We've all got to go sometime.

Bakunin, Pan-Terran Alliance Territory

--------

Amyrlin looked up from his paperwork and gave a pleasant smile. Paperwork constantly occupied his time nowadays; ever since he'd been elected First Citizen of the Alliance, the deluge of forms and reports had never stopped. He wondered how leaders of factions that actually had sizeable governments to create even more paper felt.

The object of his pleasant smile was Wystan, the leader of the Disorganized Society of Freedomists. Wystan paid Amyrlin frequent visits in his office, offering news, rumors, and conversation to relieve Amyrlin from his paperwork.

"I have a request for you," said Wystan. Amyrlin gave a grunt. "I have a friend whom I'd like for you to allow into the Alliance. He's a great scientist and statesman."

"Who might this be?" asked Amyrlin.

"Prosoft," replied Wystan.

Amyrlin stared. Prosoft? The very same Prosoft that, before the great rift severed this universe from the last, conquered an entire faction single-handedly?

"Are you out of your mind?" asked Amyrlin incredulously.

"No. We have a treaty worked out, ready for your signature. We will allow Prosoft into the faction, and he will not send any military forces to Prosperity." Prosperity was the Alliance's home system. "Furthermore, my intelligence service indicates that Prosoft barely has a navy; he has only enough ships to guard his person and his home system."

Amyrlin mulled this over. Clearly, Prosoft would not be a threat. Or would he? Prosoft's technology would add greatly to the Alliance, and Amyrlin's personal spies would be able to ensure that Prosoft did not engage in any sorts of shenanigans.

"I suppose," said Amyrlin, with a sigh. His intuition screamed not to, but Wystan's intelligence service was generally right.

"Great," said Wystan, thrusting forth a document. "Sign this." Amyrlin put his pen to the paper and scrawled out a signature.

--------

Six Months Later

--------

Amyrlin looked up from his paperwork and gave a pleasant smile. His secretary, Anisa, had just entered the room. She provided an occasional relief from the paperwork in quite a different way from Wystan.

"Sir, I have bad news," said Anisa. What? thought Amyrlin. Had she decided to cancel their dinner together this evening? "Prosoft has declared Prosperity to be under siege."

Amyrlin started up out of his chair, and then sunk down as Anisa proffered a report. He read the numbers on the front of it. Two thousand bombers? A thousand fighters? Capital ships? Where did they all come from?

Anisa answered the question before he voiced it. "Maris Licherning is missing," she said. Maris was the head of Amyrlin's intelligence service. "His bank account received a deposit of seven million credits from an unknown account three days ago."

That answered the question of how he was not informed of the invasion. There still remained the greater question of what he could do about it. Not much, he concluded quickly. His personal navy was fiercely loyal, but it was small, and sending it into battle would only sacrifice his pilots for nothing.

"Convene the Grand Council of the Alliance," said Amyrlin. "I will address them in two hours. By then, I need some information." He listed several items to Anisa.

----------

Two Hours Later

----------

"Order! We will have order in the council!" shouted the Presiding Magistrate, Yut Lishering. The delegates appeared not to hear him. Some were shouting for Amyrlin's resignation; others were shouting for his execution.

Amyrlin stepped forward into the First Citizen's box, which was positioned impressively above and to the front of the chamber. He placed his hands on the podium, and waited with a stern face. One by one, the delegates quieted.

"You may have my resignation, if you must demand it. You may even press charges of treason against me, if you believe them merited. But will that change anything? Prosoft's battle fleet still hovers above Bakunin. Your fleets - for those of you who even have fleets - are rusting in drydock, and would be annihilated by battery fire the moment they left the atmosphere, if indeed they are even spaceworthy. Yes, we have the Great Planetary Defense Works of 2397, but some of you have dismantled the Duckshot AAs to make room for shopping malls or open-pit mines.

What, indeed, can we do? Think about it, friends. Do we even have a choice? We could resist, and perhaps hold out for a few weeks, a month even - at the cost of how many of our brave pilots and innocent civilians?

No, friends, we are given no choice. Like it or not, we must cooperate. I have been in contact with Prosoft, and he will allow a select few of us to build military forces with which to defend Bakunin from other threats. The DSF and ASP are safe from attack. For the rest of you, if you follow Prosoft's directives, perhaps you will live to see the next dawn.

As for me, I have made a mistake. Prosoft should never have entered the faction. But would that have changed anything? He still would have likely arrived in Prosperity with a battlefleet, perhaps even stronger. We would still be in this position. I hope you will forgive me, and I hope you will forgive Wystan for pressing for Prosoft's admittance.

I will continue to lead as long as you continue to desire me to. I will strive to lead the Alliance in a way that will ensure our survival. I know you will not like to hear it, but our only choice is to follow Prosoft's directions.

May we all live to see the coming of the next moon."

The delegates sat in silence. Then, one applauded, and the floodgates were opened. The chamber of the Grand Council thundered with applause. Amyrlin waited a moment, then turned and walked down the long walkway to exit.

---------

The Next Week

---------

Amyrlin turned away from the videophone and frowned. Prosoft was playing hardball, again. He had threatened to declare martial law in Prosperity, a measure which Amyrlin was working to avoid. While he still had a measure of goodwill with the citizens of the Alliance, martial law would certainly undermine it.

Anisa strode in quickly, with a worried expression. "Sir, I believe Wystan took your note badly," she said.

"Why? Is he spreading rumors among the citizens?" Amyrlin asked, alarmed.

"No, sir. His private shuttle took off from Spaceport Theta five hours ago. We tracked its path, and it appears to be heading for Unitology space."

Amyrlin slumped in his chair. As he reached for his cup of thermacoffee, the fax receiver on his desk rang once and printed out a sheet of paper. Amyrlin glanced at it.

"FR: PROSOFT/EMP/N-1/1294910.294.1293/A
TO: AMYRLIN/FCT/C-5/3848293.284.8592/C

MARTIAL LAW IS DECLARED ON BAKUNIN. NO VESSELS SHALL ENTER OR LEAVE WITHOUT MY PERMISSION. ONLY YOU AND BRANDON MAY CONSTRUCT OR MOVE MILITARY VESSELS.

END"

Amyrlin slumped further and reached into his desk, feeling for the vial of zip concealed at the back. It would take more than thermacoffee to get him through this day.

Unitos knows how to pick 'em.

Early days on Dioltas as told by Brother Daniel of the Sionian Resistance

All roads lead to the cliffs of Xanaphia, a sweeping vista overlooking the green hills and vast forests of Dioltas, the new cradle of the Unitology. The grassy cliff was choked with thousands upon thousands of people, each one holding a lit candle, looking intently towards the red glow on the horizon.
Brother Mosely stood at the grey lectern and surveyed the sea of humanity that was waiting for him to speak, every single one wearing the traditional grey cloak that had fled with their owners from galaxy to galaxy, from universe to universe.
“Brothers and Sisters, we gather today to celebrate our faith’s first morning on her new home. Yet again, we have had cause to flee our old worlds due to the greed and cruelty of enemies both old and new, foreign and domestic. And yet again, we have survived. Many still want us dead because of our beliefs, and once again we have a job to do. This job is to show the universe that we WILL NOT die until every last one of us is put to the sword.”
A murmur of assent passed through the crowd. The electricity in the air was tangible, as the pulsating rhythm of a hundred thousand lifeforces united in their welcoming of this new glimmer of hope.
“The coming years will not be easy, my friends. These worlds are barren, and we are anything but alone. We can not falter if we are to survive, but I promise you all, that by the power vested in me, and by the brilliance of my colleagues, and by the sheer virtue of your own faith, that we will spread through the firmament and secure our future once and for all!”
The sun came into brilliant view over the horizon, and the onlookers began to sing the ancient Anthem of Unitos that so many generations had sung before them. As they sang, Brother Daniel, skirting the cliff with the Elite Sionian Guard at his side, raised his Shardrifle to the sky.
“Salute of the New Dawn!” He bellowed, and the crack of the shard rifles sent fifty-one lances of brilliant white energy across the sky. Every onlooker with a gun followed suit, and soon the air was filled with multicolored light and glistening metal. The echo of the cacophony swept the countryside, and when it was heard no more, the grey sea of men turned and started walking.
“That was a fine speech, Mr. President.” Brother Daniel rested the rifle on his shoulder and lit a black cigarette with his free hand. “You’re a veritable Lincoln. I’m glad it was you doin’ it, my voice ain’t what it used to be.”
“Thanks, Dan. How’re the freeholds?” Mosely took off the heavy presidential robe and slung it over his shoulder.
“We’ll get by. An old friend of ours recently joined up. Sam!” An elite guard removed the grey cloth over his nose and mouth, and the unmistakable Gigot strode over. The wind was whipping up now, howling across the ridge. Mosely was shocked.
“You… you’re dead. We still have your embalmed corpse in the Tombs of New Xanaphia.”
“Magic stuff, genesian DNA.” Quipped Gigot. “Mutates so fast, it’ll turn into nearly anything if you give it a genetic blueprint. You’ve got a Genesian transport pilot in your tombs. It’s a shame we can’t get that DNA anymore.”
“Well I’ll be damned.” Said the wind hammered Apopros, fighting across the steppe towards the group. “Crusader, Institutionman and Scorpion Pirate under one banner. Never thought I’d see the day.” Daniel handed him a cigarette and Apopros lit it. “Well, Spade and Bane just arrived in capital city. They want to join up.”
“Why now?” Said Mosely.
“Because this is a new start for the faction.” Said a voice from the side. Murat, a new face, stepped into the circle. “No more dividing lines. You are all old friends here. You just may have the team assembled that can make this thing work once and for all.” Apopros regarded Murat, took a long drag, and tossed the spent cigarette over the cliff’s edge.
“Then let’s make it work.” Said Mosely. “Daniel, can I count on Sionia?”
“As always, Mr. President.”
“Apopros, do I have your word of honor?”
“Honor will be a damn sight easier now that Kurt Killer’s not around to dick things up.”
“Then what are we waiting for? Let’s get to work.” Everyone stood in silence.
“Daniel’s for a pint?” Inquired Gigot. The elite guard behind them cheered. Daniel smirked and hailed his transport. The wind kicked up and the smell of a fresh start waxed sweet in his nostrils. He lagged behind as his comrades walked towards the incoming transport. He looked at the scarlet, rising sun.
“Unitos… we’re really going to need your help this time.” Daniel flicked his cigarette into the wind and followed the others.

GIMME UR MUNNAY!!!1!

Early days in Empyrean territory, as told by Hobbes of Vincere Moneymus


The Council of the Empyrean Commonwealth gathered upon the stage, in front of the mass of Commonwealth dignitaries and VIPs. They were celebrating the creation of a new Credit-Regulation system, that standardized the credits of the Faction. It wasn't spectacularly important, since everyone used the standard UBG credit. But it was official, which meant that everyone went. Hobbes sat in the front row below the stage, watching everyone of the Council leaders carefully. These were some of the most powerful men and women in galaxy. Duo, for being the elected leader of the Commonwealth. Seldon, vice-president and Leader of the Mr Rogers Hood Confederacy, known for its humanitarian work. Kurt "Krazy Eyez" Killer, who had turned down faction presidency for advisorship and lead the infamous Vincere Moneymus Corporation. Tifi, the only female advisor and the woman who headed the Mellow Yellow Empire. And lastly IcedTeaBottle, President of the Anarchy Limited University, and one of the greatest scientists in the Universe. They were a good team, reflected Hobbes. One that might not be found in other circles.


