In the bright space around Dojack, our mighty armada met with its oldest foe – the Fist of God rebellion and its leadership. Chased from system to system for nearly six decades, it was in that nebula-wisped space that they decided to make their last stand. Trusting in their Divine Glory-class battleship, Magenta Horizon bore down on them with a ferocity Stalk of Olive would have celebrated.
The cultists, decrying our science and technology, believed their prayers would win the day. After a two-day siege they discovered just how feeble their petty deities truly were, and how sublime our dedication to the advancement of our species was. Huddled inside the last few compartments that sustained life, they could hear colonial marines from Nigiro III approaching, heavy robotic boots on battle-scarred flooring.
Finally eradicating the last pockets of resistance on the former flagship, few prisoners were taken as most of the zealous rebels preferred to throw their lives away in futile suicide-type attacks. The cult’s leader was found on the vessel’s bridge, killed by her own hand, unwilling to face the gravity of her crimes with honor. At long last, the Fist of God had met its end.
Engineers restored the ship’s powerful engines and pressed it into military service as the Dawn of Creation – some argued the name was a sick reminder of a dark time in our history, but the noble men and women who fought the rebels would have it no other way. It was towed into a nearby spaceport for permanent repairs, and to ensure the cultists hadn’t left any explosive surprises behind.
Taking advantage of the fierce fighting taking place elsewhere, several raider fleets descended upon our defenseless research stations, plundering them and killing the inhabitants. They were hunted down without mercy, Magenta Horizon wanting to send a clear message to others who believed we couldn’t face threats on multiple fronts.
Construction ships had the research stations back in operation in a matter of days.