The Wolves began life as a loose collection of mercenary units and traders, fighting for a variety of personal aims.
Often serving only those who had the largest wallet to pay for their services.
While these groups shared no real bond or true familial or political connection, they did share a common philosophy
and common problem. While they and their spacefaring kin scraped on the boundaries of Galactic society for any sort
of recognition, their employers, who ranged from Emperors and Presidents to lowly system magistrates, were sat
resplendent in finery, benefitting from the hard work of these isolated and individual Commanders.
Truly, only a Pilot's credit balance showed that they had gained any manner of status at all. While their employers,
who did none of the heavy lifting, revelled in the glory and reward of risks taken, or occasionally, lives lost in their
Things continued like this for many years, until a respected warrior, who had grown disillusioned with forever fighting
in other people's wars and never having more to show for it than a larger credit balance and more names added to the
list of the fallen, began to agitate among his fellow Commanders.
His political philosophy was so strikingly simple, and yet, so appealing to the Commanders in fringe space as to
quickly attract a following.
The space lanes operated by these men and women were the veins and arteries of Galactic society. Without them,
trade, commerce and interstellar politics would quickly collapse. Without them, even the vast fleets of the Empire and
Federation would be impotent. Without them, the political thrust of the Alliance would be blunted and rendered mute.
Without the Commanders, these so-called "Galactic Powers" were nothing but a collection of fat, frightened aristocrats
howling into the void of space for someone to listen to them for rewards that they could easily take for themselves.
Truly, the time had come for these unvalued resources to unite, to join together.
This philosophy begrudged the granting of a particular title of leadership, however, the fledgling group bestowed upon
this man the title of Alpha. In their "pack", he would be first among equals.
Soon, literature began appearing in station bars around the fringes of populated space. The name of "the Alpha" was on
the lips of scores of young commanders and veteran pilots alike. As their reputation spread, so did their power. Working
together and with their own direction at last, they could achieve more than ever before. As more and more Commanders
flocked to join the pack, less and less power rested with the traditional powers in those systems as their pleas for
assistance in furthering their agenda went unanswered.
Once enough strength had been gathered, the Alpha called the ever expanding fleet to their new home system of Jonai
and began a strategy to ensure peace. Ultimatums would be delivered to the local powers, that if they wished their cargo
to reach its destination, if they wished their enemies to be destroyed, they would all have to play ball. The Alpha and his
pack could not be so cheaply bought with empty promises. Stations would be ceded, rights would be awarded, a new caste
would rise in Galactic society, that of the Commanders, the lone wolves who were now a pack. The shepherds, protectors,
lifeblood and final judgement of any who wished to venture into the void. To anger them was to invite doom to your people
and your plans.
The lack of independent contractors willing to go against the Wolves quickly saw the capitulation of key local systems and
the landscape of the sector was forever changed by the collective strength of will of previously disparate and rudderless
Commanders, driven only by material gain.
This success brought ever more Commanders to join, attracted by a society which offered them protection, true reward and
enfranchisement rather than servitude and death, paid for only in credits.
As the word spread, wars were fought as they drew the eye of larger and larger powers. But how could a war be fought
against their own fleets, who defected to this new banner with alarming alacrity. There was purpose behind their fervor and
strength of purpose shared by the pack which burned more brightly than the simple will to survive ever could.
In the hearts of every pack member, a conviction had been set in place. No more would the life giving blood which flowed
from system to system, fuelling the very lives of every colony in space, become tamed and obsequious to uncaring masters.
They would master their own future. A future brighter than any star, this was a light that would not and could not die.
"For we are the Wolves of Jonai and we are mighty!"
To bring true freedom to worlds that wish it. Free from the constraints of the Federation, the Corruption of
the Empire, the bureaucracy of the Alliance, and the anarchy of the pirate. The Wolves impose no
governance and only intervene when needed.
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