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Chapter 1: El fin justifica los medios
![[Image: rUAAqoX.png]](https://i.imgur.com/rUAAqoX.png)
The Hispania, once our dearest home, our sign of hope fading away, a doomed existence and another tragedy amongst the ever-entropic dark space.
Our history as a species is known amongst many as self-destructive, for even at the brink of peace, there is always a spark of tyranny amongst those who wish for nothing more than to simply be. Our history, the more tarnished name given to us by our stellar brethren, the history of the greatest and largest agency of organized piracy, our origins as a civilization, the history of my people, the “Corsairs” of “Omicron Gamma”.
Thus, fate had us leave our dying home, the Hispania along with our friends and pod-mates who refused to leave her in the belief that the life support will sustain them, an admonished fate awaited those souls, once my dearest friends, now my hated enemies. Yet one will never understand the roots of chaos that entangle our two civilizations in the bowls of chaos undivided.
A planet our forefathers saw, capable of sustaining life they said, Crete they named. An existence we shall have as promised even in this darkest hour. There it was again, that spark of hope. Yet as we made planetfall, a grim dark reckoning awaited my people. Our nightmare was only just beginning.
The records of what my people did to survive are scarce from this point forwards but a few things were made clear from whatever I could scrap together, we had little to no farmable land. For a planet capable of holding life, the basic necessity of life to exist was scarce. A death world, a tomb for my people to slowly die in. Such a miserable existence did my forefathers lead. While we festered and suffered in the mud to give some meaning to our existence as nothing more than a feudal species, our brethren amongst the stars of the other sleepers, we hoped would find us before my people reached a tipping point of desperation and suffering.
The strongest and bolder individuals amongst my people took it amongst themselves in these times of desperation to stave away the growing tides of anarchy. We were on the verge of total collapse and there was nothing preventing my forefathers from ceasing to exist. A feudal civilization we once were, a space-faring civilization we are today, yet a feudal life my people still lead today.
Eventually, they did find us. An unfortunate discovery for those Rheinlander pioneers when they touched down on our tomb-world. For my forefathers heeded not their sentience but their primal feral instincts to survive. Thus, marking our first solid step into this grim future for my people. The instinct to survive had dampened our forefather’s ability to make wise decisions. Their actions are the precursor to what you see today, what simply marked the birth of the great plague that would soon embark on spreading through Sirius.
As the elders of Crete reminiscing this dawning say, “El fin justifica los medios” that is, “The ends justify the means”.
Chapter 2 : A heart shaped rose
She may have treated us ill at first but we soon realized how much of a mother she is to us. Perhaps one day, we can bring true life to this planet, a tribute to her harsh yet caring nature. Yet, while the planet herself brings a tone of the harsh reality of our lives, it’s our own people that have turned it into the tragic nightmare our people are forced to survive in.
While the people were once united in their primal instinct to survive thus tarnishing our name forever with the thrills and rewards of piracy, they never saw the treachery of their own leaders growing amongst them. A space faring civilization we became, the potential to become better was presented to us with the ability to leave this ruthless world we had come to call home and perhaps reconnect with our stellar brethren. Sadly, that would be a sealed-off deal considering my people just thrust a dagger through what could have potentially been our salvation in the form of the Rheinland expedition. We stood united in the face of our now sudden access to the infinite voids of space once again. Within a few years, we had made several stellar discoveries marking our journey further into our prey’s territories. Thus, began our ravaging of transport convoys for their food and other precious goods, all in the spirited name of survival to eventually just for the glory of conquest and loot. Even then, all our forefathers stood united in this unwarranted slaughter. There was no divide amongst them as people got what they needed to survive but alas, avarice took hold of our leaders now being referred to as the Elders.
For those in power will always seek out more power, their thirst for more turned into a scourge called conquest. For the common man, a simple method of indoctrination via upbringing made them devote to their elders, as such providing the throwable manpower to necessitate our military. A ship being revered over the life of its pilot for the ship was simply more valuable. Plunder after plunder only served to fill the coffers of these so-called Elders while my people, my ancestors wallowed in sweat, blood and battle for the glory of the Empire. What was meant to be our growth as a civilization was just another path into the rot of feudality. Yet even in these pathetic times, the rare few with a talent for ingenuity and engineering, truly those gifted brought us some marvels in the development of Tripoli Shipyard and an advanced art of rapid reverse engineering of plundered salvage. These intellectuals allowed us to keep a hand in the technology race to somewhat match our ship’s armor and firepower with the more advanced ships coming from house space. That spark of hope once again lit itself amongst our people in the form of these unique people however rare they are, perhaps there was still a chance at redemption. Perhaps the newer generations would usher in a more forward and logical thinking leaders to bring us out of this darkness.
A little boy, dirty in appearance and malnourished walked up to a stout, tall and dark man with something in his hands. This man, the head of a familia slowly growing in wealth and power. A family whose descendants lead their people with an iron fist of fear and will yet wise and humble. A rose, the boy handed to him. A peculiar one, so unique in its appearance, so rare that it would fetch a fabulous price on the local markets. Yet there stood this boy, giving it to one who was already fed and well-off. When asked why he’d want to part ways with it, the boy simply told him that he believed in him as a good man, one who would use those credits to only further benefit his people. A spark of hope even in those grim times of feudality, a child willing to part ways with something that materialistic for the greater good.
