"The image we received indicates the appearance of unstable wormholes after the Blackout. We don't know their exact nature, but we believe they may be related. The wormholes began appearing about a month ago. A month later, their stability increased to three minutes. According to our projections, by 833 A.S., the wormholes will be able to persist for about an hour. This window will be sufficient for us to send the first probes, and then a human.
Commanders, you have an important mission. Each of you has received orders regarding what must be done over the coming years. You are charged with training personnel, who must not be aware of the upcoming mission. You must create the finest expeditionary units the Order has ever seen.
The 31th, 32nd and 33rd Squadrons will be the first to depart for uncharted space after the probes. Adam, the 34th Brigade will be the only ones who must penetrate as deeply as possible. We are limited in our resources, but you will have everything you need to carry out the mission successfully. If the Order turns a blind eye to what's happening now, we will face far more catastrophic consequences than the Colony Wars.
I take responsibility for the success of these missions. The future of both the Order and all of humanity depends on us all. The stakes are higher than ever, and we must succeed."
CINCINNATUS SECOND VOID DIVISION
The names of heroes are not eternal. Those forgotten will sink into obscurity. But those who managed to rise from the ashes will shine forever.
At the beginning of the Colony Wars, the Order had three major units at its disposal, serving as its backbone throughout all operations. From the abduction of Osiris until the battle for the Dyson Sphere, the Three Void Squadrons stood as humanity's bulwark against the Nomad threat.
In 805 A.S., these Squadrons evolved into Cinncinatus Void Divisions. Each reflected the Order's agenda in its own way: spies, schemers, and scouts; scientists, pioneers, and talented engineers; and ordinary soldiers, ready to shed any amount of blood for humanity's victory against the alien threat. Their true names, referring to the "Old Order," are long forgotten among the fledgling minds of the organization's new recruits. And those veterans who have survived to this day can be counted on the fingers of one hand.
The Cinncinatus Void Divisions ceased to exist long ago. Their mention is a touch of something greater. A touch of what the Order was and should always have been. Their story of disintegration symbolized the beginning of a struggle within the Order itself. It was Orillion's final gift to humanity on the eve of its oblivion. A gift that placed a kind of "curse" on the Order. As if the war with the Nomads wasn't enough.
Archival records from those years are virtually impossible to find. And the metal tokens denoting a specific Division are so rusted that even the most skilled restorer won't recognize their original owner.
But the Cinncinatus Second Void Division is an exception. Something ancient and powerful faded into the shadows when the Order embarked on a path of internal political struggle. And with the fall of Toledo, practically nothing remained of them. But they continued to exist. And only by 830 A.S. were they able to regain what could, at a stretch, be called their "former glory."
Three Colonels. Three ideas. Three courses.
Derik Hobelson. The Harbinger. The Prophet. The one who foretold that the war with the Nomads would never end. That there would be more wars. And that the Order would become lost in its own beliefs. He gave his life for Toledo, bringing great sorrow to the Division. And his people, ready to stand with him to the very end, hated anyone who even tried to associate themselves with the Nomads.
Thus the Division became united from within. Thus he became loyal to the Order until his last breath.
Drake Williams. The Reviver. The Savior. The one who managed to restore to the Division much of what was lost after the Fall of Toledo. The one who managed to pass on the traditions of the old generations into the hands of new people. The living legend of the Division managed to revive the unit and give it a chance at life. And with that chance at life, he gave them hope.
Hope that everything can still be changed. Hope that they're on the right path.
William Scott. Dreamer. Pioneer. Rebel.
He's where it all started.
In 826 A.S., William assumed the position of Division commander. Bidding farewell to his men, Drake confidently declared that his successor had embodied everything that was so dear to the Division, the Order, and humanity.
The veterans who had witnessed Derek's rise were skeptical. He commanded no respect. Those who had begun their careers in the Division with William wondered if he would fail them now. William had earned the trust of the old school. He didn't bribe his peers with promises. He took action.
The voice of the Division was increasingly heard among the Order's Higher ranks. Something ancient and forgotten began to surface more and more frequently. The idea of a new course, in which the Order would surpass its enemies in world knowledge and technological mastery, was becoming increasingly louder. But mere words were not enough. Projects and plans weren't enough to prove William's words:
"We have to take risks."
The Order must not sit in the dark and wait for miracles. The Order must not look back to the past, constraining itself with boundaries and limitations, justifying it with the events of past years. The Order must not fear the unknown. It must step into it. And even if people die - that's the price of the future. So be it.
When the Blackout happened, William began advocating for the creation of research units. Cinncinatus Second Void Division made every effort to prove to everyone: in two years, the wormholes in Pi would be functional long enough to accommodate a person. And not just one. But an entire Brigade. Three Squadrons would go there before them, exploring the area. It was all interconnected. And William knew it. When the 33rd Squadron returned home with news of the Daam-K'Vosh structures on the outermost system of their Expedition, William realized the 34th Brigade had to go even further.
And in 833 A.S., they set out there. For a whole year, William waited for news. The others, too, were waiting for the same news. Those who believed in him. The division melted away and replaced its losses, trying to ignore the questions they were being asked. Minutes stretched into days. Days into months. And months into eternity.
And when the Brigade returned in 834 A.S... William realized it had not been in vain. He had done everything to ensure the Brigade's return to service. He had ensured that the labors of past generations would not be lost. Every death was meant to be the foundation for change.
Not horror. Not a nightmare. But a portent. Whatever met the Brigade in the Abyss saw them as a threat. It was trying to destroy the Brigade. When the first suspicions arose, when the first rumors began to emerge, when everything began to come together, William understood.
The risk was worth it. Something left over from the Ancient Empire saw humanity as a worthy threat. William heard the call. And the Division answered.
The Daam-K'Vosh will not return. And the Nomads only seek an opportunity to harm humanity, but even after the Fall of Zeta, their efforts seem pitiful. Sirius belongs to humanity and nothing else. And when the last threat is destroyed, humanity will move on.
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