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Temporary High Captain Garrion Retoe paced back and forth in front of the smirking Phylydion rebel in a metal chair whom they had managed to capture alive. The others had killed themselves before the ship was boarded. Although Garrion was quite good at commanding ships and the men and women that ran them, his training was that of an elite PhylSec agent, and that training included interrogation. He spoke frankly with a hiss in his voice, punctuating certain words every so often for effect.
"You are now my property, and mine alone. You are no longer a true entity. IF I were to use you as my personal slave, the very government that freed our entire race from slavery would not stop me, and might even encourage me. You are mine, but anything the crew does to you is not my problem, and will MOST definitely be yours. The miserable, short flicker of time once known as your life is now meaningless and may end at any time. I control you, I command you, I decide your fate, and if at any time you so much as BREATHE in a way that I find displeasing, I will terminate your pathetic existence. And don't worry, you won't die immediately, although you will immediately wish you had. I am not kind in my killing of traitors." He waited a few moments for this to sink in.
"If you answer my questions truthfully, and I CAN tell if you are, I will give you many times more kindness than you slimy rebel filth deserve. In other words, any at all. I may even free you to live your life on one of the core planets- appropriately monitored, of course. What do you say?" The rebel remained silent, but the smirk had disappeared from his face. He looked at Garrion, not saying anything and clearly stating that he would not. Garrion smiled, approached, balled his right hand into a fist, and backhanded the man across his face. The man and chair were lifted into the air and the chair, with the rebel strapped in, fell on its back. The man's hands, tied behind the chair, were crushed under his own weight. He gritted his teeth and tried to roll over. Garrion held him in place.
"I will give you one day FROM this second to decide." Garrion walked out of the room and the door closed. The rebel rolled over, freeing his hands from the chair's weight, and breathed heavily. Outside, two guards stood next to the door and two stood along the wall opposite it. There was also one in the cell with him. He laid his head on the metal floor, and tried to sleep in the rediculous position he was in.
"The DGA frontier that the UNS shares with the Cantharans has been settled at the 34th radii. Even after the wars, the Cantharans were willing to let us run jumpstreams through their space. Needless to say, this is somewhat of a grey area, as not everybody even agrees that is exists. However, with the DGA growing in power, it is becoming less and less clear that our jumpgates will be allowed to project streams to Ishiman space. In fact, they have been useing that as a threat to impose treaties upon us. The Ishimians are once again showing their pacifism and are hoping for a diplomatic solution. They even have plans for a jumgate that can push the streams around Cantharan Space. Congress is split. Half of them want us to go with the costly jumpgate, and take away the Cantharan bargaining chip,but the thing costs swice our total budget for a year. The others want to declare war, and cut a new free trade zone out of the Cantharans. Half of those guys are the old Ares fighters, now old politicians. They say they did it once, and we can do it again. I don't want to pull the DGA down on top of us. I've been pushing for a bigger, more advanced military, and we're getting better. Unfortunately, despite our newest ship designs, and some technological aid from the Ishimans and Elejee, we still couldn't take on the entire DGA as it is now. And lately, the golden dawn has been bombing more and more of our colonies, and we still can't seem to figure out who's behind the terrorist attacks. I'm worried about leaks in our intelligence agencies, so I want you to do some scouting for me. I know that the Andalusa is well reckognised, but I also know that was never an issue with the Barbarossa before, so I want you to go and check out any DGA controlled shipyard that would be capable of putting out a vindicative without our scanners picking it up. I understand that this could take a while, and could take a while, so I'm going to leave two million credits in an anonymous Gaitori bank account, number X-092836-2387-1029; 398092. These are clean UNS credits from the State Department's laundered accounts. Use them well. Your explicit directions should be waiting for you in the emergency survival pouch under your seat. Turn the handle clockwise before opening them, I wouldn't want you to explode. If you don't accept, open locker 147 in terminal four when you dock at Trident. Otherwise, send reports to the PO box of Aaron Johnes at Utopia Planetalia. Good luck Captain.
