Prologue 2: Zeteko

The lights came on in Zeteko's shop, and they slunk in.

Today was not any other day. The crisis had taken hold, and all that most could do was try to carry on and hope that the Vigil made some progress. Yet by the hour things grew more grim.

Although the station was buzzing as ever, with Vidkar as well as other visiting species pouring through its halls and perusing its shops and trying to distract themselves from the dawn ahead, there was an undeniable atmosphere that the empathetic Vidkar struggled with most of all. There was a kind of fear that many species had become accustomed to, beyond the Barrier, but one that was alien and horrific to the Vidkar and to most inside of Vigil Influenced Space—widespread existential dread.

That threat hung over their heads like a gleaming guillotine, expelled in the form of grim whispers and mutterings and kept from the young, they carried on about their day as best could be managed. After all, it wasn't like the Vidkar were a big target yet, were they? The Enclave had much worse things to deal with, and by the time the Vigil began sinking, they'd surely be brought along on any evacuation.

No one had yet entered Zeteko's shop, and so they spent a moment alone, gazing out the front windows and into the station's main area.

And something. . . strange befell them.

They felt vacant, for a moment, like the emotions had been carved out of them cleanly with a scalpel and vanished into thin air. They slunk up to the window, pressing a hand against it and staring blankly. Everyone else, at least all of the Vidkar, seemed to have come to a halt too, some clutching their heads as an emotional silence overtook them, the presence of their comrades suddenly empty and meaningless.

The Dawn came.

The Dawn commanded, blazing in their minds, its ardency undeniable, its call unrejected.

Within a minute, as quickly as it began, it ended.

The dust settled, the mental haze cleared, and the blood was still fresh and copious. All of the Vidkar staggered to a halt, clutching at themselves and often falling to the floor. As some succumbed to the wounds they had gained, others came to understand the ones they had dealt, and all came to understand a silence that was alien to them. When the blitz ended, when the commotion slowed, everyone suddenly felt very. . . alone.

Makeshift medics and actual medics scattered through the crowds in a valiant and quick attempt to undo much of the damage that had been done, but all of the Vidkar had become distracted by a preoccupying sense of loneliness. No more could they feel the movement, the ebb and flow of the Kinesionet, the comforting coalescence of friends and lovers—all of it was replaced by a deafening void, like one standing inside of a room entirely without sound, they could hear and feel every grotesque mechanism of their minds without distraction.

Zeteko couldn't feel her there anymore.

Minutes passed. There was no resumption of the Kinesionet, not even faint whispers of its presence, like it had been completely erased. The dazed Vidkar worked the best they could in light of this to tend to those injured in the battle, but mortal wounds had been dealt to many. The horror of the situation had hardly begun to set in, staved off by a sense of duty most had to care for their fellows.

But the Dawn would not tolerate attempts to resist.

A resounding crash struck the station, and again silence befell everyone as they looked up to the massive window above. A Bautazan dreadnought?

It held ominously, and slowly the Vidkar began to realize. Zeteko staggered away from the window as the realization set in, but it was far too late; a hail of railgun and autocannon fire blazed through the window above, sending searing glass through the plaza and shredding the inhabitants within. A flurry of pods descended, pouring out a whole menagerie of battle drones taken from various forces, including Argent ones, armed with heavy weaponry that blasted into the fleeing crowds.

Zeteko quickly fled from the shop, through some of the back-channels that were currently out of the way of the drones. The dazing loneliness was making thought difficult, but the advancing drones left no time to recuperate. Zeteko could hear them blast open the window to their shop as they fled, storming in and through the back door.

A spate of errant gunfire struck the wall beside them as they slipped down another corridor, and into one of the maintenance shafts. Metal footfalls passed by as they escaped into twisting and dimly lit halls, trying to work out a path to the escape pods.

Zeteko found themselves above, in one of the observatory decks; as they forced open the grate and slipped down, they were faced with a few other survivors who had holed up there.

"Hey, something's coming—oh, oh thank goodness." A Vidkari guard, poised with a stun baton, two civilians and a cloaked Lyxaris had barricaded the entrance to the small lounge area, overlooking much of the exterior of the station. The grim scene was unfolding clearly before them; a full Bautazan fleet, some of the most deadly ships in the Null's possession, had amassed around the station and was bombarding it from all sides.

"What—what are you doing in here?!" Zeteko nearly shouted. "You realize the station's coming down, right?!"

"Yes, we do," the cloaked Lyxaris spoke. "You think we can escape?"

"We have to try, don't we? What, do you plan to just sit here and die?"

