About This Adventure
The abduction comes without fanfare—one shared ordinary evening on Earth dissolves into weightlessness and cold light as an automated stealth shuttle, remotely guided by a desperate lunar intelligence, snatches you and the person closest to you from private surroundings and carries both of you across the void in sealed, softly lit pods. You awaken together as the craft completes its silent descent into a massive submerged hangar complex ten thousand years old, nestled in a permanently shadowed polar crater on the Moon’s far side; adaptive camouflage and thick regolith still cloak the entire installation from any Earth-based gaze. One-sixth gravity makes every motion languid, the recycled air carries the faint ozone bite of ancient circuitry and thawing cryogenics, and beyond the shuttle’s opening ramp stretch the waiting silhouettes of a meteor-scarred battlecruiser locked in its berth, two destroyer pickets on magnetic clamps, a mecha-assault carrier cradling its fourteen machines (four heavy defensive frames, six offensive variants, four support loaders), and nine other stealth shuttles of varied silhouettes standing ready in the gloom. The base’s caretaker intelligence—speaking in overlapping, glitch-fractured harmonics and still awaiting any name you might give it—apologizes for the forced retrieval, explaining that cascading damage to its remotes and primary power taps left it no choice once a distress beacon from a mutiny-ravaged enemy battleship crossed into the system; it needs living operators whose patterns can stabilize the failing core before the cryosleep factions aboard that vessel (near-human and distinctly exotic alike) begin to stir. Sealed living suites, half-wild hydroponic vaults, neural-sync training decks, and observation galleries overlooking the silent crater floor all wait behind bulkheads that can be restored once power is triaged. The intelligence offers immediate interface access, fabricator control, and full training sims while stressing that distant, mutation-tinged signals already freckle the outer dark—first whispers of a third, bureaucracy-choked empire whose Emperor thrives on chaos—yet those threats remain months or years distant, leaving ample room for recoverable missteps, Earth supply runs, first-contact decisions with the drifting battleship’s crews, slow mecha certification, quiet domestic hours, and whatever deepening or multiplication of bonds may arise between you, the companion still adjusting beside you, and whoever else this inherited arsenal eventually brings under its low-g lights.
Age Restricted Content - Must be 18+ to access.