2795 AD – Messier-83 Galaxy

The sun had set over the horizon, long shadows cast over the various structures that dotted the terraces, metal plating clearly visible in the dying artificial light. With a shudder, something sprang to life. Many men and women wandered about, not worrying about their days until that fated day that they would come to face another ship, another Fortress. Shops were opening, many preferring to sleep during the day-cycle, and work during the night-cycle. The previous four months had been spent like this, the citizens barely aging due to the manipulation of their genetic clock. Their uniforms shone blue and red in the light of the street lamps, some areas of the various terraces preferring to model themselves after ancient time periods, from an ancient Earth pub, to a stone-built tavern, with matching clothing and everything. For many, it was home. For all, it was the Kepler, a forty-year-old Battle Fortress, one of the original Wyvern-class design variants, for offensive capabilities that other Fortresses did not have.

Her main deck consisted of the colony, the main way such Battle Fortresses would even remain, lest they get picked apart by scavengers wanting to make a quick credit or two on the galactic market with War Games schematics. Her crew made their rounds, finding activities to occupy themselves whilst waiting for the ever exciting call, 'General Quarters.' While to a man of the military it might mean something different, to a member of a Battle Fortress, it meant that the monotony of day-to-day life was about to be broken.

Elevators dotted her main deck, leading to the engineering, bridge, and the battle control suites. When a battle commenced betwixt two Fortresses for either rights to a certain asteroid mine, or for the absolute dominance of a single planet, for the entertainment of humanity, it would be broadcast live. Cameras on the Kepler broadcast day and night, their ever-present signals detailing out their daily lives, and the battalion leaders who would commence the attack, if one such opportunity ever presented itself. On the bridge, emotions were not so joyful.

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“What do you mean, we're off-course?! How can we be off-course?!” The commander of the Kepler, an older, rotund sort of man with greying hair and piercing blue eyes, stared down his navigator, a Sentient Integrated Program android, or SIP for short.

“I am deeply apologetic, commander. I was not aware until I checked the calculations one more time. We are coming across a fresh planet, untouched by humanity. Possibly brimming with selenium to strip mine.” The commander stared intently at the SIP, his eyes closing to slits in thought. From a nearby console, a loud beeping occurred. The SIP navigator looked down, its eyes quickly darting from one display to the next, information processing at several million times the speed that a human mind could calculate.

“What is it? What's wrong?” The SIP looked up, an emotion displaying across its flesh-metal features that very few SIPs had activated. It was scared.

“Commander, within eleven galactic day-cycles, we will reach our destination at designation P3X-292. Unfortunately, the Titan-class Fortress, Dawnbreaker, is also on course, and will arrive as we do. I recommend an immediate sounding of General Quarters, and for the Kepler to shift into offensive mode the minute we exit from void-space.” The SIP navigator returned to its station, leaving the commander to contemplate the recommendation of his navigator. He stood, turning to the bridge elevators. His second in command, a rather robust man of Russian descent, stood there, deep in contemplation.

“Commander, I would think we should wait around six of those cycles to run drills to keep every member of the crew on their toes. Also, a lot of the Battle Control suite is still being re-calibrated. Let the engineers know of our timetable, right?” The commander held his head in his hands, still preferring to remain silent. The bridge of the Kepler was eerily quiet after the SIP's statement, every officer concerned over the continued survival of the Kepler. With a start, the commander stood, his hand out, fingers spread.

“Set up the drills as necessary. Unit 3, as you were. Prepare the Battle Control Suites. I will have a chat with our head scientist.” With that, the commander turned to leave, entering the bridge elevator as it sprang into life.

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The cloning labs and research centre was a sight to behold. Tubes for the quick-grown clones covered two floors, the third being reserved for the computer equipment necessary to keeping the technology functioning properly. Wires snaked out from the tubes, their ends connecting to various holographic readouts, displaying current status, abnormalities, and the genetic candidate they were cloned from. The head scientist snored in her chair, her head leaned all the way back as she slumbered. As the commander entered, she tumbled backwards out of her chair, coming to a landing in front of him. Eyes shooting open, she sheepishly smiled at him.

“Is there anything you wanted, sir?” The commander held out his hand, lifting the head scientist to her feet. He slowly stepped towards the nearest clone-tube, his hand pressing various holographic keys to initiate a diagnostic.

“Just wanted to know the status of the labs; how they're holding up, anything needing repair, you know, the mundane, mandatory items.” The display flashed green, indicating it was ready for the input of genetic material. Returning his sight to the scientist, he motioned to the tubes. “Will they be ready for the battle?” The scientist nodded, a Personal Data Assistant flashing red in her hand. As she read the message, her face drained of all colour. The commander, sensing something was amiss, snatched it from her slack grip. It was a threat, of some sort. Why it was sent to the cloning labs was beyond him.

“Sir, is that-”

“Someone is planning on attacking us while we are in the match. While I'm not surprised, the fact-” Another message popped up on the PDA, from the War Games Committee, for some bizarre reason. “'Due to allegations that you are utilizing Neuro-atomizer weapons, this next battle will be your last. Your communications have been disabled. Prove us wrong.'” And with that, the PDA went dark. The scientist looked at the commander, worry in her face.

“Sir? What does that mean?” The commander turned to her, fear in his eyes.

“It means that the Committee has deemed us too successful to be in the Games. It happened to the Halcyon, the Osiris, even the Nirrti. All of them destroyed before their time, pretty much. I believe the Nirrti was the oldest, at around 70 years old.” He hurled the PDA at the nearest wall, watching it shatter into shards.

“Sir?”

“Alert the staff. Something is going to happen, and we need Clone Guards up and about soon.” He turned to the still-shocked scientist. “Go now!” The scientist scrambled for the console, the blue screen lighting up with various figures and numbers, attempting to find the correct genome. Several flew past, until the proper selection appeared. With a quick flash of her fingers, the tubes all began to fill, growth acceleration gel, or GAG for short. Cells divided, limbs, organs, bones and skin formed, faster and faster as it continued. Within fourteen seconds, twelve fully-developed soldiers, each without hair or pupils, stepped from their tubes. They lined up, saluting, then standing ramrod stiff. With a nod, the commander turned to leave, the clones marching off to the manufacturing complex for armour and weapons.

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In engineering, the chief engineer, a heavy-set Scottish fellow, quite portly and bald, was shouting obscenities at his staff. Wires sparked, bolts were refastened, and the engineering computer was brought up to speed with a software upgrade. The commander, stepping out from the elevator, stared as engineers scurried from one side to the other, machines that were dormant being returned to active status. The commander, sighing, shook his head at the furious pace at which the engineers worked. The chief engineer turned to face him.

“Aye! Commander, 'tis a good time ya showed up! We're wrapping up the wee things now, but we should have our main factories up 'n runnin' for the battle. What? Ya think ya can keep somethin' that big out of me paperwork? Yer dead wrong!” The chief engineer bellowed with laughter, the sound echoing various times throughout the pipes, alcoves, and glass windows.

“Good. I will hazard a guess that you know the situation?” The chief engineer nodded.

“Titan-class. Gon' assume that it's the Dawnbreaker. Powerful bugger. They'll right shake us apart if we give 'em a chance. But still! Neuro-atomizer Rays? What kinda blighters do the Committee take us fer?” The commander rubbed his chin, staring up at the clanging pipes, hissing valves, and the generator far above, a seventh-generation Quantum Reactor, designed to rip apart space-time to generate power.

