Prologue:
"Delivery of Seed Unit 2321/Alpha-14 proceeding on schedule. Analysis of target world indicates minimal native resistance to Ichor Seeding, and pacification efforts are a non-requirement." The Mothership AI's report was one of numerous reports that Foreman 117 had been receiving since the target for Ichor Seeding, a world in the Frontier considered to have significant resource presence, was scouted remotely. And as was always the case with such a world, the process for Seeding, followed by the long wait before Reclamation while the Ichor matured and evolved, was going to be another boring but satisfying wait.
With any luck, there wouldn't even be a need to awaken the Traveler and Reaper cults that had predictably attached themselves to 117's seeding/mining operation with the hopes of engaging any surviving natives, combat against natives and especially hardy natives was always messy.
"Seed Unit has struck target meteroid." The Mothership reported, "Orbit has shifted. Impact will occur upon fleet arrival at stasis point."
'And there it is.' Foreman 117 thought,
'Another job well done. More Ichor for the Ichor Hub, and all without a fight if the remote scouts have provided sufficient and suitable data about their tech progression.'
While it was possible that some forgotten corner of the world the meteroid was approaching would have more advanced tech, and perhaps there was, Foreman 117 was largely unperturbed since the Ichor would present either an irresistible trap or equally tempting prize that the natives would spread and try to take advantage of, and likely become mutated and warped by the Ichor's touch. 117 had a feeling that the Reaper and Traveler with him would likely be investigating any and all new lifeforms that resulted from contact with the Ichor in its raw form, but hopefully the planet would result in sufficient material profit to keep his Supervisor happy with the investiture of purified Ichor being used for the seeding.
The mining fleet and attendant security and support vessels had been in transit to a suitable hibernation location in orbit over the system's third planet for a number of long-count time units according to the Mothership's systems, but even so Foreman 117 considered himself lucky to have made such good time to the system since the Supervisor wasn't currently berating him for the time taken to arrive as 117 gave the order for the fleet to enter a hibernation orbit and prepared to speak with the Supervisor, "Foreman 117 reporting that Seeding is now commencing and fleet has arrived to enter hibernation orbit."
The holographic image of the Supervisor appeared before 117 instantly, "Message received Foreman 117, your arrival is logged as being marginally ahead of schedule. Commendable, but not impressive. Estimated local timeframe for full conversion and likely Ichor-LQ detonation?"
117 quickly checked several calculations before answering, "Estimating some twenty to thirty local years before Ichor concentration reaches critical mass, at which point all local sentients and wildlife will be pacified by conversion or eliminated by means of radiation exposure and atmopheric contamination." 117 went over several other datapoints as he continued, "Of note during remote scouting is the presence of individuals able to manipulate unknown quantum energies; Reaper-216 and Traveler-187 have both expressed a wish to investigate and combat such entities for study and personal entertainment before their hibernation."
"Denied." The Supervisor stated, "Engaging with the locals using operational security forces is an unnecessary Ichor expenditure; it is a luxury that cannot be afforded, thusly you are to keep the Reaper and Traveler cultists in stasis until further notice." An image of the world, particularly of a large continent with two smaller continents, appeared, "This location will be suitable for initial seeding and remote observation using automated systems. Once critical mass is reached on this continent, you may initiate secondary seedings at the same time as the initiation of harvesting and processing. It is unlikely that with atmospheric contamination and Ion storms that any pacification will be required if your remote scout data is correct."
"All data was put through multiple redundancy and error checks," 117 replied, "There will be no meaningful resistance even if security forces are authorized. At most, security forces will be put to use defending against hostile wildlife."
"Satisfactory." The Supervisor replied, "Ensure that things go smoothly, and there may be further opportunities for advancement." The Supervisor's image shifted, "I do not have to inform you of the consequences for failure should you be unable to not only ensure proper harvesting operations, but have also failed to take into account sudden technological shifts."
"No, Supervisor." Foreman 117 replied, "I fully understand what has to be accomplished and this operation will progress on schedule." As 117 finished, the Supervisor ended communications as the Mothership AI spoke up.
"The Supervisor is displaying paranoid behavior. Monitoring of future communications recommended."
117 ignored suggestion, "Mothership, prepare the fleet for hibernation and maintain remote monitoring of the planet."
"Order confirmed," The Mothership responded, "Circumstances for emergency awakening?"
Foreman 117 considered the question, before stating simply, "If the natives find a way to destroy Ichor." It was a good, solid criterion when one thought about it since it covered a single, possible, situation that far outweighed the seriousness of other scenarios. Because if the natives could destroy Ichor without leaving a trace of it, then that meant that the seeding could be slowed or stopped.
And Foreman 117 had no intention of failing at seeding a world when the natives were clearly primitive and often involved in internecine warfare at a level that was laughable in all threat assessments against the Anti-Infantry Bladeswarms that were the benchmark for the tests. Leather and steel armor, steel blades, and rare individuals capable of manipulating novel forms of energy fields, all fell before the most basic combat unit, thus largely negating the need for any worry in regards to pacification.
Watching the rapidly-shrinking meteroid as it continued towards the target world on a precisely calculated path that would have it landing on a north-eastern continental spar of the large continent chosen as the initial seeding site, Foreman 117 felt a strange feeling of foreboding, as though when they woke next either for harvesting or security operations, nothing was going to be simple or easy in the slightest.
