Spire

Today was the first day that really stood out in awhile. I managed to acquire and sell off a beautiful Fleet-issue Tempest, which got me enough ISK to get a pilot's license extension. So that's that for another month.

I took the Incursus I had been fitting together for a test flight. Back in the days of Shaktipat I had flown the Incursus quite a bit, but never was able to use tech-two blasters. What a world of difference! Loaded up with Null charges it can get some great range, and I sense it is quite easily capable of taking down its analog, the Rifter. Of course I managed to do this, and shortly after lost the Incursus to a sensor boosted Lachesis.

A shame. But at least I'm able to remember it.

Quicksand

The days are really starting to blur. Today I did what I often do: take down Imperial convoys transporting troops and supplies to their bases in the warzone. It's a shame, really. As many as I destroy, the Empire seems dead-set on keeping their war machine oiled and fueled. I can't blame them either: we do the same. It is odd, being able to take the lives of a hundred-some crewmen aboard an industrial ship with just a few thoughts. I used to question the morality of it all. I still do at times. It seems almost unreal that I can take down a dozen Bestower-class ships in service to the Empire on an almost daily basis. I wonder if I'm really doing it all, in fact, or if it's just some memory on repeat. The latter is not at all impossible, given recent events.

Hourglass

Months. It's been months since I've updated these logs. I'll spare the backstory and simply focus on the present.

Teraa Matar is great. If ever I could call myself succesful in anything as a capsuleer, it is now. I'm becoming more efficient in combat in just about every way, though I am still quite green. This is all excellent.

As a person, things have been...complicated. The short-term memory loss is becoming rather apparent now. At first I attributed it to lack of sleep (I quit Sooth Sayer a few weeks back, which was how I fell asleep many nights), but now I'm not so sure. Hell, I had great difficulty even accessing these logs because I couldn't remember how to access it. I mentioned the memory problems to some newcomer (whom I had apparently already spoken to at some previous point, which I failed to recollect) and I was once again asked if drugs were the issue. I suppose old demons always haunt, eh?

I mention the memory problems first and foremost because they lead to another unfortunate personal event which I will not go into detail describing here. Suffice it to say, a dearest of friends was badly hurt. At the end of the day it boiled down to me not-remembering. If what she said is true (which I'm sure they are), I damn well wish I could remember these things. Such things are worth remembering.

An hourglass which has been flipped does not remember the last hour. It focuses only on the present, keeping it in consideration at all times until the sand stops flowing. With every podding I am flipped.

Changes

I really need to stop neglecting these logs....

It's been about a month and half since I last ranted here, at least by my poor estimation skills. So I'll give the short version of it all (at least as short as I can bear):

The Empire and I had a falling out. Not surprising, seeing as I've been shooting at Empire ships my entire career. It was also over disagreements in theology, and notably because I do not support slavery at all, whereas the Empire does. So I've entered my corporation, Crimson Path, into the Tribal Liberation Force. Most of the other capsuleers in the corp have been inactive lately, being tied up with out-of-pod duties or taking vacations or something. I've been working closely with a group of pilots called Teraa Matar, headed by Avlynka Surionen (otherwise known as Ava Starfire). In addition to Avlynka, the other pilots I've been working with are Kikia Truzhari, Kalaratiri, and last (but certainly not least!) Alexandra Jovakko.

I like being back in Ebolfer. It used to be such a quiet system, where I could almost meditate while my ship's mining lasers cycle through. I've noticed more enemy traffic in Ebolfer than the last time I lived there, however, so I've already had a fair share of conflicts.

Did I mention my love interest? I'm dating the aforementioned Alexandra Jovakko. She's a lot like other Caldari women I've met: cold, distant, and professional when in public but very warm and passionate when in smaller groups. She's amazing. That's not to say the relationship doesn't have its own issues (none of which are the fault of either her or I), but we've agreed to make it work. I like this!

The past few weeks have been filled with mining and building frigates. I hope this cache of frigates will come in handy; I plan on handing them out for free to Teraa Matar and other such groups. Hopefully there will be a larger gang roam in the future!

Oh, and dreadlocks. I have them now.

Tests of Faith

The past week and half has been incredibly testing. My path to absolution will be long...this I knew when going in to this scenario.