His thoughts paused as Duo strode forward to take the podium and deliever the opening words of the Currency Standardization Ceremony.

_______

"Lets start an Empire," suggested Hobbes.

Duo turned to look at his associate. He raised an eyebrow.

Hobbes felt it neccessary to go on. "We're both responsible experienced Empyreans. No one else has started one, we could become the ruling power."

Duo nodded, mulling it over.

"Why?" he asked.

Hobbes stared. "Uh... for the usual reasons. Make money, become a power. Did I say make money already?"

Duo smiled wanly at Hobbes' obvious joke. "And who would lead?" he asked, dismissing the elephant from the room.

"Er...well...you, I suppose. You've more experience," said Hobbes, shuffling his feet.

Duo shook his head. "No, you'd lead this little endeavor. I'll back you up. That's as much as I can promise."

Hobbes blinked a couple times. He hadn't expected this. "I...well I... thank you."

"Lets just do well, Hobbes."

_______

Seldon rose now, during the interim applause between the finale of Duo's speech and the commencement of Seldon's own. All Empyreans are possessed of noble physical traits, and Seldon was no exception. Standing next to Duo, it looked like a vision of Castor and Pollux, the Gemini. They shook hands and Duo retired to his seat while Seldon took the podium. As he began his list of praises for Credit Standardization, Hobbes' mind drifted back, back to the end of his first chapter.

_______

Anarchy Limited had done well, though Hobbes couldn't credit himself for most of it. He'd hardly done anything but be there. IcedTeaBottle was another old hand and had excelled in research, making him the highest rated man in the empire. Though Hobbes hadn't been able to convince either Tuson or Krazy Eyez Killer to join Anarchy Limited, they'd had successes in any case. Sure, a few members of the Commonwealth's first Empire were a bit unstable, but the new and the old mixed well. During Anarchy LTD's brief religious phase (or lack thereof), Atheism had been born, and by the current polls was defeating the old Unitology in the Galactic religious affiliation ranking. Tuson had left the faction, leaving for that highly ranked Outcast Empire, the TLA. Hobbes couldn't fault him that. What could the Commonwealth offer him at that point? Very little. More than that, Hobbes was going to join the homeless in the core.

He looked down at the Commonwealth homeworld. Traffic streamed around the massive buildings, ships flittered in and out of the atmosphere. It'd be hard to leave the majesty of this world, in its opulent decadence. The system itself was pretty good, and the economy had improved in time. The Empyreans were living up to their potential. Hobbes was proud.

Which is why it was difficult for him to abandon what he had started, leave his empire in the hands of Duo and then head out for the core.

_______

Now Krazy Eyez Killer took the podium. He was very much an interesting character. He was one of the few people Hobbes had ever met that had refused a leadership role, especially at a crucial period of development. But nonetheless, he had seceded his position as president to Duo in favor of an advisor position. He had once been Hobbes' leader, mentor and benefactor, back in another life. Hobbes was proud to be affiliated with him. As he began speaking, Hobbes slib back into the past.

_______

He'd kicked around the core as an outcast for a while, achieving little and establishing nothing. He couldn't be a drifter, alone. Hobbes was not the sort of fellow who lived in solitude. He needed the cut-throat political scene. The inter-faction dynamics of multiple empires. It was him. So he worked his way back, back to live in comfort and luxury on the Commonwealth homeworld. This time, however, he asked his old acquaintance Krazy Eyez Killer to give him shelter. He didn't want to return to an empire he'd abandoned. Vincere Moneymus, a play on an ancient empire from another time, from another KEK, was just the right kind of empire. Quiet, with an emphasis on peace. It was, Hobbes felt, perfect for his own self.

_______

The ceremony concluded, Hobbes stood with the other Commonwealth delegates and applauded. He cheered for all that had been achieved, and all that would be.

The Alliance's Latest Posterchild

Early Days on Bakunin, as told by Wystan of the Disorganized Society of Freedomists

The Alliance had barely been set up on Bakunin when Wystan arrived. It only had two empires, the Alliance of Stargate Pirates and the weirdly named With Honour. And the leader of the ASP was in power as the President, and few people who lasted were on the council. The whole place was just a backwater planet in Wystan's opinion. And apparently it was being ruled by opportunists who could get to vice-president while just asking to be advisor.

The "leaders" of the faction were having a "private" discussion with their entourages when Wystan burst into Liberty Hall, two guards trailing him. As they tried to grab him, he kicked them off, "Get off me, you fascists! I got the right to speak my mind!" The leaders, briggy and Brandon had startled looks as Wystan then berated their empires. "Oh, 'Alliance' is all well and good, but where's the freedom?" Wystan asked the emperors. It was at this point that four guards managed to get a grip on Wystan. "Take this freedomist out of here," ordered briggy, and Wystan was taken from the meeting room, and thrown out of the great doors of Liberty Hall.

It was a rather sore Wystan that proceeded to Heartland City, his personal capital. The Palatial Suite in Freedom Tower in Heartland City was prepared when he arrived, sopping wet and somewhat downtrodden. To the dismay of the Suite cleaning staff, the trash and dirt was brought in on the bottoms of Wystan's jackboots, which to their horror, he then placed on the suite's dining room table. A butler fainted somewhere behind him as he then ate his dinner in his lap.

Wystan awoke the next day when the doorbell rang. He was lying on the carpet at the head of the dining room table. The chair had fallen over in the night, and most of his head was covered in what he assumed was drool. After wiping off the drool, Wystan stood up, and answered the door.

"How did you get in he-" he managed to blurt out before a pistol was stuck in his face. A man was standing in front of him, a pretty tough guy who checked the rooms of the suite before hustling Wystan from the building at gunpoint, and then forcing him into the back seat of a chaufeurred car.

"What the hell is this all about?" asked Wystan, "Who are you?"

The stranger turned to him, "I'm Rotten, and I caught your speech about freedom and liberty. I want to make this 'Empire of the Free' you talked about."

"The nerve you have!" exclaimed Wystan, "You put a gun in my face, then abduct me, totally disregarding any conventional wisdom, totally forgetting about proper procedures... Dammit, why didn't you do this sooner! Of course, I can see a fellow Freedomist when he kidnaps me!"

Overnight, the faction had changed. No longer did the juggernaut of the the ASP control the faction. briggy's With Honour empire had been peacefully overthrown by fellow Freedom-lover Andistyr, in his Dralrak Alliance. From the shadows of the faction arose the Knights of Darkness, whose purpose the other empires had only hints at. And Wystan had built the Disorganized Society of Freedomists, dedicated to preserving freedom and liberty throughout the Universe. A free society was being dreamed up on the streets of Bakunin. A society full of hope and goodness.

All in all, wished Wystan, maybe Freedom can be free.

One of the nicer Outcast neighborhoods.

Early days in the core as told by Seifun of the TLA.

There was a rapping on the door. And it wouldn’t go away. This was troublesome because Siefun would really like it if he could only keep sleeping. It was one of those days, when you know that if you do wake up its just gonna be one huge headache from start to finish. And hiding won’t help things much but hell you feel like being irrational so everyone else can just shut it.

Except Everyone Else wasn’t shutting it. On the contrary, Everyone Else seemed to be making dire threats of finding the powerdrill. This could probably be safetly ignored, but Siefun had a pretty good idea exactly who Everyone Else was now.

“Wait! Basileus! I spent good money on that door!”

Too late. The door came down with almost unseemly haste, considering the purchase price, and the wily little tomatoe bot bounced in. Without the slightest regard for propriety, the tomatoe hopped upon the chest of his master. “Get up.”

Siefun eyeballed the purplish blob perched on him. “While your sitting on me? The least you can do is help me up.”

“Let’s not forget that I don’t have hands.”

“You handled that powerdrill alright.”

“I have a natural propensity for destructive instruments. NOW GET UP. We’ve arrived at our destination. And there’s a pencil on your desk.”

“That counts as destructive?”

“Heh.’”

-
Dear journal: We made landfall today. Where I’m not quite sure. We just kinda showed up insystem, and all of our travel logs have been mysteriously deleted. Its like we just popped into orbit. More on this later. Note: Never doubt Basil again.
-

Land was cleared, shops were built, and for a while all went pretty smoothly. Farming was hard work though, made all the more strange because the world was perfect for sustaining life. The complete absence of all precious minerals was the cause of much distress for many of the colonies women, but things were soon solved on that regard.

Siefun rolled up the blueprint with a nice snap that made him feel quite important. Nevermind that he hadn’t done any work. Turning to the assembled crowd, he began to recite his majestically inspiring (prompted) speech. “Today is the dawn of a new era. With the breaking in of this...what’s that word? Oh right that’s what we built... Diamond Mine we shall have the capability to build ships and soar once more into the stars...”

Just as he was waxing quite poetic, (and invoking sad headshakes by the teleprompting team) he was interrupted by a rather sick looking young engineer, who came running in with an air of sad frenzied defeatism. Much like a lemming. “Ah...my liege..?”

“What’s that? Speak up lad!”

“The...the engineers made a mistake. Our colony hulls don’t actually need diamonds. Ha ha.”

“Whazzit? I better have misheard that you little rascal!”

-
Dear Journal: Colonies are beginning to degenerate into festering cesspits of sickness, crime, and unemployment. This is hard. Furthermore, spent half my money on a unneeded mine. Diamond are now cheaper than iron. Noticed with NO amusement dog collar carved entirely from a huge diamond while on a stroll. The dog also tried to bite me. Note: Outlaw dogs. Sell as food? Check with public relations department.
-

Siefun glared glumly at the sky. Anything was better than looking at the urban sprawl that surrounded him. Overnight his nice, respectable citizens had transformed into a bunch of shifty, lazy, hypochondriacs. Siefun’s vision was momentarily obscured as a man in rags approached, leered at him, made a vaguely obscene gesture, then threw a used condom at his feet before shuffling off.

“Hey! Where’d you get that!? AND YOUR SUPPOSED TO RECYCLE Unitos take you all!” With a groan, Siefun turned his attention skyward, just in time to see three refugee craft blaze through reentry. “Well I’ll be. Neighbors. I wonder if I still have that casserole recipe...Basileus will know.”

After several attempts to hail the new arrivals met only with icy silence, Siefun, the eternal optimist, decided to put together a welcoming party. This consisted of him, the vegetable bot, and a casserole. Advancing onto the new colony, they were waved through by steely eyed guards. The casserole was confiscated. Basileus was mistaken for a strange exotic dish. Siefun was prodded in private areas.

A few misunderstandings later, they were ushered into the view of a rather scruffy, scowling man. For a moment, no one spoke.

Coughing politely, Siefun made a brave attempt to start up a conversation. “So. Your Final Exit?”

No response.

“A lackey perhaps?”

The scowl worsened.

“Maybe he’s a deaf mute,” suggested Basileus. “Try tapping out something in code. Something like: its tragic you were born without a tongue.”

Siefun was actually giving this serious consideration before the man spoke. “What is that?” A stubby finger jabbed at the bot.

“That’s my tomatoe bot.”

“Is that a PROBE?” Final Exit’s voice began to raise several octaves.

“What? We’re on the same planet. It wouldn’t even matter if he was a probe, which, by the way, he isn’t, and I find this reception to be decidedly rud...”

“IS THAT A PROBE?”

-
Dear Journal: Making friends is hard. Note: Basileus needs fixin’. Inquire about ‘attitude readjustment’ while in shop.
-

Siefun was headed for the bathroom, all unassuming, when Basileus dropped onto his head with a plop. “Yo Siefun.”

