[u][b]Unaffiliated Space[/b][/u]
[u][b]Coalition Invasion Fleet[/b][/u]

Amid the dark, vacuous expanse of the south-eastern neutral region of the galaxy, faintly lit by the closest stars, the Invasion Fleet drifted at sub-warp speed, glimmering menacingly with a multitude of shifting lights arrayed in strange geometrical patterns. Its insatiable sensors were eagerly seeking in the surrounding void something worthwhile to latch upon - which, as many a conqueror boldly advancing into uncharted sectors had learned, was no simple task. Given the vastness of the zone wherein they were operating, few pulses struck anything close enough to return, and most of those which did had chanced upon nothing more than nondescript space debris. Altogether, the invasion was proving to be less wealthy in glorious battles and ferocious assaults upon enemy territories than most of its participants had hoped and more composed of interminable days of waiting, different from garrison duty only in the constant hope that they might, after all, stumble upon something.

Over the past few weeks the fleet had proceeded a good distance from established Yrrkheltharl borders, scattering sentry drones along its path to mark their expansion. It had encountered some star systems - all of them uninhabited and mostly uninhabitable as well. However, these factors did not thus far concern the conquerors exceedingly. Small groups of ships had detached themselves from the bulk of the fleet to keep watch over them until colonists would arrive. With some processing, several of the discovered planets could be rendered sufficiently fit to inhabit, whereas the others could doubtless be harvested for raw materials to fuel the Coalition's industry. After all, did the Invasion Forces' military codex not proclaim that every victory, however small, could yield enormous gain if properly exploited?

Now, however, the equivalent of days had passed without the least novelty befalling the victorious, yet idle armada, and, with even the previous events having given little to no respite from inactivity, the Coalition's eager forces had been reduced to impatiently repeating drill exercises, even as they did before launching. Preparatory processes had, in fact, just been finished when a drone craft detected an unusual signal and relayed it to one of the main vessels. The signal came again and again, at regular intervals, and soon the entire fleet was reverberating with the luminescence of locator devices. Not only had their explorer pulse returned to its emitter; along with it there came some other impulse, of distinctly different composition but just as regular. There could be little doubt that it was artificial. It did not seem to convey any encoded information, and, in fact, did not even appear designed for transmitting at such distances, if one were to judge from its clearly faded and distorted nature; however, it did denote a distinct direction to follow, and the fleet was not slow in following it. Turning almost as a single form, it rapidly flared its engines and sped toward the source of the unexpected pulsation.

[u][b]Unnamed Star System[/b][/u]

When it approached the zone where it estimated its target to be located, the fleet was already in battle formation. The largest, heaviest ships spearheaded its advance, ready to hurl themselves at enemy ranks in scattered, disjunctive order; lesser craft hovered at the flanks, brimming with lethal pods and assorted weaponry; drones hurried about the fringes, advancing and retreating in a series of feints; finally, at some distance behind the rear-guard, the massed transports edged forward cautiously, escorted by a handful of fighter detachments. Soon, it became apparent that such precautions might not have been superfluous. Sensors located a number of shapes, one of which rather large, drawing near from one of the system's central planets. Though at first indistinct, as the shapes drew closer they became identifiable as ships - and ships of an unpleasantly familiar make. What was now headed toward the invading force was no less than a patrol of Imperial vessels, led by a large cruiser. Truth be told, they did not appear to be an especially formidable foe - the ships were clearly weathered and aged, and most were civilian craft without any apparent armaments. However, Terrans being widely known to be, among other things, "deceitful", it was enough to induce the fleet to slow its progress, ready to redirect the power of its engines into a frontal rush.

Once they came within what was assumed to be firing distance of the intruders, the Terran ships stopped as well, and soon a demand to initiate transmission was issued by the cruiser. It was odd that they should have called for permission instead of transmitting directly, and it was not without some suspicion that Fleet Commander Sraslsirl activated his communication device. The sight which appeared upon the slightly distorted, gold-lit monitor made him clench his mandibles with hatred. There, before him, was a Terran. Not one in a CAC-approved historical documentary, or a visual manifesto. No, this loathsome creature stood there in the flabby flesh, absurdly covered by some sort of "uniform", as these largely useless implements were called, glaring at him in a manner which doubtless expressed rapacious malevolence. In truth, though Sraslsirl could not have known it, the "Terran" at the opposite end of the transmission was not a little taken aback by seeing a non-human visage materialise on the screen. This surprise brought with itself both relief and new apprehension: on the one hand, this could not have been the Imperium his ancestors had fled from; on the other, it was unclear what these creatures' intentions were, and the size of their fleet was not altogether reassuring. He inhaled deeply and began reciting the speech which had been prepared for such an occasion and, all of a sudden, seemed to him tremendously inappropriate.

