One small spark and the whole thing goes up in flames.
The tinderbox, in this case, is a mining operation in some forgotten region of New Eden. Mining barges feeding their bounties into the gaping maw of an Orca, like worker drones bound to the will of their queen. A profitable venture, but not one without risk. A scout is spotted, but it is too late. The scout is not alone; a swarm of hostiles is not far behind. The mining barges flee in terror, leaving the mothership to her fate.
A response is rallied, alarms raised, aid called for in desperation. The slumbering giant awakens and soon this quiet system is the center of a raging storm, fire and shrapnel and death, the twisted remains of the Orca devoured in an ocean of metal and flesh. The attackers bring reinforcements too—motivated by profit, or vengeance, or honour, or simply for the sake of carnage—all pouring into this system like an endless tidal wave of murder and bloodshed with both sides committing more and more—more metal, more bodies—thrown into the grinder, gambling it all on the hope their enemy will break and rout.
Neither side remembers why they fight, yet they continue.
In the midst of this orgy of violence, a lone cruiser wielding power from the heavens arrives. In an instant, the fabric of reality is torn asunder, a tunnel to some dark and unspoken place that none dare name, for fear its mere utterance will draw its attention and wrath and drag them in. From this abyss, this violation of space and time, comes a ship so colossal it dwarfs all others, its mere presence a shockwave through the battlefield. A monstrosity. A juggernaut. A Titan.
The inferno is raging and it will not stop.