A\N: My full author's note was too long to fit on the page and was wrecking the story, so I put the behind-the-scenes explanation of the story on my profile. Enjoy the fic!
The ship catches one's eye.
It's all right to be impressed. In space, you could float for all of eternity and see nothing but the vast night sky. Even with a map and rockets, you would take years to reach so much as another planet in this solar system.
So if you've been floating in space, a giant ship screaming down on you out of nowhere would be surprising.
It doesn't scream, of course. There's no sound in space. But the jarring pull of gravity as it shudders into reality makes something primal in the brain create an noise, a roaring sound that would be comparable, maybe, to standing next to a thousand jet engines.
Maybe. After all, the human mind is capable of amazing things. Sounds are no exception.
The behemoth, unaware of that ungodly sound, comes to a slow halt. It cannot be seen clearly; the only reason that it could be seen at all is because, at this close range, the holographic cloaking doesn't matter. Any enemy warship, a Goliath to match this one, would have collided instantly, and a smaller ship...
Well, when your ship is a full mile long, enemy crafts don't particularly matter.
The ship continues on for a moment before its shields flicker off, and with it the cloaking devices that kept it safely hidden. And now, of course, if you were watching you would have to follow it, since being caught in its gravitational well is nothing to laugh at, even if it is smaller than a planet. Now the true size and majesty of the warship is revealed.
The allegiance should be obvious. After all, there are only two powers in the galaxy, and both have very distinctive warships. The Eltarian-based Council of Light, to enhance their transportation system's energy\matter displacement, paints their warships a bright blue, while the Dark Court's ships go unpainted, since there is no point spending the money when a wormhole really doesn't care what color you are.
But both ships have lights that are like little galaxies, and when this ship's lights flicker on, the allegiance is obvious.
Yes, a full city's worth of lights are there. But when that's barely a quarter of the outside lights, the ship is running on a skeleton crew. Painted, unpainted; it no longer matters.
This ship is bound for Earth.
And, indeed, after a day or two of slower-than-light traveling, Earth appears as a small blue planet, its moon, Luna, growing larger and larger. This is when confusion sets in. The ship, large as it is, should be headed directly for Earth. This is a refugee ship, after all. The protocol is standard; the ship will approach, place its occupants in smaller ships, then use the gravity well of Earth to slingshot away for its next group of passengers while the smaller ships land on whatever part of Earth the refugees feel like calling home.
But instead, it seems to be headed for the moon.
Perhaps this is a Dark Court ship after all? Rita and Zedd ch'Arria, minor monarchs within the complex political system of the Dark Court, once took refuge on Luna's surface, battling by proxy with Eltar's Power Rangers. And the unpainted ship is most certainly heading for the moon. Maybe there is something within the lunar palace's ruins that should be retrieved, or perhaps new foes are going to appear-
Four dots detach.
They are marked by bright flares of light, and shoot off in a perfect formation. Their jets glow a beautiful blue, leaving a slight trail in their wake. They are fighter ships, and their pilots perform a quick series of maneuvers to ensure coordination before taking off.
They head for Earth.
In space, you cannot know that Earth is anything but a heaven. Many before you have made that same mistake. Refugees, who saw Earth's unique, precarious inability to be claimed by anyone as a blessing, flooded the planet's surface in the hopes of creating a life without any wars. And from this distance, it seems majestically serene, and you understand why her people call her Mother Earth, for there is something inherently maternal in the life-giving greens that the planet displays.
But if you could, you would see turmoil.
The world rages in debate. Are aliens good? Or evil? Have they come to help or hinder us? The fight has long been spread across the world, with every person their own answer, ranging from violent hatred to welcome and eager cooperation.
But when the fighters scream into the atmosphere, burning bright as suns from the friction, the fight suddenly becomes a single nation's, a single city's.
A corrupt government organization. A nation traumatized by a terrorist. Democrats vs. Republicans. War vs. Peace. Good vs. Evil.
The locus of a thousand battles and political moves falls in four bright, burning suns as the Daemon arrive to reclaim their city.
Operation: Lightspeed Rescue has begun.