[b][u]The Joint Armed Forces Air Ground Combat Center Carth Star System Ghost Nebula 888 PY[/u][/b] Captain Jaffre’s keen eyes scanned over the gathered crowd of enlisted soldiers, officers, and politicians automatically cataloging threats. The nervous fidgeting of the junior officer in the front row, the too-still posture of the two plainclothes security agents flanking the senator—all filed away in a fraction of a second. Being a member of the Presidential Guard, as well as the head of the team assigned directly to the president, Jaffre had heard the president practice his speech so much that he could repeat it from memory. “It has been a long eighty-eight years” Jaffre wasn’t even aware that he was mindlessly mouthing the words a second before the president said them, “since the threat of the Swimmers first became known to us.” “Check that camera crew in the back” Jaffre almost whispered into his hidden mic. “On it” One of his subordinates immediately responded. Jaffre had argued against the president giving his speech at the combat center’s central plaza. It was open, exposed. The president had felt that hiding away in an auditorium as he gave this speech on the two hundredth anniversary of the first Swimmer attack would show the public that he was afraid. And the president had further argued that the Swimmers’ couldn’t attack Carth, the capital of the republic. Jaffre couldn’t argue against that, but the Swimmers weren’t the only threats to the president. “And I know that we have the strength and resilience to-” Jaffre was moving even before his mind registered the flash in the sky. “Get down Mr President!” He yelled as he tackled his charge. A second later the sound of a massive explosion, followed by a shockwave, drowned out the panicked screams and yells of the audience. Still on top of the president, holding him down, Jaffre looked up at the sky in time to see a destroyer begin to fall to the ground, secondary explosions rippling all across its length. Two fighter craft screamed into the airspace above the combat center. At first Jaffre assumed that they were going to secure the airzone above the president, but then the second fighter craft opened fire with its cannons, tearing the first apart. It was almost as if that was the signal for it all to begin. The sky above was suddenly flooded with weapons fire as three destroyers squared off against two destroyers and a cruiser, the latter group using their adaptive camouflage systems to paint their hulls with red stripes. [i]Red for Gwennou[/i], Jaffre thought instantly. [i]Or maybe just red for traitor.[/i] “What the hell is going on?!” The president demanded. A calm, authoritative voice that boomed across the plaza silenced every other sound. It wasn't over comms; it had hijacked the entire planetary broadcast system. “I am Colonel Gwennou. And I have a message to all who truly love our people.” “Who is this Colonel Gwennou?” Jaffre asked into his mic as he helped the president to his feet. Speaking to the president he said “We are leaving. Now.” “The decedent government has tried, and failed, to handle the Swimmer threat for a hundred years” Colonel Gwennou continued. “And yet all it has managed to do is lose planets to the Swimmers and bleed our forces. This cannot go on!” Jaffre’s squad of Presidential Guard formed up around the president as the group moved out of the plaza and towards a predesignated bunker at the combat center. They would wait in the bunker until the army could take care of this Gwennou. “We have given the corrupt politicians plenty of opportunities to handle the crisis and yet all they have done is thrown away more lives!” Gwennou continued. “They sit at the capital, in the lap of luxury knowing they are safe, as we lose ever more planets on the periphery. This cannot go on!” “Sir,” One of his subordinates said, his voice tight with suppressed panic. “Confirming local broadcast hijack. And I just got a flash report from Army HQ: Gwennou’s forces have taken control of the combat drone network. All of them.” “He’s what?!” Jaffre couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “The drone’s. He’s taken control of them. All of them from what I can gather.” Jaffre’s subordinate repeated. “He’s managed to take over the combat center’s control room as well.” “Impossible.” The president murmured. Jaffre tuned most of the broadcast out, focusing on getting the president moving. He could hear the familiar, demagogic tropes though—the