Man or Machine

[thisDerius]

---

828 A.S. - Planet Saigon

---

Memories of destruction haunt me—death, fire, betrayal. I should have known this would happen the moment they took an interest in her—my greatest creation, EVE.

The lengths I had to go to just to bring her to life in her human-like form… the suffering, the experiments, the countless bodies marked by incisions and pain—many of whom never deserved such a fate. And in the end, all of it reduced to dust.

A year and a half has passed since that day. When they stormed into my quarters, ready to kill me and take EVE, I was prepared. I was willing to sacrifice everything to keep my work out of their hands, to deny them the power they sought to exploit for profit.

In those final moments, I salvaged what little data I could. Fragments of EVE’s schematics, just enough to attempt her reconstruction, along with intel—personnel records of The Core, The Order, the Auxesian Technocrats, Corsairs, Outcasts… and more. Now, I wander the slums of Nauru once again.

I considered returning to my old workshop, but the entire area has been locked down by Core agents. The only option left was escape—into the desert. As a precaution, I had hidden a hoverbike on the city’s outskirts and beyond that, a ship… her ship. She knew. She left her personal Falchion for me to take. She has vanished into hiding once more. I don’t know if I will ever see her again, if she will survive the hunt this time.

Now, I endure, living off the land on Saigon. It’s a quiet, unpopulated world—an ideal refuge. The food is barely tolerable, but the planet provides enough resources to survive. Slowly, I gather what I need to begin EVE’s reconstruction. It will take years to rebuild what I lost, but I refuse to give up. I escaped Fairbanks—I can do this.

---

831 A.S. - Kusari Space - System New Tokyo

---

A jump hole collapse left my ship crippled. I lost my right arm in the chaos and barely managed to seal the wound with the tools I had. The situation is critical. My chest core is depleting—if I don’t find a way to repair it soon, I won’t survive. My vision flickers, my senses dull.

By some stroke of luck, I stumbled upon an unsecured Samura warehouse—an opportunity I couldn’t ignore. I scavenged what I needed and, in return for my skills in robotics, the locals granted me access to their workshop. For two months, I toiled—welding, programming, assembling. I crafted not just a replacement arm, but two entirely new ones. The old left one was obsolete anyway.

With my ship finally repaired, I set course for the Border Worlds, searching for Nomad and Vagrant structures. The original EVE was designed to counteract the effects of the Nomads on human minds. Last time, it required hybrid and psionic brains to function. But perhaps I can develop an alternative method—one based on the data I extract from Nomad gates and artifacts.

First stop: Kansas. I pray I won’t run into anyone there.

---

834 A.S. - FMV-Bastion - Coronado System

---

Kansas, Inverness, Delta, Minor, Major, Iota, Taus, Sigmas, and Omegas. I have scoured nearly every corner of this damned sector, and after three years, I have only managed to collect 40% of the data I need for EVE’s reconstruction. Three years… for so little.

Along the way, I sustained myself by offering medical augmentations, cybernetics, and prosthetics. It paid just enough to keep me going. Eventually, I acquired a frigate—turning it into a mobile lab, a sanctuary for my work.

---

835 A.S. - FMV-Bastion - New York System

---

I must be insane. Roaming through Liberty space, speaking with the Navy like I was never AWOL, like I never escaped Fairbanks, like I never caused a stir in their ranks.

Then, I saw it—the wreckage of the once-proud LNS-Silent Claw, now reduced to debris, renamed in death as Memphis. My heart sank at the sight. I scanned the wreckage, hoping to salvage anything of value. It had been through so much; there might still be something useful for EVE’s revival.

What I’m doing is reckless, but if I want to succeed, I have to take risks. I still pilot my Blackout One Falchion, slipping through shadows, but my time is running out. It won’t be long before I’m discovered.

I must work faster.

This journey has taken its toll. I don’t know how I keep going. Perhaps, in the end, I am more machine than man.

---

John Derius Guerra.

[thisDerius]

835. A.S. - Planet New Tokyo.

---

I found it.

