LORE COMPENDIUM believe that their Empire, which had existed for nearly twenty millennia,
could ever truly fall. A select few, however, foresaw the inevitable.
THE GALAXY AWAKENS
Mecatol Rex. The center of the known galaxy and seat of the former
Lazax Empire. Scarred by the flames of betrayal, Rex is a specter of a fallen
empire and of ages long forgotten, yet it remains an object of reverence –
and desire – in a galaxy of conflict and uncertainty.
Once, the great city that spanned its surface was the pinnacle of
civilization. Today, Mecatol City is naught but a blasted shell of its former
glory, a grim respite in the toxic Sea of Desolation that covers the majority of
the planet.
Even so, its parabolic history of decadence and destruction does little
to deter those who would seek to harness its power. The Winnaran
custodians who dwell within the remnants of the city maintain what is left of
the former capital, waiting for one of the Great Races to step forward and
take up the mantle of the former Emperors.
But who among the races of the galaxy could fill the void left by the
Lazax? To lay claim to the throne is a destiny sought by many, yet the
shadows of the past serve as a grim warning to those who would follow in
their footsteps.
THE RISE OF LEGEND
In ages past, when the last of the Mahact kings were slain and the
galaxy was brought to its knees, a new Empire emerged from the ashes and
bitterness of war. At its forefront were the Lazax, then relatively unknown.
They chose Mecatol Rex as the seat of their fledgling Empire, abandoning an
ancestral home world that has since been lost to the mists of time.
System by system, the Lazax swept through the galaxy. To each
civilization that stood against them, they issued the same command: accept
the benevolent sovereignty of the Empire. To be at odds with the new
Empire would be madness.
It is likely that the Lazax met little resistance. The tyrannical
oppression of the Mahact had primed the galaxy to stand with the young
Empire, and the Lazax’s promises of generosity and fairness did not fall on
deaf ears. Of those that rejected the law of the Lazax, no record remains.
As the Lazax Empire grew, so too did the power of its subjects, uplifted
by the Lazax and nurtured by the strength of the Empire. For tens of
thousands of years, the Lazax ruled. Benevolent and fair, they shared the
wealth and knowledge of the universe with their subjects.
With the firm guidance of the Lazax, the galaxy prospered. Economies
flourished, advancements in the fields of medicine and engineering spread,
and the Great Races of the Empire worked together in harmony, despite
their various troubles and past conflicts. The peace of the Lazax Empire was
known to all.
THE SUN SETS ON AN EMPIRE
Even as the Empire flourished, whispers of unrest began to take hold
in the galaxy. Beneath the veneer of prosperity and advancement festered a
complacency that would see the Lazax Empire to its end.
As time passed, the Lazax emperors grew comfortable in their lofty
positions. Concerns over the future of the Empire were gradually replaced
by petty internecine squabbles and political maneuverings. While the
strength of the Lazax was still irrefutable, the Emperors had grown blind to
the ever-growing ambition of the other Great Races. The solid foundation of
the Empire was being weakened from within.
Then came the spark that would ignite chaos throughout the Empire.
The Letnev, one of the first civilizations uplifted by the Lazax, had grown
frustrated with overbearing Imperial trade sanctions and set up a blockade
around the Quann Wormhole. The obstruction of one of the galaxy’s major
trade routes did not sit well within the Empire.
The Humans of Sol, the youngest of the Great Races and who fostered
no great love for the Letnev, quickly grew tired of the Letnev’s posturing and
fired upon the blockade, igniting a full-scale war between them.
The Lazax military, no longer in control of the situation, attempted –
unsuccessfully – to intervene in the conflict, drawing the ire of both sides,
who responded to the Lazax’s interference with outright hostility.
With two of the Great Races in open rebellion, the Hylar – who had
long grown weary of the meddling oversight of the Lazax – seized the
opportunity to secede. In the short span of several years, the Empire had
devolved into chaos.
The early decades of the Twilight Wars saw the Lazax scrambling to
hold onto peace and stability in the Empire. Many of the Lazax refused to
The leader of this prescient group, a disillusioned Lazax councilor by
the name of Ibna Vel Syd, saw that the Lazax could not maintain their
position of power. He begged the Emperor to consolidate his military might
at Mecatol Rex, the Empire’s still-beating heart. Unwilling to believe that the
right of his forebears could ever truly be challenged, the Emperor dismissed
Vel Syd’s concerns as baseless fear-mongering and made no effort to regain
control of the failing Empire.
Furious at the Emperor’s complacency, Vel Syd led a group of loyal
followers and a small contingent of renegade Hylar scientists to a planet far
beyond the borderlands. As they made their desperate escape, they
destroyed the Hall of Cartography in Mecatol City so that none who
suspected their plan could ever uncover their secret destination.
The Emperor, reeling from the betrayal of one of his own and utterly
helpless in the face of three full-scale rebellions, fell into a deep depression.
Unable to muster the resources to deal with even the problems that arose
within Mecatol City, he left the governance of the Empire to his
subordinates.
The final fate of the Lazax was sealed when a massive fleet of Sol ships
appeared without warning in the skies above Mecatol Rex. With the Lazax’s
Mecatol Fleet away in a foreign system, Mecatol City was utterly defenseless.
The destruction was absolute. The last Emperor of the Lazax, Salai Sai
Corian, died in the Sol bombardment, and a successor was never named.
In the years following the destruction of Mecatol City, the Lazax were
hunted down and exterminated without exception and without mercy. Only
the Winnarans, faithful servants of the Lazax, remained true to the Empire,
and they were powerless to stop the massacre. Those that tried to interfere
were slaughtered in kind. Within twenty years, the Lazax were but a
memory.
THE TWILIGHT WARS
Without the unifying presence of the Lazax, the Empire quickly
devolved into chaos and war. The Great Races, no longer shackled by
Imperial sanctions, clashed over territory, over positions of power, and in
some cases, out of spite.
The Sol, Hacan, and Jol-Nar, complicit in the betrayal of the Lazax,
sought to cannibalize the power of the Empire. Conflict erupted throughout
the galaxy as the various factions raced to protect their sovereignty and stake
out their claims of the fallen Empire’s territory.
Vast fleets of advanced warships exchanged deadly volleys in massive
battles. Thousands of ships and lives were sacrificed for the most miniscule
of territory gains. For each battle won, another was lost, and the wars
continued unabated.
AN AGE OF UNREST
Even the sanctuaries of some Great Races would not remain
untouched. During the initial years of the Twilight Wars, the Letnev captured
Archon Tau, one of the peaceful Xxcha home worlds, an act which would lead
to the eventual militarization of the Xxcha and, during the fight to retake
their home, the complete and utter devastation of the garden world.
The scientists of the Hylar race, unbound by the guiding morality of
the Lazax, leaned heavily on slavery and experimentation. Having subjugated
a fiery race known as the Gashlai many years prior, the Hylar forced them to
build a weapon of unmatched power, which the Hylar in turn unleashed
upon the unsuspecting N’orr.
For hundreds of years, the Twilight Wars dismantled the progress and
wisdom of the last twenty thousand years. Finally, their civilizations reduced
to ashes, the Great Races withdrew quietly to their respective home systems,
unable to sustain any further losses. The galaxy was in shambles, but at last
the Age of Twilight had come to an end.
DISTANT SUNS
Millennia have passed since the final battles of the Twilight Wars. The
subjects of the former Galactic Council have forgotten the abject horrors of
war. A quiet stillness has taken hold in the galaxy in the absence of conflict,
and over time, the Great Races have recovered a portion of their former
strength. Reconstruction, though it has taken many years, has seen many of
the homeworlds of the Great Races return to their pre-war states.
Yet beneath the placid surface, the galaxy stirs. Some, no longer
content to remain within the bounds of their reduced territories, have begun
to look beyond the stars of their home systems. The spark of ambition drives
them forth to seek new frontiers.
 On the fringes of the borderlands, cautious explorers in search of
valuable commodities chart new routes into systems never before touched
by civilization. Newly discovered garden worlds – overflowing with natural
resources – funnel rare minerals into the economies of those lucky enough to
have found them. These discoveries usher in an era of revitalized prosperity
and commerce.
ECHOES OF THE PAST
Even as the events of the present blaze a path towards the future, so
too has the past come back to life. Returning to planets once inhabited by
citizens of the Empire, the races of the galaxy are reestablishing their former
colonies.
In some cases, long-lost outposts have been found to be alive and
well, thriving in the absence of war, and have been brought back into the
fold of civilization. In other cases, entire planets, once bustling commercial
hubs or centers of culture and learning, have been found utterly devoid of
life. Littered with the skeletons of ancient starships, these planets serve as
grim reminders of the wars of ages past.
THREATS FROM BEYOND
With the reemergence of the Great Races – and the promise of an
empire reborn – comes danger as well. Not all in the galaxy wish to see the
Empire brought back to life, and the sins of the past cast a pall over Mecatol
Rex.
During the early years of the Twilight Wars, when the Lazax councilor
Ibna Vel Syd and his compatriots betrayed the Emperor and fled Mecatol
Rex, little could be done to search for them. The Emperor would never learn
of Vel Syd’s fate, and for thousands of years, it was assumed that they had
perished.
But the story of the Lazax was far from ended. Vel Syd and his people,
their lifespans augmented by Hylar technology, evaded the genocide of their
brethren on a new homeworld. It was a time of great sorrow for the Lazax,
but it was also a time of new beginnings.
On their harsh new world, the survivors found that more and more of
their organs needed to be augmented with machinery in order to survive. So
much of their bodies had become machine that they barely resembled their
former selves. Thus, the L1Z1X were born.
As the centuries passed and the L1Z1X consolidated their power, Ibna
Vel Syd occupied himself fully with revenge, claiming that the L1Z1X would
one day retake the Empire. Unknown to Vel Syd, however, a divide was
growing within his people.
Mordai, one of Vel Syd’s original coterie and Chief Enhancer of the
L1Z1X, aspired to something greater. He became obsessed with ridding his
own body – and those of his followers – of all organic tissue.
During one of his experiments, Mordai mistakenly infected himself
with a recursive virus that, unbeknown to him, slowly drove him mad. As the
virus eroded the mental state of Mordai and his followers, they took on new
personas.
Calling themselves the Nekro, they turned against their former
brethren, citing reluctance to abandon one’s organic form as a weakness that
must be purged.
At great length and great cost, the L1Z1X managed to defeat the
Nekro, who had by then fully devolved into mechanical insanity. But in the
black of space a single infected satellite was overlooked by the L1Z1X. The
Nekro would survive, and recent rumors of missing ships and entire colonies
gone suddenly silent prophesy an ill omen for all.
Nevertheless, the shadowed legacy of the Lazax is far from the only
threat faced by the reemerging civilizations of the galaxy.
Near the Shaleri passage, trade vessels have gone missing with no
explanation. Unknown alien craft have been spotted by patrols, only to
disappear without a trace moments later. These strange occurrences might
have been attributed to pirates or to the gravitational anomalies present in
Shaleri space if it weren’t for one thing: the emergence of the Creuss.
Hailing from a space beyond the Shaleri passage, the intentions of the
Creuss are unknown. Although they claim to be a peaceful race, there are
those who insist the Creuss are connected to the tragedies that frequent
those regions of the stars.
Even stranger than the Creuss are the Arborec. A race of harmonious
plant-like organisms, the Arborec each function as part of a greater whole:
the Prime Symphony. Unable to communicate vocally with the other races,
the Arborec resort to unconventional means – reanimating the dead tissue of
other sentient beings and using the animated organism as a vessel.
Understandably, the Arborec’s unusual methods of communication
have been met with apprehension – and in some cases outright disgust – by
the other races. It is all too possible that the Arborec might be far more
ambitious than they appear.
These dark forces move about freely just beyond the fringes of
civilized space, and even the Lazax themselves would have been ill-equipped
to defend against them. As the light of a new dawn illuminates the galaxy,
the darkness draws even closer, threatening another dark age.
THE SHADOW OF WAR
As the threat of danger looms over the galaxy, old alliances are being
forged anew – and old rivalries as well. From beyond the Mahact Plateau,
cautious envoys from strange, never-before-seen peoples arrive at Mecatol
Rex, eager to evaluate what lingering power – or ancient technologies –
might be found on the devastated planet.
Many of the lost technologies of the Lazax have been rediscovered.
However, some former members of the Empire have begun secretly
developing weapons of immeasurable power, keeping them hidden in the
shadows of their homeworlds.
One such weapon, known as a “war sun,” is the terrifying result of
Hylar weapons research from the early years of the Twilight Wars. Despite
ethical concerns that surround the use of such raw, indiscriminate power,
there are those who would risk the dangers of such a pyrrhic weapon to
secure their place in the galactic order.
AN EMPTY THRONE
Gone is the weariness of war known to generations past. Even those
races that played vital roles in the downfall of the Lazax are filled anew with
vigor and pride.
Mecatol City – the ever-faithful Winnarans its sole custodians – is a
shining beacon on an otherwise shattered planet. Unoccupied, its throne
awaits those who would claim it, though none yet have the power to do so.
Now, the Great Races reach out from their ancestral homes, eager to
prove themselves worthy successors. Border skirmishes between
neighboring systems threaten to break the uneasy peace as the armies of the
Great Races aim to return to their former glory.
DAWN OF A NEW ERA
As the galaxy churns inexorably towards its future, the Great Races
have begun to feed the flames of their war machines. Each vies to become
the indisputable ruler of the stars.
An epoch of great struggle threatens to engulf the galaxy once more.
It is a time of steadfast alliances and bloody betrayals. Of words and of war.
Of deep-seated honor and hard-won glory.
It is the dawn of a new era.
Pax Magnifica Bellum Gloriosum!
THE PROPHECY OF IXTH
The Lazax. Founders of the greatest empire to span the galaxy. Hailed
by some as benevolent rulers and powerful warrior-philosophers. Despised
by others as vicious despots and arrogant dictators. Even a thousand years
since their fall, few can consider them as anything but the Emperors of the
entire galaxy. But there was a time when the Lazax were just another young
and fiery race, and the galaxy was ruled by others.
Long before the Lazax, in the days of hallowed antiquity, legends and
stories speak of the rule of the gene-sorcerers; the dreaded Mahact. Little is
known about them save that their powers of cloning and genetic
manipulation were nearly akin to magic, and that they divided the galaxy into
many feudal holdings, each controlled by a Mahact family. The reign of the
Mahact lasted for centuries, but it could not endure under the weight of
their own decadence.
The dynasties of the Mahact kings were already crumbling under the
weight of infighting and their debased technologies when the Lazax stepped
onto the galactic stage. The Lazax armies crushed the remaining Mahact,
slaying the last of their kings and purging their scourge from the civilized
stars. Then, they built their reign on their legacy as liberators. They had
saved the galaxy, and in return, its grateful citizens greeted their new
masters with enthusiastic acclaim.
And so the Lazax Emperors set about ruling their new Imperium. Over
twenty-four millennia, the Lazax prospered, waned, and eventually fell.
Plenty of time for the rest of the galaxy, even the Lazax themselves, to forget
about the struggles that had seen them rise to power in the first place.
Plenty of time to forget about old horrors from the dawn of galactic history.
But those old horrors had not forgotten about them.
Within the Old Deep, the lightless warrens and passageways that lie
far below Mecatol City, are vaults from the earliest days of Lazax rule. Some
are cunningly hidden, while others are defended by fiendish traps and
powerful barriers. Even the Winnaran custodians do not know what secrets
they may contain.
However, as the powerful factions of the galaxy began to expand
beyond their borders once again, they dispatched emissaries to Mecatol City.
Some were politicians or soldiers sent to negotiate treaties or prepare for
war, but others were scientists and historians. They hoped to rediscover the
Lazax’s secrets and perhaps even give their own peoples some advantage in
the conflicts to come.
One team had been sent from Creuss on the basis of fragmented
information discovered from a wrecked ship found drifting in the depths of
Shaleri space. With the codes and maps recovered from the dead captain’s
vault, they unlocked an archive within the Catacombs of the Primals so old it
had been sealed before the Lazax had declared their Empire. Within these
ancient records they found something the galaxy had searched for across
millennia.
They found a map leading to Ixth. Fabled paradise of a million
dreamers, promised land of a thousand faiths, the legend of Ixth was as old
as the Lazax. Although no one could agree on exactly where Ixth was, or
what could be found on this legendary world, everyone did agree that the
race that found it would reap immense riches and wield immeasurable
power.
The Creuss believed they knew how to reach it. The discovery shocked
the various great powers of the galaxy out of their constant struggles, and
ignited a fevered race to discover the fabled world.
SOVEREIGNS OF ELD
The maps led to a planet called Acheron, in the far reaches of Shaleri
space. The Creuss mobilized an expeditionary armada without delay.
However, the rest of the races of the Galactic Council unanimously decried
their actions. The Creuss, not wanting to spark a war on every front, agreed
to allow non-Creuss observers to join their expedition.
The expedition sailed around the turbulent space surrounding the
Singularity of Manon, using the distant Torali Pulsar as their guide. Even as
they delved deep into the unexplored nebulas beyond the Pulsar, they began
to come under attack. Fast raiding ships struck at the edges of their fleet,
and mysterious ambushers attacked scouting parties as they set down on
planets along the way.
But the expedition pressed on. Eventually, they came across a clutch
of dead planets circling an ancient dwarf star. The system appeared entirely
without note, but clues within the maps made oblique references to such a
place. The Creuss searched each planet in turn, and eventually they came to
the innermost, a lonely world of dust and black oceans. The expedition’s
scholars consulted their research and agreed; they had finally found Acheron.
The Creuss carefully swept the planet with their most powerful
sensors and dispatched probes and parties of explorers to the surface. Soon,
their persistence was rewarded. Buried beneath the depths of Acheron’s
deepest sea were the ruins of a civilization that had been ancient before it
had been flooded. At its heart was a gateway; an artificial wormhole larger
and more powerful than any other that the galaxy had ever seen.
The Creuss immediately set about trying to unlock the gateway,
pushing their formidable understanding of wormhole physics to its limits.
And, soon, they succeeded. They opened the gateway, and stepped through
to Ixth. They expected a paradise.
They were wrong.
Too late, the Creuss discovered that the prophecies of Ixth had been
lies. Instead of a promised land, they discovered a tomb-city on a planet
outside the galaxy. Instead of riches, they discovered horrors from a
forgotten age. And instead of power, they awakened the Mahact.
For Ixth was their ancestral home. Driven from the galaxy by the
Lazax, unable to return through the sealed Acheron gate, the Mahact had
entombed themselves to await the day when someone would make the
mistake of reopening the gate and awaken them.
Those belonging to the Creuss expedition were the Mahact’s first
victims. Their sorcerous technology allowed the Mahact to remake the
Creuss’ ethereal forms, crafting them into loyal servants for their new
masters. From the entire expeditionary armada, only a few observers from
the other races were able to escape to warn the rest of the galaxy.
Once awake, the Mahact were able to regain control over Acheron
and the gate. The Mahact worked frantically and with single-minded
purpose to ensure that they could never be isolated or exiled again, and they
had little concern for other consequences of their actions.
So they unleashed the full force of their ancient machines, unbinding
the wormhole from Acheron. Energy capable of maintaining the gateway
until the stars burned out was unleashed in a moment, expanding its
structure to swallow Ixth whole and hurl it into the midst of the galaxy’s
bright core stars.
This drastic act destroyed the gateway. On Ixth, the mechanisms
simply vanished, lost amongst a hundred dimensions of space and time, and
leaving a glowing crater in the middle of the Mahact’s capital city. On
Acheron, the consequences were far worse.
THE COLLAPSE OF ACHERON
The violent severing of the gateway from Acheron ripped the
fundamental fabric of the universe asunder. A massive gravity rift tore the
planet to whirling shards, and split the star system in twain.
Then it began to grow, becoming a massive gravitational vortex that
consumed the Acheron system. The sun writhed and twisted under the
assault, and the remaining planets slowly crumbled. But that was not the
worst. The power of Acheron’s wormhole gateway meant that, when it was
destroyed, the rift became a gaping wound in reality. Through this wound
spilled vicious creatures from a parallel dimension. Calling themselves the
Vuil’raith, they seem to have sprung fully formed from the darkest
nightmares of a hundred different species.
The Vuil’raith, however, are all too real. They seek to destroy the
boundaries between this reality and their own, and in doing so, merge the
galaxy into a warped and hellish extension of their home. Worse, their
malevolence is matched by their cunning. They have courted allies amongst
those cast aside and discarded by their own species, promising that those
who serve the Vuil’raith now shall be lords of creation when the new order
comes. For every world that falls to the voracious appetites of the Vuil’raith
fleets, another collapses after being undermined by traitors from within.
In their bid to retake the galaxy, the Mahact unwittingly unleashed yet
another threat, one that is possibly more dangerous than themselves.
NEW ALLIANCES
The return of the Mahact has also spurred the rise of other races to
prominence on the galactic stage. The fragile balance of power between the
traditional members of the Galactic Council has shattered under the
pressures of these upstarts.
On many worlds, the Titans of Ul rise from beneath the ground. Once
slaves of the Mahact, millennia of slumber have freed the Titans’ minds from
domination. Now they strive to carve out a place for themselves in the
galaxy.
Long ago, the Argent Flight accepted the task of ensuring the Mahact
would never return to plague the galaxy, and worked to accomplish it in
secret. Now that their ancient foe has returned, the time for secrecy is over.
Even more mysterious are the forces of the Empyrean and the Nomad.
In both cases, recent events seemed to have spurred them to action. More
black-hulled ships have been spotted lurking on the edges of known systems,
while mercenaries flock to the Nomad’s promises of fantastic wealth.
Others see the galactic upheaval as an opportunity to be grasped. The
newly formed Naaz-Rokha Alliance looks at its peers with contempt. Isn’t it
time for a younger species to chart the course of galactic affairs?
TIDES OF WAR
Beset by new rivals and ancient threats, the elder races of the galaxy
rush to form alliances and build up their military might. As outposts and
fortresses fall silent along borders, and night skies flicker with the light of
distant weapons fire, planets everywhere ready their defenses and prepare
for war.
Some believe a glorious new era is about to dawn—that a light might
be forged that can resist the coming darkness. A glorious Imperium, rising
from the ashes of the old.
But others know that old grudges run too deep to be so readily healed.
They fear the galaxy is perched on the precipice of titanic conflict, and that
the return of the Mahact will send it all plunging into the abyss.
 VEL-SYD
The sound of gunfire echoed through the Hall of Cartography. Ibna
Vel Syd grimaced. They had been discovered. It would only be a matter of
time before the peacekeepers arrived. And the Winnarans. Ibna hated the
Winnarans. His hands trembled as he navigated the imperial archives.
Ibna wiped the sweat from his brow and motioned to the soldier
waiting by the door. “Send word. Detonate the charges on the thirty-fourth
floor. I need more time.” The soldier bowed and faded into the darkness
beyond the doorway.
Ibna returned to his work, a bright blue planet flashing across the
screen before him. A frozen planet. No good. He clenched his jaw. If he
could not find a suitable planet, then all was lost. He slammed a closed fist
against the wall. Damn them all. If only they’d listened. But no. Despite his
position as a councilor, he may as well have been a janitor. Nothing he said
would ever convince them of the coming danger. Nothing he said would
ever convince them that the time of the Lazax was at an end.
A sudden explosion rocked the building. That would be the thirty-
fourth floor, Ibna thought. The fires would keep them busy, at least for now.
Anxiety began to set in. More planets on the screen. Dangerous native life-
forms. Mineral poor. Primordial. Already habited. All of them worthless.
Bright lights illuminated the room as peacekeeper ships flew around
the tower, surveying the damage. Sirens wailed in the distance. Ibna
wondered if they realized—if they understood that this was no accident.
Ibna paused, his eyes locked on the data that had just appeared
before him. A small star, far beyond the borderlands—Hazz—had a single,
innocuous satellite. Poor in natural resources, but not starved. Relatively
stable weather patterns. Decidedly too far beyond the outer rim to be a
candidate for colonization or even mining.
Ibna’s hearts thumped loudly in his chest. He could barely swallow.
This is it. Fumbling, he produced a data drive from his pocket and set it to
download the planet’s astrogation coordinates. Within moments, it was
done, and he set the second phase of his plan into motion.
He removed a second data drive from his robes. It contained a
program, one that Head Researcher Mordai had made for a single purpose—
the eradication of all of the knowledge contained within the Hall of
Cartography. No record would remain of Ibna’s search. No record would
remain of the tiny star of Hazz and the future homeworld of the Lazax. No
record would remain of anything. Thousands of years of knowledge would
be lost in an instant.
The program in place, Ibna turned and ran. Waiting for him on the
roof, he knew, was the shuttle that would take him to the spaceport. From
there, his family’s cruiser, the Syd, as well as the Manda and the Hurwana,
would escape from Mecatol City and begin the long journey to their new
home.
As he stepped out onto the roof, the engines of a tiny cargo shuttle
whirred to life. The hatch opened as he approached and within moments
they had left the Hall of Cartography behind.
A voice crackled over the shuttle’s comms channel. “Your orders,
councilor?”
Ibna leaned back into his seat, drawing his robes close around him.
“Unchanged,” he said. “There can be no record.”
Ibna Vel Syd did not turn to see the Hall of Cartography as it was
wracked from within by explosions. Later, when the Syd and its escorts took
off from the spaceport, he did not turn to bid Mecatol City, the city of his
youth, a fond farewell.
Instead, he confined himself to his quarters and spoke to no one.
Mecatol Rex was no longer his home, nor was it the home of his people.
Instead, Ibna Vel Syd turned his eyes upon himself, and he saw only
darkness.
 SHATTERED EMPIRE filling cups and providing light meals to a crowd buzzing with intrigue and
ploys of power.
Instead, tonight the room was dimly lit, strangely hot, and only the
At the end of empire, a faint wind rustled through Salai’s robes. It was
inner circle of Salai’s councilors was present.
a calm, warm evening, and the bruised purple outline of the setting sun was
And the visitor.
still visible on the horizon. An evening made for calm contemplation and
The stranger stood taller than even the Lazax. Entirely cased in a gold-
peace.
bronze metal, only its glowing eyes could be seen burning beneath an
Instead it was neither.
expressionless golden mask. Salai could feel the strange heat emanating
For most of his adult years, Salai had come to this balcony to breathe
from the creature, a pulsing, living heat, unlike any that Salai had known in
the clean air and admire the lights of Mecatol City. Yet tonight, the lights
the past.
were scattered and few, the usual bustling traffic was scarce, and the air was
The creature, somewhat clumsily in its heavy armor, bowed gently. Its
tainted with the acrid scent of burning and foreboding. Salai glanced to the
eyes, flickering with a living fire, dimmed in respect.
west, where distant columns of dark smoke still rose, obscuring the western
A servant brought Salai his translation device on a golden tray. Salai
stars.
placed the device over his ear. “Who are you?” Salai’s voice was kind.
“Your Highness?”
“I am Feramon Azh.” The voice of the stranger was like that of coals
Salai did not turn to greet the owner of the voice. It belonged to High
grinding in a furnace. “I am of the Gashlai people from distant Muaat.”
Councilor Verus Da Ishnu. The councilor knew his Emperor’s displeasure at
Salai spread his arms in the traditional welcome. “Be well received
being interrupted on his evening balcony stroll, yet for months Verus had
here on Mecatol. Even in these troubled times, the Empire is glad for your
interrupted him regardless. Salai gently shook his head and sighed. He could
arrival and your presence!”
hardly blame his old friend. These were difficult times.
“We ask for your help,” the Gashlai began. “We are a people
“The fire continues.” The Emperor gestured towards the plumes of
enslaved.” The creature inched forward towards the emperor, its fiery eyes
smoke in the west. “It has been burning for months. Please tell me that we
pleading.
are making progress?”
The Emperor listened to the tale of the Gashlai and their mistreatment
Verus emerged from the doorway and approached his Emperor.
by the Jol-Nar. As the creature finished its tale, Salai moved towards it,
“They have contained the spread of the fire, but the work goes on. The Hall
reaching to touch its armor, but as he felt the boiling heat of the metal, he
of Cartography was vast, and our resources are now limited…”
slowly returned his hand to his side.
“The continuing call for reservists has drained our public sectors.”
“We are at war against the Hylar. We have no control over their
Salai shook his head. “Is that not what we tell the citizens?”
actions,” the emperor said. Across the room, councilors nodded their silent
It was a question that Verus Da Ishnu knew better than to answer.
agreement.
Verus felt a twang of the gnawing fear that had been growing within him
The disappointment in the eyes of the Gashlai was evident. “But you
since the Hall of Cartography was destroyed. The nagging fear of the
are Emperor! You are strong!” he continued. “You can free Muaat, and the
impossible.
Gashlai will help you in your war!”
“And Ibna?” Salai Sai Corian, the last Lazax Emperor, turned to his
A Lazax admiral came to whisper something in the Emperor’s ear, but
advisor.
Salai waved him away. “Our forces are hard pressed, Feramon. Despite my
“There is still no word of Ibna Vel Syd.” Verus didn’t understand or
compassion for your plight, we cannot spare even a single ship.”
appreciate the Emperor’s empathy for the renegade junior councilor. Even
“But you must help us!” The Gashlai inched forward again. “The hope
before his treason, Ibna’s presence had become destructive in court. His
of my people rests with my mission here. You cannot fail them!”
nervous outcries, bordering on panic, had been far from useful in procuring
“I am sorry, my friend.” The Lazax Emperor was powerless. It seemed
any long-term solution to the crisis.
the whole galaxy was pleading for help, while truly it was the Empire that
“And his ships?” Salai glanced towards the stars, resuming his slow
needed help from the galaxy. This audience was over.
walk along the balcony. Verus followed.
The eyes of the Gashlai dimmed again in disappointment, but he did
“Still unaccounted for, I’m afraid. Our navy…”
not step back. “Wait!” There was a hint of tension in his voice, a taste of
“Yes, I know,” Salai sighed, “it is stretched thin.” His eyes seemed to
desperation. The creature touched a small control at his side, and with a hiss
glaze over as he studied the distant suns that shone in the Mecatol night sky.
of hot air a small door opened in his chest armor. The palace guards sprung
“Ah, Ibna. Where have you gone?” Salai lowered his eyes to look at his old
to the Emperor’s side.
friend. “I envy him, Verus.”
Slowly the Gashlai brought out an engineering drafting device from
“This traitor?” Verus could barely contain his frustration. “Rats flee a
the compartment. “If you save the Gashlai, we will give you this.”
sinking ship, my Lord, not a captain!” As he spoke, he immediately regretted
Salai took the device and glanced at the Hylar schematics. The
his words. The acidic fear within him twitched again.
Emperor gestured for the admiral to come forth once more. Their eyes grew
The Emperor’s lips curled in stark amusement. “Is our ship sinking,
in surprise as they realized what the schematic meant.
Verus?”
“The Hylar are building this monstrosity?” Salai asked.
“Of course not, my Lord! I certainly did not…”
The Gashlai blinked and nodded. “My people have been slaving to
“What I mean, Verus, is that I envy the freedom of the rat.”
build this vessel for years,” the creature sadly announced.
Verus paused. “Not words I would use at your dinner speech, my
The Emperor glanced at the admiral, who looked longingly at the
Lord.”
schematic and the powerful weapon it promised.
The Emperor burst into friendly laughter, his spirit raised for the
The Emperor was about to speak again when the door to the throne
moment. “No, I better not.” The Emperor took his friend’s arm as they
room sprang open with a clamor. Led by the High Commander of the Lazax
walked. “I am glad to employ so esteemed a councilor. Especially when he
forces, a group of naval and diplomatic personnel burst into the room. Their
saves me from rhetorical folly involving vermin.”
faces were grave, and hints of perspiration beaded on their foreheads. Wary
Verus smiled back, it was good to see Salai jest; it did not happen
of the alien in the center of the room, the High Commander approached
often.
Verus, whispering news in the councilor’s ear.
They continued their walk in a rare moment of silence. The Emperor’s
“Yes?” Salai inquired. Something was wrong.
smile soon faded. “I stand with the ship, Verus. Sinking or not. I stand with
“My Lord,” Verus began. “The Hacan and the N’orr… their entire
the ship!”
diplomatic contingents have secretly departed. Their districts are empty.”
“Of course, my Lord. And we stand with you.”
“But why?” Salai demanded. But as he looked into the face of the
The Emperor nodded. “Well, Verus. Will you please tell me why you
High Commander, he knew. “We are betrayed?”
interrupted my evening walk this time?”
The High Commander only lowered his eyes, deep embarrassment in
his face.
***
Salai moved calmly to the great western window. As he approached
the glass, the first bomb fell, splitting the night in yellow and orange. Hard
Verus led the Emperor into the throne room. On a normal night, the
shadows flared across the room. In the night skies above, Salai could see the
room would be bustling with councilors, ambassadors, military officers, and
emerging outlines of the Sol fleet. Like a vast swarm of black birds, the
representatives from every corner of the galaxy. Court staff would be busy
vessels soon shrouded the stars.
 Salai turned to the people in the room. They looked longingly at him,
as if some secret legacy of the Imperial blood would spring forth and
vanquish the enemy. Instead they saw only tears.
Salai moved calmly to the Gashlai, who was clearly shaken over the
sudden events. “Go home, friend Feramon. I hope that you and your people
find a safe way out of the destruction in the years ahead. If you survive this
night, tell your people that they must carve their own destiny.”

