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Description
Over 2 billion souls. Hushed in a month. Echoed cries of pain and anguish lost in vacuum and in fire. Voices silenced, and souls forever lost, never to find their way home. The look of terror and panic forever frozen on the faces of the dead. Forever floating in their eternal grave. Never returned home. Lost looking for a way back. A constant reminder to the cost of war, yet a reminder often gone unremembered, or uncared for.
History, and the cycle repeat itself.

Man is eternally at war.

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For three weeks thousands of vessels waged an unending battle. Fighting to bring an end to a bloody war. Soldiers and sailors fighting to bring a quick end to the war so that they could go home to their families again. So that they could return to a normal life. It became known as one of the largest naval battles the free colonies had ever seen. Dreadnoughts, Battleships, Cruisers, and so on. The Empire made it's last bitter stand here, the break the wave of juggernauts that were the Staevik fleet. The numbers were fairly close. The Staevik armada pushed forward to crush the Azen Empires Naval might, and the Azen mustered a defensive, fighting over a rock in space.

A rock that would become their tomb.

Throughout the weeks of combat The Staevik navy would call command, requesting a withdrawal fearing the cost of victory far too great. A call that would fall on deaf ears and overconfident minds. This was it. The government was sure of it. This would be their finest hour and their moment to shine in the light for all of the colonies and Nations to see.

But when the final round was shot, and the last Imperial ship destroyed. There were so few left to be able to land on the planet. To liberate the now fortified world. The Navy was ordered to liberate the planet, and use it as a forward base for infantry operations. But who was left? What marine forces were capable? They couldn't do it. They wouldn't do it. Not another Staevik life to add to the meat grinder. The Admiral was dead, and a lower ranking of the Admiralty was in charge. A young Colonel Garborick was all that remained of Marine command. Having seen almost all of his men die trying to take the fortress moon surrounding the planet he knew there was nothing left for the main invasion. Emotion was what drove the command. Not logic. The Empire had killed everyone. And he would not let another one of his countrymen fall to the Empire. The next week was a constant barrage from orbit. Everything was expended. When missiles and bombs ran out, they started scavenging the hulls of dead vessels and using their ammunition. And when they became impatient, they just used a dead ship. The planet was purged of all life. Every last civilian. Shelters were hit until they cracked open and the flames scorched the insides. Nothing but dust and ash remained of what once was life. And with that, what remained of the vengeful Staevik armada left.

Markai marked the end of any ability of the Empire to wage an offensive, but it was the nail in the coffin for the Staevik Republic. The Massacre that ensued angered the population. It angered the military. And the survivors of the fleet came back horribly scarred, mentally and physically. Twice they would call upon the government for a ceasefire, and again, the government ignored. Ignoring everything about the massacre of Markai and still pushing forward. Ignoring the loss of manpower, they began to field those that would have normally been seen too young to fight. Becoming so caught up in what a victory would look like they never stopped to see what they were doing to their population. Never noticing the strife and hardship, the grief and sorrow that the conflict was leaving.

Markai was a tomb, yes. But it also was was marked the end for a Nation. The Staevik Republic truly died here, not after the war ended.

Thousands of ships still litter it's orbit. The dead left to their eternal slumber

-------------------------------------------

Some more on Markai:

I'd love to read what you have to think about this image!

Description
Over 2 billion souls. Hushed in a month. Echoed cries of pain and anguish lost in vacuum and in fire. Voices silenced, and souls forever lost, never to find their way home. The look of terror and panic forever frozen on the faces of the dead. Forever floating in their eternal grave. Never returned home. Lost looking for a way back. A constant reminder to the cost of war, yet a reminder often gone unremembered, or uncared for.
History, and the cycle repeat itself.

Man is eternally at war.

-------------------------------------------

For three weeks thousands of vessels waged an unending battle. Fighting to bring an end to a bloody war. Soldiers and sailors fighting to bring a quick end to the war so that they could go home to their families again. So that they could return to a normal life. It became known as one of the largest naval battles the free colonies had ever seen. Dreadnoughts, Battleships, Cruisers, and so on. The Empire made it's last bitter stand here, the break the wave of juggernauts that were the Staevik fleet. The numbers were fairly close. The Staevik armada pushed forward to crush the Azen Empires Naval might, and the Azen mustered a defensive, fighting over a rock in space.

A rock that would become their tomb.

Throughout the weeks of combat The Staevik navy would call command, requesting a withdrawal fearing the cost of victory far too great. A call that would fall on deaf ears and overconfident minds. This was it. The government was sure of it. This would be their finest hour and their moment to shine in the light for all of the colonies and Nations to see.

But when the final round was shot, and the last Imperial ship destroyed. There were so few left to be able to land on the planet. To liberate the now fortified world. The Navy was ordered to liberate the planet, and use it as a forward base for infantry operations. But who was left? What marine forces were capable? They couldn't do it. They wouldn't do it. Not another Staevik life to add to the meat grinder. The Admiral was dead, and a lower ranking of the Admiralty was in charge. A young Colonel Garborick was all that remained of Marine command. Having seen almost all of his men die trying to take the fortress moon surrounding the planet he knew there was nothing left for the main invasion. Emotion was what drove the command. Not logic. The Empire had killed everyone. And he would not let another one of his countrymen fall to the Empire. The next week was a constant barrage from orbit. Everything was expended. When missiles and bombs ran out, they started scavenging the hulls of dead vessels and using their ammunition. And when they became impatient, they just used a dead ship. The planet was purged of all life. Every last civilian. Shelters were hit until they cracked open and the flames scorched the insides. Nothing but dust and ash remained of what once was life. And with that, what remained of the vengeful Staevik armada left.

Markai marked the end of any ability of the Empire to wage an offensive, but it was the nail in the coffin for the Staevik Republic. The Massacre that ensued angered the population. It angered the military. And the survivors of the fleet came back horribly scarred, mentally and physically. Twice they would call upon the government for a ceasefire, and again, the government ignored. Ignoring everything about the massacre of Markai and still pushing forward. Ignoring the loss of manpower, they began to field those that would have normally been seen too young to fight. Becoming so caught up in what a victory would look like they never stopped to see what they were doing to their population. Never noticing the strife and hardship, the grief and sorrow that the conflict was leaving.

Markai was a tomb, yes. But it also was was marked the end for a Nation. The Staevik Republic truly died here, not after the war ended.

Thousands of ships still litter it's orbit. The dead left to their eternal slumber

-------------------------------------------

Some more on Markai:

I'd love to read what you have to think about this image!