The President's face dissapeared off of the screen, and a puff of smoke came out of the back, followed by the strong smell of melted plastic. Pharris puffed the cigar harder, to mask the smoke. Of course, he politely put it out when the flight attendant came up the aisle, and waited for her to disappear, before he pulled the "Body bag" sytle emergency pressure pouch out from under his seat. He twisted the handle clockwise, and pulled. Inside were several flash roms, as well as what looked like a pound of plastic explosives hooked up to the handle. Pharris deactivated the detonator, just to be safe, and replaced the pouch under the seat. He pocketed the flash roms, and settled back in his chair. To accept, or not to accept...
------------------
(This message has been edited by Slug (edited 12-09-2000).)
Communiqué From: Phylydion High Octicate To: Salrilian Government
The Phylydion Empire announces its intention to move to the aid of the beleagered Arliacian nation. We shall protect the Verasi artifacts from the terrorist organisation known as the Order of the Golden Dawn , and cordially request that you refrain from negative involvement in this situation.
--------------------
Communiqué From: Verad, Salrilian Auspex To: Phylydion High Octicate
While we congratulate you on your eagerness to assist a fledgling race, the Divine Galactic Axis cannot sanction what constitutes a barely covered invasion effort. The Arliacian nation must request assistance from its benefactors before they can enter its territory with the military forces required to fend off the Order of the Golden Dawn. I propose a meeting with Arliacian representatives to appraise them of the situation and allow them to choose their assistance as they wish.
Communiqué From: Phylydion High Octicate To: Verad, Salrilian Auspex
The results of the Arliacian Conference were inconclusive and misguided. Such a young race cannot be fully aware of the Galactic situation, and the merits and flaws of their decisions. For that reason, we move that the findings of the Conference be rendered void, and Phylydion assistance be implemented in aid to the Arliacian Nation.
The decisions reached by the Arliacian Conference were neither inconclusive nor misguided. Sufficient council was made availible from the Bazidanese to the Arliacian Nation that they could select the assistance best for them. We regrettably deny your call to assist in the situation. Our aid is being prepared as I write, and will be despatched shortly.
We regret that your decisions force us to take such precipitous action, but you leave us no choice. Our vessels are now entering Arliacian space to secure the Verasi Artifacts against the depredations of the Order of the Golden Dawn.
(This message has been edited by Sundered Angel (edited 12-11-2000).)
Dr. Alice Rogers hated getting contracts for work. Archeology work for a backward outfit like the University of Earth was hard enough to find. The real problem was that half of it was from people seeking not knowledge but advantage. Pirates looking for lost treasure ships, military people looking for ancient superweapons, she had dealt with them all. She'd even once traded fire with some particularly vicious pirates. She felt that if she didn't stop herself, she'd turn into a rogue herself.
So, when the call came in that a foriegn contractor wanted her to work for them, she approached the director's office with a feeling of aprehension. She took her seat, and he was already in his. His face seemed remarkably pleasent. The glow of credits, she thought. That set alarm bells ringing. Only pirate overlords or military kooks would spend that much to find something.
"Greetings, Alice."
"Greetings, sir."
"I hear your group has been in need of funds."
"I suppose a few credits wouldn't hurt us."
"I've got a contract for you from Governor Darkk, of the Nijayias. He wants you to look for some ruins of the 1st Nijayias Empire."
"Darkk? I never thought him for the knowledge-for-the-sake-of-knowledge type."
"I don't know if he is or not. All I know is he's providing a ship, equipment, and our entire UNS buget allotment in fees, plus expenses, plus hazard pay 'as needed'."
"Hazard pay 'as needed'?"
"I couldn't get anything out of him. I guess he think's there's pirates in that area. Look at the ship he gave us - latest in their fleet, hot off the line. Barrage Destroyer Lifarla, named after a former Empress."
Well, "What could go wrong?", Alice thought. "I'll take it."
------------------ Error: target is violating the laws of physics Error: target is locally exceeding c Error: unable to determine if target exists or not Error: target cannot be hit
Tćskor Myrmidus darted down the hallway of the shattered base in terror with all the amazing speed his Phylydion-trined body would pump out, the shadow creatures pursuing with a ferocity and hunger unseen.
