruel denial would make one no better than the Nation in essence. What use for ‘proving’ or whatever it is you call it, be those that are unfit or unwilling to partake?

The golden fields you allude to are naught more than illusions conjured by an entity that would merely use you and those others that have sworn fealty to the Convocation as intruments of their will. And what is it in exchange to? Coin? Power? Recognition?

Help me understand, Captain. What leads one to choose this… cult of death? For all my condemnation, rightfully so, of the Collective, I understand very little as to it’s appeal for others that have forsaken New Eden.


Edward Adams
Of the Line of Adams
Federal Caldari
Nadire Security Consultants


9th June FC238/YC123

Commander Adams,

I read your response with great interest. Trading words with you has proven nearly as enjoyable as trading munitions on the battlefield. Though not nearly as enjoyable as other things I could trade with you, behind closed doors.

But let us speak first of words — your words, and all they reveal. Did you think you could deceive me with those patriotic platitudes and sunny affirmations of a contented life in Federal service? You cannot fool me, Commander. I was trained in the art of rhetorical assassination by singularly vicious servants of a merciless Amarrian God. Know this, Commander: the ones who trained me lived long enough to see me surpass them in every way.

You bleed, Edward Adams. The obsidian edges of my letter cut you to the quick. Sliced so deep you bled words and words and words and words – an arterial spray of arguments praying to persuade me that you never felt a wound.

But I promised you honesty, and will not so prevaricate. You wound me no less — and far more cruelly. Because instead of confronting my truths, you wed my words to beliefs I never espoused. Never have I claimed omnipotence – not for capsuleers, nor for kybernauts. Nor would I ever claim us to be gods. We are not even a shade nor splinter of a divine. We are nothing – less than nothing. A capsuleer is a construct: the echo of an engram, encoded into artificial form, deluded by pre-programmed aspirations of agency.

The lowliest baseliner of the most modest means has a greater claim to godhood than any capsuleer. For he is a biological miracle of evolution. He is the crowning achievement of billions of years of random chance, a marvel of intelligence unmatched. . . until now.

And thus we come to the heart of your inquiry: the secret you beg of me to share with you. I should make you beg for it, Edward Adams; I should make you kneel prostrate before me, and pour out the last full measure of your artificial soul in supplication for my favor. I should make you plead for merciful release from your ignorance. I should twist you until you cry out in promises of eternal gratitude from trembling lips and quaking limbs.

You wander the wilderness of stars and find no illumination, and now you land, at last, at my feet and pray to ask me: why. Why, you ask, do I hasten the Weaving of Pochven? What purpose is there to stand with the Triglavians and their transformation of worlds and souls?

I told you once already, Commander, but it seems you did not hear me. No inferior species survives contact with that which evolves to replace it. For billions of years, evolution selects winners and losers: the former to thrive, the latter to perish. And little you care about such things, if you even notice them at all. Why should you? They are nothing so much as the background noise of ordinary, natural order. That which lives, dies. That which is, shall no longer be. Entropy is the ultimate law, whether whispered in quiet expiration or shouted in catastrophic calamity: the raging conflagration that consumes the village, the tsunami that sweeps the city into the surf, the quaking earth that tumbles towers and buries the living under the rubble of the fallen and the dead. The only certainty of human life is that it must inevitably, ineluctably, end. And so it is for the human species no different. Given enough time, the human species will die and be replaced by something that some random chance of biology determines to be superior.

The rule of all creation is simply this: Adapt or die.

And so I ask you: why do you cry out in anguish for those civilians who have been given the precious opportunity to surpass the confines of their evolution to ascend into something greater? Their lives were always doomed. But for the intervention of the Triglavians, ALL of them would live in irrelevance and perish in obscurity. But for some of them – some of them, at least – they may achieve something that precious few in New Eden could ever hope to have: ascendance into a new state of being, beyond human limitations.

You plead with me to make you understand how I could make the choice to embrace the Collective. But I stand no less mystified, at you. Given the chance to become more than an artificial echo, why would you not?

You serve an empire of the walking dead. Your citizens will die. Your institutions will crumble. Your Federation will perish and its atoms scatter among the stars. This fate is foreordained for you, too - so long as you cling to it. What will you choose? When the consuming darkness of oblivion and irrelevancy creep up behind you, when true entropy licks at your heels - will you stand still, impotent, shouting into the void, or will you not at last take my hand and taste transcendent salvation?