“What? For crying out loud man do you like camp out where I go just to ambush me? You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“Don’t give me ideas. Now. Have I got the intel for you! We’ve been intercepting a lot of outcast messages. Empires are being formed. Terra Pirates. Duckshot Brigade. I think its time for us to get into that action. ”

So contacts were contacted and strings were stringed. Then pulled. All culminating in a face to face meeting with Nestle. Siefun in tow, Basileus hopped toward the meeting area, the weight of the moment leaning heavily on his rounded shoulders.

“This is important Siefun. This is historic. This is epochal. If we pull this off, we’ll be able to leech off others and live in cushy comfort for the rest of our days.”

“Um,” agreed Siefun.

Soon they were ushered into the presence of the great man himself. He bore a more than passing resemblance to Final Exit. Apparently outcasts were all supposed to dress in a specific way. Siefun had to resist the urge to quickly unkempt himself.

“Oh great leader Nestle. I am here to offer you my alliegance. I think you’ll find that I...”

“Yes yes thats wonderful. Just sign this form and this form...we’ll get you enrolled for the mandatory health insurance and you will be set.”

“Health insurance? Wait...how much does it cost?”

“Do you want to risk the lives of your children? DO YOU?”

“Well no but...uh...I don’t have any children?”

“Never you mind. You see Siefun...” Nestle paused for emphasis. “We’re all outcasts here. Disparate groups of people living in far flung systems. We lack the cohesion, the coordination of the factions. To compete, we have to learn to trust each other. I think you’ll find that nothing brings people closer together than a shared health plan. And marriage.” Another pause. “You did say you don’t have any children?”

“Not a single one.”

“Pity.”

Siefun cleared his throat. “Well...I’ll sign these then. But this just isn’t a scheme to sell health insurance is it?”

“Hahaha! You’re a funny guy Siefun. Real funny. Just sign the dam...” The robotic form of Basileus suddenly caught Nestle’s eye. “Whats that? Is that a probe?”

“No it’s a..”

“YOU BROUGHT A PROBE HERE?”

Where it ended before it began.

Humans once told many stories of God made flesh, no one recalls the stories anymore, but he knows them all. He liked them. For all his outward appearances he was a lonely being and even the smallest glimmer of a kindred spirit gave him comfort.

At least he didn’t have to conceal his mood to those around him like he did so much of himself. The weather fit the occasion perfectly, overcast and uncomfortable without even the promise of rain to add some much needed coolness to the atmosphere.

Upon a small hill on a diminutive and sparsely populated world he attended another funeral. He found himself numb to the grief openly showed by the people around him. It wasn’t that he was void of emotion, the opposite was probably more likely, but he was burnt out.

Kill one man, and you are a murderer. Kill millions of men, and you are a conqueror. Kill them all, and you are a god.

“I’m almost a God,” he thought to himself. The deaths weighed heavily upon him. He relived everyone from his own unique perspective many times. Billions dead due to his ignorance, millions dead due to his actions. He seemed cursed to offer nothing but death wherever he turned his attentions. He wondered how many had died during his absence. It had been an age, perhaps even longer, he wasn’t even sure there was a human term for the time since he had shed his role.

And yet he saw them still call out to him; he heard them every moment of his existence. Even what passed for dreams were beset by the voices. They would not call out his name if the blood on his hands was known but it had long dried. Even he had to think back to the times before this reality when all was ended by the arrogance of men and their God.

He had sought to atone but left nothing but more death behind him. It was then he decided to create life and to seek the wisdom only it could bring, He abandoned his powers and fled to a simple existence. This was his 152nd simple existence and his 152nd partner being laid to rest. It didn’t get any easier.

In that moment he decided it was time, anything more was self indulgence, a trait he was determined not to succumb to. The moment had been long in the planning, almost 11 centuries, and the transition was simple.

On a small hill in surrounded by old friends and children an old man died at the funeral of his lifelong partner.

In a reality long abandoned by conscious thought a being returned. He turned his will upon the task of seeding life across the desiccated husk of the universe.

Unitos resolved he would not see this new family perish before him.

The Wrath of Unitos

When the decision was made to leave the old realms of this universe behind, it was the leaders and thinkers of every faction volunteering for the task. They saw to it, that their applications were accepted. When the fleet departed, virtually every empire and faction was left behind leaderless. At first it was only the ambitious young hotshots fighting for a piece of the cake, but after a short while every colonist realized that progress had come to a standstill. They were used to corruption, used to being ignored by the powers that be, but now things were different. Colony institution lacked funding, despite ever increasing taxes to fill the pockets of whoever ran the show that day.

It were the so-called leaders of the alliance, who were going to use this chaos to liberate, as they called it, the colonies of the all other factions. HFE being regarded the undisputed military power in that world was set as the first target. Many an alliance colonist was starving, schools were closed and the buildings rotting, but the shipyards were bustling with activity. Corvettes, battleships, even spheres, were being produced at an unbelievable rate. The smaller colonies were forced to pump out fighters and bombers to be stationed on the massive titanium structures.

After 4 months 7 fleets launched from the Alliance homeworld towards known HFE hotspots. Each one of them carrying more firepower than has ever been seen during the old days. They struck and they struck hard. No single system could muster the defences to even touch them. Until they reached the association home world. Every vessel under association control had been ordered to this system to defend the upcoming onslaught, and it looked as if they would even stand a chance against the first assault fleet arriving.

But before a shot could be fired a single battleship descended from the suns flare slowly moving between the two messengers of death himself. Every association commander knew what it was: a manifestation of Unitos himself, once created in this system to punish the association for their attack on Unitalia. The Alliance had heard of the event, but were not able to make the connection - and so the order was given: "Concentrate all fire on the flagship". They hadn't known that this was not an association flagship, but the tool of a god.

More than one thousand corvettes dived towards the moloch charging their arrays of primary cannons, when a barrage of defensive battery fire, to humans a weapon for taking out attacking fighters, tore through every single capital ship. Those volleys missing the attackers traveled through the main lines of the alliance fleet, ripping even through the mightly spheres. What followed was a massacre. Arriving alliance reinforcements were met by inhuman destructive power the moment they entered the system. With surgical precision the battle was ended within minutes by the spirit of the Unitology.

None of the association ships had dared to move an inch. Fear radiating of every crew member time came to a standstill. But before someone could make the wrong decisision the battleship drifted towards the sun, where it had come from.

Not having learned form their lesson, the association started to plan their counter-strike. The alliance now stripped of all major forces was considered an easy target.

What leaders of all factions did not know is that every king needs his people. Word spread through space from colony to colony: "Rise! Fight the opression!". To the peasant politics mean little. What today is a commonwealth colony could be a crimson moon base tommorow. The names change, the people don't. And so every civilian rose to the call. At first it were small revolts. A pirated AA tower would shoot down a few fighters, before the military ceased control again. Soon it were two AA towers, guided missile launchers, fighters, bombers. Chaos became the credo of the day. Not faction against faction, but military against civilians. But if every single peasant takes to arms the victory is a stale one: A colony without people is a military base, stripped of all economy power and production capacity. And so it came - after several weeks of bloody fighting only free colonies and fleets and bases were left.

It was a long trip from association space to the alliance home system. A formidable fleet entered the system, ready to claim what they considered theirs. They expected some resistance, but what their scanners reported came most unexpected. Two alliance spheres, well armed and with destroyer support, were within the margin of expected resistance. The commanders of the fleet had been following the news, so even the small association carrier group did not raise many eyebrows. It was the report of 74 strategic battlegroups compromised of commonwealth, unitology, and even crimson moon units, that came completely unexpected. As if they weren't utterly outnumbered already, a well-known huge battleship was hovering behind the defenders.

It was that day, when the last of the old factions found their end at the hands of the free people.

After all was said and done one battleship plotted a course unknown and out of range to everyone who remained. He could not help it - he was bound to his people and their fate.

Let's have no undue fussin'.

The Institution's finest were furious to find out that several of the great voyager vessels in the Exodus were holding the Unitology's leaders, cryogenically frozen in gene therapy tanks. Secret chambers deep within the IEV Zephyr and IEV Vigilance held hundreds of such stowaways, who had been reawakened every few decades to ensure the success of their revolutionary plot. Further genetic investigation revealed that the entire population of the two ships was Unitology stock, traceable to Abrigo, Mesina, Amelie and other population centers. Officials were flabbergasted at how such an operation could have taken place right under their noses, and this strengthened their resolve to set things right.

The leaders and their families were abruptly reanimated and put under armed guard. Though execution was a feasible option, the wise officials of the Institution realized that an execution of the beloved leaders of two ships full of colonists could result in full-blown chaos. Instead, they turned to the only other option avaliable to them. The Zephyr and Vigilance were each equipped with a mid-range shuttle. The officials locked down all navigation equipment, and quickly hustled the detainees into what would presumably be the last space flight they ever took. It would be a simple matter to activate the engines from the exterior, and send the enemies of progress into the black, never to be seen again. The colonists on the Zephyr and Vigilance could be reconditioned. With this goal in mind, the shuttles were aimed in opposite directions, and all at once, everything the Templars and Sionians had left disappeared into space.

As a result, when the Underground commandeered the IEV Shamrock & IEV Dortmunder one week later, no right-minded Institution officer thought twice about the Unitology. The Shamrock was already fully powered, in another few minutes the Dortmunder would be ready to jump out of the system as well, nothing the Institution could conjure up could hope to stop it except for blowing them partially or completely out of the sky. Several million colonists was no object when one considered the Underground's threat to stability. Nobody noticed when two shuttles drew up alongside the line's rearmost ships.

---------------------------------------

The airlock was sealed within moments as boarding clamps latched onto the side of the Vigilance. Charges blew through the alloy of the ship's hatch, and a ragtag group poured through the entrance. "Down! Everybody down! I want to see guns on the ground and hands in the air!" It had been a long time since Brother Daniel had boarded a ship, but after being frozen on and off for several hundred years, he figured it good for one to beat the feeling back into one's legs. The room they had entered, the Security staff entertainment wing, had about 15 Institution guards of various ages. "If any of you gents know the codeword we agreed on, now would be the time to say it." Declared Brother Daniel flatly. Four of the guards raised their hands. Thadmor had made a fine plan, he thought. Planting moles in the security system that acted like repentant Unitologists hoping to join up with the straight-and-narrow Institution boys was practically foolproof. "All together Now" he said, brandishing a centuries-old shard impact rifle at everyone.

"Gavarai, thodarim nas meeck" said the four in unison.
"Excellent! Look like we've got ourselves some friends. " Said Brother Moseley, stepping out of the airlock, carrying a crate of weapons. "Did they arm you boys very well?"
"No." Said one of the fake guards. "Nothing but a few old Laser carbines. We made sure to sabotage the charging system, so none of 'em are going to get off more than two shots." Suddenly, one of the Institution guards made a grab for his weapon. There was a loud bang, and where his hand once was remained only bloodstain and bone fragments.

