Into the Black

(Flag Bridge, BSN Ama-no-Murakumo-no-Tsurugi, Star’s Reach System)

“Admiral, we’ve received word from Black Star Station over Dimiya. Our local contacts have agreed to the evacuation request.”

“Good. Get the civilians on the transports as soon as possible. At the very least, get them up to the station, where the shields will keep demons and other threats out. Tell them to use Anchor Drives once they are out of sensor range from the system, to speed things up. Amazon System will be the rally point, and they can come to Star’s Reach from there.”

The officer nodded. “At once, Admiral. There’s also—”

I lost track of whatever he was about to say, because the next thing I knew, my world was full of pain. I’d had migraines before, and this was exactly like one of those. The best way to describe the pain was as if someone took a red-hot ice pick, and jabbed it repeatedly into my head, and doing that to relieve the pain of the migraine.

I staggered, and fell against the console with the sudden pain. I could dimly hear other screams. Other people. Probably also in pain. I barely noticed my breakfast coming back to grace the deck plates through the pain.

And then it was gone, and I found myself gasping for air, kneeling on the deck and slumped against the console I’d been working at. I decided not to look at the mess I knew was on the floor. It was enough that the pain was gone; I didn’t need the sights and smells of what I knew I’d find to set me off again.

“—miral! Admiral! Can you hear me?”

Raven was at my side, shaking my shoulders, trying to get my attention. Her voice was ringing. No, wait, that was my ears. Somehow, I managed to focus on her, past the blue patch in my field of view.

“R-raven. Hear you. What?”

Raven gave a sigh of relief. “We don’t know. I haven’t detected any transmissions, but something obviously happened, hitting every Nomad in Star’s Reach. I haven’t been able to get reports from anywhere else, yet, so I don’t know if it was limited to this system or not.”

Groaning, I forced myself to my feet. OK, so Raven helped. Well, she did most of the work, as my head was still spinning. At any rate, I was on my feet, which was the main thing.

Slowly, my eyes were able to focus enough that I could see that the blue patch in my vision was a blue box. A system alert. This was somehow part of the game? A little longer, and things came into focus enough that I could actually read what was written in the box.

Galactic Event!

Iefyrel, Lord of Perfection, has invaded the Dimiya system with the forces of Hellspace! Through profane science, he has also cut off Nomad communications, and shattered the fabric of reality as we know it!

For the duration of the event, in-game use of NERV forums or Nomad-to-Nomad messaging is blocked. These functions are still available while logged out of the game world, but will be processed at Real World speed (1 minute in the Real World : 4 minutes in the Game World). In addition, for the duration of the event, there will be a 1 hour Real World cooldown between logging out, and when you may log in.

Developer’s note:

We are aware of the pain response all Nomads experienced. This is part of the event. Pain application is below thresholds set in your user settings, and will cause no real-world physical symptoms.

I felt someone press a cup of water into my hand, and I drank eagerly, trying to get the taste of vomit out of my mouth. A deep breath, and then another. Looking up, I looked at the rest of the strategic command crew for the task group, and said, “Whatever is starting, it has already begun. Something has disrupted Nomad communications, probably galaxy-wide.”

“What are your orders, Admiral?”

“All ships, all groups, initiate immediate anchor jump. We’ll use Dimiya Attack Plan 4, and rendezvous at the target coordinates outside the system. Forces already in Dimiya ordered to defend their ground at all costs. Civilians are to shelter in Black Star Station. And double-time it on the evacuation of our allies’ families!”

“At once, Admiral!”

(Flag Deck, INS Triumphant, Neutral Zone between the Empire and the Confederacy)

Empress Merida smiled, despite everything going on. It felt good to be back on board her own ship, she had to admit. There was a simplicity, a clarity of purpose, when you were ‘just’ the captain of a starship, even a superdreadnought. As if being lord and commander responsible for thousands of souls was any small thing.

But she had been too long confined to the Aurum Throni, forced to remain on the throne, and circling Terra, ever since the end of the civil war, with only brief respites. She was no longer Captain, but Empress. That came with responsibilities that she could not simply ignore, to satisfy her own whims.

Of course, the reason she was here, and not at Terra, was simple. She had to be here. If she wasn’t, then everything would be for nothing. Terrors untold would break free and descend upon the universe without rest or respite, and life would become very bleak, indeed.

Which is part of the reason why her current position chafed at her. She was not going where she felt desperately that she needed to be. Instead, she was stuck here, waiting on the Imperial side of the neutral zone, as the diplomats tried to hammer out a deal for her ‘visit’. And the damn politicians were delaying her for their own petty games.

Even in the best of times, doing this so quickly would have been a nightmare. Too many egos, and too many people with wounded pride, on both sides, from the wars they’d fought. They would not simply allow her to take 1st Fleet into Confederate space on a whim.

Not as if they could stop her, should she choose to force the issue. Oh, sure, Dimiya was seventy light-years from the border. Fifty-one days if she kept her ships in FTL that whole time. Plenty of time for the Confederacy to intercept her and cut off her retreat, bringing her forces down with overwhelming numbers.

