Liason

            

A Station on the first moon of the seventh planet holds typical Minmatar station. On the main level however is an open court with lanes of open kiosk style eateries and vendors of all sorts. Produce wares and trinkets from the ends of New Eden. The outer walls of the main concourse hold various permanent establishments that include mostly upper scale restaurants, shops and bars. This is a pretty standard from one Minmatar station to the next. You can find such similar places on Gallente stations but nothing of the magnitude and variety as found at this one.

This particular station held the headquarters for the Minmatar Tribe Vherokior Tribal Treasury. As such it is not visited by pod pilots as much as the other stations in this system. For the best meals or freshest long limb roses in this cluster it can’t be beat. If you are a pod pilot looking to go unnoticed this is a safe bet to dock here. Not many pilots outside the tribes dock here but enough to keep suspicions down. Yes, an excellent place to hold face to face meetings without much notice. A place to make the kind of deals no one needs to know about.

Another advantage was meeting on the main. On this station all the vendors we of the Vherokior Tribe. The Vherokior people where be shrewd to deal with but they like Isk and were very adept at avoiding legal complications. They also are very good at keeping secrets. Soku knew he picked the right spot. It did not hurt that his cousin owed one of the more prominent bars on the main The Wayward Snail. Soku smiled at the thought of the name, a parody of an old drifter sentiment. Soon his guest would arrive.

This was more than a job interview he thought. Not only do I have to sell my skills I have to sell the space as well. Soku knew his value to the new possible employer would be minimal. He stood near the door and tried to hide his nervousness. Although capuleers were common place on space stations it was not every day that an average joe could sit and discuss business with one. In fact it was almost unheard of.

Soku had spent most of his life in space, he knew no matter the race, Pod pilots were a flighty lot without concern for others unless they could either profit from it or get some entertainment value. His heart skipped a beat when he sighted a small procession making its way through the shops heading his way. Several large Brutor males, obviously body guards surrounded two men and a woman as they casually examined the wares of one vendor to the next. The most unusual part we not the bodyguards, which was common practice by most pod pilots. Nor was it the stocky Gallentean pilot in a group of Matari. There was a man and woman whose general appearance dress was Vherokior, however they were very tall and muscular, very unusual traits for this tribe.

He knew his guest were of Minmatar origin and ran a private pilot corporation. Soku did not know they were Vherokior. The pit of his stomached dropped. While his connections and knowledge of this system was advanced and notable, in comparison to the CEO of a Capsuleer corporation it was minor. But to someone surly from this area, what good would he be to a capsuleer who undoubtedly had the same, similar and probably better connections and knowledge of this system? Hi heart raced a little as he tried to get his emotions under control. The party approached and passed him as they entered the bar giving him no notice. That’s when he noticed the male Minmatar had the tattoo that was only given to Vherokoir council members. This meant he was their clan representative. Soku’s nervousness quickly turned to fear. He swallowed hard. I must not let this deter me in any way, I can do this he said to himself.  He turned and followed them in.

Not a word was spoken as Soku’s cousin directed the party to a large booth towards the rear of the establishment. The layout of the bar was much the same as many other establishments thought the cluster. The lighting was dim as customary in most Matari venues. The décor was decidedly Vherkior and had differing scenes of caravans’ from planet side to space. A large etching centered over the main bar was of a snail perched on a rock surrounded by water. The center was filled with table and chair while the three outer walls had circular booths with heavy read curtains hanging to each side. Two of the guard took up stations by the entrance the other two on either side of the booth.

The booth had enough seating to accommodate eight normal size people. However the group of three took up fully half the boot. The Gallentian sat to the right. His appearance was none descript of any Gallente he was plainly dressed in a typical captains uniform. The Vherkior male centered himself in the booth. His dark and brooding appearance coupled with Tribal tattoos that showed him not only a CEO of a corporation but as a clan elder. His dress too was simple, combat fatigues, simple black shirt and leather vest with buckles popular with Minmatar pilots.

 The Woman sat to his left. Her strawberry colored hair was pulled into braids close to her head in a Brutor fashion not uncommon with Vherkior females. Her emerald colored eyes were piecing. He knew she could see right through him. While not beautiful by any standard she had a regal air about her and she was not unpleasant on the eye. She was dressed similarly to her companion with a nearly shear shirt under her vest. Her tattoos showed that she not only was an accomplished combat pilot, former Republic Fleet, and related to the man to her right. Cousin or sister he could not be sure.