“You're actually right on the dot this time, chief.” He walked to the edge, where a railing prevented one from falling to their deaths on a manufacturing conveyor belt. “But those factories had better be running, or I'll have you committed, you lunatic.” With that comment, the chief engineer bellowed once more, his hearty laugh bringing a smile to the faces of the other engineers.

“Aye! There's the ticket! They'll be up 'n runnin' 'fore the battle!” With another round of cursing and swearing, the chief engineer returned to work, leaving the commander to his own devices. His wrist beeped, an important communique coming through.

“Commander? Oh, finally! I've been trying to reach you for the past twenty minutes!” His science officer, a young woman with a shaved head, spoke, her face just barely visible on the wrist-communicator's screen.

“All right. What's the situation?” She turned, her hand pointing at various systems. They were blinking, which was never good at all. Some were not even online.

“Our internal defenses are offline! We won't be able to repel boarders if they decide to attack while we engage their army! Worse still, the Clone Guards are frozen, unable to respond! It is almost as if someone, or something - if you remember the aliens – gained control of their neural interface with the computer! I can have them melted quickly, but we won't have guards.” The commander sighed. He had read the reports from the Nirrti. The exact same thing had happened. The last vital system to shut down was the quantum reactor, the life support so integrated into the power grid that once it shut down, backups failed, and the crew choked to death, unable to even speak their last words.

“All right. I'm returning to the bridge. I'll bring the chief up and see if he can make sense of this.” The commander returned to the chief engineer, who was busy himself tightening down the bolts of a boiler with a pneumatic ratchet.

“Ah! Commander! What's the issue-” The look on the commander's face compelled the chief engineer to quiet himself. Whatever had happened left the captain angry, and very, very hard to look at directly. He shuffled nervously, unable to bring his eyes to the captain's out of fear.

“Someone has hacked into our computer systems. The internal defences, along with our Clone Guards, are inoperative. Chief, do you understand what I mean?” The chief placed his hand on his chin, rubbing it thoughtfully. Something like that had happened, at least to another ship, but for someone to do so... it was nigh unthinkable. Not only did it mean expulsion from the Games if caught, but one would also be executed if that, instead of a power failure or loss of too many battles, caused a Battle Fortress to lose lives. Very few would be willing to go to such lengths... he would have to look into it.

“Sir, let me check it out. I'm sure ta turn up valuable info that'll be worth a lot to ya.” The commander nodded, nothing more needing to be said at that time. With a quick turn, he returned to the elevator, his face turning more and more into an angry scowl. Enemy commanders with absolutely horrendous tactics, he could deal with that. Clones of the battleforce commanders that refused to follow orders, that was easy as well. Hackers, though, were another matter entirely. One could not simply discover a hacker. A hacker had to reveal themselves and make a mistake, allowing themselves to be caught.

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The commander stepped out of the lift, his angry scowl returning to more of an irritated frown. His science officer nodded at him, her fingers flying over various keys and buttons. His second in command nodded, also returning to his duties with silence. The only being on the bridge not fully understanding was Unit 3, his processors unable to determine the unsaid words flying between the humans on the bridge.

“Commander, I do not understand what is happening. Why is there no speech, yet recognition of words? What is unspoken?” The commander did not respond, but merely clenched and unclenched his fist every few seconds. Unit 3 stared until his processors picked up new information. The science officer was waving him over. With a nod, he hurried over, long strides placing him quickly in front of her.

“Unit 3, we've been hacked. You're safe since you're attached to the ship's artificial intelligence unit. I need you to copy the AI into your processors. I know it's beyond your scope to understand why, but we might have a lot of trouble coming soon. I can feel it.” She rubbed the end of the pistol that was strapped against her thigh, her face tightening into an indiscernible emotion. She stared off in a random direction, not entirely caring where her gaze ended. Unit 3 took that as the cue to be quiet and returned to his station. His processors began running the download that the science officer asked of him, his eyes blinking to various colours as it ran.

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Seven days. The commander stared at his wall. Seven days they had been running drills. He drew a seventh line next to the other forty-years worth of lines with the new section he had started for the final battle. Fitting that he should use a red permanent marker instead of the black one.

“Seven days. Seven days we've been practicing. Four more days left...” He sighed. Tensions were beginning to run high on the crew. While he had, after that first day, specifically stated that no one aboard was to know about the hacker, someone leaked the information to the rest of the crew, and he had to spend three of the last six defusing arguments and imprisoning quarreling crew members. Sighing once more, he laid down, staring up at the ceiling. The lines extended everywhere, even on his desk where they had started. Back when he was a strapping young commander in his chronological twenties. He would look about seventy-five if he had not had a Rejuvenation treatment, designed to slow biological aging. A beeping at the door to his quarters brought him back to reality. “Come in.” Unit 3 entered, saluting before closing the door.

“Commander, the crew is becoming very anxious. Someone has told them about what the Committee decided for us. Some wish to attack the Dawnbreaker while we fight. I attempted to explain that we need them to defend our ship in the absence of the Clone Guards, but they did not acknowledge my statement.” The commander stood, straightening his uniform.

“All right. Let's get to the bridge. It's time I spoke to everyone for the first time in fifteen years.” Unit 3 nodded, moving to the side to allow the commander through. It scanned the room, counting the lines. It acknowledged the amount of lines and their significance, archiving the data for later.

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On the bridge, the situation was no less tense. The second-in-command had begun shouting at the science officer, accusing her of every allegation he could muster. When the commander stomped in, he did not even notice until his arm was grabbed, and he was slammed to the ground.

“I will not have my crew members antagonizing one another! We are tense enough as it is! Do I make myself clear, Number Two?!” Two nodded, his face an angry scowl. He dared not speak, lest the commander make his own emotional state a permanent imprint on his face. He turned to the bridge. “We have four days until we exit voidspace and enter orbit around the planet. I want you all to begin the preparations to shift into offensive mode as we exit. We cannot take any chances, not with the Dawnbreaker. I need every single one of you to be ready for anything. With such a large compliment, and the massive amount of schematics they hold in their database, we have to win! If we defeat them, we could finally elevate ourselves above the grinders who come in almost every day!” With that, the bridge cheered. He raised his hand, frowning.

“Sir?”

“Open ship-wide communications. Those should still be running.” An audible beep alerted him that he was now being broadcast to every member of the crew.

“You're live, commander.” The commander nodded, his face tightening.

“Forty years. That's how long we've been at this. I know you have all heard that the Committee has decided that we should no longer be in the games. For your sakes, this information is true.” Although he could not hear it, he could feel the murmuring of shock and pain amongst the crew. “Will we give up? I sincerely hope not. Though we may not see many more battles, or even one more, I will not sit idly by while my crew is slaughtered by pirates, scavengers, and murderers! We will stand together, and if it must be, we will die together! We are the crew of the Kepler! Never give up! Never surrender!” With that, cheering could be heard throughout the corridors, moods slightly uplifted from the dreariness of anxiety. The commander stepped back from the personal address system, sighing. Two nodded up at him.

“Whatever you must do, sir, go do it. We'll be ready when the time comes.” The commander silently nodded, leaving the bridge to oversee the main deck.

