Swan Song
Access Level: Time Period: Mother‘s reckoning Log Type: Journal recorded on field Author: Chief Geneticist Zeta I may as well make a final recording. I know you Tourian scum are probably listening in, and that’s fine, Mother. You deserve to know the reason your blood is about to pour out onto this planet’s dying surface. My song starts long before you joined our ranks. We Space Pirates were familiar with the sound of Ridley’s war drums. My job was always to ensure the war machine had enough Space Pirates. I’ve held my position longer than you have, Mother. The Space Pirate genome was a symphony under my charge, in tune with the drums of war. Less and less blood of our pirates’ blood was spilled as they evolved quicker than their enemies could. I became head of the genetic council and was given the Spawnship, the first of many as the council flourished. But then Zebes happened. Was it you, that called us to attack those birds? Or did Ridley recognize the opportunity that you would free him from responsibility and give him even more bloodshed? Regardless, the Chozo were slain. We witnessed their spilled blood changing our warriors, even the plants that came in contact with the blood became vicious. Vexon, you old bastard, it had to be you that Mother took an interest in, didn’t it? The first handler, the slayer of Chozo. Members of the genetic council mysteriously fell ill, and Mother was given free reign to start her own genetic legacy, the Zebesian Space Pirates. Even as I saw my careful curating of the Pirate Genome unravel before my eyes, even as the Space Pirates were almost rent asunder by the growing divide, I thought your vile brain could be used for the good of our species. Then came Kerig. Not only did you strip away my reign over my symphony, you sent your agent to brainwash my spawnlings. I thought he was a friend. But each and every death, which I always attributed as my fault, was a deliberate ploy by him and you. I should have realized sooner. I had a perfect record before he showed up. Those dead spawnlings are your fault. For what? To breed madmen like Zhaxule? I followed your orders and made batches I didn’t agree with, and still you couldn’t stop yourself from manipulating every single Space Pirate I worked with. I was a fool. I’ve corrected that. Kerig died with his broken neck between my claws. The war drums of Ridley still ring in my ears, even as I climb across this poisonous planet’s surface. You outlawed music, didn’t you? Still, a pirate does not forget the call to battle, nor those hallowed drums. Hail, Great Space Pirates. Fuck you, Mother.
