The last Emperor returned the engineering device to the creature. Placing
his hand emphatically on its metallic arm, Salai ignored the instant blistering
of his skin. “This knowledge is too late for us. Keep it. It may yet benefit
your people!”
The Gashlai quickly retreated, the room palpably cooling at his
departure. Another explosion shook the city and the imperial tower
trembled. The emperor tore the Imperial chain from his neck, precious
metals and gemstones spilling onto the floor. “This twilight imperium is no
more. Save your families.”
The others in the room came alive with a sudden panic, most rushing
blindly to the doors. “Remember the peace of the emperors!” Salai shouted
after them.
As the echo of his words rang through the room, a sharp sound rang
through the low rumble of bombardment. The High Commander, having
discharged his service pistol on himself, instantly collapsed. His blood slowly
soaking into the Imperial rugs. Salai hardly noticed.
Verus came to his Emperor’s side for the last time. Together the two
stood in the trembling tower, silently witnessing a bloom of fires grow in
their city like a garden of destruction.
The next wave of bombardments destroyed the imperial palace and
everyone therein.
 THE TWILIGHT WARS BEGIN
EMIRATES OF HACAN
“For a trader to flourish beyond current successes, he must embrace change.
For it is change that originates both source and market, opening the void
between them where the merchant prospers. Yet one must beware: despite
innovative contracts, monopolizing conditions, or clever manipulation of price
and supply, any lucrative exploit between economic attractors will in time
lessen, and ultimately close. The wise merchant therefore always must look
to the trade winds that favorably replace an existing product with a fresh
opportunity.”
– Excerpt from “Market Cycles” by Quieron Roban II
Through their widespread trade networks, the Hacan leadership have
long sensed the impending upheaval in the fabric of the Empire. Thus far, it
has not overly concerned them; as a general rule, upheaval is not anathema
to the general trade, only to certain goods and the pricing of others.
What does concern the Hacan, however, has been increased Lazax
reliance on trade embargoes as punishment to dissenters. Through most of
the Empire’s trading history, the costs of breaching Lazax trade restrictions
were sufficient to halt trade pursuits in affected regions. However, in recent
decades where no less than three major civilizations had been declared non-
fabrica ports of call, the scales were shifting.
Those broad Imperial embargoes against Sol, Jol-Nar, and Letnev had
sent a deep chill through the galaxy’s commercial activity. For the first time
in ages, significant segments of Hacan cargo haulers were sitting idle, and the
reduction in transaction velocities had forced the financier tribes to make
cuts in both short-term funding and broader investments, further dampening
commercial activity.
Though the teachings of Roban II embrace the virtue of market
change, they are short on guidance for the merchant himself as an active
agent of change. The current Quieron, Waech Sla, has concluded the Hacan
must become such agents, while staying true to their old creeds whenever
possible.
As the Sol fleet rushed towards Mecatol, it did so relying on Hacan
trading fleets for its logistical needs. Yet, to the Federation’s impending
surprise, the Hacan do not consider Sol their only customer in the matter of
the Mecatol siege. With complete control over shipping routes to the Gul
system and the sole purveyor of supplies to Mecatol’s surface, the Hacan are
not inclined to turn down lucrative offers from invested parties. In fact,
Waech Sla ponders what gains would lie in a greater change; one in which
the Hacan took the reins of the Empire and led the galaxy to prosperity
through commerce.
BARONY OF LETNEV
In the third deep of Arc Prime, Vvlos Samrac XVII, the Baron of Letnev,
has awaited the Days of Reckoning with ill-contained wroth. Ever since he
slit the throat of his father at age 19, Vvlos had presided over a populace as
near to revolt as to starvation. The Baron is keenly aware that the shadows
may soon leap for his own throat, should he not manage to improve the lot
of the Letnev and feed their ambition for glory and conquest.
When his father burned the ancient papers of submission, in the wake
of the Quann Conflict nearly seventy years prior, the old man expected a
military response from the Lazax. Such a response would have allowed
Vvlos’ father to unite the sparring Letnev dynasties, and – more importantly
– given him more direct authority over the Cimm Fenn: the powerful Letnev
security force whose assassins and operatives infiltrated nearly every
echelon of the Empire.
Instead, the tolerable Lazax hit the Barony with a range of cowardly
trade embargoes and out-planet asset seizures. Unlike the Sol Federation
(who had also abdicated at that time), such measures bit the Letnev deep.
Despite its incredible metallurgical wealth, Arc Prime suffered from chronic
foodstuff and water shortages, and worse, the unstated ambitions of its
warrior nobility.
Only a few short months ago, by word of the Cimm Fenn masters,
Vvlos learned of Sol’s assault on Mecatol Rex. In this, Vvlos tasted the day
long-awaited. With only months to spare, the Baron wasted no time. As the
Humans would strike their dagger into the heart of the Empire, Letnev
raiders would be ready to assault vital neighboring systems. Here they would
reap food sources and slaves, bolstering the Letnev engine of war that Vvlos
meant to unleash on the galaxy.
While his ambition far exceeds the conquest of a single planet, Vvlos
understands that ceding a trophy such as Mecatol Rex to the Humans would
be unwise. To counter the Sol power-grab, Vvlos has, with the support of the
Cimm Fenn, smuggled hundreds of capable operatives and thousands of
Letnev special forces to the surface of Mecatol Rex. Secretly encased in
shipping containers, or covertly undercover in Mecatol City, they await the
Days of Reckoning. Should the situation warrant additional attention, the
Baron has arranged for military transportation to Mecatol Rex by means of
the Hacan Gisnada group. Hungry for access to the metals of Arc Prime, the
opportunist felines have guaranteed safe delivery of additional Letnev forces
despite, “possible objections by third parties.”
The days foreseen are surely at hand, and when the hour finally
comes, the Baron of Letnev intends to plunge a spear deep into the side of
an already wounded galaxy.
FEDERATION OF SOL
Throughout history, the simian species of Humans has reacted
adversely to bondage or imposed limitation of any kind. Since they joined
the Galactic Council during the third millennia of the Lazax Empire’s
expansion, Humankind found vassalship to the Lazax an uncomfortable
coupling at best.
During the Age of Dusk, as the Empire’s expansion began to lessen and
territorial assertions of the Great Races began to collide with those of others,
the Sol Federation were first among the discontented. The Lazax, largely
unconcerned, sought to solve disputes between the Empire’s denizens by
what was perceived as increasingly inconsistent and arbitrary rulings.
Though Sol was not alone among the Great Races to begin serious
armament and large-scale mobilization during the Age of Dusk, it was among
the most aggressive and blatant in violating imposed militarization limits.
The Quann Conflict and Maandu Edict were but the sparks that lit the tinder
of Sol’s rebellious predisposition. When the High Minister declared Sol’s
independence, he was greeted by universal support and jubilation by almost
every Jord state and Sol out-system colony.
The short-term abdication consequences were virtually non-existent.
The Sol administration had correctly guessed that little remained of the iron
will and fierce ideology that had made the Lazax the masters of the stars.
The once-formidable sovereignty of the Lazax had become bloated by vast
bureaucracies, and its military branches controlled by a quibbling Lazax
nobility whose wealth had grown beyond comprehension. A complacency
harvested by twenty millennia of unbroken rule had blinded the Lazax to the
cracks forming in the foundation of their Empire.
The Federation leadership knew Sol’s obstinacy would not go
unpunished forever. Eventually, the inbred behemoth that was the Lazax
Empire would bare its teeth, and even a fully-mobilized Sol Federation could
not hope to stand against the roused wrath of the Empire. Sol’s leadership
concluded they had little choice but to go on the offensive, hoping to pull
more races into abdication and stretch the Empire’s resources so far it would
tear itself apart. When the Jol-Nar’s headmasters offered Sol access to a
powerful new drive technology, Admiral Steen Grayson suggested the
unthinkable to the Sol leadership: a surprise strike at the heart of the Lazax
hegemony. A blow aimed to shatter the brittle stone that the Empire had
become.
In the year 73 AT, the Sol Federation’s 3 rd Expeditionary force,
consisting of more than 700 warships equipped with new Jol-Nar Type II
mass drives, furtively entered the Gul System and commenced their historic
attack on Mecatol Rex. Within hours, the Lazax Emperor was dead, the
Imperial administration in disarray, and the battle for Mecatol Rex begun.
UNIVERSITIES OF JOL-NAR
The Universities have been preparing for war since the Grand
Headmaster announced his people’s abdication before the Emperor’s
Mirritan almost fourteen years ago. The resignation came as a surprise to
the remaining members of the Galactic Council. Since their peaceful
annexation into the Empire more than six thousand years prior, the Hylar of
Jol-Nar had been people that would bend when pushed and retreat when
confronted. Resentful but practical, they placed a patient trust in the
Empire’s ever-increasing reliance on technologies harvested in the deep
laboratories of their oceanic home worlds. With that influence ever-growing,
the Universities bided their time.
At the height of the recent Quann Conflict, when two powerful
members of the Galactic Council – the Sol Federation and the Letnev Barony
– severed their ties to the Empire, the Jol-Nar headmasters carefully
observed the Lazax reaction. When no immediate reprisals or consequences
were served upon the rebels (other than harsh words and a few toothless dying curse of the Mahact has reached across the mists of time to punish
trade embargoes), the Jol-Nar felt it was safe to act. their usurpers at last.
Over the centuries, long desirous of a more prominent and powerful As news of the atrocities on Mecatol Rex spread, the pillars of Lazax
place in the galaxy, the headmasters came to conclude that only the power across the galaxy began to splinter. No less than nine distant relatives
dismantlement of the galaxy’s bloated central authority, the Lazax Empire, of the Sai Corian dynasty, none residing on Mecatol Rex, have declared
would allow the Hylar to forge their own destiny among the stars. As the themselves the rightful heir to the Imperial throne.
influence of the Jol-Nar’s near-ubiquitous technologies spread, their wealth As stars in a darkening sky, reports of local uprisings seem to appear
increased by lucrative profit-sharing arrangements with tens of thousands of everywhere. Several Great Races have initiated major military provocations,
Jol-Nar expatriate guilds across the galaxy, each licensed to install and service or worse, as in the case of the Sol Federation, have declare outright war on
proprietary technology. No longer a poor and fragile civilization, the Jol-Nar the Empire. As chaos gains momentum, the disparate, but still mighty Lazax
had ascended to great stature. military has found itself without a clear chain of command. Some fleets and
After Jol-Nar’s abdication, even as they publically engaged in ancient powerful PDF commanders have declared themselves for one Imperial
territorial disputes with the Federation of Sol, the headmasters secretly claimant or the other, but most Lazax military commanders have not yet
plotted with the Humans against their former masters. The clandestine allies taken decisive action. Many lean towards a declaration of galaxy-wide
aimed, in one audacious attack, to destroy the central Lazax command martial law, and the formation of strict Lazax military rule on Mecatol Rex
structure, perhaps even killing or capturing the Emperor himself, landing a until it is returned to Lazax control and an Imperial succession firmly in place.
direct blow that would unravel the fabric of the Empire. To this end, teams Although the Sol attack was masterfully coordinated and undoubtedly
of Jol-Nar engineers secretly installed prototype Type II mass-drives on the caused great injury to the Lazax, the resources of the Empire remain vast. On
Sol Federation’s 3rd Expeditionary Fleet. With this cutting edge technology, Mecatol Rex, the Lazax PDF commander, Gereon Sy Hern, has swiftly
the Sol fleet was able to circumvent the Imperial navy’s central garrisons and coordinated stiff resistance across several important sectors of Mecatol City.
patrols, an absolute requirement to mount a surprise attack against Mecatol By his orders, advance Lazax naval units have begun harassing the Sol
Rex itself. blockade, and columns of heavy mechanized units have been marshalled
As the bombs have begun to fall, the headmasters intend to unleash from under-city depots in support of the ground resistance. Swallowing
their own ambitions on Mecatol Rex and elsewhere. With the setting of the pride by necessity, Sy Hern has made clandestine arrangements with the
Lazax’s sun, they mean to show the galaxy that the Hylar are not to be Hacan for transportation and safe passage of Lazax reinforcements from the
underestimated ever again. Gul satellites of Jun and Semani. Most importantly, as enemy
bombardments continue unabated, most of Rex’s economy and crucial
XXCHA KINGDOM supply depositories remain in the hands of indigenous Lazax or Imperial
Domo Oolan has been greatly saddened by the sudden sour turn of sympathizers, intent on funneling as much support and wealth as possible to
events. The short-sighted attack on Mecatol Rex has threatened to undo not Sy Hern’s forces.
only his most important work, but the arduous preparations of his Gereon Sy Hern is aware the crisis has spread far beyond Rex, and he
predecessors. Centuries of careful planning, subtle suggestion, wise guesses the danger it poses may now be an existential one. He knows the
guidance, and accumulated goodwill. All wasted, all forgotten. Bodiless Empire will never be as it once was. That only through the perception of
casualties in the firestorm the short-lived races have unleashed on this holy control—exemplified by the mastery of Mecatol Rex—will his people survive
place of reason and communion. as a relevant power, or perhaps survive altogether.
Instead, events inexorably slide toward that which the Xxcha so
ardently have sought to avoid: the interminable darkness and devastation of
galaxy-wide civil war.
The Xxcha, philosopher-warriors and master diplomats, have long
recognized the dangerous degradation of stability in the galaxy around them.
In the center of this converging vortex sat the progressively flawed rule of
the Lazax. The legendary energy and vision of the Imperial race had, after
over twenty millennia of rule, receded to a state of complacency governed by
the blind arrogance of the entitled. Like a dying sun, the Lazax Empire now
burned a sullen, uncaring red; its waning heat belying the destructive nova it
would set off in death.
Ttepliren su Tteplitau. The ebb and the flow. As one, the Yystori. Ever
true, ever moving. The Xxcha believe those with sufficient patience can in
the Yystori hear the breathing of the universe itself. At its zenith lies glory
and decline, at its nadir death and rebirth. The Xxcha teach it is not the task
of mortals to still or to change the course of the Yystori, but rather it is the
responsibility of all sentience to lessen the painful effects of its churning.
As the Xxcha came to understand that the end of the Lazax Empire as
at hand, they began a tireless work towards its peaceful passing; to facilitate
a rebirth that would transition the galaxy into its next Ttepliren, a new age.
To this end, Xxcha diplomats subtly nudged the Lazax to cede powers to the
Galactic Council while they preached patience and compromise to the
galaxy’s other disparate, and increasingly discontented, powers. As the Age
of Dusk, a time of deceit and selfishness, seethed around them, the Xxcha
alone fought to deflect the growing spectre of all-out civil war that loomed
ahead.
As the nascent civil war now rages across Mecatol Rex, Domo Oolan is
determined to not let his people’s Domorkan, its greatest task, fail. He tells
his brethren to resist the voice of savagery calling from the abyss, and
instead redouble efforts of reconciliation and restraint. Even if the Xxcha
must use their powerful arms and hardened bodies to soften the blows to
the galaxy, it must be done. Even if the Xxcha should themselves be forced
to don the mantle of the Emperors, it must be done. For the greater good, it
must be done.

