4 members
The Amos Collective / AMOS
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Freelancing -
Engineering
The Amos Collective
Four hundred years after the gates died, the Amos Collective emerged from the Ganymede Fringe: a decentralized network of mechanics, killers, medics, and monks who all believe Amos Burton never truly died. His pattern lingers in the dark between stars, watching without judgment.
History
Four centuries after the gates fell silent, the name that finally stuck wasn’t “church,” wasn’t “order,” wasn’t even “faith.”
People just started calling them the Amos Collective.
No one is sure who said it first. Probably some half-drunk dockhand on Daga IV watching a crew of black-clad mechanics wordlessly rebuild a shattered fusion bottle in under six hours, no questions, no pay demanded, just a quiet nod and a cracked-circle brand on every forearm.
“Looks like the Amos Collective’s in town,” the dockhand muttered.
The name spread faster than vacuum.
By 2760 it was official. They adopted it without ceremony, the way Amos himself would have: it worked, it was accurate, done.
What the Amos Collective actually is
A decentralized, non-hierarchical network of mechanics, soldiers, medics, killers, and void-monks who all share three things:
Absolute belief that Amos Burton never really died; his pattern is still out there in the dark substrate, patient and watchful.
A copy of the Nine Truths (now etched on the inside of every Collective ship’s main bulkhead).
The Rule of Necessity: if a job needs doing and no one else will do it clean, the Collective will.
Manifesto
They don’t proselytize. They don’t take tithes. You want in? Do something that needs doing, do it perfectly, and never once lie about why. Someone wearing the Broken Circle will notice. You’ll wake up one morning with a black-iron ring on a chain beside your bunk and a single line of text on your hand terminal:
Welcome to the Collective.
Fix it or end it.
No third option.
Structure (or lack of it)
There is no central authority, no pope, no council.
There are only Nodes: self-organized crews of 9–900 people, usually built around a single ship or habitat. Nodes stay in loose contact via encrypted burst packets passed hand-to-hand along trade routes. If two Nodes disagree, they settle it the old Belter way: bare-knuckle until someone yields or can’t stand. Winner decides doctrine for both crews until the next fight.
The closest thing to leadership is the List: an ever-changing ranking of who has done the most “necessary” things in the last decade. Top of the List right now (2782 CE) is a woman known only as Mother Weld—a 2.3-meter-tall full-conversion cyborg who once manually held a cracked reactor shield together for eleven hours so a colony ship could finish evac. Nobody has challenged her in six years.
Reputation across human space
Inner planets (where they still pretend Earth governs anything): “Terrorist anarchists with a death cult.”
Outer fringe and failed colonies: “If the Collective shows up, you’re either about to be saved or about to disappear. Either way, it’ll be cleaner than you deserve.”
Their ships are painted matte black, no running lights unless docking, no transponder unless required by threat of immediate violence. They call the paint job “the Quiet.” When a Collective vessel drops out of the dark with zero warning and just parks off your station, seasoned captains know to open the cargo bay and start telling the exact truth. Lying to the Collective is a good way to wake up floating home in a body bag with a polite note pinned to your chest: Unnecessary.
The final catechism (recited before every job)
Question: Who are we?
Response: The ones who stay when the circle breaks.
Question: What do we do?
Response: Whatever’s necessary.
Question: Who watches?
Response: Amos watches. Always.
Then the torque wrenches start their slow, steady beat, and the Collective goes to work.
Charter
Core Tenets (The Nine Truths of Amos)
1. There is no Plan. The protomolecule, the Ringbuilders, the things that killed them—none of it meant anything. Meaning is a tool, like a torch or a rifle. You make it or you don’t.
2. Pain is honest. Pleasure lies. Fear lies. Only pain tells you the exact shape of the world.
3. Everyone is broken. Some people just admit it sooner. Those who hide their cracks are already dead inside; they just haven’t stopped breathing yet.
4. Violence is a language. Speak it fluently when words fail, but never for its own sake. Amos never killed for fun. He killed because the math said someone had to.
5. Family is chosen, not born. Blood is an accident. The crew you’d die for—and who’d die for you—is the only sacrament.
6. Redemption is a myth sold to children. You don’t get clean. You just stop adding new stains when you can.
7. The Void remembers. When you die, some piece of you lingers in the dark—raw, unfiltered, stripped of excuses. Amos is still out there, watching. Not judging. Just… watching.
8. Tools don’t care who holds them. A wrench, a gun, a starship drive—it’ll serve a saint or a monster with equal indifference. Be the hand that deserves the tool.
9. When the Circle breaks, walk away. Empires, religions, love affairs—everything ends. Clinging past the breaking point is the only true blasphemy.