"Huh." Said Brother Daniel, looking crossways at Spitfire, who ejected a casing from his impact shotgun. "Unitos gave you decent aim."
"Just heard from Sister Thadmor." Said Moseley, unloading some Shard rifles and throwing them to the fake guards. "Brother Michael and the Templars are on the Zephyr. Say they'll have the bridge in five minutes."
"Unitos have mercy. Da-shiong bao-jah-shr duh la doo-tze, you damned weakling! " said Daniel, trying to speak over the wailing of the recently handless guard. "I guess we've got to make it in four. Now, as for you boys whom my friend Spitfire has shown a certain fondness for shootin'. We're not going to kill you. I'm not looking to see any more bloodstains on a vessel as fine as this. When this is all over, we'll let you join up with us or put you in this shuttle to go on home, as you prefer. But you'd all be advised to keep your eyes trained on your kneecaps, because that's what we shoot first if you get uppity. "

The Sionians spread through the Vigilance quickly and with deadly precision. They encountered minimal resistance in the corridors of the great ship, the weakened lasers giving only minor burns to those few unfortunate enough to get hit by the wild shots of the panicked security forces. These obstacles were kneecapped and subdued by simple nerve punches, and the task force was soon on the bridge.
The bridge wasn't quite ready for the new arrivals. They were overwhelmed within seconds, the stammering captain put up his arms in surrender as the commandoes secured the area.

"Well, this is a beautiful thing right here." Said Daniel, looking at the cowering Institution crew. "This is the best the 'ol purples can send to oppress the likes of us. Hell, I'm insulted. I'd have thought we were a measure more dangerous." Brother Moseley was about to radio to Mike to see who had won the race to the bridge when a volley of lasers shot through the right side of a Sionian commando.
"TYEN shiao-duh!" Exclaimed Spitfire as beams ricocheted off synthmetal and equipment, sending sparks flying. All eyes turned towards the port side door as five heavily-armored Institution shock troops lined up, trauma laser rifles shouldered and ready to fire.

"The will of the Institution cannot be thwarted so easily, Unitology scum." Spat the shock trooper sergeant. "Fire on my command." The commandoes went for their weapons, but the action was cut short by a volley of gunfire from behind the troopers. Their weak rear armor fell to titanium-tipped rounds, and as the corpses of the shock troops hit the ground, a very distinctive gunshot report met Brother Daniel's ears. He recognized that sound from the old days, during the first battle of Abrigo. "Alliance. Dale-Tex RCC-150 Ares Antipersonnel Rifle. Dalex, you old son of a crabrock, get over here!" He laughed.

From behind the bulkhead stepped a smiling old Admiral Dalex, wearing a battered Alliance flak jacket, followed by Commander Ravennites, who was snapping another clip into place. "I keep telling you fellows to stop using that high-tech shard shee-niou." Said the former Alliance powerhouse. “Good old fashioned bullets can‘t be beat."

"You see any other armored purples on the way in?" Said Moseley, "I warned Brother Michael, he said they aren't anywhere to be found on the Zephyr."
"No, we're quite safe." Said the aged voice of Chancellor Zen Amydros, stepping onto the bridge while shouldering a Commonwealth trench shotgun. "They send special divisions in groups of ten. I dispatched the other five several minutes ago, they were trying to flank us."
"Well I'll be damned, Grandpa." Said Daniel, "Hasn't it been a while since you've shotgunned any folk?"
"Like riding a hovercycle." Said the Chancellor. "I say, Brother Moseley, have you repossessed the ship yet?"

"Yes sir. Thirty seconds and we'll be out of this system. " said Moseley, powering up the engine core. "The Underground is doing a fine job of distracting the feds. "
"Beautiful. Remind me to send a thank-you note to Delarossi." Said Brother Daniel. "But where we're going, we probably won't be seeing the rebels or anyone else for some time. This burn is going to deplete the Vigilance's fuel."
"Wait, where are we going, Dan?" Said Dalex. "We just jetting into the black with the hope of finding something?"
"Don't you worry, Admiral." Said Brother Daniel. He switched on his intercom. "Mike, are we set for burn? Good. " He turned back to his comrades. "We sent out some jerry-rig probes a few months back. We've found a good system. Decent place for us to raise our families. Unitos willing, it'll be just like home."

---------------------------------------

"Well are their rutting shields gone at least?" Raged the commander of the IEV Northstar, "I want that ship immobile or in pieces within 30 seconds! I don't care how you get it done, just do it!" A staff sergeant came up behind the commander.
"Sir?" he said, tentatively.
"Be quick, sergeant. "
"It's the Vigilance and Zephyr, sir."
"Of course! Order them to move to 33, 81, 21 local coordinates. They'll be in perfect position for a good broadside on the engine columns of the Dortmunder. "
"No, sir. You don't understand. They've disappeared. We‘re also having trouble locating the shuttle that launched from the Firebird a few minutes ago... "
There was a very awkward silence on the bridge, apart from the rumblings of the Underground counterattacks. The commander closed his eyes. This was not one of his better days.

A neutron star on the verge to a black hole.

The remains of what was once the home to hundreds of brave voyagers floats lifeless in space - a massive steel body, created to withstand small meteor showers and anything space could throw at it for hundreds of years. A gaping hole in its starboard side opens the view into a devastated med-bay - the body of a patient still stripped into the bio scanner.

Slowly the ghost ship orbits a neutron star in the central bulge of the alpha galaxy. After a shower of shrapnell from a destroyed vessel disabled its ship computer, the collision with another colonizer of its fleet instantly depressurized the hull, killed everyone onboard, and slung the massive construction of steel and titanium towards the celestial body.

Despite its extreme velocity it could not resist the gravity of a highly condensed star. It was pulled into an ever declining orbit.

When the pride of human engineering collided with the remnant of the universes most ancient history, the foundations of the cosmos itself shook. A gravitational wave ripped through einsteins perfect balance of mass and energy, altering the dimensions of space.

The newly arrived visitors of this region of space could not explain why their just recently drawn starmaps did not make sense anymore.

While one omnipotent being watched in awe, humanity will never solve this riddle.

Selected Entry from Crew Journal: Delta Generation
(PID# 85937)
My grandfather passed away today. He was part of the original crew of this voyage that set off from the old galaxy cluster. They officially announced that we are indeed headed to a new unknown galaxy cluster, although everybody pretty much assumed that. The rumors started a long time ago, and they were very tight lipped about it. I guess they wanted to make sure we were far enough away to stop any potential spies from broadcasting our mission. I wonder who leaked the information in the first place?

Selected Entry from Personal Journal
(PID# 38994)
We just woke up from our sleep a little bit ago. They urged us to write in our journals. Apparently these are being catalogued and saved in a giant archive for future study. Why anybody would read this mess I have no idea. None of the crew is the same as when I went to sleep, and that is weirding me out a little bit. They said they are on "Epsilon Generation" but I have no idea what that means. They are using the old Greek Alphabet for everything these days, and I didn't bother learning it before I went into hibernation. We are all to report to the viewing windows tomorrow at 0900 hours for the deceleration ceremonies. The stars of the new galaxies are so bright and vivid. The announcement that we headed to a whole new galaxy cluster blew my mind. The crew wasn’t impressed because they've known for a while, but I was floored, as were the rest of my sleeping comrades.

Selected Entry from Crew Journal: Epsilon Generation
(PID# 100327)
I just got back to my bunk for the first time in two days, that explains the lack of journal updates for the past few days. I'll try to wrap up everything in few sentences, although that hardly does the tragedy any justice. We started to decelerate, and everything was fine. Because of navigation bugs the entire program had been rewritten in the second generation. This was when a ship also accelerated for no reason and contact was lost. Well when we came into view of our first system the ship was there, just floating lifeless. The navigation program was not meant to handle such rapid evasive maneuvers, so the Admiral of the fleet ordered the lead ship to open fire on the lost ship. It did, and the ship exploded into a million pieces. There was little cause for celebration, as the piece from the ship, some very large, shot towards the fleet. We don’t know yet how many ships we lost or what the total causuality count is, but it is high. There were chain reactions, ships careening off course and hitting each other, and in short it has been a nightmare. The captains of the few undamaged ships have been in meetings trying to assess the damage, but some of the other ships' captains are being uncooperative. I need to sleep before I can think about this anymore.

Selected Entry from Crew Journal: Epsilon Generation
(PID# 100957)
We have been busy trying to locate all the escape pods from the doomed ships, but many are lost forever. Maybe they can survive until we can send out rescue parties, I have no knowledge of what the escape pods contain or how long they can support a human life. Some of the ships broke off and ran. We fired on them but they had a head start, and we could not stop them. For now a temporary government has been established, and we are headed to the nearest habitable system. Only the history books will be able to complete sum up what happened here over the last week, I cannot even begin to fathom the damage this has done to our expedition. I hope we are able to survive.

Selected Entry from a Personal Journal
(Personal Identification Designation # 56442)
Faces from our old lives watched us load onto the ships like cattle. We had passed the rigorous exams, the painstakingly long confirmation process. We were undoubtedly the best of the best, selected to make the journey. The empires under our control would be passed off to our seconds in command. I know they will be well watched over. I now sit in my bunk, awaiting the signal that we have entered cruise speed. They said it would take approximately five hours, but as of now seven have passed. The ships are tested for deep space flight, but not fully loaded with personnel and cargo. I bet they forgot to take that into consideration. I'm going to go find out what is taking so long.

Selected Entry from Crew Journal: Alpha Generation
(PID# 719)
We finally locked down the bug in the navigation system. We nearly had two of the ships collide during pre-deep space positioning. It took a few extra hours, but it brought to our attention something that would have been very damaging when we went from deep space to subspace speed once we reached the new destination. They haven't told us where we're even going. This is supposedly the greatest accomplishment of mankind though—all of the factions and divisions of men uniting for a common project. I can't believe I agreed to crew this mission. They said it should take three or four generations to reach the target. The important candidates are asleep in their cells, I wonder if they dream? The best leaders from our old lives all dreaming their impossible dreams. I will never see land again; I will live and die on this ship. Hell, it's not that bad, the benefits are great and the man to woman ratio is excellent.

Selected Entry from Crew Journal: Beta Generation
(PID# 78971)
We lost contact with one of the ships. The computers have been buggy from the moment the journey started, from what my parents told me. Apparently everything that is computer controlled has been one problem after another. They are talking about simplifying the algorithms and relying on more human involvement. After the acceleration problems in the ship we just lost, discussion has once again been shifted towards the need for a solution. The ship was going fast; we all saw it on the news feed. My dad said they are probably dead, he said humans can't survive the forces it takes to accelerate that fast. The ship will probably fly on forever, until it hits something. I hope somebody is around to see it.

Selected Entry from Crew Journal: Beta Generation
(PID# 79052)
Two months ago one of the ships in the 150 ship convoy sped off for no reason at all. Counting the one ship that lost and engine and was left behind and the two ships that collided today, that makes four ships lost so far. The investigation of if the ships collided because of an engine failure or a navigation problem is still underway. I don’t think they'll ever find out but the video of it is chilling. Rumor has been spreading that we are headed to a new galaxy cluster that was found with deep space telescopes. It is in an entirely different quadrant of the Universe, outside of any known space. These are just rumors I guess, because according to my professor all of the galaxies have been charted and catalogued, even if we can't get to them physically. He said we can see to the edge of space. The rumors are probably just lies anyway. If they aren’t, then man shall live forever, because all the problems of the old galaxy cluster will never follow us here.

Brother Mosely in quiet contemplation.

Guided by the Will of Unitos, I have seen a universe different from the one we live in now: galaxies were arranged in a different pattern and each galaxy exhibited a certain uniqueness in size and shape; the suns were no longer seemingly strewn about, but instead followed the plan Unitos originally intended; and even the worlds themselves were different from those here in our failing macrocosm. It was paradise.

Yet, despite this new universe in all its rapturous glory I sensed, no I knew, that something was missing. I realized that in this new universe we were different: I was there, but not there; my fellow brothers and sisters were there, but not there; and worst of all Unitos in all his power was NOT there, not there at all. We were all different in this paradise.

