No one is coming. It's up to us.
21 May 2017Isaiah Evanson
<<Begin recording>>19MAY3303 // BEAGLE POINT
"I have loved the stars too dearly to be fearful of the night."
Those were Kahina's words here over a year ago. They're from a poem - The Old Astronomer - and one that's rather fitting considering her fate. It was part of her... sermon here when the Distant Worlds expedition arrived at the edge of the galaxy.
It's dark here. Darker than anything I've ever seen. I cut the lights off in the ship and tried to see if there was anything beyond, but it was like staring into the abyss. There is nothing else out here. I have never seen the darkness so... pure. You could go mad looking into it. It's such a strange contrast with the core and Sagittarius A*, where all around is nothing but light.
I'm trying my best to take in the sights and burn them into my soul because I doubt I'll ever come back this way again. I've seen many things, but none quite so profound as the absolute blackness above me.
I think about her words - Kahina, I mean - as I sit here, looking up at the nothing beyond. Phisto says I've been on a vision quest. Getting to the bottom of things. Figuring out where I stand, where my place is in this cosmic drama we call life. Sounds silly saying it out loud, but he's right.
I have loved the stars too dearly to be fearful of the night. Comforting words - but just that. Words.
Force will carry my reason. Action will demonstrate my resolve.
The logs Rebecca left behind - I keep listening to them. Listening to every word she says. Every time I do, a sense of dread comes over me. I think I know who she's referring to.
The Pilots Federation.
They are the superpower in the galaxy. Above the Federation, above the Empire and the Alliance and the independent factions and minor powers and their petty squabbles. They work in secret, manipulating events as they see fit. Galnet, the bounty system, Universal Cartographics and system permits, the fucking currency - it's all controlled by the Pilots Federation. Even the software in our ships belongs to them. Proprietary gear.
More questions arise. Why would any of the superpowers yield so much control to an independent organization like the Pilots Federation? It goes against every survival instinct, against our very nature to give control to people we don't know. The old United Nations, on Earth, couldn't even get the nations of the world to agree to anything.
What makes the Pilots Federation so goddamn special?
They are playing the long game. If they were the ones behind the Dynasty Expeditions - using Sirius Corp and other organizations as proxies, as is their M.O. - then they've been playing this game for a very long time indeed.
Of course, I have little solid evidence to work with. I could spend hours and hours going on about the things I feel implicate them in this... conspiracy.
But who will listen?
The Pilots Federation exists because of its secretive and exclusive nature. Millions of people become "Commanders" and never question the institution that gave them that title. Why would they? The promise of fame, of fortune, of notoriety and that coveted Elite title. Those fucking wings. The bane of my existence. The reminder of all of my sins.
My guilt embodied is another man's badge of honor.
The man I met at Citi Gateway - Grant - he said something that stuck with me. Said something about the old ways. He didn't mean how to fly a ship. He meant something else, something more.
It seems that when the Pilots Federation was in its infancy, the title of Commander actually meant something. It was indeed something worthy of recognition. Being Elite meant something too - meant you were more than merely a killer or a hired gun. Commanders were supposed to epitomize the human spirit - pioneers, warriors, scholars. The best of the best. But now look at us. Look at me. We are all pawns in their game.
Every war we fight is sponsored by them. Every appeal for information, for goods, for security - they call on us and we come to them without a second thought. And nobody dares to question it. Nobody even thinks to.
Become Elite. Become gods among men and live eternally. Now say you are free.
We are not free.
We are their private army. We execute their will without question. And we ignore what's coming. Bread and circuses.
And who do you think they'll send when the time comes? Who will they ask to spill blood and sacrifice their lives and fortunes when they flee from the bubble?
Us.
I could be wrong. I could have it completely backwards. Maybe the Pilots Federation is doing the right thing. Maybe there's something even beyond them. But the truth is... no one with that kind of power happens upon it accidentally, nor do they satisfy themselves with merely wielding it.
Tenim taught me that.
Something has to happen. Something needs to change. I have to do something - find people I can trust and try to prepare as many people as I can. Time is working against us.
If the Thargoids are what are coming to our doorstep, we might have months - if that. When the powers that be flee the bubble, who'll be left? What do we do then?
We save as many as we can. And we hunt down those who abandon us to die for them.
But first we have to break the shackles the Pilots Federation has upon each and every one of us. I'll find a way - somehow.
No one is coming. It's up to us.
<<End recording>>