"Prospect 141? Nobody goes there anymore."
- Unknown trader
Months passed.
There were, naturally, unresolved matters. Our universe is a messy place, and never truly has an ending. It drives on, with the endless passing of time; relentless.
Prospect 141 was left to its own devices; forgotten by the very corporations that once dictated its every waking moment. The Upper Tier, once a monument to Corpus dominance, became a No Man's Land: a desolate wasteland that masked the teeming life in the Mid and Low Tiers beneath. The surviving Corpus, free of the routine indoctrination that so many crewmen were subjected to, became a gang in their own right; bartering the ruined drones and scrap resources for food and access to the colony below.
As for the Orokin vessel. It departed soon after the events of this story, retrieved by agents of the Tenno and their mysterious allies. That it led to a renewed interest in Orokin technology, and the eventual reawakening of the Rail thereafter.
There is no law in Prospect 141. Not anymore. It is a black market city, an illicit trade hub; a scavver's paradise. The gangs rule much of it, and in truth I am glad to see the back of it.
The rebellion was never intended to liberate the colony. Opinion on it amongst the Solaris remains divided, even today. Some praise Vanger Hosk, calling him a hero for defying the Board against unstoppable odds. Others branded him a fool, who damned a colony. Hosk's Folly, as they sneeringly call it.
As for how you see it, I leave that to you. I have told events as best as I remember them, building the wider picture from interviews of those who played a larger role than I. All I know is this: Vanger Hosk was an honourable man, and did what he felt was best.
I still remember that day, on the fateful push up the ziggurat. My arm still aches, even now.
It was a salient lesson to Solaris United. Never again would they face the Board in open field. Their proxies are too many, their resources too great. No, the Solaris cause would live on in the shadows, hiding in plain sight beneath their master's very nose. In time, the benefits of that daring raid would become apparent. The struggle would continue, anew.
Others would take up their cause, in time.
Of the Tenno who fought in that early battle, I know not what became of them. They were warriors of the Void, cursed and blessed in equal measure. Their stories are their own.
And, surely, only beginning.