The ambassador's concern was, however, altogether vain, for no sooner had the Coalition's translator systems been activated that it became obvious their database was obsolete - which was not altogether surprising, seeing as it had not been updated for over two centuries. Thus, as the programs struggled to recalibrate their parameters based on this new influx of information, the Fleet Commander was only reached by individual words - and uninteresting ones at that, words such as "peace", "agreement", "certain" and the likes, without counting conjunctions, prepositions and pronouns. Finally, the translator was brought into functioning condition; just in time, it seemed, to hear the Terran conclude "...and hopefully this encounter will mark the beginning of a long age of friendship and cooperation between our peoples. On behalf of all of Refuge's population, I welcome you to our home."

"Silence, Terran vermin. This is no home of yours." Sraslsirl chittered. The translator could not convey his scornful tones, but apparently his alien intonations were sufficiently distorted for the Terran to recoil slightly with an alarmed expression.

"Terrans? I am afraid there is a misunderstanding. We are humans, yes, but we are not-"

"Humans, Terrans, it is all the same. The matter stands that I command you to cease your blathering, and you resist me."

"But-" it was now clear even to the Fleet Commander that the human was stunned, "Why- I am sure we can reach an agre-"

"An agreement with the likes of you?" Sraslsirl spat out, "Eradication is all you are fit for. Fleet, prepare to engage."

"Why?" the Terran was nearly choking on his words, "Why do you- We haven't done anything! We don't even have anything you could want-"

"Even if this were true, your unauthorised presence on the worlds of our great Coalition is enough to justify your destruction. Right wing front, attack."

As the human envoy still gazed from the monitor, dumbfounded, and other, curt voices were beginning to rise from behind him, a number of deployer craft suddenly burst forth from the formation and swept toward the Terran ships. The latter shuddered spasmodically and fired a few uncoordinated blasts in their direction, but were far too slow, and their shots went wide. The deployers hurled several pods, as though they were missiles, at their largely immobile targets, then instantaneously retreated, avoiding retaliating fire, only to swoop upon the larger ships once again and deliver further boarding craft. The pods, making good use of their limited autonomous manoeuvring capabilities, latched in leech-like fashion onto their prey, and soon Sraslsirl heard with satisfaction the panicked screams conveyed by the transmission. The envoy, who throughout this time had remained transfixed, soundlessly opened and closed his mouth a few times; then there was a sizzling sound, and he collapsed out of sight. In his stead there appeared the mask-like head of a Coalition shock trooper. "The boarding operation has been successful, Fleet Commander" he reported, raising an arm in salute, "All Terrans except for necessary pilots have been eliminated. Casualties are negligible.  Awaiting further instructions." "Land the vessels" Sraslsirl ordered, "Transport group ahk-six, initiate planetary invasion procedures."

In an exemplary display of efficiency, the armoured transports descended upon the planet whence had come the Terran ships, followed by the latter with their new contents, and almost immediately observation cameras began recording what no one doubted would be a documentary immortal for Coalition history. Many a mechanical eye contributed to build a testament to the Planetary Invasion Forces' first thunderous success; images of drones, monsters, soldiers and walker tanks pouring from the curvilinear ships, pursuing crowds of fleeing humans, overwhelming their scattered, unprepared, demoralised troops, rampaging through their cities, leaving nothing but rubble, mangled corpses and toxic clouds in their wake were instantaneously processed and attached to the Fleet Commander's triumphant battle report, ready to be sent directly to the CAC. Exterminating the entire human - the word was more general than "Terran", it seemed, and more phonetically practical as well - population would require weeks, perhaps months; but the planet was theirs, and all further stages were now inevitable.

When, after a mere few days, the conflict proper was over, the fleet directed its sights toward the nearest edge of the system, its reactors already letting loose a few preparatory flares. This battle had been won, but there was no doubt many others expected them on their path of conquest. The troops' morale was soaring, and the Fleet Commander himself was ever so slightly impatient to put the might of the Coalition war machine to the test again - perhaps a somewhat more challenging one. Once again, the ships hummed in over-orbital space, then vanished, hurling itself at warp speed toward new encounters.