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If the ship was lost the other way, the violation, forcible conversion, and merging of coilgun and gunner, fusion reactor and engineer, until all are Beast. And that's only if they were killed in fire. And you don't have the kind of overview the Tactical Officer has, so it's only after the battle, when you are as safe as the universe gets anymore, that you can look at the boards and find out who you lost. So when you're in battle and the purge protocols are implemented, you don't have time to look and see which compartment it was, which of your friends, your family, just died quickly, cleanly, in a flash of fire - or slowly and terribly as the conversion began, before the protocol was enacted.
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But at the same time, you have friends - and loved ones, they're a Kiith after all - crewing the ship in compartments all over it, and in other ships. After protocols were in place, you had to hope the infection vector didn't hit the compartment you were in, for fear of either infection, plasma, or both. Can you imagine being some poor Somtaaw crewman, even after the counterinfection protocols were implemented? Before they were, all you knew was one good hit and your ship - and you - were pretty much done for. Ranged infection, and not even through torpedoes or something. Let our weaves combine into the great work we have been born to complete. To the Temple of Kadesh, our great graveyard, we must go. have nowhere else to go.Īll Kadeshi, we must pull back. The echo of the song of parting still resounds.
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Our families - our children! Murderous bastards. They have not suffered as we have suffered! They have not perfected themselves as we have cut out our weakness! What have they lost? A world? What is a world?! For thousands of years we have done without! It is nothing.Ī Needle dies, the weave is broken. So - how did it come to this? The Exiles.
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#Homeworld remastered access violation cracked#
Our Swarmers tore them apart, our Multi-Beam Frigares cracked open their delusion of might, and our Needle-ships taught them a lesson in mercy. The Taiidan, once, they ventured into the Garden. Stop defiling our mother, you sons of bitches! We are trained to fight for it, because infidels are unworthy of its magnificence. We are conceived to preserve it, because it is glorious. The Garden, in its streamers of gas, in its radiation song, shelter us from the dark and the enemy. We take only the barest minimum needed to maintain ourselves. We must first be worthy of the sacrifice. Our lives form a pattern that repeats infinitely. We, the Kadeshi, who hail each new Needle as a nation unto itself - weaving a tapesty in this sacred Garden. We, the Kadeshi, have pruned our very wombs for the sake of generations yet unborn. We, for countless generations, have lived within the confines of our ships. What do they know of what we suffered? At least they had a world. That our ancestors were once one people does not make them special. We fight, because we know, our loss means the end of the Kadeshi. Lest they bring to our temple again, the great enemy that drove our ancestors from our homeworld. All who enter must join, or die, lest they tell the galaxy that we are not as strong as we appeared. Our place that we owned, where even the great enemy dared not enter.