//------------------------------// // Zero Hour // Story: [Forlorn Ascension]|[Rites of Dominion] // by Desrium //------------------------------// Elsewhere across the vastness of space, the grief stricken Shu’badi was locked away in her quarters. The lights were dimmed down, meaning the only illumination that entered the room were rays of a faraway star, filtered through the metallic vents that covered her window. The silvery light ran across the white walls, broken only by the Shu’badi’s shadow. She was sitting up on her bed tucked into the corner of the small room, a sleep pod that had its cover raised up. She was resting upon the deep purple cushiony interior, not hovering around as one would normally find her kind doing in their suits. The claws of her Arcane-Manipulators were cupped together in front of her face, an orb of soft blue light manifested in between them. Next to the bed was a boxy container that had a table top on it and on the opposite side of the room was an L-shaped work station. The work station was slightly angled downwards from the wall it was mounted on, having several buttons on in arranged into various groups across it. Along with the buttons were a great number of monitors and holo-imaging systems. Normally, when she was in her quarters, Uolix would have been diligently looking over the instrumentation panel, keeping tabs on the various projects and happenings going on across the sprawling space complex. It would have been no different from what she did normally in the observation chamber, except in her quarters she had the privilege of privacy and personal amenities. She had one of her last conversations with Tsubar in this very room. The mechanic had been working tirelessly on the Tzorvar Prime project during the prior weeks. Uolix’s mind was filled with still images as she sat in her room, mental photographs. In them she was at the bottom floor level of the ship bay, looking up at the giant taking form in its cage. Tsubar was with her in them, at the very edges of her vision. He was also looking up at it, one of his Arcane-Manipulators curving around with a holographic data sheet being displayed from a split in the limb’s plating. The memories cycled, always starting with the unit in its barest form. It was nothing more than a metal skeleton back in those times, with veins formed by various cables and wires crisscrossing throughout its proto-body. The memories always ended with the finished mech, locked up in its restraints, enclosed by the holding cage. Tsubar always made an effort to keep himself in check and levelheaded, but Uolix knew that inside, he was ecstatic about what the completion of Tzorvar Prime would mean for the rest of the galaxy. The unit was a prototype bridging into the next generation of Harmony fighting machines. Mechs were created before it with the knowledge gleaned from the Hoof-Talon technology, but they were outfitted with relatively conventional weaponry. Missiles, directed magical energy and things along those lines. Tzorvar Prime was supposed to be the next big leap in the galaxy’s capabilities. It was supposed to be a machine capable of using magic itself as a weapon. A machine that could call upon the latent energy interwoven with the fabric of reality itself and unleash it for the sole purpose of safeguarding the peace ushered forth from the destruction of the Hoof-Talons. It was meant to be a god made from metal; a construct given a soul by all those who worked to create its frame and armor. A Star Terror by any other name, designed with the intention to kill others of its kind. Even the best laid plans often go astray, but no one could have predicted what a terrible turn of events awaited them. Tsubar had his eyes set on a war to prevent all other wars that had yet to happen. Uolix had her eyes set on maintaining the order that the Harmony brought while repairing the strained relationship it had with the sovereign powers. But all she had now were the fragments of what could have been a bright age. That age was now drowning in an all too familiar darkness. In the orb of light, her memories played out in front of her. They were of a time that was not better than the present. Even so, it was a time of… happiness. Things were grim but there was happiness to be found. The Desolus was the ark of her happiness, back then. In that orb, Uolix saw her friends, alive and well. There was no sound, but the hologram invoked all of her senses. She saw Romaz hovering down the hall, one of her metal limbs held up in greeting to her. Suddenly, the hologram’s point of view whipped around to where the freighter’s captain had gotten to. Uolix could almost hear that crash again; almost feel the same surprise as she did when that happened. Romaz was underneath Tsubar, Tsubar was in a tangled heap on top of her and spilled across the passage way were all manner of scrap parts and components that the mechanic was taking back to his wing of the ship. Romaz’s Arcane-Manipulators flailed wildly in the recording. ”Would you get off of me!?” ”I’d love to,” Uolix remembered Tsubar replying, “but we seem to have our arms locked and you throwing them around ISN’T MAKING ANYTHING BETTER!” ”Friends, please, Gaali appeared from around the corner, drawn by the sound of conflict. ”Why must you let your passion escalate so?” ”Who’s letting their passion do anything!?” Tsubar retorted. “I’m not the one waving my limbs around like some Y’bunta trying to attract a mate!” Romaz’s Arcane-Manipulators wrapped around the mechanic. ”You’ve got some nerve, talking to your captain like that! The projection turned away from the bickering duo and the pleading peacemaker to the Shu’badi that had been silent that whole time. Javic peeked past Uolix to look at the scene then looked back at her. The image started to shake then, as Uolix recalled her laughter. ”You and I get along fine, don’t we? You’d think by now they would cut the angry couple act and just get together, huh?” Javic cocked her head and remained silent for a moment. ”Sh-shouldn’t we uh… clean up the mess?” Abruptly, the orb fizzled away. Uolix moved her claws apart and gripped her head. She couldn’t keep this up. Just as she remembered the good times she had with the others on the Desolus, she recalled the bad. She remembered the trips