[Jmenschenfresser]

No, I'm back. And I wrote this just for you.

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Encrypted Log
2416.9
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Tallik - General of the Interior

I am placing this log in a sub directory of Raeghar's personal files, of which I have access to. I am placing upon it all of my signatures. If I die without an end coming to this insanity, at least I know here, in this file, when one day the Ministry of Historical Records proceeds to write the biography of my one-time friend, as I know they will do, it will be found, and the truth will be known.

While the rest of the galaxy calls the Tribunals fanatics and religious purists, I know the reality. I, with great meditation, spat on all that purports to be sacred. I left civilization for a while, wandered out into what the ancients called "the wilderness" to track down my tombstone. My dreams burned, never consuming my mind. Self-exiled, in a shuttle stolen from two priest, dead by my own hand, I sat atop the crumbling Pillars of the Sky and cursed the Almighty. I cursed Her with my entire history, and pushed the shuttle over the edge. I wanted to die there, atop that proud, evil member of the world. Right under Her eye. Let Her soft eyes scratch with the dust, my dust. In the distance I heard the great wings of the flying reptiles. Soon I'll be dead, I thought, and a day won't go by, when my bleached bones don't pass under Her gaze.

I woke up days later in confinement, in a cell in a mining outpost. Two Tribunal friendlies took me back to the capital. I told them of what I had done. I actually confessed of evil done to the priest of evil. But there was no guilt. So here I am...now a decorated general. I kill. I hate. I curse. I seek my own death, and I am rewarded. I have learned that the overly-righteous need people like me to do what they cannot. The zealots need minions of murders who've forsaken their own souls.

While the fleets build, while the resources run ever lower, while the workers die in droves from constant double shifts, while the priests and the locals sway the masses, while society is being carved into classes, while faith is corrupted into blindness, while hope is turned to lust, I have been given the task of undoing the society we inherited from the our peaceful years. As General of the Interior, I have first off the responsibility to maintain and further the defense of our planets and our internal warp points. However, my second charge, one that is not reported on and the one that takes far more time, is what we call culling the masses. The grand scheme is quite simple. All research is going toward designing superstructures. These planet like things will be in essence, giant work centers--grand centers of industry. After their construction is complete, I also have the task of overseeing that every citizen be transported to these work centers along with all industry.

The galaxy is evolving...the Norak need to evolve as well. After all citizens are removed from the planets, they will be home to the select, what we call, the Enlightened. As the workers toil, the Enlightened will persue, through all means necessary, to facilitate their evolution into cosmic beings. This is what lies behind the Tribunals. They are just the stewards, the heralds of the future. A society toiling for another, supporting, feeding, taking care of everything, so they can meditate toward evolution.

The present turmoil masks our intentions. External wars mask our inner workings. The Beginning was a band of dusty, disobedient monks brooding in a cave, formulating a vision. I am the Middle, the Facilitator. The End is a Machine, a perfect social machine, producing a Face which will one day intimidate even She who knows no rival.

This project will be my Last. It will take me the rest of my life to complete it. It's vision is my volition. Its hopes are my streets. My destiny stands in its light, or it does not stand at all. I can do nothing else--may it be my gift to the galaxy, and not the curse I fear it to be.