I had been able to build a solid reputation and my work had become highly sought after. Many corporations wanted to recruit me but I had always resisted the temptation. As an employee in a capsuleer corporation I would become ‘an asset’. A thing to be played with. A chip, and not an expensive one, in the everlasting poker game that is capsuleer politics. Instead, I had found a safe haven in a subsidiary of the Sisters of EVE Alliance. An independent research institute subsidiary that developed technologies that could be licensed to the broader universe. I received generous funding and was free to engage in my own pursuits. Sometimes work was commissioned and I was contracted out to whatever entity was prepared to pay for my services. For this project I was working on the new propulsion system for a destroyer class hull. Although the project wasn’t a great challenge, some of its features were useful in the context of a larger overhaul of ships’ systems which, if I managed to pull it off, would be scalable from simple frigates all the way up to titans. It would be a game changer, something that would reverberate throughout the universe and have an impact on the outcomes of many future conflicts. I was irritated that I felt smug about developing technologies that capsuleers would be using long after I had gone. My technology would be the butterfly effect that would have its influence felt in all layers of New Eden society, and most of those people would never know that it had been me flapping my wings.


A structure will be built. This is a mausoleum, a monument to our fallen brothers and sisters. The friendly geniuses in fair and far Reykjavik will find the proper expression of that idea. It will ideally provide for a couple of animated ways to salute a portrait of our fallen comrades.