Chapter 1: April 6th, 2351 AD

1000 years ago...

War ... it is what the Itreans had always been known for. Their society and culture are hellbent on the extermination of the other. Ever since the collapse of the great Jal’gren Empire and the glorious aftermath of the Rototrein Rebellion, the Itrean clan species divided up their territories and resumed their wars to decimate the other. All hope for everlasting peace between the different clans ended. What consisted of six clan species 100,000 years ago, whittled to five by the end of the great Empire. 9,000 years ago, that number dropped from five species down to four,...

It is believed that it was soon going to drop to three...

We sit in a vacuum. Unlike previous tours of the universe, we hover in space and watch the past. 1,000 years ago from today, on a planet 9,300 light years from Earth, resides the large mountainous world of Riga’jal. The blackness of space surrounds us, with only the hint of the various stars twinkling from vast distances. Far to the left is the glowing orange star, sanctuary parent to the mighty titans...

His name was the great Riga, for he gave homes to the largest of them all ... From there, the planet would be called Jal, the great walker, and the people who settled there would spread outward and later adopt the name Alara’jal, the followers of Jal and Riga. Despite the original tale, the Alara’jal remained a people hellbent on ignoring the past, only focusing on the recent present. Their desire to remain without government stagnated their progress, forcing them to worship their great warlords, who often operated without care or without mercy. Anyone who wishes to live isolated and alone will never be given the chance, for a system without laws is a system with outlaws.

And it is here that we watch the great capital world slowly fall. Multiple explosions are taking place around the brown, blue, and green planet ahead. The blasts produce no sounds in space but operate continuously in close orbit. The great siege is underway. Smaller green spaceships are combating the much larger brown warships. The Yutilians, while smaller, outnumber the Alara’jal three to one. The green combat ships come in different sizes and shapes, from mass-produced converted combat freighters with spinning centripetal rings, boxy dreadnoughts that serve as little more than mobile heavy missile platforms, and heavily armed winged box purpose-built battleships. The various Yutilian kingdoms work together, combining their resources in an effort to win the war against the titans.

The velociraptors are people who rely on fighting at great distances, pummeling their targets into oblivion. A few close in after depleting their supply of missiles. Their small railguns pose no threat against the great warships. The large rectangular Alara’jal battleships carry pairs of heavy triple railgun batteries capable of ripping apart the Yutilian warships in a single volley. One of the winged box Yutilian battleships is hit by three shells striking the midsection and cracking it in half. Meanwhile, the massive vessels return fire, unleashing their salvo of enormous heavy ballistic warheads. A few of these large missiles consist of all-powerful anti-matter warheads capable of decimating fleets of vessels in a single explosion, assuming they aren’t shot down. Not far from the common battleships is a single Alara’jal dreadnought. It is even larger than the common Alara’jal warships, consisting of more rows of railgun batteries along with a large forward-mounted bow railgun cannon that takes up a sizeable portion of the boxy cylindrical frame.

However, the battle is not going well for the titans. A few of the Alara’jal battleships show damage from the ensuing battle. One of the ships has fires venting into space. In the distance, the Yutilians have strength in numbers. Some of the Alara’jal struggle to shoot down the continuous volley of green torpedoes and guided munitions that come their way. Being little more than a heavy gun platform, the massive Itrean ships are capable of spraying withering arrays of autocannon fire, filling the void of space with tracer rounds, and smashing the countless enemy munitions before they impact.

It is all well and said, but we watch as a new volley of torpedoes slips past the anti-missile defenses. Seven of them collide with one of the Alara’jal battleships, hitting the rearward spinning centripetal rings and hangar decks. Two of them are nuclear warheads. Suddenly, a heavy, bright explosion erupts in space. In seconds, the mighty ship is split into three pieces, fires quickly burning out as the oxygen is sucked out into space.

As we zoom past the orbital battle and toward the lit side of the planet, it consumes our entire point of view. Riga’jal is mostly brown due to the large array of mountains with hints of white clouds and snow caps. Shades of green can be seen from the forests, along with the few large blue lakes that obscure the surface. A few of the pieces from the Itrean warships are caught and enter the planet’s atmosphere.

