Prologue:
Alone.
Adrift.
Forgotten.
Stranded in the inter-galactic void.
Nearby, a mere thousand light years away, a star burnt brightly, one of just a handful out here.
The ship, far more ancient than anything seen today, was a relic from long forgotten time.
Even those who lived in the galaxy knew nothing of the race, finding only a few scattered artefacts.
But today, a bright point of light was rushing towards them. It is moving at phenomenal speeds, far exceeding the speed of light..
The Jikara Navigator emerged from Phase Space very close to the relic. The pilot, a young Vasari scout, knew instantly he had discovered something amazing.
The drifting ship dwarfed his tiny vessel- and it had been enlarged greatly as part of the jump preparations.
It was obviously a battleship of some sort- with powerful looking weapons bristling everywhere, a thick hull and an imposing design, what else could it be?
He reached for the Phasic transmitter.
This was excellent news.
Chapter 1.
TEC controlled space.
TEC Capital.
Solust.
A flight of bombers thundered across the pale mauve afternoon sky. The triple rising of the moons signalled the end of another glorious day.
The Solust system, the ancient capital of any galactic empire it seemed, seemed relatively quiet and unassuming, considering its galactic importance. Especially when you considered how many thousands of systems obeyed the orders from here.
But the aliens had showed their omnipotence, their advancement.
In those terrifying first days, their veritable armada had hit the local capitals, the most populous worlds and any other site of strategic importance. The crippling blows had sent them reeling, taking them months to try and even present something reminiscent of a defence.
How did he know this?
He had seen it first hand, from the very beginning. He'd been there, at Formatis, a sector capital on the fringes of the galaxy.
One of the first places to feel the wrath of the alien invasion. One of the first to be culled.
Formatis.
Ten years prior.
Peaceful.
Pacifist.
Unwarlike.
Passive almost.
These were the words used to describe the Trade Order back then. Back when the Alluxide dynasty was still in power, helping spread peace and prosperity to as many systems as they could.
The terran, bucolic paradise on the far rim of the galaxy. It was a local capital and a major trading hub.
Was.
Formatis today was a volcanic, stripped bare planet, the entire population culled like primitive farming animals.
So much death and devestation.
The world, now a mere backdrop against the magnificent view of stars and galaxies, slowly grew smaller as the carrier slowly drew away, then disappeared completely as the ship jumped to Phase Space.
Relaxing in the hangar, tinkering with his fighter, Jon knew nothing of the view.
Space was now less of a majestic view and more of a battlefield to him.
At thirty-two, he'd seen his fair share of fighting.
Pirates, rebels, even an uprising of an entire sector. He'd seen it, experienced it and destroyed a fair bit.
His face, relatively smooth and unblemished, did not bare the signs of a war so visibly as it did on some.
But it was there.
Hard to notice, but you could see it in his eyes.
Jon had killed many, blown them to pieces, destroyed ships with hundreds aboard.
Such was life. This was his life, the path he had chosen. Where most shirked from battle, from death, from war as a whole, he had been one of the scarce few who had joined the Trade Militia, a barely formal, "official" force that defended the planets from those who would disturb the peace.
The carrier exited Phase Space close to Formatis. The bucolic world was quietly bustling with trade ships, the system never truly sleeping.
The sun was rising from their angle, brilliant rays streaking across the horizon.
Peaceful.
Civilized.
A testament of their glory.
Done with his maintenance, Jon prep'd the fighter for a short hop around the system.
Grabbing two wingmen, he flew out of the hangar on a quick joy ride.
The view was even more amazing from the view of a cockpit. The sprawling city, the star-speckled backdrop, the two moons racing each other around the planet.
"Heraklies, this is Escort Leader Canaris."
"Go ahead."
"Retrofits are complete, we are ready for our next patrol.
"Hows the Vino? She took a battering last time."
"All good" a new voice chirped out. "Structural integrity optimal, hull repairs all done."
Jon (correctly) assumed that the new voices belonged to the helmsmen of each respective escort frigate that had been assigned to them.
The two small frigates were leaving the spaceport now, pulling away from the planet to meet the Heraklies.
Both had patched and mismatched hulls, losing the seamless, professional look. But, like most ships of the Trade Militia, they were long overdue for retirement and suffering from an insignificant budget.
They really were a militia, a far cry from a real military.
Above the planet, more Phase Space windows opened- a group of them, significant ones. They were opening very close to the planet as well- a normal ship would have been torn apart.
Black, imposing- alien. They were just different, far larger than anything he had seen. Enough to house thousands- and there dozens of the ships.
An entire fleet, exiting just above the planet.
Smaller ships emerged too- almost on par with their escorts. But these ships were much more advanced, much more deadly.
The front half was gently slanted, faint coloured lines stretching across the hull. A tube- for a lack of a better term- rippled with metal rings- not much thinner than the front, connected the front with the engines at the rear.
Most spread out over the planet, but one of the giant ships- making his fighter look more insignificant than a gnat to an elephant- and a small cohort of the alien frigates broke off and headed for them.
"God they're fast-"
"Heraklies, please advise?" Jon transmitted, throttling down and watching the alien ships soar past. The sheer, smooth black hull was incredibly close. The alien capital ship- it was so big it was clearly of that class- roared past, and Jon turned in the cockpit to see the two aging frigates tentatively edging forwards.
They sent out a broadcast on every frequency- "This is Trade Militia-"
The aliens opened fire.
Brilliantly coloured bursts of energy fire shot out form the ships, missiles firing off. A flight of alien fighters flew out of a small hangar bay on the underside, dodging and weaving around the ships.
Before Jon could realize it, they were weaving in and around the frigates- coming at them from every direction- Jon gunned the engines , his wingmen following suit a moment later.
One lagged for a brief moment, hesitating- and the alien fighters tore it up with vicious energy beams.
It exploded, the atmosphere venting suddenly, the fuel detonating- the hapless pilot died mercifully quick.
Jon swooped down among the alien frigates, their mighty capital ship firing salvo after salvo of brilliant purple missiles at the doomed escorts. The capital was longer than it was wide, the tip separating in two, like a tuning fork. The missile batteries were attached a bit behind midships. It must have lacked anti-fighter weaponry- Jon and his following wingman came as close as they dared, and only sporadic fire from the alien fighters flashed past his cockpit.
"They're gaining on us Jon..." his sole wingman radioed.
"I can see that Fillis!" he barked back.
They flew under the capital ship, doggedly pursued by the fighters.
Jon pulled up, following the curvature of the ship. As soon as they were clear of the underside, he led them in a dead straight path for the Heraklies.
They raced across the void of space, dodging the aliens fire. Strange weapons fire whipped past them- like orange balls of energy almost- and smashed into the escorts. The Heraklies shield flickered as a few stray shots missed the Vino.
Suddenly, the Canaris' shield collapsed, the alien shots piercing the hull with ease.
It exploded, all the lives aboard perishing instantly.
The two fighters raced past the destroyed ship, swooping in on the Heraklies.
Behind them, the Vidos exploded in similar fashion. The alien forces surged forward, firing on the carrier.
It began to move, just as Jon and Fillis swooped in.
The alien fighters dispersed, dodging around the shield.
In a last, fleeting glimpse of the planet, he saw the very surface of the planet being sucked up by the alien invaders.
Everyone on the planet was surely dead.