[b][u]Norma Arm
Nassir IV, Nassir System
Refuge, Capital of the Autonomous Nassiri Republic[/u][/b]

It was only midday when the crowd began to gather about the large holoscreen installed in the main square – an uncommonly early hour, seeing as those of the city’s inhabitants who usually found themselves in the environs at that time were mostly hurrying about their business, and only a few of the Republic’s more idle subjects loitered there in the hope of seeing something more interesting than the weather forecast. This time, however, it was not mere idlers who were assembling to worriedly gaze at the shimmering surface; the best part of the city’s population was converging beneath the projector installations, whispers coursing through the throng as rivulets of a subterranean stream through a thick patch of moss. Across the entire planet, much the same was happening in every settlement wherein a public monitor was present. Some few remained shuttered in their homes, gazes locked upon their private devices, or – and these were the most apprehensive and pessimistic – formed small groups about portable radio-receivers in the environs of the nearest spaceport. But the vast majority of the Nassirians, men, women and children, congregated at the heart of their towns or cities, perhaps seeking reassurance in company, or merely driven by human communal tendencies not to face new and portentous events alone.

And, indeed, it was something novel and not immediately expected that had caused such an unusual situation to unfold. For the first time in decades, the forlorn and peaceful Nassir System had, to all evidence, been located by outsiders. Hours before, scanners placed on its rim had signalled the approach of several heat signatures, far too even to be produced by anything but ships, and soon afterwards detected a number of bodies headed unerringly towards Nassir at sub-light speed. The general surprise at someone having approached such an unsightly location had soon been contaminated with apprehension by some rather perplexing circumstances. Foremost among those was the fact that the sensors had ceased all activity before a clear image of the visitors could be obtained; the abrupt and thorough interruption of transmissions all too easily lent itself to support the idea of hostile action. Furthermore, there was something odd about the heat sources themselves. In the few seconds during which the sensors had recorded their activity, their output had been staggering – dozens, if not hundreds of times higher than what it was estimated the planet-spanning Republic’s entire fleet would produce if every single one of its vessels had been in motion simultaneously; and this despite their quantity being, in all likelihood, no higher than twenty. No commentary on these matters had been divulged by the government; yet it had been announced that the Planetary Defence Fleet had been mobilised and would stand ready to intervene in the case of “complications”.

Presently, the screen flickered to life, and a murmur spread through the crowd as a simplified map of a section of the system materialised on it. There, to the left, was their world; and near it were hovering the luminous dots representing their fleet – a full hundred and fifty craft, as battle-ready as a force which had not seen combat for many years could be. The murmur intensified when there appeared from the right end another cluster of pulsing dots – the outsider ships had arrived within range of the planet’s own orbital detection systems. It was now apparent that they were fourteen in all; they moved slowly – almost ponderously, it seemed – yet steadily towards the planet, neither stopping nor altering their course when the Defence Fleet began slightly, yet perceivably shifting to better cover it if it should become necessary. Presently, the screen dimmed for a moment, preparing to display a physical view of the approaching ships, transmitted directly from the scouts above, and when it grew clear once again, a gasp arose from the throng, followed by some sparse muttered exclamations and prayers. The ships were clearly immense, larger than any moving body anyone present had ever seen; yet it was not this that struck a vague, instinctive fear into the assembled public. No, it was the nature of what it saw that was most strangely terrible – these were not the bright, metallic forms one would immediately associate with the word “spaceship”, but ghastly amalgams of twisted armatures, angularly jutting out in places like the ribs of a starving behemoth, and a pulsing, writhing, timorously bloated fleshly substance clinging hideously to the steel bones beneath. Whatever their intent, these things from the outer darkness of space could not possibly have been birthed by a wholesome human mind; they were something indisputably alien, something [i]other[/i].

After some moments of stunned silence, shared, it seemed, by the people and the fleet alike, the seldom-heard yet unmistakable voice of Admiral Markus Redin, commander of the Defence Fleet, rang out over the square. Such were the Republic’s customs of popular involvement that the half-greeting, half-intimation broadcast to the approaching ships, as well as their response, was to be heard by anyone who wished, and, by then, there was no shortage of expectant ears on the planet.

“Hail, visitors. Speaking in the name of the people and government of the Autonomous Nassiri Republic, whose territory you have now entered, I bid you welcome to the system of Nassir and respectfully ask that you identify yourselves.”

Throughout every city, in houses and on squares, under holoscreens, in front of domestic projectors and around radios, people huddled, waiting for the answer of the beings in the mysterious, sinister ships. One minute passed, then two, then five, then ten. Nothing but silence came in reply to the Admiral’s question, and still the alien vessels advanced, unswerving and, it now began to seem, ominous.