corrupt politicians, the brave people on the periphery, etc. “...and yet all he has done is thrown away more lives!” The quote hit home. Jaffre knew the casualty reports from the last three periphery systems. His own brother had fallen in battle just a month ago. “He’s insane” the president murmured in shock. “How could some crackpot colonel get so much support?” “That’s not important right now” Jaffre said, “right now we need to get you to saf-” At that moment a squad of combat bioroids stepped into view ahead of the president and his guard. At first glance the bioroids almost looked like real twei, but they weren’t quite right. Their skin was a tad too shiny and had seams that gave away their artificial nature. Still Jaffre had heard that in a few years they would be almost impossible to distinguish from a natural biological with sight alone. The second it took to identify the bioroids was being artificial was enough that Jaffre knew he was dead. He had enough time to interpose himself between the president and the bioroids before they lifted their rifles and opened fire. Perhaps he could shield the president just long enough for some nearby soldiers to come to the president’s aid. Jaffre expected to feel the punch of a bullet tear through his body. But it was surprisingly painless. In fact… He heard the bullets punch into something metallic behind him and his guard. One of his subordinates who was watching the rear let out a surprised yelp. “Bots behind!” The subordinate yelled. Jaffre turned his head just in time to see two combat drones crumble to the ground. “What the hell…” Jaffre half whispered as he turned his attention back to the bioroids in front of him. “Are you unharmed Mr President?” The lead bioroid asked. The squad of bioroids surrounded the president and his presidential guard, their attention focused outwards. The bioroids were acting like they were going to guard the president, not hurt him. “I thought all the combat drones were under Gwennou’s control.” The president said. “They are.” The bioroid answered with a raised eyebrow. “But we aren’t drones. We are bioroids. And we are ever loyal to the Republic. Now let’s get you to safety.” “It doesn’t matter how many loyal soldiers we have if they control the air and orbital space.” The president stated. “That shouldn’t be a concern sir.” The bioroid countered. “And why not?” The president demanded. In answer the bioroid simply pointed up. The president looked up to see a destroyer descending into the airspace above the combat center from low orbit. But it was unlike the destroyers currently present. This one had a massive spinal cannon of some kind and it moved with an elegance the other warships lacked. “Is that the [i]Resuscitated Hope[/i]?” The president asked. “Yes sir.” The bioroid answered. Jaffre had heard of the [i]Resuscitated Hope[/i] before. It was the first so-called bioroid warship. It was named as such as it was intended to be the new hope in victory against the Swimmers. And now it was bringing hope to this battle. [b][u]Ghost Nebula Current Date[/u][/b] For millennia the Ghost Nebula had been isolated. A super weapon deployed by the Yrrani Imperium, the Astral Sword, had cut off the nebula from the rest of the galaxy. A wall that bent and broke the very fabric of space surrounded the Ghost Nebula. Nothing got in. Nothing got out. Many, both within the Nebula and out, believed that this state would never change. They were wrong. The Yrrani believed themselves to be the masters of all, including the Universe itself, and many others had allowed themselves to be misled. But the thing about the Universe was that it had no master. And it was a resilient thing. The Universe was beginning to fix the damage done by the Astral Sword. It had taken millennia, but was less than a fraction of the blink of an eye for the Universe. Ships traveling around the border of the Ghost Nebula started to disappear. At first it was just one or two. But the number increased with every week. Holes in the barrier between the Ghost Nebula and the rest of the galaxy had begun to form. Starships traveling at FTL speeds near these holes found themselves sucked in. Many of these starships were destroyed, but a lucky few found themselves on the opposite side of the barrier. [b][u]Qua Star System Ghost Nebula[/u][/b] “How long until we can fire the spinal cannon?” Captain Herve demanded as the heavy cruiser [i]Vambrace[/i] shuddered around him. The vibrations