In the weeks following their arrival, the Shadow Aliens had attacked and destroyed the Elejeetian Colony, infesting the planet with their ever-growing swarms. Myrmidus ahd landed on the planet merely a few hours ago, but it felt like years from the sheer terror.
Images from his worst childhood nightmares seemed to come true in the worst ways possible. Blood! Death! All around him! All alone! Hopeless! Swirling terror! He tossed his knife at the shadow creature and for a moment there was a relief from the terror as it evaporated in death. These creatures sure had a funny way of dying.
Several more lept from a ledge where an entire squadron of freshly-slain Elejeetian corpses lay. He juggled his blades in the air, distracting the nightmares witht heir glint. Suddenly his right arm shot forward and several of the blades darted out, finding their targets. He continued to flee in terror as the creatures pursued nightmarishly.
Nearly there! He could see his ship floating in midair with it's hatch lowered, ready for him to leap aboard. He bounced off the wall and summersaulted onto the ramp. It immediately closed and the ship started it's programmed ascent.
Several of the creatures lept onto the hull with their powerfull legs, and proceeded to chew away at the metal with the worst things imaginable. The force-field generators flashed and all the creatures fell off surely to plummet to their deaths half a mile below. Myrmidus watched in horror, however, when after impact, they got up and continued to move, sprinting accross the burning fields.
As Myrmidus' ship began leaving orbit, he could see the massive Elejeetian vessels that had entered the system head for the planet, bombarding it with the intent of exterminating the aliens. As the planet was gradually reduced to a charred lifeless rock, Myrmidus' intercepter managed to escape the system unnoticed.
Tćskor Myrmidus stirred. The horrifying experience had left him emotionally scarred, evern for a Grand Tćskor. The Dominus Military Council would find his report to be bordering on insanity. He had experienced an uncontained terror of indescribable levels.
He watched the planet devastated, and drew some comfort from it, but he knew the threat had advanced too far to be merely contained now. They would be back. He knew it.
Nine hooded Salrilian figures slid from their corners into a ring in the center of the darkly-lit cathedral-like room. They wore black cloaks, allowing only their slightly glowing eyes to peek through.
" The Prophicies have come true. " " Indeed. After all the milleniae, the Dark have risen again. " " They shall destroy us all. " " Elejee claims to have destroyed the Dark. " " The fools. " " Nothing can contain the Dark once it has risen. " " They may have risen, yet they have not fully fulfilled the prophecy. " " They have not yet resurrected the great leader. " " They should not be allowed to. " " How? Many great leaders have fallen over the past milleniae. " " But we have terminated them. They may not be resurrected. " " Save one. " " He did not die as one would imagine. " " Indeed. We need to take action. " " We should close the rift in the Hatares Sector. "
They spoke as one voice, their descision reached. " Agreed. "
Drion Nerec had been up for nearly two days doing both an expository on the Order of The Golden Dawn and "protocol" for the upcoming Arliacian intervention. Not that he would have been able to sleep anyway; that attempted assassination shook him to the bone. In all his years he had many attempted assassinations on him and had been able to shake them off in a matter of minutes but this recent one had done spmething to him. For the first time since he was a child he had been genuinely terrified. Why? He was the Phylydion Military Octicate - he isn't supposed to feel anything like that.
Too much distraction. His ind needed a break. He rubbed the soreness from his eyes and leaned back into one of the most relaxing moments he felt all week; he had been leaning over his work for countles hours and a break was well deserved.
BUZZ!!!
Appearently the break would be short-lived.
"What is it?" Nerec groaned.
A humbled voice came over the speaker: "Forgive my interruption, your reverence, but General Nistás requests your presence at the Plaza immediately."
Nerec hated Nistás with a passion. He saw him as a young brown-nosing upstart with no drive but his lust for power. He had tried more than once to secure the position of Military Octicate, but was still fecesiously polite and obediant toward Nerec.
"Nistás can go **** himself" is what Nerec would normally have replied, but since Nistás was heading up investigation on the Golden Dawn it was probably important. "Inform him that I will be there shortly" he barked.
"Yes, sir."