to the fringe worlds grand and decrepit. The worst memories were the ones where the ship landed on a world in a contested zone; the whole planet would be bombed out, the settlements nothing short of bunkers underground in citadels guarded by huge surface guns. The surrounding area around the walls were blackened and charred, but as long as those walls remained and those guns kept firing, the world wasn’t completely dead. As long as transport ships continued delivering desperately needed supplies, the refugees wouldn’t fall. They would continue to fight because those skeletons in their broken armor covered in dust just beyond the dwindling borders compelled them to. Uolix had her realization then. “In time, there will be nowhere to hide.” Uolix raised herself off of her bed, first with her Manipulator arms, then with her hovering ability. “The only thing we can do now is fight… even though the chances of victory are slim…” Her voice started to crack, fresh tears started to pool up behind her visor. She started making her way to her workstation. “We need to fight, because there are others out there right now who are fighting… fighting as they always have and always will.” She reached the panel, saying, “Because cowardice will doom us all!” Skillfully, her claws passed over the terminal’s panel. Commands were given in synchronous. The many screens lit up, lines of information running across them. The lights in the commander’s quarters brightened until the silver lines on the walls disappeared. “Harmony operatives,” Uolix’s voice echoed across the G.S.O, “after much consideration as to our next course of action, I have come to the decision that we need to rally our forces. We cannot continue to lie in wait while the situation worsens elsewhere!” “What are your orders?” an analyst manned at the super projector asked. ”I’ve ruined the galaxy’s greatest defense force ever assembled,” she thought. ”Why don’t you doubt me? Why don’t you question me?” “… Send an encrypted transmission to the other outposts and strongholds. We are sending a call for help as much as we are crying out for war. What remains of our ranks need to be prepared for this gamble.” “It will be done,” said another analyst. The next few hours were paramount in organizing the galactic resistance. The data stream was broadcasted into space with the Harmony code strengthened to ensure there would be no leak of information. No intercepting forces were to know what was yet to come. It was slow work getting the word out. The first receiving Peace Corp stronghold had to decrypt the message, analyze it and then encrypt it again in order to pass it on to the next receiving body. Such was the scale of this undertaking that it became the priority communication between the Harmony remnants. The super projector went blank for this time, for the first time since its creation. Like a well-oiled machine, the Harmony occupations passed the message amongst their selves, and then sent their acknowledgments to the G.S.O. Hours had passed by time every single capable stronghold had gotten the call of duty and returned their acceptance. But what brilliance is born out of adversity, for a countdown was part of the transmission. Each time it was received, it was reset and calibrated so that by the time it reached the end of this long chain of communication, it reached zero. And so, came Zero Hour. All across the galaxy, the relocated bases began broadcasting as one. Their message was simple. “Together we stand. Divided we fall. All capable Harmony forces assemble.” *** Alikir was almost asleep on his feet. He was holding onto the projector unit to support himself, his head dipping down on his shoulders. His eyes were closed when the chiming over the ship’s comms went off. His eyes flew open and he shot back to attention. Elysia was gone and the bridge had a flurry of activity going on. Alikir looked at the star map and saw that several points of light had appeared all across the galaxy. Origins of Harmony signals, some of them were being sent out from places bases where bases were never established! “Oh you clever bastards!” Alikir said to himself. “Captain Ruchov, we have confirmation that Commander Uolix has issued the order for a decisive stand. She expects immediate hostile reaction to this,” one of the communication officers said to the intricately armored Ghanax. “We should report to the closest stronghold to this system.” The Ghanax sat up in its seat, hitting its gauntlets against the armrests and chuckling. “Good! Good! I was beginning to get rusty!” it said, revealing itself to be a male with an especially scratchy voice, evident of old age. “Where is the closest Harmony stronghold, then!?” Alikir was quick to refer to the map, reading the display. The answer to the captain’s question came at his great surprise. “The… the Galactic Situation Observatory; six parsecs away,” he replied. “Isn’t that where the Commander is stationed?” “Ah, fate,” the captain said, humored. “Life is the greatest comedy ever devised by minds mortal or divine! Now get your behinds in gear! We have work to do!” All throughout the convoy, scrambling crews returned to their ships. Spell-cores were being primed for interstellar warp, weapons were being primed, and shields were being charged. Phineas stared at this star map through narrowed eyes. He rallied this ragtag group, intending to turn them into a fighting force all their own in order to strike back at the deathless tide. Now the call to battle was sent out throughout the galaxy? Every scattered force was going to come together as one and make their stand? Was finding allies going to be that easy? “Something isn’t right here…” the stallion said to himself warily. The image of the Iopteryx flashed before his eyes then. It was there when he was reawakened. He feared this was another one of its plans coming to a head. It infuriated him, thinking that any fortune in this depressing future could be the sign of evil’s strings being tugged ever so gently to bring about an end. But he couldn’t just dismiss this. No –it was impossible for him to dismiss it. ”Even if this is just part of some plan, I’ll make sure it’ll work out for the better. I stopped that hybrid bastard from carrying out their plans, and I’ll stop the undead from doing the same!”