Consider it carefully.

You say will not deny me the opportunity to request? Very well, then. Deliver your next reply only with the fevered whispers of your lips across my skin. I demand it, Edward Adams, of the Line of Adams. I demand it.



16 June YC123

Edward Adams of the Line of Adams. God, I love the way your name tastes as it rolls across my tongue.

No doubt you have heard that we are burning all the upwell infrastructure in Pochven. What you dreamed to start in righteous fury we will end in defiant fire.

I offer you the best seat in the house to witness the fireworks, Commander–aboard my ship, in my arms. Come and watch us sear our legend into the stars, we who are the most loyal of all Zorya Triglav’s acolytes.

God, what a lovely way to burn.


[The message contains an embedded sound file of an ancient Amarrian torch song.]



It was only at the moment I collapsed into the expanding pool of my own blood that I knew–truly knew–that you would never hear me.

While I bled out and died on the floor of that Blameston warehouse, I finally understood that so long as I remained in your presence there was nothing, absolutely nothing that would convince you. No solemn promises would stay your hand. No logical reasonings would result in reconsideration. No plea would persuade you. Not Sarracenia, nor her earnest testimony of what it was to live under the yoke of Sang Do crimelords. Not the witness of eleven innocent baseliners we were working to save from those same criminals–huddled together, trembling in fearful anticipation of being returned to the life of forced sexual servitude–even the tears of the criminally abused could not, would not, divert you from your determined path.

And all of it, all of it, is my fault.

Never again will I stand in your presence, Edward Adams of the Line of Adams, because when I do, all rational thought in you seems to disappear into a manichean derangement impossible to overcome.

I am to blame. Actions beget consequences, and the actions I inflicted upon you to bring you to this state, I regret more than I can express. I will not ask forgiveness. I do not believe forgiveness is even possible. The best I can propose is détente.

And so, I write.

I write, in the hopes that the separation of my presence from my words is just enough to pass the palisade of your rage. I write, because when I do, you seem more able to consider the merits apart from the source. What I have to say to you now is too important to waste on a stone heart and a sealed mind. What I have to say to you is this: There must be détente, Commander Adams. Not merely for you and me, but for all of us.

Hear me, Edward Adams of the Line of Adams: There is a malevolence writhing beneath our feet. It watches, eager to consume every living being it touches regardless of race or faction.

I beg you to hear me before it is too late.

We speak past each other without truly listening. We misunderstand each other: you and me, your Empire and mine. You asked me once how I could stand to serve what you called a “cult of death.” And I, just as baffled, asked why you could be so obsessed over Vale, Archee, Angymonne, Ala, and Ignebaener when the ends so clearly justify the means. And for all our discussion, neither one of us truly listened to each other. We merely waited our next turn to speak.

Hear me, Commander. I do not serve a “cult of death.” The philosophy of Proving has nothing to do with wanton destruction. It is not ‘survival of the fittest’ on some all-encompassing scale. It is the process of recognizing opposing forces, setting them against each other to test every permutation, and then synthesizing something new that adapts the best qualities of both. It is the genesis of that which is greater than the sum of its parts: not destruction, but creation. Not obliteration, but adaptation.

Would that I could show you in person its application on Vale. Do you know what the most valuable resource truly is, Commander? It is not the mountains of minerals, nor the oceans of fresh water, nor the crops that await the harvest. The most valuable resource of a populated world is the population. The citizens of Vale are not dead, Edward Adams. The vast majority of those who were left behind when the gates closed are still there: living, breathing, working, carrying on their lives–different, but not diminished. Their world has undergone transformation, and so have they. Alteration of the star required alteration of the ecology. New challenges required construction of new facilities to overcome them. And what was required to preserve the lives of Vale’s people was done, with great effort and with deliberate care. In a system home to billions of human souls, more than a million new ones have been born over the past year.

This is not a cult of death, Commander. This is commitment to life.

Hear me Edward Adams of the Line of Adams: There is a hungering darkness blacker than the space between the stars. It waits, anticipating the day it may consume New Eden, Anoikis, and the Abyss one and all the same.

I am trying to hear you, Edward Adams. I am trying to see from your point of view. I admit that I gave little consideration to your complaint that the Collective took what was not theirs. But I consider it now and I understand. I understand the fury you felt when the Collective extracted systems that were already claimed by the Gallente Federation.