Although very thin she was overly muscular another odd trait for both a pod pilot and Vherokior women. All three in fact appeared to very athletic. The few pod pilots he had seen appeared soft, presumably from hours sitting in a pod. The Gallente spoke first, “Soku Kret I assume won’t you please sit”. “Thank you I will” Soku took a seat centering himself as much as possible in front of the three. “I trust you find the accommodations suitable” The woman spoke her voice was dusky and a little gravely “They meet expectations” A waiter approached the table with a bottle of spiced wine. She poured a sample and handed it to the man in the center. He barley tasted it and nodded approval. All remained silent while she poured a glass for each and then walked away.

The Vherokior male spoke for the first time. Soku could tell this was a man who commanded the attention of those who could hear him, and that his voice was one that could carry far if required. “Do you know the reason we contacted you?” Soku nodded “Sir your corporation is seeking to extend operations to this system. My understanding is that you need a liaison to assist in facilitating that. In addition you need someone who knows the star system cluster and the people.”

The Gallente spoke “so you know who we are”. Soku had to work hard to contain his nerves. This delicate dance was not a mystery to those who deal in the trade game. He knew full well the basis of getting this job was based more on his his ability to gather intelligence and to know what he should and should not divulge rather than any knowledge he already possessed. To get this deal of a lifetime he had to work hard to find out what they desired and then figure out how to deliver it without being told. He had never been contacted directly, even the meeting details were not communicated to the trio directly “Yes sir I also understand that even in a secure place it would be prudent to not mention names.”

A dead pause followed for a few second that seem like minutes until finally Soku was about to speak when he heard. “you have impressed me thus far, do continue” The Vherokior males words seemed to roll off his tongue and if it was not for the importance of the situation his voice would have put him at ease. “Very well” he pushed a chip into a slot in the table as he did this his cousin touched a button under the bar. The thick curtain moved soundlessly on a track in the ceiling and enclosing the booth blocking not only light but sound both ways. The curtain also had a technology embedded in its fibers that would have block or distorted all transmissions in or out that would have come from any type of eavesdropping device.

Soku waived his hand above the table and a three dimensional hologram of the Teonusude system floated above the table. Soku took a short breath measuring his words carefully. “It is common knowledge that the Molden Heath region is a gate way to the lawless space known as the great wildlands. From any direction you must pass through The Fittakan constellation to get there. This has made Teon as it is commonly called, a minor trade hub” Soku waved his hand and the hologram map gave way to readouts of the local market. “Those who cannot go in higher security space put their commodities on the market here and traders come to transport it to other trade hubs.” As Soku spoke subtle motions directed the holo map to reappeared and  zoom out first to a three region area then back in on to show Modlen Heath resting finally on the Fittakan constelation. Little lines showed the jump gates from one system connected to the other.

 “As you can see Teonusude has five gates. A regional gate to the Heimatar region.” Soku highlighted the gate and zoomed out to show the next region. “Rens the Minmatar trading center is only five jumps”. The other two gates of next importance is the gate to Bosean and Gelfiven. These are the routs to low sec and beyond.” Suko paused for a moment manipulating the map back to the solar system. “The system of Gulfondi is one jump and is both Republic Security and Republic Fleet stronghold providing a lot of work for interested pod pilots. Dead space acceleration gates have allowed members of the Angel Cartel undetected access to the systems in the cluster”.

Soku made another subtle hand motion zooming back into just the Teonusude system. “The Teonusude system has 8 planets and 52 moons. It is secure empire space so moon mining is out of the question. However ample places for pilot owned stations. It has twenty nine asteroid belts containing plagioclase, scordite, veldspar and omber with one belt entirely made up of glacial mass ice, suitable for refining. Between the six stations ample refining and manufacturing facilities exist along with a host of other features and services including cloning services.” Soku paused and looked each of his listeners in the eye “This is all information you really do not need me to repeat.” Soku paused he was calming now and finding himself in his element

“I am sure that you already know that most of the belts, and planets for that matter, have heavy competition for resources. I have compiled a list of corporations, both those with holdings in system and Capsuleer Corps that operate in this area. I have highlighted the ones that have planetary mercenary divisions. The locals tend to go about their own business with politics seemingly avoiding pilot involvement or concern with pod pilot or private corporations. However this is changing as more and more pilots are setting up automated operations on the planets. The Amarrian pilots have been known to show little or no regard for existing colonies.” Soku noticed the woman stiffen at as he mentioned Amarrians. Most pilots take over and bypass operations by existing colonies leaving a large workforce unemployed. It is believed this growing dissatisfaction among workers is why the Sansha made the raids in this system last year.