LAZAX EMPIRE
The unthinkable has become reality. The Emperor is dead, killed by
Sol bombs, and with him most of the Lazax supreme leadership. It seems the
 REX: FINAL DAYS OF AN EMPIRE desperate for food, had become feral and savage things. And there was the
endless Sol bombings. While the explosions could kill one well enough, they
left behind a broken landscape almost as deadly. In those death zones––at
They were caught on the 82nd day of hell.
the slightest touch of wind––deadly debris would fall from the burnt husks of
The shadowy skyline of the Tarmalin sector had been within sight, and
structures above. At times, entire elevated civblock platforms would
their grueling journey almost at an end. They’d been readying themselves
disappear underfoot, collapsing into the urban depths below, weakened
for the final trek to whatever safety friendly ground could provide, but a Sol
girders giving way with rusty pops. Even the weather had turned deadly,
patrol had caught them in the open, and that had been the end of it.
especially the devilish storms of glass-dust that followed the worst
They hadn’t hoped for much. Like water, hope was in short supply in
bombardments.
the devastation that had been the greatest city in the galaxy.
And there was the war. Many of the Great Races were now fighting
The Lazax body––tall, humanoid, with its four long arms and two long
each other in the city, like crows squabbling over the choice morsels of a
legs––didn’t require a particularly high level of daily sustenance. A few pieces
carcass.
of fruit or a bite of a high-protein wafer could nourish a Lazax for a day, and
On the 82nd day, the three had filled their bottles at the last wellhead.
was easy to carry besides. Water was a different story. Traveling through the
It was the seventh wellhead of their journey and they’d thought themselves
ruined city had been an exhausting and thirsty business, and the four friends
quite adept at the process by then. Perhaps they’d gone complacent,
were far from young.
perhaps the wellhead had been used by the Sol troops at the Tarmalin
Water is life was one of the fifteen miscu, truths, taught to them as
sector, or maybe they’d just gotten unlucky. Whatever the cause, they’d
children. Ironically, it was water that would be the death of them.
filled their bottles and had been leaving the facility when a Sol patrol had
The water that flowed in the city distribution network had been
spotted them. Two Sol craft, hovering above, had trained their lights on the
unsafe to drink. Too many of its pipes had been compromised, touched by
three old Lazax, blinding them.
chemical leaks or raw sewage where the Sols’ bombing, uncaring of city
Deino had acted instinctively. Of navy make and fiber, he was the
services, had destroyed civilian infrastructure. They’d learned this lesson the
strongest, and certainly the bravest of the three. As soon as the lights had
hard way on the 17th day when they’d all gotten violently sick from drinking
washed onto their position, he’d thrown down his load and leapt back into
city water. Gil, Deino, and Peor had recovered a few days later, but Eemin
the darkness.
had died from dysentery on the 20th day, and then they were three.
It hadn’t done any good. With an angry roar, the dual slugspitters of a
After Eemin’s death, they’d been forced to forage for safe liquid as
Sol craft had torn apart the shadows, Deino with them, and then they were
they traveled—in derelict shops, in coolers of abandoned civhabs, in
two.
automatic dispensers overlooked by looters. They’d even tried to cool steam
Gil and Peor had raised their hands in submission and their precious
from boiling city water, but were unable to capture sufficient amounts of
bottles had dropped. Water had spilled onto the street, and what little hope
liquid. The best source of safe water was the wellheads, the civic facilities
they’d had left spilled with it.
that pumped groundwater from the granite bowels of Rex to Mecatol’s
trillion citizens. So close to the source, the water was yet untouched by the
–––––––––––––
corrupting influence of war.
In his old life, the life he’d lived before Sol dreadnoughts had
The beginning of their journey had started many cycles before hell
unleashed hell on his world, Gil Sai Dinish had been a Lazax councilor at the
came to Rex. Before the water had turned sour and the sky had burned.
Civita Planetar. After they’d buried Eemin under a cairn of ceramic rubble, Gil
The four had been childhood friends, each of them a promising son of
had located a working data console. Here he’d used the privileges of a past
Lazax nobility. They’d been taught at the finest schools, eaten the finest
life to acquire the location of every wellhead in the zones surrounding the
foods, and grown to maturity in the finest quarters of Mecatol. Each of the
Imperial palace. Such was it that their journey to the Tarmalin sector had
four had come from families so ancient and wealthy that entire buildings on
taken them from wellhead to wellhead, an indirect path from one life-giving
their estates had been dedicated to family histories and heirlooms.
island to another in a sea of death.
Undoubtedly, the four friends were among the most privileged in the galaxy.
At the time of Emperor Salai Sai Corian, the great city of Mecatol had
Their race was that of the emperors, the Lazax, the eternal rulers of the stars,
stretched almost 4,000 miles east to west, and only slightly less from north to
and their future as bright as a sun.
south. It had been an endless jungle of mile-high structures, elevated
As they came of age, the four friends had separated by careers. The
walkways, platforms, and sparkling towers covering the surface in a near-
duties of the Empire were legion, and Lazax nobility of their stature expected
unbroken carpet of permacore and plasticon. Yet, as impressive as Mecatol
to serve the glory of the Emperor wherever needed. Peor San Welai became
had seemed from the air, the subcity that lay beneath its surface had been
a powerful ambassador to one of the Lenoten collectives. Deino Aya Fillin
almost as developed as the city above.
advanced far in the Imperial navy, and in time came to command his own
Where possible, the three friends had traveled through the subsurface
wing of cruisers in the 502nd fleet. Eemin Gu Xaxos advanced to the role of
sectors and thoroughfares. The journey had taken them through cavernous
section commander in the Mecatol Planetary Defense force before following
halls—some hot and sooty from topside fires—along wide tunnels lit only by
his father’s comfortable footsteps as a senior stakeholder in one of the eight
fading emergency sconces, and through smoldering craters where the
Kenatar—the Lazax industrial conglomerates whose holdings and industry
bombing had penetrated so deep as to expose the levels below. At times, the
stretched across the stars. Of the four childhood friends, only Gil Sai Dinish
topside fires had burned so hot they’d been forced to descend into long-
stayed on Rex through his whole career, first serving as junior administrator
abandoned sub-levels. For a stretch of days they’d even been forced as far
in the Cor, and later as an emissary of the Emperor to the Civita Planetar.
down as the upper chambers of the Old Deep. In that pitch black darkness,
As all things in the universe, the four grew older. When they’d entered
they’d felt their way through ancient warrens of causeways and habitats
that uncomfortable age which lies past the peak of one’s career yet before
bored below Mecatol millennia ago. It had been a dangerous course. In many
retirement, three of them had received calls to serve the Emperor’s
regions of the Old Deep, the air was poisonous, and a wrong turn could find
administration on Rex. Deino was offered a role as tactical adviser to an
the unwary traveler lost in some subterranean wilderness like the Catacombs
Admiral serving on the Emperor’s council of war. Eemin was to become
of the Primals, the Starless Desert, or worse.
elderman in the Emperor’s industrial committee, and Peor took the position
Closer to topside, they’d frequently come across great atriums filled
of senior attendant to one of the thirteen Mirritan, the Emperor’s personal
with refugees—mostly mistrustful and hungry people who had fled the
ambassadors to the Galactic Council.
topside for the dubious safety of the subcity. The refugees had pieced
Gil had remained an emissary to the Civita Planetar. His lifelong career
together ragged shelters from whatever materials they could scavenge,
on Mecatol had made him a well-connected individual, with comrades in
forming large, shadowy shantytowns. Once, the three travelers had come
hundreds of bureaucracies, and favors owed in many more. The other three
across a long chamber which housed a village of the dead. Gil guessed the
suspected, with good reason, that it was Gil’s subtle machinations that had
topside ventilation ports had been blocked by rubble, and after a few days
brought them back together on Rex in the twilight of their years.
the refugees’ cooking fires had poisoned the air, asphyxiating the hall’s
As they’d taken their new positions on Rex, they’d enjoyed their
inhabitants. The smell had been ghastly.
reunited camaraderie, their lofty positions at the Imperial palace, and their
Aboveground, even greater dangers lurked. In their region of the city,
roles as the senior patriarch on their family estates.
Sol patrols were to be most feared, but a thousand things could get one
Then had come Eemin’s clandestine meeting in the clid gardens.
killed in the new Mecatol. Gangs of looters that would kill first and steal
later. Packs of flying ruvar birds that, driven mad by the poisoned rains and
 –––––––––––––
After Gil and Peor surrendered in the courtyard of that seventh
wellhead station, they were cuffed and taken onboard one of the Sol flyers.
As they’d flown, their dying city passing underneath them, their legs had
ached in remembrance of painful leagues walked and now quickly erased in
the jet-wash of the flyer.
Their destination was one of the elevated warehabs near the Sallab
slums—a monstrous construct recently converted to a Sol penitentiary.
Spindly guard towers had been raised along the outer edges of the complex,
and a squadron of Sol airborne gunships patrolled its perimeter like angry
insects. When their craft approached, a gunship escorted them to one of the
many freight piers that extended from the construct. As they approached for
landing, Gil glimpsed a Sol landing zone to the south. There, a massive
freighter was preparing to dock while columns of Sol troops and military
supplies were streaming from the gaping loadport of another. Gil swore the
freighters displayed the Hacan, not Sol, insignia.
Upon landing, a terse Sol corporal took their names and positions on a
filthy data-tablet. Then they were stripped, submerged in some foul-tasting
chemical cleaning agent, dressed in grey prison robes, and each supplied
with a fiberwool blanket of some unidentifiable dark color. Four guards then
took them roughly in arm and brought them to their cell.
The cell was really more of a hall: a great metal-walled room filled to
near capacity by hundreds of occupants, mostly Lazax civilians. As Gil and
Peor were shoved into the cell, few inmates seemed to notice. Of those that
did, none seemed to care.
Their new home had no beds, no bunks, no furniture at all to speak of.
Other than the dull metal walls and the permacore floor, the only notable
feature was the ceramic sheds that allowed inhabitants to relieve themselves
in privacy. The shed’s biowaste containers were emptied only every four
rotations, and the stench slowly accumulated to one that made Gil gag.
Then the containers were emptied and the cycle of accumulating stench
repeated itself all over again.
Food was served twice a day, each food ration accompanied by a small
container filled with tasteless water. While the bland food sufficed, the
amount of liquid was nowhere near enough to properly sustain a Lazax body.
After a few weeks of incarceration, inmates slowly became dehydrated, their
eyes and cheeks sinking, their tongues swelling.
–––––––––––––
They’d meet during the hour of the second moonset, the humdrum of
merrymaking a muffled drone in the background. On the eve of every tenth
rotation, the Emperor would host a festive gathering for the Empires’
persona vitalis. Senior staff, the greater nobility, and the highest ranking of
the ambassadors to the Galactic Council would mingle casually across the
entirety of the palace grounds. It was no coincidence that Eemin had planned
their meeting for such a night. With the socializing, the secret dealings, and
the copious layers of intrigue bred in the palace on such occasions, few
would pause to wonder why four senior statesmen with far-flung
responsibilities would congregate in one of the many palace gardens for idle
conversation.
This particular night had been a cool one. Moisture had gathered on
the colorful flowers and the sharp leaves of the clid trees from which the
garden took its name. They’d found Eemin standing by the balustrade on the
eastern side; he had been visibly uncomfortable.
Far below, down and beyond the palace walls, the river Dorus moved
incessantly south—a liquid slab of black marble, its inky blackness intercut by
frequent whitecaps and the gusts of spray against midstream outcroppings.
From the clid gardens, if one looked up from the Dorus, the vastness and
lights of Mecatol would stretch as far as one could see in every direction.
Dominus Island, on which the Imperial palace was built, had once been a
remote river islet, but the city had reached and bridged the Dorus long ago,
enveloping the palace.
So great was Mecatol, the Imperial city, that its sky never darkened.
Upon the setting of the Gul, the ambient glow of ten trillion lights would soak
the sky in a lustrous amber haze that could be seen far into space. Above the
tangle of buildings scurried unending city traffic—flying vehicles of every size,
each on some business or pleasure in the greatest city the galaxy had ever
known.
Gil had seen the view a thousand times before and hadn’t given it a
second thought that night; only the great plume of smoke that rose in the far
northeast had given him pause. Even after several weeks, the great Hall of
Cartography was still burning. Ibna Vel Syd had set it ablaze and hightailed it
to the stars, stealing one of the finest of the Emperor’s cruisers in the
process. Vel Syd had been called “the doomsayer” or “the fearmonger” by his
peers. Now he was referred to simply as “the traitor,” and the once-proud
name of Vel Syd was spat upon and mentioned only with righteous scorn.
When they’d all arrived, Eemin had turned to greet them pleasantly.
Then he had taken a deep breath and said in a firm whisper, “Vel Syd may
have been right!”
Diplomats and councilors both, Gil and Peor had reacted to Eemin’s
words with expressionless caution. While they’d glanced at each other with
calm they did not feel, Deino had responded more forcefully. “Are you mad?”
he’d hissed between his teeth. Deino was a military man and he’d been
outraged at the loss of a cruiser to Vel Syd’s cowardly flight, not to mention
the great loss of life at the Hall of Cartography.
Only the bonds of a lifelong friendship had kept Deino from storming
off during those first minutes. Yet, by the time Eemin had made his case,
even the old rear-admiral stood pale and taut in disbelief.
Eemin, with his connections to both Imperial administration and
private industry, had come across a disturbing sequence of information.
Facts that, when followed, had led the old Lazax businessman to a dark
conclusion.
He’d told them how Mecatol’s Hylar freeunions perhaps were not as
free from University influence as thought. When the Jol-Nar headmasters
had abdicated from the Empire some seventy years ago, the Lazax had begun
to appreciate how addicted the Empire was to Hylar expertise. The great
majority of datanets, robotics, and even propulsion technologies, had
emerged from the watery laboratories of the Hylar, and had been
maintained under lucrative service arrangements with University unions.
After the Universities of Jol-Nar had resigned from the Galactic
Council, many Hylar unions and expatriate enclaves had declared themselves
loyal to the Emperor in return for amnesty and rich contracts. While those
“freeunions” were under careful observation during the first few decades of
the conflict, in time they’d become an accepted and moderately trusted part
of the Empire.
“Why, in the last six cycles, have freeunion populations in Mecatol
dwindled by almost half?” Eemin had asked, showing them immigration
statistics illustrating how curious numbers of Hylar women and children had
left Mecatol. Not in droves, but in a steady trickle; not in numbers that would
raise suspicion, except viewed over time.
“Who maintains our defense systems?” Eemin had asked rhetorically,
glancing at the still-angry Deino. It was common knowledge that
maintenance of most military emplacements for centuries had been a joint
effort between the Lazax military and freeunion contractors.
Gil had cleared his throat and spoken. That morning he’d returned
from the Adminus Mecatol, where the three largest freeunions had declared
a strike. During the past year, freeunion leaders had been seeking expansion
of their charter, their demands aggressive, almost obstinate. “As if
engineered to force a strike,” he’d muttered.
Eemin had nodded knowingly and continued. He’d shown them how
the administrations of both the Hacan and N’orr embassy quarters had been
reduced to skeleton crews. “Why are they leaving Mecatol?” He’d asked as
more of a statement than a question. “What do they know that we do not?”
Deino had become visibly nervous when Eemin suggested the decade-
long state of hostility between the Sol and Jol-Nar rebels had been clever
theater to create a pretense of conflict. “If they are near all-out war, why
have Sol warships been docking at Jol-Nar shipyards?” Eemin had shown
them supply manifests and classified subcontractor work orders from his
industry connections.
Peor had interrupted gently, calmly concluding that a conspiracy of
such scale would have been impossible to keep secret from the Empire.
“Why?” Eemin had countered. “Can our eyes see when we do not look? Can
our ears hear when we do not listen?” Eemin had waved his arm in the
direction of the distant smoke plume. “Only Vel Syd dared to question Lazax
hegemony. He was met with mockery and dismissal. Was he the one-eyed
man in the land of the blind?”
There were other facts and figures, subtle snippets of information one
could easily dismiss as trivial, but when seen together formed a mosaic of
troubling visage. Storm clouds were gathering at all sides of the Empire, and
few seemed to have noticed.
“My friends,” Eemin had taken them by their shoulders and whispered
emphatically, “I have come to fear that our Empire is on the brink of collapse.
That Rex itself may be in imminent danger.”
 They’d stood in silence after that. Sounds of careless laughter,
superficial conversation, and the clinking of expensive glass had continued
unabated from the corridors, halls, and garden terraces around them. After
some time, Deino had said quietly, “I cannot believe it. It’s inconceivable!”
Eemin had nodded sadly, then he’d turned to Deino and asked,
“Where is the Mecatol fleet?”
Deino’s eyes had dropped, a flicker of trepidation passing over his
features as the last wall of his disbelief crumbled. Navy movements were
confidential, and Deino couldn’t betray his post by answering the question,
but his reaction was all the answer they needed.
The Mecatol fleet was nowhere near Mecatol.
–––––––––––––
“Here’s another one!”
Gil was jarred from the memories by one of the shock-prods the Sol
guards used to control and corral the prisoners; ‘cutors, they called them.
One of the guards had a particular dislike for the elder statesman and
seemed to take perverse pleasure in counting the blue-yellow welts he’d so
amply provided on Gil’s arms. Gil had come to think of the man as “Scar” for
the deep fissure that crossed the man’s left brow and had left him with a
blind, milky eye. “Here’s another one!” he’d growl in accented univoca,
followed by a painful kiss of his ‘cutor, a cruel grin splitting his ugly primate
face, white eye shiny with glee.
Except for the daily inspection and Scar’s pointless punishment, the
stale days of imprisonment simply passed from one into the next. No news
came from the outside world, and the mood of the inmates did nothing if not
deteriorate. Some wept, many slept, a few talked in low voices, but most
just passed the days in silence with blank, dehydrated stares. On rare
occasions, nearby bombardments were felt rather than heard, the faint
tremors their only reminder that the universe was alive and hurting around
them.
After more than a fortnight, despite Gil’s misgivings, Peor decided to
raise a complaint about the water rationing and its deleterious effects. A few
concerned prisoners reminded Peor that it was generally considered a poor
idea to speak to guards or detention staff. Not only was dialogue rarely
returned, but the presumptuous speaker would often receive a healthy
‘cutor poke or two. Worse, anyone in near proximity would likely be ‘cuted
as object lessons.
Gil reminded Peor that on the day they’d arrived, a woman had asked
the guards to be moved to the hall where her children were kept. “They’re
afraid of the dark,” she had pleaded, “and they need their mother.” The
guards had answered with their simian laughter and then ‘cuted her so badly
she’d lost her mind. Afterward, the poor woman would just sit facing the
wall, hugging her knees and whispering repeatedly, “They’re afraid of the
dark. They’re afraid of the dark…”
Peor would hear none of it, and insisted on trying to improve their lot.
Two other elder Lazax, whom Gil didn’t know, decided to join Peor in
his request. The three stood together near the double entry door, waiting for
the staff to enter for the scheduled emptying of biowaste containers. “We
request to discuss the water situation with your officer,” Peor said when the
staff finally arrived, laden with suction equipment. The two other elders had
nodded solemnly in solidarity. As expected, the accompanying guards ‘cuted
them until they were sobbing on their knees.
After the guards thought the three obstinate Lazax to be sufficiently
cowed, they waved for the sanitation staff to proceed. But Peor slowly
returned to his feet and said calmly, “I think you misunderstood me: We
need to discuss the water situation with your officer.”
Peor’s defiance surprised the guards and prisoners both; it surprised
even Gil. As the guards moved to ‘cutor Peor again, many prisoners rose in
disapproval, hands closing into fists.
Reading the sudden change in situation, the senior guard called for his
comrades to hold back. Then he recalled the sanitation staff, and together
they left the hall in quick step. The waste containers remained full and the
stench was at an all-time high, but even so, Gil noticed a few rare smiles.
A few hours later, the sour-faced corporal who’d admitted them
entered with a large contingent of guards. He glanced impatiently at the
prisoners and then called loudly, “Who wants to discuss the water situation
with me?” Still shaking from the earlier punishment, Peor and the two other
elders rose slowly and approached the human. When they finally stood
towering before him, he looked them up and down with contempt. Then,
without warning, he drew his service pistol and shot each of the three in the
head.
The hall erupted in a clamor, inmates cowering from the unexpected
shots, screaming in fear, pleading for mercy. Peor, who in life had been so
graceful, collapsed to the floor with a fleshy slap, and then they were one.
After the guards pulled the bodies out of the hall, the corporal, pistol
still smoking in hand, gave the quailing prisoners a hateful look of warning.
Then he spun on his heels and marched out without another word.
–––––––––––––
After their meeting in the clid gardens, his three friends had come to
share Eemin’s concerns. Regretfully they’d not known what to do with the
knowledge. Ibna Vel Syd had been a lone voice in the wilderness. He’d
warned the Emperor, he’d warned the inner circle, and he’d warned the
council of military commanders. He’d urged the need to change, and he’d
advocated for both prudence and action. In turn a charismatic and forceful
individual, Vel Syd had attempted to change the course of the Empire and
he’d failed. Then he’d burned every trace of his plans and destination, and
abandoned his race to rot in their complacence.
Despite their high birth, the four friends could not hope to match the
access or power that Vel Syd had enjoyed. He’d been their senior by far, a
personal friend and councilor to the Emperor, and still none had listened. In
leaving as he did, Vel Syd had sown such enmity within the inner circle and
the military command to his ideas, that presenting the information Eemin
had gathered would surely fall on deaf ears.
The four had lamented for weeks on their course of action. They’d
sent their closest family members off-planet “for relaxation,” but were at a
loss as to how to convince their superiors of a looming danger of a nature
they couldn’t directly identify. Deino had advocated they simply run the risk
of being declared anathema and forcefully present their findings to anyone
that would listen. The three others had found such strategy too risky for their
careers. Instead, they’d fretted and weighed their options, waiting for some
moment of opportunity, perhaps some outside event that would support
their concerns and give them a window for action.
When that event did occur, it had been entirely too late.
–––––––––––––
About a month after Peor’s death, the prisoners were woken in the
night.
The heavy doors slammed open and a dozen guards burst into the hall,
shouting loudly for the inmates to rise. Anyone too slow or too sleepy got a
taste of the ‘cutor. Then the prisoners were paraded out of the hall, through
a maze of metal corridors, down staircases, and finally into a brightly lit
atrium where other groups of Lazax inmates were being assembled. All were
dressed in the same dirty grey robes, eyes glazed from sleep and fear.
Though the bright atrium was many times larger than the incarceration hall
from which they’d come, it was filling rapidly as prisoners by the hundreds
kept arriving in a steady stream.
After what Gil assumed was the last prisoner group had joined them,
they were herded into long lines and their feet shackled. When the jailers
had completed the shackling, two great metal doors on the far side of the
hall were opened. With ‘cutor prodding and a salting of shouts, the guards
soon had the lines moving through the doors and a long march began.
In the hours of walking that followed, they crossed hall after
enormous hall, corridor after long corridor. After some time, Gil was sure
they’d left the prison complex, but the guards gave no evidence of their
destination. They passed through halls untouched by war, while others were
nothing more than blackened shells. On occasion they crossed into the open
where a taste of sulfur on the wind and smoke columns on the horizon
reminded them war was still raging in the city. Then they’d invariably enter
another civblock structure, which meant more halls and more dilapidated
corridors. In the end, Gil lost count.
After nearly a day of marching, they arrived at a wide set of stairs.
After a short rest, more for the benefit of the guards than the prisoners, they
were coaxed up the steps. Upward they went, under the intermittent glow of
faint light sconces. Upward, as a thousand footsteps echoed in the staircase
shaft, thumping and scraping like the slow shuffle of some alien monster. Up,
up, up toward some high destination.
Gil shuffled forward and upward, the magnetized shackles at his feet
humming and his thighs burning with every step. The long miles of walking to
the Tarmalin sector had given him a wiry strength he’d never possessed in his
old life. Even so, the endless climb was hell on his legs.
 Every few minutes Gil would hear the sudden slap of a pistol,
sometimes ahead, sometimes behind. He’d invariably pass the results of
those ahead––corpses that had crudely been kicked aside to give way to the
climbing column of prisoners.
Up, up, and up. Gil’s world narrowed until it consisted of three things
only: the next step, the burning in his legs, and his memories.
–––––––––––––
One early evening, a Sol fleet had struck Rex from deep space without
warning. Equipped with new mass-drives developed by the Jol-Nar, the Sol
navy had taken the Lazax high command by complete surprise. As a result of
freeunion strikes and other sabotage, great portions of Mecatol’s planetary
defense systems were off-line at the time of attack, including those of the
Imperial palace. Only a few sectors managed to form proper shielding and
defense.
In the Imperial palace, chaos had ensued. Palace staff, soldiers, and
bureaucrats had run in every direction. Others had frozen where they stood,
gaping at the impossible events unfolding around them. Servant automatons
had scurried this way and that, sensors overloaded by the tumult and
conflicting commands.
In case of some disaster, the four friends had planned to use Gil’s
shuttle to return to their home district. Unfortunately, their plans hadn’t
included a noble that, desperate to escape the palace, had crashed his craft
into a docked luxury barge and converted the landing platform holding Gil’s
shuttle into a fiery wreck. Instead, they’d been forced to take a droma-lift
down to the island surface and there managed to secure space on one of the
few broadhull water ferries that supplied the Imperial palace by way of the
Dorus river.
As the ferry had pushed off against the pier, hundreds had already
been swarming on the docks, all desperate for a place on one of the few
departing ferries. Gil had seen several people fall into the rapid waters,
shoved heedlessly off the pier by the throbbing crowds.
They’d been about a third of the way across the river when the first
bomb had struck the island and the resulting shock wave had hit with
unforgiving force. A group of passengers, three servants and a noblewoman,
had been flung into the water as the swell from the explosion violently
shifted the ferry’s prow to the left, forcing the boat parallel to a rising wave.
As the wall of water grew, the boat had begun to tilt dramatically sideways
with the rising wave. Those passengers who managed to cling to something
—a railing, a vent, or a solid piece of machinery—avoided certain death in
the angry river. The rest plunged into the water like rotten fruit from a
shaken tree. Peor had nearly fallen. Just as he had been about to slide
screaming over the side, Deino had managed to grab him. For a minute, Peor
had hung in midair, clinging to Deino’s hands as the angle of the boat
continued to tilt. For a few dreadful seconds, the boat had loomed near
capsizing.
Then the boat had cleared the wave, and the deck had violently risen
to rejoin them. As the boat slid down the back of the first wave, the captain
had corrected the ferry’s angle to meet the second wave head on. The
resulting spray had taken another few passengers with it, but the boat had
held.
A few wet and grueling minutes later, the ferry had managed to finally
cross the Dorus. It inelegantly scraped against the permacore river barrier
much further downstream than its accustomed landing. The remaining
passengers, using an old line of steel rungs bolted to the barrier, had
clambered off the ferry onto a mostly abandoned riverside roadway. The
captain had climbed with them, abandoning the ferry to its own fate.
Upstream, the palace was burning. The great dome of the Emperor
had been cracked like an egg, and fire and smoke blazed from the large
fissure. Smaller conflagrations raged across the entirety of the island, and
walls were crumbling where mortar finally gave way. Gil had seen the clid
gardens in flame before they disappeared in a cloud of debris as their entire
wing of the palace crumbled into dust.
The sky had been thick with Sol military craft. Cruisers and frigates had
moved slowly across the horizon while flights of fighters roared angrily across
the sky. Far above in the evenfall light, great grey shapes of dreadnoughts
and carriers could be gleaned, their huge engines emitting pallid blue glows
in the darkening atmosphere. Panicked civilian traffic had skirted across the
skies, abandoning normal traffic routes as Sol warships indiscriminately fired
at all non-Sol vessels. The skies had been ablaze with burning transporters,
freighters, personal flyers, and all manner of non-military vessels, all
plummeting like orange rain toward the surface, tracing faint lines of smoke
in their dying wake. The downpour of doomed vessels impacted buildings,
antennas, landing platforms, or the planetary surface itself, where blooms of
fire and dull booms had seemed to emanate from everywhere at once.
A few planetary defense systems had come on-line. Far to the north,
in the direction of the Tarmalin sector, Gil had seen a huge Sol cruiser
repeatedly hit by plasma tracers from PDS emplacements. Burning and
breaking, the great cruiser began to tilt sideways and lose altitude. Like a
falling citadel, they saw it plunge to its death, the distance and size of the
craft making it look as if it were in slow motion. After the careening ship had
descended below view, a blinding flash and then a torrent of black smoke
had emerged from its faraway grave.
Around them, the population of Mecatol had been in disarray. Gil had
seen families hauling possessions into private flyers, only to be shot down as
they emerged into the traffic routes above. Many individuals had been
running, others looting, some just stood and stared at the skies. Some were
wounded, a few of those being attended, but many that couldn’t walk had
been left to bleed.
Then a swarm of Sol landing craft had emerged from one of the
carriers idling far above. Like heavy beetles, the craft had descended on the
Emperor’s smoking island and no defenses had stopped them. By that time,
the disparate group of ferry survivors had begun to scatter. Short of options,
and little wish to encounter the Sol forces that were landing on the Dominus,
the four friends had begun to walk. Their destination at first had been the
Ahain nobility sector, the home of their ancestral estates. While it had been
considered suitably close to the Imperial palace, the Ahain was still more
than 200 miles from Dominus Island. By air, this would have been a short
jaunt. By foot, through a war zone, they’d guessed it would take four old men
nothing less than twelve rotations to cover.
They’d walked during lulls in the bombardments, or when the
attention of the Sol forces had seemed at a sufficiently safe distance.
Sometimes, on the horizon, they’d seen the encouraging glow of shields and
the plasma tracers of PDS emplacements.
As the days passed, civilian airborne traffic had all but disappeared,
and only the constant to and fro of Sol military vessels had been seen in the
skies. The bombardments had continued unabated. Even for a fleet as vast as
the one Sol had sent to Rex, the Imperial city of Mecatol was much, much
greater yet.
The four had slept where they could. During the first few days, the
local citizenry had been surprisingly friendly, as if the attack had brought the
city together. Private citizens and shop owners had freely opened doors and
larders to the displaced citizens that walked the city.
But this camaraderie unfortunately did not last. As the Sol
bombardment continued and little to nothing was seen of either Imperial
forces or planetary administrators, anarchy had begun to take firm root.
What had been kindness and generosity was replaced by mistrust and
hoarding. As the days wore on, a grey despair had begun to set in the dying
city like gangrene in dying flesh.
On the ninth day of their walk, the four friends had found hospitality
from a shop owner who’d kindly agreed to take them in for the night. She’d
given them bowls of canned soup and a small bowl of pasteflakes. The four
had eaten greedily, particularly appreciating the reinvigorating salty broth.
A few other dislocated souls had been resting at the back of the shop.
Gil had struck up idle conversation with a dislocated family and learned with
dismay that they’d come from the Ahain sector. They’d described how the
ancient district had first been targeted by several Sol bombardments and
later by hordes of looters. Those estates that weren’t in ruins or burning had
been looted or occupied by the many citizen posses that were forming across
the city.
A wounded PD guardsman had been in the shop also. When he hadn’t
been coughing blood or drinking from a bottle of snada liquor, he’d told
them of how Lazax forces had managed to organize themselves in a few
sectors—that military frequencies were broadcasting summons to
guardsmen, police, or any loyal Imperial citizen willing to help repel the
cowardly assault. The Cor and the Fastness were two of such locations, and
so were the Tarmalin, Arbaxes, Bec, and Sai Salai sectors. The guardsman had
sworn that forward Lazax naval forces were trying to break the blockade, and
that some Lazax reinforcements had even managed to land in the Bec sector.
Of the fate of the Emperor or the central administration, he could say
nothing.
The four friends had hoped to join the guardsman in the morning, to
go wherever he was going. But the soldier had died of his wounds during the
night. Of those sectors the dead guardsman had mentioned, only the
Tarmalin was within reasonable distance of their current location. On foot, it
would be a journey that would take months, but it was what little hope they there was only air, and wind, and the blurry rush of the building moving past
had. him.
And so, on the tenth day, the four had begun their long journey to the The river will carry me downstream, Gil thought as he fell. The current
Tarmalin sector. would take him through his city on a last journey. Past the Emperor’s palace
and the sunlit balcony where he had spent so many of his afternoons. Past
––––––––––––– the park shores where he’d played as a child with his three friends. Then at
last, out of the city and out of history.
The endless climb upward continued for several hours, and Gil was In the end, the waters of the Dorus rose to take him, and then they
nearing the end of his strength. His legs were shaking so violently that he were none.
needed to prop himself against the corridor walls. Even the guards seemed
too tired to care. What waits at the top of the stairs? He wondered. Another
prison? Gil didn’t think so. He expected they were being moved to some high
platform for transportation. The higher the platform, the larger the shuttle.
At last the climb was over. They came to a landing and stopped. The
temptation to throw himself onto the floor in exhaustion was almost
unbearable, but the guards would have none of it. Any prisoner that tried to
sit or collapsed got treated with ‘cutors until they stood again or died where
they lay.
More prisoners kept arriving from behind—sobbing, shaking from
exertion—and the wide landing soon became crammed and hot. After more
waiting, the guards finally opened a set of heavy plasticon doors and took the
first batch of prisoners through. As the doors closed again, Gil felt a taste of
cool air; he imagined he heard the whine of engines as well. They’ll move us
off-world, he guessed. In his youth, he’d heard rumors of the infamous
prisons on Jord’s moon. A senior member of the administration won’t be sent
to a work-farm, he hoped. Surely Lazax forces across the galaxy would
regroup to punish the Humans for this brazen attack. When that happened, a
hostage like Gil would be valuable as Sol negotiated terms of peace.
When the doors opened again, Gil was pushed forward with the next
group. Pressed into a second corridor, the guards shoved them forward with
renewed urgency. The air was cool and breezy. Curiously, Gil didn’t hear the
expected drone of engines from an awaiting craft, instead he could hear only
the crackling of ‘cutors and the howling of outside winds.
Then Gil passed Scar, and the guard stopped him with a shove. It was
the first time that Gil hadn’t seen Scar smiling. Instead there was a different,
colder look on the guard’s face; his white eye shone not with glee, but with
some grim finality. Scar pressed something into Gil’s hand, a wallet of some
kind. Then someone from behind pushed Gil down the line and he never saw
Scar again.
The sound of ‘cutors discharging increased in intensity to a non-stop
crackle, their ozone smell filling the air. Gil glanced at the small wallet the
guard had given him. It wasn’t a wallet, but some form of light pictoframe.
Gil flipped the cover aside. Inside was a picture of a small human girl. Then
he finally understood.
There was no shuttle waiting for him.
As the corridor turned, Gil entered a wind-blown room awash in
broken furniture and rubble strewn across a mildewed industrial carpet.
Abandoned ruvar nests clung to the molding where the walls met the ceiling.
The most prominent feature of the room was an enormous hole that had
been torn into the side of the building. The steel girders and permacore walls
were twisted and bent like grass in the wake of a great beast. Gil guessed the
building had been grazed by one of the many craft that had been shot out of
the sky. Kernels of shattered plasticon glass covered the floor like sand,
crunching beneath his feet as he was shoved toward the opening. Through it,
Gil could see a grey sky and his city, skeletal and inanimate, stretching
beyond sight. A frigid wind was blowing, howling through the scarred
building like a broken-hearted animal.
The sound of the wind almost covered the screams of the falling.
Like the Sol cruiser he’d seen fall, Gil’s last seconds seemed to happen
in slow motion. A breathless clutch of fear gripped him, and the beating of
his two hearts drummed on his throat like hammers. The pictoframe of the
dead human girl dropped to the floor.
With ‘cutors red-hot and smoking, with kicks of heavy boots, the
guards pushed the line forward. Forward, through the hole and beyond their
custody. Gil saw those before him forced to the edge, their grey robes
catching the wind for a precious second before they were pushed from sight.
Sound seemed to leave the world.
As the end came, Gil didn’t feel the ‘cutors as they kissed his back and
thighs, prodding him forward, nor did he hear the yelling or the sound of the
wind. Then he was at the edge, the wind catching his ragged robes for a
fleeting moment. A mile below flowed the Dorus River. He saw the faint,
falling bodies of those who had walked before him. A final shove, and then
 TWILIGHT IMPERIUM by a Sol task force acting without imperial mandate, and the Quann Passage
was reopened.
Angered by the unilateral militancy of both Letnev and Sol, the
My name is Mahthom Iq Seerva.
Emperor attempted to consolidate his control by issuing the Maandu Edict: a
I am the Winnaran keeper of the Custodian Chronicle, and I write this
rule which would place all warships under direct Imperial supervision.
from the ancient Tower of Annals in old Mecatol City. Since inheriting the
The Maandu Edict was the stone that shattered the brittle Empire.
duties of the chronicle from my father, I have enjoyed the inspiring view of
After this proclamation, the Letnev, Sol, and Jol-Nar civilizations announced
our city from my wide windows; the great buildings, ancient towers, and the
their immediate withdrawal from the Council, drawing the galaxy into civil
bright lights of life that proudly stretch into the remote distance. Yet, like
war. The Quann Conflict marks the beginning of the Age of Twilight.
the shadow at my feet, I can never escape or forget the lethally finite borders
As civilization fought civilization – as a thousand territorial disputes
of this city. I cannot cast aside the fact that less than a thousand leagues
erupted over a few years – the Lazax desperately sought to assert their
from my tower, great shields protect us from the poisonous dust that is the
authority. Holding together a crumbling empire, Imperial fleets fought across
Sea of Desolation, the terrible wasteland that covers most of the planet.
the galaxy, but their power was ultimately spread too thin. In the seventy-
My people, the Winnarans, have kept this city safe for more than
third year of the war, an alliance of Sol, Jol-Nar, and Hacan launched a
three thousand years. Ever since the time of the Great Scourge, we have
surprise attack on Mecatol Rex itself. The last Lazax Emperor and his entire
been the custodians of the Imperial Throne, the Imperial Records, and the
family were killed during the first Sol bombardments, and no successor was
Galactic Council here on Mecatol Rex. We have indeed been faithful to the
named.
promise that we made to the last Emperor.
Of all the planets in the galaxy, no planet was more war-torn than
My hands tremble as I write this, for events are now unfolding which I
Mecatol Rex. Over the course of only a few years, the planet’s ecology was
believe to be the harbinger of great change. I foresee that our custodianship
ravaged by bombardments, its population nearly wiped out, and its green
will come to an end in my lifetime.
fields blasted into a toxic wasteland.
This is why I have contacted you. I will here seek to give you a brief
After the death of the Emperor and the loss of the throne-world, all
yet true summary of the recent history of our galaxy. I give this to you
semblance of Imperial control collapsed. The Lazax people became hunted
because I know that you will spread this knowledge far and wide. As we
across the galaxy in the vengeful wave of murder that is known now as the
enter the dangerous years before us, I fear that the galaxy shall have a great
Great Scourge. Lasting only twenty years, the scourge resulted in the near-
need of the past.
complete annihilation of the Lazax race. Until recently, no Lazax had been
It is told that the Lazax Emperors arose from the ashes of the Mahact
seen in the galaxy for more than three thousand years.
kings. Little is known of their early ascension, but it is impossible to deny
The Twilight Wars continued for centuries, but no race was powerful
that the Lazax must have been a profoundly intelligent, benevolent, and wise
enough to seize the throne and risk suffering a similar fate as the Emperor.
people. After their rise to power, we know that the Lazax chose the central
Slowly, the strength of the great civilizations failed as their economies
planet of Mecatol Rex as their home world. The year the Lazax first arrived
crumbled and as knowledge and technology was lost in the destruction and
on Mecatol Rex is recorded in the Imperial Chronicle as “first” and marks the
strain of long war.
beginning of my account.
And so the Age of Twilight ended in a slow whisper. The time that
For ages, the borders of the Lazax Empire expanded outward. As
followed, now known as the Dark Years, was a period of economic, cultural,
inhabited systems were discovered and annexed into the Empire, the Lazax
and intellectual collapse. The Great Races had by then retreated into their
allowed these newfound civilizations to join the Galactic Council: the
own small, safe areas of space, abandoning what they could no longer hold
governing body that represented the needs and voices of the Empire’s
by force. After several millennia, the Dark Years came to an end, and a calm
people. The Great Races: Xxcha, Hacan, Letnev, Hylar, Human, and N’orr
but uncertain period of rebuilding began.
were all represented in the council, as were hundreds of lesser civilizations
As I write this, the Great Races of the galaxy have regained elements
and independent systems.
of their former strength. Here on Mecatol Rex, the Galactic Council is
Yet, as the years passed, discoveries of new civilizations and planetary
growing in influence once more, while civilizations new and old are re-
systems slowed. Little by little, the mood of the empire changed as
colonizing the neighboring systems abandoned during the Dark Years.
technological and intellectual growth abated. Craving constant
The signs of great change are everywhere. I taste it in the air I
advancement, the Great Races began to look to the power of the Lazax and
breathe. This year, as if walking out of ancient prophecy, the Lazax returned
the resources of their neighbors. Greed and ambition grew in the hearts of
from the darkness of history in a foreboding cybernetic form. To me, their
statesmen and councilors. The once-noble spirit of the Empire turned
coming is like the first wind of a terrible storm. I feel as if the galaxy is
suspicious and fearful. It is during this time that the first conflicts between
waking – as if an ancient beast stirs from slumber in a dark cave.
the Great Races are recorded in the Imperial Chronicle. The Galactic Council
The day will soon come when a new Empire will rise. For the sake of
became a seedbed of intrigue, and the turmoil ushered in a time of spies and
all, may the new Emperor have not only the power to seize the throne, but
assassins. First in secret, and later in public, the Great Races began to build
the strength to conquer the peace.
their fleets and armies. Many embarked on territorial expansion that
If not, I fear that a sea of desolation will drown us all.
extended beyond their original charter. Border strife and resource disputes
proliferated, gnawing at the very foundations of the Empire. This was a time
of growing darkness known now as the Age of Dusk.
Throughout most of this age, the Lazax still held authority without
question. Except for a few minor and unsuccessful rebellions, few dared to
openly challenge the Emperors. Yet, blinded by millennia of unchallenged
rule, the Lazax could not perceive the mounting threat of ambition and
discontent that grew around them. As centuries passed, tensions between
the Great Races grew deeper, and so did their desire for power and control.
In the end, hatred was their only common ground: hatred for the Lazax,
Imperial rule, and for the benevolent arrogance of the emperors.
A small affair near the Quann Wormhole was the spark that would set
the galaxy aflame.
Protesting Imperial trade oversight, the Baron of Letnev began a
blockade of traffic through the Quann Wormhole. Because the prickly Letnev
had often been troublesome, an unconcerned and unhurried Emperor sought
to solve the conflict peacefully through the Galactic Council.
However, the blockade obstructed significant Sol trading activities and
prevented vital supplies from reaching a handful of Sol colonies that soon
were struck with famine and disease. After nearly eight months of fruitless
debate in the Galactic Council, the patience of the Sol Federation ran dry.
Without warning, the blockading Letnev ships were attacked and annihilated
 DISTANT SUNS “Their fleet is docked at Arretze, but my Baron…”
“Admiral. Look upon these luminous stars. These distant suns! They
harbor fruitful harvests, and wealth upon which to build an empire.”
After extensive space travel, you begin to fail hearing the humming of
The Baron of Letnev turned fully towards his Admiral. And, in the
the mass-engines. Their deep resonance simply becomes a part of your daily
military tradition of Letnev, removed a glove from his belt and handed it to
environment. Fleet officers often subconsciously associate the sound with
his First Admiral: the symbolic permission to strike with the Baron’s full
safety and comfort. It was therefore strange to Unlenn that it was this sound
might. The Baron formally addressed his most senior officer with a sharp
that interrupted his deep thoughts as he stood in the air-lift onboard the
voice.
Miskac. Admiral, Lord of Wenn, Master of Blades, and he was… nervous?
“Admiral, will you follow my command?”
Admiral Unlenn shook his head in tense amusement. This was the first time
“Yes, my Baron!” Unlenn fell to his knees.
that he had the pleasure of transporting the Baron himself. But, as the newly
“All these distant suns… You shall make them mine!”
appointed First Admiral, it was probably a thing to grow accustomed to.
Probably.
The two guards that escorted Unlenn felt his uneasiness. They
exchanged a brief look, and decided that today they would pay extra
attention to detail. Military protocol was an important, lethal, doctrine in the
Letnev fleet.
The air-lift stopped. The somber display indicated that they had
arrived at the executive quarters of the Miskac, quarters especially designed
for the ruling family. The door opened with a whisper, and the Admiral
strode briskly forward into the darkened room. The room’s viewshields were
open and starlight illuminated the walls. The still figure of the Baron stood as
a black outline against the stars looking aft. Baron Daz Emmiciel Werqan IV.
Proud, noble, just, and cruel. One of the most powerful men in the universe.
Unlenn fell to his knees, his grey robe spreading about him.
“Command me, my Baron.”
The dark figure slowly turned. Bleak shadows beneath heavy, sleek
eyebrows studied the newcomers. With a surprisingly soft voice, he spoke.
“Guards, you are dismissed.”
Without showing too much relief, the guards snapped about. They
retreated back into the waiting air-lift, whose doors closed swiftly, leaving
the two senior Letnevians alone. The baron glanced at the kneeling officer,
slightly amused.
“Rise, Unlenn. Come speak wigth me!”
The Baron turned again towards the viewshield. The departing
Mecatol Rex System was now a diminishing golden flare of light toward the
bow end of the mighty dreadnought. Unlenn spoke cordially.
“I trust that the council of races went well, my Baron?”
The Admiral wondered what had transpired behind the closed doors
of the council in the past three days. There had been an odd tension in the
old Imperial city. Unlenn had felt that something was awry within the higher
echelons of power.
“Well, yes, well…” the Baron cleared his voice, “I feel, dear Unlenn,
that we are reaching a watershed for our galaxy. Sentiments are changing,
and time has come for us to… shall I say… restore… what once was!”
“How do you mean, my Baron?”
“As you know, my dear Admiral, historically the council has looked
critically upon territorial expansion, but the temperament seemingly has
changed. As a matter of fact, I do believe that the Humans will annex the
Emelpar system this cycle. They made their intentions very clear. Yes, very
clear…”
“But the council…”
“It seemed that most of the other races have certain… interests… of
their own, and Sol annexation of Emelpar will function to create a new
precedent.”
“But that would inevitably mean war, my Baron!”
The Baron turned slowly towards his Admiral, a hidden smile
spreading to his eyes. So this Admiral had political foresight! A useful man,
the Baron thought. And a dangerous man! It would be prudent to keep this
Admiral close to home. It had not been an uncommon thing, in the Letnev
past, for a well-placed admiral or official to attempt a coup against the
Family. Every attempt had failed; of course, it always paid to be careful.
“Yes, Unlenn, war will come.”
The Admiral shifted his feet. “But my Lord, we still have a vital
problem with basic logistics, it…”
The Baron lifted his hand, silencing the Admiral with his gesture.
“During the last three days, I have made an… arrangement with the
Jol-Nar.”
“The fishmen? But my Baron…”
Another gesture silenced the Admiral. The Baron took a deep breath,
and spoke while glaring at the myriad of stars before him.
“Admiral, is our fleet still massing around Quann?”
“Yes, my Baron.”
“And the cursed Hacan?”
 THE OUTER RIM Willard took the report. The data on the sheet indicated that the
L1Z1X should possess virtually no fleet. Willard shook his head, and glanced
at the huge task force on the central screen. Somebody had messed up
“… Third shift, 1300 hours, all is clear.”
royally.
The display in front of Captain Willard confirmed the deck officer’s
“Communication?” He asked.
announcement. All sectors showed normal activity, and the approach
The CO shook his head. “None, sir. They're not answering our hails,
spectrum on his intelligence-pad indicated no potential threats within
and have paid no attention to our warnings.”
striking distance.
Willard leaned forward and flipped a red com-switch on his executive
The PDS command information center on the planet Emelpar was a
relay board. Central Planetary Defense, located on the south pole of
large, dimly-lit room bursting with monitoring technology and blue-clad
Emelpar, responded immediately.
personnel. The wealthy and historically significant planet of Emelpar had
“Central Defense here, Corporal Gonzales speaking!” The signal was
been the Federation of Sol’s first successful annexation in more than a
clear. Willard took a deep breath.
thousand years, and billions of credits had gone into the protection of the
“Gonzales! This is commanding officer Willard at CIC. Identification
system. Since the Emelpar annexation, several other systems had fallen
Delta Delta Georgia London 895. We are under attack, repeat, we are under
under the umbrella of the Federation. Sol was now a leading contender for
attack. Approaching enemy task force in the third sector. This is not a drill,
political control of the galaxy.
repeat, this is NOT a drill.”
Willard nodded to himself and punched the ‘All Clear’ confirmation
“Yes sir, requesting confirmation.”
button on his reportpad. He quietly studied the large monitors before him.
Following protocol, the CO leaned over the microphone. “Confirmed.
In Sector 0, the cluster of green triangles confirmed that a small Sol task-
This is CIC CO Albertson. Repeat. We are under attack. Initiate all defensive
force led by the dreadnought Paris was still in the system undergoing repairs
systems and engage countermeasures. My identification number Delta Delta
and system checks. The Emelpar facilities were top-notch and a popular stop
Tokyo Oslo 873.”
for fleet down-time. Willard nodded again and took a sip of his coffee.
“Acknowledged, sir. Stand by. Engaging shield, initiating counter-
Sitting down in his chair, he let out a contented sigh, and began to read the
measures!” Gonzales logged off. A minute later the general alarm sounded.
activity report from the previous two shifts.
The lights in the CIC dimmed slightly as enormous reserves of energy were
Interesting. The elite cruiser Mitterand had brought an important
transferred to the planetary shield, and world-wide energy sinks were
person to Emelpar this afternoon. None other than Supreme Admiral
powered up. Willard glanced at the readiness indicator. A ‘2!’ Emelpar was
DeLouis! Something must be brewing! Perhaps he was here to decide the
almost ready for battle.
future assignment of the Paris task force.
“Sir, we are spotting more than a hundred landing craft emerging from
Willard looked up at the readiness marker. It was at a normal ‘7.’ He
four enemy carriers, sir. The Paris task force is moving to intercept, but is
would have guessed that readiness would have been increased with such
heavily outgunned…” The voice of the deck officer was clearly heard over
important brass here. Then again, there seemed to be no threat at this time.
the alarms and buzzing activity of the CIC.
Willard lost himself in the reports.
Willard could not help flinching. Good God! More than a hundred
“… Proximity Alert, Third Sector. Hyperspace bubble forming.” The
landing craft. That would be more than six divisions! The Emelpar ground
deck officer's announcement jolted Willard out of his concentration.
defenses were a standard two divisions.
In front of him, on the third sector monitors, a red flash was indicating
The ground shook slightly as huge planet-wide magcannons began
an unscheduled arrival. Probably nothing! Most likely a harried merchant
pounding energy bolts at the approaching enemy. Blast streaks and heat-
that had forgotten to log in his arrival data. Happened a few times a day.
barrages made the overhead screens hard to decipher.
Nothing to worry about.
Time passed, maybe an hour.
As the hyperbubble dissolved, multiple large red dots materialized in
The deck officer’s voice rang out again. “The Paris has been
its place. Coffee exploded from Willard's lips onto the monitor in front of
destroyed, the Mitterand has been destroyed! Enemy landings have
him as he jumped, startled.
commenced across five major planetary centers.” Willard watched his staff
The deck officer's voice boomed across the room again. “… Twenty-
turn increasingly frantic in their efforts. There was an obvious concern for
two unidentified ships arriving in sector three. Alert! Alert! We may have
their own safety.
inbound enemy ships. Alert! Alert!" Red lights began flashing everywhere.
Willard drew his sidearm and checked the ammunition. He then
The control center burst into life. Willard rose from the chair and surveyed
switched on the CIC intercom controller in front of him. His voice boomed
the situation. This was not good. Not good!
over the hectic room. “Attention all personnel. Destroy all sensitive data
Willard flipped on a small microphone on his control-board. “CO!
and man your gun-ready positions. Anticipate an enemy ground attack.”
Give me readouts on those ships! I need identification, threat analysis and
Willard watched for a second as the people followed his orders.
possible approach vectors. Now!”
Weapon lockers were being opened, marines began leading squadrons to
Willard turned the microphone off and studied the newly-arrived
their defensive perimeters. Vast quantities of data were being deleted, data
ships.
drives ejected from their slots and deposited in magnetic shredders. Willard
Strange task force formation! Unlike any that Willard had previously
leaned over the microphone once more. “And… ladies and gentlemen…”
studied. Definitely not a Letnev fleet, it lacked the typical Letnev triad-
“Good luck.”
formations. It also did not identify with any of Sol’s current allies. Willard
The battle of Emelpar had begun.
glanced at the threat-board again. Damn intelligence! According to this
report there were no enemy or allied fleets of any significant size within
immediate reach of Emelpar.
Then what was that fleet doing up there? Willard glanced again at the
readiness indicator. A ‘4.’ This was not happening fast enough. He needed
information now!
“What about that ID?” Willard's voice boomed once again over the
intercom. He saw the CO leave his post from the floor and run up the stairs
towards him. Willard waited calmly as the winded CO reached him.
“Yes?” Willard turned. The CO cleared his throat.
“Captain, the ship specifications indicate that this fleet belongs to one
one the Rim civilizations. The… El… Elwonzewonex, sir. According to my
intelligence reports, they should not have half the fleet that just jumped out
of hyper-space!”
Willard knew a potential disaster was unfolding before him. “How
about the threat analysis?”
The CO showed the Captain his second printout. “Central command
has labeled the Elwonzewonex a volatile race, sir. And a likely enemy. Yet,
the same report also labels them a low-level threat — a minor galactic
power.”
 SHARDS OF THE THRONE the darkness ahead. The Xxcha continued to rummage through the ruined
structure.
“This one wasn’t in a hurry.” Yysho’s accent made the last word sound
Scout Unit H256, Sol 67th Marine Division
like whuuri.
Second Moon of Kal Haddar
Jael turned. Enough with the lessons. He was about to bark at the
Xxcha again, but stopped.
Captain Jael Ducan was annoyed. The men, recognizing his sullen
In the rubble lay the broken body of a ‘1X guardsman. Augmetics
mood, gave him a wide berth as they expertly moved into the dark and
covered the lower face and pate of the soldier, but his organic eyes, filled
desolated civhab block. It was the fifth month of campaigning, and the
with dust, were open in death. His armored chest plate had been torn apart
H256th’s first incursion.
with what appeared to be massive shears.
Five months coagulating in the hold of a third-generation cruiser, only
The Xxcha looked at Jael carefully, as if measuring him. Then the alien
to be dropped on an abandoned moon for a survey mission. Jael spat bitterly
sighed and undid the safety of his slug-rifle. “The enemy did not abandon this
onto the ashen soil. Some incursion.
moon because of us, Captain,” he said. “They fought something here before
While the coreward and central battle groups of joint task force
they left.” Yysho checked his ammo count. “Or maybe they didn’t leave,” he
Salient Sun had been engaged with the enemy for weeks, the rimward group
continued, tilting his head at the dead soldier, “maybe they died here.”
had seen no action. A few naval skirmishes, sure, but no honest work for
Jael walked back to the ruined structure and knelt to study the
leatherneck specialists like the men of unit H256.
mangled body. As he did, Yysho studied the civhab around them, yellow eyes
Roeto’s going to return home a barkin’ Colonel, and I’ll be lucky to get
looking for signs of movement in the silent windows.
combat pay. Jael’s friend had been assigned to the central battle group.
The H256th had been inserted into the largest of three primary
Everyone had heard rumors of the successes that the 81 st had chalked up
settlements on Kal Haddar’s second moon. The place had been home to a
against the L1Z1X on Tiamat and Hercalor. He’s going to be unbearable, the
community of foodstuff colonists, to farmers. The atmosphere on the moon
braggart.
was thin but breathable, and the soil supposedly excellent for growing roots.
“I don’t like this, Captain.”
The settlement, called “Astaria” according to the charts, was human, but like
The sound of the deep, heavily accented voice broke Jael’s
so many remote human settlements of this age, not part of the Federation.
introversion, upping his annoyance another notch. This notion of a “joint”
Instead, it had given its fealty to a Naalu governor a system or so coreward.
task force was well and good, but expecting him to be happy about a
Jael guessed Astaria had once been home to a few hundred thousand
“training embedment” was beyond reasonable.
souls. A rootfarmer metropolis.
“I don’t like this, Captain Jael,” Groc Yysho repeated. The huge Xxcha
They were all gone now. Dead most likely. Or slaves to the ‘1X. Orbital
warrior’s yellow eyes warily scanned the abandoned buildings around them,
bioscans had shown nothing alive on the moon with a signature larger than
his slug-rifle held ready. He’s actually nervous. Jael was disgusted. They’re
that of a small dog. The place was depressing.
expecting me to train a rookie.
Jael traced a finger along the massive cut in the armored chest of the
“I heard you the first time,” Jael snapped and stopped. “Listen, I don’t
dead ‘1X guard. Did the colonists do this? Did they rise up against the
like this either. We’re stuck in the arse-end of rim space, scouting a worthless
invaders? Unlikely. The ‘1X were unforgiving and effective warriors. A mob of
barren moon while all the glory is had coreward. On top of that sad story, I’m
farmers wouldn’t have stood a chance. If not them, then who? Jael reached
stuck with training your scaly behind. So, there’s plenty not to like.”
for his comlink and pressed the transmitter.
Jael gave the alien his hardest don’t-mess-with-me face. He needn’t
“Higheye, this is the H256th, do you copy?”
look to know his men were watching the dress-down with wry smiles.
Yysho didn’t glance down, but Jael could sense the alien’s satisfaction
But Yysho wasn’t cowed. He calmly studied Jael with his big yellow
in having the issue escalated.
eyes, starlight dully outlining the leathery hide of his beaked face. Moments
The transmitter buzzed. “H256, this is Higheye, copy.”
passed.
“Higheye, this is Captain Ducan. Give me Traw.”
Jael was the first to break, sensing the unseen attention of his men
“Stand by, Captain.”
waning. Damn alien.
Yysho seemed to sniff at the air, his head cocked towards the sky. The
“And what is it exactly,” Jael growled, “that you don’t like, Groc
large alien warrior was growing more restless by the second. Jael noticed a
Yysho?”
feral quality in the Xxcha’s careful movements. Had he misjudged his
The Xxcha studied Jael for another second, blinked, then gestured
embedded trainee? What do you smell, alien?
towards one of the structures they’d just passed. “We were told the ‘1X
“Something’s about to happen, Captain Jael.” The Xxcha slipped a
abandoned this moon,” he said, using the Sol shorthand term for the L1Z1X
small device out of his battlesuit, his slitted eyes intently studying the
enemy.
readouts. A motion sensor. Jael had a similar device in his pack. Expensive.
I wonder if he knows that we call his race the ‘2X? Jael glanced at the
Among Federation scouts, only captains or higher were outfitted with
structure towards which Yysho was pointing. It was an old ‘1X defensive
lightweight motion sensors.
position, now silent and broken in the cold night air.
“You should recall your men, Captain,” Yysho said, in as close to a
“That’s right. They abandoned the sector,” Jael said. “And we’re here
whisper the alien could muster. He expertly slipped the sensor back into his
to survey the little half-robo rats and roaches they left behind.” Jael gestured
suit.
at the Xxcha’s heavy slug-rifle. “Think your little boom-stick can handle that,
“Motion?” Jael asked. Why am I whispering?
Xxcha?” The men grunted in restrained amusement.
The Xxcha shook his head. “Intuition.”
Ignoring the slight, Yysho stepped away from the Captain and moved
“Jael, what do you have?” Colonel Traw’s voice boomed in the
towards the ruined structure.
receiver. Yysho frowned at the volume level. Jael turned it down.
“Yet, their defensive positions are destroyed,” said the Xxcha, pushing
“Jael?” Colonel Traw was not a man accustomed to waiting.
at one of the splintered beams. It grated across the dilapidated pile,
Yysho looked down at Jael, big yellow eyes intent and alert. “Recall
pulverized ceramics and metal girders shifting in the darkness.
your men, Captain.”
Jael sighed. Kal Haddar Moon classroom, Professor Ducan presiding.
Jael ignored the Xxcha. “Sir, we’ve found…something here.” He
“Scorched earth!” Jael said as he bent down to gather up a ‘1X rifle
considered his next words. “Do we know for sure why the enemy abandoned
from the rubble, dust falling from its broken barrel like water from a faucet.
this moon?”
“Don’t leave anything behind for your enemy!” He waived the broken
Jael sensed Traw’s impatience. “As I told you in mission orientation,
weapon to illustrate the point, then let it drop back onto the street. And let
Captain, they’ve withdrawn to support their defenses against our coreward
them waste their resources scouting this worthless orb of a moon.
action…” The colonel suddenly paused; Jael heard agitated chatter in the
“Their weapons are still here, as are the targeting systems.” Yysho
background. “Stand by, Jael. Seems I got another unit checking in.”
pushed more rubble out of the way. The main heavy repeater-gun was still in
Damn.
its stand. Below the weapon, sophisticated targeting and communications
Jael switched transmission frequency. “Gather and caution,” he said in
systems sat powerless in their chassis, all covered with the fine dust that
a low voice to the H256th’s unit channel. Ahead, in the shadows, his men
seemed to be everywhere on this moon.
would check their weapons and start their return to him.
Jael shrugged. “Must’ve been in a hurry.” He turned and gestured for
That was when the first distant explosion lit the dusty atmosphere
his men to continue their patrol. They roused soundlessly and moved into
with a dull orange flash. A second or so later, the dull crunch of impact
followed. Jael estimated the distance to be two miles to the south. Sliver
rocket. A Federation scout unit had fired its heavy weapon. At what?
The remote clacking of firearms followed, then another rocket impact.
“H256th, to me!” Jael stood and roared down the street. Transmitter
be damned.
More rocket blasts, more rifle fire. This time to the west. Another
Federation unit had engaged. Engaged what?
The men began expertly emerging from the shadows ahead, silently
and with weapons ready. Lt. Germaine stopped a few feet from Jael, a curt
dip of his head an unsaid inquiry, What are your orders?
Jael was about to say “we go south to help” when he saw subtle
movement out of the corner of his eye. A long dark shape slithered against
the dust and rubble with a metallic sound, like a chain dragged over dry
leaves.
“CONTACT!”
Pvt. Jens fired into the darkness. Muzzle flashes lit up the dark street.
Yysho grunted unhappily.
Jens’s shooting seemed to wake more of whatever it was Jael had
seen. Over the clattering of rifle fire, Jael heard the slithering noise intensify,
this time from several directions. And there was another sound: the thin
sonic whine of batteries, servos, and forced air coolant systems coming
online. Dozens of them.
Pvt. Jens died, and the firing momentarily stopped. His body had been
sliced in two by such sharp force that it left him standing whole for a few
seconds before he slid apart.
Then the street came alive.
From windows, from alleys, from beneath dusty rubble, things rose.
Slim snakelike appendages of dark banded metal, each a dozen or so yards in
length. They emerged like a school of kraken breaching the surface of a grey
ocean. At the tip of each tentacle was a slim leaf-shaped blade, black and
sharp in the starlight.
A low thump sounded to Jael’s right, followed immediately by the
splintering of black metal vertebrae and flying fragments that stung his face.
The shot from Yysho’s slug-rifle had severed the closest of the
tentacles, its live end thrashing like a wounded snake. The business end, the
one with the bladed spike that surely would have speared Jael’s head,
undulated in death-throes at the captain’s feet.
Pandemonium erupted as the men of the H256th all began firing as
one.
Like a kick in the eardrum, Jael felt the jet vacuum of a Sliver rocket
shoot past him. Fifty yards ahead, the rocket impacted its target with a dull
crump that sent dust and metal fragments spinning through the already thick
chaos of rifle-shots and waving metallic appendages.
The recipient of the rocket was briefly revealed in the red bloom of
the explosion.
It was as large as a Carnivore-class tank. Its bloated exoskeletal body
was segmented in black metal plates that twisted like living scales, propelling
the monstrous body towards Jael’s unit. The thing had no head or face – only
a nexus of those metal tentacles, each extending nearly a city block to slash
and stab at the soldiers. Jael unslung his rifle and sent a volley of plasma in
the general direction of the monstrosity while he tried to read the tactical
situation.
Three of his men were dead already, Lt. Germaine among them. A few
more wounded but nobly keeping up the job of destroying flailing tendrils
with rifle-shots and heavy slugs. The things seemed to come from
everywhere. There must be at least five of those monsters out there! Jael
thought. The able men of the H256th, a good dozen now, were dodging and
firing the best they knew how, but this couldn’t last long. Jonas Kemp, the
unit’s heavy weapons specialist, sent another Sliver rocket into the darkness
before he was impaled simultaneously by three tendrils. Howling, Jonas was
violently retracted into the darkness. Jael never saw Jonas again.
Yysho fired another shot. The stabbing head of another tentacle
exploded in a mist of metallic dust.
“Into the yellow building!” the Xxcha boomed over the din.
Even if his accent made it sound like Jollo Booldun, Jael couldn’t agree
more. He repeated the order with a bark, adding a traditional Sol “Go, Go,
Go.”
Then the flyers struck.
About half of Jael’s men had ducked inside the doorway of the yellow
civhome when the sky suddenly began to rain molten darts. Jael took three
hits to his upper shoulders before throwing himself into cover under the
doorway. The two men behind him were torn to shreds.
The barrage of darts stopped as suddenly as it had started. Over the
grating and banging of the tentacles, they heard an unfamiliar oscillating
whoop of many small but powerful propellers. Then, like evil daddy longlegs,
about 20 enemy drones dropped into street view. Each of the machines had
three lightweight propellers protruding from serrated backs. Hanging from
each drone was a collection of slender robotic legs, each brimming with
strange lightweight weaponry. Their heads consisted of a balled collection of
whirring cameras, moving and refocusing constantly, each emanating a dull
red glow.
“Let ‘em have it!” Jael ordered his men.
Jael emptied his plasma magazine into the face of the nearest flyer.
The thing disintegrated, legs blowing off of it like rotten stalks. Its head
exploded with an electric hiss, and its body crashed to the ground in a mess
of metal joints. One of its propellers had been pried loose by Jael’s shots and
careened like a saw blade into another of the flyers. The second flyer was
torn apart in a storm of white sparks. Gotcha!
Another four of the insectile machines were destroyed by Jael’s men
before the remaining drones had calculated their situation. Delicate servos
whining, they each raised two of their many legs in line with the yellow
civhome, and the hellish rain of darts started again.
The survivors of the H256th fell to the floor and rolled desperately
against the front wall as thousands of tiny red-hot darts disintegrated the
plaster of the outside walls and anything in view of doorways and windows.
The sound was thunderous. Dust and bits of building flew everywhere.
After what seemed an hour, but couldn’t have been more than a few
seconds, the intensity of the shooting lessened. Jael straightened his helmet
and brushed the dust off his face. His ears were ringing and he didn’t feel
right. He was dizzy, nauseous, his vision blurry. C’mon soldier! He shook his
head to clear it up; it didn’t help. Did they use gas? A sickness suddenly
erupted in his middle, and Jael heaved his guts onto the floor. As he
recovered, he realized Yysho was next to him. One of the Xxcha’s strong arms
had propped him against the wall, while the alien investigated the wounds
on his back.
“What! Are you a Medic trainee now?” Jael quipped drunkenly. The
Xxcha didn’t laugh. It wasn’t funny.
A few of the men had started returning fire, and from the sound of it,
they were nailing a few more of those damned daddy longlegs. The Xxcha
produced a thin plastek-sealed cylinder from his vest. He bit off the cylinder’s
wrapper and plunged its short thick syringe into Jael’s upper back. Jael
squealed like a stuck pig, the needle stabbing him like a knife. The ‘2X must
have some damn tough skin. The injected fluid stung like a scorpion bite.
Almost immediately, Jael’s entire body began to burn like hot soup.
Yysho grabbed Jael’s moaning face, prying open one of the captain’s
eyelids. “Arsenic poisoning,” the alien mumbled and released Jael. “From the
dart wounds.”
Jael threw up again, a dry heave. His body still felt like warm goo, but
his vision was clearing a bit already. “Thanks, I get that a lot.”
“You’ll live.” Yysho nodded in satisfaction and took up his slug-rifle to
help in the defense. “At least for another few minutes,” he added.
The barrage of flaming darts continued, now rejoined by the tentacles
stabbing at the walls and lashing the windows and doorways. The screech of
metal on ceramite was like a needle poking in the brain. The noise cleared
Jael’s head.
“You just happened to have medication for arsenic poisoning with
you?” Jael asked the Xxcha between a round of firing.
The alien glanced at the recovering captain, shrugged, and took
another shot at a drone that had come too close. The enemy exploded in a
white flash of burning phosphor and the stink of ozone.
“You know what those things are, don’t you?” Jael gestured to the
street as he groped for his rifle and inched toward the window. Damned if he
wouldn’t have some of the action too.
Yysho thought for a moment. “My commanders recently came to
suspect something dangerous was infesting this quadrant,” he said. Jael
noticed smoke. The back of the house had begun smoldering, no doubt
ignited by the heaping piles of red-hot projectiles. The Xxcha had seen it too,
but seemed far more concerned with the enemy in front of the building.
“At first we thought the ‘1X had some form of new weapon, an
advanced force of some kind,” Yysho continued. “But there were intercepts,
indications that the ‘1X themselves were fighting it.”
“I guess this place proves that theory,” Jael said as he stabbed his knife
into a metallic tendril that had slithered over the windowsill near him. The
knife grated in between two joints. Jael twisted the blade, sending sparks
flying. With a violent jerk, the tendril retreated back into the street, Jael’s
knife with it.
The Xxcha nodded distractedly, he was now listening for something.
Jael heard it too. A deep rumbling that made the floor jitter. Something big
was coming.
Yysho gestured at Jael’s transmitter. “Now would be a good time for
another helpful talk with your CO!”
Jael grabbed his transmitter and adjusted the signal. Nothing. He drew
back the flap of his equipment pack. The transmitter was smoking; it had
taken two direct hits by the arsenic darts. Jael looked at the Xxcha and shook
his head. So much for the cavalry.
The rumbling grew louder, and the ground began to shake tangibly.
A thought occurred to Jael. “Yysho?” he asked. “When you were
assigned to the H256th, I was told you were a training embedment.”
The Xxcha reloaded his weapon. “That’s right,” he grunted. It sounded
like das rewt.
Jael grinned. “Except we weren’t supposed to train you, were we?”
The Xxcha blinked once, then cocked his head to look at Jael with his
large yellow eyes. “No, Captain,” Yysho answered. “I was tasked to train your
fleshy little behind.”
Jael couldn’t help but laugh out loud. It hurt his wounded shoulders.
Then he noticed the rumbling had stopped. Whatever vile device the enemy
was deploying, it had apparently rolled into position.
At least I don’t have to worry about getting combat pay, Jael thought
and reloaded his weapon.
The real fighting was about to begin.
 PROPHECY OF KINGS suggests it may be some exotic material—perhaps not fully in our
dimension,” he had burbled excitedly.
He was incensed he could not study them in person, just as Hiari railed
In all of her time spent exploring the galaxy, she had never seen an
against being unable to explore the exposed structures scattered across the
ocean being drained.
ocean floor. But their hosts insisted, politely but firmly, the observers remain
The Aris Vex had made orbit an hour ago, and since then Hiari Omar
in orbit. So they watched as Creuss ships descended on the ruins.
had not once left the corvette’s observation blister. Beneath her lay a gray
Five days into the exploration, the Creuss explorers uncovered…
planet covered in dust storms and foaming, black seas. Nothing grew on its
something.
barren, ashen plains, and only the simplest plants struggled to survive in the
The Aris Vex had been on the far side of Acheron when the ship’s
mineral-laced waters. It was probably the least interesting world Hiari had
gravitic sensors registered a massive spike. Something more massive than
seen, and yet she had traveled all the way from the Jord Institute of History,
the planet was stretching the fabric of space-time. By the time the corvette’s
beyond the Creuss Gate, past the Torali Pulsar, and deep into Shaleri space,
orbit brought it above the city again, the disk had vanished, enveloped in a
to be here.
perfect sphere of infinite darkness. A wormhole. A wormhole five
And she wasn’t the only one.
kilometers in diameter, buried beneath a forgotten sea.
“Dr. Omar.”
The observation team had protested with one voice, threatening to
She started at the deep rumbling purr, then turned and smiled.
report to their respective governments and return with fleets should the
“Durruq. I am sorry I did not notice you.”
Creuss continue to bar them from this discovery. The Creuss acquiesced.
The Hacan envoy briefly closed his eyes and dipped his body in a
Less than a day later, a shuttle had rendezvoused with the Aris Vex. There
friendly greeting. “I apologize for disturbing your contemplations, but the
was room enough for all twenty-five of the official observers, but only barely.
rest of the observer team was about to dine. Will you join us?”
Hiari had chosen a cramped seat next to Durruq, rather than bear the
“In a minute,” Hiari said. “I want to watch a bit longer.”
company of the sanctimonious Brother Dormer of the Yin or the unsettling
Durruq nodded. “It is an impressive sight. I will join you for a time, if
presence of N’ssika of the Naalu Collective. But despite the packed and
you will permit me.”
uncomfortable quarters, none of the observers had even considered staying
She shifted to provide space at the blister, and the larger alien joined
behind.
her, staring out across the ships that hung in space above the world.
Now the edge of the plateau was drawing near. The shuttle banked
Months ago, Creuss researchers had discovered records buried in
around one of the towers rising out of the side of the cliffs. Hiari gulped.
forgotten vaults on Mecatol Rex, decaying mag-plates that spoke of a world
From orbit, she hadn’t realized just how imposing the massive, black stone
called Acheron, the gateway of Ixth. The Creuss dispatched a massive
buildings would be. They reminded her of temples, designed to inspire awe…
armada into this forgotten corner of the galaxy, hoping to be the first to find
or dread.
the fabled paradise world and reap the attendant glories of its discovery.
Even as Hiari shook off the stray thought, Durruq growled in the back
Before the rest of the Galactic Council could insist on a multi-species
of his throat. “I do not like the look of this place.”
observer team to accompany the expedition, Creuss scouts were already
San Sinassa, the Creuss sent to mind the observers, turned from the
finding routes around the ravenous Singularity of Manon, and into ancient
pilot’s seat. “We have found similar structures all across the seabed.
nebulae that were unknown even to these enigmatic aliens. By the time
Apparently, this is an entire lost civilization.”
Hiari had been whisked from her apartment in New Moscow and brought
“I’d like access to some of those other sites as well,” Hiari said. “If I’m
aboard the Barony corvette, word had come that the expedition had found
going to get a clearer picture of this culture—”
Acheron, and sensors had detected strange readings beneath the world’s
“I’m sorry,” Sinassa replied. “But some of our teams have come under
largest ocean.
attack by unknown assailants as they explored the ruins. Letting you venture
Now, a toroid the size of a space dock hung suspended between the
on your own is too dangerous.”
sculpted silver hulls of two Creuss dreadnoughts. Hiari watched as invisible
The observers looked at the Creuss with surprise. The Rokha Varish
grav-fields reached down to the ocean hundreds of kilometers below;
narrowed her green eyes, and her Naaz companion Cole climbed up on her
siphoning off the sea in a writhing funnel of water a kilometer across. It rose
shoulders for a better view. “Assailants? What assailants are these?”
up, out of the atmosphere, and through the toroid, erupting into an ever-
“They’re unknown,” Sinassa said soothingly. “Once we have more
expanding cloud of shimmering ice that slowly wrapped around to envelop
information, we will certainly provide you with it. Ah, we are approaching
the planet.
the gateway.”
“How foolish.” This time, Hiari didn’t turn. She recognized the
The shuttle had been flying up a ravine leading into the interior of the
burbling voice as belonging to Migun Thu, a researcher from the Universities
plateau. Now it climbed, soaring over the lip to reveal the massive curve of
of Jol-Nar. He maneuvered his environment suit into the observation room,
the wormhole. A black sphere ringed by warped light. Still dozens of
followed by an austere blue-gray woman in a formal uniform. Commander
kilometers away, it filled the forward viewports. The observers fell silent.
Teallian Den Marchand the Elder was the captain of the Aris Vex and official
“You could fly a Murmanifique battleship through that,” Teallian finally
observer for the Barony.
whispered.
Migun gestured a manipulator arm at the toroid. “Any sentient who
“Can you...” Hiari said. “Fly through it, I mean?”
can travel into space can venture underwater. Why waste so much energy to
The Creuss nodded, his posture conveying pride. “Our teams entered
remove the entire ocean?” The aquatic alien seemed personally offended by
three hours ago. Prepare yourselves.”
the whole affair.
The shuttle accelerated, flying toward the absolute darkness of the
Teallian shook her head. “No, researcher. It’s not wasteful at all.”
surface. Hiari clenched her seat’s armrests as she felt as if she was being
“What do you mean?” Hiari asked.
wrenched in every direction at once. For a moment, or perhaps an eternity
The Barony officer gave her a small, superior smile. “It’s arrogant,
of moments, she was blind and deaf, smothered in complete nothingness.
Doctor. Pure arrogance to demonstrate their power by reshaping a planet to
Then, she could see again. The shuttle arced out of the wormhole,
get what they want. And I approve.”
and they were soaring over a city.
A huge city, Hiari realized. The shuttle had enough height that she
–––––––––––––
could see serried ranks of immense, cyclopean structures in all directions,
stretching off to the horizon. Black stone, like on Acheron. And above that…
Two weeks later, the shuttle soared across the expanse of the exposed
The dim light of a smoldering red dwarf star could not obscure the
seabed. Through her cabin viewport, Hiari could see rivers of sludge flowed
glowing disk that stretched from one edge of the sky to the other. One of
through the wasteland, slowly filling the drained abyssal trenches with mud.
the observers gasped. “Is that…the galaxy?”
Already, dust storms were starting to whip up the drying silt.
“We believe so,” Sinassa said. “Our scientists are working to identify
On the horizon ahead, she could just make out the cliffs rising from
this world’s location, but our preliminary analysis places this at least fifty
the ocean floor. As the water receded, it had exposed a vast undersea
thousand light years from Acheron, nearly perpendicular to the galactic
plateau, hundreds of kilometers across. Atop the plateau were vast
plane.”
structures linked by pathways of smooth black stone that radiated out from a
“…by the sacred depths,” Migun murmured. Hiari thought she knew
circular disc that lay in the center of the plateau. Using the Aris Vex’s sensor
exactly how he felt.
suite, Migun calculated that the disc was five kilometers across and
unimaginably dense. “That it has not collapsed under its own weight
 The shuttle circled the center of the city before putting down in the
courtyard of a construction that was immense even by the standards of the
buildings around them. Hiari thought she could identify elements of the
galactic-antiquity style in the massive ziggurat, but she had never seen
anything like the fan of towering blades that adorned the summit...like a
monstrous crown.
Get control of yourself, Dr. Omar, she thought sharply. You know
better than to attribute human emotions to alien cultures like a first-year
student!
But she couldn’t shake the ominous feeling as they disembarked. The
courtyard was more black stone, perfectly fitted and partially covered by
drifting dunes of dust. The lowest level of the ziggurat towered over them, at
least one hundred meters high. Small Creuss ships huddled around the only
visible entrance, an archway large enough to fly their shuttle through with
room to spare. Creuss techs bustled about setting up scanners and deploying
drones, paying no attention to the party.
As soon as they stepped across the threshold and a cavernous hallway
beyond, Hiari felt a tingling sensation sweep across her skin. Durruq’s eyes
narrowed. “There’s no dust in here.”
“Amazing,” Migun said. “That must be some sort of static field, and
it’s still functioning!”
Sinassa nodded. “Our advance teams report more impressive finds
within. With your permission, I will take you to see them.”
The team slowly made its way deeper into the heart of the structure.
The passageways they followed eventually shrank, but the vaulted ceilings
still loomed far over the heads of the observers. As the natural light faded
away, they realized that the interior was lit by a faint blue lambency—though
no one could tell where the light came from.
Hiari began to see decorations worked into the walls and columns,
sharp geometric shapes with gold inlay. At one point, she drifted away and
pulled out her savant, taking scans of a series of carvings until Sinassa politely
insisted that she rejoin the group.
“I’m sure those bas-reliefs were of DNA helixes,” Hiari whispered to
Durruq. “There even appeared to be genetic coding beneath, if I can
interpret their language.”
The air grew colder the deeper they got. In approximately half an
hour, Hiari’s savant informed her they had descended over one hundred
meters below ground level, and her breath puffed out in white clouds. She
was about to ask Sinassa how much farther they were going when the
passage suddenly opened.
The observers found themselves standing on a balcony overlooking a
bottomless well over a kilometer across. The balcony stretched around the
circumference of the well, and thin bridges ran out in regular intervals to a
column that hung suspended in the center like a mechanical stalactite. The
column was covered in machinery, pipes, conduits, and inlaid circuits that
spread out across the ceiling far above, then ran back down the sides of the
well and vanished into the depths.
“As you can see,” Sinassa said, “this is clearly the heart of the
structure, and where we have focused our efforts.” He gestured to a number
of Creuss who had crossed the bridges and were now clustered around the
column. “We have discovered what appear to be large stasis pods
embedded in the column. If you would care to observe…”
He began to walk across the nearest bridge. Most of the group of
observers trailed in his wake, talking quietly but excitedly amongst
themselves. Hiari saw the Winnaran xenoarchaeologist Toala Toaldar, a
former colleague on several expeditions to the Mirist Stars, recording the
entire chamber with her own bulky savant.
She started to follow, but Durruq laid a heavy paw on Hiari’s shoulder.
“A moment, Dr. Omar.” He gestured to the wall behind them. Hiari saw
that, amongst the conduits, writing had been carved into the walls. “Before
we delve too deeply, would it be possible to decipher this?”
Hiari looked closer. “I think I might…” She began searching through
her savant’s files. “Yes! This looks like a pre-Lazax dialect we found on the
ruins of Vira-Pics III.”
She began to scan and review the lettering. Varish and Cole, along
with Migun, had also remained behind to study the machinery on the walls.
So had Commander Teallian, who was looking about with narrowed eyes. As
Hiari searched for previously deciphered morphemes from the Vira-Pics site,
she heard Durruq speaking to the Letnev officer. “Does this place disturb
you, too?”
“It does,” Teallian muttered. “It’s just… in all the stories, Ixth is
supposed to be a garden paradise; a promised land. Does this really seem
like a paradise to you?”
Durruq growled quietly in response.
A few minutes later, the heavy tread of his environmental suit
heralded Sinassa’s return. “Please, everyone. It would be wise if you would
stay with the main group—”
“Just a moment.” Hiari looked up. “I think I can read this.”
Everyone—even Varish, Cole, and Migun—crowded around. “Well, go
on then,” Teallian said. “What does it say?”
Hiari started to go through the words closest to the door. “Well, this
speaks of a sanctum… a refuge of royalty. This place, I think. Then it
references Ixth, which is this planet... And then here’s something about a
mighty empire… one with dominion over every star in Ixth’s sky. The
Dominion of…”
She suddenly looked up, her face gray. “Sinassa. Tell your colleagues
to leave that column at once.”
“What are you talking about?” Migun demanded.
Hiari pointed at a set of letters. “It says… ‘the Dominion of the
Mahact, the Kings of the Galaxy.’”
A deafening crack echoed across the well, and the blue glow
brightened. There seemed to be some sort of commotion near the column.
Hiari could just make out figures backing away from a space in the machinery
that was sliding open. Inside it was dark, with tiny points of blue light. Like
stars.
A red flash lit the chamber, then another, and another. Hiari thought
she could hear one of the other observers screaming. Then a billowing,
hissing cloud of steam erupted from the column, hiding it from view.
“We need to leave,” Teallian said. “Sinassa?”
The Creuss warrior looked at her, then nodded. “Yes, I think so. I will
contact the rest of the advance team…” His voice trailed off. Suddenly his
suit began to spasm and shudder. Sinassa threw his head back and howled.
Sparks of red began to leak from the joints of his suit, overwhelming the
Creuss’ normal cerulean glow.
The group began to back away as Sinassa suddenly relaxed, crimson
light spilling from his armor. He studied the group for a long moment. Then
he reached for his laser rifle.
His arm sheared off at the shoulder in a shower of sparks. Durruq
growled as he spun, bringing his collapsible shudder blade back into an
upward swing that split Sinassa from waist to shoulder. The Creuss
screamed, energy erupting from his suit as he pitched over the side of the
balcony.
The Hacan didn’t pause to watch his foe fall. He sprinted for the
hallway leading back to the surface. “Run!” he ordered.
Hiari and her remaining colleagues fled through the corridors to the
surface. Screams still echoed down the passages behind them, and the glow
in the air seemed to be brightening. Soon, glowing lines began to trace the
carvings and decorations on the wall. The ziggurat was waking up.
As they ran, Hiari saw Durruq clutching his arm. “You’re injured!” she
gasped.
Durruq shook his head, and pulled back his hand. Blood oozed from
the neat hole in his forearm. “Skin pocket,” he growled. “Where I hid the
blade.”
“Skin pockets? Hidden weapons?”
The Hacan bared his teeth. “The Emirates felt it best—” he paused as
they sprinted around a corner, blade ready “—to send an envoy with hidden
talents.”
Hiari kept running, but she couldn’t stop watching Durruq out of the
corner of her eyes.
They had just made it to the main hall when they were attacked.
White, smooth-skinned humanoids sprinted from the shadows. Their faces
were completely featureless, no eyes, ears, nose, or mouth. But they could
sense the group’s presence all the same and charged, thin needle-blades
sprouting from their palms.
Durruq killed two with sweeping strokes, ducking under their grasping
arms as he disemboweled them. Another leapt on Migun, only to have its
needle snap harmlessly against the hard surface of the environment suit. A
moment later, the Hylar activated some sort of defense field and fried the
humanoid with a massive electric shock.
Hiari ducked out of the path of another humanoid, blocking its stab
with her savant and wishing desperately that she had some sort of weapon.
Varish and Cole didn’t even stop. The tiny Naaz held on tight as the Rokha
sprinted for the exit.
But despite their efforts, none of the team would have escaped
without Teallian. The commander drew her grazer sidearm and calmly began
firing. Each shot dropped one of the humanoids into a pile of twitching limbs
and smoking flesh. Instinctively, the rest of the group clustered around Instead, one by one, the Creuss ships descended toward the plateau
Teallian as they backed for the exit with Durruq keeping her flanks protected and began to enter the gateway.
if any of the creatures got too close.
They made it over the threshold and out into the courtyard just as the
grazer overheated with a whistling scream. Teallian cursed and threw it at
the nearest creature, then turned and ran. The Creuss who had been setting
up the exploration base camp had vanished. So had their ships. But the
observers’ shuttle remained. Through the cockpit windows, Hiari could see
Varish and Cole prepping the ship for takeoff.
Durruq and Migun sprinted up the boarding ramp, with Hiari right
behind them. She turned to help Teallian aboard, only to see her gasp and
stumble. One of the humanoids had closed and lunged, driving the needle-
blade into her shoulder.
Without thinking, Hiari smashed the thing’s featureless face with her
savant. As it reeled back, she grabbed Teallian by the hand and hauled her
up the ramp, the hatch hissing shut behind them both. Then the shuttle
leapt into the air, flying fast away from the courtyard.
Migun grabbed the Letnev commander and helped her to a bench,
while Hiari helped peel off her uniform jacket.
“How bad is it?” Teallian asked, grimacing.
“I’m not sure,” Hiari said. The wound was a single round puncture
with little blood leaking out of it. However, the skin around the injury was
starting to turn ashen white. She reached for the emergency med-box and
sprayed the site with contravenoms and a curative seal. By the time she’d
finished, the white had spread across Teallian’s shoulder and down her arm,
and the Letnev was watching her own hand with horrified fascination.
“I don’t know what this is,” Hiari said. “It’s not responding to any of
the meds.”
Teallian’s fingernails all fell off at once. The skin beneath was smooth
and fresh. She reached up, and pulled a clump of her own hair free. As she
did, her hand ran across her ear, which was starting to shrink and shrivel.
Teallian stared at the hair in her hand for a long moment. When she looked
up at Hiari, her eyes were hard. “This is some sort of gene-sorcery.”
She sucked in a deep, shuddering breath, then continued. “It’s
happening fast. Doctor Omar, listen to me. Get back to the Aris Vex. My
crew has prepared for the possibility that we would discover something
dangerous. Tell them ‘Quann.’ They will follow your instructions. Warn the
Council.”
Hiari nodded. “I will.”
Teallian turned to Durruq. She could barely keep her eyes open, the
sockets seemed to be sealing shut. “Now. Your sword.” She held out her
arm.