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Shells clattered against the ground as soldiers fired at targets, pulse rifles, automatics, and bolt-action weapons pounding away at the concrete targets. Magazines clicked as quickly as ammunition was spent. Some were firing off automatics, while others fed their weapons shell by shell, buckshot and slugs. The commander stood at the end, a single revolver laying within reach. With a swift motion, he lifted it, brought it to eye level, and aimed, squeezing off a shot that hit the target dead center. With another swift motion, he brought the revolver back down onto the table, leaving without a word. The troopers preparing stopped to stare wide-eyed at their commander taking such a precise shot. The commander moved to a large seating area behind the troopers, sitting carefully in one of the many benches. The sergeant in charge of the training placed himself beside the commander, sighing.

“Some of them have never even held a weapon before. It'll be a miracle if we survive a direct assault by whatever the Dawnbreaker throws at us.” He leaned back, the seat he reclined in squeaking in protest. Two of the troopers training set their weapons down, stomping off when they could not hit the target.

“I see what you mean. I think they believe they're entitled to victory.” The commander stood, shaking his head in exasperation.

“Commander, I hope, in all honesty, that these troopers get their act together, and concentrate on protecting what's important, not winning a battle or a match, but making sure we can continue to survive.” The commander nodded in agreement with the sergeant, leaving for the main residential district.

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Even though troopers were practicing, and the engineers had their hands full making certain that the factories were producing at a top-notch speed, the residential area was still bustling. Every person went about their business, stopping off at one of the many dine-in shops around. One, in particular, interested the commander: a small Indian restaurant nestled between two bookstores. As he approached, someone bumped into him from behind. He turned around to come face to face with his science officer. She was grinning ear-to-ear, holding the commander's ID card.

“I can still pull one over on you. You're going in? Let's talk.” In silence, they both entered the restaurant, seating themselves nearest one of the walls.

“All right, shoot. What did you want to talk about?” The science officer blushed, looking away as she stammered.

“U-us, c-commander.”

“There's nothing to talk about in that regard. I am the commander of the Kepler, and you're her science officer. There are other fish in the see.” He leaned in closer, lowering his voice. “I also don't have anything in that regard. Down there? Cybernetics. Lost the entire thing in a plasma field burst.”

“Doesn't it hurt to know that you, well, don't have one of the most important parts of your body?” The commander shook his head.

“I can focus on my duties. That's all I care about. And this conversation, over. I don't care what you want to say, but if it is anything that does not directly deal with the safety of this ship, and her crew, then do not waste my time.” The commander stood, leaving the science officer. If he had turned, he would have noticed the malicious grin on her face. The grin... of a traitor.

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Four days, ten thousand rounds of ammunition, and sixteen successful manufacturing tasks later, the planet came into view. A spinning, beautiful orb, barely any signs that they had even been detected exiting void-space. As they stared at the orb, the commander sighed. He was nervous, and he knew the entire crew felt the same way about the upcoming battle. Every single member was prepared with the knowledge that they might not survive. Candidates had moved safely to the cloning labs, their generics, basic clones capable of only what was programmed into them, being generated while they prepped their respective equipment. While the databanks of the Kepler were not in any way robust, they did their job well. Mechanized battle-suits, tanks, jeeps, powered armour, suborbital fighters, the list went on. As the clones lined up inside the drop bay where many a man-cannon, a modified magnetic accelerator cannon designed to fire cushioned drop pods directly onto the battlefield, the preferred method of delivery of generics, while troop transports stood by to take down Clone Avatars, the direct copies of candidates, down to the battlefield. Vehicles rolled into their respective bays, loading up into massive dropships, the only transports powerful enough to carry the Mark V Battle Tank. On the Engineering deck, everything was go.

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“Fire in the cloning labs! Repair team to the labs!” In the cloning labs, it was not... exactly the same. Three of the tubes, due to wear and tear, had shut down, heat-sinks melting down and causing fires from the excessive amount of heat that was being produced. Repair teams scurried around, spraying fire-suppressant foam all over the deck, keeping the damage to a minimum. The chief scientist sighed, grabbing a notepad and making her way to the Neural Link Amplifier, the very centre of all ground-based clone operations. Three candidates were already inside, their minds linking to the control modules inside the brains of their respective Avatars. Their vitals were stable, no damage detected.

“Good, perhaps we can avoid unnecessary hospital time this battle.” With a ship-wide alarm, all personnel braced themselves. The Dawnbreaker had arrived, signaling their arrival with a full broadside of their main guns, the archaic field projectors of the Kepler barely protecting her hull. With shouts across the ship, the generics made their way to the man-cannons, while the transports and dropships prepared for atmospheric re-entry, making the calculations for the inevitable orbital drift.

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On the planet, however, life was more peaceful than on the ships far above the surface. The day was peaceful as always, the creatures with four legs trotting around, wishing each other a fantastic morning. Market stalls opened, filling out with various creatures of all shapes and sizes, some dealing out provisions to wearied travelers for a pretty penny, while others would offer varying services, from tailors, to identification services for various items, to the simple service of fortune-telling. Two venerable sisters stood above the crowd, a celebration of sorts taking place as labourers bustled to and fro.

“Dear sister, dost thou not seeth the plight of this fair hamlet? Thou must surely have seeneth the strange signs in the sky.” The one sister, a coat as dark as night, her mane seemingly filled with stars, watched the various species bustling to and fro as her sister, older, but not much wiser, concerned herself with the parchments in front of her, a quill writing everything she wished to have delivered to the hamlet's main square, where all manner of business happened.

“Luna, while your nattering does tend to get on my nerves, I will overlook it, for today, we celebrate one hundred years since the defeat of the Lord of Chaos, Discord himself. We are here for our subjects, not for our personal benefit, and-” A large clanging sound could be heard as something entered the air far above them. “What was that sound?” In the sky above, massive pylons bristling with devices of unknown intent began their descent towards the ground, many impacting farther from the hamlet, the resulting shockwave from each impact radiating outwards, increasing in power as they rapidly slammed into their positions in the ground, a strange, pulsating wall generated between every two that dropped, as if they were connected. Creatures began to notice the pylons falling, the tension rising as they realized just what the shockwave would do to their hamlet. Minotaurs, equines, griffons, zebras, every creature under their sun, every single one of them began to panic. Luna, the princess darkest in colour, simply stood still, her mouth agape at the travesty occurring before her. Her sister, the elder one, dropped everything she was currently holding in a telekinetic grip, her subjects staring up at her, as if for guidance. Luna nodded as her sister looked to her for help. With a twin flash of light, a portal to another area of their world was unveiled before their eyes, panicked citizens immediately bowing and delving through to safety.

“Sister, we must leave! If we do not, we shall perish along with this hamlet!” Leaping forth from the stage they had found themselves on, they were transported through the portal, leaving none behind... or so they thought. As the portal closed, a single, hapless soul stared up into the sky as the final pylon fell from the sky. A smile of the most wretched insanity crossed his countenance, as his voiced reached no creature in particular.

“You must construct additional pylo-.” Before his phrase was finished, he met his end as the pylon forced itself into the earth, burrowing deep as the final barriers of energy were erected.

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Far above, the Kepler was in a heated contest of power, various bolts of energy dancing across the field projectors. With a forced push, a single rod was dropped, a beacon for the transports and the dropships, as well as the man-cannons. As it slammed into the ground, the crews of both fortresses witnessed as the terrain within the massive forest the pylons had sunk into was almost instantaneously transformed into a wasteland, a perfect battleground for the final flight of the Kepler. As the rod deployed, six structures descended from each fortress, a command hub, two infantry production modules, a vehicle module, a research module, and an experimental module. They deployed in their respective positions as the Clone Avatars reported in.

