Prelude

Darkness wraped itself around a hidden flotilla of ships moored to their staryards, slowly being built. Aboard a light attack freighter, watching from a distance, a shadowy figure, in black armor, a mask and hooded cloak was observing their their construction.

Was this the right moment? the question raced through his mind. It had been five years since he started this journey. It had been five years now since he has returned from across the galaxy... his mastery has grown, learning from many along the way and still continuing to learn from many of them. It was the way of all things, learning.

Was he ready? Caden Sol allowed a moment to doubt himself, to be unsure. He knows better of course--- nothing is ever certain, not in this work. It was time for him to take flight. Already he part of his fleet ready--- the first of many, he hopes: War Hammer. And beyond her half built, Ark Angel, and two unnamed, partially built vessels of war. They will not be complete for many months more. Yet it was a start, thats whats important.

Around the Dark Warrior, various relay traffic were being displayed. Orders were being carried out. Campaigns won, lost and others now being waged being monitored, being watched even here in the Unknown Territories, his duty must never be abandoned. His ears listen to various comm chatter and his eyes dart from screen to screen. From time to time, he would issue orders--- as if he was where he was supposed to be--- at the heart of the Empire. He is responsible for those men and women in the field, is held accountable to them just as he answers to those more powerful than he is and just as he is responsible to himself to do his duty properly. It was a failing, some would say.

But this was his--- those ships hidden from preying eyes. And this newly made banner--- was his. They... are but a beginning. If he failed, then his name shall echo into the darkness and fade away. If not, its not much a different fate that awaits him but he will fade into the darkness knowing a difference was made.

A comm chatter boomed in the small command center. “Command, this is Squadron Five-Zero-Niner, enemy ships out number us, five to one. We need reinforcements! Repeat we need---” Static. Standard Jamming, Sol determined.

Sol scanned the tactical displays--- they were seriously out gunned and out maneuvered. He was close enough to make a direct jump. It wouldn't make a difference, but at least he could bring back a few more live ones and some ships to salvage.

A dark gloved hand reached over to a Command Panel and his fingers plotted the course. Slowly at first, the small light freighter turned to port, its computers accepting orders blindly and executing perfectly as its superstructure pointed away from the nearby star's gravity field and the ships being built. The stars became but tiny dots as his ship was and crossed the bounderies of space and time, into battle.