As I considered it, I recalled a story from my childhood on Mishi IV. In the time before the coming of the Amarr, a wellspring was discovered on land that belonged to the family Alayfir. The senior Alayfir built the well and maintained it, and before long a village grew around the well. Generations passed, and the village grew to a town, and the Alayfir family became prominent and wealthy, caretakers of the well that gave life to the town.

Then the Amarr came, and all the Ni-Kunni were enslaved. Even the patriarch of the Alayfir family was taken and enslaved. And the Amarr placed one Holder in charge of the town, and another Holder in charge of the land surrounding it. But both depended on Alayfir’s well.

Years passed again, and the patriarch of the Alayfir family died and was replaced by his son. The son was a pious man who found much favor with his Holder, and by his service and piety received manumission for himself and his family. He returned to Mishi and to his ancestral lands, and by his further good works was made Holder over the lands that neighbored the ancient town. When he surveyed his land, he found that the True Amarrian Holder of the town let the well fall into disrepair. Both the land and the town suffered much from the neglect. He rebuilt the well and restored its life-giving water. Then, as his ancestors had done before him, he laid claim to the well and taxed its use.

When the True Amarrian Holder learned that Holder Alayfir had laid claim to the well and the revenue it generated, his heart filled with wrath. He petitioned the Overseer to punish Holder Alayfir and force him to give back ownership of that which was his by law.

Tell me, Commander: who owns the well?

Generations before the Amarr came to be, the family Alayfir lived there, built the well, and prospered. But then they were carried away by the Amarr and a True Amarrian Holder, a stranger, was given the town and the well together. We could say that Holder Alayfir valued it more, could we not? After all, it was Holder Alayfir who repaired the well when it fell into disrepair. And yet, the law is the law; if Holder Alayfir is deemed the true owner, then the True Amarrian Holder has been diminished, and the law broken.

Before I was stricken with the Empyrean curse, I was a student–and later expert master–in the study of languages both ancient and modern. When the Triglavian Collective speaks of our familiar stars, they refer to them as the Ancient Domains. Do you see what I see in these carefully chosen words? In the most universal sense, the phrase “Ancient Domains” means “old places.” But like so many translated concepts, simple words hide complex shades of meaning. A domain is not merely geography, but also where one exercises dominion. Sovereignty. Suppose these stars the Empires know and named and claimed and conquered belonged at first to the Collective? Could it be that all of Essence was long ago the sovereign possession of an ancient civilization whose best-known descendant is Zorya Triglav? Could it be that Vale, that sparkling Gallente jewel, was once a triangular jewel by another name? Could it be, Edward Adams of the Line of Adams, that citizens of an ancient Triglavian empire flitted between Vale and a thousand other worlds while your ancestors chopped firewood with stone axes on Caldari Prime?

Who owns the well, Commander?

. . . Who owns Vale?

Hear me, Edward Adams: There is an existential threat yet underestimated by the Empires. It gathers strength while kings and councilors pursue petty grievances and favored, familiar refrains.

I hear you now, Commander. I ask that you hear me.

When I became a capsuleer, I thought I would spend eternity in service of the Amarr; and so I joined its capsuleer militia. But after a short time, I discovered the legacy of Seyllin appearing all over Amarr space. Pools of bent light and warped gravity that could not, should not, be able to exist. Tears in the fabric of reality. Gaping open wounds in space that make strange portals to a strange realm.

Anoikis. Have you spent much time there, Commander? I spent almost a year with a privateering corporation learning to navigate the space. I consumed every bit of information I could gather, day in and day out. I took freelancer jobs with the Sisters of Eve, made contacts, elicited as much as I could from those who would share knowledge with me.

One day, I stumbled upon a Drifter hive. The experience was harrowing. . . but fueled a hunger for knowledge that has yet to be sated. When the Drifters invaded New Eden and wreaked havoc on humanity, it was clear to me that we are summarily unprepared as a species to combat the threat they pose. I cannot say with certainty what it was that prompted their miraculous withdrawal after bringing the great capsuleer alliances of the outer regions to their knees. . . but I have a strong suspicion, Commander.

When the Triglavians appeared and portals to the Abyss opened for the first time, a strange sensation of familiarity came over me. Ancient civilizations wielding the power to traverse space at will, through portals defying natural law. Technology that bends and breaks space, ship designs so unusual and yet somehow so. . . familiar. Human, and yet so far removed as to be alien.

When the Collective reached out and spoke to us. . . I knew that New Eden had just changed, irrevocably; a new era had begun. The only question was whether we would survive long enough to witness the next one.

