Pretty heavy and fairly graphic stuff in this one, if you're sensitive to that kind of thing, reader discretion is advised
January 23rd, 2090
Major Sabina Rakhmonova sipped idly at a bulb of green tea as she entered her CIC, savoring the warmth. Even in the climate-controlled environment she still felt cold in the mornings. She was a short woman of slight build, so slight even her extra-small space force fatigues had a hard time fitting snuggly. A polite person would likely describe her as "petite". A not-so-polite person would probably call her "mousy". She had thick black hair she kept in a tight braid and light olive skin that wrapped itself around a face that stopped just shy of being gaunt. Her voice was soft, her speech was hesitant, and she lacked the aura of self-assured confidence one might hope to get from their commanding office. Needless to say, she didn't quite cut the figure of the stereotypical starship commander. She looked more like someone you'd find at your local library than in the command chair of a warship.
Sabina was certainly aware of these things, and she had come to terms with them long ago. She would never have the inspiring presence or infectious confidence that came so naturally to others, but she knew one thing for certain: She was damned good at her job. Not because of some natural brilliance or talent, but because she'd worked her ass off to be that way. She'd clawed her way from rural Tajikistan to the command seat of one of humanity's warships (her beloved Nashik), and she'd done it all on her own merit, through her own determination.
That determination was about to be put to the test.
Major Rakhmonova reluctantly withdrew the bulb's straw from her mouth and gave her best attempt at an early-morning salute as the sergeant yelled "CO on deck" and the crew came to attention.
"As you were." She managed to say, before returning the straw to her mouth and heading for her terminal. She took a generous sip and then set it aside for later. Garrison duty was thirsty work. She went to stand next to her terminal. Lieutenant Virtanen, her XO, looked up at her and gave a tired smile.
"Ma'am."
The Major gave the officer a nod. "Lieutenant. Anything interesting happen on your watch?"
He shook his head. "Quiet as the grave. One minor thing of note, however: The check-in message from command is overdue by about ten minutes. Probably just the new buoys on the fritz, but-"
"But, it also might not be. Run a diagnostic on the buoy."
"Already in progress."
"Good man. Any results?"
"Inconclusive so far."
"Wonderful." She huffed in annoyance. The quarians had introduced humanity to many technologies in the relatively short time since making contact, and easily the most important was the FTL comm buoy. While FTL communication was known to humanity, the sort of long-range instantaneous transmitters used by the rest of the galaxy were not. Humanity had made getting buoys out to every remotely important settlement and government installation the highest priority, to the point where even frontier supply stations like this one were equipped with them.
Being new technology, it was entirely possible that the Lieutenant was right and this was a bug. But if it wasn't...there were three thousand people on the station, most of them civilian contractors and their families. Sabina grimaced and made her decision.
"Sound Battle Stations." she ordered NCO deck chief. The man looked at her in surprise, but he followed orders without question. He keyed a code into the intercom, and a piercing alarm assaulted the ears of Nashik's crew.
"Battle Stations. Battle Stations. All hands to Battle Stations. This is not a drill."
Nashik's barriers were raised, and all of her weapons and other combat systems were heated up.
"...What exactly are we preparing for, Major?" Lieutenant Virtanen asked.
"According to the manuals, 'inconclusive' results returned from a diagnostic can mean a number of things. One of those things is jamming."
"Forgive me for saying, ma'am, but I hope your hunch is wrong."
She looked sadly at the man. "So do I, Lieutenant." Her eyes fell on the sensors officer, and she looked at the young woman with a dreadful sense of anticipation. The little red dwarf system their supply base resided in was nearly empty, save for a small belt of asteroids and dwarf planets. The relatively small gravity field of the star meant that ships could drop in somewhat close, which means it wouldn't take long for the light of emissions from enemy intruders to reach-"
"Contacts!" the sensors officer shouted. "Satellite network reports eleven contacts, military grade emissions! One standard cruiser, one light cruiser, eight destroyers, one heavy support. Forty light-minutes out and falling."
The light of emissions from ships approaching at FTL could only propagate at the speed of, well, light. This meant that ships dropping out of FTL into a star system could potentially remain undetected for hours, as anyone inside of the star system would only see them when the light actually reached them. To counter this, most developed settlements would have a network of detection satellites that could detect the light sooner and then communicate the detection data via a shortrange FTL signal. The size and intensity of these detection grids varied. The Citadel had thousands of the things surrounding it in a twelve light-hour diameter sphere. The backwater supply outpost Nashik was currently guarding had half a dozen, strategically placed in such a way that they provided a sphere of "vision" about twenty light-minutes in diameter.
