The beginning of a new life

[ROCK CORPORATION]

We have been on this planet for far too long. Toledo is a scorched battlefield between the Order and the Nomads. The captured cruiser reached orbit already doomed. The radar showed no emptiness—every sector was crowded with signatures: capital ships, cruisers, strike craft of the Nomads. And more were arriving.

Our only option was to destroy the engine. We detonated the reactor and forced the ship into uncontrolled descent, driving it toward a crash landing. Moments before atmospheric entry, we launched an emergency probe—our final message to humanity. We knew we would not survive. But the enemy fleet could not remain unknown.

Days passed. Or an eternity—time fractures here. We were fortunate: part of the group managed to evacuate the hull before their landing. The mine we left behind functioned perfectly. Within several kilometers, sand fused into glass. We moved across cooling plains of black rock and ash, searching for old stations or anything that might offer a chance to endure.

Toward evening, orbit ignited. Massive flashes tore across the sky, and soon debris began to fall—dozens, hundreds of fragments. They burned through the atmosphere and rained down like metal fire. Fate favored us again; the main “fallout” passed at a distance. Among the wreckage, silhouettes were visible—human ships tangled with those of the Nomads.

Then, with a deep metallic roar, a corvette of the Order emerged from the dust haze. It descended hard and precise. Androids deployed first, followed by infantry, sealing the perimeter with disciplined efficiency. And then I saw the Analyst, stepping down the ramp in a light cloak, composed as if this were not the edge of annihilation.



We are saved.

But there is no time. The human fleet is losing the battle. Ships concealed within the asteroid belts struck the Confederation’s rear, yet it is not enough. We must withdraw. Regroup. Deliver what we have learned to our home worlds. The war is only beginning.