Battlestar Galactica. The Rift
Prologue
The Cylons had won, chased into the night with only what they carried. The few surviving members of the Human race desperately fled to a promised land known only by fables and legend.
United by purpose, the Colonials succeeded at first. They escaped from their mechanical enemies into uncharted space and established a new government to bring order to their ragtag fleet. They even struck back at their foe, taking needed fuel in a bold attack.
But it wasn't enough. Surviving wasn't enough. As the survivors settled into their new routine, the adrenaline faded, and tedium grew. Perceived slights and disagreements festered into wounds, egos were bruised, and divisions emerged within.
The fleet was in open revolt. The President had escaped her prison on the Galactica. Running from both the Cylons and the military, she relied on her supporters to lie, to obfuscate, and to smuggle her throughout the fleet. Meanwhile, the military, reeling from the near loss of their Commander, fiercely fought to regain the order and control they knew the fleet needed.
While the Colonials fought amongst themselves, the Cylons plotted. A new and devastating plan, set into motion weeks earlier, was on the horizon. The Colonials had no chance. The end was near. Unless humanity could put their differences aside and unite as one.