He gave a slight pause to let things sink in before continuing. “I have the ear of the right people and a finger on the pulse of the politics in the region. It would not be difficult to garner support to take over operations on most planets.” Soku stopped pausing for effect this time. “With the location of Teonusude so close to lawless space there are a lot of questionable pilots in the area that keep security forces busy, If one does not draw attention some actions can go unnoticed.” Soku stopped his presentation and the hologram disappeared with a small wave of hand. The male in the middle looked first to the Gallente, then to the woman then back to Soku.

While his expression was pleasant the look in his eye almost made Soku wither on the spot. “I believe we are ready to go to the next level.” The entire party started to rise and the curtain parted as if on cue. As they were all leaving the table the woman reached out and grabbed Sokus arm. With the other hand she deftly pressed a small device against his arm and he felt a slight pinch. She let go of his arm. A sudden wave of nausea swept over him and he heard her husky voice as she towered over him “you have all you need. Now find your way to the Republic University in Gerek”

…

Soku felt good as he looked out the window porthole of the Interbus stellar transport. Hours before he thought his life was over. Looking down at the new tattoos forming in the skin on his arm he knew in many ways it was. A new life awaited him now. His gaze looked over the nebula in the distance he knew where he was heading, the sky would look different. But Soku knew he would return. His dreams answered.

The Battle at Abudban II

Nofearion scanned the archives of matters in the ether of the communications net as he often did while for waiting departure from a major trade hub. This one had the most traffic in New Eden. Jita 4-4 always had lots of everything and was the major crossroads of all trade. He looking for tidbits of information or trends that may, or may not, tip him in the direction of Isk. Hints of conflict in any outlying area where the price of ammo or weapons my increase enough to prove profitable.

A little DED report caught his attention. An old report from long ago back when Sansha first started testing his technology that would open a man made wormhole into a solar system with the purpose of enslaving populaces living on planets below. How times have changed Nofearion thought. Admittedly in the time since this report Sansha incursions were becoming profitable to the point of being welcomed by the capsuleer community. Gazing over the report his suspicion was being confirmed that the incursions were becoming perhaps a little too profitable.

A result of specialized defense tactics, and ships used by capsuleer fleets in current defense fleets, general industry and production was down and the price of ore was increasing. Not due to an increase in demand, but to the decrease in ore production. Simply miners were no longer mining. They had found more profit in shooting at Sansha ships and reaping the bounties offered by Concord.

Having just left a tavern on the station where some pilots who used to trade the raw unrefined ore to him had switched from the dull drudgery of sitting in a roid belt to fighting the now predicable battle with Sansha forces. The talk was that as always Sansha had become predictable.

Predictable to the point where the incursions where be drawn out to increase the overall bounty take. As immortals they seemed to forget the cost in human lives. While the pilots were getting fat with Isk, Sansha was able to harvest more slaves as incursions that initially were repelled in hours where now lasting days sometimes even weeks.

The capsuleer community had new found wealth easily obtained and Sansha ships seeming as endless as Concords wallet. Most were not mindful that the recent drops in production across the board had a cost. The cost was increased prices associated with dropping availability or ships and the equipment that kept them running. With a half formed thought the holoscreen switched from the Sansha  DED report to ORE financials of the past month showing telltales of economic slowdown. After confirming his thoughts he switched back to the DED report. Nofearion had to admit that he and his Corporation were profiting from his foresight of the market trends. However this report was chilling. Was this a foretelling of a bigger strategy? A trap set by Sansha, one so subtle and complex as to be missed by intelligence communities in all four empires?

Nofearion had risen to where he was because he had the knack to see the whole picture and read the cause and effects of events and trends. Some of the Vherkior council members had even accused him of being more mystic than drifter with predictions that gave the impression he could see the future. In truth, a careful study of events and market trends combined with historical records that allowed him to make uncanny accurate predictions.

The report itself was filled as part of DED investigations into the effectiveness of involving Capsuleers in the defense of secure space. The DED as a division of Concord were developing strategies to best encourage Capsuleers to defend empire space. This report was a stark reminder that the current incursions may be a little too easy, a little too rewarding. What was Sansha's end game?

