Dawn of Rebellion

The sterile grey of the Imperial barracks did little to soothe Cain’s restless spirit. Even the hum of the ventilation system seemed to mock him, a monotonous drone against the thrumming in his own veins. Dawn was a distant promise, a faint blush on the viewport that barely cut through the oppressive artificial light. He traced the worn edges of the datapad in his hand, the schematics of the Imperial battlestars now etched into his memory. Commander Liara’s fleet. Four behemoths, bristling with enough firepower to scour planets. And Aldean, his mother’s former capital, lay directly in their path.

He remembered the whispers, the hushed tones of Admiral Noah explaining the situation. The Battle of Lasandra, a brutal, decisive victory for the Empire. Queen Lasandra, his mother, stripped of her crown, her kingdom broken, and her son… lost. Noah had been there, a specter in the chaos, plucking him from the wreckage of his former life, a life he barely recalled. Now, disguised as Lieutenant Cain, a promising officer in the very fleet that had shattered his family, he was on the cusp of a mission that felt both terrifying and inevitable.

“Still poring over those blueprints, Lieutenant?”