Sabina's mind raced as she examined the detection data. They must've jumped in incredibly close to this system's red line. The detections are thirty minutes out from our position. So, at least twenty minutes for the light of them exiting FTL to reach the nearest satellite. Assuming they're travelling at the standard cruise speed of one-quarter light speed, then they've already travelled roughly five light minutes closer in that time. So, twenty-five more light minutes to go. My God, we've only got an hour and twenty minutes at most until they're here.
While that amount of time might seem lengthy in other forms of warfare, in space war it was a pittance. Sabina wracked her brain desperately, but she drew a blank. There wasn't a chance in hell a single frigate could hope to fight off a force that large. She stared at the images of the ships (which were of surprisingly good quality given the distance, as the satellites were imported quarian tech), looking for answers. To her surprise, she found one. She turned to Virtanen and spoke quietly, so the crew wouldn't hear.
"I think I have a plan, but it's not a very good one."
Virtanen quirked an eyebrow, speaking quietly as well. "Does this plan involve running? Because I don't see another realistic option." He grimaced. "Not exactly pretty leaving all those people to the batarian's tender mercies, but us going out in a blaze of glory isn't going to help them. Making sure word gets back to the fleet will."
Sabina shook her head. "You've been to the briefings, batarian drives outclass ours completely. They've got at least four to six more light years per day than us at FTL. You're right about word needing to get back to the fleet, but the buoy needs to carry it, not us. If we somehow disrupt their communications jamming, then a signal can get out. If they can rally one of the response task forces in time, then there's a chance that they can intercept this fleet on its way back to batarian territory and free the captives."
Lieutenant Virtanen closed his eyes and breathed deep, then looked at Sabina. "I can't help but notice that you stop mentioning us after the signal gets out."
Sabina had a pained look as well. "There's little chance of us surviving, whether this plan succeeds or not. At best, the crew might be able to surrender and become captives themselves."
The Lieutenant narrowed his eyes at her. "...'the crew'?"
Sabina's features hardened. "The way I see it, I've got maybe two possible outcomes if I surrender, given my rank...and sex. Either I'll be horrifically tortured for intelligence, or they'll scramble my brains with a slave implant and sell me off as an exotic toy to some rich degenerate. Or both. I have no interest in meeting either of those fates. I'll be going down with the ship." A terrified chill went through her body as she said the words. Because she realized she meant them.
Virtanen was horrified at the statement, yet he found he couldn't blame her. What the batarians did to their captives wasn't a mystery. Frankly, he was having some similar lines of thought himself. He cleared his throat, desperately pushing those thoughts out of his mind.
"What's the plan?"
Sabina closed her eyes for a moment as she regained her composure, her sheer, animal terror feeling like ice water in her veins. When she had herself under lock and key, she looked back at Virtanen and gave him one of her rare smiles. Then she turned away, and raised her voice to address the deck crew.
"I need their current position, can we extrapolate from their trajectory?"
The crew, distraught by the vastly superior force arrayed before them, was all too happy to have orders to follow, to keep their mind off of the fear. The technicians worked, and the ship's computer generated it's best extrapolation of where the the enemy was now, based on where they had been twenty minutes ago. As far as the machine could tell, the flotilla was coming straight towards the station (Or, more accurately, where the station was going to be in about an hour and ten minutes). Sabina studied the simulation, and then gave her orders.
"Angle us so that our silos are out of their field of view, and then cold launch everything in our light silos. Wide spread." The ship rolled and turned as the pilot followed her orders. With the openings of Nashik's missile silos facing away from the batarians, the doors to them opened. Slowly, a dozen Prince-class variable warhead nuclear torpedoes drifted out of their silos. They were magnetically propelled, to avoid any kind of emissions, minimizing their chances of being detected by the enemy. This was the meaning of a "cold launch". Of course, anyone with modern sensors tech could easily detect them if they were actively looking, but it was better than nothing. Then the missiles used small compressed air "stealth" thrusters to very slowly maneuver themselves out into a very wide and loose formation, still slowly drifting away from the Nashik.
"Now, we wait." Sabina said simply, more to herself than anything.