After discovering our alter egos and their different empires and organizations and factions, I panicked and returned to my place here in our current universe. I returned and wept, knowing that when this universe finally releases us all from the realm of existence we will be reborn into this paradise, unknowing and oblivious to the loss of our former selves and of Unitos.

Why have you left us in the next life, Unitos? Why?

SOMEBODY FIRE

Nighttime on Abrigo had been silent for months after the second Battle of Abrigo tore the skies asunder with destructive fury. Now the association banner on top of the Tomb of Unitos colony administration center fluttered slightly under a night breeze, and the reflection of Abrigo's twin moons illuminated the streets of the captive city with an eerie blue glow.
"Halt!" Two obscured figures stopped their nocturnal trek at the command of an Association Peacekeeper. The Peacekeepers had been founded by top lieutenants of the infamous Spazzhole himself, bound by neural implants and hefty doses of loyalty serum. They were glorified by the Association propaganda ministry as defenders of the people, and the first step towards Unitology-Association friendship. However, every descendant of those who survived the invasion of Unitalia knew them only for the fragmentation rounds that daily slew Unitologists for crimes never brought before a court of law. For months the Peacekeeper corps had been trying to stamp out their places of worship, where Anthems to Unitos crept out amid the early morning silence. However, every time one was found and liquidated, another one would pop up somewhere. And so, the powers of the peacekeepers increased, and public executions had become a commonplace practice, where those accused of criminal misconduct against the HFE were killed en masse by firing squad.
"Keep your hands where I can see 'em." Grumbled the peacekeeper. "A level 12 security clearance is required within one mile of the Administration building after 2400 hours. "
"And we have ours right here, sir." Said the first walker, now revealed by the moonlight as a young man of not more than 22, with disheveled red hair. Sionian heritage, no doubt. He produced a magnetic card, and presented it to the peacekeeper, who fumbled it around with his heavy synthmat gauntlets. He slid it through the identification sensor on his belt, and a mechanical voice droned "Level 12 clearance, Sergeant Eamon MacManus, Counter-Insurgent Operative." The Peacekeeper was vaguely disappointed. The neural implants gave him a sense of complete contentment when getting rid of criminals, and he held a special hatred for Sionians. His brother was killed in the first invasion of Unitalia by Sionian shard batteries, and he had signed up for Peacekeeper service as soon as he heard of them.
"Let me see hers." Said the Peacekeeper, gesturing with his bayonet towards the Red-haired woman behind the Sergeant.
"This is my sister, Deirdre. She got lost in the city and I'm bringing her back to our HabShelter. "
The peacekeeper sneered. "She's got no right to be here. You two are under arrest." He cocked his rifle and brandished it towards them.
"Sir!" Said the Sergeant with a severe tone. "We are making our way peacefully through this district. Why are you accosting us?"
"It sounds pretty suspicious, a couple of 'yonies walking alone at night. Why didn't you take the magtubes? " Demanded the peacekeeper, savoring his luck.
"After last week's insurgent attacks on the tubes, I'd rather not risk my sister's life, sir. Please, let us go." His voice was gravely calm, making the peacekeeper nervous. His neural implants sensed the fear, and sent a signal to his ChemPack. Syringes connected to his spine injected another dose of loyalty serum. The peacekeeper's eyes dilated behind his infrared mask, but no one could see the chemical imbalance in his brain. Instinctual urges took him over, and he saw the beautiful woman standing behind the sergeant.
"You can go. You can go as long as I get some exercise with the wench." His voice could not disguise the lust in his spirit. " 'Yonie or not, she's the best piece I've ever seen." He moved, shoving the Sergeant aside and making for the retreating girl. She pulled something off of her back, and it suddenly crackled with electricity. The peacekeeper's brain recognized it. Sionian Ninjato, vibrating sword. Outlawed everywhere. What did she have one for? Then she disappeared. Motion sensors in his mask told him to look up, where he saw a whirlwind silhouetted against one of the moons. The girl landed on the peacekeeper's back, and drove the blade with lightning precision into the brute's spine. With his last dying moan, he saw the sergeant pulling out an identical blade, activating it, and swinging it towards his neck.
As the soldier's head dropped to the ground, the two deactivated their swords and bolted towards the administration building. The young man produced a baton, and fired a filament into the ledge of the twenty-story high institution, and the two held onto the baton like vices as the magnetic recovery system dragged them to the top. The girl's sword made short work of a fiberglass skylight, and the two dropped into a dark hallway. Their eyes instantly adjusted to the darkness, and they sprinted towards the end of the hall where a door marked "Colony Power Grid" was waiting. Suddenly red light spilled through the building, and a low siren awoke the administration's security staff. Unflinching, the man set a particle detonation charge on the iron door and the two ducked into doorways as the explosion ripped the door to pieces. The girl leapt into the room, and immediately started flying across the keyboard attached to the massive supercomputer that controlled every volt of electricity in Tomb of Unitos.
"How much time to you need?" Said the man, taking a small handgun out of his jacket.
"Three Minutes. " replied the girl, staring intently at the screen as layer after layer of electronic countermeasures fell in her drive towards her query.
Soldier's boots clattered across tile. The man moved with the speed of thought, and intercepted the first armor-clad guard with a striking hand that destroyed the nerve cluster at the base of his neck. The first fell to the ground as the man's shard pistol fired its first round into the face of the second guard. The third, not fully through the door yet, was taken completely off-guard at the death of two of his comrades within a couple seconds. He was even more surprised when a particle detonation charge latched itself onto his face and he was kicked back through the door into the other guards that now came streaming up the stairs into the blood splattered hallway. The door was shut as the explosion ripped five more guards into molecules. The heat welded the door to its frame, but soon the sounds of battering rams could be heard against the portal, threatening to break it at any moment. The man stashed his shard pistol and picked up the massive assault rifle carried by the guards. As the titanium ram battered a hole in the door, the man mercilessly loosed round after round into the attackers until the last of the magazines was empty. He tossed one of the fallen men's fragmentation grenades through the largest of the holes and ran back into the computer chamber, where he found his sister still typing.
"Deirdre!" He panted. "How much longer?"
"Thirty Seconds" Came her reply, with a calm that would not be broken. "Have faith, Eamon. We have already won. "
Eamon smiled and fired his shard pistol with deadly accuracy at the first of the guards to enter the hall. Twenty seconds. He walked briskly forward, firing again and again, the crystalline projectiles splintering inside their targets.
Ten Seconds. Eamon activated his sword and cut a soldier's gun in half. He kicked the guard's head against the wall, crushing his skull. He spun and impaled another guard through the neck, who gargled for a second until the sword was jerked free and driven into the ribcage of another.
Five seconds. The shard pistol screamed three rounds into the first guard who was actually able to shoot in Eamon's direction. Suddenly, a loud magnetic driver cracked, and a sniper's railgun drove a steel shaft through Eamon's chest. The elite peacekeeper sniper smiled at his skill, and signaled his team forward. Then a shard sailed from Eamon's pistol and exploded inside the sniper's cortex.
In the computer chamber, Deirdre pressed a final few buttons. Power Shutdown. Target: All Duration: Indefinite. Execute.
All across the massive colony, generators whined and deactivated. Factories ground to a halt. Startled families in millions of HabShelters fumbled for flashlights in the darkness and confusion.
Deirdre saw her brother still breathing in the darkness. She dislodged him from the wall and checked his vitals. He would survive. The random gunfire of the guards and the scramble to find a light source made their escape certain, She leapt through the skylight with Eamon with unearthly grace, and activated a small comlink in her bracelet. "Speaker, it is done. " She secured the baton's filament to the ledge and repelled over the edge, carrying her brother. They disappeared into the darkness and confusion of the city.
The emergency generators in the Association defense power grid spun up. All guns turned towards the sky. The only lights the city produced were floodlights above the hangars where technicians and engineers made last-minute adjustments to the fleets of fighters and battleships that rested on the ground. That was when the moons of Abrigo suddenly stopped shining.
The first volley from the Templar battleships disintegrated hundreds of structures within moments. Attack orders from Templar and Sionian colonies crackled across Unitology frequencies. Five massive disc-shaped craft positioned themselves above the city, their shields absorbing shots from hundreds of batteries simultaneously. Then massive fighter and bomber wings dropped from behind the Shieldships and loosed their volleys, as the Generals and Governors of the association screamed over their comlinks to get everything they had into the sky. But it was too late; Squadrons of Fighters and Bombers bearing the Silver Insignia of Unitos were flying low over the city, tearing association fighters and bombers to pieces before they had a chance to get off the ground.
In the command chamber many miles away in Avenger's Redoubt, Brother Daniel, Thadmor, Gigot and the rest of the Sionian Federation's leaders watched the battle from afar. Out the windows they could see the explosions dot the horizon. Brother Daniel looked at the latest battle reports from the front; and then stared at the map of Tomb of Unitos displayed on a different screen. A look of horror crossed his eyes.
"Thadmor, come here." He said.
"Yes, Speaker?" replied Thadmor, diverting her attention from ordering reinforcements into battle.
"Come look at this map... we're striking the AA sites first. We overlooked something... these emplacements are directly over the HabShelters. Brother Moseley, can you get a feed from one of the Xanaphian Bomber Squadrons? "
"Yes, Speaker. " Said Brother Moseley, tapping on some keys. "Link Established. "
Onboard cameras displayed their feeds on the screen just as the Xanaphian wing was diving in for an attack. Energy flew from the bomber's cannons, destroying several AA batteries.
"Zoom in!" ordered Brother Daniel. The computer responded and enlarged the image. Beneath the AA guns, a HabShelter complex was seen collapsing.
"Speaker," Said Thadmor, activating a separate screen. "Those hab complexes are designed to collapse if subjected to too much shock. A fighter wouldn't collapse them, but the bombers can." The screen was suddenly alight as a Sigma battleship's broadside evaporated gun after gun, and Brother Daniel's heart fell into his stomach.
"We'll win this." he said. "We'll win this, but at a terrible cost. Every gun we destroy will kill a thousand people. The association designed their whole colony that way. They want nothing left for us to liberate." Another broadside from the Sigmas laid waste to the colony's defenses. "We're killing our own. And there's nothing we can do about it."
Suddenly, Mike's image came up on the comscreen. "Brother Daniel, we need you to raise more SynthMat fighters from Avenger's Redoubt. Your Talias are carrying the fight in Gamma Sector, and Brother Azrael's forces won't arrive in Beta for another few hours. Xanaphian bombers are taking a beating there." He paused. Brother Daniel met his stare with a grave seriousness. "What's the matter, Speaker?" Inquired Mike.
"I won't pretend I know how this battle will turn out, Sir. But I suggest that you pray for the souls of the people in that colony. Unitos is working in mysterious ways. " Brother Daniel ended the communication.