An incredible couple passed away, reportedly due to a shuttle accident. The couple was Raze and Victoria Valadeus. I would be lying if I said they had no hand in helping me on the path I'm on now; Raze's steadfastness and courage in sticking with what he believed in was (and still is) incredibly inspiring. So too was Victoria's seemingly infinite kindness and patience for everyone, including those who disagreed with her or were otherwise vulgar or mean-spirited. I was fortunate to be invited to pay my respects to them. On Raze's coffin I left an empty scabbard, engraved with a few common prayers of the Ammatar Rite. I figured it symbolized Final Peace (a scabbard without a sword = peace) as well as how valiant he was in life for defending and holding to his ideals. On Victoria's I left a leather-bound book with empty pages. On the cover it read "A New Story in Heaven" in Amarrish. But these trinkets that I describe? They don't do them justice. As Headmaster Shutaq eloquently pointed out, we do them justice by living and acting as they taught. Where two bright lights of warmth and enlightenment were burned out in this dark universe, perhaps a dozen or more other lights were lit. I will strive to be a light, even when things seem to be at their darkest.

Peace be upon them both, and may God bring them eternal honor.

Other things that vex me as of late are the Matari capsuleers loyal to the Republic. I understand their opposition to the Empire's institution of slavery; even I oppose it on the grounds of it being an incredibly weak method of bringing people into the fold (if I may dare suggest, I believe the Empress would agree; she is freeing all ninth generation of slaves. Surely slavery is coming to an end!). What I fail to understand is their opposition to the Faith itself. There are aspects of traditional Matari culture which I admire highly and have even likened to analogs of Imperial social structures (clans being similar to houses, for one. The Nefentar caught on to this quickly). It goes without saying that I admire much of what the Empire has to offer (namely, the religion). I do not see why some sort of accord can be brought about. At the very least, a hybridization of the two cultures isn't impossible. If we are to bring God's light to all people, they should come willingly. I do not wish to wipe out the Republic or tell it what to do, but I do want my voice to be heard rather than be ignored or scorned as "blood-traitor lies".

Of particular concern are Ava and Kikia. I understand their anger towards the Empire due to its dark history of enslaving others (which, again, I am against anyway). Why must their anger also be directed towards God and the faith? I care for them like I would any other bredren or sistren. Why can't they see that? I don't want to hurt anyone..

Two Betrayals

Well today has certainly been interesting! A guy on the inside of the Fleet Coordination Commission let us access some NeoCom mailing lists. We essentially sent Nation propaganda to around eight hundred or so pilots. That was the first betrayal; the guy letting us in on those channels.

The second betrayal has been in the works for damn near two or three months now. I had a lot of time to think when I was grounded in that True Power station, and came to some ugly conclusions about Nation. I'm all for Unity, but with these recent and constant Incursions I don't think Nation is really pulling it off well. Nation wants Unity and to preserve human life and yet it invades systems, destroys lives and families, and generally causes more suffering than it seeks to prevent. A secular mindset following hedonistic utilitarianism tells me that the amount of suffering (negative utility) Nation produces outweighs the promise of Unity which it has failed to keep. Not to mention that my mindset isn't entirely secular; I was raised in the Mandate and so still carry much of the Amarrian religion with me.

The purpose of Integration is Unity. And yet to Integrate someone is to exercise your will upon them, which would imply that there are two individuals (two wills) rather then one Whole. Thus, Unity is not attained by Integration. And so by proxy, Unity is not attained by Nation.

Back Among the Stars

Well well! It's been quite awhile since I've updated these logs.

I managed to get another pilot's license. It was by the graces of the support staff of Crimson Path that this was accomplished; thealmighty1 and Alpha Slayer did a good job getting the funds together. Hev Shai'koth pushed the papers, of course.

It's been about a month since getting back in the pod. I had about fifty million ISK but managed to blow it; I set up a temporary HQ in Solitude but moved to a more permanent position in Placid. I've also managed to hook up with an alliance-mate, Victory Sparrow. It was nice flying on combat ops again.

New Eden is more interesting than ever! I've heard of things regarding Nation, the Sleepers, and wormholes. While I'm still in Shaktipat Revelators, a Nation-loyal alliance, I'm still quite fond of the Covenant and keep in touch with them. I'm more or less indifferent towards the factions, taking ISK from whomever will give me work so long as I don't have to shoot at Nation or Covenant ships. I've been building ships again, mostly Gallente (as I've started another blueprint library independent of my primary library in Nation space, so I'm mostly picking up Gallente blueprints due to the location of my HQ). I quite like the Catalyst-class destroyer, as it resembles a small Nightmare put on its side.

I really can't find much else to say. Oh, I haven't done boosters in about two months. I have, however, taken an interest in more natural substances (roots, leaves, etc), as they won't compromise my immune system like boosters do.

Semi-Permanently Grounded

Well I did not expect my piloting career to end like this. Shortly after the more or less crippling pod driver update my pilot's license expired. Being in bad standings with CONCORD, and with no way of bribing a CONCORD official or buying a new license off the market, I am unable to interface with my pod. I plug in...and nothing. Nothing.