The wait was a little over an hour, as that was around the time it took for the batarians to reach a distance with minimal light delay.
Strange, how an hour can simultaneously feel like an eternity and like no time at all. Thought Sabina. She'd spent the time going over her plan with her officers. It was hard to tell if they were impressed by the plan or by her capacity for self-delusion.
At this distance, the images of the batarian ships were crystal clear. They were each covered in unique, colorful markings. Those individuals who were knowledgeable on batarian ship design (a group which included Sabina) would likely notice that the ships were all of older models. The sorts of vessels typically used by second-line units in the Hegemony Navy. However, Sabina had done her homework. Ships operated by by the Batarian noble clans would typically paint their ships in the colors of their houses. Sabina was confident that she knew what she was looking at: Not a reservist naval patrol, but rather some Batarian nobleman's personal star fleet. The standard cruiser was almost certainly his flagship, and the light cruiser appeared to also be wearing his colors, so that was likely his property as well. The destroyers were each painted with a different scheme, and likely belonged to his vassals, with each nobleman sworn to him flying their family's personal warship.
Depriving the nobility of their retinue was both culturally distasteful and politically expensive for the Hegemony leadership (most of whom were nobles themselves). For a state as obsessed with internal security as the Hegemony, this cavalier attitude towards armed non-state groups in their territory was often baffling to outsiders. In truth, it benefited the Hegemony government greatly. While the Navy still patrolled the space lanes and government territory, the nobility was responsible for protecting and patrolling their own territory, a task which they pursued with great enthusiasm. The system effectively gave the Hegemony a reserve navy that they did not have to finance or maintain. In exchange, all they need do is look the other way when the nobility raided and fought each other. The nobility and Hegemony had had this arrangement for millenia, and the nobles knew exactly where the "line" was, and made sure that their miniature wars stayed firmly behind it, lest the wrath of the Hegemony come down on them.
Still, second-line warships or not, these were no ragged bandits or pirates. These were still proper warrior caste men, at least as well trained as the Navy. The regular raiding and skirmishing also meant that both the crew and the commanders would be seasoned combatants, more so than even most Navy personnel. However, they had a weakness. It was a weakness Sabina intended to exploit.
"Bring us closer to the flagship." She ordered.
The pilot complied, his heart racing with fear. Nashik approached, drawing close, but still very far outside the flotilla's engagement envelope. The batarian ships, decelerating up to this point, chose this moment to stop and flip back over. They drifted, their long range active sensors pouring over the Nashik as they examined her. The cruiser, at the head of the little fleet, approached a little more boldly. Sabina had a ghost of a smile on her face.
"Fire a warning shot across her bow." She ordered.
The weapons team complied, though they looked at each other in confusion, trying to guess what their commander was playing at. The Nashik's single gimballed main fusion drive swiveled and fired two very brief burns. The first burn turned the ship to aim the spinal mount, and the second burn decelerated the turn to a stop. It then fired a third time, stabilizing the ship as it fired a single round across the bow of the batarian cruiser. At this range, the shot was slow going, and the cruiser made no move to dodge. It was clear from its trajectory that this shot had not been intended to hit. If Sabina's reading material had been correct, then the entire batarian flotilla would see it for what it was: a challenge.
Please God, let the blue-blooded bastard take the bait. Sabina prayed.
The cruiser continued to drift for another agonizing minute, then it maneuvered, and burned for the Nashik. The cruiser's escorts did not follow. Sabina almost wanted to scream in relief. She spoke to the pilot.
"Take us back, slowly."
The frigate fired its reverse thrusters and set itself to drift backwards.
Lieutenant Virtanen tapped his fingers on his armrest nervously. He turned to Sabina.
"You think he knows?"
Sabina shrugged. "About the bombs? Probably. Odds are good he's an experienced combatant. He's got to suspect something, at the very least. His pride and the expectations of his vassals mean he won't turn down single combat, but he also knows damned well that we're no aristocrats who are going to play by his rules."
The cruiser accelerated a little faster, giving a not particularly urgent chase to the human frigate. Things went on like this for many more minutes, until finally Sabina was satisfied with the position of the two ships. She turned to the pilot again.
"Decelerate."
The frigate came to a relative stop, and the cruiser fired its reverse thrusters and did the same. It did an active sensor sweep of the area around the Nashik. Sabina shrugged.