Ignoring it as a meaningless neuro-physical reaction to the impending hibernation cycles, Foreman 117 began the appropriate procedures to hand off all observational and decision-making authority to the Mothership since the emergency criterion had now been set. Seeing no other pressing tasks, Foreman 117 decided to enact a personal decision, "Mothership, please also ensure that all non-critical communications from the Overseer are properly dealt with."
"Understood Foreman. Beginning hibernation cycles of all resource gathering and security form-systems now. Initiating Foreman hibernation sequence."
Foreman 117 hoped that annoying tendency to dream didn't happen again this time as he felt himself begin to enter the hibernation shutdown state and everything went black.
******
It was a clear night with a full moon glowing brightly in the sky as the legions of The Empire readied themselves for the campaign ahead; the need for slaves to work the mines, the fields, the forges, all of the industries of war and commerce, continued to be the deciding and voracious appetite of the Empire, but it was another appetite that had generals ordering officers who in turn ordered Imperial Legionnaires, Demi-human vassal and slave-soldiers, and mercenaries from other, nominally-allied, kingdoms to march.
Tonight would be the night that the Empire invaded the unexplored grassland territory of the so-called 'Warrior Bunnies', the rabbit-like demi-humans said to be cannibals and unbeatable in a one-on-one fight, and above all famed for their universal beauty. The stories of their beauty had spread like wildfire among the troops, and rewards were promised once these scattered tribes were brought low by the Empire's might.
"Remember! These creatures are nothing in the face of the spears of the Empire!" A Centurion shouted as he inspected the line atop his horse, "Alone they may be invincible, but that only means that facing a united front, these barbarians will only meet a bitter end while you brave men will surely be granted the highest honors for your heroism!" A cheer rang out as the Centurion smiled broadly in the light of the torches, horn calls signalling the beginning of the march before a cry rang out in the back of the ranks that was quickly and rapidly echoed.
"The sky! Look at the sky!"
All eyes who heard the cries turned their gaze skywards, and a wave of shocked curses and other calls rippled across the Imperial war camp. The Centurion was one of those staring with wide eyes at the event taking place; on that moonlit night the sky was lightening as though dawn was arriving, but it was not the sun rising.
Instead, a star was falling, glowing with a blinding green radiance as it streaked across the sky, so large that it seemed as though the fireball was only just over their heads as it streaked across the sky, leaving a sickly-green trail that shimmered and glowed in the still night air, no-one willing to say a word in case it was some kind of magical trick, a ruse sent forth by barbarian witches.
Finally, the Centurion wet his dry lips and shouted, "Enough gawking! Reform your ranks and-" The sky turned from the depths of midnight to a dawn as green as jade and emerald, soldiers covering their eyes from the blinding radiance coming from the north-east, a sound like thunder and avalanches rumbling into their ears and their feet vibrated with the shaking earth before the light faded and the night quickly returned to reclaim the sky that had been stolen by the jade and emerald light.
Silence reigned for several long moments, only broken by handlers trying to calm frightened pack animals, or the whispered and muttered prayers to the Gods while those who clutched weapons tried to stop their hands from shaking, or else collapsed to the ground as their nerves and legs gave out, quickly followed by other soldiers as well as the panicked vassals, slaves and disturbed mercenaries.
Seeing that there was no way for the army to be motivated to move, the Centurion sighed and thanked the Gods that his horse was too stubborn to panic in the face of strange events and rode off to give his report to the Generals about the state of his assigned forces.
Across the Empire and indeed across the continent of Falmart, people prayed or hid as the falling star tore across the sky, bathing everywhere it went in a blinding green radiance. The glowing trails left behind would persist for hours and when the morning came some would find glittering green crystals lying on the ground or in the fields, while some were swept away by river currents to sea.
But while the Empire and those other kingdoms who saw the falling star recovered from what many came to accept as a shocking celestial event, one kingdom far to the north-east did not fare so well.
What others saw as a false dawn in the middle of the night, was in fact the funeral pyre of this kingdom. The moment the Ichor-laden rock hit the targeted impact site, coincidentally right on top of the palace in the center of that kingdom's capital city, it spelled the end as Ichor underwent fusion and detonated, spraying shards as large as houses, carts and men across the land and into the sea, a thick plume of glittering crystal spreading on high-altitude air currents to spread a glowing shroud over the kingdom and its southern neighbors.
Those who survived would be forever scarred by the massive radiation pulse, while those who saw the shroud covering their skies had no idea of the enormity of the impending apocalypse that had been cast at them by alien intelligences who regarded their existences on the same level as insects, if they even acknowledged their existence at all, in their eternal pursuit for the lifeblood of their species.
On the night that was supposed to be the start of the Empire's invasion and conquest of the Warrior Bunny tribes, the Emerald Star instead delayed the invasion by three months as priests and oracles were consulted on the portent of this event. In the underworld, a goddess noted the sudden deaths and the source, "Tch, this will be annoying."
It was the Imperial Calendar Year 684, and those who would survive the events to come, those would learn about the coming of the Emerald Star and the forces it heralded, they would call it the beginning of The Eschaton.
