FIMBULVETR
STARDATE 01.05.25
High Captain Edda stared out at the stars from the view port in his quarters. His stance was rigid, both arms were crossed, and his stern expression was chiseled out of stone. He was an imposing, massive figure, standing eight feet tall, and that was when he was calm and not in a combative state of mood. Glowing white runes were etched into his dark blue skin, similar to tattoos, but not as superficial. His long, orange hair was accented with intermittent flames, the kind that came into being, danced with pleasure, sadness, and anger, and then mysteriously disappeared in a heartbeat. His golden eyes were of the same color, and they too stored fiery power within them.
After the First Invasion was repelled, not without great cost, the Home Sector assumed they were free to rebuild. And rebuild they did, focusing more on economics than war, with intense trading even escalating to vitriolic levels. X-Technology advanced, even to the point where brand new ships were constructed from whole cloth, rather than upgrading existing starships. It was a time of peace, prosperity, growth, and hope.
No one suspected that the First Invasion was only the beginning. A massive force, much larger than the initial spearhead, was lurking out in deep space, far beyond the edges of the galaxy. Upon discovering what happened to their initial advance force, they redirected their primary armada to our Home Sector. We were taken completely by surprise. These new warships were different from their predecessors, utilizing deadly weaponry and technology the likes of which we had never encountered before. Planets fell, whole fleets were destroyed, entire populations vanished, and empires were crushed. The Home Sector fell like wheat before the scythe.
High Captain Edda gritted his teeth. Anger swelled up within him. Flaming sparks leapt from his eyes. Scientists confirmed long ago that there was a parallel dimension similar to the Home Sector where historical events took a similar but different path. How he wished he was there instead of here.
The remaining survivors found their way to this place, their future home and final stronghold. It was a starbase as large as a planet, a place that would come to be known to everyone as Planetbase. No one understood how Planetbase was constructed or by whom, but there was evidence of a highly advanced civilization everywhere. What happened to them is anyone’s guess. Planetbase sits in a strange cloud that naturally hides its existence from those who hunt them.
More survivors arrived on Planetbase from the Other Sector that neighbors our own. They too were devastated by the punishing armada that returned to our systems. Similar tales were recounted, old hatreds were set aside, and simple survival became the main concern for all. Curiously, utilizing ancient technology reaped from Planetbase, we were able to share technology with one another on a scale we never imagined possible. Sadly, we all lost the ability to field X-Starships.
Is there any hope for those of us who remain? We are all that is left of our once great, galaxy spanning empires. Mere fragments of what used to be. How can we possibly regain what was lost? How can we return to what we were? Perhaps, instead, we have to metamorphosize into something…else.
We called our combined forces on Planetbase: Unity. Our old empires are all gone. Now, each of us belongs to Unity.
And what of those who hunt us? Those who will not stop until every last one of us has been destroyed. Those intergalactic conquerors who seem to harbor an intense need for revenge because of what we did to their First Forces. Those who seem as unstoppable as a god-like tsunami rising high above mere mortals who dwell on land.
THE NEO-INVADERS.