–––––––––––––

The shuttle erupted from the wormhole on Acheron, soaring toward

the fleet. The remaining members of the team gathered in the cockpit.
Nobody wanted to sit in the back.
No hails greeted the shuttle. After a long moment, Hiari activated the
communicator. “This is the observation team, hailing the Aris Vex. Come in,
Aris Vex.”
Another long pause, then a burst of static and the voice of Lieutenant
Drellixiar, the corvette’s first officer. “Observation team, this is Aris Vex.
Commander Marchand, is that you?”
“No, this is Doctor Hiari Omar. I’m afraid the Commander is dead.”
Hiari glanced over her shoulder, toward the crew bay. “She said that the
code is ‘Quann.’”
“Understood, Doctor. Stand by for rendezvous coordinates.”
Information flowed through the shuttle’s nav systems, and Varish
hissed. “What are you doing in a polar orbit?”
“The situation here has become complex in the past hour,” Drellixiar
said. “We thought it best to keep a low profile.”
“What do you mean, ‘complex?’” Durruq asked.
“You should be able to see for yourself,” Drellixiar replied.
The shuttle was just breaking free from Acheron’s atmosphere and
entering the black void of space. Suddenly they could see the Creuss fleet, in
orbit over the wormhole.
Red lights danced across the hulls of the Creuss warships. The
sculpted silver decorations now flickered with a smoldering, crimson glow.
The fleet sank into Acheron’s atmosphere even as the shuttle flew higher.
No one scanned or hailed the shuttle, or seemed to even notice their
existence.
 FLIGHT
BROADCAST;“TARGETSTATUS”
{FTL CORE;[DAMAGED]}
{WEAPONS;[DAMAGED]}
{NAVIGATION;[DAMAGED]}
{ESCORT VESSELS;[DESTROYED]}
COMMAND;UPDATE:”FLEETSTATUS”
{SETSTATE:DESTROYTARGET;MARKERS:[PRIME]}
FLEET.STATUS.UPDATED.ALLMARKERS[PRIME].
PRIORITYZERO.
PURSUE.
PURSUE.
PURSUE.
The Coatl, flagship of the Argent Flight, soared through the Ordinian
nebula. A swarm of Nekro attack craft swirled and writhed in her wake,
belching fire into the space between them. Sakora Aun Navori watched
through the viewscreen as the ship scythed through graceful clouds and
flickering lights—but the other members of Sakora’s Command Wing had
their heads to their consoles and hands to their earpieces as the Coatl
burned; the aft hull was awash with explosions, the armor plates fractured
into winking dust.
Sakora’s eyes flitted between the multiple reports flying up on her
command console—engine six was close to burnout. What remained of
Security was evacuating everything aft of the Engine Room. The shuttle filled
with survivors from the wreckage of Strike Wing Epsilon had been lost with
all hands. Her feathers were all trying to stand up at once, but she willed
them down—she had rotated to Captain now, and everyone in Command
was looking to her for guidance. Part of her laughed—she was covered in her
wingmate Valiksa Aun Erosai’s blood and the bridge was bathed in ultraviolet
emergency light, and here she was thinking about ruffled feathers...
It wasn’t good. Damage Control had sealed the breach the Nekro
boarding vessel had scored across their flank, but Sensors reported the
enemy was focusing their attacks on that side. Engine Room was requesting a
course correction to prevent the fuel lines from being exposed to enemy fire.
“Keep our starboard flank to them,” she ordered. Behind her,
Command Wing sped to obey. Suurik in Navigation calculated maneuvers
under his breath, his skilled fingers sliding across the controls. Sakora’s
training kept her from looking back. Captains were placed in the front of the
bridge. Trust your Wing. “Weapons, Damage Control reports aft battery nine
cannot be salvaged.”
“We need the power for engines anyway,” muttered Zulek, who was
on Weapons. “I could have a dozen batteries and we still wouldn’t bat away
that incoming...”
“Captain, enemy element breaking off from the main swarm,” said
Ikosavec in Onboard. “Another boarding party.”
Suurik growled in frustration. “We can’t let them board! The first wave
wiped out Security!”
And Valiksa nearly died, she thought, but didn’t say. “Onboard, get
Suurik as much engine power as you can.” Sakora tapped the button on her
console to bring up a shipwide transmission. In her entire career, she had
never heard a shipwide, and now she was delivering one.
“All Wings, this is Command. I am ordering maximum burn. I repeat,
full engine burn. To your stations.”
She keyed off the transmission, a prickling sensation traveling down
her arms as she felt the ship begin to flutter and shake. “Engineering,
report.”
“Engine Room for you,” said tall, deep-voiced Chekk, currently in
Engineering. “Patching them in.”
“Command!” the holovid burst into existence above her console as a
harried face appeared in front of several blurred forms—people running,
wings bristling, snarling orders at each other. She pulled her face into stoic
serenity, Valiksa’s blood still congealing on her eyelids. Her talons bit deeply
into her palm. “Command, I can give you six minutes of max burn, but after
that things are going to go ruffled fast!”
Punctuating Engine Room’s point, the ship juddered as another
weapons blast seared off more hull plating. She kept her voice even. “Define
‘ruffled.’”
“Damage Control Six, to the aft bays, now!” Engine Room shouted off-
screen before returning his attention to her. “The fuel lines, Command. They
aren’t built to withstand this heat. If they go, we’ll lose the ship!”
“If we don’t outrun the Virus, they will assimilate our mainframe,” she
said. The feathers on her back were screaming. “I will lose the Coatl before I
let that happen. Do what you can, Engine Room. We’re only a few solar units
away from the Hololattice network.”
“My Wing obeys,” muttered Engine Room, closing the vid.
The transmission winked out. For a moment, Sakora saw only the
nebula, a coruscating symphony of colors rushing before them. “Like infinite
poetry,” Valiksa had whispered once, as they leaned into each other, hiding
in the crannies of the observation deck where no one could see them. “Lines
carved into eternity, a language we spend our lives yearning to translate...”
An emergency blare from a console behind her. Sakora blinked,
rubbing Valiksa’s blood from her face. She’d been lost in reminiscence, like a
hatchling on an updraft. She was currently Captain, front of the V—how
many seconds had she wasted? Had anyone noticed?
There were no furious shouts, no calls for her to be relieved, no
change in the atmosphere except for the increasing flutter of the deck as the
ship approached 130% acceleration. The engines were burning up, the hull
warping beyond repair. The pride of the Argent Flight—and under her
command it might never fly again. They might clip her wings for this...
No. Valiksa must be out of Surgery by now, must be… or else being
wheeled to the morgue…
The lump in her throat at the image of… no. No. I will not lose her. I
will not lose this ship. I just need to focus… I just need...
“I am relinquishing Captain,” she said, pressing the rotation command
on her console. Command Wing Sakora rotating from Captain, her computer
readout acknowledged. New position: Navigation. “Who’s on relief? Chekk?”
“I believe I am.”
Her voice. Sakora turned before she could stop herself, feathers
prickling in joy and relief. Every shoulder in the Command Wing loosened a
fraction. Valiksa was safe.
“Valiksa-lyr...” she said, without realizing she’d whispered it. There she
was, her uniform soaked dark red... her eyes bright and her wings folded,
poised. “Valiksa... the surgery...”
“Was a complete success.” Valiksa attempted a smile. The bandage
stretched from her chin to her hips. “I’m cleared for Command duty. I’ll take
Captain.”
As her station slid backwards into Navigation, the second position in
the V-shaped order of the bridge, Sakora watched as Valiksa’s sleek form slid
expertly into the Captain console. Front and center, where she belonged.
“Navigation, course adjust,” said Valiksa, her voice smooth, unruffled,
as though she hadn’t just taken a Nekro anti-armor flechette to the torso.
Sakora stared at the mottled scar tissue on the Captain’s neck, relief
spreading through her. “Set bearing three-five-twelve-seven, hold twenty
three seconds, then bearing three-five…”
No more thinking. Sakora needed to be Navigation now. Her hands
took over. She was alive. They were both alive.
INCOMING:[NEWTRANSMISSION:(PRIORITYZERO)]
IDENT;UNIT8173.STATUS;OPERATIONAL.
LOCATION;TARGET.SUBLOCATION;BRIDGE.
COMMAND;UPDATE:”FLEETSTATUS”
{SETSTATE:CAPTURETARGET;MARKERS:[PRIME]}
FLEET.STATUS.UPDATED.ALLMARKERS[PRIME].
PRIORITYZERO.
“Captain!” shouted Sensors. “Nekro boarding craft accelerating!”
“That’s impossible!” Chekk said, standing up so rapidly his chair flew
into the station behind him. “We’re at maximum burn!”
“Command Wing, maintain your composure,” said Valiksa, her voice
steady and even. The ultraviolet across her face made her look even graver.
“Weapons, do we have nothing that can hit the boarding craft?”
A pained glance from Zulek. “Onboard? How many Fighter Wings at
launch strength?”
“One, but... Captain...” whispered Ikosavec. “At this velocity... the
Fighter Wing is... we’ll never recover them.”
She timed her hesitation precisely. A fraction shorter and she would
have looked cavalier in ordering the squadron to its doom. A moment longer
would signal weakness, indecision. Only Sakora even noticed.
“We cannot be boarded,” Valiksa said, turning to face the Command
Wing, her blood still glistening on her feathers. “If they make it on, the ship
is lost, and the mainframe with it. Patch me through to the Fighter Wing.”
Onboard nodded, the look in her eyes grim as she tapped her console.
“Pilots, this is Command.” Selfishly, Sakora closed her eyes in relief that she
was not the one to give this speech. “There is a second Nekro boarding craft
headed for the Coatl. Too many of our Flightmates gave their lives to repel
the first wave. There will be no repelling the second, unless that craft is
destroyed.”
 Again, that calculated hesitation. “As you know, we are at full engine UNAUTHORIZED TRANSMISSION blared from their consoles as every
burn. Once launched, your fighters will not be recoverable.” pair of eyes, feathers bristling, locked onto the Captain, whose console had
Valiksa stood, spreading her arms. The dozen faces of the last automatically shut down—the source of the leak. Valiksa’s eyes widened
remaining Fighter Wing appeared in the space before her. She wanted to with terror as she realized...
look each of them in the eyes. “In defending our ship from the first wave,” “Nanites,” she whispered, looking down at her wounds. “The damn
she said, spreading her wings to show them the full extent of her injuries, “I flechette was covered in nanites...”
nearly gave my life. But there is no ‘nearly’ in the order I am about to give “YOU!” shouted Chekk, leaping from his station, his voice
you. Pilots... you are exemplars of what it means to be Argent Flight. Many reverberating through the bridge. “Command Wing! Execute the traitor!”
feathers!” “NO!” screamed Sakora, leaping to place herself between Valiksa and
“ONE WING!” shouted the entire bridge, including the twelve tiny the others. “No! You’ll have to go through me!”
voices on the holovids. “Sakora?” Ikosavec whispered in horror as Sakora prepared to stand
“I order you not to your deaths,” Valiksa said, folding her wings back her ground. “You betray your Wing...? For her?”
behind her, “but to eternity. So long as the Argent Flight is remembered by Sakora blinked. Her wings were at full span, her talons spread and
the galaxy, so too shall your names. Pilots: Bring down that boarding craft. All ready... “I...” she began, taking in the rest of her Wing, who stared at her
our wind is with you now.” with expressions ranging from horror to fury. “For her... for her I would do
“TO ETERNITY!” shouted the pilots, their yellow eyes bright with anything.”
determination as they gripped their controls. The Command Wing watched There was a thud. Valiksa had collapsed, convulsing, the corruption in
as the squadron launched out, ship by ship, into the rainbow void of the her bloodstream sending her into arrest. As the Coatl soared towards her
nebula, never to return. doom, her Command Wing erupted into screeched shouting, officers falling
As one, every member of Command pulled up a display of the over each other as feather fought feather in a howling scrum of bodies, all
squadron’s vectors as they screamed to intercept the incoming boarding unity forgotten.
craft. The room was soon filled with their radio chatter as the pilots closed on Outside, in the scintillating glow, the Nekro swarmed.
their target.
“Six, you take point defenses, Nine, hit the engines—”
“Steady as we go in, don’t let it slip—”
“Incoming anti-fighter barrage, everyone forward shields!”
“I’m hit! I’m hit! I’m going to try and ram the—”
Sakora closed her eyes as the first fighter vanished from the display.
“Evasive! Evasive!”
“This is Ten, they’re launching fighters—”
“Break off, break off!”
“Three, watch out!”
A shriek from Sensor’s console. “Captain,” said Sensors, in a voice that
drew everyone’s view. “Captain, I...”
There was no need to explain. Right ahead of them, barreling so fast
Sakora flinched back in terror, was a Nekro ship. The Alastor.
“NAVIGATION!”
Sakora slammed on the controls. The Coatl screamed to obey as she
burned out every thruster they had to prevent them from splintering on the
Alastor’s bow. Warning lights lit up her console as Sakora subjected the ship
to forces it was never designed to endure, hull section after hull section
fracturing, close to snapping. The Coatl dove past the Alastor by a matter of
kilometers, veering wildly off course.
“It’s turning!” shouted someone, Sakora didn’t know who. The Nekro
flagship was turning, moving to smash into them...
If she’d pushed any harder her fingers would have cracked the
durasteel. Engine six, unable to maintain the level of output Sakora was
demanding, finally flared out, white-blue wash winking to black, and the
other engines weren’t far behind.
Just a little... farther…
“Onboard!” she shouted as she pushed the ship just out of reach of
the Alastor, all six kilometers of duranium and plassteel screaming as she
careened them off into the nebula once more. “Onboard, get me more
power!”
“That’s all she’s got!” Ikosavec said nervously as the bridge watched
the massive Nekro flagship speed past their viewports. No one had ever
gotten this close to the heart of the Nekro fleet and survived... “Captain,
Engine Room says—”
A screeching blare sounded as an alarm bathed the room in red light.
UNAUTHORIZED TRANSMISSION.
“Captain, the mainframe!” shrieked Onboard as a blinding white light
pierced the bridge.

BROADCAST;DOWNLOADCOMPLETE
UNIT8173;DEPLOY.NEWTECH:“AERIE HOLOLATTICE”
DEPLOY.
DEPLOY.
DEPLOY.

