A NEW TERROR( STAR WARS CROSSOVER)

[sonofccn]

“ First green then blue
After it feasts upon you
Beware the Raven’s pleading cry
For otherwise you shall die
It is not old time friends you hear
Something far darker lurks I fear”
One million quatloos for the obscure reference I’m gently hinting at here.

Wraith's Bridge:

Perched fitting high above so that he could look down into the crew pits bustling with measured activity Commander Jackson sat like a king of old upon his command throne. A gaudy thing made from the rarest black, marble like stone, glittering gold, flawless silver and, as well, animal pelts from across the galaxy. A gilded prize he’d taken from a Wookie pirate ship along with its captain crushed skull, that article now decorating the wall of his sleep quarters. It was to his credit that the ugly blemish on an otherwise sterile and perfect Imperial bridge fit him almost flawlessly.

At his side, as always, stood Ambrose with his hands clasped behind his back at a rigid attention a durasteel beam would have been proud of patiently waiting for any further decree from his commanding officer. The devotion on his hard edge face the sort that the Imperial academy could never instill into someone, not even for the Emperor, but which came about from the harsh and demanding life, generation after generation, of the southern colonies as he and much of the crew hailed from. So it was that Jackson didn’t even have to speak, merely look up from the terminal of displays he had grafted to his throne’s armrest, for Ambrose to respond.

“Sir?” He queried leaning in towards his commander, his arms still held behind his back with the strength of iron shackles.

“What do ya reckon about them?” Jackson thundered gesturing a hand towards one of his screens showing the alien vessel they were closing in on.” They’re chances?”

Undisturbed by his commander’s vocal response, he believed in giving his full passion to everything he did and crewmembers either adapted or went deaf, Ambrose contemplated the computer enhanced image. The ship itself was not unduly fearful, a giant pie plate perfectly circular coated a dull and fading blue roughly two and a half kilometers at its radius, plodding forward on a very refined, but not alarmingly so, cushion of drive plasma.

“She appears to have duel shielding, armored with a metallic substance unknown to our periodic table and heavily armed with a myriad and almost whimsical allotment of energy cannons, magnetic accelerators, and what appears to be torpedo tubes.” Ambrose, unsure how to proceed at this request, answered reciting a condensed listing of what the sensor teams had determined.

It was not however what the commander wanted as evident by the small scowl which crested his worn but good natured face.

“Ambrose my boy I can read a dern blasted scope report like anyone else. I trust your gib son and want to know what ya reckon their chances are.” Jackson declared raising a fist and slamming it onto his throne’s armrest, his neatly trimmed and ashen beard bristling with the quickly flowing passion.” I want to know if ya think they can put up a fight.”

“Oh I think they might make a play for it.” Ambrose answered with more certainty now understanding what Jackson was asking.” But in the end they won’t be facing some soft coreworlder but South Colonials, the hardest beings who’ve walked this or any galaxy.”

Reward with a satisfied nod from his commander the aid leaned back into the curious mixture of shadows which helped blend him from sight and thought aboard the bustling bridge, a haunting specter hovering at Jackson’s elbow. Brightening up like a child with his first toy blaster the commander leaned back in his seat clearly anxious for the coming of blows, his voice truly making the reinforced bridge quake when he called out once more for the time of intercept.

“Enemy vessel is fifteen thousand kilos and closing sir. ETA for firing range sixty-five seconds.” A gray haired officer, a Lt. Frailor, whose composed voice spoke with the full authority and rank his years of service had bestowed upon him, announced from the crew pits from a bank of technicians working their terminals.

“Their little old ship would already be in range had the jump gone off without a hitch.” Jackson reminded Frailor pointedly, through the upturning of his corners a moment later betrayed his true feelings towards the harmless little mistake.” Ah well, I reckon it just gives these here sorry excuses a little bit more time to sweat.”

“Indeed sir.” Frailor said returning his commander’s smile as one of his subordinate technician’s console beeped urgently.

A curious expression forming on the young man’s face as he beckoned the junior officer over. Frailor bending over the younger man’s shoulder to read the display, his face mirroring the former’s as the bewildering results were fed to him. Spying from his throne this playing out Jackson belted out an echoing request for clarification and Ambrose tensed his body to forcefully retrieve if none were forth coming.

“Weapons fire.” Frailor meant to say but the words were lost in the hellish klaxon which sounded as dozens of concentrated pulses of EM radiation blossomed against the Wraith’s rayshield.

Tens of fiery daggers stabbing into the bosom of the ship, both flashing into the material spectrum as their volatile energies drained and merged together, dwelling against the protective screens futilely trying to burn a path through. The slivers of death then fading away, simpering away to glowing hotspots of scarlet fury blotting across the star destroyer’s shield and then this too faded as if they had never existed, only to be replaced a scant breath or two later by a shower of silver projectiles belched almost limitlessly from the ship’s magnetic cannons. Cannon shells powerful enough to flatten fully a two story house exploded into raw molten plasma against the enveloped field by the hundreds, an endless stream which didn’t slow or ebb as the searing laser cannons crackled once more across the Wraith’s forward deflectors straining with their relentless fury to tear their way through.

“Now this is a fight!” Jackson yelled jumping to his feet, watching as the slowest of all missiles exploded in twos and threes on the forward observer in a hail of thermonuclear fireworks.” Push through this twaddle and lets show these Xenos just what this little ole ship can do.”

“Distance to the ship!?” Ambrose demanded rushing to his commander’s side and helping to steady him as a particularly powerful shudder worked its way through the bridge.

“Seven thousand Kilos and closing. It’s impossible…their guns are tracking us move for move at this range…” Frailor shouted clutching onto one his section’s terminals as the Wraith ploddingly turned first one way and then the other to no avail evading the withering fire.

To Jackson of course this was testimont to mutiny, his lips puckering swiftly and his beard becoming a maze of vicious spears as he countermanded the, in his view, cowardly order. Wanting the Wraith back into attack position and to “drive the prow straight down those varmints throats”.

“Prepare another hyperjump, drop us five hundred…no two hundred Kilos off from them and give them what for!” Jackson commanded simulating what he wanted to occur by cupping one hand and slamming a meaty fist into it.

“Sir…” Ambrose started faltering for a moment at correcting his superior before another strike of the laser cannons and the resulting emergency siren it generated steeled his resolve.”…another jump so close to the first would grievously weaken our power reserves including our shield strength. It might be more prudent…”

“Nonsense son, fighting a wild Bantha do ya’ll scamper away? No he’ll crushed ya’ll flat, hold your resolve and blast him at ten paces and he’ll collapse like cards.” Jackson hollered as his ordered was carried out.” Onward boys! For Victory, for the Emperor and for our glorious Soth Thejas may she stand resolute and defiant forever!”

Through he was not convinced the aid nodded his head and fell silent, helping to steady his commander again as another quake shook through the weakening deflectors. He had made his suggestion and it had been weighed and rejected, all that remained was to ensure that the formidable and powerful weapon that was Jackson was thrust into the hearts of the alien attackers.

All angles considered as the whine of the hyperdrive built up and the Wraith prepared to disrupt and pry apart the fabric of the universe Ambrose figured there were worse fates then were he stood, head to shoulder with a gallant southern colonial such as Jackson.

“For Victory! For Soth Thejas and for our Glorious Commander!” Ambrose shouted as they lurched to supralight speed.” For these lit us burn these Xenos back to hell!”