DED report 02.568gd. 002 xx

The Battle at Abudban II

Sansha incursion forces into Abudban system, Ortner Constellation Heimatar region

Pilot interview

Saffear Stormrage "Fear Singer"

Squad leader Minmatar Defense Union

Was a Mad house, I am telling you, a mad house.

No organization, Hell, I imagine that is what the Sansha was hoping for, a free for all. Thousands of them, Silent not a word except for the slave. Planet side must have been worse, whole communities ripped up, captured and enslaved by those inhuman demons.

The Amarrians enslaved my people long ago. We always maintained our individual identities. Keeping hope alive eventually broke free of their chains.

The Sansha, rotten bastards, all they do not simply imprison you, they take your soul and everything that makes you human. They take everyone Minmatar, Amarr, Gallente, Caldari. All are given the same reprogramming treatment.

The battle? Yes the battle. My nerves are still shot and that is no small matter.

Friendlies, or at least as friendly as capsuleer privateers can be, locked my ship up twice by accident. Some others Pilots were not as lucky as I, they lost their ships to friendly fire.

Fuck! It was hair raising, Silonneri Balginia was the there, her voice ringing on the comms rallying all the clans, then that Amarrian bastard showed up. Dasirel! Things did not get much better after that. For as many as we destroyed we were taking major losses, We, The Capsuleers! Can you imagine losing our advanced ships to inferior antiquated technology! Their numbers were huge, our organization, was very poor but what can you expect out of a bunch of privateers. Whoever dreamed to organize a completely volunteer capsuleer fleet had to be insane!

At one point Minmatar and Amarrians started shooting at each other forgetting of the menace stealing our life blood from the planet below. Then the slave showed up in her battleship. A ship aptly named the nightmare; sure I had plenty of them fall below the fire of my guns. This one was different. She was a capsuleer herself. Now I understood the gravity of the situation, these demon machines were not just chemical clockworks. Half human half machine and controlled by one of us, one of the immortals! I was not the only one to reach this epiphany. Soon all forgot about what now seemed trifling differences, all forgot about rivalries, all focused fire on that one ship, that one threat to our existence! Of life as we know it. If the Sansha can take one of us! One of us! A captive, enslaved, take away our immortality and make it their own.

A Living hell awaits us, they will return, when they do, Capsuleers will be leading them.

Crisis of Faith

Satie waved her hand in front of a spot on the wall and the door for compartment holding cleaning supplies wisped shut. Satie walked across the room catching a glimpse of herself in a small mirror sitting on a table. Even after all these years she still felt naked in the skimpy and thin garments her master made her wear. Should count yourself lucky, her conscience reminded her. A different time and in a different place slaves would be given only filthy rags of rough woven cloth that chapped in tight spots leaving sores in the skin that would never heal.

Satie reached her destination in the living quarters and set about her task of cleaning and polishing little figurines lining several small shelves built into the wall. “Lucky indeed” she though aloud. Lucky her master was a spaceship captain, and as such was hardly ever home. Lucky she was not alone. Three other women shared her fate with her. All four were of the same race and came from similar backgrounds. Having others to lament the past and to find comfort with made life as a slave slightly more bearable. There could have been worse fates. Keeping her faith was the key to survival. She as well as the others knew that if they took their own life they would not find peace on the other side.

Cleaning a particular grotesque figure of two female bodies twisted in a lovers embrace she felt bile rise to the back of her throat. To be surrounded by such depravity. At least she thought, even with all the indignities her master put upon her, she was not forced to commit any vile sins of the flesh. She knew of other slaves that toiled in hot fields under a brutal sun. Others that worked endless shifts of manual labor never saw the light of day. All under scrutiny of Amarrian guards and threat of a whip if they were lucky, worse if they were not. Still it would seem that her master went out of the way to find ways to make her uncomfortable even in the posh surroundings she found herself.

Satie figured the thin gold collar around her throat. Sometimes the means of keeping slaves captive and obedient may not be as harsh, but could be as painful. She looked up and could see the little camera in the corner of the room, camera’s everywhere. Her mind spoke again “At least this master does not believe in Vitoc”. She could not suppress a shudder at the thought of being dependent on a drug where even mild withdrawals resulted in cramps and convulsions and after a small amount of time resulted in death. Even if should could slip the collar and leave the suite of compartments where would she go? She was locked on a space station situated above a planet in a constellation across the known universe from her home.