The Command Wing watched in horror as bright, shining light unfurled

from the Alastor, reaching its hard fingers deep into the nebula, surrounding
the Coatl for parsecs. A bright wall of white, the Aerie Hololattice, the top-
secret defense system that was supposed to keep their homeworld safe from
Nekro incursion...
 ARTIFACT The pair chased the faint signal, skimming close to the moon’s surface,
even abandoning their vigil on the instruments to crane their heads forward,
scanning the ground. Suddenly Tai pointed, and Dart nodded, spotting it just
The Best Guess skated over rocky terrain studded with strands of
a second later. Something that hadn’t been found anywhere else on the little
petrified vegetation and vast fissures of glittering minerals. The former,
moon: in the smallest of crevices, between two jutting shards of rock, there
though full of the sort of fossils that made the exobiologists excited, paled in
was a glow of light.
importance next to the latter, which held a level of richness that had made
The two landed the ship in an uncharacteristic silence, Tai hopping up
the whole Naaz-Rokha Alliance pay attention. The lumpy little spheroid —
onto his perch on Dart’s harness without a word, not wanting to risk his
once a part of a planet, then jettisoned by a massive impact and sent hurtling
diminutive speed slowing their pace. They stepped through the thin mouth
for eons through the void, and finally sucked into the gravity well of a gas
of the crevice and saw something stranger still: a vast cavern stretched
giant as an adopted moon — had suddenly gained enough strategic
inside, and a structure crouched within it, a battered bronze mass still
importance for the Alliance to send their biggest “expedition vessel,” the
exuding a wan glow from a light above two massive doors. The building was
Naq’aa, to investigate.
shrouded in rubble — not the shale that covered the planet’s surface, but a
This had been a lucky break for Dart and Tai, who had seen their
denser kind of boulder, and thick streams of a dry brownish earth, seemingly
chance for adventure and promptly signed on to the crew. However, they
protected from the journey through space that had leached the life from
quickly found themselves stuck flying a dingy ship on surveying missions
everything else.
across the lumpy gray rock, eyes fixed on their instruments, recording the
“This is…” Dart let out a long whistle. “I can’t identify a single part of
data to guide mining teams to vast deposits of ore, the wealth of which it
it. Can you?”
became increasingly obvious they would never see. Dart and Tai were the
“Unfortunately, I too am without a clue,” Tai echoed, shaking his head.
resilient sort, but even they were finding it difficult to keep their interest in
“But let me see if I can coax this open…”
the tasks at hand.
Dart crouched to help Tai leap off of his back, and the diminutive Naaz
Tai awoke from a mid-survey nap, rubbing the sleep from his left eye
strode forward, scratching absently at his eyepiece while his other three
and powering up his monolens. The way Dart’s tail flicked back and forth and
arms examined the door material for possible writing, keypads, or anything
his narrowly slitted golden eyes scanned the horizon told Tai something was
that might be useful. Long minutes passed, and the tension drained into
amiss. But the Naaz wasn’t about to let on that he was excited by this turn of
boredom. Finally, Tai shook his head, standing back in appraisal while Dart
events.
sat down cross-legged.
Tai cleared his throat, eliciting a spare glance from his companion.
“I believe that this is something more resembling a cargo exit,” he
“You are aware this runs counter to our plan?”
mused. “Although hopefully we are not too far away from the front do — ”
“What d’you mean?”
There was a sudden grinding noise and both froze, seeing an oval
Tai snorted, suppressing a yawn as he turned to face his friend, trying
entrance iris open on an exposed section of the building. Tai looked behind
not to wince as the seat squeaked shrilly. The Best Guess was — to put it
him to see Dart grinning sheepishly and slowly getting up. On the ground
favorably — an antique, and its age showed in the modding the pair had to
beneath him, a small cylinder-shaped form sparked, the smell of ozone
inflict on it to make it suitable for a Naaz co-pilot’s smaller frame. “The plan,
whispering into the cavern.
Dart,” he repeated. “You know, the one that we artfully constructed? Stick
“Did you…” Tai looked up at Dart in bewilderment. “Did you actually
with the expedition, do the surveys, earn the credits, then explore the
open the door by sitting on the security lock?”
exciting reaches of the universe?”
“What can I say?” Dart shrugged. “I’m a genius.”
The Rokha shrugged, and turned his attention to the sudden flash of a
Tai snorted but found himself unable to entirely quash a little laugh,
warning light, dancing his right hand across the controls in a sequence that
and hopped back on the Rokha’s broad back. The moment of levity over, the
Tai then effortlessly completed. “What?” Dart said breezily. “This is a
two carefully moved to the entryway, and very cautiously — a new feeling
survey. We’re surveying.”
for the both of them — stepped over the threshold.
“I was not so occupied with my drowsing that I neglected to notice
The darkness around them was oppressive, heavy with age. A tap on
how we have strayed off-course.”
Dart’s harness sent out a pair of tiny drones to light up the passageway, but
“Didn’t wanna bother you, and figured you’d be keen enough on it
even their lights provided little illumination. “This is weird,” Dart whispered,
that I should just go for it.”
his voice raspy. “I’ve seen what looks like writing around here, but I can’t
Tai frowned, his upper right hand scratching unconsciously at his
make sense of any of it.”
cybernetic eyepiece, still doing his best to veil any interest. “You should be
“Agreed.” Tai frowned at the display on his eyepiece, swiveling his
well acquainted with the fact that it is very difficult to ‘bother’ me with
head around in an attempt to find something that made sense. “Those — I
anything truly interesting.” The Naaz raised an eyebrow at the small grin
suppose they are some kind of power conduit — even they are carrying a
that snuck along his friend’s ebony-furred face. “So, what are we dealing
signature that does not match any that I recognize.”
with here?”
They turned a corner and stopped suddenly, seeing the large central
Dart tapped a claw on the guidance system, pointing to a vague
room ahead mostly buried in rubble and soil. “That’s it, then,” Dart sighed,
reading almost too faint to register. “That fun li’l anomaly. Nothing like it in
but Tai couldn’t tell if it was more out of relief or irritation. “I guess we
any trips we took before, nothing even close to that power signature.”
should — ”
Tai leaned back, doing his best to feign indifference, despite knowing
A sparking sound interrupted them, and a door — which either of
Dart had been an expert at sounding out the Naaz’s moods since they were
them could have sworn a moment ago simply wasn’t there — irised open,
children. “No chance it is an error?”
lights beyond it flickering on, a wan honey-colored glow. “Creepy,” both said
“Nah. Ran diagnostics on em’ twice before we left. One of the newer
at once, but neither could help themselves from walking in.
systems we got in this pile.” The Rokha rapped a knuckle affectionately on
Rows and rows of machines greeted them within, holding cylinders of
the bulkhead next to him. “And signal’s not from an ore vein, either. Last
samples, still glowing with a faint light. Dart peered closer at one of them
quake was a while back, scanned plenty since. This ain’t it.”
and gasped in shock. “I recognize this thing,” he stammered, pointing at a
The Naaz steepled all four hands together, face serious. “If this is as
strange multi-headed worm, dead but perfectly preserved. “It was from one
strange as you say, why should we not just report it to command? Head back
of the fossils the exobiologists were goin’ on about. Didn’t catch everything,
with the details, so the Naq’aa can send a larger crew to investigate?”
but they made a big deal about being a ‘singular find’ — no kind of anything
Dart gave a semi-exasperated sigh and finally turned his golden eyes
like this critter anywhere else.”
to his companion, bright with excitement. “C’mon, Tai. Do you really wanna
“So you mean…” Tai suddenly took in the volume of the whole room,
get sidelined while those dataheads make all the discoveries, get all the
and the samples around them — flora and fauna, the latter all dead but
credit? What about the glory?”
perfectly preserved, as if time had stopped the moment they ceased to live—
Tai finally relented, sighing in mock despair. “Very well, if you insist.
and gasped. “All of these came from this place when it was a planetoid,
So much for the plan.”
when it had life on it.”
“This is still the plan,” Dart corrected, grinning. “We’re just skipping to
Dart nodded. “Native species.” He couldn’t help but giggle, sounding
the fun part.”
slightly hysterical. “The scientists would die of shock.”
“I might too!” Tai hissed. “That makes this place eons old, Dart! Can
–––––––––––––
you think of — ” The Naaz cut himself off suddenly, squinting at a light in the
near distance. “What’s over there?” Obligingly, Dart crept forward, out of
the forest of cylinders, and froze in sudden alarm at the scene ahead.
The room opened up, curled around a large central sarcophagus,
draped with wires and humming cables like the roots of a great bronze tree.
A figure, sleek in shape but giant in size — easily over three meters — lay
only mostly inside the sarcophagus, a few of the cables attached to it as if in
haste, one hand fallen to the side with something clutched tight within.
Lights from the vessel and the wires around it glowed, but it did not move.
“What is that?” Tai whispered, and he felt Dart’s fur stand up on end.
“I was really hoping you’d know,” he replied. There was a long pause.
“We should go.”
Another long pause. “Then… why are you not moving?”
Dart gave a sharp sigh. “Because… I think I’m gonna do something
stupid.”
“It is not stupid, it is inquisitive,” asserted Tai. “Now hurry up.”
The Rokha stepped forward hesitantly, moving in careful steps
towards the faintly humming sarcophagus, and carefully studied the figure.
Tai suddenly felt an urgent thought scratch at him, and tried to search the
Alliance database for a match to the strange power signature he’d seen in
the power cables. As Dart leaned down to see what the figure grasped,
gingerly prying the fingers away, Tai suddenly gasped, his body stiffening in
fear.
“D-Dart,” he stammered. “The energy signature, it was recorded once
before.” He gulped. “On the Acheron Expedition…”
He was interrupted by the hollow sound of metal hitting the floor.
Dart had just finished prying open the figure’s hands, and from it rolled a
shape of dull brass, misshapen and covered with a long-dried liquid. There
was a moment of silence, broken only by Dart’s rough gulp.
“That’s a head.”
“It… appears to be. In a gilded helmet.”
“Crushed.”
“Thoroughly.”
Dart looked back at his friend, and though Tai couldn’t see much of his
face, he could feel how badly the Rokha was trembling. “Read something
about helmets like this one. Places that kept lots of samples. And made
things like… like that,” he finished with a rasp, gesturing to the thing in the
sarcophagus. “You don’t think…”
“Mahact.” The name chilled them both to the bone, trembling. Gene
sorcerers, terrors of the universe, tales so old they passed into legend, few
even imagining all they were said to have done, all their hideous deeds, could
have been real. But the Acheron Expedition had proven to the horror of all
galactic citizens that nothing had been an exaggeration. “But… if it were
true, if this was their lab… what could possibly…”
“…crush its head like it was nothing?” finished Dart. “I dunno. And I
think we better leave before we — ”
The Rokha howled in sudden alarm as the hand he’d just pried open
seized his arm, stopping him in his tracks. Tai cried out in shock, wanting
both to flee and to stay with his friend, and they screamed for a few seconds
before they heard the voice.
“Please…”
In a sudden startled silence, the pair looked at the figure in the
sarcophagus as it slowly stirred, its body glowing with a faint inner light. “I…
am sorry… to alarm you,” it continued. It let go of Dart’s arm, but the Rokha
found himself unable to move. “I do not… know. Where… I am?”
It was a long moment before either of the newcomers registered that
as a question. “Unfortunately, neither do we,” Tai said slowly. “We were
completing a survey of this place, found an unusual energy signal,
investigated, and… here you were.”
The face of the figure — as much as a flat plate could be called such —
cycled through some soft colors, as if going through a range of strange
emotions. “I have… no memory of this place. Nor you… either of you.”
“Doesn’t seem too odd,” Dart said slowly. “I dunno how long you’ve
been in here, but I’m guessing eons, since before this place became a moon,
even before it got hit by an asteroid and became a rock in the stars.” He
shrugged carefully. “Either of our species might not’ve even evolved by
then.”
The colors on the figure’s face flashed more rapidly, and Dart nearly
stumbled as he backed up, seeing it take hold of the cables attached to it and
pull them out, seeming to regard them with curiosity for a moment before
pushing them aside. Like a Naaz taking its first steps, it grasped the sides of
the vessel and hauled itself to its feet, surveying the area as if for the first
time. “The planet… was shattered? Into space?” Its gaze scanned the room,
and the hue of its faceplate was dark.
“All of these things here, recorded, to be learned… all now lost. Lost…
and I have no answers.”
“If it helps,” Tai offered quietly. “I believe you might be what we call a
‘titan.’ An ancient species. The… the Mahact” — he gestured awkwardly at
the crushed head on the floor — “created you to serve them.” He paused,
and the air felt hotter. “You do not… still serve them, do you? I mean, we
would like to think not, but…”
The Naaz trailed off as dull colors wandered across the titan’s blank
face. “I have no memory of them,” it said at last. “I do not know them any
more than I know you. Or myself.”
There was a long moment, stretching in silence until Dart blurted,
“Can we help you somehow?”
All of the individuals seemed startled by the question, but the titan
seemed the most perplexed. “I do not know,” it said at last. “I only
remember that… I want to learn.” It took unsteady steps forward, reaching
out its hand and taking a hold of the sample closest to it, a small plant, and
running its fingers gingerly over its long leaves. “And… and to remember.”
Both Tai and Dart gasped as the hand of the titan suddenly changed —
for a moment, its fingers became like the leaves of the plant it had held, long
and lush, as if the titan were testing what it was like to be as the plant had
been.
“Remarkable,” Tai gasped. He looked up at the titan, which regarded
him inscrutably. “Can you do that with anything?”
“I do not know. I only know I want to learn.”
“Maybe we can help with that.” The titan looked toward Dart, and
even Tai looked down at him curiously. “We might not have any answers,
but we know people who might have some. Maybe not the ones you’re
looking for, sure, but I’m pretty sure they’d love a chance to get to know you
and share anything they can figure out.”
“Share.” It held the word, as if tasting it. “What is this?”
“To give in kind. Like this — I’m Dart, this is Tai — we’re glad to meet
you. That’s a greeting, and our names. What about you?”
“Glad… to meet you.” If the titan had a brow, the colors made it seem
as though it would be furrowed. “I have no name.” The titan paused, and
then addressed Dart directly. “You,” it said, pointing. “Perhaps I shall be
Dart II.”
Tai snorted.
“H-how about Junior instead?” Dart offered. “I wouldn’t want anyone
to get us confused, we already look so… uh… alike.”
The titan tilted its head, pensive for a moment, and nodded solemnly.
“Yes. Yes, this is true.” It turned, looking away from the pair. “Junior.” It
mouthed the word slowly and deliberately, as if feeling its shape. “Yes. I like
that name, and I would also like to come with you.”
Dart sighed, relieved. “Well… this will require some explaining back at
the base. But somehow I think they will find it acceptable.”
Tai nodded in agreement as he scrambled up to perch on the Rokha’s
shoulder. “We should get moving. I want to load some of that — ” he
gestured toward the corpse, grimacing, “onto the ship, and with Junior in the
Best Guess, we’re not going to have a lot of room…”
 SHADOW OPERATION The two sat in the conference room for a long moment. Finally, the
feathers along Kuuasi’s arms spread and shivered slightly: the Shikrai
equivalent of a shrug. “Then I suppose we are at an impasse.”
“You understand what we’re giving you?”
“Indeed,” Nebozev replied. He took a sip of his avolac, and his eyes
She smiled wryly. “Opportunity, right? Become part of something
relaxed slightly. “Until the Council elects the third Tribunii. Then we see
greater, rise up through the ranks of this brand-new organization? The
which of us can convince our new colleague to back our plan.”
proverbial ‘chance to make a name for myself?’” Her smirk faded as she
waited for a response.
Mita breathed out slowly and pulled the trigger. The dart-caster
Finally: “You’re an expert sharpshooter, Operative. You train to
coughed, and the guard at the Aedificium’s side entrance collapsed. Before
change the course of a battle with a single shot. But in the Keleres, your kills
the body hit the ground, Tik’Ak and the rest of the assault team were flowing
will change the course of history. That’s not opportunity, Operative.
up the alleyway. A flash of brilliant blue as he cut through the door with his
“That’s responsibility.”
beam rifle, and the three Keleres were inside.
High up on the support struts of Mecatol City’s southwestern storm barriers,
“Clearing the storage room,” Tik’Ak said. A pause, then, “at the side
Zik Mita swung gently in her sniper’s harness.
entrance to the main theater now. No resistance, and the music should
She knew that between the darkness and her chameleonic skin, she
provide a distraction. Going in quiet.”
should be nearly invisible. That didn’t stop her gut from churning. Fear,
Another long pause. Then, “Target is in his box, along with both
certainly. But under the fear, deep in her mind, she also felt a heady,
bodyguards. Moving for a clear shot.”
intoxicating thrill.
“Wait,” Silana Silonias, one of the assault team, said. “I think there’s a
She closed her eyes. Responsibility, remember. Plenty of time to
third guard across the theater—”
enjoy making history when we’re done. She counted slowly to five. Then,
The snarl of beam rifles cut through the comms, followed by staccato
moving with glacial slowness, she raised her dart-caster to her eye and
bursts of some sort of projectile weapon. Then Mita heard screaming.
panned it over the streets below.
“Damnit!” One of the Aedificium’s windows exploded outward, and
The towering colonnade of the Aedificium Magna Canticus appeared
through the shimmering plasticon shards, she saw flashes of weapons fire
clearly in her rifle’s scope, a soft purple light spilling from the vast double
and panicked movement.
doors and illuminating the few late audience members streaming into the
“Assault team, report!”
grand opera. Mita panned left, past the valets in fine regalia and guards
“Hoang is hit,” Tik’Ak said. “Silonias is attempting medical aid, but
lurking discreetly in the shadows of the columns. She moved down the
we’ve dealt with two—” he paused, and Mita heard a heavy, wet thunk.
street, finally focusing on the lee of a massive dust dune that half blocked the
There was an agonized shout, suddenly interrupted by another liquid
road. She could just make out the shapes crouched in its shadow: a Human,
chopping sound. “—make that three hostile guards.”
a Winnu, and a hulking N’orr, all three festooned with weapons and gear.
“What about the target? Tik’Ak, did you get the target?”
A voice breathed through her comm. “Ulpsa, your mission is
“Negative, Lead. Target escaped.”
approved. Proceed.”
“Acknowledged, Control.” She switched to her team’s channel.
Nine weeks previously…
“Assault team ready?”
Kuuasi caught up to Nebozev on the open promenade that ran along
“We’re in position,” came Tik’Ak’s chittering hiss, “As you can see,
the perimeter of the Council chambers, the towering, inverted ziggurat in the
Lead.” In her scope, the N’orr looked toward her and threw a mocking salute
heart of Mecatol City. Up here they were exposed to the full force of the
with his massive forelimbs.
bitter winds that whipped in from the Sea of Desolation. Normally, the biting
Mita chuckled. “Stand by, then. Support ready?”
cold soothed Kuuasi, reminding him of happier years spent on Avar. Now, it
“Freezing my butt for the last hour, Lead. I thought being a Keleres
was all he could do not to grab Nebozev and hurl him over the edge.
was supposed to be exciting,” Adriana Merceda grumbled.
“Tripling Keleres recruitment?” he shouted. “Doubling the budget for
“Humans have more fur than Yssaril do,” Murargh Gravor growled.
arms and armor?”
“So if Mita isn’t complaining, you shouldn’t be.”
Nebozev raised his hands, a pained expression on his face. “Kuuasi, I
“Says the Saar tucked into his nice warm aircar,” Merceda shot back.
wish this could have been handled differently—”
“… if you two are quite finished,” Mita cut in. “Escape ready?”
Kuuasi angrily waved his words away. “You asked the Council to
“Powered up and ready to go,” Gravor said.
authorize military advisors and training officers from the Barony! You
“Good. We have received clearance to proceed. The target entered
requested assassination powers!”
the Aedificium twenty minutes ago. The show should be beginning right…
“I’m simply doing what I feel is necessary.”
about…”
Kuuasi’s glare never wavered. “What happened to waiting for the
As if on cue, the valets moved to seal the main doors. Through the
third Tribunii’s election? Was that a lie? Or were you just doing what was
building’s towering windows, she saw the lights dim, then brighten as the
necessary?”
first performers took the stage.
At this, Nebozev looked away, pale-blue cheeks flushing a darker gray.
Mita smiled. “I love this part,” she whispered to herself. Then, louder,
“I am sorry, Kuuasi. But… I believe you will understand, in the end.”
“Proceed as planned! Cohort Ulpsa, go!”
“I don’t expect to have the chance,” Kuuasi snapped. “I’ll bring my
own proposal to the Council.”
Twelve weeks previously…
Nebozev still couldn’t meet his gaze. “Don’t bother, Kuuasi,” he said
“Artrel, you must understand,” Kuuasi Aun Jalatai said. It took all his
softly. “The rest of the Barony’s delegation has spent the last week ensuring I
self-control to keep his facial feathers from ruffing. “The last thing our galaxy
have the votes. My proposals will pass in the next few days. Well before you
needs is another army.”
can even finish drafting yours.”
Across the table, Viscount Artrel Duvos Patorin Nebozev, Letnev
Nebozev looked like he wanted to say something else. But, after a
Councilor of Wren Terra and newly appointed Tribunii, swirled his tumbler of
long moment, he sighed and walked away.
twice-aged avolac and smiled. “Come, Kuuasi. I think that’s exactly what we
need. The Keleres were founded to deal with threats like the Mahact, yes?
“Where did he go, Assault? Can you pursue?”
So, shouldn’t we arm and train them accordingly? It’s not so different from
“Target fled through the stage exit, Lead,” Tik’Ak responded.
the approach your Argent Flight took, is it?”
“Negative on the pursuit.”
Kuuasi shook his head. “An approach that failed, Artrel. The Mahact,
“Acknowledged.” Mita focused her scope on the alley behind the
the L1Z1X, the Nekro Virus: if they could be eliminated in a straight fight, one
Aedificium. Sure enough, the target was sprinting down the center. She
of the Great Powers on the Council already would have! The Keleres may
couldn’t keep the tight smile from stealing across her face. “Firing!”
need soldiers in its cohorts, but it also needs diplomats, investigators,
Her first shot went wide, the high-velocity barb blowing a gaping hole
researchers, and even spies. Your proposal for organizing the Keleres is going
in a trash receptacle two feet away. She caught herself before she pulled the
to turn it into the Council’s private military, one more toy for the councilors to
trigger again, breathed out, let her body go still… only to have something fill
squabble over.”
her scope and block her shot.
Nebozev sighed, his smile slipping from his face as his blank, blue-
Mita looked up and saw an aircar settling down just by the target,
white eyes narrowed. “And your proposal would leave the Keleres toothless.”
partially obscuring her view. The door slid open, and she caught a glimpse of
the target diving inside. Then the aircar was aloft again, rising quickly. She
swore to herself.
“Target is mobile,” she said, switching the ammo selector on her dart-
caster. “Time for the contingency.”
She fired and hissed with relief when she saw the dart strike the rear
of the aircar. Strike, and stick. “Support, you’re up.”
“Fiiinally,” Merceda sighed. “I was worried I wouldn’t have any fun.”
From the roof of a building a block away, there was a brief flash. A
moment later Mita heard the sharp crack of something punching through the
sound barrier.
The aircar had plenty of active and passive countermeasures, and it
instantly slewed into an evasive spiral as it dumped crackling clouds of
electrified chaff. But it didn’t matter. The sliver missile homed in unerringly
on Mita’s beacon dart and tore the vehicle to scraps of burning metal.
The door to the Tribunii’s offices hissed open, and the medical team
charged through. They dashed across the thick carpet to where a pair of
Keleres bodyguards were beckoning to them frantically. Both were on their
knees, next to the prone form of Tribunii Kuuasi.
“We found him like this,” one of the guards, a lieutenant in charge of
Kuuasi’s protection detail, shouted to the medics. She gestured to a glass
lying next to Kuuasi, pungent firespice liqueur spilled across the floor. “The
automedicum says his vitals are nearly flatlined across the board. I think it
might be poison.”
The chief medic nodded. “We need to move, then. A full hospital may
be his only chance.” He looked over his shoulder. “Get me that grav-plate
and a stabilizer kit!”
Quickly, the team began prepping Kuuasi for transport. As the two
guards stood by, a third came into the office. “Lieutenant… I…”
The lieutenant glanced over at him. “Yes?”
The guard looked worried. “Maybe we should talk outside?”
“Damnit, Ulgrav, I don’t have time for this,” the lieutenant snarled.
“Either talk or move yourself out of the room!”
The guard paled, then straightened. “Lieutenant, I just got word.
Nebozev was killed ten minutes ago.”
Everyone, even the medics, paused. “What did you say?” the second
guard asked.
“He was at the Aedificium Magna Canticus, and someone shot the
place up. When he escaped, they took out his aircar with a missile.”
For a long moment, nobody moved. Then there was a weak cough.
The lieutenant’s eyes snapped to the grav-plate, to see Kuuasi gazing back
with pain-wracked eyes. The Tribunii raised a shuddering talon and pointed
to his desk. “Check… my… savant,” he gasped. Then he fell back, eyes
closed.
“All right,” the chief medic snapped. “Let’s get him moving, or we’ll
have two dead Tribunii tonight.”
Just on the far side of the storm barriers, Cohort Ulpsa struggled
through the dust drifts that filled the roads between ruined buildings. It was
slow going with Tik’Ak supporting the limping Doran Hoang, but neither of
them complained. They were alive, and in the ruins of the old, devastated
city districts that bled into the Sea of Desolation. With any luck, nobody
would ever find them here.
“Extraction point in sight,” Silonias said, pointing to a mostly intact
hab-tower looming ahead of them. The Winnu looked back at Mita. “What’s
wrong?”
Mita shook her head and held up the comms device. “I can’t get a
response from Control.”
“You bust it when you were rappelling off the wall back there?”
Merceda asked.
Mita tapped the screen. “No, it’s working fine. Just — no answer.”
The cohort lapsed into an uneasy silence as they reached the lee of
the hab-tower. As the rest of the team passed into the portico, Mita
switched her comm. “Escape, how’s it looking up there?”
“I’ve got the baffle nets off, and I’m ready to leave,” Gravor replied.
Then he growled. “Wait. There’s something—”
The top of the hab-tower exploded.
Mita dove to the ground, scrambling into cover as shards of
permacrete crashed down around her. She looked as a pair of starfighters
screamed overhead, then rose into the clouds.
The comms exploded with panicked shouts from the rest of Ulpsa.
Cursing, Mita grabbed for her dart-caster, then her own comm.
“Listen up!” she shouted. “Spread out before those fighters come
back. Tik’Ak, Silana, dig in at the portico. Doran, watch the building’s rear.
Merceda, get high!”
“They just killed Gravor,” Hoang yelled. “Who the hell are they?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Tik’Ak growled. “We have our orders; now move!”
Mita took a moment to look around. By chance she had ended up in a
good sniper’s nest: a protected corner where thick stone planters abutted
the hab-tower’s walls. She took a long breath, then smoothly raised her rifle
over the lip of a planter and looked around.
The fighters hadn’t banked around for another pass. In fact, Mita
couldn’t see them at all, and she shifted her view to study the approaches
between the two nearest storm barriers back toward Mecatol City. Sure
enough, a trio of bulky assault cutters were flying straight for their position.
“We’ve got transports inbound, northwest,” she said.
“I see them,” Merceda growled. “Taking them out.”
“No, wait—”
Before Mita could finish the sentence, a fifth-story window above her
exploded outward as a pair of sliver missiles shot toward the cutters. One
suddenly veered up and disappeared into the night sky, victim to the cutters’
electronic countermeasures. The other struck its target just as it banked,
tearing a glancing blow across one of the wing engines. Trailing smoke, the
cutter headed for the ground in what looked to be a barely controlled crash
landing.
Merceda’s whoop of triumph was abruptly cut off as heavy beam
weapons carved into the hab-tower, chewing through the façades of the
fifth, sixth, and seventh stories. Mita swore. Of course, the starfighters
wouldn’t have left. Sure enough, glancing skyward, she saw a flicker of
movement among the clouds, far out of range of anything her team had.
Or what was left of her team.
The two remaining cutters banked hard and came down in the broad
street in front of the hab, engines screaming. Through the billowing dust
clouds, Mita could see armored figures jumping from the hatches. She didn’t
need to say anything.
Cohort Ulpsa opened up with everything they had left. Beams of blue
energy flashed out from Tik’Ak and Silonias’s positions, supported by the
staccato chattering of Hoang’s carbine. Mita squeezed off shot after shot
with her dartcaster, forgoing stealth and pumping out high-explosive darts
that tore into their attackers. Two went down, then a third. But they were
firing back.
Mita heard Silonias’s scream, abruptly cut off. Tik’Ak roared in pain
and rage; then he was charging past her, into the open, glaive swinging. A
crashing volley slammed into him, and the attackers were charging forward,
firing into the N’orr at point-blank range as he struggled to rise. Mita’s finger
slackened on the trigger.
They were Winnarans. The attackers were Winnaran Custodian Guard.
She opened her mouth to shout at them to stand down, to explain
there was some mistake. But the Custodians had already lost too many of
their own in the assault. Grenade lobbers coughed, and explosions ripped
across the portico of the hab-tower. A moment later the whole front of the
building collapsed, burying Mita, Hoang, and the bodies of their comrades in
rubble.
Two hours ago…
Kuuasi sat at his office desk, his evening glass of firespice liqueur
sitting untouched at his side. He stared at his savant, at the glowing green
wireframe model of the towering Aedificium Magna Canticus spinning slowly
on the screen.
He took out his comms device and activated it. “Control here.”
“Cohort Ulpsa ready,” Zik Mita’s soft tones responded.
He waited a long moment, then closed his eyes. “Ulpsa, your mission
is approved. Proceed.”
“Acknowledged, Control.”
Kuuasi waited another minute, then he stood. He set the comms
device in his office’s secure disposal unit and activated the vaporizer. Then he
erased the plans of the Blanc from his savant, along with several other files.
Finally, he called up a new set of files on the savant and left them open.
These detailed a very lengthy, and very fictional, investigation into a rogue
Keleres cohort that Kuuasi had been conducting over the past few weeks.
With that done, he took out a small vial of powder from his robes and
poured it into his drink. As he disposed of the vial and raised his glass to his
beak, he thought that it certainly would be a just irony if he’d gotten the dose
wrong, and the poison did its work too well.
Then he took a long gulp, and waited.
 Three days later…
The Winnaran custodians had been thorough. They had swept the
shattered hab-tower for the bodies of the rogue Keleres with scanners and
floating familiars. But besides the N’orr, the Ulpsa had been caught in a
storm of heavy weapons fire and collapsing permacrete. In most cases, all
they found were… pieces.
So eventually, they left. Tribunii Kuuasi, still confined to his hospital
bed, was pushing ahead with a massive internal investigation to find out who
had nearly succeeded in decapitating the Keleres leadership. Evidence had
already surfaced pointing to treachery on the part of some of the late
Nebozev’s allies in the Keleres. Several had refused to be taken alive, and
the Tribunii needed all the aid the Custodians could offer.
Hours after the last transport lifted off, several chunks of permacrete
tumbled down the slope of a debris pile. A figure, one who seemed to blend
perfectly with the wreckage around her, slowly climbed out of a hollow
between two collapsed beams.
Mita coughed and struggled to her feet. One of her arms ended with a
mangled stump and makeshift tourniquet. The other slowly reached to her
belt and pulled out her battered comm.
She looked at the cracked screen of the device, her face set. She
remembered the thrill she had felt, knowing she was about to change the
course of galactic history. That feeling, along with her nervous fear, was well
and truly dead now.
“I guess responsibility only works one way,” she said quietly. “I’ll keep
that in mind.”
Then Mita tossed the comm away. Even on foot, she could reach the
Mourta District by nightfall. There was a gunrunner there who owed her a
favor, and she was going to need a new rifle.

THE LAZAX EMPIRE
GREAT RULERS OF ANTIQUITY
“Remember the peace of the Emperors!”
—Emperor Salai Sai Corian
For tens of thousands of years, the Lazax ruled. Benevolent
and fair, they shared the wealth and knowledge of the universe
with their subjects.
THE CODEX IMPERIUM
ORDINIAN: THE OMEGA INITIATIVE
Rin closed her eyes, letting the OmegaIAS43 saturate her system, the
acrid, somewhat viscous serum washing over her gills. Then, as a single
radiant flame appeared in the dark recesses of her mind, it began. Pathways
— memories — connected in rapid succession, and the legacy of the Jol-Nar
flowed through her consciousness, searing, burning, begging to be freed. She
gritted her teeth. The pain was intense, but bearable. It seemed that the
Headmaster would get what he wanted after all.
ORDINIAN: IXTHIAN ARTIFACTS
Tai peered at the scepter from his perch on Dart’s shoulder. “Oh no,”
he squeaked in dismay.
Dart’s eyes gleamed and the corners of his mouth turned up, revealing
a fanged grin. “Oh yes. This. This is exactly what we came here for.”
Exasperated, Tai hopped deftly to the other shoulder, gesturing wildly.
“You know we d-didn’t. You always d-do this.”
Dart swatted at his diminutive friend. “Quit that. It’s fine. Relax.” He
reached out, his fur reflecting the scepter’s dull red glow, and after a
moment’s hesitation, he grabbed it.
With a quiet whir, the scepter came to life, the dull glow becoming a
brilliant crimson, and pieces of its grip spiraled into asynchronous orbit
around its head, impatiently awaiting its owner’s command.
Dart smiled mischievously. “Well, what do you think we should try
first?”
AFFINITY: JOINT RESOLUTION OF A FULL SEATING OF THE GALACTIC COUNCIL
Declaring that a new operational organization shall be established in
service to the Council, with the expressed aim of persecuting threats to the
stability and harmony of galactic civilization.
Whereas the recent rise of the ancient Mahact, long thought defeated
by the Lazax Imperium, has threatened the established order of galactic
power; and in light of previous existing threats that have grown in scope in
the years since this body’s reestablishment upon its traditional seat of
mediation, the various august and venerable civilizations of the Galactic
Council have unanimously agreed to establish a body of Keleres, whose sole
mission shall be the protection of galactic society.
In concordance with this agreement, the members of the Council have
approved the following forthwith and with all due solemnity of purpose.
––––––––––––
ITEM 1. The Keleres shall be a body tasked with investigating and
persecuting threats of galactic significance. In this remit they shall have all
authority as is their due, as representatives of the Galactic Council.
––––––––––––
ITEM 2. Each of the members of the Galactic Council shall provide an
equal contribution of personnel and materiel to support the Keleres,
organized and chosen at their sole discretion. Those assigned to the Keleres
must swear to cast off any burdens of allegiance they once had, and pledge
fealty to the Keleres and the Galactic Council for as long as their term of
service shall last.
––––––––––––
GUL SYSTEM
Population
Government
Unknown
Galactic Council
Leadership Winnaran Custodians
Disposition Deferential
Tendencies Imperial
MECATOL REX (IMPERIAL AGE) Resources 3 Influence 6
Seat to the Lazax, Mecatol Rex serves as home to the Galactic Council. Its
green fields are only interrupted by sprawling cities of unimaginable wealth.
MECATOL REX (PRESENT DAY) Resources 1 Influence 6
Once a splendid place, now a sad devastated wasteland. Only the radiation-
shielded Mecatol City, the seat of powerful Galactic Council, remains habitable.
PLANET 3 Resources 0 Influence 0
[description]
ITEM 3. The Keleres shall be overseen by three Tribunii, each chosen
by popular acclaim by the honorable representatives who sit upon the
Galactic Council. They shall serve at the Council’s pleasure, and will deliver
reports on the activities of the Keleres.
––––––––––––
ITEM 4. The Keleres shall have a holding set aside for them upon
Mecatol Rex, maintained by the Winnaran Custodians, with whom they shall
work closely but not report to.
So the Galactic Council has proclaimed, passed by unanimous vote of
all present representatives on this day.
Warrior poets, tyrants, philosopher kings, despots, divine emissaries,
abominations, benevolent masters, dictators, healers, butchers, wise men,
arrogant devils, diplomats, tormentors.
Emperors.
Study of the Lazax, aggregately termed Imperia, is paradoxically among the
most gratifying yet most frustrating of scholarly pursuits. Rife with
contradiction and passionate opinion, it’s a field that vastly transcends the
academic capacity of a single scholar or even that of a large and well-funded
university.
On the one hand, the Lazax were dutiful keepers of records, and their long
imperial rule (which is estimated to have lasted slightly over 24,000 human
years) make such records abundant. On the other hand, the majority of
preserved firsthand knowledge (primarily that which was kept intact by the
custodians on Mecatol Rex) are governmental ledgers, sanctioned historical
annals, legal edicts, and so on. With respect to introspective documents
revealing the personality and values of the Lazax personae, we are as poor as
we are rich in the former. Their artwork, their literature and music, their
constructs and cities were all mostly destroyed during the Twilight Wars.
What little remained was cast into the flames of oblivion, silenced forever
during the period of genocidal mass hysteria that was the Great Scourge.
Little to nothing is known of the Lazax before their rise to prominence. We
know that prior to the Lazax’s appearance on the stage of history, the
enlightened parts of the galaxy were dominated by the obscure dynasty of
Mahact kings, the gene-sorcerers. Archeological discovery indicates the
Mahact were already crumbling under the weight of their own debased
technologies when the final conflagration between their families caused their
ultimate decimation. It’s during the dilapidated years in the wake of the
Mahact’s demise that we find the first accounts of the Lazax, and evidence
that the last Mahact king was slain by the first Lazax Emperor himself.
Slowly but surely, the unequivocally brilliant, dynamic, and ambitious Lazax
civilization brought order and control to the wealthiest core systems. We
estimate more than 80 major systems were under their peaceful dominance
by the time the Emperor declared Mecatol the Empire’s central seat of
power, and there founded the Galactic Council.

THE EMIRATES OF HACAN
MASTERS OF COMMERCE
“There is no price too great for the Hacan, no silk too fine, and
no war too long. My people will persevere.”
—Hacan Carth
The wealth of half the galaxy flows through the coffers of the
nomadic trading clans of the Hacan, but being a traditional
people, they choose to remain secluded away in the dry deserts
of Kenara’s worlds, their ancestral homes.
Over the following millennia, the Lazax would generously and freely offer
protection and peace to other galactic races as they came into contact with
the empire. Most accepted.
While their famous edict, “generosity to the willing and fairness to the fair,”
may have been at the core of their dominion, Lazax enmity towards foes
must have been terrible. No plausible records exist for us to sympathize with
the Lazax’s early enemies. From that fact alone, we can conjecture to the
thoroughness of the empire’s punishment for malaadela (the Lazax term
describing non-conformity, also their adjective for “unreasonable”).
During the early millennia of the Pax Lazax, the relative military strength and
martial knowledge of the imperial race is described as being nothing less
than all-powerful, matched only by their exceptional devotion to balance and
order; the ever-renewing establishment of what they called the “universal
law of the sentient.”
And so the galaxy prospered for near twenty millennia.
As the Lazax enjoyed the fruits of this almost-endless golden age, so did the
Great Races of the Imperium. With such prosperity followed vast power; yet
even power can be freely and peacefully shared when the cup runneth over
and the future is perceived as one of endless abundance.
Alas, nothing lasts forever. Under waves of oceans of time, hard stone may
wear away, and even the wise may come to forget the bitter sting of winter.
In time, generosity may come to be perceived as a means of control, and
guidance as arrogance.
In time, the Empire began to reach both physical and technological
boundaries, and expansion slowed. With this slowdown, wealth and power
came to be perceived as finite, and it is from finite power that its three
wicked children are born: greed, corruption, and betrayal.
So followed the Age of Dusk, a time of intrigue, strife, and gathering storms.
It’s widely agreed that the downfall of the Lazax was their inability to
perceive the cancerous growth of suspicion and resentment among the races
of the empire. While the Imperial navy and army could comfortably deal
with any one rebellion of a major civilization, the emperors did not anticipate
what would actually happen: that almost half of the members of the Galactic
Council would turn violently against them at once and that the galaxy would
over a short period of time be embroiled in the great civil war we know as
the Age of Twilight.
In a final betrayal, the last Lazax Emperor, Salai Sai Corian, was killed during a
Sol assault directly on Mecatol Rex. In the ruthless urban battles for Mecatol
that followed, the Lazax were unable to regain control of their seat of power.
Already stretched thin by galaxy-wide conflict, and now without its Emperor
or its central administration, the Lazax Empire collapsed.
The remnant groups of the once-dominant Lazax found themselves
friendless. Their newfound humble stature was one to which they found it
difficult to adapt. Unable to change, clinging to the illusion of superiority,
they managed to only fan the already white-hot flames of hate towards
KENARA SYSTEM
Population
Government
8.82 billion
United Emirates
Leadership Quieron
Disposition Nomadic
Tendencies Economic
HERCANT Resources 1 Influence 1
Also called the “Fire Sand.” Seat of the Quieron, the Hacan council, and the
Sword Fleet. Harbors the greatest of the famous Hacan moving cities.
ARRETZE Resources 2 Influence 0
Also called the “Moving Sand.” The desert home of the Hacan Mowshir trade
families and the great orbital trading ports of Haal, Shimax, and Dry Wind.
KAMDORN Resources 0 Influence 1
Also called the “Dream Sand.” The least populated of the Hacan planets, but the
center of Hacan mythology and religion. The only known source of starflowers.
them. Thus followed the Great Scourge in which the Lazax were expelled,
hunted, decimated, and ultimately annihilated by their former citizens.
In less than twenty years after the death of the last Emperor, the Lazax race
was no more. As the Mahact before them, their memory now belongs to the
stars and the historians.
In the center of the Quenwari star cluster, under the punishing rays of the
massive star Kenara lies the tri-system of the Hacan, each of its three
satellites wrapped in the yellow haze so distinctive of desert planets. These
three jewels are called Arretze, Kamdorn, and Hercant. Here, the united
Emirates of the Hacan have grown a mighty civilization of warriors, nomads,
farmers, and above all, merchants.
The Kenara system is one of the most heavily trafficked in the known
universe. Only the wormhole portal systems see more traffic in any given
cycle. From Kenara, an untold number of Hacan and other merchant vessels
traverse the galaxy. This traffic is supported by entire cities of space stations
that provide the warehousing, logistics, maintenance, banking,
entertainment, and other necessities facilitating the constant flow of goods,
ships, and crew.
On the surface of the three hot desert planets, life is slower and more
serene. Only life in the city Hacarun on the planet Arretze matches the
breathless pace of the space above. Located in a shadowy vale near the
Arretze northern pole, Hacarun is the only city in the tri-system that has a
fixed position. Its permanent location and almost bearable climate has made
Hacarun the primary point of operation for most non-native trading
corporations, financiers, and opportunists. The Hacan, despite their uncanny
ability for establishing financial relationships and building trade, generally
despise the chaotic lifestyle and, to them, windy cold of Hacarun.
The lion-like Hacan people dwell mostly in cities built on massive dust-sleds,
constantly moving to cooler climates as the desert seasons shift. Although
some technology has been introduced in the last hundred years, most Hacan
cities are still pulled by vast herds of Tuuran beasts, whose gill-like skin
membranes take moisture from the very air itself.
In their distant past, the Hacan were a poor species, their exploits in space
dwarfed by the other great races of the Imperium. Then slowly the Hacan
discovered an insatiable off-worlder lust for special product grown under
Kenara’s blinding light or dug from the deep sands of their home worlds. The
intoxicating gerr root, clothes made from the starflowers that only rise
during Kamdorn’s equinox, Spehat aphrodisiacs, liquors, medicines, and
forbidden drugs: all harvested and manufactured by the crafty and patient
hands of the Hacan.
Soon the Hacan became masters of trade, and their system prospered as
unfathomable fortunes were made by the increasingly powerful trading
clans, chief among them the Mowshir Emirate of Arretze. The desire to
protect their newfound wealth, and a will to peacefully regulate and
arbitrate between the clans, moved the Hacan to form a representative
gathering and to elect a Quieron—the leader who speaks for all the Hacan.
The Quieron leads the entire hierarchy of trade-groups, each possessing its
own fleet of commerce and war. His task: to lead his people to the Imperial
Throne, establishing an era of wealth and peaceful commerce.
 BSARONY
OL SYSTEM
SPACE
THE B
FEDERATION
ARONY OF LOF SOL
ETNEV Population
Government
16.44 billion
10.47
Federation
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LIGHT
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ILITARISTIC BUREAUCRATS Leadership Daz Emmiciel
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Nestled in the third orbit of the Sol system lies Jord (sometimes called “Ert”),
the ancestral home of the human race. Few planets can rival Jord’s diversity
of climates, seasons, and ecology. Much of this wealth is attributed to its
enormous moon, which causes dramatic tidal motions in Jord’s oceans,
which is thought to be the impetus of its diverse life and weather patterns.
Much of Jord’s orbit, as well as its moon, is crowded with stellar traffic from
the orbital and lunar space stations. Military ships off the line, bearing the
distinctive Sol symbol, are often moored to the bulky military platforms in
Jord’s orbit, or to the fleet base Churchill Prima that orbits the reddish fourth
planet of the system.
The humans themselves represent the most numerous and most diverse
species of the galaxy. Since the discovery of the mass-drive, humans have
left Jord to explore, and they continue to explore, the distant corners of
space. Humans can be found in all corners of the galaxy and seem to
demonstrate the greatest variation in intellect and application of skills.
Human colonies and settlements can be found everywhere, as can human
servants, traders, cartographers, explorers, mercenaries, scholars,
construction crews, smugglers, scientists, diplomats, etc. It is commonly
recognized among galactic historians that it has been the diversified skills of
the human race that has been the determining factor in it avoiding
annihilation or extinction.
Of the untold billions of humans that dwell across the galaxy, all of whose
ancestors once migrated from the Sol system, most feel no allegiance or
kinship to the Sol Federation or the humans of Jord. Some feels a traditional
friendship, while a few remain loyal to Sol and its policies. Being the last
civilization to be admitted into the imperial council, it is ironic that Sol was
the first to openly declare war against the failing empire. It was a Sol fleet
that fired the first shot at the Letnev blockade of the Quann wormhole,
escalating the minor conflict into a full scale galactic war known as the
Twilight Wars.
The Sol Federation of Nations is governed by the bi-annually elected High
Minister, who has the executive control of the economy, budget, and Sol
military. The executive powers of the High Minister are held in check by
three distinct governing houses: The House of Law, The House of the People,
and The House of Industry. The four governing bodies of the Federation are
all centrally located in the massive metropolis of New Moscow, a bustling
center of politics, trade, and high culture.
The current High Minister, Juan Salvador Tao, is preparing for a new age that
he knows is rapidly evolving before him. He is eager to expand the official
colonization of Sol once more, especially to the old colonies of Centauri, Gral,
and Quann. He knows that the balance of power is shifting and that the
universe will soon once again be governed under one empire. The High
Minister will make sure that his Federation will prevail during the coming
power struggle and inevitable war. Already the Sol fleet awaits his command
to strike nearby systems. Soon the human destiny will be fulfilled, and the
distant suns theirs to command.
In the very blackness of space lies cold, hard Arc Prime. Its system has no
central star, and Arc Prime’s lack of a defined orbit has been a mystery to
scientists for millennia. It is a common jest that Arc Prime is simply afloat in
space, and that only the Letnev disdain for the rest of the galaxy protects it
from a fatal collision. The Letnev’s principle vassal, Wren Terra, shines like a
mighty star in the ebon distance, while thorny military ships surround the
dark planet like fireflies attracted to a black hole.
Foreign visitors to Arc Prime will, under heavy fighter escort, be directed to
the Dunlain Crater. The crater holds the sprawling city of Feruc, Arc Prime’s
only city located on the planetary surface. Feruc is a pressurized mesh of
black metal housing, belching industries, warehouses, and military
installations. The thin atmosphere of Arc Prime prohibits normal surface life
outside the cold pressurized facilities of Feruc. Since the Barony has no use
for the meager atmosphere of Arc Prime, it freely emits unfiltered pollutants
from the underground Letnev cities and factories to the surface. A journey
to Feruc is likely to leave a thick layer of frozen black residue on any vessel.
It is a common merchant endearment to call a ship returning from Arc Prime
a “Chimney Sweeper.”
Under the surface of Arc Prime, heated by its planetary core, the Baron
presides over the proud and fierce Letnev people. Few non-natives have
ever visited the capital Goz, fabled “city of a billion,” or the other six major
underground urban centers of Arc Prime. A gray organic plant material,
called Ao by the Letnev, is found everywhere in Arc Prime’s underground. It
is Ao that supplies the oxygen to the enormous cavern-networks, and the
plant is held in almost religious awe and respect by the Letnev people.
Although tens of thousands of moist fungus caves are farmed by an army of
intelligent machines, the Letnev’s great weakness has always been its
shortage of food, liquid, medicines, and essential vitamins. The ancient Lazax
kept the aggressive race in check by maintaining strict control of the Letnev
food supplies and trade.
Throughout the time of the Lazax Empire, the Letnev led two unsuccessful
rebellions against the Imperium. Their history of dissention justified a
constant imperial oversight of Arc Prime and its people. The Letnev blockade
of the Quann wormhole at the end of the Age of Dusk was started in protest
over the Lazax sanctions and supervision. It was the Quann conflict that
ignited the Twilight Wars and the final downfall of the empire.
After Wren Terra was annexed by the Letnev during the latter years of the
Age of Dusk, their colonies there have been primarily occupied with growing
and supplying food for the population of Arc Prime. Foreign trade with the
Letnev consists mainly of foodstuffs, for which merchants receive metals,
weapons, and the sharp Saimoc—strong crystals used in mining operations
across the galaxy.
The Baron keeps order by maintaining a strict bureaucracy, discipline, and an
elitist military culture that brings the strongest and the smartest directly
under his control. The pale Letnev despise light, and will often wear
protective headgear when visiting other worlds with bright sunlight.
 GXARIAN
XLAK SSYSTEM
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THE U
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The legendary Letnev troops are only surpassed in brute strength by the
Tekklar N’orr elite soldiers of distant Quinarra. With the new awakening of
ambitions among the great races, the resurgence of interstellar commerce,
and the recent momentum of the Galactic Council, the Baron has secretly
been preparing to lead his people to final dominance. Baron Daz Emmiciel
Werquan III has only one ambition: to become emperor at any cost.
Even the oldest annals recognize the ancient kingdom of the reptilian Xxcha
as the first of the great interstellar civilizations. Nestled in the middle of a
wealthy section of space, the Xxcha twin planets of Archon Ren and Archon
Tau lie bathed in the gentle light of the Xxlak star. While the Xxcha still call
the two planets “twins,” an outsider will instantly notice that the grayish and
shadowy Archon Tau in no way resembles the brilliant, healthy green of
Archon Ren.
Throughout the tenure of the lost Lazax Imperium, the Xxcha were the most
peaceful, docile, and content of the major civilizations. They did not, unlike
the other races, scheme for power and territory during the Age of Dusk.
Unlike the Lazax, the Xxcha elders did see the growing threat to the galaxy.
They fruitlessly sought to warn the Lazax of their peril, and struggled to bring
dialogue to the increasing racial factionalism. A powerful Lazax councilor by
the name of Ibna Vel Syd listened to the Xxcha warning, but even he could
not sway the false sense of safety felt by the emperor. Then, disaster struck.
The Quann crisis erupted into sudden war, and the Letnev, led by the Baron
Daz Arrokan I, moved towards the rich Xxcha system in conquest. The Xxcha,
unprepared and weaponless, used their formidable powers of negotiation
and goodwill to broker an agreement in which they ceded only Archon Tau to
the invaders, while the kingdom retained a Letnev-supervised autonomy on
Archon Ren. The Xxcha, never fools, were aware of the nature of Letnev
promises and the futility of the arrangement. The agreement would last only
as long as the Barony was occupied in war elsewhere. In time, the Xxcha
knew, the Letnex would return to claim the rest of their prize and enslave
them. It was then, for the first time in their history, that the Xxcha started to
create their first weapons and train their first armies. In secret deep groves
and in hidden vales, the Xxcha King sadly watched his people develop into
warriors.
Less than a decade after the occupation of Archon Tau, the Letnev fleet
suffered a stunning defeat against the Sol in the Gral system. Only a few
cycles after the battle, the Sol Phoenix fleet entered the Xxlak system and
engaged the heavily fortified Letnev positions on Archon Tau. The ensuing
bombardments and battles lasted for almost two years.
Kklaj, found on the planet’s southern hemisphere. Kklaj functions as the seat
of the Xxcha King, whose extensive palace, entirely sculpted of Q’waar wood,
and flower gardens, stretch for miles at the center of the city.
The Xxcha are an inherently peaceful, slow, and thoughtful people. They
hold their nobles and town elders in deep respect. A common pastime of
Xxcha males and females alike is to debate meaning and origin while smoking
gerr root on long-stemmed pipes. The jungles and lakes of Archon Ren are
surprisingly free from the invasive insects that so often make forest and
jungle planets unbearable.
Although the Xxcha still believe in the doctrine of peace and negotiation,
they will never again bend to foreign invasion. Travelers to the Xxlak system
will often notice impressive sentinel Xxcha superdreadnoughts and the
distinctive Xxlun fighters in intense naval exercises. Although the typical
Xxcha may seem slow and encumbered by a heavy reptilian body weight,
when roused, the Xxcha are surprisingly strong and fast.
The pale shadow of Archon Tau hangs like a scar in the Xxcha skies. The sight
of it is the everlasting sorrow of the Xxcha, and the ever-present reminder of
the cost of submission. The Xxcha will never allow such tragedy to befall
them again. Ccrysus, the Xxcha King, knows that for the sake of a peaceful
galaxy, the Xxcha must seek the Imperial Throne and be wise for all.
Most technological devices used in the galaxy today have at least one or two
components originating from the Jol-Nar laboratories. During the height of
the Lazax Imperium, the galaxy was even more reliant on underlying Jol-Nar
technology and the knowledge of the aquatic Hylar. This reliance on Jol-Nar
engineers and skills was one of the key factors leading to the total collapse of
galactic civilization and its descent into the Dark Years that followed the
Twilight Wars.
When the Twilight Wars first began, the Jol-Nar closed their embassies,
withdrew their workers, and started a war of aggression on their own.
Among the other races, only a few individuals remained who now
understood the complex Jol-Nar machinery, virtual code, and chemical
compounds. Soon, fundamental machinery started failing, setting off a chain
reaction of integrated technological failures over a period of hundreds of
years. Combined with devastating wars, this spurred massive famine,
poverty, and chaos. As cultures, economies, and finally the tools of war
completely collapsed, the Twilight Wars quickly ebbed and the Dark Years
began.