Nerec used all the strength he could muster to drag himself out of the chair and crept toward the sink. The mirror said everything. Drion Nerec has one of those faces that never seems to age. Equally, his personality has always had a seemingly eternal youth. But he was aging nonetheless. Andthe mirror showed this. The plethora of strees and insomnia were making his face show his true age. And furthermore, he felt old. His hair had greyed many decades ago, but was now begining to turn white. Outwardly, and to Phylydion culture, this was a sign of honour and dignity, which indeed Nerec had earned. But to himself it was another step on his ever shortening road to obselescence.
Once again he was letting his thoughts get to him. He washed up and prepared to meet with Nistás.
----------
Sargatanus had been in the same position in the same large dark room for nearly a day. Any normal homonid would have been in utter agony if they stayed in the pseudo-yogic pose for any more than a few minutes. But between the initial Salrilian augmentation and several "revisions" the Verasi artifact had made to his design. Sargatanus had been altered to the point where he was human (and organic) only in appearence. This pose was his latest demonstration to himself. It was different , it was better , and it was beyond the capacity of a normal human. It proved his advancement from the "primative" form and his superiority over it. He relished in every moment of it. Yet he would be sick and indifferent to it by tommarow; it wouldn't be new then. He would be less than perfect to attempt to humor himself with it a second time.
All the time he had been processing the information on the Golden Dawn via his direct link with the Oracular Net. All the circumstances and evidence seemed to paint a clear picture that it was a disguise for Phylydion covert action. He also had a plan in motion, and it would make the Imperium pay dearly.
The doors opened and flooded the room with light and a slender Cantharan figure seemed to hover into the room. Sargatanus returned to a standing position and descended the stair to greet it.
"Your eminance, we are ready to proceed to the second phase." Cal Sev said with his ideosyncratic slight bow.
Sargatanus simply grinned. "I trust it is time for my communication then?" He said rhetorically.
Cal Sev nodded. "We suspect that they are just now begining to realize the peril they are about to put themselves in. Now would be the most opportune time."
"Very well. Oh, and arrange a 'proposition' for the Elejeetians in the near future."
PRIORITY ONE COMMUNIQUÉ From : Sargatanus, Salrilian Haruspex, Divine Galactic Axis Premier To : Phylydion High Octicate
You clearly have not thought out your actions. You are jeopardizing not only your fleets being sent to Arliac, but the very peace and stability of the galaxy itself. We have reason to believe that the Order of the Golden Dawn is little more than a well hidden group of terrorists and have no means of obtaining the artifact on Verasi. But I doubt this will sway you. So I propose this: Instead of a conflict with potentially galaxy-wide reprecussions, we discuss the matter with the Arliacian Nation in person. You will find diplomacy a much more suitable recourse than military intervention.
------------------ Throughout their history these "unenlightened" beings have continually opposed and fought abuses of power wrought by their own bretheren. We, as the prophets would do well to learn from these Humans. -Final statement of the Salrilian reformist Sirthis shortly before his execution.
REPLY: To Haruspex Sargatanus of the DGA From Drion Nerec, Military Octicate and honored member of the High Octicon
We will of course grant your request. Much thinking and arguing will undoubtedly be necessary before this issue is resolved. Simply name a date and we will arrange a meeting.
Traek Cicion stood before an assembled group of fifty Pure Taeskors. They were all in perfect formation, faces up, eyes locked, completely still and silent, not one swish of a blue cape. The group was standing in a small room deep under Dominus soil. Cicion spoke clearly to them. "Two months ago, Octicate Nerec ordered me to assemble a group of Pure Taeskors who met the following specefications: Top eyesight, top hearing, top strength, top agility, top intelligence, top courage, and most important of all, those who have shown some skill in Impact Kinetics. I am going to train you in this ancient art, and those of you who show the most skill after I do will join a new corps- the Pure Taeskor Rangers. We will be the new elite arm of the High Octicon, and we will be the first strike on any new enemy discovered that we would rather not fight conventionally. We will combat the new threat of these odd 'Shadow Creatures' and may be assigned to infiltrate the DGA. Perhaps twenty-five or thirty of you will make it. If you do, you will earn a red cape and even more respect than you possessed previously. Good luck to all of you."
