Obligations

The Executors rule continues to fall apart at the seams. That is... Good, I suppose.

...

Father has been pushing me to join the Militia.

I've technically finished what I was asked to do. After completing enough work for Ishukone Watch, I was - a few days ago - able to call in a favor with my agent and get his "offenses", if you can rightly call them that, stripped from the record, alongside an offer for a position of equal influence and pay to the one he originally held. So my family can now once again leave Saisio without fearing for their lives or getting thrown into a corporate cell.

But that is not enough for him, I suppose.

In many ways, in the State, the standing of ones family is more important then money, which has never been even remotely a problem for us even during our "exile" (Though that certainly doesn't stop him from reminding me to send a fair bit of ISK home whenever I have some spare). Father wants me to get involved in the war to catapult us to a position of notability and influence, far beyond what we held when I was growing up.

He told me this was the perfect time  - With the mass resignations and the likely impending collapse of the provist government, it'd be easy to fill the void. He told me how much everyone was depending on me; How what I was doing now would influence our lives for generations upon generations to come. How just I, and I alone, could secure our future, and our rise to prominence.

The whole thing is quite... Surreal, really. I told him that despite his faith in me, I wasn't a very good pilot and couldn't possibly meet his expectations, but he said that even being a Capsuleer was more then enough. And that even if I wasn't particularly skilled, the training software would eventually take care of that problem, alongside the fact that I... Well, "Don't need to worry about getting killed", in his words.

He chuckled after I said that. I'm not sure he really understands.

Regardless, for a while, I was mostly set on doing it. I'd even written up a few applications to various different corporations involved in the protectorate. I'd convinced myself it'd be wise to serve the State, and to protect the Homeworld.

But, well...

I've been talking regularly to another pilot privately, lately, which hasn't happened in quite a while. She's a member of the Sansha's Nation aligned Capsuleer alliance - Natalcya Katla. We get along rather well. I'd almost say we're friends, though the Creator himself would likely cast me into the void for such an appalling naivety, considering she's both a Capsuleer and a member of faction that quite literally abducts people and scoops out their brains, lest I forget.

We talk about a lot of things, though most concern my own neurosis and self-obsession in some manner (Gods, I don't know how anyone can stand me). Philosophical outlooks, a bit of politics, and one... Other subject, but I'll write about that when I'm not already feeling in poor spirits. She has a very interesting outlook, if one I don't quite understand - That the zenith of human societies is the one that exists in space, where people from all origins exist as one culture, under single unified law. While I don't quite agree, it is clear that she has great love for her home, as I do mine. And that brings me comfort.

In any case, I brought this up to her, and her reaction... Well, it's been haunting me, sort of.

She told me that the entire war is a farce. A petty, artificial facade - constructed by those in positions of power to line their pockets - that will never have any true resolution or impact in it's current state. That despite what the media and all the pilots involved in it say, it is pointless, and my homeland is not, nor will it ever be, in any danger.

And when I pointed out the argument that Jenneth-haani made in it's favor to me months ago (that it harms far fewer then any other form of Capsuleer work, in the sense that it is only fighting amongst our own kind) she said that it could not be further from the truth. She told me that the conflicts true victims are not the ones flying about in ships, nor the people who suffer from supply disruptions in the high security regions.

No. The people who suffer the most, in reality, are the ones who were simply trying to make a life for themselves in border space. Who's existences have been torn apart by this war, and who's lives are claimed every day as the territory constantly changing hands. Who have been utterly cast aside by civilized society to facilitate the desires of the populace at large, who blindly desire death and retribution against their enemies,

She said it was bloodsport, if not in those exact words. A daily sacrifice to the gods, to bring about a short-lived harvest, with a price that will only grow.

I... Had never even thought of it so. It's given me enough pause that I don't feel truly feel comfortable proceeding. I would rather just continue exploring, and trying to understand what being a Capsuleer truly means. I've made a fair amount of wealth, now, and I can almost fly a covert operations frigate. I almost wish to simply wander, for a time, abstaining even from the minimum of bloodshed I have been required to commit in self defense.

But, in truth, does it matter what I think? Father tells me this is right. He tells me it is best for the family. I would not be a Capsuleer at all, were it not for him. What right do I have to question?

Father, why do you ask this of me? You know I'm not a fighter - You know I've never wanted to be one. When I was a child, I dreamed of being a monk, dreamed of spending my days only seeking truth and understanding as our elders passed have, in the ways you have abandoned. To live without material desires, and leave only the lightest of footprints on the ground I walk. I do not want renown, I do not want glory. I do not want to destroy the worlds of others.

You know that I cannot refuse you. That it is to you that I owe everything; My life, my good health, my years of enjoying almost the highest quality of life in the State. My ability to have spent the first twenty-five years of my life doing nothing of value, without a days work...

Yet you sold these pieces of metal carved into the back of my skull on the promise that I would only need to mine a few rocks over the course of a spattering of weeks to bring an end to all of our troubles. That I would never need to be a warrior, or a killer. That I could be myself, even amongst the stars.

Why did you deceive me?