As the boy ran away into the midst of a crowded street, the man looked at the rose once more with a renewed faith, a Cordoba in blood and mind, he said “ Una rosa en forma de corazón , a symbol of hope. “A heart shaped rose”, a symbol to represent the Cordoba familia, the symbol of the free people, the symbol we fight and die for, the symbol of the Apostatas.
Chapter 3: A means to an end
With each raid into the Omegas and Sigmas came with it a bounty in the form of military salvage for our engineers to explore and re-discover. Scores upon scores of drifting hulks scoured for anything of value that would serve to make our own ships last longer in the field of battle. The smugglers who often visited our world would bring with them the spoils of conflict from their own home systems in the hopes of procuring items we once considered near worthless. Rocks with strange etchings over them, the Elders simply saw no use for these relics of a forgotten past. Neither did we in those dark times, for we handed over the potentiality to bring limitless power to those who didn’t know any better. Virtual super-weapons traded for debris; such were the follies the Empire even to this very day continue to pursue with zest.
Thus, did our ships achieve diversity in technology across Sirius without our own people never needing to leave our contested systems. Yet for all their glory, the Empire was not ready to take on the might of an organized house military. While we plundered their trade convoys, the houses closest to our hunting grounds deemed us a large enough threat to send out their capital class war vessels. Veteran titans of combat that we could not face in our fighters for we lacked the damage to even dent their shielding. An uphill battle began for the Empire, as more and more of our ships fell to these wolfpacks. However, the fates had sent us an opportunity to even the fields of war.
The Order, an offshoot ramshackle of Libertonians and other house pilots entered our home system, not to seek our deaths but to ask for our aid. The Elders in what was a rare display of strategic thinking would only eagerly accept their plea. A miracle from the gods they exclaimed in celebration during the months of alliance that followed with the Order. Our engineers learnt much from their counter-parts in the Order. The Empire with aid from the Order saw to the upgradation of our existing shipyards to begin construction of our very own titan class vessels, the battleships. Yet, the ones we initially helped build were requisitioned by the Order to fight their own enemies. Using their original warship as a template, the ingenuity of our own engineers using this “borrowed” template would bore fruit to what would be considered our first greatest marvel in titan combat, the Murmillo-class battleship.
The Order had proved to be useful, yet we had nothing more to learn from them. We shared no commonality in our respective motivations and furthermore, their usefulness had run its course, so decreed the Elders. Thus, the Order, as quick as they were in requesting our aid, were banished from our contested systems. Their technology, our plunder. Yet the Empire could gain little more than what was staring them proudly - our means to push back at the house fleets. This history proved to return and haunt our own diplomats in the Sigma systems for a short period of time for our resolve shines a new light of trust among our people to our stellar neighbors.
As for the Empire, the Elders see no alliances within the stars, but rather… assets and a potentiality for gain. Your information is your worth lest you seek to become one with the charred remains of your own ship. To them and to the Empire, you are simply a means to an end.
Chapter 4: Tides of change
Such are the tides of change letting us mere mortals realize that nothing is ever constant in our meagre lives. For when a problem is present, a change is but an eventuality to rectify said problem. The Empire has only existed because we the people allowed it. We are its economic powerhouse; we are the ones flying the Empire’s warships and we the people are the ones that bring you Elders the riches and treasures of technology you so desire. Yet for all we do in the service of the Empire, you self-proclaimed leaders of a dynastic tradition treat the common citizen like the filth under your footwear. You place the value of a human life at the lowest category of respect.
Harsh are the laws on our worlds, decrepit lives our people lead. A feudal society at best, one of prehistoric barbarism at its worst. An average life expectancy not even worth mentioning, barren lands lacking any moisture, famine across our vermin infested townships and next to nothing in the form of basic healthcare. For if you are weak, you are useless to the Empire. For the Empire simply decreed that they’d rather have nature run its course with us than waste its resources to change our lives for the better.
A society that has no formal education, for the collective people together lack any particular skill to pass on save for the same phrase, one till now that had almost lost all meaning, “All will be well “. A culture of pure barbarism, trials of combat, rites of passage, cultist activity and the reverence of demonic spirits. To an outsider, we are simply a lost cause. A planet of people once again facing slow annihilation, a reminder to our condition after the bombs disabled the Hispania. The people needed to be reminded of the power they truly hold over the governance of Crete. The people needed a symbol of hope renewed to rally behind, one that shines a bright light into this grim dark existence, one where we attain our birthright to a new beginning as promised by our forefathers on the Hispania.
The citizens of Crete, they held the tables of food you Elders feast on, they are the people who developed your warships and they are the ones who allowed you to sit on the position of power your ancestors once took and we are their voice of freedom demanded.
For we are the Apostatas. We are those citizens of Crete you so callously mistreated for generations upon generations. We are the proud descendants of the Hispania who will enlighten you on the power we citizens hold over your existence and we refuse to have our voices silenced again. A fight awaits you, Elders of the Empire, for we, the Apostatas are an eventuality birthed by the tides of change you so graciously refused to accept.
For all the misery you caused. For all the lives you took. Know this Elders of Crete, Lords of Chaos: You exist because we allowed it… and now you will perish because we demand it.