"Updates"

As many capsuleers are aware, regular updates are made to the pod's hardware drivers. The most recent batch of drivers has left me more or less unable to pilot; every time I jump into a system I experience fluttering vision, a momentary black-out, and then I find myself floating around in pod goo, unable to control a damned thing on my ship. Of course I unplug myself and then re-plug into the pod's interface and things are back to normal within a few moments, but it is in these few seconds that my ship is incredibly vulnerable. Because of this I have been effectively grounded until the software is fixed.

At the time of writing this, I am stuck in the True Creations station in RLDS-R. I guess I'll need to find some True Citizen girls to chase around and court...

Questions and Ponderings of an Addict

*Rek appears in a short holovid, aboard the rather dark and small cargo bay of one of his many Reapers. This one has a small bunk, a table with a few old-fashioned things comprised of thin sheets of paper bound in leather know as "books", and some roots and vials of various kinds also rest on the table. One of the roots in particular, the "Raider's Root" is recognizable by those few familiar with the divining rituals of certain Blood Raider sects. Rek very rarely uses this root, usually opting for the more traditional boosters instead; it is clear he is troubled. He begins to speak into the recorder, but his attention is focused on the nether-distance.*

The path which can be named is not the True Path.

Is Nation a named path? Is it the True Path?

Every time there is a Nation operation my comrades are able to go forth and support Nation, and yet seemingly without fail some "accident" occurs and keeps me station-bound. Is there a Guiding Hand in this? Is this mere coincidence?

I have been called a puppet of Master Kuvakei, but what I have just Seen makes me question if Nation is itself a cog in something much more massive.

What's out there? What Calls me?

Is Nation in danger?

I have fear.

The Separation of Shaktipat Revelators

I am furious. Our alliance's leadership is splitting apart some of the most effective combat squad pilots I've ever seen, simply because of personal differences. While I understand they are no petty things to argue over the issue should not spill over to the rest of us. While I have always been respected as a corporate leader in SHARE, I've always listened to the words of Ghost Hunter and Niraia and trusted their wisdom; I consider myself "under" them in rank, in a sense.

We are being split apart. It's like some sort of sick joke. Other pilots on the Summit joke about "unity not prevailing after all".  I am half-tempted to contact the pilots I've flown with and trust and forming our own separate corporate entity, free of any political bullshit. No power struggle, no trust issues, just a gung-ho group of pilots in support of Nation.

A Somewhat Brief Autobiography (Final Part)

The rest is very recent history. I served in the Republic's militia but was terrible at Pilot-versus-Pilot combat. I was podded a lot, but didn't much care. The real issue was getting funding for replacing my ships. I would dip in and out of the warzone areas, going into high-security space to accept defense contracts against the Angel Cartel to make a quick kredit to buy more ships, and then I'd return to the warzone to have those same ships be destroyed. I improved in my ability to at least survive against or evade enemy capsuleers, and soon became decently proficient at striking Amarrian military deadspace complexes. So long as the ship wasn't commanded by a capsuleer, I could destroy it.

I never even gave thought to the issue of the mortals aboard every ship I lost or destroyed. It was only until a half-destroyed corpse flew into my camera drone that I even became aware of the mortals that I was slaying. I remember the corpse in vivid detail. A fellow Sebiestor, perhaps a bit younger than me. The vacuum preserved his features well; no tattoos or tribal markings (clearly a slave). I wouldn't have been haunted much by the sight had he not resembled my friend Gar so much. I shrugged the feeling away and kept on.

By the time I reached the rank of Blade Commander some months later (an age for a capsuleer), the grisly sights had begun to wear on me. Not even the boosters (with which I had only recently became acquainted) were taking the edge off. Every day I wondered whether or not I'd end up killing one of my childhood friends serving aboard an Amarrian ship without even knowing it. The impersonal nature of this type of warfare struck me as intensely cold and dispassionate. There was no honor in killing hundreds or even a few thousand with the thought-commands of "Launch missiles; fire cannons".

Then a larger thought struck me: "There is no honor in killing".

At this point it is more or less common knowledge of how I began to sympathize with and eventually side with Sansha's Nation. And it is at this point that I end my (only somewhat) brief autobiography.

A Somewhat Brief Autobiography (Part 3)

I was now a free man with no title or certifications in a shattered Ammatar Mandate. Said with more precision, I was an orphaned teenager with nowhere to go.  To make matters worse Tsula Plantations was practically wiped out, leaving the economy and food supply of the Mandate to the whims of the Amarr Empire. I was not the only servant whose entire Holder and family had been wiped out; many slaves who serve Tsula Plantations personnel now found themselves jobless in an environment of resource scarcity. The backbone of the Mandate had been broken, leaving many Holders and their slaves impoverished.