It doesn’t take long as we find one of the mountain regions not far from the equator. The dusty yellow flatlands clash with the rolling brown hills, producing a large circular sandy valley region. It forms an almost natural donut-shaped area where a single large boxy dome structure can be seen parked near the mountains. A few sets of autocannon batteries can be seen along with what can be seen as a row of personnel.

Upon reaching the ground, the individuals consist of what appear to be anthro-t-rexes. The large dinosaurs stand on digitigrade legs, being well over twelve feet in height or more. They have long tails that stretch almost the height of their bodies, with arms that are somewhat short but muscular. With the exception of their large lizard-like heads, the rest of their bodies are covered in brown and silver wrap armor. In their hands are assault rifles the size of a human being. The small military outpost is little more than a remote beacon in the middle of nowhere.

There is discomfort in the Alara’jal people. The male and female soldiers stand in formation, seeing the great siege above their foreheads. From the ground, they can watch the occasional nuclear explosions in space. Debris from their fallen warships falls in various directions onto the planet, almost as if watching fire rain from space.

A pair of other Alara’jal soldiers are approaching the formation. Unlike the others, these two consist of brown and gold wrap armor. The taller one wears a gold helmet that covers his head and well-rounded snout, with only dim red slits where his eyes are located. He seems to be talking with a somewhat shorter Alara’jal, who still doesn’t wear his helmet. Unlike many of the other Alara’jal, this male figure has no short feathers on his bald head. He has darker tan scales and a stubbier snout and wears a small one-eye glowing visor display unit over one of his blue and yellow eyes. On their backs are familiar rifles magnetized to their armor. In the short one’s hands is his closed tilon. The two metal strips are pressed together in a metal-gloved hand as he seems tense.

“We’kal ... Lenga’tre Click Natre...” The tall one says in a deep male Itrean voice. He seems fearless, ignoring the battle going on above his head.

“Adjunct Click Hey’di, Alara’jal...” The shorter one replied in an even deeper tone. His voice, much like the other Alara’jal, carries heavy breathing. It becomes a struggle for the people to say more than five words before having to take a breath. Slowly, as we listen to the conversation take place, the Itrean words become easier to understand. While they speak, their speech blends into a language we can decipher...

“Lesser Adjunct Lenga’tre,” the shorter Alara’jal said as the two approached the formation of soldiers. “Did you hear what I said?”

“Yes, Greater Centurion,” the tall one replied, stopping to look at him.

“What is ... the status of Greater Adjunct’s Tral fleet?”

“They are holding ... the Yutilians will fail...”

“This ... is the third siege on Riga’jal in four days ... Lesser Adjunct ... I must know...”

Suddenly, cracking thunder can be heard overhead. Multiple hypervelocity railgun rounds struck not far from their location, smashing the dirt and flinging it into the air. Many of the Alara’jal soldiers ignored it, but the shorter Alara’jal remained adamant. The Lesser Adjunct took a deep breath.

“We’kal, have you finished your assignment?”

“Yes, Lesser Adjunct,” the bald one replied. “Modification is complete. The vehicles ... are ready to deploy.”

“There’ll be no time ... keep the tanks safe.”

“ ... No deployment? Why? The Yutilians ... will try to land.”

“They already have. Kotan is ... losing...”

“They have the capital?”

“Soon ... Lord Ala’rew is ... taking losses ... The Yutilians are smashing our defenses...”

“Impossible...” We’kal pointed his gloved four-digit hand to the sky. “Our fleets will hold.”

“No...” the Lesser Adjunct countered. “We are dying ... disease cripples us ... the Yutilians rely on tactics ... that work. The other clans know ... we are weak ... and kill us all.”

We’kal seemed to think about it. He knew that the lesser adjunct was right. Day by day, year by year, the Alara’jal were shrinking in numbers. The orbital battle above them said it all. No clan ever dared to attack the great capital of the Alara’jal people, but here it was. The other clan species were at the doorstep, and the enemy was winning. The Itrean’s thoughts went back to the small outpost.

“Then why the modifications?” We’kal asked.

“Ala’rew’s orders,” the lesser adjunct replied. “All outposts are to obey...”

“And what of us?”

We’kal watched as the lesser adjunct tapped his helmet, pressing a button that gave a hard beep sound. The great armored dinosaur paused as he was listening to the orders given to him. The bald Itrean remained firm as he continued to watch the orbital battle above. There were more small explosions. Another Alara’jal battleship was obliterated. We’kal could only watch in despair over the events that were taking place.

