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“Here in the Transpace Guard, when faced when a problem of this magnitude, we usually call up our best and brightest minds, the most elite of elite troops, the most powerful casters and godlings we can muster, and set them to work finding out the cause of this disaster and fixing it.”
“In my case, all we have is you. It'll have to do, I guess. There are just shy of a million things that can go wrong and cause distortions in time-space, but lucky for you, there are only just shy of a hundred things that can cause distortions THIS GODDAMN BIG.” Holtz takes a long draw off his cigar, blowing the smoke on a wall-mounted portrait of an old man in uniform.
“The facts as we know them, are simple. As of three hundred hours local time today, a massive distortion in space-time pretty much tore open the fabric of reality in 94% of the universes that fall into our patrol zone. Prior to that, things were pretty quiet, nothing set off any alarms. We're pulling the logs from the database now if you want to look at them. After the distortion, which we've taken to calling the Event, we've detected over 9,321 bridgeways forming between worlds that should not have them, and the number keeps going higher.” Holtz takes another cigar draw, looking pained. “What's more, we're registering time-compression, expansion, and just all sorts of general shenanigans in transpace between those universes. Our home-system's reality stabilizers are keeping us shielded and your ship should be the same... but it doesn't bode well for the situation. We've lost contact with most of our allies, offworld branches, units in the field, and... well, everything EXCEPT an observation base, Sky-Eye Thirteen. And from them, we're only getting a weak distress signal.”