“The greatest happiness is to scatter your enemy, to drive him before you, to see his cities reduced to ashes, to see those who love him shrouded in tears, and to gather into your bosom his wives and daughters.”
- Genghis Khan, founder of the Mongol Empire
- Genghis Khan, founder of the Mongol Empire
Space. The final frontier. The last place where man has yet to launch war upon his neighbour due in part to fear of the unknown, and hatred of the different. But how long shall the stars remain free of mankind's ruthless warmongering? A hundred years, two hundred? Five hundred, a thousand, ten thousand, a million? How long before we crusade not against our earthly neighbour, but the inhabitants of our nearby stars, in the name of religion, ideology or other difference?
How long?
How long?
Tyranno-Sinosian Space
10 Light Years from the Wargling border
It was cold, dark, and empty. Space streched for many thousand times the Earth's diameter across the distance seperating the two nearest stars. Nothing traversed this impossible distance. Nothing could. Or so said physics. But what does Mother Nature know? Shrouded in darkness, totally invisible, was a tiny little speck of existence. On a universal scale, it was insignificant. Just another little ship of the prowl along the borders of the Milky Way's greatest empire of zealots.
The TSS Black Widow was an ordinary Carcharodon-class Tyrannian warbird, one of many that made up the Tyranno-Sinosian Imperial spacefleet. The Empire itself was a hegemonic empire, with two major governments coexisting under the watchful eye of their mysterious gods; the High Council of Tyrannus and the Seer Council of Sinos. To the rest of the universe, the Empire was just another little imperial power that thought it ruled the galaxy. This was not the case for those unfortunate enough to be the Empire's neighbours. Fired by their religious duties, they had exterminated entire species for failing to convert and be assimilated.
The Black Widow's commander, Commander Coruncanius Annalis, was no more devout than the ordinary Tyrannian, no more skilled than an average captain. He watched with indifference as the bane of his life, Inquisitor Arrius Aquila, preached to his bridge crew about the heathens that lay just beyond the Empire's boundaries; a new state that had arisen while the Empire was consumed with internal matters, and ignoring the rise of the smaller interstellar empires that now surrounded it.
"They call themselves the Warglings, and they are highly hostile to the True Path. They are dedicated to their false nature spirit, whom they call Ceridwen. They are blasphemers who must be converted or exterminated at all costs." Annalis could tell that Aquila was a younger and less experienced Inquisitor. He didn't evoke the same sort of subtle dread that the more experienced and powerful Inquisitors did. Still, Aquila did have the power to have the entire ship destroyed, so Annalis wasn't going to voice any such foolish observations. The Inquisition delighted in punishing big-mouthed young officers for their arrogance.
"Missionaries have been dispatched to the planet to convert those who will listen to the Truth. But there are always those who's heart is so blackened by decadence and false worship, that they cannot see the light. We must be prepared to exterminate this horde of barbarians! Who is with me?"
This evoked a half-hearted chorus of "I am!" from the assembled bridge crew. Aquila looked as if he was about to explode, but instead he said, "then onwards to victory, for the Eternals and the Empire!"
More half-hearted cheers. Annalis rolled his eyes. This would be a looong assignment.
Helgoland, Homeworld of the Warglings
Most of the Tyranno-Sinosian priesthood were Sinosian, as it was well known that the Sinosians held a special status with the Eternals, the Empire's gods. However, missionaries were the exception; Sinosians were few in number and generally not well greeted in less developed worlds, being massive floating psychic reptilian creatures. So the religious delegation sent to the Warglings were all Tyrannian, led by the somewhat unpopular Rutilius Curio, and currently preaching to a baffled and somewhat curious crowd. It is unlikely any of them actually intended to convert.
"Heathens, I tell you the Truth! The Truth of the Universe, the Truth of your existence! I tell you of the Eternals, the Great High Ones, the Beings of Light who watch us from far above! They speak to us, They say, 'you must bring order to disorder', and we must obey! They created us, They can destroy us. We have wandered from the Truth and They want us to return to it! The Holy Scriptures claim that the heretic who abandons faith is thrice cursed, and the heathen who seeks repentence is thrice blessed! You must throw yourselves before the Light, and seek the forgiveness of the Otherworld. Let not death and destruction phase you, for he who is of faith shall rise from the darkness and be immortal!"
The missionaries had decided to hold their rally in the sacred grove of Ceridwen, which no doubt riled the priests to no end. So far, the only attendees to the rally had been vaguely interested Warglings, but as devout followers began to turn up to pray, only to discover that the sacred ground was being used by missionaries from an alien religion, the crowd began to turn ugly. Caught up in his passionate preach, Curio was struck by what seemed a good idea at the time.
"Behold!" he announced, drawing a small match and striking it against a nearby rock, "the sacred trees of Ceridwen die at the hands of the faithful! For the Empire!"
He dropped the match into the bushes, and the fire began to spread. Shocked onlookers watched as the sacred grove went up in flames; even the other missionaries began to feel uneasy. Suddenly, the angry crowd surged forward. Several of the priests were grabbed and thrown into the fire, screaming their pleas for mercy. Others tried desperately to escape, but were blocked by the angry Warglings. Curio himself was pushed into a flaming tree, impaled on a branch; he died screaming, burning and bleeding, an appropriate end for a very unpleasant man. The crowd savagely murdered all eighteen missionaries. They were watched by a mysterious figure in a purple robe, its face obscured.
As the last missionary was thrown into the flames, the robed figure turned to reveal the face of a young Tyrannian man. He grasped the lasgun in his pocket, but did not draw it. Instead, he quietly turned and left the scence. Dropped on the floor behind him was a small silver button, carrying on it the fasces-gripping eagle of the long exterminated Romulus dynasty. On it was engraved the words, ORDO ROMVLANVS IMPERIOSVS.
The Imperial Romulan Order.