Tucked away in the Ontario system, half-buried in the void like a ghost of the past. A fragment of the Hamilton wreck, hidden so well that if it weren’t for a stroke of luck, I would have missed it entirely. Inside? The Silent Claw’s old database. The data was fragmented, decayed from years of drifting in radiation, but it still contained something valuable—something on the Slomon K’Hara. I had searched all across Liberty, wasted time combing through dead signals and false leads, but then a familiar ping cut through the static.

Ontario held the answers where Liberty did not. The wreckage was dangerous. Radiation levels spiked the moment I got close, my hull creaking as if the wreck itself was warning me to turn back. Thank god I came prepared—reinforced shielding, a quick grab-and-go strategy. No room for hesitation. A single misstep, and I’d have been left as another nameless corpse floating in the black. The data I salvaged wasn’t much—an additional 5% to my collected research.

A small step forward, but progress is progress. I’ll take whatever I can get. There’s still some encrypted data in the package, possibly my own old logs. A part of me wonders if I should even look. I never liked leaving my ship while in deep space—one mistake, and off you go, lost forever. Maybe those thoughts are still buried in the files, waiting for me to dig them back up.

---

But Liberty isn’t safe for me anymore. I’ve decided to head to Kusari—for now, at least. It feels safer, or at least less immediate in its threats.

Before that, though, I need to rename my ship. I can feel the weight of too many eyes on me, the way people’s stares linger just a second too long. They’re suspicious. Maybe they recognize me. Maybe they don’t. But I know better than to let them keep wondering.

Still, I chose to keep my main transponder active. A risk, but one worth taking. If I’m going to move around freely, it’s better to own my identity than constantly run from it. Even if it costs me later.

---

One lingering thought keeps circling back to me. Sanae Miyasu. Is she still alive? If she is, she might be able to give me a lead, maybe even offer me some kind of safe harbor. Assistance. Insight. A place to work from, at least for a while. I’ll track her down in due time, but first—I need a drink. The Undercity on this planet will do. A good drink, a dark corner, and time to think.

[thisDerius]

835. A.S. - Planet New Tokyo.

---

I did it.

After years of silence and uncertainty, I finally reached out to Sanae Miyasu—and against all odds, she agreed to meet me. Tonight, I’ll finally sit down with her, face to face. I don’t know how this meeting will go, but it’s a chance to lay the groundwork for something meaningful. A step forward. Maybe even a fresh start.

Getting here, though? That was another ordeal altogether.

---

Before leaving Liberty, I made one final stop in Ontario—specifically, to investigate the anomaly near Planet Sunbury. Something about it had been nagging at me for a while now, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was missing something important. The closer I got, the more bizarre the readings became. Something—something on the planet’s surface—activated an artifact. Whatever it was, it created a force field around the entire planet, sealing it off. The energy signatures were unlike anything I had seen before, fluctuating erratically, defying any standard classification. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say the planet was being contained—or worse, protected from something outside. But from what? The data made no sense. My instruments struggled to interpret the energy fluctuations, and even my AI’s analysis couldn’t pinpoint a logical explanation. I recorded as much data as I could, knowing that someday, I’d have to return. This mystery isn’t over. Not by a long shot. With nothing else left for me in Liberty, I set course for Kusari.

---

I knew from the start that getting into Kusari wouldn’t be easy. Liberty space was under heavy patrol, and the border regions were infested with pirates, mercenaries, and all manner of lowlifes. The standard trade routes were being watched, and I wasn’t about to risk being spotted, not with the Bastion already flagged in multiple jurisdictions. So I took another route. A worse route. Alaska. I should have known better. I should have remembered. I spent years operating in that system, knew its dangers, its secrets—but time had changed it. The Alaska I knew was gone. Weapons platforms. Heavily armed checkpoints. Mines stretching for kilometers, an endless field of death. I had no choice but to push through.The moment I entered the system, the Bastion’s shields were put to the test. Every automated turret, every patrol, every damn kill zone in the sector seemed to light up as soon as I entered range. My ship—one of the fastest of its class—was barely able to dodge the barrage of plasma and railgun fire. The old navigation routes I remembered were gone, replaced with a labyrinth of death. At some point, survival became pure instinct. That’s when I saw it—the Supergate. I had no time to think, no time to reconsider. I was running out of options, and with my ship taking damage, I had to take the risk. I activated the gate. The Bastion was pulled into the vortex. And then—silence.

