Prologue
From the personal journal of Greta Lankenau
Zenith Jump Point, Attenbrooks
Deep Periphery
12th August 3052
We all watched as the CSR James McKenna, the last ship to appear at the rendezvous point, materialised. Of the Swift Wing Naval Assault Star, the James McKenna and Aegis Class White Terror were the only vessels to survive. Of the forty WarShips in the Snow Ravens touman, only twelve remained and the Ravens had fared the best in the Home Worlds War. The loss of the CSR Snow Raven, flagship of the fleet, had occurred soon after the second expedition to Huntress and had been a heavy blow for the Clan.
No one knew exactly when the war began but it was abundantly clear that Huntress had been the first battlefield. In March the Smoke Jaguar capital had gone dark. The Jaguars had sent in the Streaking Mist to investigate what had happened. Two days later, when no word had been received, a small task force of Jaguar ships and clusters had gone in to Huntress. They too had been lost.
Soon after this second incursion they came out of Huntress; tens of thousands of tiny shapes swarming across space. They had taken our knowledge of Jump Drive technology and done amazing things with it, creating themselves "gateways" through which they could jump hundreds of their own kind through at a time. They were unstoppable and within the first three weeks Ironhold, Atreus, Foster, Shadow and Lum had fallen. Then came the invasion of Strana Mechty, our sacred home among these far flung worlds. Founded by the Great Father himself, Strana Mechty had stood indomitable throughout all the years that the Clans had existed. The invaders took it in just six days.
The Battle for Strana Mechty had borne witness to cooperation among the Clans the like of which had not happened since Operation Klondike. Blood Spirit stood beside Burrock; Steel Viper stood beside Snow Raven. Strana Mechty saw some of the most brutal fighting ever to grace a Clan battlefield but, in the end, it was all for naught. The Clans lost their Land of Dreams and fell back in disarray. It was then that the bickering began with each Clan blaming another for the loss of their Capital. Many Trials of Grievance were fought and little realisation was forthcoming that we were simply weakening ourselves in the face of a greater foe. It was not until the next strike came that the stupidity stopped. What remained of the Cloud Cobra fleet was wiped out in that battle. The burning hulk of the Inquisitor falling into Brim's atmosphere was at once a terrible and beautiful sight to behold.
With the loss of their entire fleet the Cloud Cobras had no escape from the Home Worlds. We do not know what has become of them but can only assume that they have all perished under the guns of the invaders. The Cobras were not the only Clan to fall before the final, fateful decision was made. The Blood Spirits and Fire Mandrills met similar fates and while the remaining Home Clans survived in some form we are all but mere shadows of what we once were. Combined, we make up perhaps just a little more than one Clan in its entirety would have, before the Fall.
Those Khans that had survived the onslaught, and there were not many, gathered in a Grand Kurultai to decide what action to take. Their decision was quick and unanimous; the Clans must abandon the Home Worlds. We could not stand against this enemy so instead, to preserve what little there was left, we would run. No Clan had ever run from a fight before and there were plenty of Clans-people that rallied against this decision. Those dissidents were left behind to their fate; to their death.
And so, among the Clan fleet, thirty seven ships in total, plans were made, paths were plotted and then the call went out.
Exodus.