------------------ -Traek Cicion of the Taeskor "Never tell me the odds!" -Han Solo "Then we'll do it real quiet-like."
Alice entered the Lifarla and immediatly noticed something was wrong. The first concious clue was that every last person aboard had a lepton rifle strapped to their back. That they acted like it wasn't unusual for naval personel to cary heavy rifles around was the second clue. There didn't seem to be any reason. That was the third clue.
"Where will my team have their quarters?" she asked the captain, Kharadd. "In the left-area officer's block. We have spare quarters for passengers there." he replied. "All right. Where's the equipment?" "Cargo hold 2."
In cargo hold 2 was a shock. All the most modern equipment an archeology team could ask for was there. That wasn't a shock in and of itself, for the military had a much bigger budget than a university. The big shock was the large, lead-lined empty crates and the radiation suits. It appeared this was a "superweapon retreval" mission.
But that in and of itself was contradictory. No known rumors (and she had heard them all) indicated any good weapondry was developed or used by the 1st Nijayias Empire. In fact, they had a remarkably small and poorly-equiped military for an empire of their size and duration.
An officer entered. "We're about to leave for the Thingle system at maximum omnispace. Suggest your hit your quarters and strap in." "Thanks."
This assignment was seeming funnier everytime she turned. Now she was commited. "What the ******* **** does Darkk want with old has-been millitary tech?" she thought as she walked to her quarters.
"Scans in."
"Nav, find us a vector. Helm, get us out."
The Andalusa was in hyperspace before the fighters could get within visual range, leaving the wreckage of two cruisers and a gunship behind, along with a heavy jamming pod.
"That was pretty clean. ECM, how'd we do? They scanned us, but not much could have gotten through the jamming, and those fighters were way too far out to get a good look at us."
"Good, what about the shipyards?"
"Nothing is missing. It matches the UNS report. I don't know about ships in the field, but everything that's supposed to be there is there. Nothing Unusual"
"Just like every other one we've visited. Damn..."
"Maybe no news is good news. I don't think that the Axis is behind the Golden Dawn anyway, I mean the golden dawn nuked Slug's statue, why would the Sals do stuff like that?"
"They didn't like Slug anyway, he was exiled, remember? It wouldn't be the first or the last time they ****ed themselves over to trick somebody."
"Are you nuts? It was the Auspexes who banished him. If they hadn't told people he was dead, half the Navy would have left to find him. You should listen to the Sal's Talk Shows more often. There is huge public outcry, Admirals had pledged their fleets to the effort to avenge the desecration of the monument. Not that they really have done anything yet, but the will is there."
"Then where the hell did they get a Battleship? You can't build those just anywhere. News would be all over the underground"
"You managed to keep this thing quiet pretty easily."
"Yeah, but we had government aid. You can hardly build a fighter in private shipyards without word getting around, and you want me to believe that a private shipyard someplace built a Battlecruiser and nobody leaked!? Get out of here."
"Well if they don't have government aid, then they must have to have their own shipyards in orbit somewhere."
"There are definitely places to hide that kind of equipment, and if its the Golden dawn owned and operated, then those fanatics probably know how to keep quiet."
Pharris sighed. He was tired. In the past four days they had been in and out of hyperspace more than a hundred times, checking on every known and suspected Cantharaan and Salrillian shipyards, dropping in just inside of sensor range, scanning, and jumping out. It was tedious and tiring, as well as risky, more then once they had dropped in on patrols of cruisers, and had to fight their way out. He slumped back down in his chair.
"Nav, find the nearest civilian port. We need a friendly mailbox."
He walked back to his cabin, and began to type out his report for the President.
(This message has been edited by Captain Pharris (edited 12-12-2000).)