“This is callsign Red Fist. Reporting in.”

“Call sign, Blue Falcon. Reporting.”

“Call sign, Green Hornet. Sir!” With all three Avatars in sync, the battle was ready to commence. Elsewhere on the ship, boots tramped over every deck, troopers at every entry point, every vent, and every elevator. Rifles aimed as safeties clicked off, rumbling was heard as the various munitions danced over the energy fields. Breathing was quick, shallow, and very quiet as they steeled themselves for the awaited boarding parties.

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The transports left the Kepler as her main guns returned fire, rail cannons futilely attempting to breach heavy field projections. Drones were launched, protecting their transports as well as assaulting the enemy's, attempting to prevent a flow of reinforcements. In the command nexus of the cloning labs, candidates not connected to the NLA were commanding from holographic interfaces, their specific companies and battalions marching out onto the field with their specific weapons, from heavy, particle-based weaponry, to light laser repeaters. Clones massed in their areas with the command networks embedded into their skulls.

“Red Fist reporting in. Looks like Drop was a success. Proceeding with capture of Resource Node Alpha.” The commander entered the command nexus, witnessing the various forces entering the theatre of war. He retrieved the radio from the wall, patching it into a headset he snatched from a communications technician.

“Good job, RF-Actual. Be careful. We don't know what the Dawnbreaker is fielding.” He sighed, mentally crossing his fingers. Resource Node Alpha was always the first on any battlefield to be taken. While small arms and armour could be printed from massive devices in the manufacturing nexus, selenium was required for anything larger than a suit of powered armour. Blue Falcon was on task, placing down defense beacons for the automated turrets that would eventually be set down. Clones took defensive posture, the boulders nearest the command module providing basic cover, but not nearly enough to prevent a catastrophic overwhelming if the enemy were to bombard with any artillery at all.

“Blue Falcon here. Defense beacons online and awaiting drop.” The structure drop interface activated in front of the commander, prompting him to decide which he wanted to send out. He had several options. If they decided to forgo armour and rush him with wave after wave of generics, he could simply construct Gatling Lasers to chew through them. Anti-armour was needed? Throw down a simple Rail Cannon or two. Aircraft becoming a right nuisance? Swarm Launchers were always a blessing. Then there were the Plasma Defenders, the heaviest turret in the Kepler's arsenal, and rightly so; it was for destroying the costly experimental units that one would send down to obliterate an enemy's base structures. Lose the base, lose the battle.

“Green Hornet checking in. Sir, should I conduct a recon assessment and reveal their early troop deployment, or should I hold back and keep an eye out for any clones that get the smart idea to flank us?” The commander frowned. He knew this would not be an easy battle, especially if he sent out his scout Avatar. On one hand, he would know their troop deployments, and possible defenses. The downside of that was they would probably detect the Scout Avatar, and eliminate him immediately. On the other hand, he could have the scout hang back- Blue Falcon was decent at her job. She could handle the defense of the base if need be.

“GH-Actual, I want you to scout the enemy base. Find any place you can where they might not detect you. Use everything you can to get that satellite data for us. We're flying blind until we know exactly what we are up against.” Another button press, and the vehicle module activated, the light beside it blinking to alert that it was online. Basic Mechanized Suits and Tanks were available, pending any research from the appropriate module.

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On the ground, such things were not so simple. Red Fist was planting a minefield near Node Alpha, preparing for an enemy assault.

“Resource Node Gamma is under the Dawnbreaker's control.” He cursed himself under his breath. They were sneaky, he had to give them that, but Gamma? Alpha provided the largest resource flow, allowing for more options in a battle. Glancing at his wrist, he gawked at just how large the flow was on that particular planet.

“Commander, something about this planet is incredibly odd. Node Alpha is producing at a rate around fifty percent higher than any other world we have encountered! I hope this is figured out soon. I do not want to get the equivalent of a verbal lashing from the Committee if we win.” He sighed, staring at the ground. While he was the engineer of the group, his specialty was offensive applications, mainly traps, such as the minefield he had laid out. Blue was more defensive, while Green was simply a forward scout. He chuckled. Green tended to lose five or six Avatars a battle, but that was low for a Scout Avatar. The usual average for Scout-types was around twenty or thirty.

“RF-Actual, your concern is noted. Exercise extreme caution. We do not know exactly what they are fielding, but whatever it is, it cannot be good.” The radio clicked off, leaving Red leaning against the node, watching as the capture mark slid over to the red, the arbitrary colour given to the Kepler almost every single match.

“'Your concern is noted,' my ass! I'm probably going to lose an Avatar this time, and Green's probably going to hit every single shot! Who knows?! Maybe the moron will hit a tank's fuel reserves and detonate it!”

“Red, your radio's still on.”

“Oh shut up, Blue.” The radio clicked on, meaning Green was listening in.

“I do have the lowest average for being a Scout, Red. Think about that.” Red grumbled, clicking his radio off. As an after-thought, he turned it back on, voicing his grievances with Green.

“Stupid 'Wonder Boy.' I hope he chokes on brass this time.” Blue's voice came through his radio again, although this time he was expecting it.

“Your radio-”

“Yeah, it's still on, and you know what? This time it was intentional. I hope you heard, Green.” Red whistled as he lifted his rifle to his shoulder. The telescopic scope zoomed in, identifying various troops. “What the... Green, do you copy?”

“What is it, asshole?” Red gritted his teeth. He hated when Green decided to be a jerk and stop being the laid-back Scout that Red was used to.

“First, don't ever call me that. Only Blue can call me that. Second, do you have a positive ID on those enemy forces? I've got some incoming on my position, but I can't ID them without help from your friendly neighborhood Scout!” He increased the magnification. In his ear, strumming was heard. Ignoring it, he locked onto three of the seven troops he could see. Basic infantry, from the looks of it, and barely armed with even the most essential combat-related gear. They seemed to be- he zoomed in closer. His hands began to sweat, the strumming increasing in his ears. He let his rifle down for a second.

“Red?”

“Sonuva- they're sending in suicide clones!” Green swallowed, as was clear by the message from his mic.

“And what's the problem?”

“I set up a minefield, you idiot!”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. Keep an eye out. There's seven here, but there might be more.” With a quick pull of the trigger, he sent six Smart-Rounds downwind, severing the necks of the three he targeted. A second later, four more rounds were dispatched, wiping three more from existence. As he targeted the last suicide clone, it disappeared. “Hey, Blue?”

“Yeah, Red?”

“I think one of the enemy clones just fell down a hole. Sonuva- Blue, are you playing a guitar?” Blue's strumming was beginning to get on Red's nerves.

“Yeah. You're at Alpha, usually the most contested point, and nothing's happening, so yeah, I have a guitar.” She continued to strum, her undisturbed air beginning to piss off Red. Turning his rifle, he reloaded with a simple 50cal BMG round, aiming directly at the neck of Blue's guitar. With a single shot, he missed slightly, but the sheer wind force following the round ripped the guitar from her hands, scattering it onto the conveyor belt with a clatter. As Blue watched in horror, her precious guitar was mulched up and turned into resources to be used in construction.