But her ships were Imperial Navy. Each one was equipped with the Transition Drives. Sure, use of the drives was relegated to emergencies only, after the events of the Sol Rift, and the opening engagements of the Ihm Desecrations, but they would allow her to get to Dimiya in only three ‘hops’. Getting to the Confederate capital would be easy for her ships, and the chances of the Confederacy getting anything in place to stop her before she got there was practically nil.

Still, she held off, for now. This was not the time for such things. Not yet. If she did that, she risked open war with the Confederacy, and that was a war that the weakened Empire was ill-prepared for. Worse, her visions were screaming at her that war would doom them all.

But almost certain war, with almost certain doom, was better than the certain doom that awaited if she did nothing. She would wait, and give the diplomats their chance, to give the Empire the best chance of survival possible. But if it came down to it? She would risk war to ensure the survival of the human race, without question.

“GAAAAAGH!”

She was shocked out of her reverie by the sound of her closest friend and advisor screaming, his hands clasped to his head as he fell to his knees. Forgetting all decorum, she rushed to her friend’s side, kneeling next to him. All the while focusing hard on her powers, keeping them clamped down, so that she did not accidentally make things worse by slamming her thoughts into his mind like a sledgehammer in her worry.

“Lucio! Lucio! LUCIO! What is it? Answer me!”

His only answer was to vomit on her gown, ruining it. She shut off her sense of smell with Psy (or, rather, sorcery), suppressing it as she’d learned to do during her pregnancy. It was a trick that had served her quite well after the twins were born, since there were few caregivers who were strong enough to withstand the mental pressure she and her children gave off, and the twins did not yet know how to suppress their auras, especially not when they needed changing.

She could change later. One of the cleaners would come in to deal with the vomit on the floor before long. But right now, her friend and confidant needed her.

“A-attack.”

Lucio managed to mumble a word. “Attack? Who is attacking? Is it everyone? Did they mean to get me instead?” Not an illogical assumption. She was the Empress, after all.

Slowly, he shook his head. “Nomads. All of them.” He breathed heavily, trying to focus despite the obvious pain. “Cut off from them. Something happening.” Another deep breath. “Dimiya. Dimiya! Under attack!”

Merida placed her hand on her friend’s forehead. “I understand. Rest, my friend. I will have the healers come and tend to you. Rest, and gather your strength. There is much more that we have to do.”

The Empress of the Terran Empire rose, and said to those officers on the deck, “Hear me, my people! Death and danger prophesized has come to the universe! Dimiya burns with the wrath of the unholy, and a storm that threatens all existence is in motion! All ships, prepare for transition! The time for talking is over! The time for action is now!”

(Primary Command Center, True Master, Primary Tomb Complex, Simustran Tomb World)

Simusret the Slayer sat upon his command throne abord his flagship, the True Master. The massive ship was as ancient as he was, but the stasis fields had held up over the countless ages that they had been asleep. Not all his ships, or warriors, had been so fortunate, but that was of little concern. Any damage done was easily repaired. None of the fields had failed badly enough to allow outside forces to interfere with their workings, after all.

An alert buzzed, and he accessed the datastream. It was from one of the probes that had been sent to assess the possible dangers from the local primitives, and look for sites to begin his reconquest of his former domain. A rift into the Enemy’s Domain had formed, and a massive psychic pulse had issued from one of the planets. A pulse that had transmitted itself faster than light, appearing at many places throughout the drone’s sensor range, without the time for a psychic wavefront to make the journey.

More alerts, from other probes, in other systems. They had detected the pulse, too, at interstellar distances, with no appreciable time delay. Such a thing was impossible, given the knowledge of the Old Empire. Therefore, it must be something new.

He was right to send the probes, despite the chance that any of the primitives surrounding his tomb world were strong enough to challenge him being small enough to be barely worth mentioning. But new technology meant that the old knowledge was flawed. He would need to acquire this technology, and study it, so that the reconquest could begin in earnest.

With a mental command, ancient doors opened on the surface of the ruined world. Another command, and his fleet began to prepare for launch. It was time for the Simustran Dynasty to go to war once again.

(Command Deck, Vengeful Spirit, Hellspace)

The Warmaster of Chaos, Abaddon Horusson, staggered as the wave of pain hit him like a closed fist. He could tell the pain was deadened by hellspace, and the psychic shields that surrounded his ship, but that meant it only felt like someone had punched him between the eyes, rather than stabbing him. Small favors.

He dismissed the blue box. This was outside of his projections. Someone else was bringing weapons to the table, of which he had no idea. Regardless, he wasn’t worried. That would just draw more people in for the attack, on both sides.

That was a boon for him.

If the forces of Chaos won, he could turn the victory to his advantage, though it would slow his long-term plans. If they lost, well, some of his rivals would undoubtedly fall, and he couldn’t be sure that he might not take out some of those interesting ones he’d kept alive, even when they should have died. So, having more eyes on the system just meant that he could possibly rid himself of more enemies and ‘allies’ without anyone being the wiser, if things worked as he hoped.

Either way, it was now the time for Chaos to shine.