A/N: Call this a little side project of mine, to be irregularly updated, but I suppose it will get done eventually. Feel free to leave comments, criticisms, suggestions, that sort of thing. This chapter will be setup, expect more juicy stuff later.
Sins of a Solar Empire is owned by Stardock Corporation, Star Trek and all trademarks therein are owned by CBS and Paramount, or something like that. I own nothing, I wish I did.
In the beginning, there were the Vasari. They ruled over a great and ancient empire, expanding from the galactic core, under a benevolent, yet iron fist. Primitive cultures were peacefully assimilated into the Empire upon discovery as the Dark Fleet pushed the borders of the Empire further and further. More advanced societies on the other hand, were brutally subjugated to the will of the Empire, ruled over from orbital stations upon which their Vasari masters could see all, and prevent rebellion.
But like all things, the Empire soon came to an end, and when their end came, it began form within. A Vasari research station tampered with forces beyond it's reckoning, and unleashed...something. One by one, worlds fell silent, a cancer eating away at the core of the Empire. The rate of expansion of this threat exceeded even that of the Dark Fleet, and when local wings of the Fleet were sent in to deal with the menace, nothing was ever heard from them again.
When the ancient Vasari homeworld fell silent, the leadership of the Empire was goaded into action. The Dark Fleet was recalled from the frontiers, for a full on assault upon the unknown menace. It was the greatest marshaling of forces in the history of the Empire, a mighty hammer to drive all enemies of the Empire before it. It failed.
A single warship, a Kortul class Devastator scarred with battle damage, dropped from phase space at a colony on the fringe of the Empire. When the colonists boarded the ship, they were horrified by what they saw. Whatever it was, whatever had destroyed the might of the Empire, had driven a battle hardened crew mad with fear. They went over the data records, got what information they could from the still intelligible crew members, and then in a rare act of autonomy, decided to evacuate to a far off system. Using every ship available, freighters, warships, civilian passenger liners, they moved everyone they could, packing up their entire civilization before fleeing on a journey that would last ten thousand years
And so they have run, stopping long enough to strip the resources from a system and to leave a warning beacon before moving on. But for all this time, the march of their unknown enemy is inexorable. All their beacons fall silent, and all they can do is run.
In the beginning, there was the Trade Order. Founded by economically driven settlers, perhaps from that most fabled of planets known as Earth, For over a thousand years the Trade Order enjoyed a golden age of peace and prosperity, having been founded on strict economic and moral principles, yet allowing each nation to maintain their own governments and interests. They were an industrial juggernaut, and the ways of war became long forgotten as what few conflicts arose were easily dealt with in sanctioned courts. People were rich, times were good..
That all came crashing down with the arrival of the Vasari in Trader space. Stricken by infighting and their lack of military forces, the Vasari crushed everything in their path, and within months, defeat seemed inevitable. It would take drastic action to save Trade Space, lest they become another species enslaved by the Vasari in their continual flight.
And in the dark of night, that action came. Sovereign worlds ceded their authority to the Order, and the Trader Emergency Coalition was born, to fight the Vasari onslaught. And so they went to war, the economic powerhouse and industrial juggernaut turning all their resources to the prosecution of war. Their civilian fleet was retooled into warships, and the TEC fought back, eventually bringing the Vasari advance to a standstill. For a time, they thought they might even drive back the Vasari, and retake their lost territory. They were wrong.
In the beginning, there was the Advent. Formed from one of the scattered groups of survivors from the Great Wars, they sought spiritual escape on a fringe world. This pursuit gifted them with natural psionic abilities, which they augmented with cybernetic and neurochemical implants, allowing them to find enlightenment amongst the collective consciousness of Advent society, also known as the Unity.
Then everything changed. Their planet was discovered by the Trade Order who, horrified by what they saw as gross breaches of Order beliefs, voted overwhelmingly to banish them from Trader Space. Military force was deployed, occupying the planet and banishing the Advent far in uncharted space, to never be seen or heard from again, or so they hoped.
But this was not to be. Their banishment created a deep impression on the collective psych of the Advent, a desire for revenge upon those who banished them and left them to die. They pushed their technology to greater and further heights, integrating their psionic abilities with their weapons, creating powerful PsiTech. They made a military, with frightening weapons of devastating power, as they grew more dangerous than the Trade Order could ever believe. Resources exhausted, armada ready, they decided to return.
And so their onslaught was launched, taking the TEC in the flank ten years after the war with the Vasari began, They made decent progress until forces could be deployed from the Vasari front to counter their advance, and stop their attacks. It seemed their sworn enemy was more resilient than expected, though less advanced
Five years after their attack, the movement of the fronts had ground to a halt as all sides regrouped, and dug in. Massive starbases, greater defenses, were constructed to aid the fleets, to hold the line. But this did nothing to encourage a breakthrough, rather wearing down all sides as they rammed their heads uselessly against these mighty walls.
More time passed, ten years of constant warfare and bloodshed, shattered fleets, ruined worlds. The hulks of dead planets, having long ceased to be habitable, became warzones due to their strategic location. With resources dwindling, diplomacy was finally given a chance, as the various factions sought peace, an end to this unending struggle. But this mood did not last very long, as all sides felt that the peace would not last, or that it would be a waste with the current situation, having not gained all they were striving for.
Under the strain of conflict, the failed diplomacy, cracks have begun to emerge in the Empires. In the TEC, dissent increases over the strategy to take in the war, whether they should be defensive and isolationist, or militarist and take the war to the enemy, to pay them back for everything that has been done to them.. The Advent as well have begun to question the war, with some desiring for the conflict to rage on so they may have their vengeance and dominance, while others wonder if they have not gone astray, and so seek the purging of the corruption within the Unity, and to make peace with the other Empires. Even the Vasari have not escaped this internal turmoil. Some worry that they have lingered too long, that the enemy will catch up, and so advocate stripping what they can from the space they occupy, to continue their flight, while others speak out for the two other Empires, wanting to bring them along so their resources and knowledge could be added to the fleet. It is a state of affairs that cannot last, as rebellion and civil war breaks out in the Empires.
But time is up, the Vasari were right. The last warning beacon, the one placed just before the Vasari entered Trader Space, has fallen silent. The enemy is here, they are out of time. The storm has arrived. And on all comms channels, all communication frequencies, one message plays and replays. It is the last message sent by the warning buoy, an uncharacteristic break as they were able to get a message off. And it is a message that struck fear into all Vasari who here it. For death has come at last, to claim his bounty.
"We are the Borg. Lower your shields and surrender your ships. We will add your biological and technological distinctiveness to our own. Your culture will adapt to service us. Resistance is futile "