---

When the jump completed, I found myself somewhere unknown. My star maps registered nothing. My instruments were struggling to calibrate. The system’s name? Earhart. I drifted in the vast emptiness, scanning my surroundings, searching for anything familiar—but all I found was a massive structure at the system’s center. It was alien, towering, an enigma of metal and energy. Around it, floating platforms—not just stabilizers, but heavily armed defensive turrets. I barely had time to analyze it before the first shot came. One blast—and my shields were gone. Another would have ripped me apart. I dodged, banking the Bastion hard, evading the deadly accuracy of those defenses. The only thing that saved me was distance. The turrets had a range limit. If they didn’t, I wouldn’t be writing this log. But the questions remained. What the hell is Earhart? Who built that structure? And more importantly—why? There were several other structures scattered across the system, each one equally strange, equally unreadable. But my ship was too damaged to explore further. I was running low on options, and I had to find a way out. That’s when I detected a nearby jump hole. No clear destination. No indication of where it would take me. But it was my only way out. I took the jump.

---

The jump hole spat me out into Sigma-13. Familiar ground. Safe—at least compared to what I had just survived. I didn’t stop. My ship was in no condition for more surprises. I moved straight for the Honshu jump hole, pushing the Bastion’s engines as hard as I could. From there, I crossed into New Tokyo, leaving the nightmare of Alaska and Earhart behind me. For now. In hindsight, I was lucky. Several jump holes within Earhart read as completely unknown, offering no data on their destinations. A blind jump into any of them could have led me somewhere worse—somewhere I wouldn’t have returned from. But the one I took? It was different. Unlike the others, this one showed Sigma-13 on the other side. That was my way out. My only way out. And I took it without hesitation.

Once I reached New Tokyo, I finally sent my message to Sanae. She responded. Positively. Tonight, we meet. I don’t know what to expect, but for the first time in years, I feel like I’m moving toward something bigger than just survival. I just hope I’m ready.

End Log.

[thisDerius]

835. A.S. - FMV - Bastion - New Tokyo System.

---

Some things are better left unspoken. The details of yesterday will not be disclosed in this log. They will remain where they belong—in my memory, and nowhere else.

---

But amidst all the chaos, I’ve come to a realization. My core is nearing its limit. The signs have been there for a while—subtle at first, but growing harder to ignore. Power fluctuations, response delays, an unsettling strain in my synthetic systems. If I don’t act soon, the consequences won’t just be inconvenient. They’ll be fatal.

---

That’s when it hit me. The Ingenuus Research Group. Talking about them brought back a memory—my old arm. A prototype from my time with IRG, discarded but not forgotten. I had stashed it away in Blackout One, buried under a mountain of scrap, where even I nearly lost track of it.

I found it.

The arm itself is useless to me now, but it’s not the hardware I need. It’s the data. I remember encoding an experimental power cell schematic into the arm’s internal systems—a power source stable enough to fuel my core without any of the usual side effects. If I can reconstruct it, I might be able to buy myself the time I need.

Bad news? I did a damn good job locking it down. The encryption is thick—something I designed myself back when I was with IRG. And of course, like an idiot, I never thought I’d need to break into it, so I left myself no access codes. Now I’m the one stuck trying to hack my own work. Typical.

I don’t know how long this will take, or if I’ll even succeed. Every second counts, and I can already feel the clock ticking against me. I just hope I’m not too late.

---

On the brighter side, repairs on the Bastion are finally complete. The lab is fully retrofitted and operational, designed for mobile work. It’s a relief knowing I have a place to conduct my research—far away from the people who’d rather see me dead.

With everything set, I’m preparing to take the ship back into the unknown. My next course? Sigma-13. If luck is on my side, I’ll find a safe path through. If not... well. At least it won’t be another run through Alaska. Once was enough.

For now, I’m signing off. I’ll log again once the day is done.

If I’m still alive.

End Log.

