The suns of Pegasi 51 b dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the barren landscape. In the twilight, a silent procession of cargo ships descended, their hulls emblazoned with no insignia, their origins a mystery. The rebels watched from their hidden encampments, eyes wide with a mixture of fear and anticipation.


For months, the military's iron grip had choked the life out of any opposition. Protests were met with brutal force, and the once vibrant streets of the capital were now lined with the remnants of defiance. But the winds were changing, and with them came the whispers of rebellion.


The cargo doors opened with a hiss, revealing crates upon crates of advanced weaponry. Laser rifles, plasma grenades, and even a few prototype mechs—tools of war that the rebels had never seen, let alone possessed. It was a game-changer; the scales of power could finally tip in their favour.


But the question that burned in every rebel's mind was as glaring as the weapons before them: who had sent these? And why?


Jax, the leader of the rebels, stepped forward. His face was a map of the struggles they had endured—lines of determination etched deep. He approached the mysterious figure who had accompanied the shipment, a being cloaked in garments that shimmered like the stars themselves.


"Who are you?" Jax demanded, his voice steady despite the pounding of his heart.


The figure lifted its hood, revealing not a face, but a visor reflecting the twin moons above. "A friend," came the modulated reply. "One who shares your desire for freedom—and has the means to help you achieve it."


The rebels gathered around, their spirits reignited. The fight was far from over, but for the first time in what felt like an eternity, hope was on their side.


As the night swallowed the last light of day, plans were made, and alliances forged. The battle for Pegasi 51 b was about to begin, and the galaxy would soon learn the might of those who fought for their home.