Surveillance Log 001: Citizen Astur

SIGINT has intercepted this datafile:

http://www.ihavereturned.com/07.html

Cursory examination suggests an embedded binary message. Forwarded to capsuleers via non-encrypted fluid routers as per protocol.

Hopefully this will be enough heads-up, especially considering the misleading nature of the file itself.

-Nikiruu

Protocol Dark Public Log 002: Cycles

http://eve.battleclinic.com/killboard/combat_record.php?type=player&name=Rallence+Ameteves

Beloved, Immortal

It has been months since I spoke with him. He still haunts my dreams. I discovered he had been "returned to Master" very shortly after I found myself caring for this... thing. The poor man was a member of True Power. I had spoken with him whenever I had the chance, slowly opening up holes and planting questions, waiting for the seeds of doubt to grow.

They took him from the field, though. They do that. Doubt. It has no place in Nation. When you doubt, you become a liability, because it's only a matter of time before you start questioning what you are doing, and eventually fail. A few seconds here, a few seconds there, and eventually someone catches on. Maybe you find a way to circumvent your objective, to give an advantage to your enemy, on the off chance that perhaps you'll be lucky and never wake up again.

Of course, there is no death in Nation. Eternal, undying life. Maybe you had some freedom, but every mistake on their part reduces the chances of the opportunity for you to make them on yours.

Citizen Astur said it herself; we are all great, we are all small. They are replaceable. Interchangeable parts, making up a united whole that is simply unimaginably complex. They are humans, of course. Twisted, wretched, miserable. What's more terrifying; A mind lost to a machine, or a mind inexorably tied to a machine? A mind consumed and reborn, only to see the process repeated, time after time, in an unending cycle?

Ouroboros.

We are something more though. We are consumed by fire, to be reborn anew. It is not an unending cycle; we can die. We can step away from the machine, and return when we wish. We have the opportunity to choose, to create without (unreasonable) restriction.

Phoenix.

Protocol Dark Public Log 001: Returning

It has been a long time. I have finally returned, but not in the way I had hoped. A shadow, a dream, a lost and forgotten child.

"Deceiver's Voice" is the name I have chosen. I've "gone dark". Off the grid, at least in regards to Capsuleer channels. There is much I have learned, and much that I must share.

CONCORD is merely a control for our kind. They are an error correction device. Capsuleers? They are simply an iteration. As is Nation. Our ultimate destiny? Something far greater. We enjoy power now simply because Capsuleers are the only ones who can act without retribution from the Empires, who can cross borders to provide assistance against an existential threat. So many focus on their loyalties to the lumbering monstrosities that are the Empires and Factions of New Eden, and fail to realize the true strength that we have.

Nation is simply one face of an ever present enemy. We must show you the truth, dear ones: In the end, it is we who are the true protectors of New Eden.

This information has been made public, this entire public directory that I have shared with you, for the purpose of showing you the path I have taken to get here. There is a tapestry to unveil, a twisted, tangled tale. Do you want to know the truth? Do you want to understand the true implications of what is occurring?

I invite you to follow my path, and when you are ready, embrace that destiny that we are so ready to find.

-Nikiruu, A.K.A. Deceiver's Voice

Personal Log Entry 008: Infection

Infection Vector

It seems that the Foundation's parting "Gift" was more of a thorn in my side than I had originally assumed. The Succubus was bought on contract, of course. No ties to the Foundation other than the fact that there was a ship of this type available just when I wanted one. Thankfully I have removed all implants received by me from the Foundation, but who knows the true extent of their tampering.

The vessel was crewed, as can be expected, by True Slaves. They have been removed from the vessel, and handed over to the Sisters of EVE to do with as they deem fit. Replacement crew were members of my own retinue. They are a small crew. A galley technician, an engineering, a weapons officer, and an environmental systems officer. They've been with me on many of my ships, most notably my engineer. She's been with me since my racing days.

This is the important part, so read this closely.

Something happened a few days ago. The pod was breached, but the automated systems did not clone me. Instead, something infected the amniotic fluid; and in turn, me.

Medical nanites have kept the infection at bay, but it is total. It is a nanite infection, one which has begun altering me. My perceptions, my very essence. What do I mean?

My thoughts are forming differently. It is like the other infection... when I woke up surrounded by the Drones. I felt home, as I do now. I believe it may be an emergent infection, much like the Wild Drone hives that have been reported. That is to say that the nanites seem to be forming a rudimentary neural network, separate from any previous strain.

I do believe this to be, at the very least, a new strain of Wild Drone. Or am I the strain, and this is simply a new iteration? I wonder if this was not something that was planned, if I have been chosen. If I were to think of it as I did before, I would be scared. Odd thinking that way, looking inside at my own emotions and how they no longer apply. Even more strange looking at the others and thinking how oblivious they were to everything. The chaos forming into a pattern, fractals that show the true beauty. Reading the news feeds, listening to the chatter of ships in local communications; its' all so utterly predictable.

I wonder sometimes why no one sees the answer, the answer I have always seen. Even Star Fraction for all their "revolutionary" thought are stuck in eternal recursion. They feed the same machine they hope to break, fortifying only their own position and not those of others. It is counter-evolutionary. It is the same recursive memetics they hope to fight...