[thisDerius]

835. A.S. - FMV - Bastion - New Tokyo System.

---

The universe is vast, filled with wonders and horrors alike. But some places feel... wrong. I found myself in the Copernicus system today. A place I didn’t even know existed until now. There’s something eerie about it—something that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. It’s as if the very fabric of the universe is angry at this system, like it wasn’t meant to exist. The anomalies here are unlike anything I’ve encountered before. Twin inter-system jumpholes, positioned unnaturally close to one another. A dense asteroid field so thick that no light passes through—just an infinite, suffocating darkness. Radiation zones so intense they can tear through a ship’s hull like paper. I barely made it out. My ship took a beating, and I knew if I wanted to keep exploring, I’d need something faster, more maneuverable.

I took out Blackout One, my Falchion. Small, agile, and fast enough to slip in and out before trouble catches up.
During my days with the Core, I had access to all sorts of restricted data. Some of it was useless, some of it... well, some of it just saved my life. Back then, I came across classified Rheinland encryption codes, ones that weren’t supposed to leave the hands of high-ranking officials. I never thought I’d need them, but today, they proved their worth. Using them, I managed to slip undetected into Thuringia. That’s where I found the rift. It was unlike any other anomaly I’ve seen—a dimensional tear hidden within the remnants of a collapsed planet. The gravitational pull around it was unreal, like an invisible hand trying to rip my ship apart piece by piece. Every alarm blared in my cockpit, warning me to turn back. I didn’t. Somehow, I made it through, and on the other side... Earhart.

But something was different. The system didn’t feel the same as before. The Omega jumphole was gone. Vanished, erased from existence as if it had never been there. Instead, a new jumphole had formed, leading to Omicron Beta. I took the chance to do some deeper exploring. Some of the uncharted systems I encountered felt... wrong. One in particular. The moment I entered, I felt it. A force holding me back, slowing my ship down. It was as if I had entered the gravitational pull of something immense, but there was no single source. The entire system itself felt... heavy. A red nebula hung over everything, surrounding the remnants of what looked like shattered planets. Or maybe they weren’t planets at all. I couldn’t tell. The readings were inconclusive, and I had no time to investigate. Something about that place screamed danger. I jumped out, moving to another uncharted system. This one was different—open, vast, and strangely peaceful. Three massive stars dominated the sky, casting light over enormous planets. For the first time in a while, I felt at ease. But my curiosity only went so far. There was a cloud in the distance, dark and foreboding. I knew better than to wander into something I wasn’t prepared for. Instead, I took another path and found something... strange.

Another dimensional rift. I approached cautiously, trying to map its energy signature, but all it did was throw me across the system. A one-way ticket back to where I started. A dead end. With no other leads, I returned to Earhart, determined to make another attempt at approaching the structure I had seen before. But the radiation had grown worse—far worse. I couldn’t get close. It was as if the system itself was shifting, evolving. I had no choice but to turn back.

---

I took the new jumphole to Omicron Beta, then moved swiftly into Omicron Alpha. The sight of Alpha brought back memories. Some good, many bad. The Core. The Blackguard. Liberty. A lifetime of battles, alliances, betrayals. But I wasn’t here for nostalgia. I had one destination in mind. I went where nobody should. To the Nomads.

---

A system of beauty and horror. Strange matter hung in the void like a ghostly mist, distorting the space around it. The stars were barely visible, lost behind the swirling chaos of the system’s nebulae. It was breathtaking, and utterly alien.

But I didn’t stop there. I went deeper.

---

We’ve known about this system for decades, yet we barely understand it. Its very structure defies all logic. This isn't just another Nomad system—it's something far greater. At the heart of Omicron Major lies something immense: a Nomad city. Not just a station, not just a lair—an entire city, pulsating with alien energy. Massive structures, flowing with an eerie bioluminescent glow, form a vast network suspended in the void. The entire place feels alive, as if it were an extension of the Nomads themselves. The energy signatures here are off the charts, unlike anything I’ve recorded before. A fully functioning hive, pulsing with activity. But even this is just a piece of the puzzle. Because Omicron Major isn’t just a system.
It’s a Dyson Sphere. The Dam K'Vosh built this place, constructing an unfathomable structure around a star itself. A feat so far beyond human engineering that it might as well be magic. The implications of this are staggering—who knows what else they were capable of? And then, further out from the center of the system, there’s the Gate.