The Ruined Cathedral Sits Alone and Unused by the Association Conquerers

The Sionian guards barricaded the great silver doors of the Priorate Cathedral with whatever they could find. Through the stained-glass windows, the lights and sounds of devastation reminded the holdouts of the massacre that was taking place outside. The unrelenting association bombardment had been wreaking havoc on the Sionian capital city for hours. Like a swarm of locusts, the spacecraft of the association demons had dropped out of the void onto the unexpecting Unitalia system.
"lieutenant! called the Sionian captain in an urgent voice.
'Yes, captain?"
"Get me a status report!" The lieutenant's comlink crackled for a few moments, as an association fighter strafed the cathedral. The shard batteries assembled on top of the building's high towers spat volleys of plasma at the dark figure, outlined against the fires of what once was the hospital district. The fighter's fuel tank ruptured under a well-placed shard, and for a moment the ruins of Abrigo were illuminated by the ripping explosion. The troops inside the cathedral cheered, and the captain exhaled, his spirits rekindled for a moment. Maybe there was a chance after all.
"Captain!" Said the lieutenant, "The templars are rallying under Lord Michael and Cardinal Aqeel. They're making a stand over Eridani."
"What of Trithia? Redemption?"
"We weren't ready, sir." The lieutenant said gravely. "Their defense wings were overwhelmed... just a few old lightbringers... Trithia fell an hour ago, and I’m getting nothing on any Unitology channel near Redemption."
"But what about Abrigo? We can't be alone already!"
"Captain, everything we had is gone. By Unitos, we never stood a chance. Our spheres, our battleships, everything. "
The Captain's face fell. There was no hope in sight. If the Templar's defense legion had been defeated at the hands of the Association demons...
Another explosion rocked the cathedral. Synthmetal groaned and the shard batteries recommenced firing. A sentinel cried from a window, "Captain! Association troop column advancing this way!"
The younger soldiers knelt and fervently crossed themselves.
"Unitos help us" The captain said, gravely. He had fought the Hedonists at Eindhoven, the Coercive at Neo Patria Nobis, and the forces of the demons themselves around Profyadia. But never had he seen anything of this scale.
The shard batteries suddenly whirled into action. In response, a hail of minigun fire shattered the beautiful rose window above the great silver doors. The captain looked up and saw an entire Association fighter wing, in perfect line formation, descending on the cathedral. The shard batteries, firing desperately at the invaders, downed several fighters, but the holes they left were immediately filled by the implacable swarm.
The captain then drew his silver vibroblade, the veteran of many conflicts. If he was to meet his end here, it would be glorious before the eyes of the Almighty. "Soldiers of Unitos!" He commanded, "Our last stand is here!"
Rockets from the Association troops shook the building.
"For the Templars!" Roared the captain. "For your homes and families! For Sionia, my brothers! For UNITOS!" The soldiers cheered as the barricade was cleared away. Shard clips were locked into place and vibroswords hummed into action.
To the association generals watching from the observation deck, the cathedral was a dazzling sight for a few moments as the white light from Sionian shard rifles illuminated the apocalyptic landscape. The Sionian Temple guard burst through the great doors, closed the distance within moments and tore into the Association column.
The invaders cried out as Unitology blades ripped metal and bone, shards pierced armor and flesh, and the trancelike battle frenzy of the defenders extinguished one man after another.
This show of force startled the association commanders. "Concentrate all capital cannon fire on the cathedral! Half-mile radius! Do it!"
The lights on the observation deck dimmed for a moment as the vessel's cannons fired as one. The other invading ships fired their volleys into the fray so many miles below. The Sionian Cathedral and its guard were all destroyed in the earth-shaking strike, and the silence that followed allowed the last transmission of the young lieutenant to echo across all frequencies.
"Unitalia has fallen. Avenge us."

The anti-aircraft division drafted from the HFE Centre for the Mentally Challenged was punished when it was learned they spent the whole battle firing at the sun.

The massive 13 million ton Unitology fleet entered the Association system of Magnetic Fields with little resistance earlier this week. Satellites and probes bounced off the destroyers like blood on ice.

Panic radiated throughout the colonies as the woefully unprepared governors paced back and forth in their state rooms, thinking of excuses to report to the Emperors of their respective empires, analyzing the best way to run to their escape pods without being seen by lowly civilians. Manufacturing plants so recently dedicated to producing televisions and sex slave robots were turned into mass production facilities, pumping out cheap fighters, bombers, and sex slave robots. Training planes and gliders, flying craft that barely deserve the designation, were fitted with crude projectile weapons and weak lasers, and were sent scrambling to meet the invaders.

What they saw was a fleet comprised of 5000 Transport/Destroyer hybrids. The fleet classification was "Cargo Transport," but the only thing they were carrying was a trip straight back into the atmosphere for piles of debris that were formerly the makeshift resistance. Their cannons too large to assault the colonies directly, precise battery fire took out civil defense formations lining the outskirts of Muffdiver's colony. The white flag rose, and Quintana's fleets docked at the colony for some long needed R&R.

Communications lines buzzed with talk, trying to find some way to stop the massive fleet, urging governors to sacrifice their malls for a few more guided missile launchers. Amid the frantic chaos, a new threat emerged from the newly conquered colony: a fleet of 5000 bombers and fighters. The destroyers descended onto the colony to check for any signs of serious hostile actions. When none were discovered, the bombers and fighters moved in and decimated the population. Soon it appeared all would fall before the seemingly invulnerable fleets. Even the bombers and fighters were intact besides the few shot down by pure luck.

Two Generals of the Happy Fun Empire was not about to let this sort of base be established in their back yard. They formed a cunning plan, and they each retreated back to their colonies to set up. One general built as many Anti Aircraft guns as he could supply ammunition for, the other went and transmitted a long range distress call back to the homeworld. A lone sphere fleet recently constructed for means of cleaning out pockets of Unitology invasions was dispatched to the system, 15 jumps away.

The battle over Emperor Tubesock’s colony began. The destroyers descended, and did not notice anything out of the ordinary. The bombers and fighters arrogantly flew towards the colony expecting another easy capture. They were met head on by an impossible amount of shrapnel. It ripped through their hulls, puncturing pressure seals and pilots alike. They turned to run, but the overconfident commanders of the destroyers ordered them to stay. They flew in a never-ending stream of metal chunks, the death rate only slowing because there were less ships to kill.

Meanwhile 2000 fighters rose from Emperor Crabrock’s colony to rendezvous with the sphere fleet that had just entered the system. Together, while the Unitology fleets were busy with their conquest, Crabrock’s fleets flew into the unguarded colony of 2 million people, and claimed it as his own. Quintana’s backup and reinforcement base now snatched out from under him, he had no option but to sack this colony. The bombers and heavy gunboats in Crabrock’s sphere fleet had other plans though, and they engaged the destroyer fleet, which was trapped by the wall of flak fire. The fighters tore after the fighters and bombers of the Unitology, now riddled with holes and easy to finish off. As the bombers and gunboats began to inflict losses on the destroyers, a reassuring sight came into view. 400 Light Battleships positioned themselves between the destroyers and the colony. No longer needing the restricting wall of flak, and no longer being under siege, the colony modified it’s AA guns into Guided missile launchers, and began to shoot down the destroyers.

Crabrock, in true Association style, got greedy and ordered 1000 troop transports to be built. He requested that the destroying of the destroyers be toned down until they could complete. He also pulled his fleets out of the battle, which left the colony unassisted, and the exit unguarded. 1100 destroyers made a beeline for the system exit in full retreat. Realizing the error, the sphere fleet, now only a fraction of its former firepower, rushed to the system exit to intercept the destroyers. The battleships, not meant for intersystem warfare, began chase, but had no hope of catching up. The sphere engaged, with 500 bombers and 400 gunboats vs. 1100 destroyers. The odds were 5:1. However, the tech advantage, as well as the destroyers already weakened armor made things an even match.

The battle was over in a few hours, and the battle that started off looking impossible to come out of, was saved by luck, precision timing, and stockpile of uranium.

Outpost Manager Joe "Thumbscrews" Benutti

Resources at the Commonwealth homeworld have become so scarce that prices have risen to unheard-of levels! It is now possible to spend billions of credits on routine purchases at the only stocked station in orbit. When questioned, the station operators denied any wrongdoing.

"Supply an' demand's da rule. It ain't our fault there ain't nothin' available anywhere else. We ain't bloodsuckers. Now buy something or get the f*#@ out."

No maneuver is too low for this apparent monopoly. Reports from other traders indicate that supplies at their stations vanish as quickly as they are put on the market and that groups of scruffy transport captains are refusing to move their ships from the loading docks of competing stations, effectively paralysing the resource trade.

Empires have had to resort to closing their stations to the public and making direct transport runs to colonies on the planet that are pleading for resources. Transport union representitives did not return messages but one anonymous mail-room clerk hinted that internal memos suggested inside dealings between the union and the station operator.

Rumours of threats of violence could not be confirmed before press time.

'..Taking fire...Mayday...May....' silence...

The 4 Lords of the CADFP council stood looking at each other. Before them on the screen was the plan, a plan that would see them victorious or scrambling to regroup and defend.

‘And so it begins’. Commodore Destroyer mutters, as they turn and return to their flagships for what could be the longest day of there lives.

Silently the massed fleets moved through the void, sensors straining to see if they had been detected. Gunners and pilots nervous at theirs posts waiting for the command to launch or fire.

The council of 4 Smokestack, Blah, Dalex and Commodore Destroyer looked out at each other from view screens upon each others flagships. A simple nod of agreement was all it took to launch thousands of fighters, and for bright lances of destructive energy to reach out and vaporise the unsuspecting fleet that lay ahead.

The fight was short and violent, ships exploding into the ether, men dying in their bunks unaware they where even under attack or why.

Silently the great fleet moved on sweeping aside the debris of the vanquished fleet.

And for the rest of that short day it continued fleet after fleet each as unaware as the last. Each was attacked and destroyed. As the day drew to a close, resistance intensified warnings had finally gotten out ships and then fleets started to be prepared, but the result was the same death and destruction.

As the second day began a huge hastily combined fleet launched a counter offensive. Thousands of vessels streaking towards this combined enemy all with the intent to protect these worlds of theirs and destroy these intruders. The hours rolled by, the fighting intensified, pilots deploying anti glare visors the lances of cannon fire where so bright. Signals of support and reinforcements caused the defenders to fight with greater fury. Yet it was all for naught, the technology and numbers where just too great.

A few short hours later the reinforcements of Lord Crabrock exited the ether ready to join the fray, but instead found an enemy fleet drawn up ready and waiting for him. The battle was short and swift the forces of Commodore Destroyer and Lord Dalex made simple work of Lord Crabrocks fleet taking only minimal losses in the process.

As the second day ended, what before had been a populace system with many fleets and defences was now a system learning to obey new masters. The few colonies still in the hands of the Association Lords mainly centred upon the Planet Moof, scrambled to prepare defences greater then that were already there. Signals of pleas for help, of requests of higher commands to send reinforcements reached out to distant worlds. Hoping pleading that help would come, and it would come in time.

Now all they could do was wait and see what the next day would bring.

How it all began a voyage into the unknown

Lord Dragonheart 43rd of that name stood looking out of his palace window. Behind him stood the courtiers who had brought him the news, nervously waiting for their Lords reaction. In his hand the decree of the galactic council, a decree their Lord had been awaiting 6 long months.

‘HA HA HA HA HA HA HA’ the sudden sound making them jump in fear, then realising their Lord… their Lord was ….was … laughing.

Great huge belly shattering laughs of joy. Turning Lord Dragonheart jumped down from the window dais and swept up his chancellor, spinning him round shouting for joy,

‘Am free, Am free, finely I’m free of the witch.’

‘Yes my Lord’, was all the aged chancellor could mumble as he was spun faster and faster by his exuberant Lord.

Calming slowly but with still a grin splitting his normally solemn features Lord Dragonheart put his chancellor down, turning to his minister for defence he said,

‘I want proclamations posted through out all my realm and through the area of space controlled by my fellow Lords of the Association that a great game has begun, a game to find a wife worthy of me,’

‘Have it sent forth that from my home a under armed escort a transport ship will be setting forth, on board will be some small dowry for a Lady fit to be my wife, to claim this prize and to seek my hand all the suitors have to do is find and board my transport and inform me of it’s contents, Then and only then will I know I have found my new bride.’