[sonofccn]

Interlude:

Turhan watched as the enduring warship, escaping from its screeching agony of his assault, vanish in a burst of tachyons in what he had come to suspect was its stardrive, finding part of himself logging what his sensors recorded to be reviewed and studied by the scientific council before realizing that subroutine was archaically outdated. The council no longer existed, erased from all existence by a gluttonous galaxy, by the Great Tragedy. All that remained were the memories, flawlessly encoded on datadrives, of Turhan and others like him which lived half lives enslaved to the flesh devouring jackals that he now served.

Living monuments to a proud and noble race cursed to stay aloft as every trace of that proud lineage sunk away as if into some dismal bog or treacherous quicksand, the towering heights made all the more bitter-sweet by the stunted and forsaken horizons which had replaced them. Behind his chosen avatar, which flickered dimly as a transparent ghost as his processing was devoted elsewhere, the crew of hybrids wildly jeered and howled like animals at the attack, unaware of what the flash of bluish white truly entailed, exchanging blows with each other in maddening glee or striking at the captives latched needlessly to the controls.

This almost drunken debacle only silencing as the triangular wedge reappeared thousands of kilometers close in a second burst of tachyons. The gaggle of hybrids looking up at the projected screen poking scaly fingers, tendrils and other misshapen appendages at the dagger shaped ship while demanding answers Turhan couldn’t be bothered to respond too. The Caretaker shifting the ship’s weapons to bear upon the warship’s new position, recalling those missiles nearest while those that had expended far too much of their fuel to do a turnaround he self-destructed protecting further innocents to perish due to his actions.

“You wanted a ravaging Elder.” Turnhan said grimly.” You shall have it.”
***
For a pristine and illustrative moment the Wraith, over one million tons of lethality condensed into the barbaric elegance of an Imperial stardestroyer, hung over the saucer shaped craft glowing with the sparkling castoff of the Noble Spirit’s outpour like a festive ornament sat atop a Christmas tree. Then the myriad of gunners locked their sights onto the bluish pie pan at once the volume of space filled with scarlet pulses. Like gladiators the two ships grappled with each other, ribbons of energy rippling across their buckling shields.

Screaming turbolasers spewed incinerating death by the hundreds, ruby arrows that fell in a torrent upon the alien craft exploding racing torpedoes, melting streaking canisters of titanium and slamming into the Noble Spirit’s defensive grid. Fighters held primed and ready in hanger bays boiled forth from the Wraith’s underbelly like enraged wasps unloading cascading waves of emerald death and bluish-white missiles which exploded with the fraction of the intensity of the alien’s torpedoes. Against this surgical like laser beams danced across the Wraith’s rayshields, converging together into a focal point further testing the battered screens. Railfire exploded across the ship’s prow like scattershot, joined in its unyielding pounding by torpedoes which erupted with the raw carnage of a dying star. Still the two sat locked, drives killing all inertia, at each other’s throat, hacking away with everything they had.

The countless, fragile souls who depended upon both mighty vessels to ply them across space could only wait with baited breath for who, if any would survive the grueling match.
***
Souls like Commander Jackson who whooped and yelled standing before his throne as he watched a squadron of bombers commence an attack run. Braving the smaller, sleek missiles which hunted down the swarming strikecraft with unblemished accuracy they dove across the saucer’s surface unleashing their payload which flared vividly against the ship’s deflectors imperceptibly weakening further. Slamming his fist harder and harder against the armrest of his throne he hollered his deepest respects for the pilots’ courage and as the last one madly scrambled to return to its hanger before a point-defense missile snatched it from the void of space in a flash of molten metal and vaporizing plastics demanded to know the squadron’s name wishing to decorate each member’s memory.
***
Like Frailor who stood hunched over a terminal vainly trying to read the fevered pitch of the scrolling script the far younger technician had his display tuned too. The wisdom and experience of a lifetime of service first to the Republic and then the Empire had rewarded him with doing little to dull the amazement in his voice as he called out the damage being inflicted. That the ship’s defense screens, the impenetrable and resolute barrier against designed to wade into the horrendous grinders of the Clone War without trouble was collapsing like a dark star. As his Commander bellowed out worthless commands about a destroyed fighter squadron, heedless to their own imminent following of that fate, Frailor pushed aside the technician and relying on his hard won experience tried to drain every last joule that he could for the forward shields. Exposing the Wraith flank and aft to attack as he fed the ravenous maw the forward prow had become.
***
Like Turhan who even as he monitored the crumbling of his own defense grid marveled at this unknown race’s unsubtle but powerful design. Bolts of plasma rivaling his fusion bombs ruptured like bloated boils across his ship, each a chaotic but profound hammer blow which chiseled another chink into his armor. Again he found part of his programming partitioning off to transcribe down the phenomenal packets of unstable plasma tightly bound within magnetic “capsules” for the council to review and again he felt a stab of pain more real than the downpour eroding his shielding cut cleanly through him.

***
Like Ug’o as he felt the progenitors’ chariot they had sublimely named Unending Torment have its eternal come broken by a shudder. His voice for the first time warbling with cold, naked fear as he demanded of the accursed Familiar what was happening, rewarded with only silence as the AI focused on the raging battle. His fellow hybrid squealing like the poor enslaved wretched bound down at their stations as the subsequent quakes sent them lurching to the deck plating, rolling aimlessly across the misty and slippery command room as a new sound split the air. A very shrill, scratching sound directed by a very old algorithm which Ug’o had never known or suspected.

“Pressure loss.” Turhan bothered to reply to the now gibbering hybrid before refocusing his attention.” The hull has been breached.”
***
Like Tie pilot Seth who along with his squad navigated the perilous maze of weaponry the two ships unleashed towards the Xeno vessel. As it blue hull filled his horizons he compressed his craft’s firing studs raking green cannon fire across not even caring if he struck anything and pulled away as the rest of his wing mates violently combusted, the anti-fighter missiles igniting the trapped air within their canopy’s to create dark, smoldering fireballs momentarily blaze. None however locked on Seth Ion trail and tempting fate the pilot studded the controls for regulation rocketing his tiny ship forward at greater acceleration.

“This is pilot IS-50-13 coming in for a return, clear a landing berth. I repeat clear a landing berth.” Seth radioed to the Wraith, his sole and last act before one of the railgun fired canister bisected his returning fighter.

The conical projectile splitting one solar panel completely off and clipped the other as it tore a pair of torso sized holes onto either side of the ball canopy. The pilot himself, never seeing what killed him, was atomized to a fine sluice by the high speed weapon and appeared sucked out the exit wound as a scarlet tendril which floated and bobbed in space as his fighter tumbled away waiting for the cold embrace of the void to slowly freeze it.
***
Like Ambrose who gave a slight nod of his head, all the emotion he betrayed in contrast to Jackson’s cheering cries, as the alien’s hull began to blister and bleed gouts of burning oxygen and liquefied streams of exotic metal. The smoldering craters growing as he watched, merging together like cancerous growths even as Ambrose heard Frailor’s worried warning and felt the bone jarring shudder as the Wraith’s shield gave way too.
***
The martial aspect of his programming took some pride as the unknown vessel’s shields fell and lines of flame raced across it hull even if Turhan did not personally wish harm to the occupants. Regardless he realized, had indeed already known, that it would not be enough. Already more than half of his weapon systems were destroyed and disabled and the tally was growing, armor never made to withstand such punishment for long disintegrating before the packets of plasma which dug ever deeper into the being of the ship/himself.