"They'd have to be stupid to have not guessed it by now. Fire all torpedoes!"
The dozen nuclear missiles lowered their mass and fired their thrusters, accelerating at blistering speeds as they shot out towards the cruiser. Not even a second after they had passed the Nashik, Sabina gave another order.
"Full acceleration. Charge the cruiser!"
Nashik fired her single massive engine, rapidly gaining speed. Even with the mass effect limiting inertia, Sabina still felt herself lightly pressed into her chair as the powerful human machine of war was pushed to its limit. The ship was rapidly gaining on her torpedoes, which were beginning to enter the engagement envelope of the cruiser's GARDIAN defense lasers. Against only a dozen targets, it would only be a handful of seconds until the missiles were destroyed.
Fortunately, the real trap would already be in range by then.
"Fire-all from the heavy silos and then pull out! Now!" Sabina roared.
Two silo doors opened, and a single King-class nuclear DEW missile shot out of each one. Their mass was already lowered, and their powerful engines sent them soaring towards their target at high speed. The instant the missiles were away, the Nashik burned exceptionally hard, altering its trajectory dramatically to over shoot the batarian cruiser.
It all happened in less than ten seconds. The nuclear torpedoes were all evaporated within a few seconds of entering the GARDIAN envelope. A single one managed to detonate, but it was too far out of range. It's spear of nuclear fire managed to do little more than scorch the dorsal hull. Fortunately, the torpedoes were not the main event. The two King-class missiles were barely a second behind the torpedoes. Their detonation pattern was a testament to Nashik's tactical officer's skill and the quality of the missiles' onboard computers. To the naked eye it was barely perceptible, but the missiles did not detonate simultaneously, as one might expect. At about seven hundred meters outside the GARDIAN engagement envelope, the first missile detonated. The high-yield nuclear warhead exploded in a ball of pure energy, but that was just the fuel. What did the damage was the incredibly powerful bomb-pumped laser that could be seen for a few microseconds shooting out from the missile's explosion.
The laser completely melted the outer hull of a large section of the cruiser's belly. The fact that it didn't blast clear through the ship was a testament to the energy-resistant design focus of Citadel-derived warship hulls. Fortunately, the tactical officer's firing pattern had accounted for this fact, as the second missile detonated a few fractions of a second later at two hundred and seventy meters. Before the heat and energy of the first blast could dissipate, the second laser struck. This one did blow clean through the hull. The majority of the ship was completely gutted by the shot. Hundreds of people were instantly vaporized in a blast of energy so quick that their brains wouldn't have even had time to register the pain. The cruiser was totaled, her drive core completely fried, and the vast majority of her crew disintegrated. In spite of this, her automated systems still threatened Nashik with fire from what secondary cannons could still function on the backup power. The Nashik, with her barriers buckled from the fire she'd taken in her torpedo run, was battered by the fire. Had she been a frigate designed by any other species she likely would've been pulverized.
Fortunately, humanity's nostalgic attachment to thick, heavy armor and sturdy, needlessly expensive construction had saved the little ship. She looked like an angry god had grabbed her and ground her hull against a pit of cosmic gravel, but she was in one piece. Sabina did not let herself feel relief. Not yet.
"Comms...?" she asked, daring to hope.
The communications tech paused, examining her console. Then she looked at her commander, smiling. "Buoy confirms signal away!"
There were muted cheers of celebration. Tears were shed, both of joy at their success, and sickening, crippling fear at what was to come. It had been Sabina's hope that knocking out the flagship would, however briefly, rip a hole in the signaling network of the batarian flotilla. An outgoing message had been queued up in the buoy in the hopes that, even if only for a fraction of a second, the jamming would be disrupted. And it had been. Sabina nodded to herself, feeling something resembling relief, then keyed her intercom.
"Attention all hands, abandon ship. Repeat, all hands abandon ship." The deck crew scurried about, making for the exits. Sabina leaned back into her chair, her heart hammering in her chest. She was sweating heavily, and struggling to hold back tears.
"Major...?" Lieutenant Virtanen's face was a question.
She looked up at him, trying to find words. "My...intentions haven't changed, Lieutenant."
The man nodded slowly. He tapped at his console, bringing up the tactical computer's UI. "I'll handle weapons if you have navigation...?"
She smiled, not bothering to stop the tears this time. "It's been a privilege, Mikko."
