Brothers and sisters o’ the belt,

Some folks will tell ye that mining’s dull, that we sit in silence while the warriors shout and boast o’ their kills. But I tell ye this — it’s our beams that carve the future, our ore that forges the ships, our labour that builds the empires they fly in.

They may laugh at us, aye… but when their hull’s cracked, when their fleets are lost, who do they come crawling tae? The miners. The builders. The lifeblood o’ New Eden.

So raise yer heads high, capsuleers!
Each rock ye shatter is a victory. Each load ye haul is freedom bought with sweat and patience. The belts are our battlefield, and in the hum o’ the lasers, I hear the song o’ a people that will never bow.

So mine with pride, mine with fury!
And let the stars ken that though others may take our ships… they’ll never take our ore!