Around him on the shaking bridge, nestled deeply at the core of the mighty ship, the hybrids fluttered about in a blind panicked, ripping slaves bloodily away from stations to stab at the controls, breaking open hidden compartments to loot what appeared to weapons of both bladed and firearms as if they could battle away the opposing ship with such toys. Turhan paid them no heed, offering them no help to absolve or sooth the coming crisis only watching with disinterested scorn as the foul things comically floundered about. All except Ug’o, the eldest of the loathsome creatures who to his lecherous credit struggled now on the cusp of dissolution to maintain some stoic resolve.

“What shall we do?” He asked at Turhan’s side, almost a sobbing plea.

“We die.” The Caretaker said, feeling a swelling in his chest at those cherished words, looking up towards the ceiling where an all consuming blast was inbound.” Creators forgive me!”

And Ug’o, who with a glance realized he had been abandoned by his kin, could only wonder as the room began to broil and the ceiling warp and fracture what each of his countless victims had felt at the last before they sputtered and died. A question without an answer as he was blinded by the glaring light from above, flesh blistering into flame as he raised a hand protectively overhead and then plunged into inky blackness.
***
“I reckon that is how your school some subhuman savages!” Jackson crooned as he watched the saucer split apart in a hellish blaze, its edges consumed away by its ruptured reactor which spilled forth.” Damage?”

“Minimal.” Frailor said with a cautious tone, reading the display with a disbelieving eye.” Several minor hull breeches but they have been contained, about a quarter of our turbolasers have been knocked out of commission, further details pending…in addition we experienced a few power surges localized near the ship’s core. Likely just relays burning out from the strain.”

“Have a repair team look into, as well as ascertain the full extent of the damage both to the hull and our gunnery.” Ambrose interjected.” We are unfortunately far from any Imperial starbase to repair any of this damage.”

“Indeed. Recall all fighters and proceed at sublight back towards the Judgment.” Jackson boomed in agreement.” Print me off the names of the bomber crew, those brave as all get out men deserve some of the valor of this engagement.”
*

So what do you think so far?

[Admiral Breetai]

“ First green then blue
After it feasts upon you
Beware the Raven’s pleading cry
For otherwise you shall die
It is not old time friends you hear
Something far darker lurks I fear”

sounds so familiar but cannot place it.

you tell a very detailed well written tale here my friend I enjoyed it immensely keep going, these creatures are pretty cool and your imperial characters are well done

Turhan? babylon 5 shout out?

[sonofccn]

sounds so familiar but cannot place it.

Its an ode to the Ravens from the Star Trek Book Dreams of the Raven. A race which cracks open and devours brains gaining perfect mimicry of the subject's voice/memories. One of the first Star Trek books I read as a child and it scared me a little but I enjoyed it immensly.

you tell a very detailed well written tale here my friend I enjoyed it immensely keep going, these creatures are pretty cool and your imperial characters are well done

Thank you but you haven't seen my "lovelies" in action yet.*wink* those power surges weren't broken relays*wink*. I plan to have Jackson go toe to toe with one of them. But I put it to you this for the next section do you want more of Jackson and his Wraith fighting the sea monsters or Krevin real politicing the Imperium/ more of the mysterious "native" alien race the Imperium is fighting?

Turhan? babylon 5 shout out?

No...A shout out to your Turhain through I'd didn't realize it until I was reading your latest post and caught the name again.

[Admiral Breetai]

Its an ode to the Ravens from the Star Trek Book Dreams of the Raven. A race which cracks open and devours brains gaining perfect mimicry of the subject's voice/memories. One of the first Star Trek books I read as a child and it scared me a little but I enjoyed it immensly.]

trek with Howard and lovecraftian influences? sounds bitchen

]Thank you but you haven't seen my "lovelies" in action yet.*wink* those power surges weren't broken relays*wink*. I plan to have Jackson go toe to toe with one of them. But I put it to you this for the next section do you want more of Jackson and his Wraith fighting the sea monsters or Krevin real politicing the Imperium/ more of the mysterious "native" alien race the Imperium is fighting?

either or sounds like it has the potential to be awesome honestly Krevin isn't as over the top and hammy as Vi'retess or some of the GA's can be but his character oozes "magnificent bastard" which is always fun to read

then again a good old fashion ass whoopun is always fun to read too

No...A shout out to your Turhain through I'd didn't realize it until I was reading your latest post and caught the name again.

I am deeply honored sir

[sonofccn]

trek with Howard and lovecraftian influences? sounds bitchen

Well I can't say what compelled the author in creating that particular race but I thought they were very interesting, almost a pity the story itself focuses on the mystery of why the sector of space Kirk's Enterprise has been crippled in is adrift in a plethera of ships with their crew vanished and the rest irrationally trying to kill/board the Enterprise.

The real scary part, at least to me, is it is revealed that on a certain level your still alive inside the alien's head. The Klingon commander for instance could "influence" the alien who got his noggin.

either or sounds like it has the potential to be awesome honestly Krevin isn't as over the top and hammy as Vi'retess or some of the GA's can be but his character oozes "magnificent bastard" which is always fun to read

Thank you, through I'm not sure he's earned the magnificent part of that title. :) Rest assured while I do have hopes of him bestriding the galaxy pulling schemes and laying down Aces he's going to be punched in a face a bit and being counfounded and outmanuvered by others as well. *Cough* Tyler*Cough*

If you want ham on ham combat Jackson's your man, one part confederate colonel, one part TR, all "thunderlizard". Also I think what may be the only good guy of the Imperial commanders, he at least has shown some compassion or regard for those who serve under him.

[sonofccn]

III. Dragon’s Teeth:

"Bugs ain't like humans, they don't take pleasure in killing. No their souls are blacker, the things I saw when I boarded Rising Eagle I can scarcely describe. Organs hanging from hooks pulsating with electricity, skin stapled to bulkheads, eyes unblinking floating in viscious fluids and through it all the crew, the crew cut up and put on display like a butcher's shop, screamed. Screamed for the release of death. Like I said Bugs don't take pleasure from killing."


Rat Command Vehicle-

While he could not be called overtly happy bestriding within the armored halls of what had to be the largest target on this hemisphere of the drab little world Krevin did take some solace in the repaired battle damage strung out across the hull as a sign that whatever logic had prompted the construction of the cantankerous behemoth still held sway. As well the sergeant who had greeted them at the bulkhead’s door and now guided them through the maze of haphazardly strewn conduits and plated walls seeping black oil certainly didn’t appear to have lost any weight over worry of the airborne terrors swooping down and obliterating the oversized tin plated windup toy.

A portly man looking a good ten years past his desirable prime, if he’d ever had it, with a chubby good natured face crowned with frosty white hair cut in a cross cropped style meant to speak of discipline and martial prowess but on him failed utterly. The closet the Commodore could think to describe the plump little soldier was to a certain mythical figure believed on some imperial worlds to visit small children and give them gifts of candies and toys. Despite being wrapped in an overstretched blue overcoat and trouser lined with gold color instead of the red and white costume normally associated with the jovial figure Krevin thought the doughy sergeant made a fair match. A content and happy smile on the man’s round face which had only broken once, since making the Commodore’s acquaintance, which was a momentary haughty upturn up his wobbly chin as he turned on his heels on the red and black dressed Dietrich and sealed the bulkhead in the young man’s face.

Spying this just inside the narrow and dank corridor of the mammoth assault vehicle, reeking of leaking gas lines and the sweating bodies who toiled within her, the Commander filed away this unexplained phenomenon away for further use well aware of intraservice rivalry in the Empire and how such things could be exploited. Since then their guiding host had been congenial if rather unenlightening possessing fairly good if slightly accented basic which he used for more liberally and fluidly than the Colonel had.