"Likewise, ma'am." He was blinking away tears of his own. He cracked his knuckles. "Now, let's make sure the Space Force gets its money's worth out of this bucket."
Jack Kent felt his grip on his son's shoulder tighten as he watched the camera drones' live stream of the battle outside. Even at max zoom things were barely visible, but it was still possible to figure out what was going on. Jack didn't think the puny frigate stood a chance against a force that size, but he had to respect the poor bastards for trying. If he'd been running that ship, he'd have cut and run, he knew that much. He gasped and gave a shout of triumph with the rest of the crowd when two brief lances of blinding light gutted the batarian ship.
The brave little frigate was still in one piece, somehow. The crowd murmured with concern as little dots that some recognized as life pods shot out of the frigate. Jack grimaced. If it was out of the fight...
He was pleasantly surprised when the frigate fired its engine and burned for the rest of the batarian fleet, which was approaching on attack vector. Jack looked at the huge force in despair. The destroyed cruiser had just been a false hope. One less batarian cruiser I suppose, but it did precisely fuck all for those of us stuck in this tin can. Jack thought.
His thoughts were interrupted by horrified shrieks and gasps from the crowd. The frigate was charging headlong at one of the destroyers, guns blazing. I don't believe it. Crazy fucker's doing a kamikaze attack!
Jack found himself proved correct as the frigate and destroyer were both destroyed in a flash of light. The were screams of horror and sobs from the onlookers now.
Poor little Freddy was lost. "Dad? Dad? What happened? I thought they won? W-why...?"
Jack squeezed his shoulder and gave him his best attempt at a reassuring look. He didn't even know how to begin to answer that one. He turned his attention back to the screen. It was like a train wreck. He couldn't look away. The batarian fleet seemed to scatter briefly in the aftermath of the kamikaze attack, but they quickly dressed their ranks and proceeded towards the station. As they passed near the life pods, one of the destroyers slowed slightly, and then sent a round from one of its mass drivers through each of them.
This time the crowd reacted with screams of pure terror. Jack felt himself start to panic too. Christ. If they're not bothering to pick up captives there, then...
This fear was so powerful that he was actually relieved when he saw the slave ship appear on screen. They were definitely still taking captives...Oh God in heaven help me, they're still taking captives.
The rest of the crowd seemed to understand the implication too, and it did not do wonders for the panic.
"What...what are we going to do? Oh God, what are we going to do?"
"I-I've heard things, about what...y'know...to women."
"-this can't be happening this can't be happening this can't be happening this can't be happening-"
"You! What should we do?"
Ah, Fuck. That one was for me, wasn't it?
Tall and gangly, with his heavily-stained Space Force Jump suit and a patch on his shoulder of the Australian flag so worn it was barely recognizable, he didn't exactly look like the astronauts you see in the recruiting pictures.
He struggled to speak. I just fix the bloody drones, you imbeciles. What do you expect me to do? "Just-everybody try their best to remain calm!" Fuck me, what an idiotic thing to say.
"Are you joking?" A woman cried out, panic in her voice. "We're being fucking hauled away as slaves by psychotic mass-murdering serial-rapist aliens and you're telling us to remain calm?"
"Look we're-fuck-we're stuck with this, alright? We can't do anything-we can't do anything to stop this. Just..." Ah Christ what did that training briefing say? "...stay in a group, do not get caught out alone. Male or female. Just...Christ, just link arms or something if you have to, alright? Whatever it takes, stay together."
It did little to calm the crowd.
A sobbing woman was actually pulling her hair out. "Please, please God this isn't happening, this can't be fucking happening..."
A man who had grown incredibly pale looked through the crowd. "Surely, surely we can reason with them? Why would they-it's just not rational to do-"
"There are kids here, what are we supposed to-"
"-we've got no choice, we fight. I'm not getting chipped like a dog by some glass-eyed fucking-"
"They-they can't seriously do that to human women, right? I mean, we're aliens to them, why would they even be-they've got fucking four eyes, it-it doesn't make any-"
"JESUS CHRIST GET ME THE FUCK OUT OF HERE! GET ME FUCKING OUT! RIGHT FUCKING NOW-"
There was a deafening metallic crash, and everyone in the room was instantly silenced by it. Clattering sounds could be heard. Minutes went by, each feeling like an hour. Finally, the noises stopped. The intercom crackled, and a synthetic batarian voice echoed throughout the station.
