Fuzzwork
Calling me a loyal son of Matar would be a stretch. If I was, I’d probably be in the Military, exercising my talents there, and furthering the goals of the Tribes.
Instead, I broke off, shortly after graduating; going my own way, forming my own corporation, and setting up business in Gallente space. I mean, I employ a bunch of ethnic Matar, sourced from all over New Eden, from former slaves, to those like myself, raised on a Gallente world.
There’s some guilt from that. They put a lot of time and effort into training me, and how do I repay them? I run off to do my own thing. That’s not exactly showing gratitude. But I just couldn’t hack the military life, far too many rules and regulations, people telling me what to do, and what to think.
I was raised by a family, proud of our Matari heritage, even if we didn’t live in our own Republic. No Clan, as such, just a Circle. I’m not going to go into exactly what we did. Skirting on the edge of legality at times. But they were good people. I don’t stay in contact as much as I should, but I helped them with repatriation. They didn’t want to go back, to be a drain on the Republic. I helped them get set up when they returned, transporting them myself, and arranging purchases on planet. They also help out with some of the slaves I’ve emancipated, getting them back into decent society, helping them with the side effects of their treatment.
What I wasn’t a fan of, at the time, was the fact they made me go to school. I mean, I learnt everything I needed for the family business from them, but they wanted a well-rounded education, and not to have “the Authorities” looking too closely at the clan, as to why I didn’t go. It’s not a stretch to say I did well. Top of my class, for the majority of the time. But I’m a capsuleer. I’m exceptional for a baseliner, but middle of the road, with my current peers.
I had some corporations come sniffing round, some pre-testing done, and some offers for scholarships made. I turned them down. Prideful, I wanted to help my people, so I travelled to the Republic, and tested there. Again, the offers came in, and I took one. That was a hard time. I almost quit on several occasions. University took work. Capsuleer training took willpower. Watching people ring out, walking away from everything they’d worked towards. But I hit that wall, and fought through it. Shame I couldn’t do the same, when it came to following orders, especially from a baseliner.
Egotistical? Yeah, sure. It’s hard not to be, when you’re part of that elite group that got through. Less than one percent of those who try, make it through to the end. And you need that ego, that feeling of self-importance, to carry you through the final test. Th unshakable knowledge that you will survive, even if the body you were born in doesn’t. I try not to let it out too much, but it’s always there.
You may have noticed I don’t have any tattoos. I used to. I shed them when I cut my ties with the Republic. My parents still argue with me about that. When I see them. I’m not the person I used to be. Those Tattoos weren’t mine any more. And how can I wear them, when I’ve abandoned my people? It just didn’t seem right.