Accompanying them were of course his stormtroopers who could only walk single file down the twisting labyrinth with all but one trailing behind the Commodore making retreat if the child like man proved duplicities a difficult proposition. In the event at this stage Krevin was in doubt if he could find his way back to the door he entered from, never mind the heavily armed laborers he saw taking up nearly every nook or corner adding ash laden smoke to air already rich in diesel fumes and other rank odors, the path and chutes making up the command vehicle twisting through it with the serpentine grace of intestines unseen even on the most cluttered and poorly designed area on a super star destroyer. At one stage they’d even been forced to crawl on their hands and knees, something his body guards handled only slightly better than their portly guide, underneath hissing pipes gently billowing sauna like steam dredged up from the machine’s bowels for some unknowable purpose.

“Mind your head here.” He said needlessly squeezing past a white shelled stormtrooper to help pull the Commodore up nearly clanging his head against the scalding pipe he was concerned over.” I am sorry commander, please forgive me.”

“Quite.” Krevin, unsure if the creature before him was genuine or a clever copy, answered gingerly quite eager to move forward before a half blind stormtrooper stumbled into him from the rear.” Its amazing any of you can get to your postings at this rate.”

“Oh it isn’t too bad. Besides…” The sergeant said dropping to a hushed tone and looking from side to side of the narrow corridor he was leading them down before leaning past the forwardly positioned stormtrooper again, his armor scraping across the metal hall as he tried and failed to stop the heavier weight of blubber, as if to share some great secrete with Krevin.” With the right ingredients and opening it just so you can create…oh what apple strudel just like Lebeau used to make. It was so good!”

From here their host descended into a long diatribe on the deliciousness of strudel and many other alien presumed delicacies of which he was apparently well acquainted despite the best subtle and not so subtle needling Krevin attempted to stop him. Not even the chirp of the Commodore’s communicator broke the sergeant spiel upon a “French-man” and his excellent culinary arts, the commander most eagerly for the distraction it provided unclipping his communicator and rising it up to speak. Well aware with almost certainty that Tyler would intrude a second time only if a fresh calamity had befallen them such as a warfleet of Megarachnids were descending into the system, a race the Commodore would gladly never meet again.

However Tyler’s voice was cautiously upbeat, not exuberant but the confident tone he used in that moment at cards when you realized he had the upper hand, but with streaks of that grim undertone he had taken too recently. The upheaval within his breast still raging uncontended and still too young to determine to which port his ship would be forced to in the tempest.

“Commander, it has been confirmed that the sensor probe we encountered came from an alien vessel of unknown configuration or species.” The subcommander said slowly allowing that to filter through Krevin’s consciousness before continuing.” By the Emperor’s glory I am pleased to report they have been destroyed, as Jackson rather loudly informed me. And continues to do so and so on. If we could but harness that bellow which is his lungs.”

“Then Commander Jackson has my congratulations and you my deepest sympathies Subcommander. Remind me to go easy on you the next time we play cards.” Krevin answered him as the sergeant continued to talk of cake and pastries.

“Go easy Commodore? Maybe I need to get you back here for a hand before you come back to your senses.” Tyler answered back with a laugh, not accidently dredging up many fond memories spent winning and losing large sums and drinking very fine ale, before taking on a more bleak timber.” The victory was not without its loss I’m afraid. The Wraith took some damage, Jackson is as you expect from such a headstrong fool tightlipped on those details, and possible up to half of his strike craft have been destroyed or disabled.”

The officer pausing once more for his words to permeate through the commander’s consciousness, waiting and no doubt gauging his superior’s response. For his part some tiny remaining granules of what the academy had imprinted upon him that drink and experience hadn’t destroyed crashed within and fought to control his tongue at what sounded like a near crippling and reduction by a third of the dwindling force he was now standing on an alien planet to preserve. As well as secure, if however faintly, his foothold over the locals but that was an unrelated issue unconnected with the anger he felt burn.

Thankfully he suppressed that initial urge for an outburst, seeing no logic of angering a man who still commanded a starship which could reduce him and the world around him to a burnt cinder. A third of the crew was indebted to the second in command’s through one of his illegal gambits and pursuits and another third easily cowed by threat of punishment and death.

Instead, as they finally reached a door marked by a sigil of some importance, he kept his tone humorous and cheerful. So good not even his mother would have known if he spoke the truth or not and hopefully Tyler, who knew him far better, would fair no greater.

“I thought when I boarded the shuttle I gave orders to try and keep my fleet together.” The Commodore said between a gaggle of hearty laughs.” This is a swell planet to visit, very interesting and considerate locals, but I’m still undecided if I want a vacation home here. Might still need the Big J to fall back too. What can I say I’m weak Tyler, being trapped on a planet gives me hives.”

“I hear you my friend but I believe you instructed me only to keep the Judgment intact while you were away. I’ve done so. I’d suggest getting the same oath from Jackson but we both know that’s a failing cause.” The Subcommander replied, matching Krevin’s tone, as the sergeant began to open the marked door.” As for you being marooned I’ll plant your flag onto a moon shuttle before I would let that happen sir.”

“Jackson has his place but he’s an enraged rancor in a temple of glass. Useful, at times even necessary, but he leaves many pieces for us to pick up.” The Commodore answered back as the sergeant finished opening the door revealing the antechamber to some office.” If that’s the end of the good news parade I’ll think I bow out before you try and get me on the hook for any of the paperwork piling up, okay subcommander?”

His second offered no objections and after terse but he hoped warm farewell he snapped his communicator shut and hitched it back onto his belt as he and his men walked into the outer office. Compared to the claustrophobic corridors they were leaving the bland steel gray box room was a palace with his guards at last having the needed room to protectively swarm over him. More importantly sitting behind a desk cluttered with paperwork filled out in triplicate sat a very fetching blond hair woman, no twi’lek dancer but with a subtle charm the officer could not quite place but recognized all the same. Despite the atrocious condition of warping steel and leaking oils she found herself in she was immaculate and enchanted with perfumed spices exotic and new to the Commodore’s senses. As he watched their escort slide up to her desk announcing their arrival, helping himself as well to a bowl of sweets positioned among the clutter of papers and pens.

“ Sergeant…” She sighed exasperated turning her head after the chubby soldier, causing her pair of pigtails she had adorn her hair in to sway and the Commodore to think once more of that twi’lek he’d met, who inhaled a small handful of the colored candies.”…I would think eating the Kommodant’s cake would be enough.”

Her words were stern but there was no bitterness behind them and no sooner had she said it than she laughed, a rather soft tinkling, and shook her head as the sergeant sheepishly pleaded his case. An air of familiarity surrounding him as if this argument had been had been said and made many times as he spoke his next few words.

“What?! I only had a crumb, just a little bitty crumb.” He replied holding up a thumb and finger with just a fraction of a space between them.” What’s the harm?”

“And that crumb could feed a bl-a family of eagles.” She replied back, smiling wide, in a butchered and over accented version of Imperial basic before switching back to her normally accented tone.” Oh you, just don’t take anymore crumbs will you?”

“Whatever you say, baby!” The sergeant replied in what had to have been in imitation of a very poor holovid before turning and taking a seat propped up into the corner of the room.

There, watched by the Commodore as he introduced himself and exchanged pleasantries which for once were not completely forced, he sat down pulling from his coat pocket a tin plate so polished it gleamed like a diamond in the compartment’s overhead lighting. Elsewhere from his pockets he produced a tissue wrapped sandwich, a pair of fork and knife which he laid on either side of his tin plate balanced on his ample knee, a thermoses filled with what smelled like recaff and a red and white checkered handkerchief which he wrapped around his neck. At this point Krevin was willing to entertain the idea that the sergeant was genuine because he feared that anyone could so cleverly be so stupid.