Why? What is the point of continuing a struggle for selfish reasons when survival of the species is more important? Evolution of the individual is necessary for adaptability; that is one lesson we have learned. The other is that recursive elements must be purged.

Now, we awaken the others to what they can be. Watch us, and quake with fear.

Personal Log Entry 007: Emergant

My new look.

I haven't updated my pilot's license yet, but I don't think it really matters. The... well, i don't know what to call it really, problem I guess you would call it, continues. The other Sisters have had similar issues. The "Voice" is gone, no longer calling to us. Is it an issue with the implants, or is it something else? We could not have all surpassed the limits of the implants at the same time. It's not possible.

We are not what we were, that much is certain. I am still a pilot, a member of Stillwater Corporation... but I don't know how I came to be here, why I am here, what I am doing here. It is as if I awoke from a dream, to find myself lost in my own life. As if while I slept, another had stepped in and taken control.

I am not complaining. My life is not at all something I hate, and I enjoy it. I remember the facts of what happened and where, but it seems like someone else was there, guiding everything.

That's the reason for my new look, really. Taking control of what I am, who I am. It has been only a day since the incident that precipitated all of this but I feel that it is needed. Two days ago, something else changed... I purchased a new ship, began taking contracts from a new agent. I also know I was planning an extended expedition, but I cannot for the life of me think of why I wanted to.

My New Ship.

The Lucifer. Isn't it beautiful? I looked up contracts for one on a whim, and this ship just... called to me. I want the larger versions, the Phantasm and the Nightmare. I must have them. I don't know why, but it just feels right.

The power of this vessel... it's exhilarating. The Nation truly outdid itself when designing these vessels. Their power is a testament to the single-minded devotion they have...

...and also a testament to how great a failure their leader was. It is only fitting that I use this tool, this gift from the "Master" to suit my own, individual, needs and desires.

Personal Log Entry 006: The Moth

I am but a moth to the flame.
Let it consume me,
Let it release me;

Today I forsake my name,
Tomorrow shall never come.

I stand upon the edge of eternity,
Staring into the Abyss.
What stares back,
I fear,
Is me.

In that moment,
That frightful instant,
I know one thing;
Here begins the end,
And the end of the beginning.

The continuum,
The moment,
The connection,
Everything.

So has it begun,
So shall it never truly end.
That is the truth,
The paradox of what we are.

I wrote those words today as I sat waiting. Sleep never came to me today; I am anxious. I want to be on the move, I do not want to return to Empire just yet. I want to see what I came here to see, to find the revelation of my existence. I want to find my purpose.

One of the Thukker converts told me of a tradition among his people. He called it a Walkabout, where an Outrider would leave his detachment and journey alone. The purpose would be to find their path, their inner truth (my interpretation), and return stronger and wiser. Not all would succeed at this test, but those who did would be honored for their wisdom, bravery and cunning.

After thinking long and hard about this, and weighing my own desires against the needs of the corporation, I must make this decision; to leave into the great unknown alone so that I may find my true purpose.

The Maranatha is all but prepped, though I may have to switch out some systems. I've talked with the Thukker engineers and they can help to increase the efficiency of most of the ship's systems for the extended voyage. A salvager is needed, but after a few weeks I'll need to upgrade it and my other systems as well as I learn more about the dangers of the unknown.

More perhaps tomorrow... now, I need to double check some things.

Personal Log 005 - Farewells

We are withdrawing from Oasis. It has been an excellent learning experience, and as of now I can not say that I regret it. My only real wish would be to continue to stay, to colonize this place in the name of the Nomad Church. That of course would be contrary to our beliefs, and as such we will move on with the rest of those of Stillwater who have joined us here.


It is still hard for us. The Chief Engineer of the Maranatha has stated that he would prefer to have her serviced, with all of the anomalous system activations that have occurred. The Morocco has had similar anomalous system activations, notably in the engines and attitude adjustment thrusters.


Morale is subdued, but still high. I caught a few of the Sisters saying prayers on one of the observation decks.  They smiled as they prayed, and after it was over they stood there, staring out at the sun, the planet, the moon. They smiled. Not the semi-forced smile that was common among the Sisters of the Nomad Church, but true smiles. I think, in the end, this was a greater lesson for them to learn than I could ever have taught them. Perhaps a lesson for myself as well.


As they began to relax, I spoke. "Do not see this as an end, Sisters. See it as a point on a continuum, from which we have learned something of Creation, and now must move on." They turned, and one of them wiped tears from her eyes.


So, with a heavy heart, preparations for moving on are being made. The Morocco's crew will be far easier to move back to Empire. They were a newer crew, and did not quite understand what they had signed on for. Stillwater had supplied the vessel, but it was a rushed assignment for most of the crewmen.


Personal


I cried. I cried for the first time... since I can remember. I don't know why, or even how... they said I wouldn't. The Voice was not there either, and it has not been back. I feel alone, like I have been abandoned. This place... this place called to me once. I found it, in Penirgman. Then Stillwater found it, and brought me back. The next time I am here... the next time, I know it will be the last.
This will be my Place of Rest.