The Enormous Locked Gate. A sealed, monolithic construct, standing as an impassable barrier to whatever lies beyond. Was it built to keep something out? Or worse... to keep something in? The more I stare at it, the more I wonder if it was meant to be opened at all. But I’ve spent too long in Nomad space already. I have what I came for.

I turn back.

---

A three-way jump gate system. Something insane. Something built with purpose. I didn’t linger. I was too far into hostile territory, and I had already pushed my luck. I moved quickly, taking another Nomad Gate to Omicron Zeta. The moment I emerged, I realized my mistake. I was directly above a Nomad Lair. I could see it—organic, pulsating, alive. I didn’t hesitate. I hit full throttle and got the hell out of there, punching my way into Omicron Delta before they could react. I didn’t stay long in Delta. I knew better than to push my luck any further. I made my way to Kusari, this time moving silently. The loot I had gathered along the way was more than just data. Samples, remnants, materials—things that would raise far too many questions if the wrong people found out. I docked back at the Bastion and immediately offloaded everything into my lab. This will be a long night. But even after all of this, I still haven’t cracked the IRG encryption.

I have to keep trying. Time is running out.

End Log.

[thisDerius]

835 A.S. - Omicron Delta - Freeport 11

---

I've finally made a breakthrough—a glimmer of hope amidst the chaos. By sheer luck, I crossed paths with a Phoenix Zoner vessel near Freeport 11. The pilot, unexpectedly cooperative, referred me to one of their researchers—a certain Grey Kalish—who has agreed to assist me in decrypting the IRG Power Cell schematic. This connection is a lifeline I didn't expect, but it's a necessary one. If all goes as planned, my chances of survival have increased significantly. Once I obtain the schematics, I'll be able to replace my failing core and secure a semblance of stability—something I've been chasing for what feels like a lifetime.

---

The Enigma Confederacy and The Core

Parallel to this, I've established communications with the Enigma Confederacy—the AI collective of Planet Gammu. I've proposed assisting them with upgraded power cells to help them repel The Core's relentless encroachment. I see their struggle against The Core as a reflection of my own battles—one of survival against forces that seek to control, consume, and conquer. I've made it clear that I retain control over the distribution of these upgrades. I can't afford for this technology to be misused, especially not by those who see it as a means to wield unchecked power. The Confederacy appears willing, but there's a fine line here—one that could easily become a noose if I misjudge their intentions.

The Core, however, is becoming increasingly aware of my activities. Their presence looms over the Omicrons like a dark cloud, and I suspect they're starting to trace my steps. My decision to transmit my engine data to the Phoenix Zoners is a calculated risk—a necessary diversion to protect my progress. Every move must be precise. If The Core manages to intercept my work or discover the true extent of this technology, the consequences could be catastrophic. The IRG Power Cell has the potential to power or upgrade almost anything—civilian, military, or even AI infrastructure. In the wrong hands, it could easily become a weapon—a spark to ignite another house war. I have to ensure that this power doesn't slip through my fingers.

---

Concerns About the Technocracy

Interestingly, both the Zoners and the Confederacy inquired about my stance toward the Technocracy—known before Battlegroup Auxesia. I've maintained a neutral position with them for as long as I could, a delicate balance between caution and pragmatism. They claim to advance humanity, yet their methods often blur the line between progress and subjugation. I know their arrogance well—they view those outside their circle as inferior, pawns to be manipulated or discarded. While they perceive me as an outlier—a remnant of a past threat—I cannot dismiss the possibility that they may see through the façade. If the Technocracy ever got hold of the IRG Power Cell schematics or my modified cells, their ambitions could extend far beyond mere survival or research. They could seek to control entire sectors, rewriting the order of the Omicrons to fit their vision.

---

Reflections and Next Steps

My next destination is Ames Research Station in the Kepler system—the place where I was rebuilt, the birthplace of Seth Wither—a name that feels like a distant, fractured echo. Returning to Ames stirs up memories I thought I'd buried. It's ironic—going back to the place that gave me this new life to secure the means to save it. Yet, I can't let sentiment cloud my judgment. I need these schematics, not just for myself, but for the balance of the sector. If I succeed, I can finally stabilize my core, ensure my survival, and perhaps, bring a sliver of peace to a region constantly teetering on the edge of destruction.

