Old Glory Prologue 1

Isabella Martinez wasn’t anyone special. She worked night shifts as a research assistant for the North American Astronomical Survey, stationed at their newly commissioned deep space observatory tucked into the desert hills of northern Arizona. It was an isolated, dust-choked facility with more computers than people and often solitary, silent work.

Her job was routine: monitoring long-range sensor arrays, cataloging comet trails, mapping solar radiation levels, and submitting automated logs to a system that no one reviewed unless something went wrong. The machines around her blinked and hummed without emotion, constantly sifting through the infinite dark for anything worth noticing. Most nights passed in quiet tedium. She spent her hours alone with her thermos of herbal tea, the glow of monitors casting pale light over her tired face.

Despite the monotony, Isabella approached the job with steady diligence. She’d stopped hoping for excitement long ago. Like many in her field, she knew discovery was a slow and thankless process, measured in decimal shifts and statistical anomalies. She didn’t expect the stars to deliver her anything more than data.

But the stars weren’t what failed her. It was the dark between them.

On the morning of August 19th, 2067, at 2:37 a.m. an object was detected entering the solar system.

Her instruments picked up something massive skimming the edge of the solar system, a shadow gliding silently just beyond Pluto's orbit. At first, she assumed it was a calibration glitch. Then perhaps a comet, or a misidentified satellite echo. But the object held steady on every scope. It was unmistakably real.

It moved with a slow, deliberate momentum, as though aware of its own trajectory. What made it worse, what made the analysts run verification loops repeatedly, was its speed. The object traveled far faster than any known natural body. Its motion defied gravitational expectations, accelerating and decelerating in response to forces not fully understood.

Initial scans estimated it at over seven miles long, its form elongated and asymmetric. Whatever material coated its surface resisted every active sensor ping the observatory could throw at it. The data came back as blanks, or worse, noise. Directed pulses scattered uselessly from the radiation coming off the object. Radar returned with nothing but static, the signals absorbed into the aether. Its profile shimmered against thermal scans, unnaturally hot and cold in odd places, and when they tried to image it visually, the asteroid seemed to shift from one still to the next.

More troubling still was its reaction to gravity.  As it moved through space, it didn’t behave like any stellar object previously recorded, seemingly operating on it’s own physics. When passing planetary bodies or drifting near gravitational wells, its speed would change in subtle but undeniable ways. Sometimes it accelerated. Sometimes it slowed down. Never in a way that made sense. It was as if it responded to anything with a gravity well like curious child would a strange bug. 

When the data was processed, the truth was immediate and deeply unsettling. Every single model, simulation, and pathing projection, regardless of the assumptions fed into the system, produced the same dreadful result. Accounting for mass, velocity, solar drift, and every gravitational variable within reach, the conclusion was unwavering.

It was coming to Earth.

And it was not going to miss.

Once its trajectory was confirmed, the object received a designation. The Martinez-NAAS Object. Later, the press would call it the Martinez-NAAS Planetkiller.

Initial reaction among global leadership was to suppress the information and delay any public announcement. Only a select group of scientific, military, and aerospace personnel were allowed access to the details. Defense agencies convened to discuss theoretical impact mitigation. Asteroid deflection plans were reviewed and dismissed as unfeasible due to the sheer size and speed of the object. Within a month, engineers were proposing space-based nuclear interception strategies. Others advocated for the construction of orbital kinetic railgun arrays. None of the proposals made it beyond the planning stage.

Then the whistleblower struck. The full trajectory data, timelines, and internal government assessments were released onto the global net. Within forty-eight hours, social cohesion collapsed in many countries.

Riots erupted in major cities across North America, Europe, and Asia. Supermarkets were looted, fuel stations destroyed, and infrastructure overwhelmed. Emergency services faltered almost immediately, as both personnel and resources were either diverted or exhausted. Local governments failed to maintain control, and in many areas, power shifted to armed civilians, criminal networks, or ad hoc militias. In the United States, federal authorities were caught flat-footed. Police stations were abandoned or overtaken. Fires raged through the suburbs. Citizens no longer waited for instruction. They acted on fear.

