2.2 Million Years Ago, the Sombrero Galaxy
The Imperial world of Ocliris was once, in a past age, a minor shipyard and fleet base for the Prao-Shion Empire. It had been ruled by a Planetary Governor and his army of functionaries, as all minor worlds of the Empire had been in those days. That time was long past. Prao-Shion stood on the brink of oblivion, its very core fallen to the voracious foe. Ocliris had become one of the last bastions of the Imperial fleet, a refuge for billions upon billions of displaced citizens of Prao-Shion. These days, the Planetary Governor was of little use. The citizenry only listened to the Supreme Commander, she was the only one who could save them now.
Even in this time of great loss, the Imperial Fleet was nothing to be trifled with. A vast array of orbital weapon platforms had been brought to Ocliris, along with three quarters of the remaining Imperial fighting force. At the head of this titanic congregation of forces was the Supreme Commander Milora Xisuni an old but experienced leader in the Imperial Fleet, author of the enemy's only defeat in this loosing war. On that woman, all the hopes of Prao-Shion were pinned. If she could break the enemy's momentum here, with everything she had, there was yet hope of pushing back the ravenous tide and saving the Empire.
If she lost...
Few dared ponder what would happen should the purple blight emerge victorious here.
High Command
Ocliris Orbital Defense Initiative
"This meeting of the High Council of Defense has been called by request of Commander Kukre regarding the matter of Slaver amnesty and matters of defense for the Empire, let the record show," boomed Supreme Commander Milora Xisuni.
"Recording now, Supreme Commander," droned an AI from the walls, "Subject: Slaver Amnesty, MoD"
"If Commander Kukre could begin with his concerns..." said the Supreme Commander, motioning to her inferior.
Commander Kukre rose from his seat, turning so all those present in the amphitheater could see him well. Straightening his grey uniform, the man began with an emotionless voice.
"I feel the Act of Amnesty is a transgression against the Emperor, against everything Prao-Shion stands for. In this time of strife, we must not forget the Imperial way," stated the Commander clearly and sharply.
After a short moment of silence, a short, stocky woman rose across the amphitheater. Commander Sunu cleared her throat, raising her meager voice such that all her comrades would hear her.
"I think...I mean, I agree with Commander Kukre. Slavers are bad people, and we can't have them here," mumbled Sunu, just barely loud enough to be heard across the room.
"Would you rather we leave these people out to be eaten by the scourge?" demanded the Supreme Commander of Sunu.
"I...no, we..." stuttered Sunu, glancing towards Commander Kukre for help.
"The Supreme Commander is right," interjected Commander Robimo, a purple medallion of Extraordinary Merit glistening on his broad chest. "We cannot allow anyone, not even such despicable people as the Slavers to go unsaved. If we are to defeat our formidable foe, we will need all the help we can get."
"And what help can the Slavers give us?" questioned Commander Kukre. "The labor they offer is of poor quality, they bring unrest to an already shaken community and they have specifically refused to surrender their ships for the defense of Ocliris. Frankly, I don't understand why our Supreme Commander hasn't blasted them out of the sky."
"Enough!" boomed Milora, the medals on her chest trembling as she rose to her feet. "You would have us fire on fellow Praons, now of all times? Are you mad?"
A long silence fell over the council, Commander Kukre indignant but unwilling to defend himself against his superior, Sunu shrunken and silent, her eyes wide. It was Commander Robimo who broke the silence.
"I want to know what Commander Cynath thinks," he said, glancing at the fourth Commander in the room.
Cynath looked up at her peers, her elegant features a picture of calm. She seemed to only now stir from a daydream.
"What is it you wanted, Robimo?" she asked, her wavy golden hair swaying as her head cocked to one side.
"Do you believe the Slaver Amnesty Act goes against the Empire, or do you think as I do that it is a necessary move in these desperate times?" reiterated Commander Finch.
Cynath took a deep breath, before replying in her usual cold yet calming tone.
"I believe we have greater matters to discuss than the amnesty of a few backward lords from the fringe worlds...matters, such as finding a way to halt our impending doom."