In the end, the Letnev occupiers were defeated, but with a terrible toll. The
ecology of Archon Tau had been shattered beyond recall. What was once a
true twin to the green and fruitful Archon Ren was now a noxious, blackened
crater. Its forests had burned. Ashes and scattered dust started a planet-
wide winter that lasted for a hundred years, killing most plant and animal
life.
Now, recovered from the loss of Archon Tau, the Xxcha Kingdom has
prospered on the generous Archon Ren. Covered mostly by leafy forests,
small inland oceans, and fruitful jungles, Archon Ren is rich in minerals,
energy foodstuffs, and water. The Xxcha civilization dwells in a myriad of
arboreal villages and towns. The only true metropolis is the giant city of
Even the Jol-Nar were devastated by the Twilight Wars. Although the rest of
the galaxy had relied on their technologies, so had the Jol-Nar relied on the
income, protection, and natural resources of others. The arrogance of the
High Scholars spurred them to wage a sudden, aggressive war after the
Quann conflict erupted. Then, a few years later, the Doolak plague
destroyed nearly a quarter of the Jol-Nar population, causing a massive loss
of knowledge by itself. The Jol-Nar aggression soon turned defensive, and
the powerful N’orr looked to conquer all Jol-Nar space. Only after a decisive
Jol-Nar victory in the Saudor system did the Hylar receive a needed respite.
Like azure sapphires, the twin ocean planets of Jol and Nar slowly circle the
Garian star. Under their waters lies the great civilization of the Hylar, a
 SARDAKK
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[description]

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match. planet and considered normal by the N’orr.

The Hylar are governed by an ancient system of high scholars, who combined
are called the University. A single Hylar ruler, the Headmaster, oversees the
Hylar from the deep underwater city of Wun-Escha on the planet of Jol.
Under the Headmaster, the Circle of Regents governs the local regions and
specific areas of knowledge.
Although the Hylar are often considered one race, there are in fact several
distinct variations within the Hylar species, mainly derivative of the
geographical region and ocean depth from which they hail. Most Hylar are
capable of breathing surface air, and some can exist for weeks without being
submerged. Others cannot breathe surface air at all, and must travel in
massive tanks when off-planet. None know how an underwater race came to
be masters of technology. Most agree that the large bio-cerebral area of the
Hylar physique, combined with the need to adapt their soft-boned and slow
bodies to their environment, created an evolution of material usage, as
opposed to one of physical adaptation.
Despite their physical weakness, the Hylar are a proud people, often to the
point of abrasiveness and arrogance. Since the catastrophic Dark Years, the
Hylar have started utilizing the natural resources of their own planets, and
they now extract metals and medicines from the many algae and coral
formations of both Jol and Nar. As a new age nears, the Hylar once more
strive for the influence they feel they have earned. The Circle of Regents has
secretly decided that the Hylar must take the place of the Lazax in governing
and advancing a new united galaxy. Under their mandate, the Headmaster
has begun building his forces, and Jol-Nar diplomats and engineers have
started appearing among the other civilizations in large numbers, appearing
friendly, but with hidden agendas. Soon the Headmaster will make his claim
for empire, and the galaxy will enter an age of technological advancement
and intellectual achievement.
Not far past the Unicorn Nebula, the golden Sardakk star shines its ancient,
hot light on giant oceanless Quinarra. The massive planet radiates a red glow
like a dusty ruby in the night, its massive polar storms clearly visible from
space. A great network of orbital space stations and massive compliments of
fleet units occupy the system in the fashion of the insectile N’orr. Massive
whale-like N’orr carriers spew fighters like angry hornets from a disturbed
nest. Convoys of ice-mountain transports are always inbound from the
planet Tren’lak. Small spider-like robotic ships drill into the sides of the ice,
guiding the ice to the orbital liquid-processing plants, after which the derived
water and salt is flown to Quinarra by bloated sungliders, that, like beetle
balloons, slowly descend to the N’orr cities below.
Quinarra itself is among the most inhospitable of planets inhabited by a
major civilization. Only Letnev’s Arc Prime is recognized as more desolate
than Quinarra. The Letnev, however, live exclusively under Arc Prime’s
surface, whereas the N’orr civilization is well established both on and below
Quinarra’s continents. Only Quinarra’s polar regions, where even the hardy
N’orr cannot survive the deadly storms for extended periods of time, are
largely uninhabited. Brutal electric, hail, and dust storms, although not
Visitors to Quinarra will be flown directly to the immigration nexus in the
capital H’cor. If weather permits sufficient visibility, most visitors will be
impressed by the massive size and explosive traffic of the city. The N’orr
structures are typically oval or rounded, created from a hardened reddish
material similar to the general topography of the planet. Like most major
N’orr cities, H’cor features towering building constructs, sprawling low-story
buildings, and sudden deep gorges into the earth that reveal city-nests deep
below the surface, delving into the red earth. Busy roads and hover-lanes
cross the city in a thousand ways, often congested with N’orr traffic.
The N’orr will tell you that they are ruled by “Sardakk the Queen Mother,”
but that acknowledgement seems more steeped in ritual than fact. None
have ever met the mythical “mother,” and no off-world documentation exists
suggesting there is any truth to the notion. The accepted and visible head of
the N’orr state is the Envoy of the Queen, a male N’orr in direct command of
the cultural, economic, and military matters of the race. The length of the
Envoy’s tenure and the process of his election seems to be decided by a
secret brotherhood, the “Veiled Brood,” in which lies the real power of the
N’orr.
The Envoy and the Veiled Brood oversee the rapid expansion of the N’orr
military forces and fleets. The Tekklar Elite soldiers are the pride of their
people. The Tekklar train exclusively in the southern polar regions, where
the weak die and the strong become G’hom: members of the prestigious
Tekklar order, treated like knights by the N’orr and feared across the galaxy.
As Quinarra slowly turns, as the stars again come into their right
constellations, the Veiled Brood knows that the time to swarm is coming
again. And this time, the swarm will cover the stars.
It has been 13 years since the Hacan trader Zollar was lost, its final desperate
broadcast intercepted by an Yssaril outpost near the Mahact asteroid fields.
The last transmission of the Zollar told a grim story. After leaving Moll
Primus in the Mahact region, its navigation equipment failed, and its crew
found themselves lost far beyond the remote borderlands. After nearly two
weeks adrift in deep space, they were suddenly hailed by a great warship of
unknown origin. The crew’s joy soon turned to terror. The warship closed,
bringing its broadside cannons to bear on the helpless freighter. The Hacan
captain was able to send a final emergency broadcast before his ship was
destroyed.
Not long after the disappearance of the Zollar, a mighty alien fleet appeared
on the outskirts of Yssaril space. From that fleet, a small delegation of
representatives traveled to Mecatol, submitting an ancestral claim to the
Imperial Throne. They claimed to be the true remnants of the ancient Lazax,
now calling themselves the L1Z1X (“Ell Won Zee Won Ex”). Grisly to behold,
they resemble the Lazax, but utterly changed, their bodies almost entirely
overtaken by invasive cybernetic implants.
The Winnaran custodians are deeply divided over the issue. Some claim that
the L1Z1X are not the ruling race, but a new and potentially dangerous

THE NAALU COLLECTIVE
TELEPTHIC MANIPULATORS
“You insult me, sskinling. Ze monstrosity you suggest – ze
Druaa, we are not capable of such cruelty. Purge zis madness
from your mind and leave zis world.”
—Q’uesh Sish
Deadly grace, perilous beauty. The crystalline radiance of the
Nefishh reflects the very aspects of the Druaa, digging its claws
deep into the minds of the “lesser” beings of the galaxy.
hybrid. Other Winnarans argue that the Lazax have returned, in unexpected
form, but returned nonetheless, and that their custodianship is over.
A Winnaran observer has been allowed to visit the L1Z1X home world, called
“0.0.0” by its inhabitants, or “Null” by most others. The observer has not yet
returned, and the L1Z1X remain a largely unknown entity. What little is
known of them has been provided by the L1Z1X themselves, or obtained
from a few old records provided by the Jol-Nar Regents.
From the Hylar records and from the L1Z1X claim, it has been inferred that
the L1Z1X history started during the final days of the Lazax. It was less than a
year before the great bombing of Mecatol that a councilor to the Emperor by
the name of Ibna Vel Syd saw the impending doom.
The Emperor and his other councilors refused to listen to Ibna’s dire
warnings. Soon Ibna grew frustrated with their myopia. Although the Lazax
navy was clearly failing, although droves of systems were daily joining the
three rebellions, although trade had entirely failed, and food supplies on
Mecatol Rex were running out, the Emperor and his cabinet simply could not
comprehend that their birthright, their empire, could possibly fall.
Refusing to share the fate of his liege, Ibna Vel Syd began secretly planning a
furtive diaspora for his own family and the few thousand Lazax who shared
his fears. With him, Ibna sought to bring the pillars of Lazax culture,
technology, and knowledge. He even managed to persuade a small group of
Hylar scientists to join him, recognizing that the Hylar’s skill was instrumental
to the underlying technology of the empire.
Then, on a fateful night during the seventy-second year of the Twilight Wars,
two freighters, the Manda and the Hurwana, and Ibna’s own Cruiser, Syd, left
the great spaceport of Mecatol City. Below them, the great Hall of
Cartography burned. So fearful had Ibna been of discovery and persecution
by the Lazax’s enemies that he had engineered the destruction of any record
that could possibly identify his secret destination: a cold but adequate planet
orbiting the small star Hazz, far beyond the borderlands.
It is guessed that the colony, struggling to survive, started to rely almost
exclusively on technology to assist them in their hardships. Presumably
helped by the small contingent of Hylar, technology crept into their lives and
bodies, until they became almost indistinguishable from it.
It is rumored that Ibna Vel Syd still leads his people, encased in eldritch
technology that keeps his ancient body alive. Whether the L1Z1X are guided
by the wisdom that saved them or by the insanity that destroyed the famed
Hall of Cartography, it is not known. Behind their vacant red eyes lie both a
tragic history and a terrible malevolence. It seems certain that the return of
the Lazax will wash across the galaxy like a tide of prophecy and steel.
It was not until the middle of the Twilight Wars that the Naalu civilization
made itself known to the rest of the galaxy. Their system, dominated by the
white star Mallac, had remained suspiciously undetected by the empire,
despite being surrounded by wealthy systems whose recorded history
predates even the Lazax. After a period of sheer astonishment, stellar
cartographers and historians began suspecting manipulation by the Naalu
themselves. After researching old records, investigators found a remarkably
MALLAC SYSTEM
Population
Government
4.72 billion
Collective
Leadership Q’uesh Sish
Disposition Seductive
Tendencies Military
DRUAA Resources 3 Influence 1
Despite its oversized poles, one of the most beautiful of planets. Its flowered
steppes, violet mountains, and glowing forests are famous across the galaxy.
MAALUUK Resources 0 Influence 2
Mostly pungent marshland and mudplains . Original world of the Naalu race, which
now enslaves the winged Miashan to work its great iron-extraction plants .
PLANET 3 Resources 0 Influence 0
[description]
high number of missing ship incidents in that sector and an even more
incriminating number of ships found stranded in space, their crews suffering
from deep-space memory loss. Some scientists (the most vociferous of
whom has died amidst questionable circumstances) have indicated that
records exist indicating a great number of Yssaril ships passing into Mallac’s
area of space, but no records of any derelict or amnesic Yssaril crews have
ever been recorded. The Naalu, it was later discovered to the horror of their
neighbors, are highly telepathic and armed with technology and weapons
that redirect, manipulate, or damage the neuron impulses guiding the brains
of all major known races.
A secret prior relationship between the Yssaril Guild of Spies and the mind-
bending Naalu goes a long way in explaining how the Naalu, a seemingly
isolated civilization claiming no prior contact with the rest of the galaxy,
developed premium civilian and military technology similar, and in some
cases superior, to the rest of the galaxy.
Soon after the appearance of the Naalu, several of the great races, seeing the
potential of a powerful new ally in the empire’s midst, sought to win their
allegiance. After learning of the Naalu’s telepathic power, however, and
after witnessing the strange arrogance of the beautiful Naalu, many quickly
retrieved their envoys and diplomats in a healthy fear of the mind-reading
serpentine race.
Despite originating on the dank and nondescript planet Maaluuk, the Naalu
have taken the breathtakingly beautiful Druaa as their home world. Most
Naalu scoff at any mention of their Maaluuk heritage, and recent Naalu
generations often seek to contest even hard scientific evidence which
indicates that their proud, stoic race originated from any planet other than
the scenic Druaa—especially the stinking bogs and mist-plains of Maaluuk.
The Druaa seldom communicate with each other by speaking. Their
telepathic communication is more effective, facilitates emotional as well as
intelligent understanding, and has allowed the collective to prevent larger
internal wars, which in turn has spurred their rapid advance in culture,
technology (assisted by the Yssaril), and the creation of the Naalu fleet and
military might. Unless speaking to off-worlders, the Naalu use their voices
only for their music—hauntingly alluring arias of melodic hissing.
The Naalu have kept the pristine beauty of their crystal cities and Druaa’s
environment intact by locating most of their heavy industries on Maaluuk.
These industries are manned by the Miashan, a low-sentient marshland race
enslaved by the Naalu to work in the great iron-extraction plants,
underground gas mines, and on the thousands of rodent farms. Raw
materials are promptly shipped to Druaa, stored in massive underground
warehouses, and distributed to the Druaa cities by airborne gliders.
The leader of the Naalu collective is always female, as most Naalu leaders
and off-world representatives are female. For the last decade, the tall red-
scaled Q’uesh Sish has ruled the collective from her palace in the shining
crystal city of Eershin. The beautiful, sleek spaceships of the Naalu patrol
Mallac’s outer borders, while Naalu troops train and muster on Druaa’s two
moons. With her Nefishh, a rare crystal radium device, Q’uesh sees the
minds of the other races. She smiles at the knowledge, and with her the
collective Naalu leaders smile, sensing the knowledge in her mind and

THE Y
MSSARIL
ENTAKTCRIBES
OALITION PopulationPopulation
Government
Government
SPHADOW
RIVATEEROA
PERATIVES
RMADA LeadershipLeadership
DispositionDisposition
“Clever Ssruu has met the offworlder and made it
“One people. One mind. One destiny. We will rise above the
dead. What does the Guild want for Ssruu to meet TendenciesTendencies
pit they have thrown us in.” R ETILLION M OLL P RIMUS
next?”
—Erwan Mentak, Founder of the Coalition In places
A mix of tundra, lush
swamps, and and
rivers, rich,dense
—Ssruu whose capitalcolony
Wuecca has
hasprospered
eluded all under
SHALLOQ PLANET 2
One might expect that a civilization descended entirely from
Covered with[description]
tundra, wetlands, and rainforest, much like its sister-planet Retillion . Home to
Many doors thought locked are easily opened by the Mojeb, the only major Yssaril city catalogued by off-worlders .
convicts,
Guild, andexiles, and revolutionaries
many doors, wouldthat
once opened, reveal be the
corrupt and
lawless, but the Mentak have developed a rich, if PLANET 3 PLANET 3
somewhat
Guild has already been there and left. [description][description]
vague, code of honor.
relishing the sweet poison of her thoughts. The great plan of the collective is
about to take its final shape. Long have the Naalu observed the chaos and
ugliness of the other races from a distance. The time nears that the beauty
of Druaa will grow beyond the borders of Mallac. The time now nears when
the rest of the galaxy will know the tranquility, order, and the true beauty of
the Naalu. The rest of the galaxy will submit to that beauty… or be
destroyed.
Beyond the Mahact Plateau, past the borderlands and the old star route
known as the Passage of Tears, lies distant Moll Primus with its three tiny
moons. The young planet is predominantly covered by extensive plains of
the orange meet grass and sprinkled with a million lakes. Sharp youthful
mountains pierce the heart of its many continents, their icy mountain
streams giving life to steep lush mountain valleys, where green fruitful trees
and flowers grow in colorful contrast to the orange plains.
Although rich for exploitation, the remoteness of Moll Primus allowed the
planet to go without colonization by the Lazax for thousands of years after its
discovery. After the failed Gandar rebellion, however, the Lazax started to
use the planet as a penal colony, a distant prison, for the worst offending
political dissidents and other criminals from all races. Exile to Moll Primus
meant a long journey in the bowels of a prison freighter along the Passage of
Tears, a winding dark journey around the treacherous gravity wells of the
Mahact Plateau. Only the remote planet of Hope’s End lies farther than Moll
Primus on the Passage of Tears. Once on Moll Primus, prisoners were
assigned to manual labor under the supervision of one of the regional
planetary Governors. The Governors of Moll Primus mostly consisted of
Lazax politicians or servicemen fallen into disgrace. An assignment to Moll
Primus was as much a sentence to a Lazax public career as it was a prison for
its population. Thus the Governors were often incompetent, cruel, and bitter
individuals. Although the planet itself was quite pleasant, even considered
beautiful, its prisoner population was tortured, malnourished, and forced to
fight in small-scale wars against the population of neighboring Governors.
Then, after more than 800 years, the Twilight Wars began. As the empire
crumbled, as the supply ships and supervision from Mecatol Rex became
infrequent and finally failed, the Governors panicked. Some fled the planet
overnight with their entire households. Other perished in the inevitable
prisoner revolts that followed. Before the Twilight Wars had subsided, Moll
Primus was free. Some of its most recent prisoners soon left, but for most of
its mixed-race population, Moll Primus was home. After the united rebellion
against the Governor Wardens, a brief period of infighting among the
different regions followed.
A single human, Erwan Mentak, soon brought the regions together in a final
peace, and before he died, prosperity.
Today, Moll Primus is governed by the Table of Captains, elected leaders
from each region. Among them a single leader is chosen every ten cycles and
granted the honorary title Erwan’s Hand or “the Hand” for short. Helped by
their Hylar brothers, the coalition has made great progress in advancing their
technological status. Metals mined from Moll Primus’s moons, various
products made from the rich meet grass, income from “special” fleet
MYOCKMSOLL SYSTEM
YSTEM
2.55 billion
Unknown
TableGuild
of Captains
of Spies
Erwan’s
TheHand
Cqaark
Rebellious
Secretive
Economic
Political
Resources 2 Resources Influence 4 Influence
3 1
in others a barren
forests . Homewasteland. This oldchameleonic
to the mysterious, Lazax penalYssaril,
theatrule
attempts of the governing
cartography . Mentak Coalition.
Resources 1 Resources Influence 0 Influence
2 0
Resources 0 Resources Influence 0 0
Influence 0
excursions, and the hard work of its population has slowly formed the strong
economic backbone of a proud civilization.
Although publically denied by Mentak ambassadors, the Mentak employ a
vast pirating fleet which wreaks havoc among merchant shipping lanes and
smaller military convoys. Although now an educated culture and civilization
in their own right, the Mentak people have never forgotten their roots as
rogues and usurpers. Every Mentak feels an historical need for revenge:
revenge against a galaxy that shipped their ancestors to torture and rot on
Moll Primus centuries ago. The Table of Captains has given their Hand a clear
mandate: to scheme, pillage, and conquer until the ruled are rulers and the
enslaved are emperors.
Near the Mahact Plateau, diagonally opposite the Passage of Tears, but
located in a far richer area of the region, shines the Myock star and its two
habitable planets, Shalloq and Retillion. As recorded in even the earliest
annals, Retillion has been known for the edible delicious menn root.
Throughout the Lazax Imperium, many farming colonies existed on Retillion,
harvesting the roots along the musky and odorous shores of the Fianni
swamps. In the years of Lazax Emperor Munhan Las Idu, the colonization
efforts were dramatically expanded. Not long after the start of the farming
expansion, however, things started to go terribly wrong on Retillion: farm
machines were sabotaged, isolated farms destroyed, inhabitants murdered
by an unseen foe that would strike when the bog mists rolled over the lands.
The Empire sent reinforcements, and the colonists soon realized that they
were under systematic attack by a small native chameleon race with natural
greenish skin and large yellow lamp-like eyes. These aborigines had the
ability to “fade,” making them virtually invisible to the naked eye and a great
threat to the farming boom towns springing up along the edges of
measureless swamps. It was clear that the natives were a primitive race, but
fierce, intelligent, and relentless in their intent to stop the invasive farming of
their native swamplands. From the few early prisoners, it was learned that
they called themselves the “Yssaril” and that a vast network of villages and
tribes was to be found in the continent-sized Fianni swamp.
Eager to renew the supplies of their beloved menn root, the Lazax sent their
21st expeditionary division to suppress the Yssaril uprising, allowing for the
resumption of the increased farming mandate. During these bloody years,
thousands of Yssaril were captured and shipped to governments and buyers
across the galaxy for study or hunting sports. Although farming did resume,
the Lazax military division never completely suppressed the Yssaril natives.
As the small green Yssaril adapted to the Lazax style of warfare, as they stole
and learned to use Lazax weapons, the Fianni swamp soon became an
embarrassing killing field for Lazax conscripts.
It was during the Age of Dusk that the Great Races learned to utilize the
potential of the intelligent Yssaril as spies and assassins for their covert
operations. For a hundred years, the Yssaril learned the skills of stealth, the
usage of technologies, and the power of information. Combined with their
own natural ability to become nearly invisible, they soon came to realize
their own potential and established the powerful and feared Guild of Spies.
By the proceeds derived from Guild business, the Yssaril added a formidable
income source to their civilization and to the development of Retillion. With

THE WINNU
HERITORS OF REX
“We will claim what is ours by right, cousins. We will fulfill the
destiny of those who came before us, and your treachery will
not be forgotten.”
—Muad Di Faruuq
Traditionalists to the core, the Winnu decree that it is their
sovereign right to reign in the world left behind by the Lazax.
Haughty and ambitious, the Winnu are prepared to unite the
galaxy – by force, if necessary.
this power and influence, they were able to convince the Lazax to leave the
planet (while still supplying menn root). Over a few generations, the Yssaril
became industrial, educated, and ambitious.
Although still powerful in covert circles, the Guild now functions as the prime
governing body of the united Yssaril Tribes. The guild elects its leader from
its factions of master assassins. The prime leader, the Cqaark, leads a
powerful civilization of an intelligent, determined, and ambitious people: a
people whose history has left them with little love for the other Great Races.
Since the Lazax left, no off-worlders have been allowed on Retillion. The
Yssaril capital Wuecca lies somewhere deep in the Fianni swamps, its actual
location unknown to all but the Yssaril. The official business, trade, and
covert operations are conducted from the planet Shalloq, which the Yssaril
colonized not long after gaining independence from the Lazax. The only
actual Yssaril city known to off-worlders is the city of Mojeb on Shalloq.
From here, or from Shalloq’s great orbital trade station Haarsuh, the Yssaril
receive foreign emissaries, merchants, and visitors.
The proud fierce Yssaril are slowly starting to look beyond their borders and
beyond the income of the Guild. Hidden in the planetary shadow of Shalloq,
and kept secret from the rest of the galaxy by the covert means at which the
Yssaril excel, a great invasion fleet is being built. Although the rest of the
galaxy may shudder at the Yssaril’s unseen eyes and ears, it would be
terrified if it knew the ruthless imperial ambitions of the small green people.
The Winnu system was the first system to seek annexation into the Lazax
Empire. Throughout their history, the Winnarans had suffered countless civil
wars, a deteriorating climate, and debilitating disease. They were a race on
the brink of extinction when they first came into contact with the Lazax, and
only with generous Lazax support did the Winnaran race survive. The Lazax
allowed the Winnarans into their empire, and over time healed the scars of
Winnu. More importantly, the Winnarans came to embrace the Lazax code
of strength and peace, the powerful doctrine which had allowed the first
Lazax Emperor to defeat the mad Mahact kings and to emerge as a shining
beacon of peace and stability in a dark galaxy.
The Winnarans were eternally grateful to the Lazax, and swore an oath of
servitude to the emperors. Disciplined and diligent, the Winnarans became
indispensable to the Lazax as bureaucrats, councilors, and administrators. As
their empire grew increasingly complex, it is likely that the Lazax would not
have been able to hold their empire together without the work and attention
to detail of the Winnarans. Then, as the Lazax decided to move their
Imperial seat to a planet more central to the galaxy, more than half of the
population of Winnu joined the Lazax diaspora to this new home. That home
was the planet of Mecatol, which would become the Rex, the splendid jewel
in the Imperial crown. As the ages came and went, most Winnarans began to
think of Mecatol as their ancestral home, and the relevance and memory of
Winnu and their brethren there diminished.
Yet the Winnaran population on Winnu, now generally called the “Winnu,”
quietly built their own civilization following the doctrine of the emperors.
Much Lazax lore, wisdom, and culture is intact on Winnu, even as other Lazax
WINNU SYSTEM
Population
Government
13.77 billion
Imperial
Leadership Muad Di Faruuq
Disposition Righteous
Tendencies Objective
WINNU Resources 3 Influence 4
The shining cities of the Winnu are the last places where authentic Lazax art
and culture are still revered.
PLANET 2 Resources 0 Influence 0
[description]
PLANET 3 Resources 0 Influence 0
[description]
imagery and culture was destroyed elsewhere in the galaxy during the Great
Scourge.
As the memory of the Great Scourge faded, and as the Dark Years seemed to
stretch along endlessly, the Mecatol Winnarans and the Winnu grew
estranged from one another. On Mecatol, the Winnarans were bound to
rigid tradition and scholarship, while the Winnu culture had evolved and
prospered. The Winnu became ashamed of their submissive cousins on
Mecatol, whom they began to regard as a grey, backwards people, devoid of
fashion, art, and culture.
As a new age is dawning, the Winnu truly believe themselves to be the
inheritors of the Lazax. Their philosophies, their artwork, and even the
clothing fashion of the Winnu is rooted in that of the ancient Lazax. Some
outside observers, however, will note that along with the Winnu
preservation of Lazax imagery and culture, that time has brought the return
of more traditional Winnaran traits in the Winnu—ambition, pride, and
impatience.
As they grew prosperous and powerful, the Winnu witnessed the
reemergence of the other Great Races with annoyance and mistrust. Those
were the races that had slaughtered their benefactors, and their return to
power felt to the Winnu like sacrilege against the memory of the Lazax. Even
more poisonous to the Winnu was the fact that their submissive cousins on
Mecatol had invited these races to reestablish the Galactic Council there—
even going as far as inviting the races that resigned from the Lazax council
immediately before the Age of Twilight.
With the pride of a new, powerful civilization and the sense of Lazax
entitlement, the supreme Winnu leader Muad Di Faruuq traveled to Mecatol
and demanded that the Winnarans return to the sovereignty of Winnu, and
that the custodians grant the Imperial Throne to their own race as the
rightful heirs of the Lazax.
The Mecatol Winnarans, ever mindful of their responsibility to the entire
galaxy, sorrowfully declined the demand of their brethren. As they did so,
they feared that their short-tempered Winnu brothers and sisters would
become angered, and that the resulting bitterness would forever break apart
whatever kinship remained between them.
The Winnarans’ fear was well placed. Muad Di Faruuq was furious with their
decision and rushed back to Winnu, but not before establishing a consulate
and council presence for the Winnu on Mecatol. Upon his return to Winnu,
he proclaimed the betrayal of the Winnarans, and swore that if Mecatol and
the Imperial Throne would not be ceded to the Winnu by peaceful means,
then, in memory of the Lazax, force would be the only answer.
The Winnu population rushed to Faruuq’s support, a sense of righteousness
and superiority motivating them to an intense mobilization. Building massive
fleets, eerily reminiscent of ancient Lazax designs, and training massive
invasion forces, the Winnu are intent on returning true Lazax culture to the
galaxy.
 MLUAAT
AEL SYSTEM
SYSTEM
THE Y
EMBERS
IN BROTHERHOOD
OF MUAAT Population
Government
7.39 billion
1.81
Tribunal
The Blessed
STELLAR
C HILDRENFORGEMASTERS
OF MOYIN Leadership The Elder
Sushon Azh
Brother
Disposition Grim
Zealous
“A-ah!
“No longer
You will
mistake
the me
Gashlai
for abe
human;
shackled
thatbyweyour
sharewhims.
the blood
Be Tendencies Military
extinguished,
of Jord. I am no
now,sonand
of humanity.
know that My
you life
haveforlost.”
the Yin!” MARIEN
D UAAT Resources 4 Influence 1
4
—Fire —Brother
Warden Umbat
Milor The fiery
Darien surface
is the heartofofMuaat is uninhabitable
the Brotherhood’s realmto
. Here,
mostwithin
races.the
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Yin,here can they
the holy live outside
egg from which allofthe
their cumbersome
Brotherhood wereEmber
made . suits.
PLANET 2 Resources 0 Influence 0
The Fire Wardens of the Gashlai emerged shortly after the [description]
The progeny of Darien and Moyin are a zealous people.
people of Muaat freed themselves from the oppressive grip of
Devoutly religious, their devotion is overshadowed only by
the Hylar. Ambitious and powerful, each Fire Warden carries PLANET 3 Resources 0 Influence 0
their loyalty to their brothers.
with him the hopes and dreams of his people. [description]

Throughout the long Dark Years, the Gashlai prospered.

It was during the early years of the Age of Dusk that Jol-Nar explorers came
upon the volcanic planet of Muaat. Scouting for resources beyond the
Mahact plateau, the explorers were amazed by the mineral wealth of their
discovery, but they were truly awestruck by the extraordinary qualities of the
planet’s fiery inhabitants, the Gashlai.
The Gashlai were unlike any race known to the Jol-Nar: sentient beings with
bodies slowly consumed by a fiery heat. After their conception, the Gashlai
cocooning process somehow enables conversion of energy into mass—a
process hinted at by scientific theory, but forever thought unattainable on a
sub-cosmic scale.
The Jol-Nar benefitted greatly from Muaat’s resources, yet they were
frustrated in their attempts to replicate the Gashlai cocooning process.
Instead, the Gashlai proved useful as slave labor, as the Headmasters
transformed the orbit of Muaat into a massive shipyard for their navy. It was
here, at the Muaat shipyards, that the construction of a secret Jol-Nar
superweapon began.
The Gashlai suffered tragically under their enslavement by the Jol-Nar, but
events of the early Twilight Wars would dramatically change their ill fortune.
Clad in Ember suits, special body armor shielding the Gashlai from the cold
and others from their lethal heat, a large assembly of Gashlai envoys have
recently arrived at Mecatol Rex, demanding recognition and representation.
The High Fire Warden Sushon Azh has simultaneously sent forth Gashlai
ambassadors to all the Great Races in the distinctive gold-bronze frigates of
the Gashlai.
Yet one such ambassador did not arrive in a frigate. As the Gashlai
ambassador assigned to the Jol-Nar sailed past the Garian star and began his
approach to Jol, the Headmasters paled in fear, for this representative
arrived in a War Sun, a copy of their own ancient designs. The message was
not wasted on the Headmasters. Their former slaves had become
formidable, and they had not forgotten, or forgiven, the past.
Led by the Fire Wardens, the Gashlai are resolved to never be enslaved
again. Inside their golden Ember suits they burn with ambition. The Jol-Nar
fear what the rest of the galaxy is about to learn: that the Embers of Muaat
intend to bring their fire to the furthest reaches of space, burning the
unwilling into submission.

Just after the Twilight Wars erupted, a Jol-Nar expedition party searching for
mineral deposits on Muaat became infected by an organism in the Doolak
Mountains. The infection developed into a disease later known as the
Doolak plague. The covert, yet frequent, traffic between Muaat and the
Garian star system allowed for the spread of the virus to the Jol-Nar home
worlds.
The plague became one of the great disasters in Jol-Nar history, and only the
early research of Gashlai biology allowed the Headmasters to devise a
vaccine before the entire Jol-Nar population was destroyed. Before the Jol-
Nar could recover from this disaster, their military offensive collapsed, and
soon the Headmasters would face the ruthless advance of the Sardakk N’orr.
As the Jol-Nar navy retreated, the Headmasters were forced to call forth
their secret weapon at Muaat. This weapon—an enormous battle vessel
called the “War Sun”—was not yet entirely complete, but with their fates
clinging to the defenses of the Saudor system, the Headmasters had no
choice but bring it to bear against the enemy.
As the War Sun left its Muaat moorings, and as the majority of the remaining
Jol-Nar personnel left with it, the Gashlai finally carved their own destiny.
Having long schemed against their enslavers, they incinerated the remaining
Jol-Nar in the system, capturing the shipyards and every available scientific
document left behind by their hated oppressors.
Lazax law strictly forbade the practice of cloning, the dangerous science that
led to the madness, disease, and ultimate downfall of the Mahact kings. The
emperors severely punished any regime or independent scientist dabbling in
this dangerous field.
Darien Van Hauge, a prominent Sol scientist, had lost both his children to the
terrible wasting disease Greyfire. After their loss, he was intent on finding a
cure for this horrible affliction, and refused to let any law stay his hand. In
silent revenge against the destiny of his children, he left his employment with
the prestigious Hospitaler Clinic in New Moscow and traveled to the third
moon of Emelpar, where he secretly sought and finally acquired ancient
Mahact bio studies.
The brilliant Darien made great advances in the following years. His wife
Moyin contributed the embryos he needed for his forbidden experiments.
With his successes, however, word of his work began to leak, and a
congregation of the hopeful began to surround him, bringing their sick and
dying to his care, clinging to a last hope that his discoveries could cure them.
Darien’s secret ended the day a sick child died in his care. The anguished,
remorseful parents blamed Darien for the death and contacted the Sol
authorities. That night, Darien fled Jord with his wife and a few of his most
devout followers.

