Earth has fallen.
The space charts to our ancestral home buried in the stars that filled us with hope.
We now live as a species without sanctuary, our race condemned to roam space without a place to call home.
Traders, raiders, beggars, mercenaries, the best are humans because they own no loyalty but to the coin.
And then there were the so called sundancers, the freelancers from the now forgotten Sun System where the humans came from, who would take any job no matter the risk.
That was until one of them found an old archeo-chart, a rudimentary artifact of early space age that showed an incomplete image of the galaxy. But what was there was a partial coordinate of their home.
The news spread like a silent wildfire, every trading post warehouse, mercenary outpost, pirate base, everytime a human met another they shared the discovery.
Nobody saw it until the first cry broke the silence, two groups of Sundancers faced against each other decided to turn their guns to their bosses, rumors say they said “The blood of the earth is worth more than any coin” before being executed for treason against their employers. Seen as an isolated incident by others, the deeds were more kindle to the fire of mankind across the galaxy.
And then, the humans silently and steadily rose up to the stars. Families who settled agriworlds for generations left the safety of their world to join The Human Flotilla. First the traders, then the workers and finally the criminals, all had a birthright and a place in the flotilla if they decided to take it.
And before any empire could do anything, a sea of spaceships roamed the stars with a single purpose, find our home.
The Earthblood calls…