"We escape a different way—look."

As they indicated, a battery of escape pods fired off into the void, aimed towards the planet below. Although they began to gain acceleration, they were quickly intercepted by a hail of swarm missiles from the Bautazan dreadnaught, tearing them apart and leaving only a couple of stragglers. . . with ill chances below. Warps are seen in the distance, and as Zeteko focused, they noticed hundreds, maybe millions, of ships descending onto the planet as well.

"We stay here. The Enclave will not bother to sweep this vessel once it falls apart. I can survive in space. So can you, if it comes to that."

A silence fell over the room, as Zeteko thought, and tried to ignore the threatening tremors rocking the station, or the klaxon blaring at them. They staggered over to one of the seats and slumped into it, staring distantly through the window, and through the attackers beyond. "What happens if this room gets hit, then?"

"We die." The cloaked figure shrugged.

". . . You three, do you have any idea what's going on with the kinesionet?"

"No idea. We're all in the dark here, I think. Only the Allseer knows, I'd imagine."

"Yeah, it'd be great if I could fucking make contact. . ." they huffed.

"WARNING: LIFE SUPPORT DISABLED," announced the intercom. "DAMAGE AFFECTING ENGINE BAY 1; 2; 3; 4; 5; 6; 7; 8; 9; 10. POWER SYSTEMS CRITICAL."

The room went dark, lit only by the end of the world just outside, as well as the still shining planet it overlooked, and the alarm quelled. The cloaked figure stayed camped out in front of the window, staring blankly through it, unmoving. The wait was horrible; each quake threatened to tear through the bay and eject them all into space.

The figure remained still, but the others took notice as a streak of fire arced slowly towards their position. Zeteko shot up; "Go! Go go go, we need to go!"

"NO," the cloaked figure issued forcefully. "Stay still. Cover your vital parts."

"Are you ins—"

. . .

The cold pull of space brought Zeteko to. The door had finally opened, and it opened into space. Massive, harsh cracks had dug into the reinforced window, which no longer overlooked the planet, but also showed no sign of the fleet. As Zeteko came to, and began to resist the pull, the cloaked voice at the door issued another command: "Go!"

Zeteko let go, and was pulled flailing into the depths of space. Debris filled their entire vision, massive chunks of metal, steel supports, flora from displays in the station, even corpses. The station was shredded apart, a shadow of its former glory, reduced to a field of space debris. Zeteko reached out, pulling themselves toward one of the steel supports, as the other three Vidkar, and the cloaked figure, joined them.

The cloaked figure motioned emphatically to one of the pieces of the ship, not too far, and still mostly in tact. Bouncing from debris to debris, kicking off or slinging themselves, Zeteko and the others brought themselves towards the fragment, weathering the overbearing cold of the void with freedom in reach.

As the two of them moved, they witnessed something warp into the debris field of the station. . . a looming Argent dreadnought, some 50 miles long. It looked old, and weathered, but the brilliant and admittedly entrancing shades of dawn rippled across its ornate and sharp geometric designs. A cannon made up much of its front-end weight, soon revealing itself as mechanical blocks shifted out of the way and presented a glowing, roiling barrel.

Just as the group touched down on the outside of the shattered bay, a ray of shifting light as wide as the dreadnought from which it came blared through the debris, vaporizing it as it passed into the planet below. A violent heat replaced the cold for a few seconds, nearly burning the exposed Vidkari before they slipped into what appeared to be an empty escape vehicle bay, still containing a single pod.

There was some air in the room, though it was seeping from one of the cracks running along its length.

"Augh! You. . . go, go, go. Get in. There is not enough room for me. I will find another way."

"What? No, come on, we can all fit inside—" one of the civilians began, being quickly cut off.

"No time for talk! Get in and GO! That dreadnought should pay you no mind, I am sure it has more important targets now!"

Hesitantly, the others clambered into the tiny dropship. Zeteko looked back at the stranger, for the first time seeing part of their face; two differently shaded eyes, one glowing blue, one glowing orange, beneath a heavy morphic helmet. As they locked eyes, the figure pushed back through the door, prying it open and slipping out into the void once more. Zeteko clambered in to the escape vessel with their compatriots, and the guard took the helm. It disengaged from the bay and pulled out, rocketing into the void and away from the gleaming dreadnought. The pilot held their breath, and so did the others, hoping that it would not notice them.

Through the window, Zeteko gazed down to the Vidkari homeworld. Swathes of its land were ablaze, and most certainly millions of ships had clogged its atmosphere, some miles in length and easily visible from above.