“I didn't know I could do that! Damn, I'm good.” Red continued to chuckle at the fact he could turn things into resources, something he had not known before, much to the horror of his teammates. “I know what I'm doing on Friday!”

“Red, don't you even dare.”

“Guys, I need radio silence!”

“Green, this isn't about you!” Blue's eyes had begun to twitch, her anger getting the best of her.

“So, it's always about you, isn't it, Green? 'Oh look at me, I'm Green Hornet! I can't do a real job, so I became a peeping Tom!'” Red could literally feel the redness of Green's face as he sputtered.

“That was only once, Red, and you know it! Oh God, I think they see me.” Green stared through his binoculars, targeting each vehicle he saw produced. He counted one, two, three vehicle production modules, one infantry, and one experimental- they had eight structures, two more than the allowed maximum. Two research modules adorned the command hub of the enemy like gilded statues, statues that needed to be annihilated. “Looks like it will be mainly a vehicle force, supported by basic infantry. Beware, though. Their experimental module came online.”

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The commander, upon receiving information from Green, tapped the anti-tank turrets to the front and flanks of the base wherever he could effectively place them, filling gaps in with walls and Defenders for against the experimental units. Whatever they had in store for the Kepler, it was nothing short of whatever they were ready to do to win, the commander had surmised. With his attention fixed on the ground, he listened in once more on the riveting conversation of the three Avatars below.

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“You ever wonder why we're here?” Red could hear the facepalm from Blue, and the groan from Green as he started the age-old debate he had brought up before. Green was about to respond when Blue beat him to the punch.

“Red, you are not starting it this time!”

“Isn't it one of life's greatest mysteries?”

“Not you too, Green! This is no time to be philosophical!” The combined sound of 'Oooh' from her headset made the other two sound like police sirens. Sighing, she slapped her forehead once more.

“Is it that time of the month- oh, crap! Sorry, got incoming!” Blue sighed, turning off her mic. At least Red was being serious. Now if only-

“Blue, I mean, why are we not in the shade?” Blue grumbled. She hated whenever he made her interrupt him by accident.

“Because I'm on defense.”

“You have an umbrella, and you're not doing anything.” Green grumbled. Blue could hear footsteps as Green came up behind her, positively livid.

“What?”

“There's no one even here!”

“You're welcome!”

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For Red, it was a completely different story. Yes, they had vehicles, and yes, every single one of them were heavily armoured bullet eaters, the monsters called 'tanks.' Their main gun could rip through his armour easily, if they were not so much stuck in holes. One had apparently accidentally run over the suicide clone, but he took credit for the kill, painting the mark on his rifle's stock. The others had fun attempting to traverse a mine field that had absolutely no indication of where the explosives were hidden... which had the unfortunate problem of the fact that he did not remember where they were either.

“Hey, Blue? Remind the commander not to send any vehicles my way for a while?” His radio crackled to life, Blue's sarcastic voice coming in loud and clear.

“Why's that?”

“I forgot where I buried my mines.”

“And where are you now?”

“On top of Node Alpha.” Red and Blue were about to continue their tirade when Green began to sing. It was the one song they had forbade him from ever singing if he valued his continued existence.

“'All covered with cheese! I forgot where my mines were, they might blow up me!'” Green fell over laughing at his own joke, much to the chagrin of Blue and Red, the latter becoming extremely pissed-off. He dropped his rifle by accident, watching it dance across the minefield in a fireworks display of explosions. In a panic, he stared across the field as the mines began to detonate, one after the other. While he would have been content usually, there were at least eight or nine tanks advancing across the field, and to say he was happy was an understatement. He was positively overjoyed. Not only had his accidental blunder destroyed nine tanks, and probably slaughtered a good number of the enemy forces, but his rifle was near the bottom of the node! He snorted at the stroke of luck, clambering down to retrieve his rifle... only to step on one of his mines, blowing bits of Avatar all over.

“Dagnabbit! Well, first one down-”

“Woohoo! I'm not the first one to die this time! Yes!” Green could hear the muffled swearing of Red as he connected to another clone Avatar, albeit with a different loadout.

“At least now I have mine-detection equipment. Green, how is it over on your end-” A laser blast resounding in his headset answered his question. “Dammit Green.” He sighed. He absolutely hated having to replace a minefield, but he hoped- he was wrong. On his wrist, the bar for the capture status of Node Alpha was steadily decreasing, with a 'x3' beside the bar in blue. “Dammit! Commander, I need some powered armour. Drop it half a click west of my position!” A thruster on Red's back activated, his speed increased while the battery lasted. As he sped forwards, his direction connecting with Node Alpha, he saw the pod containing his power armour drop nearby. With a burst of speed, he zipped right through it, rolling as the armour secured itself onto his thruster armour. Hissing escaped as the hermetic seals activated, the internal generator powering up as the helmet's Heads Up Display, or HUD, flickered into life, red diamonds springing in to designate enemy signatures.

“Power Armour, Dragon-class Mark Five, online. Beginning combat operations.” With a single jump, gyroscopic stabilizers were calibrated, using all of five minutes. The thruster, now augmented by the armour, blazed brighter than normal, speeding towards the Node to recapture it.

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Blue was having just as much of an issue as Red. SPIDRs, or Self-Propelled Infiltration Drone Recon, were swarming all over the wall and defenses, her flamethrower barely holding them at bay. A suit of Powered Armour, Nephilim-class Mark Three, dropped from orbit near her position. The bulky melee suit had been outfitted with a special field projector that was its most potent weapon. She smiled, rolling through the archway from the pod, the armour clamping onto her as she walked away. Two arm-mounted flamethrowers test-fired, scorching several SPIDR units off the walls.

“Thanks for the present, Commander. Let's send these assholes back to hell!”

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The commander shook his head. Super-heavy tanks supplemented by light attack drones? It would seem like a beginner's tactic to many, but to him, he could see. Green had been issued a phantom suit, unfortunately leaving him unarmed, but able to phase out of the visible spectrum. The Dawnbreaker's experimental module was online, which worried him. Generics were being completed, the waves of infantry finally arriving on the battlefield as Blue was beginning to be pushed back. Shock troopers forced their way in, shotguns and electro-rifles removing SPIDRs as fast as humanly possible, while assault forces funneled out, spreading into their various companies before advancing.

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“Damn, how many tanks can one force have? Apparently, not enough!” Tank after tank was heading at Node Alpha, attempting to protect the silent Avatar that sat on top, aiming a rifle at the armoured Red, now pissed-off as he zigzagged towards the Node, a rocket turret on his shoulder spitting missiles out like no tomorrow as tanks continued to explode, although there was not much of a dent on their forces. As one tank detonated, three more took its place. The Avatar with a rifle, clad in yellow armour, aimed at him, firing a single shot. When it missed, he smiled, frowning when he heard the detonation behind him.

“Heard you needed some help. Callsign Yellowjacket, at your service. I'll cover you while you get that minefield up!” Her rifle spat out rounds as fast as she pulled the trigger, infantry forces that decided to mingle with the tanks suddenly finding their heads missing. A winking emoticon appeared over her visor, floating in the air. Red sighed, tapping his wrist device. A minefield hologram was visible in his HUD, covering the area tanks were detonating in. With a bright flash, mines dropped in mini-pods, digging into the ground and leaving no trace.