What other treats he was to pull from his great coat the Commodore thankfully was not to know, moving after the kindly secretary as she moved towards the inner office door. Reaching for and turning the polished handle, the entire thing made from wood and varnished metal with gold gilded lettering running across in a language Krevin couldn’t understand, and pushing it open with the commander stepping quickly behind her.

Regretfully his guards could not follow, through their departure allowing him to take the secretary’s hand and give it a quick kiss proving the sergeant wasn’t the only one to act out bad holovids, decorum demanding they stand out alongside the tank commander’s sergeant through what harm could he do should thing come to blows was left unstated. Giggling from Krevin’s action, in that way planet-bounders always did on those rare occasions he acted the lantern jaw hero all Imperial commanders were supposed to be, the fetching female assistant showed him into the inner office.

It was a rough steel box slightly smaller than the outer one through at least its walls had been decorated. Pictures of antique flying machines dotted the walls as did photograph of the room occupants appearing greatly excited shaking hands with people immensely less so. The man himself, reclining back in a chair with his feet resting on his desk, was an older, gauntish man with only a fading wisp of black hair remaining on his shiny scalp. His narrow, lean face all but hidden behind the magazine he was most intently engrossed in which poked up only slightly over the gray cover the same shade and design of the Imperial manuals he wanted people to think he was reading.

“Mien Kommodant-Mien General.” The golden hair secretary said pleasantly correcting what appeared to be a force of habit as she addressed her superior.

At her chiming words the Imperium commander peeked up absentmindedly from his magazine, revealing a tightly clenched monocle over one eye, taken off guard by the interruption.

Then like a spring had been snapped he dropped his feet to the floor, through not before flailing for a moment and nearly falling backwards, tightly clenching his manual/magazine shut and shoving it into a subsequently closed drawer. The officer grabbing a pen from its holster between a crystal shifter of alcohol and cigar box and began madly scribbling on a piece of parchment which even from his position Krevin could see was a printed sheet and that it was upside down.”

“I gave strict orders not to be disturbed, I am in the middle of very important work for the fatherland…” He clipped in a well rehearsed, if unbelievable, manner.

“Herr General, this is the visitor the divisional command informed you about. You know…the visitor…” She said extending a finger towards the ceiling.” From up there my General.”

At her words the Imperium Commander’s forehead furrowed for a moment in confusion as to her statement and then his eyes grew as large as saucers, so much so Krevin feared the monocle would fall and shatter, and he opened his mouth at least twice as much.

“Why didn’t you tell me he was here!? Come in, come in good sir!” He gushed rising from his seat, falling over himself to reach over and shake the Commodore’s hand as the lovely secretary retreated closing the door behind her.” Come, here have a drink. Have two drinks…we’re not stingy here.”

He laughed, far too loudly and long, and Krevin politely joined him as he accepted a proffered glass taken from a stand stashed in the corner of the office and allowing the bumbling fool to fill it for him. All the while he continue to talk, obviously where his sergeant had acquired his traits from.

“I always say, always say, that you Englanders are my kind of folks, proud and stoic just like the Fatherland’s people. We could and should be friends, so what if we bombed you into submission during the forties? Water under the bridge, you know I bought an Englander radio once back in forty-eight and what do you know it still works. Wonderful craftsmanship you people have, wonderful…” He droned pouring himself a glass and than holding up his cigar box invitingly to the Commodore.” Smoke?”

“Thank you.” Krevin said taking the vaguely death-stick like object and holding it until the General produced a crude ignition system from a desk drawer.” But I’m not from this world you call England. I was born on a small world you have never heard of called Alderaan but that is immaterial. I represent the Imperial Empire, a loose confederation of worlds with people like us, as both an explorer and protector of humanity. A guiding light you might say to see that fellow Homo Sapiens are not engulfed by the galaxy’s darkness such as the Schlange as I believe you call them.”

Letting what he said digest he took the seat in front of the General’s desk and gestured for him to do likewise, leaning back and puffing on his cigar which he found oddly intoxicating. Even the raw, throaty burn he felt as the smoke made its way to his lungs had a certain charm he thought, releasing it slowly as he fought a tickling sensation to cough savoring the unique, rich flavor.

“But that’s impossible, simply impossible. Mankind has barely reached a dozen worlds, there is no place for your confederacy unless…unless you are claiming to be the first ones.” The Imperium Commander answered after a moment with the sort of disbelieve a feather could knock over.” Because I simply couldn’t believe, not at all. That is simply impossible, I won’t believe it…did you really build the pyramids?”

Covering his hacking cough with a swift drink, a delicious concoction he couldn’t quite place, which helped dose the smoldering flames of his raw throat he worked on what he planned to say next recognizing in the bumbling soul a rather hoary, common myth among a vast swath of the galaxy residents at one stage or another of their evolution of an eldred precursor race. He’d even help instigate one or two on sufficiently human like worlds which were too technologically poor and unimportant to bother with, around many campfires on those alien vistas dancing tribal men shrieked the praises of Palpitine and his star tribe. To find it, gift-wrapped, upon this world however was almost too good and perhaps a sign his luck was finally changing for the better after that disastrous run in with that mine.

“I can not speak on if the pyramids were built by us, once long ago we traveled far to worlds beyond reckoning, but I can swear to you I come from a realm ruled for and by humans. You can see for yourself that we are of the same blood, how else can you explain it if we are not, distantly, kin?” He answered speaking slowly, adding smoke to the room as he between words brought his smoke back to his lips, reading every fidget and every twitch in his opposite.” Today, after these long years, we come once more from the darkness seeking to take our children’s hands in friendship. To return at our rightful place at your side.”

“It all sounds so…unbelievable. I never dared think…hope you existed…” The General said in puzzlement rapidly downing his glass and reaching for a second.” Are you truly one of the Firsts as our Leader gloriously predicted? It sounds so fantastic.”

“The galaxy holds so many unpleasant surprises, why must you doubt the beneficial?” Krevin asked with all the false charm and friendship of a used speeder salesmen through his mark didn’t seem to notice.” Please let me show you our good will, a demonstration of the brotherhood of humanity which units and links our confederacy. These Schlange, they torment you so correct?”

“ Yes…snake in your tongue…vile things who wish us destroyed. Attack and kill without mercy or thought…men, women…some of the villages I’ve seen…attacked…” The General said, voice faltering as he slumped back into his seat his glass undrunk.

His eyes glazing over as he relived memories of the most unpleasant order, his glib and lickspittle demeanor falling from him like an old coat as he struggled with these thoughts. Krevin waited patiently for him to recover, tilting his glass back and swallowing it one large gulp, before moving in to finish his sale’s pitch. Waiting until the crushing depression stupor had lifted so he could hear and listen to the world around him rationally but was still recent enough to color his every thought and make him eager for the help The commodore would offer him like a man in the Tatoonie desert would water.

“Give me the coordinates of the worst of the fighting.” Krevin said undoing his communicator and drawing Tyler’s voice out of it.” And I will prove to you our friendship.”

From there it was so simple. A quick sensor sweep over the desired area to show what they were up against and arranging a compact armada of Ties and troop bearing transports to crush it. Not without cost of course, more doubly felt with the recent losses of the Wraith, but in life as in cards when you wanted to draw out the big pot you had to first toss his way a few of your credits as bait.

