by Grey Bard
Preface to the Moyanii-Saga, Written 342 years AF (after founding).
These are the tales and this the record of the birthing times of our people. The beginning of the Levathanii, the people of the living ships, the far-star-wanderers. The origin of the star clans, we who fly freely, in the time of Talyn, the first born Guardian-ship in the proud line of our swift protectors. Here lie the tales of the Founding. Of the flight from Peacekeeper pursuit, and the great war of the tiny crew against the great armada. Of the raid on the slave base, and the generation of children rescued to be raised in freedom. Of the start of the great spy network that serves us still from the quiet efforts of Rygel the Great and his Nebari successor. Of the brave Leviathans that broke free of their masters to flock to our name. And of the conception of the Guardian-fleet in the determination of Sun and Crichton, the first of the Guardians.
This is what made us what we are. We have a right to be proud. We have a duty not to forget, for do we not owe the birthing times a debt for the Founding? For all we hold dear? For, in many cases, our very existence? We are the people of the astral winds. We have no base, no destination, no law save our own. An unnamed number of our homeships are scattered through all territories, charted and unknown, and where ever we go, there stands freedom.
The Peacekeepers hate us, but what can they do? We have no planet to defend, no loved ones on the dirtsides, what can they take from us? We are as pollen on the wind, so many of us flung among the stars that for every one that they might detect, ten go unknown.
Besides, they know too well that for every one of our ships lost, one of the Guardian-fleet will answer the call and take a more than equal cost out upon theirs. On dirt, all know that one of the Leviathanii taken, no matter how young, is more trouble than worth. We are the survivors, the best of the best.
Among our number are the cleverest minds and brightest spirits of a thousand planets, for there are always those who would give all for freedom. We hold no knowledge forbidden, no birth lowly, and no love shameful. The greatest doctors and scientists, the finest poets and artists, and the most devious military minds in all of known space come of the Leviathanii, but no amount of fame or fortune could ever induce one of ours to leave us. Even our ships, the homes of our people, know of the slave times. None wish the need to repeat the early freedom raids of our ancestors. Any chain, no matter how precious or beautiful, in anathema to us if it attempts to bind.
We may go officially on a hundred worlds, and are welcomed by the people of ten times that number for the most exotic of trade and the best of entertainment.
We are, all of us, both tech and warrior no matter what other skills we own. As Leviathanii our children are raised wary and clever from the first. We are a people of passion and peace, and the meeting of two clan-ships in peacetime is a thing of wonder and joy; a festival and feast in one. But we value freedom before all else. Should we call upon the Guardians, kin dead and comrades lost, the very galaxy shivers in terror.
All Leviathanii are one people, every ship's clan a family, no matter what species they are born to, and as one people we defend our own. We are the refuge of the halfbreed, of the outcast, of the thinker. We are the tellers of history and the keepers of truth, uncaring of dirtsider ambition or prejudice.
We are as the founders of our people made us. Strong and shrewd and free. They were wise enough to see that what began for them as exile became a privilege to be cherished. Thank you, ancestors.
~J'than Sunmoyan, historian, Clan Mircha