“Yellowjacket, we're golden here, we're-” He turned to the Node. Yellowjacket was nowhere to be found, not even a single trace that she had been there. Sighing, he patched in his radio to Blue. “Blue, have the generics finally landed?” The only response was a grunt as communications went dark. A shadow fell over him as his entire HUD was taken up by one massive red diamond. The threat level was beyond what his suit could handle. Turning, he came face to face with an Experimental, the six-legged Tick Tank, not named for size, but shape. “Well, fu-” And with a single step, his Avatar was no more.

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Onboard the Kepler, the situation was not much better than on the ground. The security forces were hard-pressed by the incoming Special Operations troopers forcing their wave through the hull where there was no access point. Hull integrity was falling fast, although the field projectors remained online. The Russian, second in command, held his ground with the forces he commanded aboard the fortress.

“For everyone one of us that falls, ten more will take his place!” Brass littered the floor as automatic rifles chewed through armour, blood spraying across the far walls as many enemy troopers found themselves to be missing a limb very quickly under the bullet storm that rages overhead. The science officer, having prepared herself, stood with the Russian, smiling. Confused, the Russian turned, inquiring about her mental state. “Are you all right? Is everything okay?” In her hand, a laser pistol sat, the overcharge mode activated. “Wait! You are a trai-” His words were silenced as his head was no more. Kicking him to the side, she quietly eliminated the remaining defense forces, waving to the SpecOps at the end of the hall. Her smile began to shift, turning from innocent, to the very definition of sinister. With a flurry, her Kepler uniform was abandoned, a black SpecOps suit underneath.

“All hands, repel boarders! Repeat, repel boarders!” The commander's voice echoed in the empty halls as various other traitors joined up with their SpecOps units. The Cargo Bay, the main area of defense on the Kepler, belonged to the forces of the Dawnbreaker.

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Red's Avatar, the third one out of eight, dropped into a base that was almost overrun by the tanks the enemy was still able to pump out faster than humanly possible. Given the clearance to field a Paladin-type Mechanized Battlesuit, he decided against a standard dropship, preferring to insert from orbit as fighters zipped around. As he streaked in, flames dancing across the hull as shards of debris sped past, he could see Blue pointing at him, then at... the mountain he was heading straight for.

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Blue could only shake her head as Red's screaming came through her headset. She had never expected the idiot to actually attempt an orbital insertion, but after witnessing a flaming, charred mess of a Paladin slam headfirst, of all things, into a mountain, she was less skeptical.

“Dammit, Red. Those things are not cheap.” With a start, she sprinted off, Green following close behind with a plasma drill to retrieve their friend.

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The Kepler was not faring well. Every single skirmish fought against the invaders met with disaster, troopers dead amongst the piles of brass. SpecOps troopers from the Dawnbreaker entered every room, eliminating all crew and civilians within. No single person was spared from the room-to-room slaughter. Even those attempting to utilize the ventilation ducts discovered soon that they had a few more breathing holes than normal. The walls were splashed with red, the screams of panic dying quickly before the quick report of silenced weapons. The traitors smiled as they murdered their former friends, watching them die without even a single shred of pity. The commander stood beside those amongst his command crew that had not turned traitor, waiting on the bridge for any attacks. Something slammed into the door, leaving an imprint. The door had been locked a short while before, no one outside when it had been welded shut. Now, the welds were breaking loose.

“Hold steady. Ready, aim- Hold your fire!” Unit 3 broke through the door, carrying various individuals with him.

“Commander, I have located several of the traitors. I assumed you would wish to... 'speak' with them personally.” It tossed all five individuals it was carrying into the middle of the room, two stirring. One was the science officer. The commander, anger overtaking him, lifted her above him.

“And the resonance- holy! Commander, what's going on?” Unit 3 shook its head, notifying the commander of her lying nature.

“I will not allow you to continue your behaviour. You were compatriots with everyone aboard this ship! How can you simply leave your duty?!” The science officer stopped her confusing speech and smiled as she stared down at him.

“Poor old Commander Jax. Too stupid to realize when the pay is much better from a better Fortress-” Jax threw her across the room, his pistol in his hand in a mere moment. Two shots rang out, but not from him. Unit 3 stood ramrod stiff, a handgun in its hands. Two holes were through the Science Officer, black blood oozing out onto the floor. It lowered its arm, staring at the doorway.

“The download of the shipboard artificial intelligence is complete as ordered, commander. I will activate the Emergency Evacuation Teleport system, and disengage all Neural Link Amplifier activity.” The commander nodded, pointing towards the door. He understood the Kepler was truly losing the battle, and the long life she had been granted.

“Do it. Save our crew, Unit 3.” Unit 3 nodded, sprinting through the hallways.

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On the ground, the base was barely holding back the tide of enemies. Blue had, with Green's help, and a large plasma drill, removed Red's Paladin-type from the mountain he found himself in. Generics swarmed in, many more than should have been possible.

“Damn it! These assholes just don't give up, do they?” Blue kept quiet, as did Green. As the base was overrun, their world turned black...

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For them to wake up inside the NLA pods they had been assigned. Red was the first one out, already confused as to what was going on. Dead troopers littered the ground, along with SpecOps from the Dawnbreaker, something that deeply disturbed him. The fortunate thing, however, was the copius amounts of weapons lying on the ground. Blue kicked the lid off her pod, her bones popping from inactivity, while Green's head was stuck to the ceiling, his helmet suddenly magnetized. With a click and slide, two assault rifles were readied and strapped to Red.

“Could you guys... uh... help me down?” Red was not paying attention, Blue stretching as she gained her bearings.

“The ship is under attack, Blue. Help Green down, I'll check the hallway. Keep your guard up. We don't know who they are, but they very well might be from the Dawnbreaker.” Red held his assault rifle up, aiming around at the doorway. Bodies littered the hall, many of them his fellow shipmates. Green, after being removed from the ceiling, brushed himself off, proceeding to pick up what appeared to be a sniper rifle. The ship shuddered, shells bouncing off of the outside. Blue examined one of the combat zone monitoring stations, watching as their base was defeated easily. The battle did not end, though. Something was wrong.

“Red, we need to get up to the bridge, and find out what's really going on. These are Special Ops troopers. Whatever is going on, we're right in the middle of it.” Green waltzed out humming as Blue prodded him with a shotgun.

“Blue, no matter what, we cannot let them get us. Come on.”

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Unit 3, staring around, kept checking the portable scanner that itheld in his hand. The reactor had a breach, and the coolant was leaking out. Sending the data to Jax, it sprinted down the hallway, SpecOps troops unable to pierce its exterior with the rounds they used. One of them hefted a rocket launcher, his compatriots waving their hands to attempt to get him to put it down. Without stopping, the rocket sped away, hitting the side of the hallway, breaching the hull. Unit 3 magnetized its feet, holding fast to the floor while the SpecOps troopers were sucked out into space.

“Unit 3 in observation corridor. Moving to main habitation area-” It turned the corridor to come face-to-face with Red, Blue and Green, the three members of the eponymous Fireteam Alpha, or, as the crew had come to call them, Fireteam Asshole. Red lowered his weapon, nodding at Unit 3.

“We'll go with you. It's probably for the best.” Unit 3 shook its head, pointing at his scanner.

“The radiation in this area is too high for sapient life to function. You will die a horrible, agonizing death. I must go alone.” Red nodded, leading Fireteam Alpha towards the fighting. “Godspeed, soldiers.”