"ATTENTION CAPTIVES. THIS STATION WILL BE DESTROYED WHEN WE ARE DONE HERE. IF YOU ARE STILL ABOARD WHEN THE STATION IS DESTROYED, YOU WILL BE VAPORIZED IN THE EXPLOSION. YOUR CHOICE IS SIMPLE: LEAVE WITH US, OR DIE. ALL CAPTIVES WHO WISH TO LIVE WILL HEAD TO THE MAIN LOADING BAY." The intercom abruptly cut out. Jack took Freddy's hand and headed for the door.
Dad kept Freddy's hand tightly grasped in his own as he led him to the loading bay. Streams of people were heading the same way.
"Dad? Where are we going?"
His father's face was a picture of agony. "We're going with the aliens."
"The quarians?" Freddy asked hopefully. He, of course, was old enough to know it was not the quarians he was going to. However, he was still enough of a child to hope that, somehow, reality would contort to his wishes and it would be the funny aliens with the bright colored suits he'd be going away with and not the black-eyed monsters he saw in his nightmares.
His father looked into the crook of his elbow. "No, Freddy, not the quarians."
As they approached the entrance to the main loading bay, Dad stopped and kneeled down at Freddy's eyelevel, hands on his shoulders.
"Freddy, you have to listen to what I'm about to say, do you understand?"
Teary eyed, Freddy nodded. "Yes."
"These aliens are not our friends, do you understand? They will hurt you if you provoke them. Do not look them in the eyes, do not talk to them. If they ask you a question, I will answer it. Most important of all, do not leave my sight. Do you understand?"
"Yes."
Dad hugged him. "Good boy. Now, keep hold of my hand."
The man led the child, following the small crowd of people herding into the loading bay. It was here that Freddy saw his first batarian in the flesh. He quickly averted his eyes, and his father squeezed his hand. Dad held Freddy's hand tightly, and slowly but surely they made their way to what looked to be the entrance to the batarian ship. It looked...funny.
Dad smiled weakly at him. "They probably had to jury-rig their airlock. Our airlocks weren't designed with the Citadel's rules and regulations in mind, so they had to improvise I'd bet. Surprised it's working as well as it did for a giant airlock like this..."
Freddy returned Dad's weak smile. Dad did that a lot. Answering his question before he'd even asked. He also liked to talk to distract Freddy from things he wasn't going to like. The pair was nearing the front of the crowd funneling into the slave ship. Just when it seemed about to swallow them, a voice that would be burned into Freddy's memory for the rest of his life spoke.
"You!" It was one of the batarian guards, pointing at dad. It shoved its way into the crowd and dragged Dad and Freddy out of it. It looked Dad up and down.
"Military?" it asked.
"What-" was all Dad managed to say before his brains were blown out over the crowd behind him, which shrieked in horror. Freddy didn't realize he was screaming for a very long moment. All he could do was scream and look down at what was left of his Dad's head. The only other sounds he heard were the gunshots from batarians dragging other Space Force personnel out of the crowd and executing them.
He didn't know how long he knelt there before he heard another voice he'd never forget.
"C'mon then love, c'mon. With me now love, c'mon." An old woman he didn't know scooped him up. She was a stranger, but she was soft and warm and had all her head still-He buried his face in her shoulder and sobbed.
"I know lad, I know love. I know." The old woman soothed as she carried him onto the ship.
For the rest of his life, Freddy wasn't sure if he was regretful or grateful that he'd never gotten one last look at his Dad.
A gigantic bummer to end on for a real bummer chapter, I know. Trust me when I say that the part where the good guys get a W is coming up very soon. I was seriously considering just adding the next chapter to this one, but the tonal whiplash would've been really bad, even by my standards. However leaving the cliffhanger here would've been cruel, even by my standards. That's why we're having a bit of a "double feature" here. The next chapter will be up very shortly.
This chapter kind of has a similar logic to it that the chapter "Processing" follows: That being that it's a lot easier to really understand something horrible if we view it from a more human scale. My intention here was to capture the sheer panic and terror that something like this entails. It's a situation that's just unimaginable, and I tried to draw on real history for the inspiration here, which unfortunately has a very wide selection of examples to choose from for this exact sort of situation (minus aliens and space travel, obviously).
As always, thank you very much for reading!
