It all happened very suddenly. One day, the outpost gets news of at least three different coups in the Galactic Federation, then the next day there is only hyperlink silence. Comms were cut off with the Feds and people scrambled in a panic.

Helian Beta, your home, was the only populated planet in this star system, under the authority of Sector Xin’an. It’s a liveable planet, though far warmer and arid than most other liveable planets, many of the people living here would barely consider that the moniker “liveable” is at all deserved.

Still, humans can breathe here, so they can also work here. Mining outposts were established all around the planet’s largest continent, Continent Alpha, which was itself surrounded by various subcontinents and islands, the whole set of land was then surrounded by the Helian Beta Ocean, which covered the rest of the planet.

Life was good enough in your little outpost, Gaspost V, the dreariest part was living in the planet itself. Mining work was mostly done through advanced machines, but the workers had to supervise them, so miners still felt like miners, they got just as dirty as the equipment did after all. The outpost was in charge of digging into a source of gas that could be used as fuel, heating and electric appliances after refinement.

You are the Syndical Leader of Redstone V, in charge of ensuring the rights of the miners. Your name is Alexander Redstone.

It’s only been a few days since the comms cut. Everyone expected them to return after a bit, but they didn’t. Much as you prod the hyperlink station and checked frequencies, you still got nothing. You puff from your cigarette and let out the smoke with an irritated puff.

It’s really that bad, isn’t it? You’d been syndical leader for five years, you just got the hang of the job a few months ago. Everything was going well, you’d get comfy, finally take the time to find a partner, get some kids going, enjoy life as best you can.

Now this. You take a big puff and finish off that cig, then smash it into the ash tray by the hyperlink station.

“Alex, it’s about time we did something.” You hear the voice of your assistant, miss Ivy Fielder, as she enters the room with her usual pristine uniform. A young lady with a diligent mindset and an ambitious streak. She’s your second-in-command, but she’d probably climb much higher in the ladder than you. Still, it seems her ambitions were dashed now.

“It is.” You reply, then let out a long sigh. You look out the window from your Gaspost V Administrative Building office. The outpost is quiet, most of the townsfolk have gone off to work the mines one more day, their kids in school. The buildings rise out of windswept drylands, as does the outpost’s outer wall, built to keep wild critters out and wild children in.

You watch as whirlwinds of sand and dust rise from the pavement below. Could it really happen this fast? To lose contact with the entire federation in just a few days? Is there even a federation anymore?