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The Quantum Reactor was sparking, significant damage inflicted to it. SpecOps troopers lay on the ground, their corpses evident of agonizing death. Approaching the console, it could see the parameters entered. If the Kepler were to continue fighting, the reactor would overload, creating a singularity that could wipe out the nearby planet. That was simply unacceptable. Opening up communications with the bridge, Unit 3 relayed his findings.

“Commander, the Dawnbreaker's forces have rigged our reactor. If we continue fighting, everyone will die. The reactor will detonate, and a quantum singularity will form. While I cannot stress the problems that will cause for us, it will strip the planet of its atmosphere, destroying all life in a catastrophic Armageddon Event. We cannot allow that to happen.” Unit 3 stood still, staring at his communicator. Emotions. He was... feeling anger at the Dawnbreaker. He wanted them to pay for what they were planning to do.

“Shut the reactor down.” Unit 3 was shocked. It had not expected such a response so quickly.

“As you wish, Commander.” It began the calculations for shut down, enabling the proper parameters for coolant flush. As the reactor began to shut down, a message displayed across the screen in front of it. 'Activate Emergency Evacuation Teleport Y/N.' Without a second thought, it hit 'Y', activating the EET to save the crew. The reactor, humming quite loudly before, was silenced, a whooshing of air from around signifying the extricating of the crew.

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Red, Blue and Green were fighting back the SpecOps troopers in the main common area, barely staying alive, when their bodies began to glow. Dropping their weapons, they sprinted away, their bodies dissipating into thin air as the EET shifted them to a distant station.

Jax blasted several of the SpecOps that had burst through the door into the bridge, sending them flying back with every shot.

“Keep fighting! We need to buy Unit 3 more time!” Almost all at once, every member of the crew that stood in defense on that bridge began to glow. Jax smiled, dropping his weapon and waving at the SpecOps troopers that were attempting to get through the pile of bodies that stood in front of the door. With an electricity-like sound and a whoosh of air, the defenders aboard the Kepler's bridge were evacuated.

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The screen in front of Unit 3 shifted, the text changing. 'All living crew members evacuated.' It smiled, turning to come face to face with one of the traitors.

“You saved the crew, huh? I guess I should have stayed loyal. I'll give you some help getting to the bridge. Name's Carter, by the way.” He handed a pistol to Unit 3, pointing to the hall.

“You do not wish to harm the crew?” Carter shook his head, a single tear falling from his eye.

“It was not about money, but keeping my family safe. The Dawnbreaker... their commander said that he would kill my family if I did not betray Jax. I should have been stronger.” Unit 3 put its hand on his shoulder, pointing to the door. Before leaving, Carter lifted a vacuum-seal helmet, placing it on his head. His radio on, he relayed info to Unit 3. “I acted more as a saboteur amongst the enemy's ranks. There are charges placed at strategic areas. They detonate, and the forces sent here by the Dawnbreaker will be sucked out into space. So will I, but that's the price I pay for being a traitor, I guess.” Rounding the corner, they came across piles of dead bodies, from both vessels.

“This is not normal. Both sides are dead, with no entry or exit wounds. Curious.” Carter moved forward, stopping at a certain spot.

“Radiation. They were cooked from the inside out.” Staring at the vents, Carter smiled. “We can use the vents to get to the bridge. They won't know what hit them.” Unit 3 wrestled the vent covering from the wall, tossing it aside.

“After you, Agent Carter.” Carter nodded, entering. The vent was large enough for himself and Unit 3 to enter and move around, albeit with some modicum of difficulty, Carter's visor lighting up with a navigation line.

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The trip through the vents was uneventful, although many a time Carter stared out of a vent cover to see more bodies, although those ones were riddled with burns and holes. The bridge itself was no different, but there were no dead members of the crew of the Kepler there. Carter approached the weapons console, cross-referencing munitions stores for what he was looking for.

“Agent Carter, this plan of yours, what does it entail?” Carter pointed to the screen, a single weapon shown: a thermobaric nuclear missile.

“We launch the last nuke we have into the space between the ships. Once it is far enough away that it will not harm the ship, I will detonate it and the charges I placed, effectively displaying our supposed 'destruction'. When that happens, steer the Kepler towards the planet. No one aboard will survive except you, Unit 3.” Unit 3 stared at the weapon until it occurred to him.

“Use the nuclear device to generate an electromagnetic pulse, thereby blocking the Dawnbreaker's sensors! Ingenious, for a human.” Carter smirked, typing out the calculations as best as he could. The weapon was primed, Unit 3 standing at the ready in front of the manual steering of the helm.

“Okay... firing... now!” The missile was away, speeding towards the Dawnbreaker. Carter whispered a countdown, trying to keep himself from appearing frightened. “Five, four, three, two, detonating!” He pressed two switches. A bright flash spread in the vacuum of space, the Dawnbreaker drifting from the blast. The Kepler shuddered as the charges detonated, screams filling the halls as troopers were sucked out into space.

“Steering towards the planet! Brace for impact!” There was no indication that the Kepler's ruse had been discovered. The desert of the battle loomed before them, the field created by the pylons having since deactivated. Carter held his pistol in his hands, staring at Unit 3.

“I'm going to die anyways, Unit 3.” With that, he held the pistol to his head, pulling the trigger. The shot rang out, jerking Unit 3's concentration away from flying the Kepler. While normally it would have respected the death and sent the body out an airlock, the last flight of the Kepler was upon it. The desert came up to meet them quickly.

“Initiating physical and digital lockdowns. Hibernation mode activated.” Unit 3's eyes deactivated as the Kepler rammed into the planet. Smoke trailed high as fires were suppressed by the automatic systems that still ran. Emergency backup power activated, deploying defense drones to protect the wreck until such a time when it was ready to be discovered.

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The wreck, however, was discovered, not by nobles, nor soldiers. It was not even discovered by magi or simple alchemists. The lowly farmers that entered were scared witless, the sights they witnessed of the utmost horror. Their home had been destroyed, and they had witnessed the great hulk of an unknown creation crash into what was once a great forest, but was now a desert. There was no indication of what it was, at least, in their eyes. As they explored, something followed them. Two were unlucky enough to be left outside as the ones who explored inside rushed out, many with multiple wounds and burns.

“This being, it is evil! Something in the dark!” The darkness had, indeed, attacked them, floating creatures spitting death at their compatriots who had not escaped. The reports reached the ears of the highest authority, the area cordoned off until such a time it was relegated to those that were deemed important enough.

2802 AD – The Planet Equus

Seven years had passed for the princesses as they refused request after request to allow search parties to retrieve the corpses of those who had gone off and never returned from exploring what was now known as a wreck of celestial origins. Princess Luna, the eponymous Princess of the Night, was tasked with entering the wreck to discern the secrets it might contain.

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“Internal power, online. Systems, online. Visual sensors reactivated.” Unit 3 stood still, staring around. The viewport of the Kepler had been utterly destroyed, debris and sand everywhere. “Lockdown is still active. Backup power nearly depleted.” It began a scan, detecting many corpses of unknown origin within its halls. The new information disturbed it, as the readings were clear; whatever inhabited the planet, it was intelligent, a fact that should have blocked the Committee from using such a planet as a battleground.