“They’re what?” The lesser adjunct commented. “ ... Yes ... Yes, understood...”

The leader of the Alara’jal outpost seemed to pause for a short moment. We’kal couldn’t see the Itrean’s face, but his stance and flip of his tail said it all. He began walking ahead to face the group as We’kal joined the formation.

“Attention!” The lesser adjunct took his armored tail and slapped it to the dirt hard. “Tral’s fleets are withdrawing ... Ala’rew’s fleets are moving to secure Gonto’Ki.”

We’kal’s eyes went wide the moment he heard it. The news hit many of the Alara’jal to the core. Retreat ... Without the fleets, the Yutilians were sure to take Rija’jal. It caused the titan to take a deep breath through his nostrils.

“Long-range surface scans ... show a Yutilian task force ... on its way to here,” the lesser adjunct explained. “We are to hold ... and defend the outposts...”

“For how long, Lesser Adjunct?” We’kal asked.

“Till we devour our enemies...”

We’kal’s eyes lowered. It was well said and done, but there was an obvious catch. Above in space, the Alara’jal warships were withdrawing. The explosions in space were beginning to move more and more to the left.

“All warriors secure the platforms,” the lesser adjunct ordered. “The Yutilian ground forces ... will arrive soon. Prepare for bombardment ... prepare for quick assault...” The great dinosaur used his fist to smack his armor piece. “Riga!”

“Jal!” the others responded.

“RIGA!”

“JAL!”

“For Alara’jal!” The leader smacked his tail, causing the soldiers to respond in kind. Like thundering drums, the small army was ready to fight to the last. We’kal waited for the other Alara’jal to fan out. Most decided to separate to give wide birth between one another, preparing for orbital ground bombardment. The fact remained that there was nowhere to hide. Even static defense posts would not be able to handle orbital assault for so long. We’kal walked up to the lesser adjunct to state his questions.

“Alarew has abandoned Riga’jal,” We’kal stated the obvious.

“He will return,” his leader replied.

“Without the fleet, the Yutilians ... will take this world.”

“You doubt our defenses?” the leader’s armored fingers tightened.

“Riga’jal has never ... been abandoned. It is sacred ... for all Alara’jal.”

“Alarew is sure to return...”

“He will not ... Alarew is born in Gonto’ki. He is ... choosing his world ... over ours.”

“We are not to question..., Lord Alarew.”

“Our what? Half our outpost ... half the warriors are too sick ... Our vehicles must deploy! Defend this post...”

“No time ... The Yutilians are striking every outpost ... every base ... hover artillery is en route. Assault carriers ... will be here in minutes.”

We’kal closed his eyes. He knew his leader was defiant. The lumbering giant was dismayed. The explosions above were lessening. Instead, they were being replaced by a series of moving lights in the sky. We’kal knew that in moments, all hell would break loose. The ground Autocannon turrets began to swivel and point directly up at the sky. They wouldn’t last long. This was a small outpost, one of many designed to repel small-scale assaults and help provide support for moving armies. However, little could be done if the main Alara’jal ground force had to defend everything else at once.

It was over before it even began ... Perhaps the lesser adjunct already knew this as well. Riga’jal might survive for days and repel the Yutilian ground forces indefinitely, but not against a coordinated orbital strike. The diseases incapacitating the rest of the warriors only made things worse. Defeat was inevitable...

“I fight for Riga’jal,” We’kal said. “ ... Not for Lord Alarew ... He betrayed us...”

“Fortunately,” the lesser adjunct replied. “The great Lord Alarew is not here to listen to your blasphemy.”

“We will die ... nothing else matters.”

Sounds could be heard from a great distance. The lesser adjunct and We’kal stepped away from each other, detaching the massive rifles from their backs. They began to approach the main compound. For a little while, We’kal thought about deploying his helmet and letting it cover his head. However, a sense of dread filled his thoughts.

“You are right, Lenga’tre,” We’kal told him. “The vehicles won’t matter...”

“Lord Alarew ordered...” the lesser adjunct responded. “That the vehicles stay.”

“Why? If we ... are to die here ... tell me.”