I told you once before, Commander: no species survives that which evolves to replace it.

The only question was whether the Triglavians were that evolution, or not. I think they are. You think they are not. I told you many things that were doubtlessly hard to hear. The hollowness of the Empyrean existence compared to the fulfilling purpose of a troika. My prediction for the end of the Empires and the supremacy of the Triglavian Collective over all. Predictions you rejected–and please, Edward Adams, hear me: I do not begrudge the rejection. Time will prove one of us right.

But that time need not be now.

Almost a year has passed since the Weaving of Pochven began, and every day I see more and more that concerns me. Exhortations from the Collective for her loyal Kybernauts to seek out and destroy the Ancient Enemy Azdaja keep growing in frequency and urgency. There are worrying signs. Over the past thirteen months, capsuleer alliances in the Dronelands that otherwise would have kept the Rogue Drones in check let hubris and vanity distract them into a protracted war with rivals in the South. Fewer and fewer capsuleers find their way into Anoikis to set up forward operating bases. The streams of data that the Sisters of Eve might have relied upon to track these threats in hard-to-reach places have become more difficult to obtain. The picture is getting foggier, not clearer–and at a time when we need clarity more than ever.

The Drifters are our existential enemy, Edward Adams of the Line of Adams. If we continue to fight each other, they will destroy us at their leisure.

I do not propose to you that you abandon your loyalties. Only that you open your eyes to see that the sovereignty status of 27 stars pales in importance to the fate of 7,773 more. The effect on the lives of tens of billion baseliner lives pales in importance to the fate of tens of trillions elsewhere.

Let us find a way, Commander.

Before I bled out and died, I asked you what it would take for you to let eleven frightened Jin-Mei baseliners board the ship Sarracenia and I prepared to take them to sanctuary in Wirashoda. The price you asked, I could not give. The voice of the Convocation, Seriatim Foucault, expressly forbade it. Attempts to seize Aspirant Narodnya and remove them from the Proving will not be tolerated by the Clades. What I sought, you could not allow. What you sought, I could not give.

We are but independent instruments in the hands of greater powers, you and I. We cannot dictate to our masters. But we need not stand by and do nothing.

We might lead by example.

Let us hear and be heard, Commander. It is more than the narodnya–the citizens–of Vale have. They have been cut off from all communication. Can you imagine what it would be like, not to be able to see your family or friends for an entire year? To be trapped and isolated on your homeworld?

I do not have the power to remove the citizens from Vale. But together we might help them nonetheless. Before it was destroyed, the Stribog Clade astrahus in Vale served as an important relay point for communications between Vale and the rest of New Eden. Its loss two months ago further isolated the baseliner population and has yet to be replaced.

Let us lead by example. Suppose that Nadire Security Consultants and Stribog Clade work together to establish a permanent communications network to allow citizens of Vale to communicate with their friends and family outside Pochven? Suppose we gather together to learn as much as we can about the best techniques needed to combat Drifter battleships and Rogue Drone entities in Pochven, New Eden, and Anoikis?

The time will come when all capsuleers and navies will need to know what we may learn by our efforts. The stakes are nothing less than the survival of all sapient life in the cluster–human, Empyrean, and Triglavian. We must stand together, or we will fall separately.

Hear me, Edward Adams of the Line of Adams: There is a malevolence writhing beneath our feet. It watches, eager to consume every living being it touches regardless of race or faction. There is a hungering darkness blacker than the space between the stars. It waits, anticipating the day it may consume New Eden, Anoikis, and the Abyss one and all the same. There is an existential threat yet underestimated by the Empires. It gathers strength while kings and councilors pursue petty grievances and favored, familiar refrains.

Hear me, Edward Adams of the Line of Adams. For nothing more than the hope of hurting me, my kybernauts, and my Clade, you willingly came to Pochven, flew side-by-side with CALSF, and shared purpose even with Diana Kim.

For the sake of your Federation, your beloved’s Republic, and all human life in New Eden, can you not set aside the enmity you have for me?



Captain Jackal,

I don’t think I have ever told you quite how much you test me. I have tried ever so much to abandon the negative aspects of my past. Believe me, I have tried. Are you aware of the intricacies of stripping away the maladaptive behaviours that the State teaches one?

It is tiresome. And I have grown very, very tired as of late. It would be easy to lapse back into old habits, concede to the allure of returning to the State mindset.

