  The Whyaati and their Haven brethren are an enigmatical society of mixed views and philosophies, forged not so much by a desire for mutual cooperation and friendship, but out of the fires of war and the threat of annihilation. These people unite in the just cause of fighting one of the most terrible menaces of the galaxy- the Borg Collective. Seen by many of the Haven as a plague of locusts on a biblical scale, the Borg threaten the lives of these usually tranquil, unassuming and intelligent sentients. The fire in which the Whyaati and their allies burn, like all others in the galaxy, is time. They fear their time is running out and the ever-encroaching Borg will someday commit the resources of a quadrant-spanning galactic power, crushing them. No, not just crushing them? obliterating every trace of what the Whyaati and their allies hold close to their bosoms. The Whyaati can only respond to this possible fate in one way- a smile. Smile in the face of death, smile when your enemy has given you no alternative. Die with the names of your country and your loved ones on your lips, and know that you will go to paradise for your sacrifice. Don't let yourself be captured, that is a fate worse than death. But if you sacrifice yourself for your faith, for your causes and for the next few generations, then the Death Song will ring out from our arcologies? from our worlds, from our very hearts, and you will pass through The Gate. You will be born again to continue the struggle. The Whyaati dream is very close to the Federations dream- a galactic nation of freedom, education, open-mindedness, honesty and civility. Her birth has been rocky, her fate is still uncertain and her methods may be alien to the Human Race of the 24th Century, but in the heart of every Human, every Centauran, every Andorian and every Bajoran, there is a familiarity with the Whyaati. A people and an empire forged in the blackness of space and with the tools of desperation, riding high on luck and morale. Join the cause. Ferry away Brunali or Caatati refugees using a rickety space transport, charge the front lines in defense of the massive space-going arcologies. Slip down the dark and steamy corridors of a Borg Ship to rescue a child from assimilation. This is Whyaat'Da.  |
