On the surface of the planet, the rogue states were warring against the inter-planetary federation. Riots had been occurring with increasing frequency and this led to a larger proliferation of small arms. The masses were revolting against the federation, driven to fervour by dark-clad clergymen; touting the word of god and claiming that the federation was nothing more than the devil!
The problem multiplied as the days grew into weeks. Black marketeers began trading bigger and more powerful weapons with the rogue states. The federation was being beaten back. The rogue states were becoming more and more zealous; burning their captives alive, drinking the blood of the federation's troops and even feasting on their flesh.
Evil was everywhere...
Who could the federation turn to in these evil and wretched times?
Commander Theodore Welt looked down at the desk in front of him. All around him were the gathered commanders from a dozen beleaguered armies. Their faces were careworn and their gazes were far away. They were beaten but they just didn't know it yet.
All was quiet.
There was an air of complete failure in the room and the taint of hopelessness hung around the commanders like a cloud of pollen floating on a spring breeze.
Commander Welt looked up from the screen on his desk and said, to those assembled...
"What can we do to turn the tide on these mad zealots? Is there no one who can come up with a plan?"
Silence was the reply....
...but...
The commanders desk began to beep. He looked down at the screen and upon it was written a very short statement...
WATCH...THE...SKY...
Bemused he looked out of the window...
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