- Posting Speed
- One post per day
- 1-3 posts per week
- Writing Levels
- Advanced
- Adaptable
- Preferred Character Gender
- Male
- Female
Taking place on a rural backwater planet belonging to one of two space faring civilizations that are at war with each other.
The planet is used mainly for mining and agriculture and has a population hovering just below one billion. They rely somewhat on supply ships from far off industrial/developed worlds to operate normally in day to day life.
One day, a supply ship fails to arrive, causing quite the buzz on the planet. Two weeks pass and ships do eventually arrive in orbit, but they are those of the enemy. A scout fleet has arrived, likely heralding the coming of more, and the battle for Aphogia is about to begin.
The story follows a group of young individuals (18-35) that are drafted to fight for the undermanned and ill-equipped military garrison on the planet with the objective to hold out until help hopefully arrives.
This follows a group of people who should have no business being around weapons of war, much less operate them. But they've been thrust into the middle of a bloody period of a long war and will come out of it, if they do come out of it, for better or worse.
The planet is used mainly for mining and agriculture and has a population hovering just below one billion. They rely somewhat on supply ships from far off industrial/developed worlds to operate normally in day to day life.
One day, a supply ship fails to arrive, causing quite the buzz on the planet. Two weeks pass and ships do eventually arrive in orbit, but they are those of the enemy. A scout fleet has arrived, likely heralding the coming of more, and the battle for Aphogia is about to begin.
The story follows a group of young individuals (18-35) that are drafted to fight for the undermanned and ill-equipped military garrison on the planet with the objective to hold out until help hopefully arrives.
This follows a group of people who should have no business being around weapons of war, much less operate them. But they've been thrust into the middle of a bloody period of a long war and will come out of it, if they do come out of it, for better or worse.
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The year is 2101 P.U. (Post-Unification)
War has torn a galaxy much like our own asunder as two titanic factions wage war against each other in a conflict nearly fifteen-hundred years in the making. For the last eighteen years men and women from The Cartenian Empire and The Republic of Centor have died either in the darkness of space or met their fate on the bloody dirt of terrestrial battlefields. Tens of millions have died, and millions more will follow as the two factions, rivals for as long as anyone can remember, are stuck in a form of trench warfare that has left more than twenty planets on the front lines nothing more but a smoldering wreck. Everyday thousands die, and thousands more are drafted from either side to replace those who fell before. For honor, for the Empire. For assured safety, for the Republic. For family, for the continued survival of your society. Whatever the case may be the horrors of war rage in the inferno that is The Intergalactic War.
But that's all a distant thought. Just another spiel on the Empire's state-run news channels. That didn't matter way in the outer rim of Cartenian Space. On the backwater planet of Aphogia, the only thing that mattered was when the next shipment from the industrial worlds would come in. And the last fleet of transport ships were already late by nearly two weeks. Nobody expected an enemy attack. Stealth strike groups could never penetrate so deep into the Empire's defense system. And besides, what could the Republic possibly want with an agricultural planet? There planet's garrison and fortifications were laughable at best and it would have been a terrible springboard for an attack on other planets. Their star port wasn't even entirely finished yet. And still, nothing.
Finally, on the fifteenth day, April 20th, 2101, contacts popped up on long range scanners. The planet's governor Justin Novatus, had a rant and a half ready for the transport captain about lack of supplies and rationing for the planet's inhabitants, but his anger soon turned to stone cold fear. The contacts bore the symbol for enemy ships. A fleet of about twenty ships, and many smaller symbols were beginning to flow from them. He didn't want to believe it, but the commander of the planet's garrison was much more quick to begin making orders and instituting martial law. He had seen this before, having served on the front lines just five years ago. A scouting fleet, and that usually meant a full compliment of assault ships would be coming not very long afterwards. The planet had to be defended, and he was short men, but the reserve arsenal placed on the planet meant one thing. The citizens would play their part and a draft would be initiated effectively immediately. The eligible candidates? Anyone.
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