I am, regretfully, not as close to the Maltese people as I may have once been, but I still feel compelled to tell you a tale, for I believe that you may have forgotten it.

It is a tale of a corporation, greedy and vile, venturing forth into territories they did not belong in - the very Edge of the world, the depths of the Omicrons. Taking it upon themselves to carve out a home, carving it directly out of our domain. Of course, there is an implication here, a burden we must all bear: we allowed this. We did not intervene when we still had the opportunity. We let these unwelcome guests, this plague, fester and grow. They built fortresses that would cost us dearly to assault and demolish.

Unfortunately, that is not even the worst of it. Pilots employed by this corporation, often hardened Bounty Hunters from the Houses, actively sought out Maltese vessels. Numerous shipments of the Orange Dream were intercepted and - presumably - destroyed. The tragedy here is twofold: the loss of our precious harvests, of that which makes us who we are. And the loss of something even more valuable: Maltese lives. It matters not how many of these interlopers our aces took with them. Nothing harms our great nation more than the waste of treasured Maltese lives. I believe that you, signore Morales, would fully agree that there is no graver sin one can commit than to take the life of an Outcast.

A sin I personally cannot forgive.

Yet here you are, addressing the proud Maltese nation, calling us to arms, daring to ask us to fight beside our sworn enemies: the Core. This corporation, ever growing in ambition, growing ever more delusional. These days, they refer to themselves as an Empire. Do you not see what that implies? An Empire seeking to expand ever outwards, to conquer its neighbors. An Empire we are allowing to exist, right on our doorstep. A looming threat we refuse to face. No, instead we choose to bury our heads in the sand, to look the other way, believing that if we simply refuse to acknowledge this danger, if instead we cooperate with it, it will not threaten our existence. That it will simply go away of its own accord. A disgusting display of fear, an emotion I believed us all to be above. What I see in you, signore, is a frightened man, allowing his fear to take control, allowing his fear to weaken our proud nation.

I hereby address all proud, fearless Maltese warriors: I do not oppose this culling of the Cretan hordes. No, I support it fully. But do not allow your fear to blind you to the truth: this slaughter must extend, too, to the Core. In doing so, we will weaken not just one hostile Empire, but two. We will remind them who we are. We will remind them that we are not to be trifled with. Take this opportunity to drive a knife into the backs of two of our greatest enemies. And to twist this knife, leaving them with a wound they will not recover from in our lifetimes.