Not long after their costly victory at Saudor, the Jol-Nar sought to return to
their colony at Muaat, but found that all communications with the system
had been severed. Exploratory ships sent to Muaat would not return.
Though the Headmasters suspected what might have taken place on their old
colony, they were unable to return there in force again.
Now a known fugitive, Darien narrowly escaped capture again and again. To
finally escape the Lazax authorities, his small group joined religious colonists
migrating to a new home on the remote planet of Lael, a place of harsh
oceans and stormy climates. Their fugitive years brought healing and
perspective on the death of their children, and Darien and Moyin found
happiness again on the windy plains of Lael.

THE CLAN OF SAAR
NOMADIC ENGINEERS
“O, Lisis, you whose fate is forever carved into the backs of the
weary. Your spectre is all we see.”
—The Lay of Lisis
It is a testament to the perseverance of the Saar that they even
exist at all. Massacred, scapegoated, and abused by other
races, the Saar cling to life with a ferocity unlike any other.
But a few years later, Moyin developed Greyfire.
Desperate to save his wife, Darien employed all his skills and forbidden
knowledge, but still he failed. Before her death, he extracted a single egg
from her womb—preserving the genetic blueprint of her unborn children.
He burned her body on the summit of the Hills of Grace, which they had
named after their lost daughter. As Moyin’s ashes drifted upwards into the
strong winds, Darien dug a stone out of the hillside with his bare hands and
placed it near the fire. That stone was to become part of the foundation for
the great monastery of Lucas, named after Darien and Moyin’s lost son.
In the following decades, Darien was able to produce a child from a clone of
Moyin’s egg and his own seed. It was a boy. Cloning Moyin’s egg by the
thousands, producing child after child with increasing success, Darien
became a master of the forbidden craft. Yet, inexplicably to him, all the
children were boys, and he was never able to eradicate the vulnerability to
Greyfire from his creation. Though he was able to eliminate the lethal
outcome of the disease in his “sons,” as he called them, the Greyfire would
attack their skins and topical tissues, hideously deforming most of the
children.
After Darien’s death, his sons diligently continued his work. They continued
cloning Moyin’s egg, which they called the “Yin,” and they continued the
production of new “brothers” from their own seed. Over the centuries, the
monastery of Lucas became a vast facility, completely covering the Hills of
Grace and the surrounding plains.
The Brotherhood, blessed with the brilliant minds of both Darien and Moyin,
grew to vast proportions and renamed their planet “Darien.” As the Age of
Dusk neared its end, the Brotherhood ventured into space, establishing
monasteries on Darien’s moons and its surrounding systems.
The Brotherhood long ago abandoned any hope of a female creation, and
instead worship the Yin as the mother and the feminine in their lives.
Despite centuries of continued work, they have never been able to
completely eradicate the signs of Greyfire. Instead, the brothers that are
completely ravaged and deformed by the disease are revered as “The
Blessed,” and the brothers left untouched by the disease are called “The
Untouched.” The Blessed form the inner elders and councilors of the Yin
society. The Untouched are trained as ambassadors to the other races and
as elite soldiers of the Brotherhood.
In their flesh, the brothers carry the secret inner fire and rebellious ambition
of Darien. The oldest of the Blessed, the Elder Brother, intimately
understands the emotions and aspirations of all his brothers. Intent and
unified, the Brotherhood now builds a vast fleet with which to bring Darien’s
legacy and the light of Yin to the Imperial Throne itself.
JORUN ASTEROID FIELD
Population
Government
1.01 billion
Admiralty
Leadership Council of Captains
Disposition Melancholy
Tendencies Objective
RAGH Resources 2 Influence 1
The capital colony of the Saar and the epicenter of the Saar religion. Also called
“Ragh’s Call” by the Saar.
LISIS II Resources 1 Influence 0
The crystal caverns of Lisis II are the source of most of the Jorun colonists’
water and foodstuffs. Notable for the great crescent-shaped valley of Gravar.
PLANET 3 Resources 0 Influence 0
[description]
Few historians dispute that the Saar were the first of the known races to
venture into space, but it remains unknown whether it was need or curiosity
that drove the otherwise primitive people into such exploration. Their
peaceful ways and dispersed civilization never promulgated them to official
Lazax recognition. Some scholars have thus called them “the forgotten race.”
The tale of the Saar is a tragic one. Historical records are awash with
accounts of deliberate planetary expulsions, even massacres, of Saar
settlements found on planets colonized by other races. The musical Saar
often chant the “Lay of Lisis” in memory of the largest known Saar colony
prior to Ragh’s Call. After the planet of Lisis was annexed by the Sardakk
N’orr, no word came from the great Saar settlement there again. They
simply disappeared. In their memory, most Saar females wear a carefully
carved silver pendant called the Y’ouf Lisis, or the “Tear of Lisis.” During the
Houw Shanan, the Saar Holy Day, such pendants are given to young Saar
women, while Saar cubs throw beetles and insects into a raging fire and the
elders howl at the stars with a longing rage.
Before the Call began, the Saar were scattered across the galaxy, existing at
the mercy of other races. On dozens of worlds, Saar could be found living in
slums and sublevel cities, working in the most noxious and despicable
industries, and making slim sustenance from the scraps of other civilizations.
Considered unclean and barely sentient by other races, Saar life was cheap
and subject to little justice. With hard work, polluted environments, and no
access to proper medical care, the bitter lives of the Saar were often short.
It was in the hopeless middle period of the Dark Years that a single Saar,
Ragh Gavar, would forever change the destiny of his people.
Ragh made his living as the captain of an old scrap metal freighter that flew
between Xxehan and Sol, a route that has been in his family for centuries.
Despite being a capable trader, Ragh’s passion lay in poetry and the
imagination of the pen, in the creation of succinct writings of hope, scrawled
on paper scraps during long trade hauls. At his ports of call, other Saar would
often congregate before his loading doors so that they might hear his latest
verses and tales. Many of his listeners began to call him the “Captain of
Hope.”
Yet one year, Ragh did not arrive at his destination. His rusty navigation
system had finally failed, and Ragh’s ship was lost among the stars. Floating
in unknown space, as his ancestors had once done so bravely before him,
Ragh prayed that the One Between the Stars would see him and his small
crew home.
The Call began a few years after Ragh Gavar’s disappearance. Throughout
the great expanses of the galaxy, every Saar began to feel within himself an
unyielding longing for the stars, and especially for a certain distant place
beyond known space.
Early followers of the Call found its origin in the great asteroid field of Jorun,
and here they found a small but blossoming Saar colony on the two gigantic
asteroids of Ragh and Lisis II. As the Call continued, Saar brethren from
across the galaxy continued to arrive at Jorun, together building the
infrastructure of civilization and hope for a lost race.
 FSARRUBAN
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Years before, Ragh’s ship has crashed in the Jorun. Miraculously, he and his eldritch encounters with beings described as strange fibrous clouds of
crew had survived, and with great wonder they soon discovered the mineral energy. While such accounts may have been dismissed in the past as the
richness, frozen water, atmospheric caverns, and strange fauna that lay fantasies of oxygen-deprived sailors, the hindsight of the galaxy’s recent
hidden within the endless ocean of rock. association with the Ghosts places these reports in a more credible light.

Yet Ragh was restless in his new home. It is told that the Captain awoke one
night from a dream and then bade his crewmates farewell, disappearing into
the great network of caverns that lies within the asteroid named after him.
Ragh Gavar was never found or heard from again. But less than a month
after his disappearance, the Call began. Saar mystics believe that the Captain
of Hope has joined the One Between the Stars, and that he at last won
forgiveness for the Saar, and has called them to relieve their suffering. They
believe Ragh’s Call has brought them home, that the life-giving rocks
surrounding them are the remnants of the ancient Saar planet of origin, and
that even in death it is giving its people a second life.
For centuries the unified and passionate Saar people have built a formidable
home and civilization in the Jorun asteroid field. The Saar have finally found
home, and they have found that they are strong.
There are several trade routes that when traced through rather than around
Shaleri space will save the traveler substantial time and fuel. It follows,
therefore, that willingness to brave its dark reputation has come with
substantial profit for those captains who have dared to travel in this “bad
space” and returned to tell the tale. It was in the pursuit of such profit that
the Mentak frigate Entropic undertook its fifth journey through Shaleri space.
The Entropic had been traveling through Shaleri space for three days when it
was interdicted by three formidable vessels of unknown origin. The vessels,
each the size of a Mentak battlecruiser, were of grey lobstered steel, their
surface intricately inscribed with interweaving runic latticework. It is this
meeting between the Entropic and the Creuss warships that is marked as
First Contact between the Ghosts of Creuss and a member race of the
Galactic Council.

They’re ghost stories. Frightful tales whispered to children by nightcycle
lamps. Dread accounts told to fellow sailors in the humming darkness of
long-haul freighters.
Even now, in our growing enlightenment, when we know so much more
about the Shaleri passage and its strange inhabitants, the sheer differentness
of the Shaleri and its Ghosts seduce such tales to persist.
It’s not known why the beings that dwell within the Shaleri anomaly (now
commonly called the “Creuss Gate”) chose to reveal themselves during the
early Years of Awakening. Perhaps they’d finally learned enough about the
galaxy that surrounded them? Perhaps their societal progress had finally
propelled them into the greater universe? A more ominous possibility, one
favored by storytellers, is that the Ghosts of Creuss have come forth for some
sinister purpose yet to be revealed.

An almost endless variation of hearsay and rumor can be found on the topic
of the Shaleri anomaly. Rare records of purported fact are, at best, of
irregular verifiability. While now a respected sociological study, what is truly
known of the Shaleri remains infinitely smaller than the abundance of myth
that clouds its past.
For millennia, space in the proximity of the Shaleri anomaly has been
mistrusted and avoided by spacefarers. Despite the undeniable historic
universality in avoiding this region, few concrete explanations have been
made as to the reason for such aversion. Some simply denote the area as
“high risk.” Others conjecture that the area ebbs with “unknown radiation.”
Regrettably, most navigation records simply refer to the Shaleri region as
“bad space”—the superstitious space-faring analogy of “here be dragons.”
What is known for sure is that Shaleri space has over time been responsible
for an unusually high number of missing vessels. An extraordinarily high
number, in fact. For such a high proportion of lost traffic the absence of
distress beacons, message capsules, or any signs whatsoever of the missing
ships has been described in official records as “disturbing.” It is perhaps
more aptly described, using a favored term of sailors and storytellers, as
spooky.
The mystery of the Shaleri region goes further and deeper that just that of
missing spaceships. Among crews that have safely made journeys through
the region, there are records of strange equipment malfunctions, bad
dreams, and sudden illnesses. There are accounts of purported “sightings”:
As beings of energy and light, the Ghosts certainly can be placed among the
strangest of the known races. The famous historian Merean Barqan
described them as "ethereal luxsynaptic souls.” As their forms do not remain
stable outside the strange gravity of the Creuss itself, the Ghosts garb
themselves in intricate metalwork. Not only does the armor stabilize the
Ghosts, but its tangible shape places members of the other races more at
ease in their presence. Individual Creuss can be discerned from one another
by the unique design of their helmets, which, like their ships, are intricately
carved with runes.
The Ghosts of Creuss have shown themselves to the perfectly civilized, polite,
and masters of many strange sciences and materials. Yet, they’re also
regarded as exceptionally secretive, ritualistic, and prickly on a wide range of
matters. It’s generally undecided whether their behavior is one to be
expected of a race so recently introduced to the material galaxy, or whether
these are signs that something more ominous lurks beneath their brooding
metal helmets.
Brightest in the Morgallen Cluster burns the old star Farruban. While sun to
no less than 26 satellites, Farruban’s only inhabitable planet is the tropical
giant of Nestphar, a planet teeming with life so abundant it almost defies
description.

THE NEKRO VIRUS
RECURSIVE SCOURGE
“The final step of all craft. The gate to eternity. A
transcendency to a state of being that can only be described
as godhood.”
—Mordai, The First
01110011011110010111001101110100011001010110110101
01111101100101011100100100010001001001010001010111
00100110111101110010010001000100100101000101010001
00010010010100010101000100010010010100010101000100
01001001010001010100010001001001010001010100010001
On first approach to Nestphar, a first-time visitor may be surprised by the
soupy haze that bleeds from the planet’s atmosphere like a dusty cloud. This
cloud consists of quadrillions of tiny living spores emitted by Nestphar’s
many Flaah, city-sized floating forests in the stratosphere. The short-lived
(and therefore continually resupplied) orbital presence of the Flaah spores
allows the Arborec denizens in Nestphar’s space-stations and shipyards to
remain in continuous symbiotic contact with their planet. The Arborec term
for this vital connection, shared among all living things on Nestphar, is best
translated as “the Symphony.”
The Arborec should be described not as a race, but as an intelligent
ecosystem consisting of countless biological specimens, from the smallest
spore to the complex fungal organisms of the Letani.
When traveling beyond the reach of Nestphar’s Flaah spores, and therefore
outside connection to the prime Symphony, the Arborec employ the massive
Letani. Physically, the Letani are the largest sentient beings yet discovered in
the galaxy (each slightly larger than a Sol Elephantus), their bodies
resembling a kraken-shaped mushroom crossed with a monstrous
carnivorous flower. The Letani are each uniquely capable of embodying a
powerful instance of the Symphony (and therefore closest to an “individual”
within Arborec society) which may act as a harmonic nexus for Arborec
organisms in near proximity. All ships in the Arborec fleet are based around
the presence of at least one (with some ships as many as five) Letani
orchestrating the unity of Arborec lifeforms crewing the vessel. Once a
Letani returns to the embrace of Nestphar’s prime Symphony, its experiences
are reconnected and absorbed into the Arborec, as a data-capsule would be
reconnected to a mainframe.
The admittance of the Arborec to the Galactic Council was undoubtedly the
most controversial in the council’s long history. A small group of elder races
—led by the humans of Sol—viciously protested admittance by reason of
moral impediment.
While surely intelligent and demonstrably capable of crafting impressive
technologies, structures, and a sophisticated fleet of interstellar craft, the
Arborec’s method of communication remains a source of great controversy.
Being a race of vegetative and fungal matter, handling its own data
transmission and emotive projection through the prime Symphony, the
Arborec had never developed any form of visual or auditory communication
(concepts which, to this day, remain foreign to them).
Arborec scientists found the solution to this dilemma in the Sol merchant
vessel Dies Opulen. The crew of the Dies Opulen had tragically become
infected by Yborin Plague on Maaluuk and had later died in deep space.
When the derelict ship was found by an Arborec scout, it was determined the
cool bodies of the human crew were in perfect condition for an ambitious
experiment. The bodies were sent to the great laboratories in Kushin, near
the Arborec capital Phara.
Here, fungal Arzuga cells were attached to the brainstems of the dead
humans. It was hoped, when grown under proper conditions, the complex
acidic properties of Arzuga would successfully merge the cells with the innate
brain-tissue of the deceased subjects, slowly re-stimulating the neural
ERROR
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MORDAI II Resources 4 Influence 0
Mined to its bones by the virulent Nekro, Mordai II is reinforced by graviton
energy beams that barely keep the world from collapsing in on itself.
PLANET 2 Resources 0 Influence 0
[description]
PLANET 3 Resources 0 Influence 0
[description]
pathways back to life. Then, by injecting photo-voltaic stims into the soft
tissues of the dead body, the neurally active Arzuga would spur the soft
tissue cells to heal and regrow, effectively reanimating the dead body.
The experiment was a rousing success, and one that would change the
destiny of the Arborec. Symbiotically attached to the host body, the Arzuga
fungi evolved into a new being, one which the Arborec call the Dirzuga.
The Dirzuga were the missing link between the Symphony and the
manifestation of physical communication that the Arborec lacked. Over the
following few decades, the Arborec eagerly acquired additional subjects
(human bodies seem to work best and are the most frequently used, but
Letnev, Winnu, and Xxcha bodies are also commonly used as Dirzuga hosts),
establishing a sizable diplomatic and trading corps that have become the
basis for the Arborec’s interaction with the rest of the galaxy.
The Arborec insist the host bodies of the Dirzuga are devoid of the expired
individuals’ consciousness. With a cultural relationship to death rooted in
the natural cycle of decomposition and regrowth, the Arborec have little
understanding or sympathy for those who vigorously protest against the
bodies of their citizens being reused (some use the term “enslaved”) in such
a manner.
Ultimately, despite the objections of the dissident races, the Arborec were
admitted as a member of the Galactic Council. The potential wealth of
foodstuffs, medicines, and other treasures of Nestphar proved effective in
overcoming any objections.
While the Arborec insist that the past knowledge and experiences of Dirzuga
bodies do not persist beyond this reanimation, there are some who suspect
the Arborec do not tell the entire truth. Such theorists can provide many
examples in which the Arborec seem to have come upon information, or
intimate understanding of other cultures, that seem inexplicable otherwise.
If some memories and knowledge of the dead are absorbed by the Arborec,
would emotion and ambition be as well? Is it possible, perhaps even likely,
that in digesting the music of such alien lives, the Arborec are in turn
infecting the Symphony? Is this why the Arborec have come to show keen
interest in colonization and expansion? Is this why they have come to exhibit
signs of duplicity, or even aggression?
There are those who maintain the universe holds no absolutes. That nature
is indifferent to values and emotions. That acceptance of alien behavior and
traditions, and even ambitions, is the principle roadmap to prosperity and
coexistence. They maintain the paramount virtue, being tolerance, allows
for no talk of angels or demons, only for differences in perspective. There
are others who maintain that only in the sheltered gardens of such views can
true evil take root.
As told in detail elsewhere, on the eve of the Lazax Empire’s fall, the
legendary councilor Ibna Vel Syd led a small contingent of his people on a
secret exodus into unknown space and, in doing so, escaped the massacre of
his people that would follow. The travails of Ibna’s refugee-colonists were
many, and only with help of increasingly extreme technological

THE TITANS OF UL
ANCIENT CONSTRUCTS
“The Titans seek something more permanent than a mere
empire.”
—Pyrolusius the Observer
Elysium may well be the largest construct in the galaxy and the
Titans guard its secrets well. Some suspect that since the
Titans themselves are created beings, perhaps their world may
be more than it appears.
augmentation did they survive the early years of resettlement. This reliance
on technology became the foundation of what would evolve into the vast
cybernetic civilization of the L1Z1X.
While the narrative of Ibna’s early struggles are common lore, few know of
the much darker struggle that shadows the L1Z1X’s past: the great schism
which ravaged their society a thousand years before their belligerent return
to known space.
At the time just prior to this great conflict, the L1Z1X had left their humble
colonial roots far behind. Their numbers had grown vast, their industry and
martial prowess had become formidable, and their advancement in
augmentation had reached its high point. The scions of Vel Syd were rapidly
accumulating the power needed to return to known space and reclaim their
lost empire. Already, detailed plans circulated in the Mindnet with that very
goal. Then came the madness of Mordai.
Mordai was the greatest of the L1Z1X enhancers. His innovation and
industry made him foremost among the L1Z1X elite. He worked tirelessly for
the advancement of the Mindnet, always using his own body as the first
subject for any new brilliant augmentation of his own invention. He was
meticulous, inspirational, and brazenly ambitious. He believed in the
possibility of the perfect existential reality: an apex of the living soul and the
helpful machine. This quest was, in his words: “The final step of all craft. The
gate to eternity. A transcendency to a state of being that can only be
described as godhood.”
Unsurprisingly, such hubris would meet its nemesis. As Mordai underwent
the self-imposed implant of a cortex migrator, the first of several devices
leading to this final ascension, something went horribly awry. It’s assumed
that the smallest of software glitches existed in the cortex module,
overlooked even by the meticulous Mordai. As the software began to iterate
and integrate with Mordai’s neural activity, it began a powerful recursive
disease, a virus that would infect Mordai’s sanity.
The personality changes in Mordai were subtle at first. A new subtext
entered his work. A passionate mantra that flesh, that biology, was holding
back the aspirations of the Mindnet. He had come to believe that the
conscious machine was the true higher form of being, one more naturally fit
to rule the galaxy than the accident of phosphorous chemistry at the
primordial heart of biomatter.
Mordai began a series of severe operations to excise the biology of his own
body, encouraging and coercing his staff and investors to do the same.
Mordai’s charismatic preaching soon gained momentum. His growing cadre
of followers, calling themselves the Nekro, began clandestine assaults on
their unwilling brethren, forcefully submitting them to the removal of living
tissue.
By the time the leaders of the Mindnet came to realize that the Nekro
movement had to be stopped, Mordai had completed his transformation into
a fully mechanical being: a gibbering arachnid of black metal, mad with
recursive corruption and the hunger to perpetuate. The efficiency of the
Nekro virus was astounding. Mordai’s body had been rebuilt as a micro-
ELYSIUM
Population
Government
750 million
Total Hierarchy
Leadership The Ul
Disposition Patient
Tendencies Expansionist
ELYSIUM Resources 4 Influence 1
Larger than a thousand terrestrial planets, Elysium is an artificial shell-world built around
the powerful singularity in its hollow heart. Its surface is covered in calm seas and
cultivated plains.
factory, and from it thousands of microscopic insectile machines sprung
forth, attaching themselves to any technology in sight, replicating Mordai’s
madness with horrible speed.
Rebuilding themselves to Mordai’s visions, the new machines became
reproductive. Perceiving the threat posed by the Mindnet, they quickly
began to construct an army with a single terrifying purpose: the utter
elimination of all organic matter.
The war to subdue the Nekro virus was a great setback for the L1Z1X. The
virus’s numbers were legion and its visage sprung from Mordai’s nightmares.
From scorpion-inspired Defilers to the giant Mordreds, each new Nekro
model was more demonic and deadly than the last. Replenishing this evil
army were the monstrous Abbadons: moving factories that ravenously
consumed all materials in their path, seamlessly feeding fresh metals to their
internal construction facilities.
This civil war lasted about five years, with the Mindnet ultimately
vanquishing the virus. It took the L1Z1X nearly five centuries to regain their
former strength, and another five to arrive at their current power. With no
new Nekro instantiation resurfacing for nearly 700 years, the L1Z1X came to
believe the virus was wiped out forever. Until now.
In light of the recent Nekro resurgence, it is conjectured that a virus-infested
orbital satellite must have escaped Null’s gravity during the schism and
vanished undetected into rim space. Here it must have traveled silently for
years until it was pulled into a mineral-rich planet somewhere on the edge of
the galaxy. Left alone to its own devices, the virus was able to adapt and
replicate again. Then, having absorbed most of the material on its accidental
home world, the Nekro clawed its way to space in merciless propagation of
its core mission.
Some will seek to understand and find common ground with the Nekro,
preaching tolerance for the intolerant. But those who have seen the
devastated systems absorbed by the resurgent Nekro know that while angels
remain a fantasy of the hopeful, out of the darkness have come demons.
And in their wake follows blackness and death.
Tens of thousands of years ago, Mahact gene-sorcerers crafted one of their
most brilliant creations, the Titans. Though they looked like massive
machines, beneath their metallic shells each Titan was a living creature of
silicates and steel. They combined the best elements of the biological and
the mechanical. They could work for days without tiring and were
exceedingly durable. They could also heal injuries and, over time, expand
their numbers. Most importantly, they were intelligent beings, not mindless
automatons—though the Mahact programmed them so that the Titans
would never disobey their masters. In all, the gene-sorcerers had created
the perfect guardians and laborers for their kingdoms.
When the Mahact were driven from the galaxy by the Lazax, they seeded
sleepers in their wake to facilitate their eventual return. The greatest of
these were to be the Titans. At the Mahact’s command, the Titans buried
themselves in the wilds of their worlds and went into a deep dormancy. And
they slept, as the Lazax Empire rose and fell, and the Twilight Wars raged and

THE EMPYREAN
ENIGMATIC WATCHERS
“We see what you are. We see what you are not. There is
nothing we do not know.”
—Conservator Procyon
Some say that sprawling, exposed scaffold-structures drift in
the lightless depths of the Dark. Here the Empyrean build their
ships and preserve the true history of the galaxy.
quieted. Occasionally, a Titan may be uncovered by explorers, but they
appeared to be just one more relic of a forgotten past.
Then the Mahact returned, and the gene-sorcerers sent out a call to awaken
their servants. Many of the Titans heard the call and woke. However, the
Mahact had gravely underestimated their creations. During their millennia of
dormancy, the Titans had continued to develop, and their minds had
continued to expand. When they woke, they found that they no longer felt
any compulsion to obey their former masters.
Instead, the Titans began to seek out others of their kind. The greatest
population of Titans had gone dormant on one of the wonders they had
constructed during the last days of the Mahact rule: a massive Dyson sphere.
The Titans had constructed the shell around a singularity, using its harnessed
energy for power, and its immense mass to create gravity on the outer
surface. Now, they claimed their creation, calling it Elysium and summoning
all other Titans to join them.
In the years that followed, the Titans have worked hard to establish their
new civilization. Elysium offers more space than ten thousand normal
planets. This has proven invaluable, because though the Titans grow slowly,
they never stop. The youngest Titans are easily ten meters tall, while an
elder can be the size of a habitat tower. Titans also show a great preference
for order and organization. They freely submit to a hierarchical society,
where the oldest and most experienced Titan, called the “Ul,” rules.
While the Titans are bio-mechanical creatures, they tend to show a great
love of living things. Many Titans devote themselves to cultivating Elysium
into a lush garden world, seeding myriad biomes across its formerly barren
surface. Titan towns blend seamlessly with the surrounding landscape, even
though Titan structures are massive by necessity. That said, since the Titans
tend to spread out across Elysium’s surface, the only true city is their capital,
Transcendence. Here one can find the Ul literally watching over their people.
The eldest Titan is so massive that they eclipse even the largest buildings.
Instead, the Ul stands in the center of Transcendence, unmoving while they
speak with their fellows about the issues confronting their people.
Though the Titans have been preoccupied with cultivating their new world
and developing their society, they have not forgotten about the wider galaxy.
Already trading vessels descend on Elysium with holds full of rare minerals
and exotic plant and animal life. In exchange, the Titans construct wondrous
devices from the ancient days, and travel to other worlds to build huge
orbital stations and massive geoforming and terraforming projects. They
continue to scour the galaxy, looking for any of their kin who may still
slumber beneath the surfaces of countless worlds.
As the ancient prophecies come to pass and war looms, the Ul looks into the
skies of Elysium and sees a galaxy in chaos. They know that the only chance
that teeming multitudes scattered across countless worlds have for survival is
a steady hand guiding them to peace. They know that while some may not
realize it, there is a place for everyone in the universe, and everyone must
find their place—with the Titans to watch over them all.
THE DARK
Population
Government
Fluctuates
Collective
Leadership None
Disposition Contemplative
Tendencies Political
THE DARK Resources 3 Influence 4
A massive nebula dominating the skies of many core worlds. Thick clouds of dust obscure
its heart, a lightless refuge where Empyrean ships have congregated for millennia.
Since time immemorial, travelers have told tales of the Empyrean, enigmatic
beings who live in the depths of space. The oldest Jol-Nar libraries have
references to faceless creatures who sailed the void long before the Hylar left
their watery cradle. Winnaran custodians still maintain fragmented historical
documents that managed to survive the ancient Sol bombardment and
suggest that the Empyrean predate the discovery of supraluminal travel, a
technology so old that no race has presented credible evidence that they
invented it first. If these records are to be believed, the Empyrean have been
crossing the vast gulf of space in sublight vessels for tens of thousands of
years before the first FTL drives made galactic civilization possible.
Whether or not this is true, historians agree that whenever a species
establishes colonies beyond their homeworld, the Empyrean arrive to
observe their progress. They tend to lurk on the edges of star systems,
making no effort to announce their presence. They can remain drifting in the
outer cometary halos for centuries, occasionally sending unobtrusive probes
orbiting through the inner system for closer observations.
Though they do not actively avoid confrontations, anthropologists and
diplomats who have attempted to establish contact with the Empyrean tend
to find them frustratingly noncommunicative. Individual Empyrean tend to
avoid answering questions about their purpose in observing the actions of
other species, or about themselves or their civilization. Though they are
sometimes referred to as the galaxy’s “historians,” nobody knows if the
Empyrean keep a unified record of galactic events. If they do, they have not
shared it with anyone else.
Most of what is known of the Empyrean has been gleaned through direct
observation. The most startling fact about them is that they are a species
who survive in space. Their ships have no pressurized compartments, and
beyond some radiation and debris protection, are completely exposed to
vacuum. The Empyrean themselves have no visible sensory organs or
orifices, and seem to spend much of their time absorbing starlight with the
great leathery wings that protrude from their backs. Their body shape does
suggest that they evolved on a planet’s surface, leading some scientists to
suggest that their original home may have been largely airless. Others
believe that at some point in the distant past, the Empyrean were a more
traditional avian species who biocrafted themselves to thrive in the vacuum
of space.
Whatever their origins, most species find interacting with the Empyrean
difficult. Communication isn’t a problem—individual Empyrean are able to
broadcast radio waves that can be picked up by most standard comms
devices—but patience is. The Empyrean act slowly and deliberately, perhaps
a consequence of subsisting on the meager solar energy of stars, or possibly
because of their extremely long lifespans. They can spend hours or even
days contemplating an answer to a single question. In addition, Empyrean
society seems to operate as a form of communal anarchy. They make
decisions based on the consensus of all Empyrean currently present. They
seem cooperative enough that this works, but it does mean governments
have no way to negotiate with the “whole of the
Empyrean people.”
 NAAZIR
ATHARAL
-ROHKAGAS
DUAL
TORUS
SYSTEM
THE A
NRGENT
AAZ-ROKHA
FLIGHTALLIANCE Population
Government
1.84 billion
12.7
Alliance
Confederation
ZAEALOUS
LLIED ARCHAEOLOGISTS
AVIAN SENTINELS Leadership The Murmuration
Tetrarchy
Disposition Optimistic
Dedicated
“You tread
“For too upon
long thesacred
galaxyground. There is over
has squabbled no path
theto atonement
bones of our Tendencies Scientific
Military
for your sins, only swift and merciless defeat.”
predecessors. It’s time for something new.” NVAR
A AAZIR Resources 2
1 Influence 1
—Sakora Aun Navori, Argent Vanguard
—Tetrarch Clik A smallthan
Lighter planet of high worlds,
its companion mountains
Avar isand deep,
riddled with narrow seas.
caverns. The Citiesofand
majority vertical
the Atharal farms
Torus lives in
the bustling aeries within, sheltered from the radiation bursts emanating from nearby Phorus.
burrow into cliff faces, while orbital factories produce high-tech consumer goods.
VALK
ROKHA Resources
Resources 2 1 Influence
Influence 0
2
The ecology of the Atharal Torus is a biological wonder. Many Valk contains lodes of rare minerals and metals within its crust. Skyhooks bring
Most agree
animals havethatevolved
the cooperation
to travel between
betweenthetheNaaz andworlds.
three Rokha Terraformed by comet-drops and Alliance biotech into a cool world with alpine forests and
ore shipments
stormy seas. Theup
cityfrom the surface
of Dormont to thethe
Vault boasts open-air
famousshipyards in orbit.
Exotic Energies Institute.
is an impressive feat in a galaxy full of suspicion and
Some, such as the Tol-whale, even spend their entire lives enmity.
YLIR Resources 0 Influence 2
Most also
soaring agree
in the gasthat
ring.they wished the Naaz and Rokha wouldn’t The smallest of the three planets in the Atharal Torus, Ylir is covered in kilometers of
brag about it so much. water. The Murmuration meets in platform cities that drift with the currents.

They do, however, make some effort to engage with other sentients, such as
donning clothing to make guests feel at ease. They also engage in trade for
rare metals and trace elements in exchange for new astronomical and
scientific information. Most species tend to ignore the Empyrean unless they
seek some esoteric knowledge, or the Empyrean approach them first.
In recent years, more and more black-winged Empyrean ships have begun to
gather near major trade lanes and on the outskirts of civilized systems. Some
free traders have begun to refuse to follow the deep space commerce trails,
repeating rumors that ships have begun to vanish in greater numbers, and
Empyrean craft have been sighted following lone vessels. One Empyrean
ship has even traveled to Mecatol Rex, and individuals who say they speak
for the Empyrean have engaged in long meetings with the Winnarans in
Mecatol City.
These representatives say they believe the galaxy will soon be engulfed by a
storm worse than the Twilight Wars of a millennia ago. They maintain that
the struggle for the throne will tear the galaxy to shreds, and that none of
the rising powers have the mandate or the moral authority to rule over their
fellows. Instead, the Empyrean have come to believe that only a truly
neutral arbitrator can hope to rule a galactic Empire; an arbitrator that
already knows all other species better than they know themselves.
The Naaz have had the distinct misfortune of being a species of technological
savants who were discovered by other races before they could build their
own civilization. In the chaotic aftermath of the Twilight Wars, their world of
Naazir was happened upon by scouts for a Winnu corporate-collective. The
collective promptly set up an industrial colony on Naazir and began exploiting
the talents of the Naaz. This continued until the corporate leaders were
charged and prosecuted for their crimes against sentients… at which point a
small army of Sol deserters invaded and claimed Naazir as their own.
The pattern continued for centuries, with the Naaz barely able to rid
themselves of one conqueror before being invaded by the next. Eventually, a
network of Naaz rebels gathered enough resources to try a new plan. To get
rid of their current overlords (an alliance of Letnev merchant-princes), they
would hire an equally downtrodden group of mercenaries – the Rokha.
The Rokha are a race of felids, distant relatives of the Hacan who long ago
split with their genetic cousins. Their story since the Twilight Wars had also
been one of tragedy, forced to become a race of nomad warriors, employed
as mercenaries but barred from settling in any civilized system in the galaxy.
To the Rokha the Naaz were just one more in a long line of employers. But
that would change.
The nascent alliance between the Naaz and the Rokha proved successful,
driving the merchant princes from their world. However, in the aftermath of
the victory, the Naaz did something the Rokha did not expect. They offered
them the chance to settle on Naazir and join the Naaz in a unified society.
Exhausted from centuries of a nomadic life, the Rokha accepted.
Together, the Naaz-Rokha Alliance proved much greater than the sum of its
parts. Not only did the two species complement one another, their shared
history as the galaxy’s outcasts drove them to work all the harder together to
ensure neither would be taken advantage of again. The two cultures didn’t
just co-exist, they merged. Every level of Naaz-Rokha society became an
equal partnership, from families (a typical Naaz-Rokha family consists of two
Naaz and two Rokha, plus any children from either couple) to government
(the Alliance Chamber of Congress is overseen by an executive Tetrarchy of
two Naaz and two Rokha who each oversee different portions of Alliance
territory). When any elected official steps down, only an official from the
other species is allowed to take their place. And when the Alliance
terraformed and colonized one of Naazir’s neighboring worlds so that the
Rokha could have a homeworld of their own, the population of the new
world was equally divided between both species – the same as Naazir.
The Alliance would undoubtedly have been satisfied to build their own
civilization and keep the other races from exploiting it. However, the Creuss
expedition to Ixth changed their trajectory. Two of the few survivors from
that ill-fated adventure were a pair of Naaz-Rokha scientists. They, along
with a few lucky others, were able to escape aboard a Letnev corvette even
as the rest of the expedition was captured by the Mahact. Then, as the other
survivors reported to the Council, the scientists returned to Naazir with
precious readings from the Acheron gateway, as well as the machinery that
created it.
Using this invaluable information as a starting point, the Alliance has
discovered a means of creating momentary micro-wormholes into another
dimension and tapping the energy released during that process. This
“entropic field harvesting” has proven marvelously efficient. Alliance ships
and factories now drink deeply from entropic field taps, and the other
galactic powers have suddenly been confronted by the reality that two
species they long ago dismissed and exploited are now very real players on
the galactic stage.
As chaos builds around the Mahact return, the Tetrarchy has stood before
the Chamber of Congress and announced its intent. The Naaz-Rokha Alliance
has already demonstrated that two species can live harmoniously as one.
Who better to take control of the ancient seat of the Imperium and bring
that harmonious cooperation to the stars?
Few alive today have dealings with the Shikrai. This collection of related
avian subspecies lives scattered across a stretch of the galactic rim. Their
clutch of worlds are dry, windswept, and poor, lacking in valuable resources
or useful minerals. Their small and technologically backward populations
tend to stay out of galactic affairs. Most rightfully dismiss the Shikrai as just
one more group of sentients in a galaxy full of life.
But there is more to the Shikrai than the rest of the galaxy, or even
themselves, realize.
Long ago, Shikrai territory had the misfortune of being the disputed
vassalage of two powerful Mahact. These gene-sorcerers fought a vicious
internecine war for the avians’ planets, with the Shikrai forced to fight as
proxies on both sides. Shikrai partisans fought back as best they could, but
they had no hope of defeating the armies of two gene-sorcerers. There was
no doubt the Shikrai would be consumed by the fight to claim them…until a
Lazax battlegroup arrived. A Lazax warlord named Harkor Ilban Tal liberated
the Shikrai and personally slew both gene-sorcerers in single combat.