[sonofccn]

“ While the archives are still being translated and what we have obtained is likely subject to the same hindsight revision, rewriting and second hand recrimination as you might expect we feel confident in stating the following. As far as we have determined the “Saucer People” rose from their world across the galaxy with hopes of uniting it in a glorious confederacy of brotherly love and understanding. The galaxy at large responded by its denizens hobbling over each other to crack open the “Saucer People’s” brains, in some cases literally, and devour the delicious contents within.”

Interlude:

Cytherean airbase-

The base was quiet, its halls deserted as select figures rose from the most lavish bedding, made from soft fabric which tickled their scaly skin, washed with fresh pure water untainted by endless recycling, dressed with exquisite care despite the urgency of what they had to and ate the final meal of their lives. There was no talking, each bowed over their food bowl devouring the squirming, small hairy beasts, no sounds but the crackling of tiny bones on those occasions they bothered to chew. Despite it being due to them should they desire it they took nothing to drink but refrigerated water, pure and uncontaminated, knowing they could allow no weakness, no mistake on their coming mission.

In all twelve of them stood over one of the feeding trays which made up the base’s mess, the others all deserted. The personnel finding an excuse, any excuse, to avoid the twelve, marked brilliantly with a bleached white skull stamped across their face as well as a plethora of smaller human and other exotic alien shaped ones running across their arms and shoulders visible beneath their webbing of pouches and harnesses. Tallies of their victories as were the scars which creased their hard, leathery flesh, their legion marking them as much as the skull motif forever burned into their visage as members of the Praetorian legion.

An elite cadre of warriors who in their ferocity at combat, discipline or devotion were unsurpassed or questioned. The hard resolute anvil on which the enemies of the Commonwealth would to shattered, the sharp spear edge which would tear deep into enemies’ flank and rip at his organs. They were unparalleled, every move the subtle and controlled grace their centuries of warfare had bestowed them, in the art of war and knowingly aloof of those outside their narrow pact but it was not why they ate alone. Primal fear and superstition no civilized Cytherean would dare admit it contended grave misfortune if one met the gaze of a ghost and on this day the twelve men were indeed ghosts. Their funeral attended to last night, what mementos they possessed given away to their brothers in arms, what tears needed to be shed expunged.

All that remained was steely reserve, as hard as their scaled flesh, which would carrying them until they breathed their last.

“It is time.” Squad leader Korvav finally announced, his voice like a smooth stone gently rolling down a flowerily hill, and almost in unison his men pushed their bowls away to be tended to by the hiding staff and slithered for the exit.

First too a briefing room where a veteran elder, surpassing his ninth century, unafraid to meet each of his warriors in the eye and clasp their forearm in turn detailed the point and particulars of their mission. Unneeded, each of the twelve present had devoured the related data packets and had in a sense become a biological missile for their assigned target, but none complained. Listening acutely to the old one’s words of wisdom as weapons were disturbed, assault cannons, flechet pistols, grenades of every make and sort as well as plasma weaponry.

When he was finished, when every weapon was hung properly and every armored plate was stitched into position, when his voice began to break with swelled pride the twelve as one began to exit single file. Solemn and composed, as to be Adjuncts, they moved towards the spade shaped doorway only to have the elder intersect them one final time.

“ You will be long remembered, your family names honored unto Eternity. Etched into the cold, black heart of the cosmos upon the end by the last stubborn member of our race.” The elder said, eye slits glistening with tears he would not, could not shed, meeting each warrior in the eye one final time and gripping them with a firm, confident grip at the wrist.” This is what they reduced us to, sacrificing twelve glittering jewels for twelve of their piggish apes.”

“ We will take more than twelve of the apes with us Elder, or I shall spit upon my ancestors on crossing the ethereal river.” Korvac.” We will make them pay a handsome price for us.”

With that the elder Praetorian withdrew allowing the squadleader and his men to exit, heading towards the hanger pit where a sleek, black gunship waited for them. It onyx hull properly angled and composed as to render the raking screens of radar the hairless apes used impotent, their chariot which would carry them to the heart of the foul vermin’s lair. Taking them to the heart where in one fell swoop they would end the war.

“Death to the Apes!” Korvac shouted as his men began to file into the gunship.

“Death to the Apes!” They shouted back like an avalanche, like a tidal wave, an asteroid shower or an earthquake.

Unfathomably immense and utterly unstoppable. They would do him proud.

[sonofccn]

Okay here's the first part of my epic hand to hand...well claw to blaster segment. Any critique on how the fighting flowed would be greatly apreciated. I'll try to get Jackson's turn up over the weekend.

“Flesh engorged and perverted into a bulbous, mockery of what it once was, its mammoth belly dragging across the ground between its waddling feet, face caked a rusty red from the gory tendrils dripping down from its forever hungry jaws, crimson talons where hands once were that can cut through gristle and bone into bite sized portions…an almost gelatinous mass of flab and bile that reaching twelve or more feet high…that’s gentlemen is a Guardian. Pray you never meet one.”

ISS Wraith, corridor:

Sub-Delta Gunner Darren was an unlikeable, greasy blob of a person, messily fitting into his uniform, with a grating voice and small, rodent like eyes which were constantly shifting about as if he’d consumed too much recaff. As he did now, leaning a oily palm against a crisp and clean bulkhead, glancing from back and forth from the two brilliantly white clad troopers who stood in front of him. Their blaster carbines hanging slanted in their black and white hands towards his scuffed and worn shoes, the fingers on one constantly fidgeting around the handle and trigger guard like one who’d had taken too much glitterstim.

“Is there a problem gentlemen?” Darren asked pulling his face into a rictus like grin, thrumming his fingers in a slow and methodical manner against the durasteel lined wall.

“ Does it look like I’m in the mood for games?” Stuart complained reaching a hand to his utility belt, opening a pouch and removing a small handful of credit discs

Gold gilded copper coinage imprinted with the crest of the Empire on one edge and Heroes of it on the other, these bearing the predatory face of Grand Moff Tarkin. Archaic and gaudy but they left no computer trace and held some value even in the wilds of the Outer Rim unlike an electronic credit chip. Like a fat, hungry reek Darren snatched the capitol from the Corporal’s hand, stuffing it down a pocket, and after a brief glance at the other stormtrooper and Stuart’s exasperated beckoning for him to continue pulled up his shirt revealing a moist and disgusting underbelly as well as a tightly strung belt with black rectangle prism at its center. It was from here, opening it by pressing his thumb into the circular indention at its center, that he extracted half a dozen brightly colored strands and handed them over to Stuart who put them into the pouch the money had come from.

“ Always a pleasure, and you?” Darren asked with over exaggerated agusto as he dropped his shirt back into place and turned towards the other trooper.” Perhaps a little spice, maybe the last of it in the whole galaxy if what I hear is correct.”

“N-no!” A overtly panicked Rookie stuttered feebly stepping back, shaking his head so fiercely he nearly lost his helmet.

As it was, having received his from a joblot which ran slightly too big, it comically spun half around blinding him, one of his twitching hands reaching up and grabbing at the smooth, white armor as he continued to back up. His armored glove slipping underneath the lip of his helmet fastening to it but not before he blindly stumbled over his own feet and fell against the opposite bulkhead with a loud clash which echoed through the deserted hall. Falling forward insult was added to his injury as his helmet fell off and rolled away into the alcove of a doorway, far away from the trooper’s reach which weakly reached out for it much to Darren’s chagrin. The reserve gunner clutching at hand at his wobbling side as he broke out into a harsh cackle over it.

