The Imperialis it was called in Galactic. It had served as a loyal
ship of the line until the day when the captain and crew had witnessed
one too many massacres, one too many cleansings in the name of Galatic
power. Might made right, and the Galactics had the might. That day,
the Imperialis turned against its own bretheren. Three Galactic
Cruisers were destroyed that day. The mutiny alone would have caused
others to hunt those they considered traitors to the mighty Galactic
Empire. But the warlords did not, and could not countenance the
destruction of the symbols of Galactic Might. A full scale pursuit was
ordered, and the Imperialis fought bravely for its very existence. Ion
beams had ripped away several sections of its superstructure, space to
space missles had blasted jagged holes in the hull, opening several
compartments up to the inky blackness of deep space.

The Imperialis would sail the star lanes no more, but they had denied
their enemy the trophy of watching them die. Inside the bridge of the
ship, chaos reigned. Damage Crews of a hundred different species raced
back and forth, feverishly patching systems that should have died long
ago, desperately trying to give their ship time enough to survive. The
captain stood emotionless at the head of the bridge, as reports of the
dead and the dying continued to pour in. Inwardly, the Captain cursed
fate, and those who considered themselves masters of fate. The
Galactic Empire had killed his ship. Just like it had killed his
family and loved ones when they ordered his homeworld scorched beacuse
according to official channels, it harbored "subversive elements". To
the Galactic Empire, any system that did not show complete and utter
loyalty from all of it's subjects was to be cleansed. For the actions
of a few, hundreds of millions died, as did their world.

The second officer grabbed a report from a technician and glanced at
the pad as it flashed several quick pages of information. His damp
skin whitened as he read the news and he got the attention of the
captain. "Captain, the Damage Control team has reported from the Core
Engine Room. They say that.." his voice failed him, as he tried to
comprehend the level of the trouble their ship was in. "They say that
the Engines are on their last legs. In less then ten quiharks, they
will explode. The only question is if it will take us with it."

The Captain scanned the report quickly, mind running through hundreds
of possible ways that he could coax his ship to live. But the
Imperialis was in it's death throes. He quickly settled on a plan of
action. His plan would deny the cursed Galactics their trophy. Maybe
some day, somehow, they would be avenged. "Chief Navigator, set course
for the inhabited planet in this system. Run the engines as fast as
you can, Only jettison them when the situation goes critical. We will
make a crash landing on the planet, and hope that the natives don't
mind the interruption."

Some level of Galactic training still gripped the crew, and it took a
few seconds for the crew to absorb their captain's words. Land a
Kriash class starship on an Interdicted planet? But their faith in
their captain was too great, and they did as ordered. The ship
ponderously changed its facing to point directly at the blue planet,
and the great engines fired once more, as if trying to hold its death
at bay.

Even the sounds of the damage control teams seemed to fade away, as
the Captian studied a computer schematic of the engines, as more
faults were reported the closer the ship got to the planet. Just a
little more, he urged the straining engines silently. When he was sure
that the ship's momentum would be enough to carry them to the planet,
he snapped an order out to the engineering station. "Jettison
Engines... NOW!"

Explosive couplings detonated and fired off the now wildly
malfunctioning engines away from the ship as it continued to drift
away. The ship had barely reached the edge of the safety zone when the
engines exploded with a white flash that seemed to go on forever. The
Captain shook his head. Well, there was no going back now. The gamble
had been made, now the price had to be paid. The ship started to buck
as it tasted the atmosphere of the planet. Kriash class battleships
were never truly meant to fly within the gravity well of a planet, but
expert piloting kept the ship  from plummeting. As a chain of islands
appeared in the ships view-window, the Captain had enough time to
order all hands to brace themselves as the ship settled into the
waters of its new home. Even with the warning, many were killed as the
ship bounced into the water, before splashing down safely. 

The Captain knew he would have to find a way to try to disguise his
ship. The natives could not be given such power without first knowing
that it would not be the seedings of a new, if smaller Empire. Great
dredgers were ordered to suck the mud right off the sea bottom, only
to cover the hull of the ship to a great depth. He only hoped that he
was right, and the people of the planet would and could be trusted
someday with fufilling the dreams of those who had died, and those who
would die in the near future. There would be no breeding here.
Galactic nano-biotechnology had provided them with that mixed gift.
Those who proved useful had the process reversed, and were allowed to
bear offspring. Those who failed had their line end with them. The
Galactics controlled who would breed, and when. None among them had
recieved that gift.

He had one final order for the few hundreds of beings remaining alive
on his ship. He ordered all crewmen to place their memories in the
shipboard computer. They might die, but they would not be forgotten.
Some day, some how, someone would find them. And with the right
coaxing, avenge them. Until then, maybe those who found the ship would
put it to good use.

Tomoe Akira fought the controls of his Zero as he headed out on a
recon over his assigned patrol section. There had been some weird
reports of radar failure in the area, and his plane was tasked with
patrolling the area.The problems were reported in a series of small
uninhabited islands off of the coast. Right after the strange failure
of radar, a small but powerful typhoon had struck the coast. Weather
forecasters were at a loss to try to explain what could have caused
the weather, as no one had reported such weather in the days before.

Akira frowned as he surveyed the small islands. Could it have been
some American trick? With the war raging in the Pacific, the problems
could have been the much rumoured invasion of Nippon that America had
been making noise about. He grimaced as he checked his map. He could
have sworn that there was one less island then there was, even the map
he carried in his cockpit said that there was one more island  before
him then there was on his map. Eh, to the Emperor with the dammed
mapmakers, and their foulups! Convinced that nothing more then a
cartographer's error had taken place, he turned his Zero to return to
base, cursing the Fortunes for sending him on a wild goose chase.

Many years passed before the natives returned to the area. In that
time, the population still aboard the Imperialis dwindled to a very
few. No one failed to transfer memories to the computer before they
expired, however. The Captain was gratified, as he considered his dead
ship and dying crew. Death be not proud, the Captain thought to
himself, unconsciously echoing a poet on the planet they had just
landed on. The Imperialis may be dead, but her fight still lingers on.
That was his last thought as he handed full control over to the
computer, prior to his passing, years later.

Today, no one truly knows what lies underneath the island. No one
could understand it even if they knew. But space was at a premium, and
a wealthy Japanese family bought the island, and turned it into a
family retreat, to provide a place away from the busy world, never
knowing what truly lay underneath their feet. As those with more
wealth and pride then common sense are loathe to do, they named the
island after themselves.

They called it Kuno Island. And that's where our story truly begins.

There is No Lumber Cartel..And I am NOT Member #01538

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