‘Now go and send in my consort, for I have much to celebrate.’

The councillors left the room bowing with each step, when they had left the Throne room and the doors where closed only then did they turn to each other, smiles upon all their faces,

‘I wonder?’ said the chancellor ‘If I could get one too hhmm.’
‘One what?’ said another who had not been privy to the contents of the decree
‘Why a divorce of course.’

more angry winners view their new car.

‘Welcome everyone for the annual Galactic Lottery Draw. The prize today is over 25 Trillion Credits, and here we go the numbers are……………’

‘That was the scene a several days ago, when the long expected lottery was drawn, many people sat by their holo sets waiting expectantly for the results that would make someone somewhere rich beyond their dreams, but instead it saw millions of winners, not one, people rushing out buying luxury villas, star yachts, the stellar stock exchange went sky rocketing as citizens bought in to companies they always wanted. All believing they had won the greatest prize of them all.

It was 2 days before it was realised that not one but millions had won. Millions of claims all legitimate, all demanding the money they thought they had won.

The Galactic Lottery Commission locked their doors and hid. That’s when the riots started angry mobs swarming over government buildings demanding money, banks where looted and destroyed, mines ceased to work as the workers went on the rampage with their huge machines, in the first hours hundreds died ,then the thousands and then the millions, and nothing could stop it. Even the military was powerless as over half of its number joined the riots, demanding the money either for them selves or loved ones.

Even now days later the dying continues not just from the violence but now from galaxy wide famine as food stocks dwindle and people starve.

People now pray and hope it will end and the dying will stop……’

Now to explore

‘We are reporting today from the Sanctuary Damned souls dock yards. The scene over the years of many prestige’s launches.’
‘Today starts the start of a new era, with the launch of the USS Nimitz, A Nimitz class fast carrier the first of a new line of hi tech designs coming out of the military graduate school of Heson IV.’

‘In the back ground we can see a space dock yard, many hulls lying in various states on completion but front of the camera a huge construct of shinning Dexleon the new super metal, recently found at a top secret research lab hidden somewhere in Damned souls space.’

‘Look look the captain has just entered the hatch and they are sealing preparing for launch, this is quiet a spectacular e, I must say as in the space around lies the remains of the original fleet which is now been retired to make way for this new generation of warship, hopefully new and greater things will be added to our glorious history.

‘Many of the new improvements have come after the arrival of the Vogon in Association space causing concern to many empires around, And causing our Lord Dragonheart 31st of that name to move from pure research and exploration to a more military footing bringing up to date the ancient ships of the line which until now have gloriously defended our Homes and colonies amongst the stars.’

From tannoys placed around the viewing platform can be heard the USS Nimitz captain making final preparations for departure.

‘Release docking clamps for and aft keep on station holding thrusters…… bring reactor power to 100% and prepare to engage he sub-light drives.’

Advance the RIF to 100% and take her out Number one,’ ‘Aye Sir’ comes a distant reply away from the monitors on board.

From outside the great ship starts to move majestically forward slowly gathering speed. Soon she has cleared the docking bay that has been her home for the last 2 years where she was built from keel up,

As she clears the out marker her engines flare into brilliance and accelerate the ship faster and faster quickly moving her out of sight of the onlookers in the observation lounge.

Quietly in the back of the room, a shadow moved, quietly slipping out of the room and down the corridor beyond. ‘She has launched comrade the charges you placed did not work!!’ Silence replied from the comms unit the man held, further along the corridor 2 men waited watching., the time had come ………………

Voice Communication Log – Recorded on 2-1-2350.

Begin Recording//

[GARBLED]uck! What the fuck is happening? [SOUND OF EXPLOSION] Jesus we just got broadsided. Who the fuck are they? [MALE VOICE] Ships are unidentified; we don’t know where they came from. [MALE VOICE, AGITATED] Well find the fuck out! And get us the fuck out of here! We are unarmed and carrying civilians! [MALE, FEMALE VOICE] Yes captain! [SOUND OF REPEATED EXPLOSIONS] [MALE VOICE] Captain! Our armor is almost gone! Any more and we’re finished! Captain! Shi…[SOUND OF EXPLOSION] [SILENCE]

//Recording End.

A haystack of regression bears down on that needle of progress

The four Crimson Moon Spheres vibrated as their anti-matter drives kicked in. Things that should have been secured crashed to the floor, a future nuisance for their neglectful owners. The shaking stopped, and the intercom crackled. “Jump initiated, resume standard procedures.” The air stirred with a reassuring buzz as workers went back to repairing ships, readying ammunition, and pumping fuel. In a few short days their sphere would be landing in the Association home system. The other three spheres were headed towards the other factions, loaded with the tools that would decimate the humans’ entire civilization. The nanites they had harvested from an abandoned forgotten world had been modified to respond to the CMA’s desires. Once they had been a powerful force in the galaxy, almost wiping the human’s from the face of the universe before the powerful but foolish Unitos stepped in and ruined everything.

This time Unitalia would be hit as well, their civilization no longer safe through a wormhole. The nanites had been grown and combined with the Crimson Moon technology, making it more powerful than anything the Humans could fathom. Only time stands between fate and it’s heirs. The bombs would launch first, enhanced with rare metals known only to the CMA, then the bomber and fighter drones would canvas the home systems destroying all life.

A shockwave shot through the sphere as it suddenly fell out of hyperspace. The crews were thrown to the floor, equipment, both neglected and secured plunged to the ground, shattering, exploding, causing mayhem and chaos. The sphere’s reactor was charged with a foreign energy. It built up until the primitive technology could no longer harness it. Across the galaxy four simultaneous explosions pierced the budding galaxy’s quiet still air. The creation of a new universe had inexplicably happened in a new dimension. Trillions of years passed by in an instant on the other plain of existence. The untested and theoretical nature of hyperspace merged the two universes around the spheres, sucking them in to the foreign lands. The home planet of each faction, harnessing the most energy of any other worlds, were drawn to the new universe. A force stronger than any known force, it pulled the planets into unknown systems, scattering them among the galaxies.

The nanites drifted away from the spheres, calmly and with purpose gathering together as they sped through space at unimaginable speeds. Slowly they organized, manipulated what little technology could be recovered from the wreckage of the spheres, and inhabited the decaying flesh of the Crimson Moon travelers. With no world to call home, they drifted throughout the stars. They stopped at planets to gather resources, to consume living tissue, and rebuild their ranks. A symbiotic mix of both machine and living tissue, the old Dominion had taken on a new role in the galaxy. Big blobs of life and circuits, undistinguishable forms commanded new armies, reproducing asexually and rapidly, until they had regained total control over their surroundings. Communications between the four separate clans resumed, technology shared and strategies conversed. They took on similar appearances, had similar goals.

The Vogons they called themselves, after a long dead mysterious race of similarly disgusting blobs read to children in bedtime myths. They intended to bring the fairytale nightmares to life, and strike fear into the heart of even the most surly warriors. They began to make their move towards chemical signals their scanners had picked up. Emissions from space craft. Human space craft. Commonly traveled space lanes. Their fleets, unknown in number, spread out and began to descend on the unknowing humans.

To some, an assortment of junk in a basement. To others, the future.

Scientific research has fallen into a steady state of decay. No one empire could be blamed for the stagnation in the scientific community, but you could see it everywhere: fatcat politicians wiring money to remote research facilities with little more than a budget and the team’s vague instructions. To the people at Wu Jen, Halifax, it was not uncommon to receive orders like “okay here’s a million credits, get a bunch of agriculture specialists together with some of those crazy weapons guys and see what ya come up with, a’ight?”

Well the scientists of Wu Jen had had enough. By nightfall, they secretly toiled in unused labs, experimenting with equipment, preparing to show the world that the scientific method wasn’t dead, just laying dormant until the Next Big Thing (tm). Andrews, a well-respected drives specialist, wasn’t required on the current project. Under cover of night he stole thousands of credits worth of instruments, computers, donuts and coffee, and got together with his friends in his basement.

What happened there was short only of pure magic. With newfound direction, something science had lacked for decades, Andrews led the men to new heights of scientific study. For years the men’s free time was consumed by the project that would, or so they believed, propel the universe’s starships across amazing distances at blinding speeds. But something was missing from the equation. The amount of energy required to power such a beast was more than a googolplex joules, but it was too late to turn back or quit, they had to finish this blueprint.

Under cover of night, Andrews and his team of desperate men had slipped into the Anbaric Energy Facility, where prototypes of experimental reactor systems were stored, including a small-scale prototype sphere hull, complete with a functioning AMD. While ill maintained, the drive’s antimatter was perfectly safe; anti-magnetic-field technology invented nearly a century ago guaranteed it. And just as revolutionary as the first drives powered by this substance had been, so would be Andrew’s drive, if they simply stole the antimatter.

Fortunately, the security guard was preoccupied glancing at the latest of the lab’s creations, a screen door destroyer hull, which will be both stylish and functional. Andrews returned to his home with the last piece of the puzzle.

More time passed, and the scientists had to be extra careful not to blow Andrew’s home sky high. Antimatter was the most reactive of all known substances, but their particular application multiplied the danger tenfold. But risk of instant vaporization wouldn’t stop the men, though the actual vaporization might.

But, lucky as they were, the house never exploded, and the experimental prototype was readied, the blueprints completed, and the ideas sound.

The prototype vessel was a scale model HSSH hull, built from various alloys the men borrowed from the lab, and various other things found in a common 23rd century home.

To the colony’s perimeter scans, it appeared only momentarily, and the human eyes of Andrews and his crew were too slow to even see it, but the prototype hurtled skyward at speeds greater than 3,500km/s and traveled over 20Mkm, when the unthinkable happened: the prototype exploded in a horrible fireball, the explosion from which was over 100 kilometers in diameter, instantly annihilating the vessel and one of Muffdiver’s probes, luckily he never noticed.

A sick feeling swelled in the men’s stomachs. This should not have happened, the test vessel should have been able to pull 100Mkm before the hull plating collapsed, and even that wouldn’t have caused such a tremendous explosion. If their calculations had been wrong, years of their lives could have been potentially wasted on what was little more than a short range antimatter missle. While cool, it wasn’t what the men had dreamt about, nor were the men looking to promote war, which had torn Mankind asunder dozens of times before.

The other men went home, but Andrews went home and studied the telemetry the craft had transmitted during it’s near-100-minute voyage through the stars above. The results were devastating to the team. While the vessel’s velocity was only a hundredth the speed of light, it experienced something known as the Yeti effect, discovered by the late Mr. Yeti when an unmanned sphere hull was flown into a black hole to see if they could break the intergalactic speed record of 5,600Mkm/s. While they did break the record, they also noticed a very peculiar phenomenon: about one in one trillion particles of matter colliding with the vessel at that speed were able to penetrate both the shields, armor and hull of a vessel by slipping through subatomic spaces and breaks in the magnetic fields, imperfections in otherwise perfect defenses. In the prototype vessel’s case, the particle had entered the antimatter storage container and set off a chain reaction that ignited all the fuel at once.

Now struck with almost failure, Andrews called the other men to discuss. But the Yeti effect was seemingly uncounterable, and try as they might, the discussion led nowhere. After an emotional and gut-wrenching conversation on ethics, scientific integrity, and w they were going to explain the missing antimatter, the decision was made: the drive’s blueprints would be destroyed. It was simply too dangerous to allow a vessel to use this for propulsion. Should an explosion occur near a colony, or even worse, onboard a manned vessel, the consequences could be disastrous. Before deleting the blueprint, which had occupied his every thought and non-working moment, Andrews left to have a drink. Or ten.