Even if she could find passage to the planet below it was populated by those who despised her race and would likely violate her flesh and torture her before giving her death. Her pale skin and genteel features a tattle tale of her race would give her away. She could not hope to blend in with the larger darker skinned inhabitants. “A spaceship then” the little voice in her head sounded boldly. Even then how many star systems from her home was she? Satie could not fathom.

“A crisis of faith then?” Her mind pounded, her heart skipped a beat. Deep down Satie knew she likely deserved the life she now led. How many times did she commit atrocities in the name of her faith? Was it her reliance on faith that fate now found her a slave? A woman, who once commanded respect, had large possessions of land and wealth, a holder over a large population of Matari flesh! On whose backs she maintained her family’s fortunes. On whose flesh she forced her every whim. Her faith gave her the right to do with them as she pleased. She paused and regret stabbed her in the abdomen like a knife. Satie thought and how many a cold nights did she submit to her own depravity.

Satie slumped, the battle inside was starting to make her shake on the outside. Oh that fateful day! She found herself remembering how giddy she was. It was her first trip aboard a starship. Bound for the Amarr home worlds, a glorious trip where she hoped to finally meet the empress. Why she continually asked herself was she not allowed to die in the fiery death of that ship. Why was it she was saved only then made a slave by that capsuleer Vherokior bitch! An image of the tall female savage's tattooed face filled her mind as she remembered her mocking voice as she placed the pain collar around her neck. How dare that Minmatar slut call her a slave! She was of noble birth! A HOLDER! Why did no one try to come to her rescue! A sigh escaped her lips as she trembled both in anger and anguish.

She knew the answer. As always in the society where she was once such a central figure, an Amarr holder with great power and influence. Of course there were others who would not miss her, others who would step in with a plea for faith on their lips as they usurped her lands and wealth, and her position in society. Others who could not wait for the bodies of their brethren to cool before going about dividing what remained. Satie knew all too well what was happing in her absence. Was it not the sudden disappearance of her Aunt that led to her taking her position as holder of the family’s possessions and political seat?

The door to the compartment opened and a slender young woman entered the room. Satie looked up and watcher her approach. She was as beautiful as any Amarr goddess could be and appeared to float across the floor in a graceful manner. The long sheer panels of her outfit slipped around her body in an intentionally erotic fashion that made Satie blush for her. The Woman’s name was Amanda. Her outfit matched Satie’s. Amanda drifted over to Satie putting an arm around her. “Another crisis” Amanda’s voice was quite and silky smooth but still held power and authority common among holders. Satie could only shake her head as she felt shame for showing weakness in front of someone else. She felt the woman’s arm close around her shoulders. “We must maintain our faith”. Satie collapsed in the woman’s embrace as she broke down into tears.

Ship captain crew

Saffear looked over the railing at the old Tempest class battleship docked just beyond. Gazing along her length at the mass of girders and steel. She still showed signs of the old wounds healed during her time in the maintenance bay. Scorch marks and shell craters dotted the hull giving an almost camouflaged look though the rust colored red of the ship. Peering in the few windows Saffear could see her crew scurrying around like ants in an ant hill. She guessed they had heard of the pending mission by now and were prepping for departure. Can't blame them she thought, The Dark Horizons had been docked nearly a year after duty skirmishing with attack forces of a large alliance bent on destroying all in their path. The ensuing battles had left the old ship badly damaged and leaking air. Shortly after the engagement that had left most of the crew dead or dying, her brother decided to reassigned her to smaller ships and using hit and run tactics. She liked the smaller faster ships.....ships with less crew members on board. Still the Dark Horizons was a good solid ship.

Part of her was exited to get aboard. Still another part of her, a deep place in the back of her mind stiffeld her lungs with short baited breath. A dark dread came looming up in the front of her mind. Not for herself. Saffear was a resilient and immortal, a pod pilot. The thought caused her to looked down and stoke the newly cloned skin of her arm, the nanites were still working their magic recreating the tribal tattoos Saffear had earned. she often wondered how much of her self remained in the new clone each time she re awoke from death. Would her memories remain hunting her dreams be still feel as fresh as before? She closed her eyes taking herself back to a different time, a different ship, a ship and crew from her past. It was Saffears first real combat ship. That was named the same as her call sign "Fear Singer", well that was an accidental coincidence. Most of the crew on board at that time had been with her since her academy days.