Of course the Minmatar Republic was all too happy at the situation: charity groups and freedom fighters were more than glad to take in former slaves who were displaced by Chamberlain Karsoth's wrath against the Mandate. With more of their kin free, the Minmatar offered work for all able-bodied and willing; with a Republic to defend all hands were needed. As it turns out Minmatar ships are quite crew-intensive due to all the complex mechanical parts used in their construction, so I continued my father's trade as a mechanic-electrician on board a Rupture-class vessel, the R.F.S Visionary.

Of course serving aboard a starship required further technical training, so I was enrolled in Pator Tech School. When I had signed up for courses they were invariably technical training in starship systems, but when I later checked the course loadout in order to make the tuition payments (with my somewhat handsome paycheck from the Fleet) I noticed the tuition payments had already been payed. My courses were changed. Instead of taking "Starship Capacitor Systems" I was enrolled in "Neuro-Electronics" and "Spaceship Command". What was going on?

As Fate would have it, when I was undergoing my physical after signing up with the Fleet my genetics were tested positive for compatibility with the capsuleer program. The Republic government had taken great interest in me and was willing to pay for my education, which for a poor ex-slave such as myself was great news. To rise from slave to an immortal just because of my DNA was marvelous. I lost myself in the thought of it all; my humility and supportive attitudes towards the Ammatar way of life vanished with dreams of freedom among the stars. The only reason I didn't fly around the entire cluster the day I received my license was a contractual obligation to serve in the Republic's capsuleer militia. The Republic had invested in me and made me immortal, so I figured "Why not?". Sure I could have gone AWOL, but I figured if I am to be immortal I might as well learn how to fend for myself. The Republic monitored me to make sure I didn't do anything shifty, and as soon as they held me in high enough standing I was entered into the Tribal Liberation Force.

A Somewhat Brief Autobiography (Part 2)

Little did I know I was destined to become a capsuleer.

My Holder's only son and heir to his estate was training to be a ship captain. He was aiming for a job as an overseer for Tsula Plantations' space-based trade, which (of course) involved being in space. A Holder's only son is a particularly juicy target for Matari rebels and the like, and I had been charged with protecting the heir (as we had been close friends since childhood and trusted one another). Thus I too was to be trained in basic spaceship command and placed in command of an Executioner-class frigate (of course as an individual in servitude I was to listen to my Holder and was kept in line by strict rules). My job would have been to check the scanner regularly for any potential assassins or pirates and, if needs be, sacrifice myself and my ship in order to protect my Holder's heir.

I never had the opportunity to do this job. I was still in training at the young age of seventeen when YC110 rolled around and the violent events regarding the Starkmanir tribe and their protectors rocked the Mandate. The Mandate's government had been harboring Starkmanir tribesmen, and when this was discovered the Empire's Chamberlain (at the time, Karsoth) was not a bit pleased. Of course at the time I knew nothing of the political events taking shape around me, but they certainly affected me.

When the great golden ships came into Khankenirdia II's orbit I was at a tech school for servants, studying to be a pilot-guardian. The school was just a under a hundred kilometers from the plantation and my Holder's manor. I never did see the mighty lasers that scorched the earth and killed my family, my Holder, and my entire way of life. I also never heard from the heir I was assigned to protect (though I know as a fact he had been in space as part of a test flight that morning; I omit all names in these writings in order to protect his family line, should he still be out there somewhere). With no Holder or no heir to claim me as his servant, I was effectively free. My life was suddenly devoid of meaning; my entire life had been devoted to serving a single family. Where was I to go and what was I to do?

A Somewhat Brief Autobiography (Part 1)

Before I begin my rants on the GalNet, I must first introduce myself..from the beginning. My name is Rek Jaiga. I was born in YC93 in the Ammatar Mandate (specifically, Khankenirdia II). I grew up in the long-sacred bonds of slavery to a Holder (who I shall not name in this entry, because of his heroic sacrifice for the Starkmanir. The Empire would surely retaliate by shaming his heirs.) of military background. My father served as an electrician and all-around handyman for the manor, and my mother was renowned as an excellent financial bookkeeper and number-cruncher (all very respectable positions of servitude, I might add).  I myself had been tasked with caring for my master's Slaver hounds, which was easy enough so long as the hounds were in any mood other than angry or irate. As with most indentured families in the community we attended religious services at the local chapter of the Ammatar Church. My Holder was a bit eccentric and archaic, but kind enough. He actually went out of his way to teach me some bits of an older Amarrian education system known as the "trivium" which was composed of grammar, rhetoric, and logic. In retrospect this was unusual for a Holder to be so kind to an individual slave, but I later found out why.  It all was a quiet but enlightening existence in a Tsula Plantations manager's home.