Humans are insignificant when confronted with the Universe. The myriad collection of celestial objects renders human existence, their actions, thoughts, and very life and death, comparatively, meaningless. The vast emptiness of space dwarfs these faint flickers of light, reducing humanity to momentary spasms of dust. The only way to leave a mark is through sacrifice: slowly carving away at your very flesh and bone to stain the ground perennially red. But what if you could defy this black shroud – pierce through the darkness, more so, overcome and twist it into a blinding iridescent white? How much blood would need to be spilt? How much pain would need to be endured? To forge a will capable of bringing space to its knees: not with any power granted but one born of self-reliance, claimed from within, sourced from a human, weak and insignificant as they may be.
///
Space is eerily quiet, like the gaping black maw of some horrid giant or ancient predator stiffly stalking its prey. A singular ship pierces through the veil, silently gliding to its destination. In front, a black planet seems to melt into the emptiness of an unnaturally frozen place. The space constants are so heavily distorted that it appears to phase in and out of materiality with animated stillness.
Whether by accident or design, this place has mutated into a ghost among the stars. A frigid specter drifting aimlessly through the vast expanse – invisible to any but the most lucky or unlucky travelers who stumbled upon it by accident.
The vessel began its descent—shuttling through the bleak grey skies—to the surface. It was rectangular in shape with slightly curved, tapered edges. Two twin engines roared steadily, spewing vibrant blue flames into the air. Heavy armor panels intersected, forming a chaotic mosaic similar to bricks in a wall. An orange metallic glow shined through the gaps, illuminating the dark clouds while the hangar bay doors begin to inch open.
The surface below was dreary, bearing the deep scars of a war. Obsidian rock twisted into jagged peaks and endless plains. Craters and fissures mottled the landscape, the rock beneath molten in black glass or pulverized into dust, whisked away by the ferocity of the impact. As far as the eye could see, the remnants of a great battlefield lay strewn in pieces—forgotten by both the victor and the defeated.
Most of the metal carcasses were matte black cuts bearing subtle gunmetal grey undertones. Occasionally, a flurry of sparks cascaded down or a band of dark green energy pulsed—lighter filaments swirling in geometric patterns in its wake. The husks were ships of all sizes—some military, some not—as well as facilities and infrastructure of all kinds. This was the site of a massacre, but not one suffered by cowling in fear.
No. The planet bore witness to a battle waged by warriors doomed and ready to die but determined to exact their spite. A battle waged to drag down the enemy and to leave them with nothing. A struggle – one of incalculably many – between the Coalition and the Human Empire.
A place undisturbed for centuries, only to be discovered by the most intrepid of … scavengers.
Moira was brought back from her daydreaming by the somewhat unsatisfactory end to her dramatic inner monologue. She grumbled wordlessly, slightly irked by the realities of her station, before quickly pushing those thoughts aside as she steadied her gaze. She was the captain of a modest scavenger group that had happened upon the desolate world by chance while on a routine mission.
She leaned forward, both hands firmly clasping the railings as she observed and directed her crew from an elevated deck. The faint pneumatic hiss of a door sliding open alerted her to someone’s arrival. A gaunt-looking man stepped through the doorway. He was vaguely humanoid with pale blue skin and sporting four exaggerated, lanky yet muscular limbs adorned with extremely dexterous hands.
He was her second in command and the most proficient fighter on board.
She spoke without turning her back. “Is everything in order?”
He wordlessly acquiesced, offering only a brief nod.
“Good,” she added, continuing in a louder voice, “Begin the scouting mission.” The second part of her orders was no longer addressed to the man but to the crew members manning the control center below.
The ship slowed before fully halting its descent, the hull on both sides slid open, revealing a hangar filled with small interceptors. Several squadrons flew out, dispersing in various directions with a singular goal in mind:
To search for any intact human technology.
Further away, on the far side of the planet, stood a circle of mountainous peaks casting long shadows into the valley from the perpetual soft light emitted from the artificial cloud cover. Nestled into that valley were the ruins of a research facility mangled by the aftermath of some unimaginable blow. The insides were shrouded in darkness as debris, fuel, and experiment remnants cluttered the halls.
The base consisted of underground floors, most of which had been forcibly excavated and cracked open like an egg by sheer force. Only the basement remained intact, filled with endless bays whose doors now lay open, empty and void in the darkness. However, one bay remained - sealed - emitting a faint green light as an indicator displayed characters in a faint white light. In a forgotten tongue, they denote a forgotten thing. Translated, they would read: ‘Experiment MX3 – 117 Ongoing’
The sign, which had persisted for so long, finally faded into the black. The doors hissed open, smoke billowing in their wake—the hatch slowly receding to reveal … nothing. All there was more empty darkness, and in that darkness, two crimson eyes opened, unsure of what was to come.