Most of the seasoned Republic Fleet pilots scoffed at her and said it was bad luck to fly a ship named after you or to get to familiar with you crew. Pod Pilots can be a superstitious lot at times. It was a tough ship, and Fear Singer had a top notch precision crew. As with most capsuleers after a time Fear Singer was lost in a battle fighting pirates along some trade rout. So many ships lost. Fearsinger was lost at least over a just cause, ridding the world of some dirty slavers, She thought. and not over possession some dirty, empty, barren, piece of worthless, lifeless space. A tear slid slowly down her cheek as she heard in her mind once again the last few seconds of her crews screams as the ship was sliced apart by Amarrian laser fire. Her only salvation in that fight was her pod, and that too barley escaped. The audio recorder was damaged in the final seconds of the tough ships existence. It remained stuck in playback mode looping the last seconds of the ships life to her ears for nearly an hour until she could dock up and leave her pod. Many times during that horrific trip she came close to self destructing her pod during the journey. Other pod pilots had done so in similar circumstances. That would have been her first clone jump.

The memory faded as she turned and headed back into her quarters looking up the halo screen. It was filled with the family corp logo steaming words ordering her back to work for the Minmatar Republic until the corporation could regroup. “its only been three damn days” she murmured aloud. How can we pull out that fast she thought. But as she did so she already knew the answer. We are Vherkoior and her brother was a clan elder. As such he was privy to intelligence she would rather not know.

At the time the Non Aggression Pact whit her corporations allies was broken, She herself was leading a fleet to assist the turncoat bastards to help defend their space. It was a trap of course. She tapped a key in the air and the halo screen switch to a recording of her receiving a medal for saving the fleet she was leading. Looking down she spat “yes save a fleet and a whole lot of ships, only to have the pilots flee and hide like little dogs”. Suddenly she noticed breathing behind her. Saffear still unused to the fresh clone tensed all her muscles her eyes falling upon her sword in its decorative case just one click in front of her. Then she relaxed as she recognized the breathing of your younger brother Rysic. “yes you saved your fleet, then you rallied another one to defend our space, very admirable except that left you on your own” he spoke softly. Saffear cringed at the thought. Some fellow pilots had accused her of doing a suicide run, one last fit of defiance! and it fit is was her rep to never go down without a fight. With one notable omission, she would never put her crew in harms way for selfish reasons.

Truth be told she was scouting the enemy positions. She had found and successfully avoided the two large known fleets giving pilots names, the corporations involved, and even ship types. Current Intel at the time only spoke of two fleets. It was a big surprised when she jumped into the next system though a jump gate right smack into a merc gate camp. Sensing her anger Rysic put a firm hand on her sisters shoulder. "For someone with thick skin, you sure are letting things bother you a bit". before he could completely finish Saffear whirled around taking “Gunny’s” hand twisting him around with his are painfully behind his back.

To his credit Gunny did not cry out, or even wince at the maneuver but his baited breath told her it hurt. “Com’on sis I did not sell you out , Hell Nof won’t even let me near a ship with guns on it! you know I would always have your back” Saffear let a out little giggle before letting him go. “I need a drink and your are buying” she pointed a finger at Gunny who sheepishly followed her older sister out of her captain quarters.

Minmatar National Coucil debate on Triblaism; Stromrage Clan response

As I have listened to the differing discussion about what tribalism is and how it is affected by slavery I have noted one thought that has been left out.
As Matari, look to our history before the time of capsulers, before the time of the Ammar. Individual families were tied together in clans, these clans made up tribes and the tribes made up the people. In our diversity we found strength. In our differences we found conflict. As much as I despise the Ammar, many of us deal on a regular basis with holders and the items they produce. Any Minmatar pilot who flies Ammar ships or uses Ammar technology could be said to be helping further the cause of Slavery. But that is just semantics. In truth Tribalism is loyalty to your tribe, to your clan and and to your family. It is who you are. As a pilot plying my trade deep in space sometimes it is hard to remember my roots. My corporation is filled with a diversity of pilots that range from all races. Does the fact that I employ races outside my tribe lesson me as a tribalist? I think not. Does that fact that I do not tie myself to my home world lessen me as a Matari? I think not. With me, my family, my clan we take our tribal values with us, it is unmistakable it is who we are as a people. If you have to question your tribalism or your nationalism then you have lost your connection to who you are.
Nofearion
Stormrage Clan
Tribal elder