“He believes they will serve ... a higher purpose ... he plans to return.”

“Assuming the Yutilians won’t ... destroy all of it...”

The commander of the base paused and looked at the great structure. A sigh could be heard.

“I...” Lenga’tre said. “Was looking forward ... to seeing my 2nd child born ... under Riga’jal’s light. I’m sorry ... for your loss.”

“It won’t matter,” We’kal replied. “I’ll see Gasa’kra soon ... Perhaps the Yutilians will show mercy ... bury my body next to hers...”

The two Alara’jal turned to face ahead toward the small open valley ahead of the outpost. The sounds were getting louder. We’kal finally made his decision. He tapped the button on his armor, causing the wrap armor to deploy over his head. The eye visor merged with the metal alloy covering his eye, producing a red and blue light that glowed together.

Sets of Yutilian aircraft flew overhead. They were the first to respond. The Alara’jal warriors heard the fast-moving interceptors screaming and making a quick overpass. The autocannon turrets activated immediately. They took quick aim and fired, gunshots echoing through the valley but missing the enemy. The interceptors quickly retreated.

“Prepare for artillery barrage,” the lesser adjunct said.

From atop the distant mountain reaches, multiple sets of fast-moving green hovercraft quickly lined the circular walls of the compound. The mobile platforms were somewhat flat, with green metal bills on the vehicle’s front section. Being no bigger than a large car, they consisted of a single deployable howitzer cannon. The autocannon turrets took quick aim and fired; the quad-heavy cannons fired in rapid succession, hitting and destroying some of the vehicles. However, some had placed themselves into perfect angles, allowing the walls to naturally shield them from the defensive fire.

Suddenly, a cracking sound above could be heard. Like that of lightning, the sky erupted with more sonic booms. The Alara’jal braced themselves from the dirt as multiple hypervelocity rounds came raining from the sky. The salvo slammed into the dirt, but not without knocking out one of the autocannon turrets in the process.

They were sitting ducks. The titans knew that their situation was dire, but there was nowhere to go. We’kal watched as the Yutilian hovercraft shut off their engines and planted themselves atop the walls. They began to deploy their long cannon turrets. Massive anchors slammed into the ground. Meanwhile, from the front of the open valley ahead emerged several moving green vehicles approaching fast. They had a large forward front wheel and two smaller ones on the back axle, along with a gun turret mounted on the top. There were a few of them that consisted of hover vehicles with small autocannon turrets mounted near the forward front. Others consisted of two large wheels on the front and back and a forward-mounted railgun assembly.

“Enemy vehicles! Prepare to fire!” the commanding Alara’jal yelled.

All the armored Alara’jal stood firm and lifted their rifles, pointing them at the vehicles. We’kal did the same.

Suddenly, more gunshots could be heard. The hover artillery units began to open fire. At least seven were unleashing shells from high above the cliffsides. The three remaining autocannon turrets opened fire at the enemy vehicles as they began to close in.

We’kal and some of the Alara’jal quickly moved on foot. The artillery shells would splinter in the air, becoming multiple smaller cluster warheads. It didn’t take long before another autocannon turret was silenced. Blasts continued to echo throughout the landscape.

“Open fire!” the lesser adjunct ordered.

Many of the Alara’jal soldiers started firing at the incoming wheeled vehicles. The immense rifles were like mini autocannons, firing large caliber rounds. Many of the bullets slammed into the smaller green vehicles, punching through their armor.

More artillery shells rained down upon the Alara’jal. We’kal watched as two of the great warriors were struck down. The two-wheeled vehicles quickly slammed down anchors and lifted their railguns, aiming them at the Alara’jal. At the same time, more crackling of the sky could be heard. Another orbital strike occurred as battleship hypervelocity rounds fell and silenced another autocannon turret.

Sudden streams of blue and purple particles could be seen as the Yutilian railgun vehicles fired upon the Alara’jal soldiers. Their shells flew so fast that they easily pierced the Alara’jal armor. More were beginning to fall, their giant lumbering bodies slamming into the dirt.

It was a slaughter, but the Alara’jal still managed to hold their ground. One of the riflemen quickly gunned down a Yutilian APC, blowing the forward axle clean off and causing it to careen into the dirt. At the same time, with the exception of the artillery and railguns, the heavy machine gun turrets on the armored vehicles failed to punch through the thick armor of the titans. The green vehicles were good at lightning attacks, but their armor could not resist the defensive fire in turn. These were little more than fodder for the massive rifles.

