Chapter One

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In a distant region of the cosmos, at the edge of human-occupied space, four craft dropped out of hyperspace in a brilliant, blinding burst of light. Traveling in a tight, diamond-shaped formation, the spaceships were all identical and undeniably alien in design. The vessels streaked through the void with almost purposeful determination, their destination plainly obvious: a gargantuan, circular ring made up of matching, metallic spheres.

The occupants of the ships were the Parsnaak — huge, reptilian creatures whom nature had seen fit to bless with fierce dispositions and the unrelenting desire to slay and conquer all that they encountered. The bodies of most of them bore the scars of battle — some from their enemies, but often from one another — a testament to the savage nature of their race.

The bridge of the lead spaceship was occupied by several Parsnaak, most of whom were standing at their duty stations. (Sitting on duty made one lazy and inattentive. It was a habit to be embraced by lesser, weaker species — not the Parsnaak.) Standing at the commander's terminal was General Bota, a cagey, ill-tempered veteran of numerous campaigns. His large frame brandished more marred flesh than any of his fellow Parsnaak, including a missing piece of tail and an eye that had been replaced by a cybernetic implant. Even unblemished, however, he would have cut an imposing figure.

"Helmsman," Bota said in a gruff, authoritarian voice. "Status."

"Approaching the Chronos Ring," came the swift reply.

General Bota turned his attention to the viewscreen, which currently showed a line of large metal orbs ahead of them, stretching out as far as the eye could see to either side. The general knew that those spheres comprised an unimaginably colossal halo around the region of space inhabited by humans. They formed the Chronos Ring.

Bota absentmindedly growled. The Chronos Ring was the bane of his people's existence. It was all that kept them from enslaving the entire human race. They had conquered far more formidable enemies throughout their history, so the fact that homo sapiens had thus far been able to escape subjugation to Parsnaak rule was an injustice that rankled.

"Bring us to a halt," the general said, displeasure evident in his tone.

The lead ship quickly came to a halt, as did the other three in their convoy. The general drummed his fingers in agitation, his claws audibly clicking on the command terminal, then looked towards his first officer.

"Lieutenant Xarn," Bota said.

The lieutenant, who had been staring at the viewscreen, pivoted immediately towards his commanding officer.

"Sir?" Xarn said.

"Any sign of our 'allies'?" the general asked, uttering the last word as though it sullied him just to say it. (And perhaps it did. The Parsnaak were rumored to consider alliances as a sign of weakness.)

Xarn nodded at a young Parsnaak standing at a monitoring station.

"Ensign, report," Xarn ordered.

"Scans reveal nothing," the ensign replied. "No other ships of known origin in range."

"Navigation," Xarn said, turning to another member of the bridge crew, "are we at the proper coordinates?"

The response was almost immediate. "We are in exact position."

"How long until our rendezvous?" the general asked. Xarn gave a response that was roughly the equivalent of three minutes. Not a great length of time by any stretch of the imagination, but General Bota was not known for his patience. He grunted irritably, but said nothing.

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⏰ Last updated: Jun 01, 2016 ⏰

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