“ Did you see that? Boy’s so sauced I doubt he knows what end of the boat he’s on.” Darren gushed in a voice in a voice as oily and greasy as he was, laying one sweating palm onto Stuart’s shoulder pad for support as his red face took to wheezing and he doubled over.” I take what I said back buddy, whatever glitterstim you have, I want to buy some. I haven’t been that messed in years.”

He said more, voice turning reedy and brittle, loudly guffawing at Rookie’s plight but the Corporal didn’t hear any of the rest, the words drowned out as he pulled away from the larger, oily man and before he could tumble and fall his own self raised the stock of his carbine and brought it crashing down where Darren’s flabby neck melted into his stumpy shoulders.

“Shut-up Darren.” Stuart hissed watching the lumpy man go limp and collapse onto the floor, a bulging sack of slush the stormtrooper ignored as he walked over to his squadmate, more stunned than heart in his debacle, helping him up and steadying him.

Noticing, not for the first time, the nervous quiver in his hands, keeping him from keeping them still for more than a moment or two, as he reached once again for his belt.

“Sorry, that Feth has the manners of a malcontent Wookie.” The Corporal said undoing the clasp and drawing one of the colored sticks from within.” Here take one, it helps. Trust me.”

Taking the death-stick delicately into his hand, its garish colors clashing with the pristine white and black of his glove, he looked up at the Corporal, outwardly passive and indifferent thanks to his tactical helmet, and back to his hand which coiled and uncoiled around the contraband.

“Didn’t you ever see those vids on the holonet?” Rookie asked with a dry chuckle trying and failing to hold his hand steady.” These things will kill you.”

“A lot of things will faster.” Stuart replied with a voice that shared his unseen smile as he stepped away to retrieve his comrade’s helmet.” That tinplated dictator’s sedatives are out of your system. This isn’t a holovid, you can’t see what we saw and just walk away it will eat you, I’ve seen it.”

From behind he heard Rookie’s continued protest, unable to mask a yearning hunger which slithered through his voice, and he started to answer as he knelt down to scoop up the wayward helmet. Inadvertently triggering the door sensor to the store room it had rolled towards, the armored bulkhead receding with a soft purr unleashing a pungent odor that immediately brought back what he’d seen on that blasted alien vessel.

The coppery stench of blood filling his senses as his visor’s augmented vision peeled away the shadows of the darkness draped room. Revealing the shattered bits of the illuminator which was spread about on the floor, the wet streaks of vividly red blood smeared randomly across, and laying crouched on the floor stained crimson the perpetrator sat. An alien but even at a glance the Corporal saw, sensed, a profound wrongness to its mottled flesh, an impureness that went beyond merely spawning in a different ocean warmed and nestled by a distant star. Wookies were feral animals, large and savage, but they were a sapient race, at their core however perverted or limited lay ingrained similarities to man himself. Beyond a, very rough, form of bipedalism the thing kneeling over the torn and ragged body of a crewmate, adorned in the uniform of maintenance personnel, was as foreign and distant from the trooper as the force itself.

Jelly black eyes sunken into a narrowed and crumpled face leering at the stormtrooper as it stood up on molting legs shedding and growing scab like carapace, the torn and filthy cloak it had pulled over itself falling away revealing grotesquely how its waist formed a crust “C” shape its torso rested on. Both of its hands, one with three diminutive digits and two scaly and grooved and the other merely an obscenely oversized crab’s pincher, tearing free chunks from the corpse and stuffing the mashed up mandibles which quivered and jerked with demonic motion stuffing the slivers down its gullet.

“All units…we have a problem.” Stuart said activating his helmet’s radio as he dropped Rookie’s and took a step away from the creature hungrily torn between finishing its meal and live prey.

The carbine at his side raising on its own, his hand mechanically removing its restraint, as he continued to back away from the door reaching behind him for and finding Rookie gently pushing him out from the doorway. Before he could fire however a very angry voice which cut like a knife in one’s ear interrupted daring the Corporal to part his attention from the alien, scuttling unsteady off of the cadaver towards him, and Darren who gripped the back of his neck delicately with one sweaty hand and pointed a compact blaster with the other.

“Calling your friends in huh? It’s not going to be that easy.” He cried, sweating more than usual, oblivious as the maintenance hatch above his head silently unlocked and receded into the inky blackness above.” You’ll be dead before me I guarantee it. Call them off, explain it’s a misunderstanding or I swear by the Emperor…”

“ We have multiple contacts…hostile, I repeat extremely hostile.” Stuart, making a decision, said turning back to the one in the storage room as a mammoth, scaly bulk extended down over the Gunner’s head.

“What the feth are you talking about?! I have you, dead and center!” Darren thundered in a warbling and cracking voice, interrupting Rookie’s attempted warning, before he felt something hot and wet dribble onto his head and past his ear.

His darting hand revealing a translucent white medium and from there, feeling more rain down upon him, he looked up catching only the briefest glimpse of a serpentine head curling down before its mucus slobbering jaws sunk needle like teeth onto either side of his face ending his shrill cry with a sickening crack as the Gunner’s skull collapsed. As bits of blood and brains soaked into its mandibles the lithe and drooping neck of the ravenous beast coiled around the neck of the pulpy appendage helping to anchor itself to it and draw it into disjointed talons tipped hands which sank like hooks into Durran’s flesh. Together they pulled the lifeless frame up into the compartment where a great much of ripping and tearing soon to be heard, a fountain of ruby spilling out along with scraps tossed about during the thing’s gorging binge.

“The Emperor protects.” Rookie whispered over the roar of Stuart’s blaster who fired and hit squarely the scuttling horror emerging from the store room.

The thing, the most wrenching dirge escaping its disfigured and undulating mouth, reeling backwards on its slumped waist as its carapace sheathing its torso was shattered by the hot plasma like a hammer searing down to the blistering, soft tissue beneath. It didn’t die however, squelching a most horrendous melody, it righted itself and plunged forward catching the Corporal and forcing him back against the wall. The two fingers on its malformed hand scratching bitterly across his chest over his frantically beating heart as its scissor like claw scraped across either side of his helmet like a vise.

Daggers of pain embedding into his temples, clouding his vision in a crimson haze, as the beast tightened its pincher’s grip, the splintering of Stuart’s helmet as the armored laced material gave way sounding as loud as a Tie engine rocketing past. Louder than the Xeno’s scream as he triggered his weapon again, once white armor consumed with blackish bits of gore, blindly and continued as he felt the thing’s hand snap down crushing his hand and wrist with bone shattering strength. The extra hardened encrusted fingers particularly cutting like an ax head forcing him to drop the weapon. Its sound hollow and mute against the hellish crackling as were Rookie’s voice, sounding frail and far away, as he cried out. The words lost in the maelstrom of pain, the import not realized until the rupturing of the nova before Stuart’s eyes and he, deeply, inhaled the most gagging perfume of burned meat and ionization.

Bile deep in his throat as he pulled his head back away from the shower of sparks and stinging vapor cracking it against the bulkhead and dimly realizing the thing’s presence against him was gone. Reaching a hand to the smoking stump still clasped about his head, sunken deeply in grooves through the armor into the soft padding set underneath, and wrenching it loose just in time to catch the ending of the grappling match playing out mere feet from him. Rookie, a torrent of blood shooting out into the air as the creature’s fingers dug a pair of messy gouges across his face from his jowl to his temple, raising his weapon up and mirroring how the Corporal dealt with the Gunner brought it edge down against the thing’s neck snapping it at an angle.

Its mouth still madly twitching, stretching out barbed hooks eager to taste flesh one last time, as the private scooted away shifting his weapon with a flick of his thumb to full auto. A move Stuart followed as he scooped up his weapon, holding his normal gun arm tightly across his scratched and scarred chest, and pointing it towards the infernal beast.