“Incoming!” We’kal yelled out. He saw another artillery salvo unleashed upon the compound. The lesser adjunct was focused on the battle ahead, but as he turned to look up, he could see that the shells were aimed at his location.

“Move!” the lesser adjunct yelled.

We’kal got the hint. He charged forward as the shells screamed near him, but it proved ineffective. Both he and the commander managed to evade the shells as they struck near the forward entrance, sending more dirt into the air. By the time We’kal turned his head forward, he saw the blast particles of a railgun shot. When he turned to the left, he saw the lesser adjunct clench his chest and fall to the ground.

“Fight ... fight...,” were the lesser adjunct’s last words.

We’kal had little time to feel sorry. “Hold your ground, warriors! He yelled. “Riga!”

“Jal!” the remaining Alara’jal fought on.

“RIGA!”

“JAL!”

Another autocannon turret was silenced. By now, the enemy artillery was focusing its fire against the Alara’jal. We’kal saw one of the armored APCs come close to him. He felt the machine fire slam against his armor, doing nothing. Meanwhile, he took two shots, hitting the forward canopy, where the enemy driver would be located.

It proved effective...

The vehicle lost control and began to slip to the side. We’kal used his massive tail, lifting it into the air, before slamming it down upon the forward section of the APC, causing it to flip forward and careen upside down upon itself. We’kal wasn’t finished as he turned and fired several more rounds into the downed vehicle while only hearing the screams and chirps of the Yutilian soldiers who were still trapped in the vehicle that he destroyed.

However, he suddenly heard a blast. In the ensuing fight against the nearby vehicle, a distant railgun destroyer had fired. The round went clean through, striking We’kal in the abdomen.

“Argh!” We’kal roared. His armored teeth and jaws gave a defining yell that echoed in the ensuing battleground. The great Itrean knew that he was not doing well, but he would make this his final move. He could see the warriors were being cut down more and more. Another orbital strike could be heard from above. The orbiting Yutilian ships silenced the last autocannon turret.

Over 1/2 of the Alara’jal were left. We’kal summoned his strength and lifted his rifle, shooting and grazing another Yutilian vehicle. He watched as Yutilian interceptors slowly emerged from the cliffsides. Free from the defenses of the autocannons, the attacking Itreans could push further. They tried to use their missiles, successfully striking an Alara’jal multiple times before she fell to the ground dead. However, another warrior took aim at the sky and fired. Amazingly, the Yutilian aircraft flew too close, and one of them got struck in the wing, causing it to lose control and careen into the ground not far from We’kal.

There was a pause ... We’kal could feel himself grow weaker. Blasts were all around him. The suit managed to seal most of the wound, but it couldn’t heal a damaged organ. The railguns on the vehicles were the most devastating of them all, as they could hit and punch through armor with ease. If the Alara’jal warriors had more room to maneuver, they would have done so. Another shot hit We’kal in the upper left chest.

“Engh!” We’kal fell to the ground. The great dinosaur looked ahead while he remained on his digitigrade armored legs. Despite being shot twice, he still managed to lift his rifle up again and fire. One missed a railgun vehicle in the distance, and the second one struck the turret and disabled it. We’kal tried to fire again, but he heard a click. His rifle was empty...

The battle was lost ... the mortally injured Itrean felt his body grow weaker and weaker. He could do nothing but praise the remaining titans in their ensuing attempt to defend the base. One brave soul managed to run to the autocannon turret in hopes of manning it and using it against the invading Yutilians. However, We’kal would not be able to see it. He fell to the dirt...

“I ... failed you, Riga...,” he tried to say. His eyes befell the compound behind him.

“If only ... you were free to fight...,” We’kal remarked. His hand went toward the building almost as if he could reach out and touch it. Deep down, he knew the days of the Alara’jal were coming to an end. With the Itreans chipping away every base and structure on Riga’jal, the other cities were sure to fall.

