Emergency! Emergency! Emergency! Emergency!

Quentin opened his eyes, breathing in cold air that was gradually being warmed. He took in breath after breath of the air, nourishing his until recently cryogenically frozen lungs.

Emergency! Emergency! Emergency!

The screeching voice of the AI in charge of the ship's operations blared through the speakers in Quentin's cryo chamber. He reached up his aching hand, and hastily fiddled with the clasp holding his chamber closed. The motion brought the typical sickness associated with coming out of cryo sleep, and Quentin fiddled with the clasp more urgently.

Finally managing to get the clasp open, he staggered forward out of the chamber, fell to his knees, and retched the frozen food out of his stomach.

Emergency! Emergency!

Outside the chamber, the AI's voice blared even louder, accompanied by flashing red lights. He was vaguely aware of people moving around him, all of whom were shouting to be heard of the klaxons.

"What's going on?"

"Did something happen with the FTL drive?!"

"Would someone turn off that damned noise?"

Emergency!

"C'mon, lad, get to your feet!", said the gruff voice of one of the figures around him. Quentin was lurched to his feet; his stomach threatened to upchuck again, but it mercifully passed. "There you go, son, it's passed."

Quentin looked up into the wrinkled, but kind and slightly humorous, face of some veteran soldier. "You must be pretty green to FTL travel. Normally, us vets don't even get sick anymore."

Quentin nodded weakly; it was all he could do.

"Good gods!", came a shout from outside both their visions. Quentin and the old soldier turned to see that a couple men had opened one of the portholes to get a view of what was happening outside the ship, in space.

Quentin couldn't see what exactly was happening in the vacuum of space, but he could see red and orange lights dancing on the faces of the men watching.

Soon, men all over the chamber were opening the shutters of the various portholes set in the walls. Most of them swore at the sight that greeted them.

Quentin staggered over to the nearest crowded porthole along with the vet. He tried to squeeze himself into the crowd, but it was too tight. He could only see the lights dancing on their faces.

He turned to the vet. The latter was considerably taller than Quentin, and was looking out of the porthole with a white face. "What's happening?", said Quentin. The vet turned, seeming not to comprehend Quentin at all, then he moved a couple of the men away from porthole, allowing Quentin a clear view.

Quentin wished that he hadn't done this, in the long run. Two of the spaceships outside the porthole were burning. One of them was being rocked by explosions every few minutes.

And in those explosions, Quentin could clearly see bodies being sucked out into space.

The Second Conquest of Westeros

Episode 1

Arrival and Catastrophe

"...so with ship D being completely destroyed and massive amounts of damage to ships B, C, and E, we are looking at roughly one half of our invasion fleet being wiped out." The general did away with the 3D images of graphs and figures currently being projected into the center of the table. The holo-projector remained on, casting a faint blue glow around the room.

Princess Marian's hand was to her temple, gently kneading the skin around her brow. She looked quite a mess, with her clothes stained with both fuel and burn marks, her hair desperately needing a comb, and bags under her eyes.

The princess had always been someone unafraid to get her hands dirty, and she had insisted that she help with repairing the damages to the ships. In fact, when Francis had finally found her for the meetings of the chief commanders of the invasion force, she was repairing the underside of a fighter jet.

He looked down at his royal niece with a measure of fondness. Like many aristocrats of the Azul race, Marian had been sent to learn a common trade, to better understand the common folk. She had chosen to be sent to repair yards, where the gigantic colony ships were fixed.

The fondness was intercut with some fear at his niece's condition. She was prone to rather painful migraine attacks, and he hoped one wasn't coming from the sheer stress of the situation. Hell, he was about to have a supreme headache at the reports of this catastrophe.

"Do we know what caused it?", said Marian, still kneading her brow.

"No, your highness, though we have some theories.", said the same commander who had presented the damage report. "We believe it to just be a systems malfunction during FTL travel, that snowballed into a far more catastrophic one. It's known to happen, but very very rarely."

"Is there the possibility of sabotage?", said one of the commanders. Marian looked up sharply to the engineer with her piercing, pink eyes.

The engineer gulped, but continued steadfastly on. "We have found no indication of sabotage from the other races; we have not ruled it out, however."

Francis set his jaw. He wouldn't have put it past any of the other races in the Great Game to sabotage our chances at our invasion attempt. This malfunction has crippled us from launching a full-scale planetary invasion until a years' time.

Marian idly fingered the handle of her laz-sword. "What does this mean for the invasion plans?", she finally asked.

"Only one of the inhabited continents of the planet can be attempted to invade at this point, your highness."

Marian paused at this, then reached across the table to the holoprojecter controls. She typed in some commands, and a full-scale image of the planet in question appeared. They could see the two continents on display, one stretching from the north to the south and one stretching from the east to the west.

"Have the probes we sent out successfully reached the planet?", said Marian.

"Yes, they have, your highness. They are, as we speak, covertly assessing each of the continents for potential invasion. We have lost signal with a few, but that's to be expected due to the variables in the situation. Though, as long as they weren't damaged, they should be set to self-destruct should they be found out by the primitives."

Marian nodded in acknowledgement of the technician. "Very good. I want everyone to continue working around the clock repairing the damages and preparing for whichever invasion we attempt. Dismissed."

The officers all nodded in unison, then began to leave the room. Once they were all gone, Marian turned to Francis. "How did I do?", she said, waving her hand idly to the meeting room.

"Fine, though not exemplary.", said Francis, getting up from his own seat and limping to his niece. He relied heavily on his cane to get him from point a to point b these days. Once he was near enough to Marian that his slightly rheumy eyes could make a proper examination of her, he found himself somewhat jealous. Her blue skin, purple hair, and pink eyes were still brightly colored, unlike Francis' own aged, dull skin, hair, and eye tones.

Marian snorted at him. "Do you think the leader of Vermelhos would do any better?"

Francis chuckled to himself. "I don't want you to care as much about what the other races are doing in their invasion attempts. It would be more efficient to focus all your energy on subjugating this world."

Marian glared at him. "How am I supposed to focus on that, when more than half the fleet is damaged, some beyond repair."

"You will find a way. I have faith in you. You'll just have to... use the vanquished continent to help you in your endeavors. Once they will be properly subjugated to you, their resources will be open to you."

Marian mulled this over. "I'll have to trust your judgement in this situation, uncle.", she eventually begrudgingly complied.

Francis nodded approvingly, then they both turned to stare at the still present holo-image of the world they had set forth to conquer.