9 members
IN 2465, in the final years before Earth was finally abandoned, few people still believed that the future lay beyond the stars. Fewer still were willing to risk everything for it.
Among them were two unlikely pioneers: landlords from the quiet, green hills of the Eifel Mountains. They were not scientists, soldiers, or corporate visionaries—just pragmatic dreamers who had watched their world slowly empty. As cities hollowed out and humanity prepared to scatter among the stars, they made a decision that would outlive empires.
They sold everything they owned.
Land. Buildings. History.
With the proceeds, they purchased a small, battered spacecraft—outdated even by the standards of the time—and left Earth behind, not as refugees, but as explorers searching for something more than survival: purpose.
What they found was not a new home.
They found a whole ‘verse.
Uncharted systems glowing with untouched stars. Nebulae painted in colors no human eye had ever cataloged. Ancient ruins drifting in silent orbits. Strange new species—some peaceful, some terrifying—living under skies that no longer belonged to humanity alone.
Instead of settling down, they pressed on.
Curiosity became obsession.
Wonder turned into resolve.
They realized that true exploration required more than wanderlust. It needed structure, resources, and allies. To finance their journeys, they began accepting contracts—scouting routes, retrieving data, transporting rare cargo. They became privateers, operating on the thin line between official sanction and plausible deniability.
Each mission pushed them further. Each risk sharpened their reputation.
Slowly, a small but resilient organization took shape—one built not on territory or politics, but on movement. Freelancers, explorers, pilots, and specialists gathered under a shared belief: the ‘verse was still full of secrets, and someone had to find them.
Nearly 500 years later, that belief still burns.
The organization—older than many star systems’ governments—continues to exist, a relic of humanity’s early expansion and a living testament to its restlessness. Time, however, has changed it.
The members of today are rougher.
More independent.
More rogue.
The jobs are no longer simple exploration runs. They involve dangerous systems, forgotten jump points, hostile factions, and operations that often dance at the very edge of legality. Official contracts are rare; discreet requests are common. Trust is a currency, and betrayal a constant risk.
Yet despite the shadows they operate in, the organization has never forgotten its roots.
Old symbols are still worn on flight suits.
Stories of the Eifel founders are told in hangars and mess halls.
And the core belief remains unchanged:
The ‘verse is vast.
There are still worlds no one has seen.
And exploration—true exploration—is worth any risk.
Looking to the future, the organization stands at a crossroads. New technologies threaten to map the unknown faster than ever. Corporations seek to claim what remains undiscovered. And rumors speak of regions of space that should not exist at all.
Whether they become legends, outlaws, or the last true explorers of the stars is yet to be decided.
But one thing is certain:
As long as there are uncharted stars, they will keep flying.
We were not born from governments, corporations, or empires.
We were born from a decision—to leave everything behind and fly into the unknown.
From the last days of Earth to the far edges of the ‘verse, we have endured because we understand a simple truth:
The universe does not reward the cautious.
It rewards those who move forward.
This manifesto defines who we are, what we stand for, and why we continue to fly.
Exploration is not a luxury.
It is our reason to exist.
We seek what lies beyond mapped jump points, beyond trade lanes, beyond safe space. We go where sensors fail, charts end, and certainty disappears. Not for conquest, but for knowledge—because every new system, anomaly, or world expands humanity’s understanding of its place among the stars.
We believe the ‘verse is still largely unknown.
And we refuse to accept that it should remain that way.
We are drawn to the unusual, the forgotten, and the unexplained.
Derelict stations.
Unstable stars.
Ancient structures drifting without origin or owner.
Worlds no one bothered to name.
We do not judge a place by its comfort or profit alone, but by its potential—for discovery, for opportunity, or for danger worth understanding. Every strange new place holds a story, and we intend to be the ones who uncover it.
Ships can be rebuilt.
Reputations can recover.
People cannot.
Our pilots, engineers, medics, gunners, and explorers are our most valuable asset. We do not waste lives for glory or contracts that are not worth the risk. When one of us is in trouble, we respond—whether the call comes from civilized space or the darkest edge of the ‘verse.
Loyalty is not demanded.
It is earned and returned.
A grounded ship is a dead ship.
We maintain, repair, upgrade, and adapt. We scavenge when needed, modify when necessary, and improvise when no official solution exists. Our vessels bear the scars of centuries of flight—and those scars are proof of survival.
A ship that flies is freedom.
A ship that flies is life.
Idealism does not fuel reactors.
We take contracts. We trade. We salvage. We escort. We freelance. We accept work others cannot or will not take. Payment keeps us operational; honor keeps us us.
We may operate in grey zones, but we are not without principles. Our word matters. Betrayal, needless cruelty, and cowardice are remembered—and answered.
We are not heroes.
But we are not criminals without a cause.
Our Way Forward
We will do almost everything to achieve these goals.
We will bend rules when they no longer serve survival or discovery.
We will cross lines when the alternative is stagnation or extinction.
We will make hard decisions and live with their consequences.
We do not hesitate when action is required.
Because hesitation has killed more explorers than danger ever has.
We are explorers, privateers, freelancers, and survivors.
We are the heirs of two dreamers from the Eifel Mountains who chose the stars over safety.
As long as there are uncharted systems,
as long as there are mysteries waiting beyond the next jump,
and as long as ships can still fly—
We will be there.
“Do not mess with the bigger ones, unless you have bigger guns.”
This charter exists for one reason: survival.
The ‘verse is not fair, not balanced, and not forgiving. Power is unevenly distributed, and pretending otherwise is how organizations disappear without a trace.
We acknowledge this reality—and we act accordingly.
We recognize that there will always be entities larger than us.
Corporations with endless credits.
Militaries with fleets that blot out stars.
Syndicates that rule entire systems from the shadows.
Size alone is not evil.
But ignoring size is stupidity.
We observe. We assess. We remember.
We do not provoke superior forces without purpose.
We do not pick fights for pride, boredom, or false heroism. No contract, ego, or personal vendetta justifies reckless confrontation with an enemy we cannot realistically defeat.
Bravery is not charging into certain destruction.
Bravery is knowing when not to pull the trigger.
Engagement with larger powers is permitted only when at least one of the following conditions is met:
We possess superior firepower, technology, or numbers
We control the environment, timing, or terrain
We hold information, leverage, or surprise
Retreat would result in greater loss than confrontation
If none of these conditions are met, disengagement is not cowardice—it is doctrine.
We prefer smart victories over loud ones.
Ambush over confrontation.
Evasion over annihilation.
Preparation over improvisation.
If a problem cannot be solved with force, it may be solved with patience, negotiation, misdirection, or simply not being there when the shooting starts.
No single mission is worth the destruction of the whole.
We exist because we choose battles we can survive. Every captain, squad leader, and operative is expected to think beyond the moment—to the ships, crews, and future that depend on their decisions.
Glory fades.
Survival compounds.
We do not forget those who threaten us.
We do not rush to answer immediately.
The ‘verse is vast. Time is patient.
Debts—both owed and collected—do not expire.
When we strike, it is because the balance has shifted.
When we fight, it is because we are ready.
This charter is not about fear.
It is about clarity.
We are explorers, not martyrs.
Privateers, not fools.
And while we do not seek conflict with giants—
If we ever do, it will be because we brought bigger guns.