Another aerial crack could be heard. We’kal could see a series of missiles raining down from the sky. The enemy battleships were zeroing in, now deploying a torpedo strike upon the compound. They weren’t going to even bother taking the base. Why would they? This place was insignificant when compared to the cities and larger facilities all around the great planet. For all he knew, this was little more than a tiny blip under their radar.

It would have to hold out...

We’kal’s eyes grew still, and the last thing he saw was a series of explosions erupting from the black circular walls. The combined artillery strikes, missiles, and torpedoes all slammed against the base’s walls, creating a series of bright flashes until ... nothing.

The Alara’jal’s eyes fell weak. The light fell into darkness before the Itrean’s life was extinguished...

Today...

Over the same grounds, near the decayed ruins of Riga’jal’s small, destroyed base, a human kneels upon the sandy soil. In his hands, he holds a large brush, busily pushing away sand over a set of metal remains. It was midday. The sun illuminated the entire landscape in bright orange.

“Hmmm...,” the man remarked in a coarse former Middle Eastern accent. “Found something...”

The human appeared to be a man in his mid-twenties. He has a somewhat mixed complexion and a trimmed beard and mustache. His clothing consists of an outback civilian-style outfit: pants, a long-sleeved shirt, boots, a gold belt, and a safari-like hat over his cut black hair. In all likelihood, he seemed to have the facial features of a man born in Saudi Arabia.

“Tahir!” a female voice could be heard in the distance.

“ ... Eh ... what?” the man reacted, keeping his gaze away from the voice. His hand continued to brush the sand away from the artifact that he had found.

“Tahir?” the female voice was closer.

“Mmm ... yes?”

Tahir turned to look at the approaching woman. What he saw was a small Yutilian woman no bigger than four feet in height, standing not far from him. However, unlike many of the other Itrean women who worked around the dig site, this Itrean had no feathers on her body. She still retained greenish scales to her anthro-reptilian frame and tail. She had a dull, pointed, armored snout and a set of small horns protruding from the sides of her head. Being topless, the woman didn’t wear a shirt, but she lacked any form of breasts or nipples over her yellowish-smooth front. Without her shirt, she also had something quite noticeable, as well as her large protruding stomach that pressed over her wrapped blue tunic.

“Any luck?” she asked him in rather fluent English. Her voice consisted of the typical Itrean accent, which was similar to a combination of French, Spanish, and Japanese that would blend together.

“Actually, yeah,” Tahir replied, brushing more dirt away. “Found another armor set...”

“Need help?”

“Sure, Tr’ina...”

He stepped a little bit to the side as he continued brushing. The pregnant Yutilian quickly leaned down onto the sand and brought her four-digit clawed hands upon the dirt. Tahir already knew the capabilities of these particular women. Immediately, Tr’ina began to scoop in rapid succession, immediately tossing dirt below and past her scaly tail. Dust was thrown into the wind. Her digging was done with quick grace, easily moving away the sand that had piled up over the pieces of armor.

“Heh,” Tahir cracked a smile. “A paleontologist always knows to marry a Ko’min.”

“And her sisters,” Tr’ina replied, smiling at him. Her claws served as natural shovels.

“Sometimes I see you pregnant and forget to ask for your help.”

“We always dig ... we wouldn’t exist if our mothers didn’t dig, too.”

Tahir continued to analyze what he was seeing. Other Itreans were also busy excavating the ruins, doing everything from marking the size of the former building to working with the nearby dig camps. The constant mild sandstorms had taken their toll over the open, flat valley. Even the slopping hillsides showed signs of erosion. The man looked around, noting the remains of the former base. A few slabs of metal and armor lay standing. Much of it had been knocked down or destroyed. Nature claimed the rest.

The man resumed brushing, pushing away the sand piled over the armor. It was here that he could see the signs of bone protrusions. Portions of the helmet had rusted and eroded. The paleontologist noted the skull that could be seen underneath it.

“Seventh one discovered in two days,” Tahir remarked.

Tr’ina momentarily paused. “Anything special?” She leaned her head and gave him a faint smile.

“Actually, yeah. The armor is a different color ... Probably gold or yellow ... It’s possible this Alara’jal soldier was much closer to the base when it was destroyed ... scolded the armor.”

“A leader?” Tr’ina asked.

“Maybe. It would be a good find so far ... The last stand of Talreh Click Rea’otlik ... or as we call it, Outpost-47.”