" We have encountered a problem. " " Two problems. " " The Phylydions have encountered the Dark. " " It was inevitable. " " They are confused. They percieve The Dark not nearly as the threat they should be percieved. " " The Dark will attack one of the Phylydion Colony Worlds in forty-nine hours. " " Elejee was most cooperative in denying the existance of The Dark. "
" Second matter: all attempts to close the linking rift in the Hatares sector have failed. " " The Dark have infested the nebula and are making their move. " " They shall resurrect the great one. It is also inevitable. " " There is the possibility The Dark might succeed against Dominus and the others. " " Shall we intervene this time? " " It is too late for that now. The Dark shall ravage all who oppose them. "
" We shall let the galaxy meet it's fate. "
The young woman spun in the air, landed perfectly on her feet and swung her fist around with great force. Her fist struck nothing but air. The target drone, ten feet away, was knocked into the air and dented. It fell, deactivated. "Excellent, Krialu. Next up!" The training was progressing, and Traek hoped it would be finished in time.
Salrilians were smart, and there was no denying it. They wouldn't fall for the same trick twice.
But they might fall for a modified version of the trick.
The Lightning lay in disputed space. The very space between Sol and Ishima that was so worried about that even jumpstreams were being restricted.
As the Salrilian gunship moved towards it, it... crackled. The Salrilians, however, didn't notice. As their weapons fire sped towards it, it vanished completely, phasing out.
The Salrilians were very confused as the smaller Endurance destealthed about three kilometres away, firing up to full speed.
Onas pulses and some form of blue beam filled the sky momentarily, then the gunship fell silent.
Endurance flew towards it, and lowered it's shields for docking. But Salrilians were smart.
Not one, but two carriers dropped in, flashing T-bolt rods at the Endurance.
The small fighter took the full force of one such blast, and was sent reeling through space.
An urgent distress call rang out, unheard. Magno pulses sped towards the Khada fighter, knocking out it's now-raised shields. More T-bolt rods flashed, and 8 Lightnings, in the cockpit released the controls. And then everything went white...
Went white... Went white... Went white...
------------------ 8 Lightnings Fleet: Lightning 1, Surge, Eagle, (once Endurance ) , Voltare, Alecto, Magaera, Tisiphone "CRUISER DESTROYED. 91 remaining" -Ares, Chapter 9, Hand Over Fist
(This message has been edited by 8 Lightnings (edited 12-13-2000).)
Went white... Went white...
The fighter I sit in now is not the Endurance . And I am no longer in the same system as before.
Something is wrong. I cannot feel as I could before. I look down at my arm, and the metal is gone. I am confused.
In some ways I feel good, to be whole again, fully human. In some ways, I am sad to have lost the many advantages I once had. Now the question comes to me, What do I do now?
I check the starmap. I am in a system near Sol. I am flying an Archangel fighter. And as I look at my reflection in the monitor, I see that I am no longer myself. The face is wrong. New. Something I have never seen before.
I look at the registration. I am flying the Alecto . So at least I still fly an 8 LightningForce ship.
But I have not nearly enough fuel to return to Tetrik V. So I decide to move on to Earth, and see what I can do from there.
The man who was once known as 8 Lightnings powers up the engines, and moves on to Earth, contemplating what just happened.
------------------ The Fury
"If I had a rocket launcher, I'd make somebody pay. And my fighter now has a rocket launcher."
(This message has been edited by The Fury (edited 12-13-2000).)
The Endurance drops out of hyperspace in the Tetrik V system. 8 Lightnings sits in the pilot seat. The ship lands on Tetrik V, and the people await their commander as he leaves the fighter. He walks over to his quarters and sits inside.
Noone notices as three extra eyes appear on his forehead, then vanish again. He smiles.
Earth has changed since the Ares left. Even since it returned.
Nevertheless, getting fuel was a relatively minor task, and soon, speeding through a jumpstream, the man who was once 8 Lightnings awaited his arrival on Tetrik V.
The jumpgate in the Tetrik system flashed, and the Alecto dropped in. The small ship quickly landed on Tetrik V, and to the man's moderate surprise, five armed men approached him.
He had been prepared for this, however.
He climbed over the side of the fighter, and walked towards the men.
"Stop there!" A commanding voice called.
The man looked over at the source of the voice, to see... himself...
"Who are you?" the man queried.
"High Commander 8 Lightnings. And you?" answered the man who looked like he was supposed to look like.
This was too strange. "The same..." he replied.
