From Bad to Worse

Prologue: Five years ago...

You wouldn't have wanted to be anywhere near that sector on this day.

Across the great abyss of space an immense battle was lining up to take place. The Hob and the Erman, two races of people evolved on the same planet yet now in separate star systems, both intent on destroying the other, had now em-massed their forces and were lined up face to face, a mere light year separating the two enormous fleets.

The last 100 years had all been leading up to this moment: 100 years of preparation, 100 years of training, 100 years of strategizing, a 100 year old blood feud, and it was about to be decided today. The elders on both sides had agreed, one battle would decide it all and a hundred years would be set aside to prepare for it.

And neither side had wasted anytime.

With lifespans no longer than a human's, it took several generations to prepare. Each generation working more diligently than the last, working faster, working smarter, the entire population of each race focused on one goal: creating a fleet that would destroy an entire civilization. Children were taught how to engineer, trained in advanced tactics, schooled in Guerilla warfare. They were made into ship builders and weapons analysts and Engineers. The newest generations, unfortunate enough to be alive at this moment in time, were taught to be killers and were told at a very early age, 'This is the day you will die.' There were no scientists, no artists, no clergy, no doctors. There were only soldiers. Killers. Dead men. The damned.

The Hob people had em-assed a great fleet of ships, over 5,000 ships each manned by 50 crew, and the Erman mirrored those numbers. 10,400 ships, 520,000 lives, one moment.

None of the ships moved. No one spoke. The final minute had arrived. Many held their breath as they watched the clock tick down to the moment they had devoted their whole lives, their whole civilizations, their whole existence to.

00:05

00:04

00:03

00:02

00:01

00:00

Every crew on every ship became a flurry of movement. Commanders were yelling orders, crewmen were yelling at each other. Battle cries were being released on both sides. Then they moved.

One Hob ship rammed into warp 3, straight into the opposing fleet. She took out three Erman ships, A suicide mission, three seconds in.

The majority of the ships in the two fleets advanced more slowly, at a pace, two angry swarms floating toward one another. Then, the collision, the din, the destruction, it came swift and heavy. Phasers were firing in every direction, torpedoes launched at whatever they could hit. Soon it was nearly impossible to tell who was your ally and who was your enemy through the fire destruction and death.

And the battle continued...

Metal, fire, plasma, bodies, all mixing together to form a great cloud of death in the middle of space. Ships were exploding like fireballs in every direction as their assasins moved on to the next victim. No prisoners would be taken.

And the battle continued...

Thirty minutes in and 2,600 ships were destroyed, over 130,000 lives lost.

And the battle continued...

Those ships that were severly damaged tried to retreat back to safe territory only to be destroyed by the enemy for their trouble. Desperate men and woman flung themselves into escape pods only to be picked off by the enemy, or their allies, or deadly debris hurtling at tremendous speeds.

And the battle continued...

One hour, five hours, twelve hours, a full day. Numbers were dwindling. The action slowed. It was supposed to have happened quickly, a tremendous clash and a victor soon declared. This was supposed to be their moment of honor and glory. It wasn't.

The battle continued and continued and continued...

-OZ