-by Blicero Weissmann

The lights in the sky were back, and seemingly brighter than ever before. In recent years there had been more and more, sometimes individual ships sailing through the night, sometimes whole constellations winking and burning in the night sky. Sometimes they brought luck, occasionally even “starmetal”, alloys raining from the sky over the horizon, to be harvested and used for tools and structures.

Umas Mackleby watched them in the night sky from the balcony of the Main Council Building, and hoped that the lights were a good portent for the Founding Day Festival tomorrow. None of them ever seemed to bother the colony on Rocorra at least, and surely these would soon flit away into the darkness as well. Since the ships had first reappeared centuries ago, only the occasional com messages were exchanged with the colony; space was rich and vast, and the burgeoning interstellar civilizations above seemed to have no interest in a rough desert world.

Rocorra had always been a harsh word, mostly jagged rock outcroppings and vast oceans of sand. Umas’ ancestors had come here from the stars centuries ago, limping across space in a converted cargo ship. Their once-prosperous homeworld, a bounty of lush forests and rich oceans, had turned poisonous and deadly, beginning to falter soon after the collapse of the Eve Gate. The mighty terraforming machines had stopped and lay still, and the cities choked while the fields around them turned to mud in the driven acidic rain. Millions had died; a few thousand refugees had packed the holds of an ore-hauler with the last of their provisions and set out for the nearest star, hoping to find a habitable world. They found Rocorra; barely in the habitable range, covered in desert, and lit with the faint reddish-glow of a dying star.

They had died by the hundreds in the first years and decades, struggling to plant crop in the salty red soil. There had been many who believed this world would defeat them, and rows of grave markers cast long shadows on the other side of the stark iron ridge. But their ancestors had survived, crafting rough greenhouses and shelters from the remains of their crippled ship at first, then slowly crawling out to conquer the surrounding valley. From where Umas stood now, he could see the towers of the large moisture condensers spreading out from the settlement, feeding the greenhouse complexes and the network of irrigation tunnels that now laced the valley. Centuries of hard labor had built all of this, and now Rocorra was a home, not just a refuge.

Umas glanced once more at the dancing lights overhead, then retreated inside. He had to finish writing his speech honoring their ancestors’ sacrifice. He would also announce the colony’s planned expansion into the neighboring valley; work teams had already begun clearing sites for the first condensers. Rocorra was still a rough world, Umas pondered, but it had a brilliant future. Below in the near-deserted town square, workers strung streamers and garlands in preparation.

The next morning, Umas Mackleby again stepped onto his balcony. The scene had changed from the night before; the square was filled with colonists, most with bright decorative sashes covering their grey and brown work clothes. Around them the colony sprawled; lush green plantings everywhere and sparkling greenhouse windows stretching to the valley walls, a fertile contrast to the sharp black ridges on the horizon and to the pale red sky above. A haze of clouds hung high in the atmosphere; maybe there would even be rain today, a rare occurrence and a true blessing on this dry world. Good luck indeed. Umas smiled at the crowd while he called up his Founding Day speech on his datapad. He opened his mouth to speak, but his first words were cut short.

A series of dull thuds shook the valley, a sound that had not occurred here for over a thousand years. Stark white contrails slowly tracked high overhead as the sonic booms reverberated against the iron rocks on the far side of the valley. Rocorra had visitors, the first since founding. While the crowd stared at the sky, Umas felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Councilman, I think you need to hear this.” It was Nelby Groton, the colony’s chief technician. Umas followed him back through the Main Council Building and across a narrow street to the Coms Building. A low lying structure, it had been constructed from hull plating, and the old ore-hauler’s main antenna array jutted from the roof. Barely used, ancient communication consoles filled the structure, and cables snaked their way through the roof to the makeshift spire above. Coming through the speakers was a harsh voice.

“…. claimed by the Unified Industrial Combine Corporation in accordance with CONCORD sovereignty regulations. All capsuleers are advised to maintain 1 AU distance. All transgressions will be met with deadly force.”

“Attention. Attention. This world, designated as 1X3P-3 V, has been claimed by the Unified Industrial Combine Corporation in accordance with CONCORD sovereignty regulations. All capsuleers are advised to maintain 1 AU distance. All transgressions will be met with deadly force.”

“Attention. Attention. This world, designated as 1X3P-3 V, has been claimed by the Unified Industrial Combine Corporation in accordance with CONCORD sovereignty regulations. All capsuleers are advised to maintain 1 AU distance. All transgressions….”

“It’s on every channel, every frequency.” Nelby looked grim. “We’ve tried sending a response, but we’re not getting anything at all back. We’re not even sure the antenna is still able to send. We’ve got a team looking at it now.”

“Is it even aimed at us?” Umas asked. “1X3p-3 V? Do they mean Rocorra?”

“Attention. Attention. This world, designated as 1X3P-3 V, has been claimed by the Unified Industrial Combine Corporation….”

“I’m not sure. What should we do about this? Who is Unified Combine Corporation?”

“Attention. Attention. This world, designated as 1X3P-3 V, has been claimed by…”

“Keep trying to contact them. Rocorra is ours, and we need to let them know that they’re in for a fight if they want it, or at least find out who we’re dealing with here.” Umas stood straight. “I’ll go back out there and alert the people, then talk to the rest of the Council. Let me know if there is any change here. We’ll start raising a defense force too; there are some old laser rifles in storage, and we know the land here better than anyone. Hopefully they just won’t notice us, or care”

Umas turned and strode purposefully out back towards the Main Council Building. This was a new challenge, but one he was sure the colony could face.

“Attention. Attention. This world, designated as 1X3P-3 V, has been claimed by…”

Far overhead, the captain of the Unified Industrial Combine Apocalypse Resolute Vengeance hailed the captain of a nearby Chimera carrier.

“FC, we’ve completed landing of our command center and have begun on-lining operations. We’ve also begun landing our extractors, but there is a problem: one of the largest deposits of aqueous liquids appears to be covered by a collection of structures; scans just come back with “Miscellaneous Civilian Structures. No known type. We hadn’t expected to find anyone here.”

“Anything particularly hard to remove?”

“No sir. Nothing military-grade; I don’t even think it’s capsuleer.”

“Then take it out, and continue with your landing. Don’t bother me with everything that comes up on your overview. NBSI”.

The captain adjusted his overview, adjusted his targeting for planetary bombardment, and toggled his “fire” key. There was a slight hum from beyond the capsule wall as the massive turrets tracked into position. He watched as beams of pure light streaked through space and into the atmosphere below, burning away their target. He always had thought laser-light was beautiful. This time, he noted a particularly interesting effect, one he had never seen before; a multicolored arc of refracted laser sprang from where the beams met the high cloud-cover.

A large bright rainbow lit the sky of Rocorra.