"Did you think you could just fly in here and perform any sabotage you wished?" the man who looked like 8 Lightnings asked.
The men looked around. Their commander didn't usually act like this.
"Get out!" he cried. "Imposter! Saboteur! I can feel you!"
Then the commander spoke again, more thoughtfully. "No, don't, actually. That's one of my fighters. We have a few probe pods. Take one of them instead."
The man who had once been 8 replied, "No." He wouldn't take one of those. It was suicide.
"Fire!" called the man who looked like him.
At that point, the man through a flashbang on the ground, blinding the men. He fired a P-K pistol at the 'commander', knowing that it wouldn't kill him anyway.
He then jumped over the edge of the fighter into the cockpit and got out. He hit the jumpgate before they could stop him.
No longer was he 8 Lightnings. He named himself after his fighter, and his fighter after him.
He was the Fury...
"If I had a rocket launcher, I'd make somebody pay. And my fighter has a rocket launcher."
8 Lightnings walked into his quarters again. Once he had assured himself that none were watching, his hand glowed yellow, then went black.
The symbol of the Eclipse.
The symbol enscribed on the Endurance.
------------------ 8 Lightnings Fleet: Lightning 1, Surge, Eagle, Endurance, Voltare, Magaera, Tisiphone "CRUISER DESTROYED. 91 remaining" -Ares, chapter 9, Hand Over Fist
On a secret DGA outpost, a Vindicative class battleship slipped back into dock. Its Commander arrived on the bridge of the station and received a greeting from the supine Salrilian there.
"How'd the shakedown voyage go?"
"Excellent. The vessel performed admirably."
"Such is only to be expected, under the enlightened rule of our Haruspex."
"Indeed. We were blessed on our journey. My report is already at your fingertips. May I take my leave now?"
"Certainly."
The Salrilian Commander slithered away to his quarters. Once inside, he couldn't repress a hiss of pleasure. Enlightened Haruspex indeed! He knew the truth. The full truth. He had seen the true leader. And so, when his task had come, taking time from his ship's maiden voyage to destroy a small convoy had been nothing. A mere ripple on the surface of a rising tide that would soon engulf the galaxy...
---------------------
It was a small colony world, with a grand name. Physa- "People's Courage". The name was fit for a great world, the homeworld even, a place from which the Phylydion empire could draw marvels of technology, society, and military. But it was not. It was only only a small border world, covered in farmland and forest, with an occasional sea or mountain range for variety. A grainbasket, an agricultural world with a population of only a few hundred million people. Physa. An ironic name for what would become of it.
The Dark had come. Their means of conveyance remained unknown, their methods showing no strategy recognisable to their prey. The Dark swept over the world, with hardly a whisper of battle. Terror engulfed Physa- the people's courage. And, with hardly a murmur of conflict, an entire world was lost.
A world of horrors. A nightmare unleashed in daytime. Evil beyond the worst dreams of a psychopath unleashed in reality. Death, everywhere. Terror. Neverending terror.
Through it all, a young boy fled. The Dark were everywhere, their cloud of fear stifling the populace into submission as they stalked the town. One followed the child at an easy lope, drinking deeply of his fear as it prepared for the kill.
Suddenly, the Phylydion child stopped, a dark figure looming above him. He cowered, and the Dark approached the figure, silence rippling with each step. The stranger looked at it, and nodded. Then it pulled the boy into it, golden light flaring. And the pursuer died.
A lone fighter orbited Physa, a glimpse into the cockpit showing a peeved Sundered Angel. He looked down on the world with undisguised annoyance. But who could be there for him to diguise it from? The enigmatic figure told his frustrations only to empty space, a world where sound would not travel, words lost into the void.
"You never cease to amaze me, you know. Throwing this and that at me, as if you could end my plans. This is only an annoyance, a little delay. Though it is one I really could do without. I have enough on my hands as things are, keeping the Divine Galactic Axis from wiping out the Phylydions, and now something new comes- The Dark, I believe they call them now."
He looked down on the planet, and fancied he could feel it pulse with pure malevolance. He shook his head, staring at the planet, and the empty void it hung in.