Redin spoke again: “I repeat: you are in the territory of the Autonomous Nassiri Republic. Pray identify yourselves.”

For several more minutes, there was no reply. Then, at last, a voice rang out from speakers worldwide. It was toneless, metallic and distinctly mechanical; and it said:

[b]”Complete elimination will be achieved.”[/b]

Now it was the Nassirians who remained quiet, dumbfounded by such a bizarre message – and yet one of which they secretly dreaded they understood the meaning all too well. Finally, the Admiral regained sufficient presence to speak, and began, clearly straining to suppress the tremor in his voice:

“Excuse me, what exactly is-“

He was interrupted by the voice, which repeated, with the same absence of inflection,

[b]”Complete elimination will be achieved.”[/b]

On the screen, a flash of sickly green light flared up from the prow of one of the alien ships, and the picture flickered out. The screen remained dark for a few seconds, then the map reappeared. The fourteen pulsing dots were now still, and the Defence Fleet appeared to be manoeuvring opposed to them. Yet what most of those present could not know was that the defenders were not manoeuvring at all, but panickedly rushing back and forth in a desperate attempt to restore a semblance of order among their ranks. Nor could the crowd see the deflagrations of metal, flame and acid that were tearing the space around them to shreds, preventing them from flanking the assailants and forcing them into a cramped mockery of a formation, at the mercy of the scorching pale-green beams and the swarms of predatory pseudo-machines which streamed out without interruption from the aliens’ position. The dots began to rapidly flicker out, first one by one, then in clutches, and it was sooner than anyone could have believed that the last of them had vanished, the invaders resuming their advance.

It occasionally happens that, if one is facing a danger which does not appear immediate, fear will not blaze up until the dulled mind reaches the crucial realisation. Thus it was this time. A pall of stillness seemed to hang over the planet for a few moments before the screaming and scrambling erupted. People yelled, wept, loudly invoked whatever deities they placed their faith in, desperately clung to each other, scampered for the illusionary refuge of their homes. Many rushed to whatever vehicle they could find, cramming them well beyond what they were designed to allow and clinging to their roofs or sides, or simply ran, wherever they might have been, with only their destination in mind – [i]to the spaceports[/i]. Had even the latter been prepared for a rapid evacuation, their number was limited, as the Republic had never felt the need for a large fleet, and the bulk of the fleeing masses was still far from the nearest port when missiles began to rain from above the skies. Cities were engulfed by impenetrable toxic clouds, with blind, agonizing human wrecks flailing helplessly in the streets. Lakes of corrosive foulness spread to consume stone and flesh alike, and the ground shook with nuclear explosions of horrid potency, pulverizing anything unfortunate enough to find itself within their radius.

The bombardment was barely over when agile trilobite-like vessels swept down upon the surface of the ravaged world, firing swift bursts of lethal green flame upon the remains of the escaping columns before landing sparsely and unleashing hordes of malformed monstrosities, no two of them identical, from their odiously pulsing stomachs. A tide of bone, chitin and metal, dripping with infected ichor, spread through forest and countryside, ravenously pursuing the scent of warm blood. It seemed as though an army could have scarcely withstood the onslaught of these horrors; as for how a handful of terrified fugitives could have fared in the face of it, there could scarcely be any uncertainty. Within hours, only mangled tatters remained of what had once been a thriving population numbering in the billions. A few stray pockets of survivors remained yet, scattered about impervious places; but their fate was sealed.

[center]***[/center]

Beyond the orbit of the sixth planet from Nassir, some three dozen ships of wildly varying sizes and designs, but all bearing the Republic’s insigna, flew in as great a haste as their crews could manage towards the system’s rim. Someone had, after all, been fast enough in fleeing, or cautious enough to prepare for the contingency. Behind them, the gargantuan alien vessels were spread about the world they had left. Three of them hovered directly around it, smaller craft still descending from them into the atmosphere, whilst the others hung still. Either they had not noticed the escaping motley fleet, or they did not deem it worth the effort to pursue them. Perhaps whatever minds directed them knew they would have been too slow and unwieldy to reach their prey. Whatever the case, those on board what was left of the Autonomous Nassiri Republic’s navy seemed to have reason to believe themselves out of immediate danger.

The future, however, was anything but certain. The Republic had held no contact with other states for over a century; they did not know whither to go, or who would harbour them. All they had was a general idea of roughly what direction Earth should have been in, and a hope that there still was some form of civilization to be found there. For them, there was now little choice. Behind was a faceless, unreasoning and unstoppable enemy; before, somewhere many light-years away, were the Core Regions – and safety.