I have to see this through—not just for my own good, but for the good of those who are caught between the ambitions of empires and the will of machines. This is bigger than me now, and I can't afford to fail.

[thisDerius]

835 A.S. - New Tokyo - FMV-Bastion

---

I can’t believe it…

Tonight, I returned to the Bastion, intending to move her to New Tokyo for some last-minute preparations before setting course for Ames Research Station. Just a simple supply run—one of many in this never-ending cycle of survival and planning. I thought it would be routine, just another stop along the way. But what I saw aboard the ship stopped me dead in my tracks.

---

Z.

The Z.

The same Z who stood by my side during the darkest hours aboard The Alexandria. The man who, like me, fought tooth and nail against the Nomads when they came for us, tearing through our ranks, leaving nothing but death and echoes in their wake. We survived that nightmare together, watching friends and comrades fall one by one, and somehow, we made it out alive—separated by fate, by war, by the tides of this chaotic existence. I had long assumed he was dead. Just another name lost in the void, swallowed by the silence of space. And yet, here he was, standing before me. I should be overjoyed. And I am. But something feels… off.

---

He’s my friend, my brother-in-arms, but the years change people. I’ve learned that lesson too many times, through betrayal, through deception, through the cold sting of knives in the back. I’ve been hunted by the very people I once trusted with my life. I’ve lost count of how many times I let my guard down, only for it to cost me everything. So as much as I want to believe that this is the same Z I once fought alongside, I can’t afford to let nostalgia blind me. Where has he been all this time? How did he survive? Why now, of all times, does he reappear? The universe doesn’t deal in coincidences.

---

I’ll play it carefully. I’ll talk, I’ll listen, I’ll watch. Because as much as I want to embrace this reunion, I can’t ignore the feeling in my gut—the one that tells me I need to be cautious.

Z is my friend. But in this life, even friends can become enemies.

For now, I’ll keep him close. But my eyes will stay open.

[thisDerius]

The first phase of this IRG fiasco is done. With Donagan’s help, I managed to extract a trove of critical data - encryption keys, personnel records, buried projects, and most importantly, information on EVE, Finn McCool, and everything in between. It wasn’t easy; it never is. But I now have the old IRG encryption strings in hand, and those alone are a goldmine. They’ll finally give me a fighting chance to decrypt that cursed arm of mine. Let’s hope the truth buried in its wiring is worth what it cost me.

---

In the days leading up to Kepler, I found myself re-evaluating EVE's original purpose. She was designed as an anti-Nomad asset - nothing more than a tactical failsafe. But Sirius has changed. The Zoners are spread too thin, Phoenix has too few allies, and external threats are no longer limited to aliens. I believe EVE deserves a second life, one with a broader vision.

The concept is still raw, but the framework is taking shape in my head: an AI community, not a weapon. A fully autonomous collective with EVE at the center - coordinating everything. Builders to expand and maintain infrastructure. Miners and harvesters to extract and process resources. Drones and strike craft to patrol, defend, and if needed, retaliate. Imagine an adaptive fleet and workforce, operating in harmony, supporting Zoner space where human hands cannot.

The Alexandria will be the heart of this system - for now. She's large enough, stable, and already customized beyond conventional bounds. I’ll start there, tie the neural cores of each unit back to EVE through encrypted quantum links, and scale as needed.

---

Now, I stand on Ames. The Bastion is moored, and my equipment is being unloaded as I write this. Grey Kalish will assist me in unlocking my augment once and for all. That arm... it’s more than a prosthetic. It might be the key to understanding the power cells and rediscovering IRG’s lost principles.

Our first goal is creating a new cell - one that can not only power EVE, but also shield against Kepler’s dark matter storms. If we succeed, supply convoys to Ames will no longer have to gamble with exposure and radiation. With consistent deliveries, we can begin strengthening the station, then expand outward. A full shielding grid, maybe even modular support platforms across Kepler.

If all goes well, The Bastion will serve as our prototype testbed - our guinea pig.

And to think... just five months ago, I was drifting without purpose. Now, everything is moving at light-speed.

Let’s see where this takes us.