"They have no place in my plans, I am afraid. And that which has no place in my plans... has no place at all..."
(This message has been edited by Sundered Angel (edited 12-15-2000).)
The gunfire never ceased. Terror and death spred everywhere as the Phylydions engeged in major trench warfare against the Dark. A losing war. One phylydion popped up above the trench and fires multiple rounds from his assault rifle. The Dark lept on him and he fell dead. Rockets exploded, killing merely a few of the Nightmare Creatures.
Farlr, the Phlylydion commander, looked at the clouds, at his air support against the Dark. Through the mist, hovering mere kilometers above the planet's surface, hung the hulking Phylydia II. It remained silent, however, as another troop checkpoint was overrun by the swarm. Onboard, Drion Nerec watched the horror unfold.
"Look at these.... creatures...." He said to the Elejeetian tied to the stool behind him. "You claim they play a vital role in maintaining the order of the universe, yet they bring such savage destruction."
The bloody and beaten Elejeetian rasped. "They are the predators in the ecosystem of the space-time continuim."
"We have an awful hard time fighting them," Nerec said, nearly hypnotized by the battle secne far below."
"Of course you do. The Dark are made of pure energy."
"Is that why you and Salril both deny the existance of these creatures?! You cover up every last thread of evidence that they exist."
"We must let the swarms run their course."
"They have also run their course on yourplanets, yet you all cover up any trace of destruction. Denial only feeds the monster, Mr. Elejeetian."
"The Phylydions were foolish from the start, Nerec. The Darkness returns every three milleniaeto restore galactic order."
"But back then the Phylydions were in the stone age. Is that how The Dark intend to return us?"
The Elejeetian prisoner grunted.
Nerec Grinned ust as the communications officer silenced the frantic calls for air support from the colony. The Commanding officer walked into the room "Sir, the colony base will be overrun in a matter of minutes-- should we intervene?"
"Take us out of orbit, Mr. Nuion. We've seen enough."
Drion Nerec puffed his Cigar. And with that, the Phylydia II turned and began it's ascent into space as the last whisps of resistanceon the colony below were wiped out. An eery silence befell the planet...
(This message has been edited by Slug (edited 12-13-2000).)
The Phylydion rebel was in his cell, rolled up in a ball. He had given Garrion the information he required, and it had already been transmitted to Dominus and the High Command. Garrion pondered over the decision he had to make. Finally, he curled his slender hand into a fist and brought it down onto the desk he was sitting at. "Set course for the Rijak asteroid belt." The battlecruisers lined up and engaged their engines, heading for an area of space exactly one and a half parsecs from Salrilian space.
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Traek Cicion was in his quarters on Dominus. He lifted a fiery crimson cape out of a box and attached it to his uniform. His blue cape went into the box, and the box was placed in his closet. He walked out the door and into a lift tube. The tube whisked him down to a large chamber where twenty six men and women stood in identical capes. "Congratulations," said Traek shortly. "Now we must begin."
Five soldiers crouched behind a barricade made in the entrance to the power core of the small military garrison on the beseiged border colony. They fired spurts of fire from their burst rifles, taking down a few of the dark beings. But more kept coming, and killing, and growing. One soldier went down as one of them extended a black tendril to his skin. The others shot the tendril and it withdrew. The creatures advanced and two more soldiers died. The remaining two fell back, firing and firing and firing. Eventually, their rifles were exhausted, and they threw them at the dark creatures, who seemed to freeze the rifles when they contacted them. The two soldiers drew their knives and activated them. Shrouds of energy enveloped the knives as they were turned on. One soldier bellowed and charged into the enemy formation, hacking and slashing until he was dropped. The last soldier smiled, saluted, and brought his fist down on a control on the main touchpad. As the Phylydia II was leaving orbit, Nerec looked out the viewport and saw a massive, blossoming explosion on the main landmass of the planet. He shook his head and sighed. He then stood up, faced the colony and saluted the lost soldiers. Gritting his teeth, he said, "The colony is gone. Hold us here, and prepare for maximum orbital bombardment." "Aye, sir!"
(This message has been edited by Taeskor Cicion (edited 12-13-2000).)