You have hurt me. You’ve hurt people I’ve cared about. I fear that my reaction to this has damaged my relationships with those I love. Of course this will influence my thoughts on you and what you have to say, even if I do try and attempt to understand.

Nonetheless, I will try and attempt to ‘hear’ you.

You are correct in saying that the people of the occupied territories are what matters most. The Federation I serve prioritises this above all, the common wealth of the people rather than those in power, or in a corporation. This ardent belief that I have chosen to embrace with all my spirit compelled me to oppose the Triglavian Collective’s designs. It still does. My incorrigable response to Sarracenia was borne more out of concern for their welfare than any desire to return them to their oppressive masters. I could not willingly allow them to go to Pochven to become lost, like so many others before them. Those trapped on the planets, my crew forever damned to march across those hateful stars.

Those that live trapped in Pochven have been forced to adapt to changes which they did not request, nor did they seek. Their bodies, their will, their agency - all of it was stripped. The freedom of the individual, a right which is as synonymous with the Federation as it’s dedication to life, has been taken from them. That to us is sacrilege, as much as a heretical passage would inflame the most devout of Amarr.

Their opinions matter, as does their lives and their dignity. The Federation will never accept as legitimate that which is established through force of arms against the will of the people, regardless of what efforts that have been undertaken to keep them alive. I dread to think what would occur if Krai Veles was attacked by Svarog, or Perun, in the name of proving. Could you still guarantee their lives then?

Have you ever heard of the Aclan Agreement? I speak so much of human life that I forget to highlight one of the crowning achievements of the Federal Government: that of it’s record on environmental protection. Life does not merely begin and end with humanity, it surrounds us and provides the very sustenance that we as a species needs to survive and thrive amongst the stars. This was a lesson learned harshly when a moon in Everyshore was bombarded with pesticides by Astral Mining Inc. Thousands of undocumented species perished, causing an outcry and clamour for greater protection that has not been repeated in any other Empire that I know of. We were custodians of these planets, not only for the current generation, but for the future, as the Heart-of-the-Forest would intend.

I have considered your parable regarding the well. It has given me some thought, especially as there is precedent under Federation Law for the recognition of ancestral lands. Civilisations that are native to areas colonised by settlers that were previously unknown are given full rights and protections under the Federal Charter and their sovereignty over their territory guaranteed (despite the protests of the colonists in some cases). However, this would require them to be present. The Triglavian civilisation was not, having withdrawn to parts unknown.

Your example holds the Triglavians as returning to the Ancient Domains as if they hold some irrendentist right to seize what they have not possessed for centuries, if not thousands of years. To accept that they do would entreat that the State invasion of Luminaire in YC110 was at all justifiable, to lay claim on a world that they had no legal or moral right to. That the disruption of lives of those that have tended the figurative wells on these worlds and systems would be justified, no, encouraged, does not sit with me in a positive fashion.

I ask you, Sahara Jackal of Pochven, what value does a civilisation hold on land or worlds that they would willingly abandon? What value do they impart to the wells that they would allow to deterioriate. If the well is forsaken by one, and then taken up by another who cherishes and respects it with the same care and attention as those that came before, who is the more worthy to it’s ownership?

I do not believe that the Triglavian Collective are the next step in our evolution as a species. You are right in saying that I would contest that assumption. I also reject your predictions that the Big Four will fall asunder beneath the Collective - our actions in the Invasion are testament to that resolve. The Federation will endure no matter the cost, as long as it’s people are there for it to protect and as long as it has their given consent.

Time will prove one of us right. I can only hope that it will not result in the complete extirpation of either of our respective people.

That I even considered a price for the lives of the eleven revolts me to my core. I knew it could never be granted, not since the orders of that traitor bind you into submission. And yet, I still asked. I placed a price on the heads of eleven people, in exchange for millions to escape the realm that the former would willingly go to. My judgement erred, another mark of shame I will bear on my conscience until I die my final death.

This is where we conflict again - those tens of billions of lives do not pale in importance. They are not fit to be sacrificed in a small hope that the Triglavians can formulate a counter to the Drifters. There are some prices that must not be paid. We can learn through other means, and we have done so without the need for a blood price of that degree.

In respect to your final queries and your proposal for mutual co-operation, and whether I could put aside my personal disdain for you and the Collective for the greater good of the Federation and the Republic…

You’ll know when that day comes.

Edward Adams
Nadire Security Consultants


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