[Thought you might like to see this:
Prologue
In the year 2056, World War III began, 14 years before I was born. When I was born, the war was still going on. Terrorism had taken over much of the Asian continent, and people lived in fear of what would happen if they rebelled, and so, nothing happened. If some recall, upon reading this journal entry of mine, their history lessons, and the phrase 'History Repeats Itself', some had taken that phrase to mean that new things didn't happen. The war that went on for 21 years wasn't like those before it at all. A war that ravaged a continent, destroyed whole countries, and brought the once-mighty Russia to a level so low, that they tried to leave the planet entirely, and settle on the then-new colonies of Mars. A fuel was developed, as I recall, so powerful, and so incredibly efficient, that the bloody rocket appeared to have blown up on the launch pad. After the war was over, the launch site was examined, as was the fuel. After some testing and mixing of various components, it was found to be very powerful indeed. It was thought that this fuel would let us travel to Mars in mere days, instead of weeks. Upon these notes of fast space travel, I joined the Military Academy on Plaza 4, one of the 13 or so one would find on Mars. They trained us for, what they thought anyway, was every possible circumstance, including some thought quite impossible. Deep-Sea tactics among the more unlikely scenarios taught to us by our instructors. If only then, they knew what we would face, enemies great enough to unite the entire Human race, with little exception, to a cause.
But yes, back to the story of what happened. The fuel, having been remade, was tested on scale models, and other such things, and on our great computers. When came time for the launch, it was decided to launch on the older fuels, as a safety precaution. If that had not been the case, I'm afraid the fate of the brave souls aboard that flight would be mere shrapnel in the side of a building, rather than the heroes they returned to Earth as. The countdown was normal, no different than any other. The launch was normal, no different than many others seen. After the fuel was switched, however, it was not normal at all. It would appear that the mixture wasn't quite ready after, all. The sensor boards on Mars found the craft for no more than a hundredth of a second, and even then, they weren't sure if it was the right craft, or simply a meteorite, which so often confused the simple sensor arrays set up on that planet.
A month or so later, a shuttle returned to Earth, with the pilots aboard talking of Alien races and great wars from where they had returned. Their story was thus:
"We woke up , saw stars turned into lines almost, short lines, but still, they were lines, not dots, and hit the reverse thrusters. Must have taken us half a day to stop, we were running out of air, but when we stopped, I almost wish we had run out of air. Then, I mean, now it's good to be alive. Anyway, we stopped finally, and found ourselves in another Solar System entirely. Some big battle in space was going on, kind of reminded me of those old movies I watched when I was little. One side had a bunch of machines fighting for it, a few of the Sirians were fighting, but, mostly, it was their machines. The other side, I think our guide called them Rokahn or something like that, he said they were cyborgs, or at least, that was the nearest translation of the word."
Two weeks later, they came. Thousands of craft, maybe tens of thousands, no on really knows, but they were carrying the ground force to occupy and enslave our planet Earth. Monstrous machines, 8-9 feet tall, with lasers and other weapons. The Sirians showed us no mercy. They enslaved entire populations, destroyed forests, and ferried what they took back to their planet. Only those on Mars were entirely safe, apparently the Sirians thought of us as a trivial pursuit, not worth their time. The roughly four million people on the planet lived, constantly afraid of the fate that might someday come. The time called for heroes, and many answered that call, many died, some still live today, like me.
This story tells of the actions of some of the best, the ones I was privileged to fight with, some of the greatest heroes the universe has ever seen.
November 1st, 2157
Capt. Jeremy Withers, Last Surviving Member of Gemini Squadron
<Also, Sommy, if you want, you're up, otherwise, I'll probably not do this, I won't have time this month to manage NPCs that are player-characters or anything with NaNo going on>
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