were so violent that had he not been strapped to his seat he would have been thrown to the floor. “Unsure.” The lieutenant in charge of [i]Vambrace[/i]’s weapons answered. “There’s something wrong with the power distribution system.” The officer in charge of the engineer watch stated. “Damage control is investigating it now.” Herve cursed under his breath as [i]Vambrace[/i] shook again. Guardian-class heavy cruisers were tough warships. They were the workhorses of the GNR navy. Yet Herve was on the verge of losing his ship. [i]Vambrace[/i]’s secondary batteries and strikecraft would do significant damage to the Swimmers attacking the ship, but without its primary weapon the heavy cruiser was doomed. “Recall the fighters and prepare for an emergency jump!” [b][u]Somewhere in Augustan space[/u][/b] Captain Herve had not intended to take [i]Vambrace[/i] to Augustan space. In fact he hadn’t even known the Augustan Empire even existed, yet alone that there was now a way to get out of the Ghost Nebula. Unfortunately [i]Vambrace[/i] hadn’t arrived alone. The Augustan inhabitants of the star system would see the sudden appearance of a heavy cruiser of unknown build and origins. And before anyone could think to try to communicate with this unknown warship, its secondary particle beam cannons opened fire in every direction. The Augustans couldn’t be faulted for thinking the inhabitants of the warship were insane. There appeared to be nothing around the warship for it to fire at. And when it deployed a squadron of strikecraft that also engaged in battle with an imaginary foe, the Augustans’ confusion and concern must have doubled. But then one strikecraft crumpled, as if a massive invisible hand had squeezed it. Then there was a flash of plasma from an unknown source and a second strikecraft exploded. Whatever [i]Vambrace[/i] was fighting, it certainly wasn’t imaginary. [u][b]Somewhere in Abyss Front Territory[/b][/u] “Sooo….” Lieutenant Commander Renan, captain of the corvette [i]Carnelian[/i], drew out the word in the only outward display of impatience he would allow himself. “Have you determined where we are?” Normally Renan would have known exactly where his ship was. But while traveling between stars something… had happened. The ship had undergone some kind of turbulence, which should have been impossible during FTL travel, and had ended up somewhere that it wasn’t supposed to be. “I’ve checked three separate times,” Renan’s navigation specialist began, unaware of how close even that delay was bringing him to suffering his superior officer’s wrath. “And I’m pretty sure we are outside of the Ghost Nebula.” “Outside of the Ghost Nebula?” Renan repeated. “That’s impossible.” “Yes sir.” The navigation specialist agreed. “Yet I’m certain we are. I can’t say exactly where we are, but I’m certain that we are to the galactic north of the Ghost Nebula.” “Outside of the Ghost Nebula…” Renan repeated again, this time the words came out in a whisper. Was it a miracle or had something about the barrier of the Ghost Nebula changed. “Um sir…” The officer in charge of the engineering watch spoke up. “It looks like it’ll take a week before we can repair all the damage that… turbulence did.” “That’s fine.” Renan said. “It’ll give us a while to observe the locals before we leave. Call Lieutenant Meur to the bridge. I want to talk to him.” Meur was the commanding officer of the platoon of drop troopers that [i]Carnelian[/i] had been transporting. Renan didn’t normally enjoy using [i]Carnelian[/i] as a taxi for ground troops, but if he was going to be in unexplored space there weren’t any soldiers he’d rather have than drop troopers. “This… is quite the situation we find ourselves in.” Meur said after Renan had explained the situation to him. “Do you think the locals have detected us yet?” The question surprised Renan. He hadn’t expected a ground pounder like Meur to think of that. “Possibly. This is a stealthy ship, even if it's only a model A. Still… that exit out of FTL was…” “Rough?” Meur supplied. “Yes.” Renan agreed, thankful Meur hadn’t said sloppy. “So I wouldn’t be surprised if the locals had detected our arrival. Still, as long as we don’t move around too much and are careful with our emissions the locals shouldn’t be able to detect us without getting much closer.” “Alright. So what do you need out of me and my men?” Meur asked. “At the moment, nothing. But we don’t know anything about the locals. Be ready for anything.”