Prelude: Rising Daran

~In the vast, cold reaches of space, more than a million miles beyond the orbit of Pluto, the velvet blackness rippled, distorted, then split apart in a whirling vortex of cosmic energy. A sleek vessel slid from the aperture in the space-time continuum, and the wormhole sealed itself once the starship was clear of the vector field. On the confined bridge of the small scout vessel, an alarm blared, warning of unusual radiation pouring off the yellow star the system was centered on. Several polzarizing energy shields were raised, and the viewscreens dimmed to compensate for the different light frequency. "We have arrived in the Sol system, Commander,*" The helmsman reported, and the commander nodded as he leaned forward. "Excellent. Set course for the third planet from the star." The commander stroked at his chin thoughtfully as he recalled the details of his mission briefing, then turned to the operations officer. "And engage stealth mode; we won't have the Fleet following along behind us this time, so we don't want to stir up the locals."

(*-Translated from Darrikaan, for your reading convenience.)

  Systems both active and passive engaged, reducing the scout ship's electronic presence to virtually nothing. A heat sink deep within the core of the ship prevented thermal exhaust, and radiation scrubbers were hard at work to keep the ship's interior livable under these conditions. With stealth mode engaged, one would have to make visual contact to confirm the ship's presence, and considering the matte black paint job, one would be unlikely to pick out the ship against the endless backdrop of the cosmos. At minimum operating power, the scouting party sliced through the solar system like a bullet; heading for a blue and green marble orbiting just inside the star's habitable zone. Meanwhile, billions of miles distant, situated on that very marble, a very restless Polar Phantasm tossed and turned in bed. Horrid visions danced in his head; of Scathe, the Dark Timekeeper, of Nathan von Liebert. By turns and in concert they tormented him, but worse was when they tormented his family.

  In his mind's eye, Polar heard his wife calling to him, shrieking in pain. He watched himself race into the living room of their former home in Nevada, where he saw Nightmare consumed by a pillar of flame. In agony and panic she reached out for him, and his heart leaped into his throat, leaving an icy hole where it should be. That frozen sensation spread throughout Cameron as though his blood were turning to ice in his veins. "No!" That single shouted word dispelled the energy building within him, and a pulse erupted from his body. In an instant, the room was encased in a thick shroud of ice; the flames enveloping Crystal having flash frozen at his cry. His breath hung misty in the air before him, and he moved to free his wife. Before he could take more than a trio of steps, water began running down the ice statuette in rivulets, followed by a series of cracks forming along the ice's surface. An explosion of flame and ice shards threw Polar back across the room, where he struck a wall.

  Back in Colorado, Cameron jerked awake in his bed, his panic subsiding when he laid eyes on his wife's sleeping form. Certainly hot, but not on fire. Polar stood and made his way to the bathroom, the motion sensor turning the light on as he entered the room. "Alert," said Iceberg-7 as Cam finished relieving himself, "A spacecraft of unknown origin was detected entering orbit around Earth approximately two hours, twenty-seven minutes ago. Passive surveillance suggests it is a scout." Polar's eyebrows tried to climb into his hairline at the casual revelation of an alien species hanging about in orbit. "And you're only telling me this now?" Cam asked his friend and creation, "Why didn't you tell me two and a half hours ago, when you first detected this thing?!?" A moment of silence passed, and if Polar didn't know better, he would have sworn I-7 was hesitating. "This unit was unable to locate user Polar Phantasm with internal thermal sensors."

  Confused, Cam scratched at the side of his head. "Weird. All right, I'll take a look at the systems in the morning--" Polar cut off as I-7 made a negative sounding beep. "This unit has already performed three diagnostics on all sensory equipment; no abnormalities detected." Cam shook his head at the statement. "Well there's gotta be something wrong, Eye-Seven," Polar said, only to be cut off by another beep. "Negative; this unit is functioning within normal parameters. User Polar Phantasm is the one experiencing technical difficulties." Normally the computer didn't show this much sass; I-7 was probably spending too much time with Tesla. "Now hold on a second," Cam said indignantly, "People don't have 'technical difficulties' the way you do. It's far more logical that there's a bug in your system. Why would you think I'm the one having technical difficulties?" Polar was expecting a simplistic analogy, likely comparing his senses to computer systems. "Because user Polar Phantasm no longer has a heat signature." He had definitely not been expecting that.~