THE VUIL’RAITH CABAL
INTERDIMENSIONAL DEVOURERS
“YOUR FORM IS FRAGILE AND WEAK. LET ME RELIEVE YOU OF
YOUR HARDSHIPS.”
—That Which Molds Flesh
While there may be a scientific explanation for the Vuil’raith’s
existence, that is cold comfort for those who must face these
nightmares made flesh.
To pay their debt, the remaining Shikrai immediately allied with Tal.
Eventually, when the Mahact were exiled beyond the Acheron Gate, the
Shikrai made a pledge to their allies. They would contribute a tithe of their
best warriors and scholars to found an organization that would watch
Acheron and ensure the Mahact would never return. They would call it the
Argent Flight.
To do so, the Shikrai turned to their ancestral homeworlds of Valk, Avar, and
Ylir, which they had abandoned long ago when they set out to colonize the
stars. The Lazax erased all mention of the worlds from their newly
constructed Hall of Cartography, and the newly founded Argent Flight
retreated to their sanctuary to wait…and prepare.
Valk, Avar, and Ylir are curiosities even in a galaxy full of wonders. The three
worlds are barely larger than moons, and share a narrow orbit between the
neutron star Phorus and the gas giant Hacid. The unique environment
created the Atharal Gas Torus—a ring of breathable air in orbit around
Phorus. The three worlds orbit in the center of the ring, and the Shikrai say
their winged ancestors used to fly from world to world.
In the millennia since their return, the Argent Flight has worked hard to
colonize the three worlds and the smaller chunks of rock that drift between
them. Numerous flocks of Shikrai live throughout the torus. Each flock
focuses on a different trade or calling, and any member of the Argent Flight
can join or leave a flock as they choose. Their actions are coordinated by the
Murmeration, a council of representatives from each flock who direct the
Argent Flight from their spindle tower sanctuary on Avar.
The Murmeration continues to quietly recruit promising members from the
various Shikrai worlds, though the population of the Atharal Torus is now
large enough to be self-sustaining. It has also developed beyond simply a
martial order into a fully functional society. Large-bellied cloud-scoops dive
into the atmosphere of Hacid to gather rare gases that can be refined into
industrial compounds, while the comet miners of the outer system keep the
Atharal Torus well-supplied in fresh water. The Argent Flight has even
genecrafted the massive, zero-gravity trees that live free-floating in the Torus
so that they grow edible fruits, and has built mechanical grav-wings so that
its members can soar from planet to planet once more.
However, the Argent Flight still remembers its sworn oaths. Millennia of
service have seen its duty evolve into something akin to a religion, and the
Shikrai see themselves as sacred guardians appointed by the galaxy’s rightful
rulers. The various flocks never revealed themselves to the wider galaxy
during the Twilight Wars. Instead they fought their own battles in the
shadows against the Mahact’s sleeper agents and greedy explorers who
ventured too deeply into Shaleri Space. And they succeeded in their task
until a new race, the Creuss, sent an expedition past the Tolari Pulsar too
large to defeat in combat.
In the aftermath of the Mahact’s awakening, the Argent Flight has begun to
gather its forces. The Murmeration is in accord; the time for secrecy is past.
Already, agents move amongst the Shikrai worlds, calling worthy fighters to
take the vows of the Flight. In the open-air ship docks of the Atharal Torus,
master shipwrights have laid down the keels of sleek, gull-winged destroyers.
ACHERON VORTEX
Population
Government
Unknown
Cabal
Leadership None
Disposition Voracious
Tendencies Military
ACHERON Resources 4 Influence 0
Once a dusty, dead world concealing a portal to Ixth. Now, a gravity rift has shattered the
world, creating a labyrinth of strange energies and tumbling shards of rock.
The Argent Flight knows, now that its ancient nemesis has returned, that it
has no choice—it must lead the rest of the galaxy on a holy crusade to finish
what the Lazax started so long ago.
Philosophers and scientists have long theorized that the galaxy is only one of
a host of realities. These other dimensions exist on a different plane, and the
physical laws one takes for granted in this space—such as gravity and
entropy—may be wildly different or nonexistent. The existence of fabled
worlds like Mallice seems to support such conjectures, for the world may
exist in one such alternate reality. Some researchers even attempt to predict
the nature of these theoretical dimensions. However, even the most
deranged scientist could not imagine a universe of seething, fleshy masses
floating in a thick, cloying mist, or the ravenous creatures that could thrive in
such a place.
After the disaster on Acheron, a single Letnev corvette returned from the
depths of Shaleri space with the horrifying tale of what had befallen the
Creuss expedition to Ixth. As the various members of the Galactic Council
began to gather their forces to deal with the Mahact, the Mentak Coalition
dispatched one of its fastest void sloops to reconnoiter the Acheron system
and see what the Mahact may be up to.
After a week’s hard travel, the void sloop drifted quietly in past the Acheron
system’s icy outer bodies and got its first good look at the gateway to Ixth.
To the crew’s shock, the planet was no more. Acheron had shattered into
shards of rock that now tumbled around an immense roiling vortex of
gravitational instability that seethed with a baleful purple light.
The vortex was in the midst of consuming the inner system. Even days out,
the sloop’s commander could feel the strain on her vessel, and watched in
horror as Acheron’s star twisted and writhed under the assault. But she
pressed on, as close as she dared. There was no sign of the Mahact or the
Creuss expeditionary armada. However, there were strange readings
amongst the tumbling remnants of the planet. When one of the sensor
returns suddenly accelerated toward her ship, the commander had her crew
put about and fled for open space. That was the last successful expedition to
the Acheron system.
In the months following the event, researchers and intelligence operatives
began to make conjectures about what new threat had fallen on the galaxy.
Ixth, supposed paradise and ancient home of the Mahact, sat far outside the
bounds of the galaxy. In order to construct a gateway that could reach
across the gulf of intergalactic space, the Mahact had to sink it deep into the
very fabric of spacetime. As part of their entropic field research, the Naaz-
Rokha theorized that the wormhole may have crossed the threshold of this
universe, into an entirely different dimension.
When the Mahact awoke, they ripped their world from its orbit and flung it
into the galaxy’s heart. In doing so, they destroyed the Acheron Gateway,
leaving a great gaping wound in the planet’s heart and in the fabric of the
universe.
Through this rift came the Vuil’raith—a race of creatures from beyond the
stars, resembling the demons that haunt many of the galaxy’s oldest myths.
 SPACE STATION
IXTH SUMERIAN
THE NOMAD
HE M AHACT GENE-SORCERERS Population
Government
Unknown
167 million
Station Master
Coalition
M AD KINGSW
TEMPORAL OF OLD
AYFARER Leadership Vertar
The Nomad
Auran Oblis
Disposition Altruistic
Imperious
“The future must be preserved at all costs.” Tendencies Economic
Objective
“KNEEL.”
—TheShir
—Airo Nomad
Aur IAXTH
RCTURUS Resources 4
3 Influence 4
5
Cold
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advantage.

No two are alike, and they range in size from tiny monsters no larger than a
finger to great fleshy beasts as large as dreadnoughts that swim through the
void. They have infested the twisted space around the bones of Acheron.
From there they gather their forces and cast their covetous eyes upon the
galaxy.
The Vuil’raith are not mindless monsters. They possess a malign intelligence
and powerful ambitions. They are even led by a Cabal, though the council
has no set size. If a Vuil’raith is vicious and powerful enough to slay all of its
rivals, eventually it amasses enough power to join the Cabal’s ranks. It
remains a part of the Cabal as long as it can dominate a significant horde of
lesser Vuil’raith and keep its foes from slaying it to lay claim to its holdings.
However, there are no true allies in the Cabal; only mutually distrusted rivals
bound by shared interests.
The Cabal has set out to sow dissension ahead of its invasion. Cults of the
Vuil’raith fester in the shadows of the galaxy’s great cities. The weak-willed
and disaffected are drawn to serve the Cabal, some with the hope of reaping
grand rewards, while others simply want to watch the galaxy burn. The
Vuil’raith send their agents to advance their interests and weaken their foes,
and even the halls of the Galactic Council may not be free of their taint.
identity, after all. Others insisted that the Nomad was a single individual,
even in the face of rumors that they had conducted business in several
different star systems across the span of a few days. Still, most dismissed the
Nomad as a harmless curiosity—until Sumerian.
Space Station Sumerian encircles the frostbitten world of Arcturus. Though
the ice-locked planet has few inhabitants save for the smugglers who hide
caches of contraband on the surface, the massive station is one of the busiest
independent trading ports in the galaxy. Laws are loose and enforcement
lax, so one can buy nearly anything in one of Sumerian’s hundreds of markets
and bazaars. Ships from every corner of the galaxy dock in its shipping bays,
and the various galactic powers have traditionally left Sumerian alone while
quietly skimming riches from the businesses conducted there.
In the course of a few weeks, the Nomad took over Sumerian, seemingly by
chance. A series of licenses, contracts, and deals ended and began at the
perfect time to grant the Nomad control of the station’s operations and most
of its major factions. The few magnates and mercenary leaders who
attempted to resist the takeover simply vanished. The head of Sumerian, a
trader by the name of Huro M’es, ended up being quietly arrested and
imprisoned.

Meanwhile, the worlds on the edges of Shaleri space have come under
assault from the Vuil’raith. Looming flesh-ships smash system defense fleets
from the void, and crackling portals open in the streets to disgorge hordes of
ravenous demon-beasts. With the Acheron rift providing an anchor into this
reality, the Vuil’raith work tirelessly to build additional gateways to their
hellish domain, their only desire to rip open the heart of Mecatol Rex and set
a gateway amongst its bones.
Shortly before the Creuss Expedition left to plumb the depths of Shaleri
Space, a number of sensor nets and observatories began to receive messages
broadcast from the very heart of the galaxy. These messages repeated in a
multitude of languages, and warned of a dark future to come that must be
prevented at all costs. What struck the various scientists as odd was the
source—the galactic center being utterly devoid of life—and the means of
transmission. The messages were not sent via supraluminal
communications, but instead broadcast on ancient radio frequencies. That
meant the message had been sent thousands of years before the Lazax first
founded their empire on Mecatol Rex.
In the confused wake of the Creuss disaster, the galaxy’s network of data
brokers began sharing stories of a wealthy individual who was hungry for
information. Brokers rarely met with their new client in person, but the few
who did said they were a nondescript humanoid wearing an environmental
suit and shrouded in merchant’s garb. They referred to themself only as “the
Nomad,” and paid in valuable information as often as in coin. The Nomad
seemed particularly interested in any information regarding the failed Creuss
expedition, and about the scattered rumors of nightmare demons haunting
Shaleri space.
Some argued that the Nomad had to be a mask for members of a larger
organization. Anyone could use an environmental suit to obscure their
With the Nomad in control of Sumerian, they began to expand their grasp
over the surrounding systems. It quickly became apparent that the Nomad
had access to nearly limitless sums of money, and they used their funds to
buy influence in planetary governments and outright control of corporations.
At the same time, mercenary groups began flocking to Sumerian, drawn by
promises of lucrative contracts. Whole starships were purchased through
shell corporations and eventually ended up in Sumerian docks, being refitted
with military weapons and hardware. The Nomad also brought with them a
small cadre of loyal agents that they seemed to trust to act in their name.
The most feared of these was the Creuss warrior Ahk Syl Siven, whose armor
glowed with intermingled blue and crimson sparks.
Many have since come to realize that the Nomad is the center of a creeping
web of influence and blackmail that stretches across the galaxy, and at the
same time has also amassed a formidable mercenary army. However, all
attempts to covertly eliminate this nascent threat have thus far ended in
failure. The Nomad seems to have an almost prescient ability to anticipate
threats and defeat them. Whoever the Nomad is, they clearly are enacting a
plan of mind-boggling scope and complexity. Now, as their agents infiltrate
the Galactic Council and mercenary warships set out from Sumerian’s docks,
many suspect that the ultimate goal of that plan is Mecatol Rex.
Gene-sorcerers. Mad tyrants. Kings. The Mahact are a primal tale from
ancient history. In the distant past, the Mahact dynasties terrorized the
galaxy with their infighting and gene-sorcery. They could warp the forms of
living beings, compel eternal obedience with a gesture, and turn the
biospheres of entire worlds into seething, caustic hells. They unleashed their
most vile technologies in war or even in debauched sport, and it seemed,
even as their houses crumbled, that their fall might bring down all of civilized
space.

THE COUNCIL KELERES
GALACTIC PEACEKEEPERS
“Our duty is to protect the billions of people in our galaxy, not
the few hundred in these Council Chambers.”
—Tribuni Harka Leeds
The old Imperial Intelligence HQ in Mecatol City serves as both
a temporary base for the Keleres as well as the site of its future
home – the Custodia Vigilia – which is currently undergoing a
lengthy and expensive construction process.
But in the midst of their orgy of self-destruction, a new Empire rose to
challenge them. The Lazax, a young and fiery race, led the effort to destroy
the Mahact and restore peace. When the last Mahact King was slain, the
Lazax claimed the fruits of their victory, establishing just dominion over the
ashes of the Mahact’s kingdoms.
However, the truth was somewhat more complicated than the Lazax wished
anyone to remember.
The new Empire did overthrow the Mahact Kings, slaying many of them and
claiming the Mahact’s main fortress of Mecatol as their own. However, the
Mahact were too powerful to defeat utterly. The last of them retreated from
Mecatol, sowing anarchy and chaos in their wake, and leaving agents and
sleepers to do their bidding. They fled the galaxy to their original home, the
planet of Ixth. This world lay far beyond the furthest wisps of dust on the
galactic arms, unreachable except through the great wormhole gate of
Acheron. Here, in their ancient fastness, the remaining Mahact plotted their
eventual return.
The Lazax pursued their foes to the entrance of the gate on Acheron, but
every attempt they made to invade Ixth failed. So the young Empire tried a
different plan. They studied the gate’s arcane workings, and though they
could not destroy it, they could shut it down. Thus, Lazax engineers
deactivated the gate and buried its machinery beneath an entire ocean to
guarantee that none would ever discover it again. They even purged all
nearby worlds of life, turning surrounding space into a wilderness.
Without control of the machinery on Acheron, the Mahact could not reopen
their gate, or even rip it free and set its endpoint somewhere else in the
galaxy. They were trapped on their dying world, overlooking a galaxy that
was steadily forgetting their existence. Eventually, the remaining Mahact
entered the stasis crypts beneath their dead city, to sleep until the stars
burned out around them.
And there they remained, until the Creuss expedition discovered the Acheron
gate, opened it, and awoke them.
In an instant, the first Mahact saw the Creuss explorers and used arcane
techno-rituals to dominate them and summon their ships through the
Acheron Gate. Then, having no desire to remain prisoners on Ixth, the
Mahact used the gate machinery to rip Ixth free from its star and hurl it into
the heart of the galaxy. Never again would they be trapped on their
homeworld.
Now Ixth sails untethered through the galactic core, and the Mahact survey
their former domain. Though there are only a handful of them left, each has
the power of eons of technosorcery at their fingertips. The remaining
Mahact turn to their own holdings, awakening their Ixthian bio-factories and
assemblers, and summoning their dormant agents and their genetic
descendants.
The corridors and halls of Ixth’s great city-machines fill with the gene-
sorcerers’ thrall clones. Immense dreadnoughts have begun to rise from the
underground assembler halls to hang in orbit over the planet. Legions of
IMPERIAL INTELLIGENCE HQ
Location
Leadership
Mecatol City
The Tribunii
Agents Classified
Support Staff ~5,000
Ongoing Ops Classified
CUSTODIA VIGILIA Resources 2 Influence 3
Custodia Vigilia. The fully realized seat of the Keleres. A veritable fortress in the
heart of Mecatol Ciy. Ten thousand people come and go daily, and the Keleres see
them all.
Pax magnifica, bellum gloriosum.
genecrafted warriors assemble in the mustering squares, ready to march to
war.
As the Mahact began to marshal their forces, a single golden ship appeared
in orbit over Mecatol Rex. It descended to the Senate Processional in the
heart of Mecatol City, touching down on the perfectly manicured trille grass
lawn. The hatches opened, and four emissaries stepped out. Each was one
of the observers the Council had dispatched to the Creuss expedition to Ixth,
reported lost by the few survivors who escaped. Now they wore robes of
gold and steel, and were flanked by hulking Creuss legionaries, whose armor
seethed with an ominous crimson glow.
They walked into the chambers of the Galactic Senate without fanfare or
invitation and stood in the middle of the hall. Before the stunned audience,
they announced that they were the emissaries of Vertar Auran Oblis, first
amongst the galaxy’s rightful race of rulers. They went on to say that, as
Oblis was a magnanimous ruler, all those who surrendered immediately
would be favored slaves.
The emissaries returned to their ship and left the city behind. However,
many fear that it is only a matter of time before a golden armada returns to
the sky above Mecatol Rex. And when it does, the Mahact will return the
world to the center of their kingdom.
Across the galaxy, planetary governors compete for trade opportunities, the
Great Civilizations joust for superiority on the battlefront, and still other,
more insidious factions play at shaping galactic history for their own ends. In
a galaxy fraught with so many agendas, it’s no surprise that the Galactic
Council took it upon itself to assemble a force of its own to manage its
affairs. The Keleres of the Council are that force, but they are also something
more. They are a ragtag army of bureaucrats, soldiers, and spies, often at
odds with themselves and not always appreciated by the galaxy they serve.
Though the Keleres are born of the Galactic Council, they are often left to
their own devices, traveling the galaxy brokering peace, intervening in
conflicts, and tackling threats to galactic civilization as a whole. They even
act without the consent of the Tribunii or the Galactic Council when
timeliness is a factor, only to be censured by the Galactic Council after the
fact.
The member states of the Council send recruits, who are selected according
to the traditions of each individual planet or system, to serve in the Keleres.
The Great Powers have learned, since the Keleres’s founding, that the
Keleres are a useful tool for furthering their own designs. Rather than
sending their best operatives away to the Keleres, many send political
opponents, incompetents, dangerous prisoners, and other individuals who
are difficult to do away with and undesirable to have around. On the other
hand, a few Great Powers find it prudent to send highly competent
personnel, sometimes out of respect for the Galactic Council but more often
than not to clandestinely advance their own goals. The Keleres, then, are a
strange and difficult order to manage.
The Galactic Council elects three of its own to be the Tribunii of the Keleres.
Members of the Council treat the responsibility with mixed sentiment: as
both an honor and a burden. The Tribunii have the power to command the
Keleres and to implement the designs of the Galactic Council in a concrete
way. However, the mixed quality of the Keleres means having to accept no
small number of failures, which, in turn, can hurt the Tribunii when members
of the Galactic Council seek accountability. Canny Tribunii, such as Tribunii
Kuuasi Aun Jalatai, learn when best to use the Keleres, when to set them
aside, and who among the ranks are right for the job.

The fraught political environment means that most Councilors don’t serve as
Tribunii long. In the five years since the Keleres’ founding, there have been
seven Tribunii, including the current holders of the office. Two were forced
to resign in disgrace, one was killed on a mission, and one was assassinated
in an intra-agency power struggle. For those Tribunii who meet and
overcome the challenge of utilizing the force of the Keleres, however, the
fruits are significant indeed. It requires much talent for this to happen, but
when it does, it can tip the balance of the Galactic Council itself.

The three Tribunii who currently serve are in delicate balance, and therefore
the future of the Keleres and the Imperium itself may be at a tipping point.
Kuuasi is oldest and wisest among them. Harka Leeds is as ambitious and
cunning as she is ruthless in her schemes. Odlynn Myrr, though new to the
role, brings a fresh perspective and hope for unity and stability in the
Imperium.

Despite the delicate balance of power between the Tribunii, the Keleres
represent the Galactic Council and, as such, must embody the unity of the
galaxy, not just the whims of its leaders. The Great Civilizations, however,
frequently compete with one another in trade, war, and politics. Though
some conflict can cement the bonds of a society, too much can just as easily
rip it apart. Thus, the diverse skills of the Keleres are brought to bear on
missions of peace and negotiation.

At times, the Keleres act as a neutral party or temporary ally among factions
at war. Negotiation, knowledge of history, and familiarity with alien species
pave the way to peace and prosperity for the galaxy. They broker peace on
the one hand, but join battles on the other, especially when violence seems
to be the only means to stability.
Planet Type Resources Influence Special
Mecatol Rex Capital (3) ; 1 6 -
Seat to the Lazax, Mecatol Rex serves as home to the Galactic Council. Its green fields are only interrupted by sprawling cities of unimaginable wealth.
Once a splendid place, now a sad devastated wasteland. Only the radiation-shielded Mecatol City, the seat of powerful Galactic Council, remains habitable.
Custodia Vigilia Home (Keleres) 2 3 Custodia Vigilia
Custodia Vigilia. The fully realized seat of the Keleres. A veritable fortress in the heart of Mecatol Ciy. Ten thousand people come and go daily, and the Keleres see them all.
[Custodia Vigilia] Pax magnifica, bellum gloriosum.
Hercant Home (Hacan) 1 1 -
Also called the “Fire Sand.” Seat of the Quieron, the Hacan council, and the Sword Fleet. Harbors the greatest of the famous Hacan moving cities.
Arretze Home (Hacan) 2 0 -
Also called the “Moving Sand.” The desert home of the Hacan Mowshir trade families and the great orbital trading ports of Haal, Shimax, and Dry Wind.
Kamdorn Home (Hacan) 0 1 -
Also called the “Dream Sand.” The least populated of the Hacan planets, but the center of Hacan mythology and religion. The only known source of starflowers.
Jord Home (Sol) 4 2 -
Distinctly seasonal, with the greatest variety of climates and ecologies in the galaxy . The Federation of Sol rules the Jord humans from the great city of New Moscow .
Arc Prime Home (Letnev) 4 0 -
Below the thin surface atmosphere lie the continent-sized caverns of the Letnev. Rich in metals and energy, its vast fungus fields struggle to feed its population.
Wren Terra Home (Letnev) 2 1 -
Arid, windy, and populated primarily by predatory Daartar hounds. The Barony utilizes large swaths of its northern steppes for low-yield agriculture.
Archon Ren Home (Xxcha) 2 3 -
Populated by small arboreal villages, this planet’s only true urban center is the royal city of Kklaj . The Xxcha home world and home to the renowned library of Xuun .
Archon Tau Home (Xxcha) 1 1 -
Ravaged by Sol and Letnev bombardments during the Twilight Wars . The Xxcha commit substantial resources to rebuilding its ecology and cleansing its toxic continents .
Jol Home (Jol-Nar) 1 2 -
Covered by cold oceans and a few inhospitable islands. The seat of the Headmaster, the Hylar ruler, who dwells in the deep underwater city of Wun-Escha.
Nar Home (Jol-Nar) 2 3 -
Covered by mild oceans and a small archipelago called The Reef by off-worlders . The Circle of Regents makes its home in the underwater city-school of Nuun-Dascha .
Quinarra Home (N’orr) 3 1 -
Enormous and oceanless. Not only the largest planet supporting sentient life, but also the one with the least moisture. Home to the Sardakk N’orr hive-cities.
Tren’lak Home (N’orr) 1 0 -
Icy and desolate. Other than the ferocious snow dracs and the rare icemoon flowers, life is restricted to the N’orr boomtowers and ice mines.
[0.0.0] Home (L1Z1X) 5 0 -
This elusive energy-rich planet was the desperate destination of the secret Lazax diaspora. Now, it is a technological nightmare.
Druaa Home (Naalu) 3 1 -
Despite its oversized poles, one of the most beautiful of planets. Its flowered steppes, violet mountains, and glowing forests are famous across the galaxy.
Maaluuk Home (Naalu) 0 2 -
Mostly pungent marshland and mudplains. Original world of the Naalu race, which now enslaves the winged Miashan to work its great iron-extraction plants.
Moll Primus Home (Mentak) 4 1 -
In places lush and rich, in others a barren wasteland. This old Lazax penal colony has prospered under the rule of the governing Mentak Coalition.
Retillion Home (Yssaril) 2 3 -
A mix of tundra, swamps, rivers, and dense forests. Home to the mysterious, chameleonic Yssaril, whose capital Wueca has eluded all attempts at cartography.
Shalloq Home (Yssaril) 1 2 -
Covered with tundra, wetlands, and rainforest, much like its sister-planet Retillion. Home to Mojeb, the only major Yssaril city catalogued by off-worlders.
Winnu Home (Winnu) 3 4 -
The shining cities of the Winnu are the last places where authentic Lazax art and culture are still revered.
Muaat Home (Muaat) 4 1 -
The fiery surface of Muaat is uninhabitable to most races. It is home to the Gashlai, and only here can they live outside of their cumbersome ember suits.
Darien Home (Yin) 4 4 -
Darien is the heart of the Brotherhood’s realm. Here, within the great Monastery of Lucas, rests the Yin, the holy egg from which all the Brotherhood were made.
Ragh Home (Saar) 2 1 -
The capital colony of the Saar and the epicenter of the Saar religion. Also called “Ragh’s Call” by the Saar.
Lisis II Home (Saar) 1 0 -
The crystal caverns of Lisis II are the source of most of the Jorun colonists’ water and foodstuffs. Notable for the great crescent-shaped valley of Gravar.
Creuss Home (Creuss) 4 2 []
Trapped between matter and void lies the realm of Creuss. Made of trapped light and radioactive gas, this realm hosts the most peculiar forms of life.
Nestphar Home (Arborec) 3 2 -
The fungal world of Nestphar is home to the symbiotic Arborec. Nestphar’s orbit is filled with Flaah spores that extend its Symphony.
Mordai II Home (Nekro) 4 0 -
Mined to its bones by the virulent Nekro, Mordai II is reinforced by graviton energy beams that barely keep the world from collapsing in on itself.
Elysium Home (Ul) 4 1 -
Larger than a thousand terrestrial planets, Elysium is an artificial shell-world built around the powerful singularity in its hollow heart. Its surface is covered in calm seas and cultivated plains.
Acheron Home (Vuil’raith) 4 0 -
Once a dusty, dead world concealing a portal to Ixth. Now, a gravity rift has shattered the world, creating a labyrinth of strange energies and tumbling shards of rock.
Planet Type Resources Influence Special
Arcturus & Sumerian
Centauri Home
Cultural (Nomad) 4
1 34 -
Arcturus is aworld
Venerable frostbitten
withworld known mostly
few resources butfor its hostile
a rich climate.
history. Site Equally hostile are
of important the smugglers
treaties between that operate
several a number
races during of the
secret bases on
Twilight the surface.
Wars.
Cold and still, with a surface buried beneath kilometers of ice. A few smuggler bases dot the surface, but Sumerian Station circles the planet, making it a vital trading destination.
Gral
The most profitable trade station in the Galaxy, Sumerian is run by renowned trader Huro M’es.
Industrial 1 1 Propulsion Specialty
Backwater planet with modest resources and an unassuming populace. Most noted for the reliable and affordable vehicles produced in its factories.
Ixth Home (Mahact) 3 5 -
Bereg Hazardous 3 1
A dry, dead world of black volcanic mountains and molten seas of lava. The great necropolis Aior Dol Gorgos on the Plateau Imperia is the only evidence of civilization.
-
A frozen world that is inhospitable to most races. Indentured laborers risk attacks from arctic sharaks in the infamous lodinium mines.
Ylir Home (Argent) 0 2 -
Lirta IV of the three planets in the Atharal Torus, Ylir is covered in kilometers
The smallest Hazardousof water. The Murmuration 2 3
meets in platform cities that drift with - the currents.
Covered in vast swamps and fetid bogs. Home to rare biochemical compounds unique to its marshlands used in everything from exotic foods to biogenic drugs.
Valk Home (Argent) 2 0 -
Arnor
Valk contains lodes of rare minerals and metals within its crust. Skyhooks bring Industrial
ore shipments up from the2 surface to the open-air 1 shipyards in orbit.-
Lush, green world that is renowned for some of the most fertile soil in the galaxy . Dominated by endless fields and the processing facilities of large agriculture firms.
Avar Home (Argent) 1 1 -
Lor
Lighter than its companion worlds, Avar is riddled with caverns. The majority of the Atharal TorusIndustrial
lives in the bustling aeries within,1 sheltered from the2radiation bursts emanating from- nearby Phorus.
Wreathed
The Dark in vast seas of methane ice. Seafloor drilling platforms harvest rare crystals
Home used
(Empyrean) in advanced computers
3 and energy
4 weapons. [Nebula]
Arinam
A massive nebula dominating the skies of many core worlds. Thick clouds of dust Industrial obscure its heart, a lightless refuge 1 where Empyrean 2 ships have congregated- for millennia.
Isolated
Naazir planet poor in resources but rich in natural beauty. Boasts many exotic Home resorts frequented by the2rich and famous1of the galaxy.
(Naaz-Roka) -
Meer
A small planet of high mountains and deep, narrow seas. Cities and vertical farmsHazardous burrow into cliff faces, while orbital 0 4
factories produce Warfaregoods.
high-tech consumer Specialty
Hellish
Rokha world immolated in the inferno of its nearby sun. Famed for the fiery majesty
Home of its
(Naaz-Roka) surface when viewed
1 from the safety
2 of its many orbital stations.
-
Abyz
Terraformed by comet-drops and Alliance biotech into a cool world with alpine forests and Hazardous
stormy seas. The city of Dormont 3 Vault boasts the 0 famous Exotic Energies Institute.
-
Wellon
Its thick, complex atmosphere is inhospitable to most races, but Abyz is known for its seemingly endless natural
Industrial 1 reserves of2rare mineralsInfrastructure
and precious Specialty
metals.
Friacities suspended in helium-rich atmosphere more noted for fantastic views
Sky than the small quantities of2 exotic elements0 harvested by their chemical
Hazardous - mines.
Vefut IIcold ice world populated only by a few scattered mining camps. Despite
Brutally brutal climate, highly prized
Hazardous 2 for its deposits 2 of rare ores used in starship
- drives.
Archon Vail world cursed with extreme gravity. Underground cities support
Massive, rocky advanced research in antigravity
Hazardous 1 technologies.
3 Propulsion Specialty
Thibah
A former Xxcha colony, its extremely low temperature creates exotic molecular compounds that give the world
Industrial 1 its famed violet
1 hue. Orbital facilities Specialty
Propulsion use the
compounds
Burdened byinoverpopulation
high-energy stardrive
and lowresearch.
mineral content in the planetary crust. Historically used as a staging world for deep-space exploration and trade.
Perimeter
Tar’mann Industrial 2
1 1 -
Biotech Specialty
Perimeter was the
Small, isolated lastwith
planet planet to remain
small loyaland
population to the
modestLazax. The respected
resources. and industrious
Most famous factionsavinberries.
for its delicious on Perimeter still await the Lazax’s return.
Former
Saudorgarrison world with fond memories of the Lazax. Maintains formidable military with informal ties 2to the Winnu. Perpendicular
Industrial 2 rings make orbital
-
navigation difficult.
Prosperous planet with large native population and substandard industry. Extreme axial tilt results in long day-night cycles that some races find uncomfortable.
Ang
Mehar Xull
Industrial
Hazardous
2
1
0
3
Warfare Specialty
Warfare Specialty
High rotational speed creates extremely energized magnetosphere. Orbital taps use this to energize starship fuels, and power labs developing new beam weapons .
Unstable radiation belts create hazardous living conditions but facilitate research in electro-quantum propulsion technologies.
Sem-Lore
Quann Cultural
Cultural
3
2
2
1
Infrastructure Specialty
[]
Home to the minor race of the Semanora. Though lush and prosperous, Sem-Lore has never been held long by a major power, and therefore is rumored to be cursed .
Since the discovery of the Alpha Wormhole, this temperate planet with two continents and one large ocean has been a haven for traders and smugglers alike.
Home to the Semanora, and heavily damaged in the Twilight Wars. Rusting warship hulks litter the rad-deserts, making it a war memorial and salvage site.
Lodor Cultural 3 1 []
Vorhal Cultural
Wealthy planet ruled by powerful biotech consortiums. Rumored to harbor hidden caches of outlawed bacterial weapons.
0 2 Biotech Specialty
This icy world is wreathed by powerful storms, forcing inhabitants to live underground in geothermal vents. Pacifistic locals award yearly “peace prizes” to
New Albionacross the galaxy.
peacemakers Industrial 1 1 Biotech Specialty
Rare atmospheric composition and biochemistry support lifeforms unlike any others in the galaxy.
Atlas Hazardous 3 1 -
Starpoint
Heavy grav world and former Sol colony famed for squat, strong inhabitants Hazardous and strategic location. Visitors 3 need support exoskeletons
1 to move on the - surface.
Large planet with eight small moons that supply a wide range of valuable resources. Acidic rains and toxic storms make it an unappealing destination for tourists.
Primor Cultural 2 1 The Atrament
Tequ’ran
Primor is a harbor for many hardened mercenaries whose only loyalty is to mammon. Hazardous 2 0 -
Desolate
Large planet transformed
temperate world. Site of into weapons
several testing
pitched facility
battles for large
during defenseWars
the Twilight consortiums.
due to valuable osmium deposits and a well-educated populous.
Torkan
[The Atrament] A clade of assassin-scholars has watched over Primor, pledged Cultural
to its populace’s survival. 0 3 -
Populous
Hope’s End planet almost completely dependent on foreign imports to sustain the extravagant
Hazardous lifestyles of its
3 citizens. 0 Imperial Arms Vault
Qucen’n
The famous training grounds of Elite Lazax troops. Only the strong survive here. Industrial 1 2 -
Buried
After the in Twilight
the IchalWars,
Nebula. The Lazax
existed used theastoxic
for centuries wildlife and
a near-utopia of fierce aurora
scattered storms to
communal trainfree
farms their troops.
from Even now,interference.
governmental volatile weapon caches remain hidden
beneath
Rarron its sands. Cultural 0 3 -
[Imperial Arms Vault]
Large, populous world Buried deepdistinctive
with three beneath the surface,
moons the lost
renowned forvaults contain a legion’s
its biomodification clinicsworth
andof weapons.
cyber boutiques.
Cormund
Mellon Hazardous
Cultural 2
0 02 [Gravity- Rift]
Over 400 years ago, Cormund’s sun blinked out, and its inhabitants were believed lost forever.
Poor in natural resources but rich in exotic plant and animal life. Protected as a planetary xenological garden and lifeform preserve.
A remote and sparsely settled Naaz-Rokha world destroyed during early entropic field tests. Now mining corporations harvest metals from the shattered core.
Zohbat Hazardous 3 1 -
Everra Cultural 3
Known for its highly intoxicating Zohlian whiskey and the planetary space elevator that links the surface with orbital stations and shipyards.
1 [Nebula]
Most believe the legendary planet of Everra to be nothing but myth. Stories tell of its nano-carbon cities made by the Ancients during the first years.
Lazar Industrial 1
Ancient world of red seas and bare rocks. Locals live in wondrous nano-carbon cities built by a mysterious ancient race, and mine nearby nebulae for rare gases.
0 Infrastructure Specialty
The only inhabited world in a forgettable system. Few native resources and only rudimentary, often underdeveloped, industries.
Accoen Industrial 2 3 -
Sakulag Hazardous 2
Populace lives on continent-sized fungal rafts that float atop a soupy, world-spanning ocean of useful bio-compounds. Popular research site for biologists.
1 -
Jungle planet plagued by dangerous predators such as the arboreal razeden. Home to many exotic biochemical and natural pharmaceuticals.
Jeol Ir Industrial 2 3 -
Dal Bootha
Heavily
Cultural 0
industrialized world. Pollution has killed all life outside of dome cities, but twin suns provide constant power for factories and huge population.
2 -
A populous planet whose resources have been severely depleted. Well-educated citizenry and many universities, but dependent on foreign imports.
Kraag Hazardous 2 1 -
Xxehan Cultural 1
A heavily irradiated world known only for its dust mines. Recently, a massive “tomb” of dormant Titans was discovered in the southern hemisphere.
1 -
Known for genetically complex native lifeforms adapted to tainted atmosphere and toxic biochemistry.
Siig Hazardous 0 2 -
Corneeq Cultural 1
World covered in frozen, cesium-laced oceans. Archives buried deep beneath the surface use the cold to preserve relics and operate massive computers.
2 -
Former garden world that has subsequently enjoyed increased industrialization. Home to the esteemed Free Worlds Academy of Military Science and Research.
Resculon Cultural 2 0 -
Poor in natural resources, but a nearby nexus of major trade routes has brought it increasing wealth as interstellar commerce has intensified.
Planet Type Resources Influence Special
Ba’kal Industrial 3 2 -
Dry, rocky deserts stretch from pole to pole. Shield cities protect against sandstorms while supplying nomadic harvester crawlers that mine the barrens for salt compounds.
Alio Prima Cultural 1 1 -
Wet planet covered in rivers, lakes, and small seas, but no oceans. Dry poles provide haven from constant floods. Numerous farms famous for luxury foodstuffs.
Lisis Industrial 2 2 -
Since the N’orr abandoned Lisis during the Twilight Wars, Lisis has remained neutral in all galactic affairs. A paradise of green growth and calm climates.
Primordial world with primitive native life. Potential for terraforming led to the infamous genocide of Saar settlements by Sardakk N’orr, and ongoing conflict
between them and Naalu forces.
Velnor Industrial 2 1 Warfare Specialty
Velnor’s famous demonglow crystals are the purest and most efficient fuel for delta-grade laser cannons.
Barren world of windswept rocks and thick, murky oceans. Lack of local lifeforms allows corporations to strip-mine the surface and test orbital kinetic weapons at
the poles.
Cealdri Cultural 0 2 Infrastructure Specialty
Small cities huddle on the shores of the single ocean and avoid the arid continental interiors. Mentak ships hunt departing vessels carrying bespoke cybernetics.
Xanhact Hazardous 0 1 -
Rebelled during the end of the Lazax Empire, and was bombarded to ash by a Lazax fleet as an example. Left by the Galactic Council as a memorial to Lazax
tyranny.
Vega Major Cultural 2 1 -
The surface of Vega Major is sparsely populated due to its hostile climate shifts, but its rings are home to many harvest stations that process valuable floating ore.
Most of the population resides in orbital habitats supporting mining operations in the planetary ring. Surface colonization limited due to oceanic macrosquid
infestations.
Vega Minor Cultural 1 2 Propulsion Specialty
Home of the Vega Propulsion Corporation. Although most of VPC’s technology is outdated, it’s rumored that they are about to unveil a revolutionary new product .
Famous for extremely shallow seas covering most of the surface and for the renowned Vega Propulsion Corporation. Stilt cities host vibrant multi-species
populations.
Abaddon Cultural 1 0 -
Known as the birthplace of fission cell disruptors, Abaddon is home to many brilliant, yet violently disturbed, scientists.
A temperate planet whose low gravity allows for stunningly tall mountain ranges. Serves as a stop-over for trade routes to the nearby Vorish Cluster.
Ashtroth Hazardous 2 0 -
The poisonous atmosphere of Ashtroth makes its surface completely uninhabitable, but enviro-insulated refining stations make a solid profit.
Covered in boggy landmasses and shallow seas. Algal blooms provide rich biomass for processed foods, but create smelly (and often toxic) offgassing.
Loki Cultural 1 2 -
A paradise oasis for many travelers, Loki would be a top vacation resort if not for its frequent, violent floods.
Cold and wracked with violent storms, Loki still hosts several Yssaril and Human colonies, some of which have engaged in escalating shadow-conflicts.
Rigel I Hazardous 0 1 -
Researchers on the solid polar caps of this largely uninhabited world investigate unique marine life that has remained undisturbed for a millennium.
Hot, innermost world of the Rigel system. Cities and native life cluster inland from the heavily alkaline oceans.
Rigel II Industrial 1 2 -
The second planet in the Rigel system is the population center for the entire sector. In its winding underground caverns lie legendary cities of luxury.
Temperate world with expansive oceans. Covered in estates and resorts for the system’s elite, with extensive fisheries that feed much of the rest of the system.
Rigel III Industrial 1 1 Biotech Specialty
Rigel III receives less sunlight than its two siblings. Its colonies are currently on the decline since the first discovery of syrophic gems a century ago.
Outermost world of the Rigel system, and extensively settled despite cooler temperatures. Boasts a diverse range of industries and research institutions.
Mallice Cultural 0 3 Exterrix Headquarters
There is no position for Mallice on any star chart, yet any traveler of wormholes will know how to reach the murky planet. A haven for idealists and rogues both.
Trapped in a space believed to be beyond our universe, a shimmering world of strange energies and disconcerting warping of physical laws sitting at the heart of a
strategically vital wormhole nexus.
[Exterrix Headquarters] Founded by black market traders that fled through a wormhole and ended up in the space between.
Mirage Cultural 1 2 Mirage Flight Academy
Famous for its cloaked cities, Mirage’s shielded bases keep its skies tightly defended.
Exists on no known charts and appears deserted to those who stumble across it. However, secretive locals live in cloaked cities heavily defended by swarms of
starfighters.
[Mirage Flight Academy] Unsurprisingly, the triple-ace instructors emphasize strike-and-fade tactics and misdirection.
Lesab Industrial 2 1 -
Once devoid of life, 72.5 percent of Lesab’s surface is now covered by a quasi-sentient fungus, the unexpected result of experiments in terraforming.
Garbozia Hazardous 2 1 -
The world of Garbozia used to serve as the Imperial dumping grounds. After years of festering, the organic compounds have recently become quite priceless.
El’Nath Hazardous 2 0 -
A magnetic phenomenon on El’Nath causes all metallic substances to float. Special technology was developed specifically to allow mining on the surface.
Capha Hazardous 3 0 -
While its surface is a wasteland due to centuries of invasions and war, Capha’s core still contains many of the riches that led to its ruin.
Bellatrix & Tsion Cultural 2 3 -
It is said that the terrifying Dreadnought was invented on the world of Bellatrix. Though no documents remain, its ancient weapons factories still flourish.
After the fall of the Lazax, Tsion became a new home for millions of refugees.
Planet Type Resources Influence Special
Faunus Industrial 1 3 Biotech Specialty
The famous laboratories on Faunus are run by the Maxis order. Although controversial, the order is the undisputed leader in the biogenetics field.
Tempesta Hazardous 1 1 Propulsion Specialty
Although virtually uninhabitable, new research indicates the frozen plasma above Tempesta’s atmosphere contains the most potent fuel ever discovered.
Industrex Industrial 2 0 Warfare Specialty
Industrex was once solely supported by the Lazax military complex. Devastated during the Twilight Years, it has since become self-sufficient.
Hercalor Industrial 1 0 -
Once a farming world, Hercalor has long since burned through its nitrates. Now mostly depopulated, it has become a haven for free traders and rogues.
Tiamat Cultural 1 2 Infrastructure Specialty
Tiamat is the largest population center in the Arill cluster. Its people are peaceful but surprisingly insular despite their planet’s central location.
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