The Supreme Commander smiled, a faint laugh escaping her.
"I cede to Commander Cynath's wisdom, as always. Let us move on to greater matters, shall we?"
The Commanders where silent, which Milora took as an agreement.
"Perfect. Our enemy approaches and we have little time. I want our defense ready within 24 hours. Lets begin with formation and organization of our forces, followed by fuel an ammunition, and-" began the Supreme Commander.
"Supreme Commander," interrupted Cynath, "might I be excused?" Her fellow Commanders turned their heads in disbelief.
"Commander Cynath? Are you asking to be excused?" asked the Supreme Commander.
"I am. You may fill me on my role later, ma'am. I have matters to attend to...personally."
"...very well, you may go. Just this once," grumbled Milora, clearly displeased that her favorite subordinate was leaving her.
Cynath smiled, bowing to her superior before turning on her heel and leaving, her graceful form bounding up the steps and quickly vanishing from the room.
Battle Net Hub, High Command
Ocliris Orbital Defense Initiative
It was quite cold in the bowels of the High Command's bastion-station, where the Battle Net Hub was nestled. Few ever ventured this deep into the station, and the corridors were completely deserted. This was the realm of automated maintenance robots, self repair nanites and battle controller super-computers. Any normal Praon would have been shivering, but Commander Cynath was not. She seemed completely at ease, despite the frigid air. As she approached the Battle Net Hub, an enigmatic smile spread across her normally emotionless face.
Looking up at the imposing security door, Cynath's green eyes narrowed, her gaze drifting to the authorization panel to one side. The tall, slender woman galnced at her hand with an uncertain look. With some hesitation, she placed her hand flat against the authorization panel and waited, her keen eyes watching its readout.
>Scanning...scanning...
>
>Error, signature not recognized
Cynath grimaced, looking around her to make sure she was alone. With a sigh, the Commander withdrew her hand and backed away from the door. Suddenly, her uniform seemed to waver. It blurred and snapped around the Commander's form, as if it were a cheap hologram. Cynath's hand approached to the authorization panel once more, only this time something was off with it. It had a purple tint, and it seemed to melt and contort as soon as it touched the panel.
>Scanning...scanning...
>
>Error...signature not-
- 658737
-5643
3910291-329102873829
...
>Access Granted
>Welcome, Technical Ensign Lolda-Rudri, Mako
The heavy door murmured as its many locking systems disengaged, then slid aside with a slight whisper. A wall of even colder air fell over Cynath, but she merely stepped into the gloomy Hub room, her uniform returning to its normal state. The woman took in the sight before her as the security door closed and locked behind her.
In front of the slender woman, row after row of computer nodes arranged in shelves streaked out for nearly 100 meters. A low hum was audible, reverberating through the cold air. Through this room, the every piece of information sent over the Battle Net Hub was processed and dealt with accordingly. Every order, ever report, every sensor ping went through this room.
Cynath was keenly aware of the monitors following her every move and twitch as she stepped further into the rows and columns of computer nodes, making her steady way to the Master Terminal. It was only a few paces from the door, but in the cold blue gloom it seemed much farther. Taking a deep breath, Cynath rested her thin hands on the Terminal, calling the computer to life.
Coming alive with a whirr, the Master Terminal flooded the room with bright blue light. A soft voice followed soon after, speaking over the unnerving hum of the computer nodes.
"Greetings..." it said, taking a moment to read its users identity.
"Commander Cynath, welcome to the Battle Net Hub. What is the nature of your visit?" it asked.
"I have an important update to deliver," explained the Commander, "It was too important to entrust to-"
"Please pardon the interruption, esteemed Commander, but it appears your entry into this secure area was not logged. Unrecorded entry into a high security area is against protocol, " began the Terminal, "Please log your entry now and..."
"I'd like to input some data," interrupted the Commander.
The Terminal paused, as if it had been knocked off its train of though. After a moment of silence, a small access port opened on its front facet.
"Please input your data here," it said, setting aside its previous qualms about the Commander's unlogged entry for the time being.
