Setting

If this message reaches beyond the Veil, it should be known that eight years ago today war erupted between the powers of the Garden - a conflict which has brought the once great civilizations of Scatter and her territories into ruin. The great emptiness of space which was once the empire of our interstellar dreams is now a barrier of vacuum and radiation. It is with a heavy heart that I chronicle this broadcast for those in the stars beyond that soon, these prosperous nations and peoples may no longer be able to reach our brethren in the Home galaxy beyond the Charybdis Veil.
The Interstellar Nations and the Supremacy have turned our magnificent Garden into a battlefield, unleashing their war-machines in the hopes of crushing one another beneath the steel boot of states and militaries that have risen to challenge even the governments they are sworn to. As of this broadcast, every major population and economic sector of the Garden has become the colosseum of generals and admirals vying not to restore peace to our fractured homes, but build a new seat of power from the ashes after they have scorched our lands and boiled our seas.
For all their once thought unassailable authority, our governments have fallen one by one. Our leaders, deafened from cannon-fire, no longer hear their peoples. Our heroes, wrenched from their pedestals and forced to clash amongst the titans of our war machines and weapons of destruction no longer embolden our peopleâs hopes and dreams.
Our villains, now unbreakable in their strength and empowered at the failures of our lords, run rampant across the Garden in the quest to remake our homeland of mankind in their image. As of the time of this broadcast, they are winning.
And as of the time it is received beyond the Veil, they have won. Or at the least, our last ramparts are falling as the galaxy turns beyond. For those in the stars beyond, this is the last voice of our civilization. For those trapped beyond the Veil, you are the remnant of our kind, whether you be Garden-born, or Terran, or another breed of life from across the universes.
You are all thatâs left of Scatterâs light.
A slow, dull humming cascaded throughout the inky darkness of the relay chamber while the last audio of the broadcast drew to a close. Stilhneerâs Ascension March, a solemn, quiet piece of a piano and violin died out while flickering lights materialized into a circle of uniformed figures. All surrounding a central node spewing forth a holograph of the galaxy, one of them reached a finger out to a glimmering icon and tapped it once.
âWhat ⊠exactly does this mean?â A womanâs voice inquired, sharpened yet cool as she drew her hand back down to the great coat stretched across thin shoulders. The figure across from her, a swarthy man draped in a peacoat, answered bluntly.
âIt means weâre on our own. Stuck across the Veil. Marooned.â He almost spat, drawing a gloved hand to his mouth to hide a quiet curse. âTheyâve left us in the lurch, chasing ghosts all around the Deep Stars, while theyâre choking to death on toxic atmospheres or burning up in renegaded stars.â
âWe donât know that.â Another voice chimed in, this one pressing a hand down against his starched uniform, a naval insignia pinned against his chest while he craned his chin towards the eight other officers standing before him. âWe donât know whether they completed Guarding Night and initiated Striking Dawn - â
The man in the peacoat let out a short chortle, looking to the naval officer. âIf the Dawn had come we wouldnât be hearing this. Are you listening to yourself? We knew this was coming when the Tenth Front reached Karelia. What we need to understand is that the Veil is sealed now, and thatâs a good thing.â
A fourth man spoke up, adjusting the brim of the helmet draped across his head. He seemed to be sitting at a desk, legs bent and feet propped against a board of furniture. âA good thing? Are you serious? That was our way back home, now weâre stuck on the other side with god-knows what managed to slip through before we put the Cordons in place. Youâre saying thatâs a good thing?â
The other officer stiffened, adjusting one of the breasts of his peacoat to settle it on his broad shoulders. âWhatâs happened in the Garden has happened, it was not our mission to fight that war. Weâve succeeded in preventing the worst from trickling through the Veil and -
âSucceeded?! Weâve barely scratched the surface of it! Have you been groundside to the Shore Planets? Iâve lost whole colonies to Rogues - landers full of civilians butchered and eaten, picked apart like they were thrown into the jaws of a, a - Christ, I donât even know how to describe it. And now, weâre stuck outside the walls!â The man at the desk suddenly rose himself up, practically knocking it away. Suddenly, another figure across the chamber spoke up.
âThe Colonel is right, Commander.â The form spoke, an officerâs cap pulled tight across the brow as a white-gloved hand rose up to silence the dissent. âWe can not derail the operation, contingencies were in place for losing contact with ISAAC and the Garden.â The stern words appeared to defuse the quarreling officerâs ⊠for now, at least. As the figure lowered that hand though, a visible tension returned to the officerâs faces.
âThat being said, it is clear the parameters of our mission have become broader than the scope of our abilities. We may need to discuss the option of altering our protocols.â The figure informed, while a few cautious glances were exchanged amongst the officers. The woman spoke again, turning to the obscured figure across from her.
âWhat do you mean, âaltering the protocolsâ ⊠weâve operated with strict instructions to stay away from other organizations and keep access to the Shore Planets as limited as possi - â
âI mean exactly what I said.â
Those short words drew wide eyes, and perhaps a gasp or two. The man in the peacoat clutched at the hem of his clothing, while his meaty face turned into a scowl. âYou want to bring outsiders into this? I donât believe that is a sound plan, Colonel.â He reported shortly, turning his head away. The figure didnât seem to stall however, instead raising another hand as the command flowed.
âWe have only so much time before our force concentration in the Shore Planets is overwhelmed ⊠and there are still forces across the Local Region - the Apparatus stay-behind - that we must assume command of before approaching other states about this. There was a garrison force on Terra, the 666th, a static division. Part of the Shadow Authority. We will need them. And I need all of you to prepare yourselves.â The officers gave a cautious glance amongst one another, as if the ante of a game had just been raised drastically, while the figure gave a slow, parting word that would seep through the emptiness of space with the end of that mysterious broadcast.