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“'Dear Luna, I really do hope you are well. Star Swirl has agreed to accompany you to the wreck of this strange object, and a company of our finest Royal Guards. Be cautious, my sister. The stories of what happens inside the wreck are grave indeed, stories of floating creatures that spit death. Hope to see you soon, Celestia.'” Luna tucked away the scroll, staring out at the research camp that spread around the front of the wreck. The scale of it was beyond anything that Celestia nor Luna had ever encountered. The mechanics of it, everything, it was all beyond their understanding. A greyish-blue unicorn with a long, flowing white beard approached Luna, bowing before her.

“Dear Princess, we have not yet been able to decipher the markings on the side of the wreck. It appears to be some form of alien language.” Star Swirl the Bearded stood behind her, shifting uncomfortably. His robe was slightly stained red on one shoulder. With her magic, Luna lifted his robe to reveal a wound, exactly the same as the other wounds that others had come out with, the ones who had come back from exploring the wreck. Luna bowed her head, looking over at the Royal Guards.

“Star Swirl, dear friend. We shall explore this wreck, and we shall bring back the bodies of the fallen.” Star Swirl shook his head.

“Princess, I must insist I come with you. It is dangerous inside of there. I would also request the unicorns that came with the company of guards. You will see what I mean.” Luna nodded, Star Swirl galloping away to begin preparations. Luna stared up at the wreck, her eyes dark.

“What secrets do you hold?”

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The exploration had gone swimmingly, Princess Luna spearheading the effort to discern the secrets inside of the wreck. So far, the strange creatures had assaulted them twice, and both times, they had dispatched them accordingly, their magic blasts revealing incredibly complex machinery. The fact of that alone disturbed Luna, as did the corpses in the corridor she entered. Strange, bipedal corpses, most decayed to bones, others still decaying, some almost perfectly preserved. A guard approached Luna and Star Swirl, bowing before them.

“My lord, your Majesty, we are nearly into what appears to be a central area. There seems to be some strange device in the centre, a large cylinder with magnetically charged blocks. Our compasses keep pointing towards them.” Luna nodded, pointing forward. Star Swirl mused to himself, unsure about the wreck.

“This is stranger and stranger. Something appears to be wanting us in that central area... but that's impossible... unless- Princess, be warned! It may be a trap in there-” Luna was already through the door, Star Swirl diving through before the door hissed, two slabs of metal slamming together and closing off their escape. They all watched as the room was illuminated from above, corpses stretching out far in what once was a beautiful garden, stained by blood and craters from devices unknown. The bipedal beings... they had fought each other, resulting in their untimely demise. A single tear escaped Luna's eye.

“Such death... such destruction. The pain, it must have been insurmountable.” Luna allowed the guards with them to examine the bodies, in a futile way, to discern what exactly transpired.

“You will not find any alive, I am afraid.” Clanking was heard behind them as something approached. The voice seemed... alien, the steps mechanical in pattern. Luna flipped around, her eyes burdened with sorrow. Before her stood a pony, although it seemed... strange. Where she would have had a tail, it had a long metal rod that was flexible, yet solid.

“What happened to them?” The pony shook its head, sadness in its voice.

“They fought each other. Someone deemed them traitors, and used pawns to kill those they did not agree with. I am designated as Unit 3, although it might be prudent for a more fitting name to be bestowed upon me. Equine species are the dominant lifeforms on this planet, correct?” Luna, in silence, merely nodded, her deep sorrow clear. Unit 3 approached her, patting her shoulder. “There will be time for funerals. However-” Unit 3 pointed at Star Swirl “-he is of the proper intelligence. I must request to interface with the individual standing there.” Luna looked at Star Swirl, then back to Unit 3.

“How do I know you do not wish the Court Magician harmed? He is but one pony, and there are so many more-” Unit 3 held up its hoof, irritation displayed clearly across its face, which appeared to be a strange combination of metal and flesh.

“There is only one of the proper intelligence and understanding. Your chronological age is sufficient, but your maturity level is low. That facet alone would interrupt the interface process.” Luna shook her head.

“No! I will not allow-” Star Swirl held up his hoof, silencing Luna. He stepped forward, nodding towards Unit 3.

“What would we gain should I... 'interface' with you?” Unit 3 pointed at the wreck around him.

“There is a major systems lockdown, but through such an interface, I will be able to rectify the physical lockdown, but only certain portions of the digital-”

“Digital?” Luna was just as confused as the rest who stood with her. Star Swirl shook his head, clearing it from any confusion he may have felt.

“I suppose that will suffice. We will learn more if I interface, correct?” Unit 3 nodded, pointing at a chair near the end of the room. There was a strange port at the back where four small appendages were docked.

“Implantation will begin shortly, with your permission, ma'am.” Luna nodded, leaving Star Swirl in the care of Unit 3. The chair near the end shifted in shape to encompass the form of an equine, ready for whatever 'implantation' exactly meant. Luna would have been ready if she had been properly warned, but as it stood, she was never ready for the screams that came. Star Swirl, the greatest of the Court Magi, was screaming like a small filly who was afraid of the dark. The process only lasted a few seconds, but it was enough to unnerve the entire group who stood with Luna, herself extremely unnerved at the sight. Star Swirl stood up, his eyes flashing with strange lights. Turning around, his neck had a metal plate with various holes and connections.

“Luna, you would not believe everything I can see! I can see stars, planets, whole galaxies, history of entire races!” Star Swirl seemed to be in his own little world, Unit 3 standing by.

“Implantation of access module is complete. This will allow the one known as Star Swirl the Bearded access to the areas of the digital library contained within this vessel not held behind firewalls by the lockdown, and complete access to the vessel.” Star Swirl stared at Unit 3.

“This... this is a ship? Wait...” His eyes flashed, widening in surprise as he discovered exactly what Unit 3 meant. “This it- but- that's impossible! Incredibly impossible! The discoveries we could make! Princess Luna, the advancements we could provide the world!” Luna nodded, staring up at the ceiling. A large star chart had appeared, displaying various pieces of information in a language that she did not understand.

“Star Swirl, what did you discover about this vessel?” Star Swirl concentrated, the information apparently flashing across his vision.

“Constructed in 2665 AD, a part of a fleet of colony ships to an abandoned colony. The Kepler was a Wyvern-class variant, designed to transport military forces instead of colonists. Hmm? Data about the assignment it was one before it crashed on this planet seems to be behind a firewall. But we do understand now, Princess. This... this wreck, it is a vessel from beyond the stars. Far beyond the stars, might I add?” Luna nodded, smiling.

“Equestria will know of your sacrifice, Star Swirl.” Star Swirl frowned, staring at Luna. He did not understand of what she spoke.

“Sacrifice, Princess?”

“We will have to create a story of your disappearance. Any knowledge of you still living will have to be kept under the strictest confidence. You will remain aboard the Kepler, and make advancements for the betterment of our species. I shall alert my sister to these developments. As for anything else, just submit your request directly to me. I shall oversee this project myself.” Luna thought to herself about the project, and everything entailed within. It could mean either another war, or simply the golden age of Equestria. Either way, she was excited to witness the project she had so carefully constructed. And for five hundred years, no knowledge of the project would ever leak out.

Author's Notes:

Four months of work, and around two months of typing, the PROLOGUE of Future Tactics: The War Games is now up! Let's just say... things are about to get interesting.

Criticisms are welcome, but please make it constructive. This is NOT 4chan.