Meanwhile, many probes, colonies and fleets had observed the effect, including several spy vessels from other factions. Scientists were awoken in the middle of the night to analyze the mysterious explosion, and the spies on duty got to work analyzing the data their sensitive equipment had picked up. After hours of pouring over logs, photographs snapped in a split second during the event, and perimeter scans, it seemed as if the mysterious fireball was just too fast for any of the recipient’s scanners to detect. But the fragments of data left a single bit of consistent bit of information with them: the craft’s vector; and with this, the launch site. Association warships, Unitology probes, Alliance satellites, and various other spacecraft catapulted at top speed toward Wu Jen, a glimmer against the sands of the unnamed wasteland.

Andrews sat back down at his desk, rubbing his forehead, trying to erase the memories from his mind before he could erase them from his hard drive. He took the mouse slowly, and selected the project, along with hundreds of daily backups made over the years, and with a final swig of vodka went to hit the delete key. But as his finger traveled the tiny distance to the keyboard, the files disappeared off the screen. He sat, frozen, staring at the screen not believing what just happened. He glanced over to his networking equipment, and saw the activity lights die out as the last morsel of data was cleaned from the project. A hacker, somebody able to bypass the system’s every defense effortlessly, had stolen it; there was no other explanation.

Several moments passed before he stood up, almost paralyzed in fear. He went to the bathroom to retrieve his sleeping pills, and in a thoughtless swing tossed the bottle’s entire contents into his mouth and swallowed them dry, ignoring to the discomfort in his throat. He couldn’t live with the guilt that his project would likely kill thousands of citizens of the Association if utilized by the unknown hacker, and fortunately, he didn’t have to. As silently as the unknown vessel slipping away into the night’s sky, Andrew’s life departed his body, which fell into a motionless heap on the floor.

Look! Pretty colooowAAAAAAHHH!

One year ago, it seems so long yet so near and yet in that space of time, more has happened then in the past 5 years combined.

The number of battle related deaths has grown by an exponential amount since the wormhole was created one year ago. Protests for peace have been documented around the Universe in every faction, on every “home” world, in every inhabited galaxy.

Since the wormhole has opened up, the Association has fought tooth and nail to control the system that the wormhole dumps out in. The Associations attempt to control the wormhole has forced tentative cease fire agreements between the remaining factions. These agreements have not been made public and this reporter is not even sure that they exist but looking through past battles it is clear that there is something driving certain people to selflessly lay their own lives on the line to help others take out Association fleets.

Is this a coordinated strike by the other factions, or is it merely coincidence that fleets from many factions are attacking the dwindling number of Association fleets?

Also since the opening of the wormhole the FYAD empire has claimed, the system Profyadia clearly named for the FYAD empire. This claim has clearly split Association fleets and even pitted Association member against Association member. The FYAD empire did agree that select leaders will be given “green cards” to land in Profyadia, but at this time it is unknown if anyone has actually been granted a green card by the FYAD empire.

The price of every basic good has drastically risen over the past year. Is this due to the massive influx of ship building? Could there be something else going on in the Galaxy, such as a shortage of resources due to the not so recent destruction of the IGTA? Could the resources that we all need have finally dried up? Or could it even possibly be due to greedy individuals trying to take advantage of the situation to further their own wealth? The question as to why the prices have risen is still a mystery, but is probably a combination of the three previously mentioned reasons.

The wormhole has opened up a place in the Universe that has given an advantage to both the Alliance and Commonwealth, allowing both Factions to establish colonies inside of the Galaxy #26, which is now known to be home to the Unitology. Within Galaxy #26 is an easy jump to Galaxy #25 which is known to be home to the massive Association. Unfortunately these two Galaxies are separated from the two neighboring Galaxies by a distance so great that almost no ships can travel the distance.

Will this unfortunate placement of the Wormhole force a peace agreement between the Association and the Unitology? Or could it possibly cause an even greater rift between the two factions that are so unfortunately close together?

After one year of the wormhole being created, the principle creators of the technology to create the wormhole, had varying opinions about the wormhole. When asked “Do you think it was wise to open up the wormhole with the amount of death and destruction it has caused? “ these were the answers this reporter received:

Brother Azrael was unavailable for comment.

Catma quipped, “The wormhole was a great achievement for science and is now being used for militaristic purposes. This was not our plan for the wormhole, this was not our dream. Perhaps soon we will be able to use the wormhole for it's intended purpose. The expansion of civilization into the far corners of space.”

Norakari had this to say about the wormhole, “The opening of the wormhole has caused a massive loss of life, yet it has also formed stronger ties between many existing empires.”

Sampson replied, “Yes and No. The discovery of the wormhole jump technology was a good thing but the aggressiveness of the Association War Machine was a little unexpected. We have tried to pool our resources and protect at least the Warsaw Wormhole Entrance for all factions. “

Smokestack replied, “Wormholes don't kill people, people kill people. Once the technology is available there is no choice, it must be used. Although the wormhole exit is currently a very dangerous place, I have hope that in the future the empires of this universe will learn to coexist peacefully and the dreams of the scientists who made this possible will be realized. “

Vladdic believes, “It was an awesome idea. I agree with it because it forces factions to start interacting with each other on a large scale, alliances will be made and knowledge will be shared. “

“So, exactly how has the wormhole helped society?” one might ask. Unfortunately there is no good answer to that question dear reader, in fact this reporter cannot think of an answer at all. The only thing to have come out of the creation of the wormhole has been death, destruction, and greed. Perhaps, Hyper jump technology was a mistake altogether, unfortunately now we will never know.

Inside the Meeting Room during Dinner

Today we are coming to you live from a space station hovering above an undisclosed planet somewhere in the Universe. Some of the biggest, and brightest minds in the Universe have gathered to discuss how to make Hyper jump technology a reality, putting aside all political differences for the time being..

Norakari Toshiro of Toshiro Technical Engineering opened this meeting of scientific minds by presenting his recent discoveries in the field of Hyper mathematics which he believes will ultimately lead to Hyper jump technology. Unfortunately, Norakari noted, it is not feasible economically to make this technology affordable to everyone at this time. Norakari then presented video's of Toshiro Technical Engineering's past attempts at making Hyper jump technology work, many of them ended in horrific, but pretty cool, looking explosions. Norakari did not mention anything about the size or design of his ships, but one can only assume that they were at least twice the size of a space station.

Vladdic of Dinobots was the next to address the council. Vladdic spoke of his personal advances in the field of Quantum Mechanics believing that this was the best way to create Hyper jump technology Vladdic too conceded that Hyper jump technology was only a dream at this point though, because the price of just the hull of the ships he had designed ranged in the hundreds of millions of dollars and that was not including the massive amounts of resources it would take to build the hull. The engine Vladdic reported would cost almost an equal amount and would weigh more then a small moon. Video's of the Dinobots early attempts at successfully Hyper jumping all ended in horrific crashes much like those of Toshiro Technical Engineerings.

Sampson of the Coercive presented his findings in the field of Hyper-Quantum Mathematics arguing that this was the only way to succeed in Hyper jump technology. Sampson regretfully told the council that he had been unable to run any tests with his technology as he had been unable to find a pilot willing to risk his life and could not find any prisoners with the piloting capabilities to force into the test.

Finally a tribunal, consisting of Catma, Smokestack and Brother Azrael, from the Unitology addressed the council. The tribunal revealed that they had developed a new branch of physics calling it, Gravity Neutralization. Gravity Neutralization was proved by using a combination of Hyper Mathematics, Quantum Mechanics and Hyper-Quantum Mathematics. This new method the tribunal said had only been discovered hours before they had arrived at the space station and they themselves didn't fully understand it but knew their scientists did. The theory behind Gravity Neutralization is very complex relying heavily on the theories of generating small amounts of finite fields of improbability to work. Unfortunately this reporter can not explain it any better then that.

“Then lets get to work everybody!” screamed Norakari.
“Get to work on what?” the council questioned in unison.
“On this Gravity Neutralization stuff. It has to work, something inside of me, something I can't explain is telling me that I can't quite pinpoint. Let's do it guys!” Norakari exclaimed.

Long into the night the leaders and every scientist on board worked only stopping to order Chinese food and scarf down the egg rolls, wanton soup that were delivered.

Earlier this morning Sampson speaking for the entire council had this to say “Ladies Gentlemen and Everyone in between we have done it! The scientific council on Hyper jump technology has made a successful Hyper jump. At 05:26 on 8-8-2346 the council sent an unmanned ship through a wormhole and it successfully made it to the other side. At 11:25 a manned ship was sent through the same wormhole and successfully made a Hyper jump. The only draw back to this entire process is that the trip is only one way, that we cannot reverse. With the technology we have created, there is now a wormhole in every system that the factions consider their 'home system.'”

So now we have it people, the ability to travel a vast distance within the Universe but the size of the Universe is so mind bogglingly big that this jump is just peanuts compared to the size of the Universe.

ENTER PICTURE CAPTION

This is survey 7 to control
‘Go ahead survey 7’
‘We found some more, there appears to be the remains of several fighter class and corvette class vessels.’ ‘ We are approaching for a closer look.’
Moving forward the survey vessel designated as Survey 7, advanced into the debris field, ‘scans indicate this was a short but furious fire fight, it appears a small flotilla of vessels was ambushed by a numerically superior force and annihilated.’
‘Continue your recon Survey 7 the Fleet Commander wants some bits to look at.’

The commander of Survey 7 looked across at his exo, they both knew what this really meant: the fleet commander would be parading the remains outside the fleet head quarters touting that his vaunted fleet had again vanquished invaders from another system, where as in reality all they where doing was scavenging the wreckage of other peoples battles, and running at the first sign of trouble.

‘Sir,’ the sensor operator called out.’
‘Yes what is it,’ the ships commander replied.
‘Sir according to the readings all the ships out there came from the same place - they all have the same metallurgy content, this wasn’t a fight sir it was a live ammo exercise.’
Looking stunned the exo looked across at the commander.
‘Commander if this wasn’t a true fire fight then they could still be in the area.’
‘Helm get us out of here full thrust!’

Barely had Survey 7 started to move when the entire ship tilted, RIF generators whining trying to compensate as the howl of escaping atmosphere deafened everyone on the bridge.

The ships commander barely kept his footing as his exo flew past a gaping wound in his side where the command chair had gashed him.

Trying to make order from what he saw the Commander attempted to regain control of his crew and his ship, but to late the furious broad side struck again, atomising the entire bridge and the last chance any had of seeing home again.

Slowly the dark shape moved out from amongst the debris field, scanners and tractors sifting the wreckage, before the dark vessel moving once again into hiding to a wait it’s next unwitting victim

Yours truly, Leviathan

Live from Sanctuary, Atamagaii – Thousands gather at Sanctuary University, on the lush greens just east of Nosre Hall, where leaders from various Association empires deliver rousing speeches regarding the thousands killed in the assault earlier today.

4-14-2346 was an ordinary day for the members of the Association, except at approximately 9:00pm Falcoss gave the order to assault the colony of a suspected criminal, known only as Leviathan. A reported 15,000 ships rained down upon Leviathan’s colony, but moments before the bombardment could commence, several hundred anti-aircraft emplacements, hidden to satellite images by camouflage, sprung to life and immediately filled the air with a hailstorm of surface-to-air missiles, lasers, and gatling gun fire.

A call for support from the Damned Souls assault force rung out across all frequencies, but was received by no one in time. With terrifying e