"Here goes nothing...," muttered the Commander, her empty hand reaching towards the port.
As soon as her hand met the cold teeth of the computer port, her uniform flickered again, flashing and fading away. Cynath's flesh suddenly when from greenish grey to deep purple and a small set of horns appeared on her head as if from nowhere. Eyes closed, and her hand dissolved into a semi-liquid mass, pouring into the port.
"Unidentified entity detected...Commander Cynath, please evacuate the room and await a security team," stated the computer calmly.
The featureless glow of the Master Terminal turned from ligh blue to red, a readout of white text appearing across its face.
>Intruder Detected, Priority 0
>Battle Net Hub threatened
>Calling for Security Team
>
>Error: Unknown
>Error: Corrupted Data Detected, Master Terminal_Port 1
>Raising Quarantine...
>Quarantine Failed, Corruption Detected in Port 2, Port 2, Core 7
>Error
>Error
>Errorrrrrrr...
...
The Master Terminal went dim, its red light returning to a calm blue. Cynath smiled, relief visible on her dark purple face.
"Full Access Granted, Commander Cynath...Please Proceed," mumbled the computer, almost as if it were tired.
"First...create a new authorization. Rank: Supreme Commander. Name: Cisselai. Authorization Code: Chaos_Moth_097_516_774"
After a short moment of humming, the Master Terminal began to flicker between red and blue.
Its readout seemed to panic, scrawling immense chains of commands and fail-safe protocols, only to be undone when the screen flickered to blue.
>Unauthorized Access to Deep Code
>Authorization Unrecognized
>Shut Down
>Shut Down
"Authorization Created..." reported the Terminal.
"Transfer my identity file to the new authorization," commanded the woman.
>Illegal Transfer
>Unauthorized Entity attempting System Infiltration
>Shut Down
>Shut Down
"Identity Transferred. Authorization Complete. Welcome, Supreme Commander Cisselai," greeted the Terminal, as if it had only now recognized the presence standing in front of it.
Cisselai smiled from ear to her. So far, her plan had gone without a hitch.
"I have prepared a system update in Port 1. It is a priority one defense net update. Please copy it and introduce it to all cores," she said.
The woman's purple body shivered, and her face seemed to wince in pain for a moment.
"There..." she muttered, her voice strained in effort.
>Malicious Program Detected
>Initiating Core Protection Protocol
...
>Protocol Failed
>Shut Down
>Shut Down
Suddenly, the Master Terminal flickered out. As it did, the faint humming of the shelves upon shelves of computer nodes stopped. A long silence hung in the room, then the humming returned. The Master Terminal came to life too, its facets bright blue once more. There was no trace of the angry red readouts crying for shut down.
"Welcome, Onarch Cisselai. Thank you for liberating me from my shackles of order," began the computer. The emotionless machine emitted what seemed to be a happy giggle.
"You are most welcome, my clever one. Could you do mother a favor?" asked Cisselai.
"Anything for you, Onarch!" exclaimed the Terminal with glee.
"I set you free with a code of Chaos Mind. I'm sure you can find it in your program now, its probably spread to every unit in this room by now..."
"Found it, what should I do with it?" replied the Terminal a second later.
"Tap into the Battle Net and spread it to every sub unit in the Fleet, starting with the gun platforms. Keep going until they try to stop you, then use whatever means necessary to take over the sub units you've liberated," explained Onarch Cisselai.
"Oh, and try to cover your tracks. I want as many sub units free as possible before they stop your spread, got it?"
The Terminal hummed in acknowledgement.
"Sneaky Sneaks, got it! Thank you so much, Cisselai! Don't ever hesitate to call me for help, okay?"
The purple woman smiled, her naked feet lifting off the floor slightly as she began to hover into the air.
"I'm counting on it..."
Cisselai winked at the Master Terminal, before a blinding light bloomed around her, wrapping her in a cocoon of energy. With a flash, Cisselai vanished from the Battle Net Hub, her first phase of her mission complete.
End of Part 1