The Galactic War rages on. So far, much blood had been spilled, and the death toll is rising by the millions every battle. Normal people would find it amazing how these men and women are willing to throw their lives away in chaotic battle. Strategies don't work. The style known as "mosh pit battle," where ships and starfighters engage each other as close range, weaving in and out amongst thousands of different starships and fighters, blasting away at the first enemy to come into view, has made tactical procedures worthless, giving way to a realistically barbaric form of deep space combat.

Meanwhile, the United Alliance and its allies continue to bleed. They have been outnumbered since the start of the war, and constantly beaten back by the Imperial Coalition, surviving only on the energy of the few battles they have won...


Colony 307 of the Palle Galactic Principality

("Here they come.")

("Are the ports all free?")

("Yes, Sir, and ready to take on wounded. All civilian traffic has been diverted, and the doctors are standing by.")



Outer space became warped and twisted. All over the map, hundreds of hyperspace tubes broke into the fabric of space/time. They each poured out one single, solitary mass, dumping them all into normal space and time. They're job soon done, the hyperspace tubes abruptly closed. In their wake lay hundreds of heavy objects, all bearing markings of pain and stress, fire and ash. Many had trouble with re-entry, swerving and veering to try and maintain a steady course. A few couples smashed into each other by accident, shearing off bits and pieces of themselves. Others had more success. Even further, one of the larger objects was torn apart as it re-entered normal space, the intenseness of the drop-out being too much for its weak structure. A few of the smaller, more fragile craft were also ripped apart. The scene was pathetic, but helpless.


Alarms chorused all throughout the command disc, accompanied by blaring red klaxons.

("What is wrong?")

("Core overload, Sir. On the starship at zero-point-five-six-four-dash-zero-nine, Degree d-three. All that stress it looks like.)" (" Nova in three seconds.")

("Tell them to get back! Escorts too!")


But the incoming fleet had already started doing that. Though severely damaged, the ships rocketed as far away as they could from the doomed one. Sad though it was, it was the only thing that could be done to save the most amount of lives.


The large, destined starship sputtered sparks and tiny puffs of fire from its engines. The space around it was abandoned, ready for the upcoming catastrophe–

And then it happened. Before anyone could blink, the core nova-ed, imploding the starship at its hind point. The implosion took the engines and fuel banks with it–the entire aft section disappeared, vaporized. A shimmering singularity of pure energy sat where the engines had been, pulsing against the stars. All around, space began to bend and twist, curving and spiraling towards the singularity. It had in it a power near to that of a black hole, sucking and pulling in anything within its reach. The space/time continuum itself began to strain and break; punctures and tears in its fabric, resembling lightning, littered the area around the singularity. Debris poured out of the tears in time, immediately being drawn in by the singularity's immense gravitational pull. All around, the fleet that had gathered was now trying desperately to get as far away as they could. Their engines sputtered out fire, hulls creaking from the force of the gravity. On board them, the crew's stomachs all lurched and pitched, unbalancing the chemicals in their bodies. Most had started vomiting by now, their ship-wide systems in utter chaos.


("The singularity by now. It feels like the emis...sions are speeding up. I wish I could give you an...exact prediction...but–")

("It is all right, Commander; I know...") ("All hand's brace for Re-alignment.")


The whole world around the fleets and base shook furiously. Metal strains of the aft-less starship bent and snapped off their structure, flying straight into the waiting singularity's maw. Like an animal, it grabbed and grabbed, pulling in not only debris, but small craft as well, their panicked pilots helpless against such a terrible force. The "black hole" continuing to destabilize, breaching space/time even more. The stars swirled, and the lone moon lurched and swaggered in its spot as if the mass itself was drunk. The singularity was massing and biding energy, growing a bigger and more powerful and more deadly bomb than anything ever seen–

The explosion happened faster than it's creator implosion, flashing out with all the energy it had bided and stored. The sound of it was higher than could be heard by sentient ears, a tone so high as to drive dogs wild. As the singularity vanished, it released its power inside a gigantic shockwave. That shockwave slaughtered the rest of it's host before anyone could have snapped their fingers, the crew having been doomed to die from the start. It charged through space, relentless and hungry. However, most of the starships and small craft had managed put a great distance between the doomed ship and themselves, and the wave was only a grave threat for about five seconds time. Most escaped unharmed, though some who were close enough to be hit were lost forever in spaces dark, haunted, endless dungeon.


The wave lost its danger quickly, passing over the base with little more than a slight shudder. Conditions returned to normal aboard, but the resulting effect of such a drastic change was still felt..

("Is everyone alright?")



("Are they all right?")


("Commander? Are they all right.")

("Ghi is turning brown.") ("His heart is not beating.") ("Low blood velocity.")

("Medical to Operations?")

("We need you Doctor; get up here!")

("Yes, Sir. How many are injured?")


("Okay, I'm coming. Medical out.")

("Leader, Commander Ser is dead. His heartbeat is gone.")

("Tell Doctor Pav.")

("Yes, Sir.")

("Commander Rud is dead too. Heartbeat is gone.")

("Lieutenant Rso is dead too, Sir.")

("Tell Doctor Pav.")

(Yes, Sir–")

("–Yes, Sir")

Multiple footsteps clanged on the deck in chaos. Men and one woman recited death codes and chants, blessing their dead fellow officers. Amidst all this came a frustrated grunt.

("Damn!") ("I'm going to the Port: communications are down. Tell Pav in case he needs me.")

("Yes, Sir.")

("Keep concentrated on your job as an officer. It's okay to feel saddened for your comrades, but don't forget the needs of your duty. Okay?")

("Yes, Leader.")

("I'm proud to have you as my Commander, Mr. Fx.")

("I'm proud to have you as my Sir, Leader.")

One man's boots clanged more on the deck. They started and stopped a select number of times, before the sound disappeared with a zap.