Ironically, countries with more authoritarian predilections experienced less immediate unrest. China, North Korea, and several Eastern European nations responded with swift and brutal crackdowns. Public gatherings were banned. Communications were censored. Mass detentions began within days. These nations did not suffer societal collapse in the same way, but they faced different problems. The global order had fractured, and diplomacy no longer mattered. Long-standing disputes over territory and resources reignited overnight.

Nowhere was this more evident than in South Asia. India, Pakistan, and China found themselves competing for strategic control over the Himalayan range. The mountains represented one of the few defensible zones on the planet with sufficient elevation, geological stability, and subterranean space for shelter construction. All three powers moved quickly. Skirmishes turned into full-scale warfare. Limited nuclear exchanges took place within the first three months. Radiation spread through the region. Almost a billion lives were lost, and much of the land became uninhabitable.

Other regions fared no better. South America devolved into fragmented war zones. The collapse of power grids and water systems led to mass displacement and famine. Drug cartels and militant groups seized territory, forming microstates that answered to no central authority. Disease spread unchecked. Brazil fractured into four separate governments. Argentina lost control of its southern provinces. In the north, Venezuela’s government collapsed entirely, its last broadcast declaring martial law before the lights went out.

In North America, the situation grew desperate. Canada’s western provinces declared a regional emergency, and Alberta sealed its borders. In Mexico, the cartels toppled the federal government. Amidst growing instability, the United States launched a full-scale annexation of northern Mexico, citing national security and continuity of governance. Major American cities fell under the protection of rapidly organized, government-sanctioned militia groups. The National Guard mobilized to retake lost territory block by block. Volunteers were issued weapons and authority. Civil courts were suspended. Summary justice became the norm.

Europe reeled as the Russian Federation launched a new campaign of aggression, targeting the oil fields of the Middle East and the agricultural zones of Eastern Europe. Tactical nuclear weapons were employed in multiple engagements. Civilian populations fled en masse, overwhelming the remaining defense lines. The European Union fractured. France recalled its troops. Germany shut its borders. Italy declared neutrality and was immediately invaded. Without the United States, NATO ceased to function.

Africa, already shaped by generations of regional conflict, saw less immediate upheaval. Rebel groups in the Democratic Republic of Congo and South Sudan used the chaos as an opportunity to expand their territory. Ethnic violence surged. Military juntas seized power in several West African nations. In East Africa, political leaders fled into exile. War crimes became common. The global response was muted. There were no resources left to intervene.

By the start of 2068, the world no longer resembled itself. The interlinked trade networks that once supported billions were gone. Massive land grabs turned food-producing regions into militarized zones. Crops were nationalized. Maritime shipping ground to a halt. Without foreign imports, many nations faced starvation. Stockpiles were raided. Wealthy enclaves retreated into fortress communities.

Governments turned inward, prioritizing survival above all else. Under emergency powers, corporations were seized and repurposed. Defense contractors became infrastructure arms. Tech conglomerates were absorbed into national cyber-command networks. Their algorithms were no longer used for consumer prediction, but for civil surveillance and urban pacification. Automated production was retooled for bunker components, filtration systems, and stasis housing.

Global construction efforts began on what the press called "time capsules." These were not symbolic memorials. They were massive underground installations built with hardened materials and redundant life support systems. Their purpose was simple: preserve as many immune individuals as possible and house the knowledge and tools needed to rebuild civilization from nothing.

Several attempts were made to expand lunar facilities. The moon base, established in 2054, had been modest; scientific in nature, with limited habitation. Now it was expanded with emergency funding and conscript labor. Refugee scientists, engineers, and political elites were transferred via hastily manufactured spaceplanes. Progress was slow. The cost in lives and material was high.

By the end of 2069, the object was clearly visible in the night sky. It was no longer a specter hidden in spreadsheets and sensor logs. It loomed overhead, a black streak across the stars. Children pointed at it. News anchors wept. Religious leaders called for repentance. Cities broadcast final messages. Nothing could be done.

And then, without warning, the object began to decelerate. It did not burn. It did not fragment. Its velocity decreased with mathematical precision.

The Martinez-NAAS Planetkiller was slowing down.