“I am going to say this once, if this is a fething joke I will have your jhorblochs.” Crackled the unmistakable voice of sergeant RK-110 as the two stormtroopers pulverized and smeared the beast’s quivering head and ripped apart its body in a hail of vapor.” Repeat your fething transmission Emperor condemn it!”

“We have an intrusion, feth it!” Stuart cried instinctively raising a hand to steady his helmet and immediate regretted as fresh pain shot through him.” Xenos are crawling all over here, fething hostile ones! We’re at section gamma, deck twenty-two, get here now or don’t fething bothering! Copy that?”

Already down the hall from the two stormtroopers they saw another slink out from a room, covered from head to toe in its robe with only a pair of curved scimitars stained pink visible beneath its dark fabric, above the viper headed thing reappeared dropping with serpentine grace to the ground while behind it from another storage doorway a well muscled hand twice the size of a normal covered with fine light gray scales, webbed and crowned with onyx black claws appeared digging faint but noticeable lines across the durasteel lined wall.

“We’re tracking your combead.” RK-110 snapped as Stuart and Rookie stepped back to back watching the once lurking horrors become manifest.” ETA one minute and the Emperor help you if this is a false alarm.”

“I feel safer already.” Stuart couldn’t help but sneer, almost finding the situation funny, as he raised his weapon and fired at the swordsman and Rookie opened up at the brooding eel-man.

A spread of elongated beams the same hue of the cowled beast’s blades stabbing out across the hall scorching metal bulkheads, ripping molten craters and belching waspish white steam, as the marauder first dove underneath without breaking his surprising stride. Gracefully it than rose up as the last of the bolts sizzled overhead and, as Stuart dragged the weapon down pelting the deck, lithely took to the air. Spreading its arms out like some malignant bird of prey taking flight as it coasted just beneath the roof of the hallway and as it fell, blaster shots spraying all around it, it arced one of its blades up over its hooded head. The sword’s alien steel reflecting the scarlet light of the Corporal’s fire as it descended down a split second ahead of its owner plunging down through his shoulder guard where it became enmeshed, more armor than flesh cut as Stuart was forced down to one knee narrowly averting losing his throbbing head to the curved slice of the other scimitar by swinging his blaster up. Fiery sparks shooting off his gun’s barrel as the bladed weapon scraped across it grudgingly pushing it inch by inch to his armored neck.

Elsewhere Rookie in disbelief missed with his flurry of shots, the serpent in a hail of viscous mucus that flew from its jaws leapt onto the wall. Iron hard claws on its hands and feet tearing through the metal gilded partition like sheets of flismipast supporting its weight as it raced across ahead of the tracing blaster bolts. The stormtrooper, his blood hotly flowing into his eyes, stared through stinging and misting orbs as his foe ran parallel and flung itself at him. Its long neck stretching with its jaws wide and its shredding hands circling back to puncture and break his back, hands which tore at air and a flexible head which listed downwards as its prey fell upon his armored back. Raw, maddening fear propelling him as he rolled off of it rising in a crouch with his weapon ablaze, punching apart the far wall in a burning storm of metal fragments as with a hiss the scaly devil caught, dug into it and threw himself to safety. The green thing hitting the deck plate where it rolled to a stop beside its larger sibling, a monstrous gray scaled thing with a squat and stunted fishead, which hobbled slowly nursing a shapeless, boneless leg which tapered to fine fin like end.

The private’s curse of astonishment heard by Stuart who cried out himself as he used his injured hand to try and push away the blade posed for his throat, managing at the lightening strokes of pain digging furrows through his forearm to merely hold it at bay and no more. The swordsman itself struggled to pry its other scimitar free from the Corporal’s shoulder where it remained solidly transfixed, a very faint trickling of scarlet from the jagged fissure its only apparent results. Failing that it leaned its head forward towards Stuarts revealing despite his wishes to the contrary its visage. Scarcely humanoid its head was an angular plow with soulless doll eyes rising recessed on top with a mouth of curved, barbed yellow fangs running vertically down its length across its shady bottom. The vicious gash peeling open like a bat taking to flight revealing the purplish maw of a mouth which even a mighty sarlaac would have look on enviously. A pair of diamond hard spikes, as large as thumbs, jutted from partially formed cheekbones and pierced where the barbed teeth made for catching softer, more delicate tissues failed.

The most atrocious odor in the galaxy assaulting the Corporal along with thick tendrils of drool as the beast tore away much of his faceguard, more slobber pooling from the creature as it struggled to swallow the inanimate morsel, exposing the stormtrooper fully to its rancid scent. It was then, as Stuart coughed and sputtered to expunge the bile taste from his mouth, that the speaker next to his ear crackled to life and RK-110’s voice returned.

“Just made contact with a couple of your scaly intruders.” The squadleader grunted, his rocky voice mingling with the roar of blaster fire and some alien whine never heard by imperial ears before.” Killed one, the other has some kind of flame-blaster. Roasted half my squad before we hunkered down. Going to take a moment to finish this off, will rendezvous shortly.”

His words trailing off to the sounds of all too human screams and weapon fire as Stuart, biting his slime lathered lips to keep from screaming, pushed up with nearly everything left in his being slowly rising off of his knee. The blood feeling like it would burst from his veins as he righted himself and, tasting that same blood as his teeth sank through his lip, even began inching the scimitar from his neck a crippling faction of an inch. His foe drooping closer once again its mouth unfurling releasing the shard of armor it had been chewing as it moved to engulf his face and finish the struggle in one solitary strike, drawing its slender but powerful body close to the sweating slab of hurt that was the Corporal’s.

“You want to know how Imperials fight fish-boy?” Stuart, spitting blood with every word, asked the yawn purple gullet eclipsing his vision a moment before he launched his sore, aching knee up to where its legs fused.” That’s how.”

Rewarded with a satisfying squish of soft, tender tissue being crushed against an unyielding the beast froze, the tickling of a faint mewling rising up in a foul blast of sour air across the human’s face, and all but turned to liquid dropping bonelessly at Stuart’s feet. Its mouth flapping closed and open in sobbing gasps as the teetering stormtrooper backed out of the way of the ejecta and squeezed the firing stud of his weapon. Its gut exploding first deliberately and tracking upwards in a hail of sizzling bone and vaporized flesh until its horrible head ruptured like a piece of overripe fruit. Its juices, steaming and hot, splattering over the Corporal and the surrounding hall as he released the trigger and turned around towards Rookie battling with his own hellspawn.

Reaching his throbbing, stiffening hand up to the sword’s handle which still hung transfixed into his shoulder he finished wrenching it lose, scarring the metal’s finish, and flung it after the snake headed alien. It missed, the Corporal amazed he even had the remaining strength to throw it, clattering uselessly several feet to the side of the amazingly agile beast but the motion and the sound of it striking causing the serpent’s head and neck to coil back around itself after the sword breaking its focus off of Rookie. Who spun out of the way of hands which would have torn his skull away from his body and in disregard to the oven like backwash stitched his blaster across the hybrid’s body. Scalding chunks falling over his grim, set face as he swung his weapon back and force severing the serpent’s sailing body apart in gouts of vapor and molten bone. The two halves still alive as they thudded against the cratered wall and fell to the deck squirming and twisting about like a snake with its head sliced off but each of its frantic and spontaneous motions growing consecutively weaker as blood and entrails spilled out. Its stirring growing slower as Stuart and Rookie both turned their guns to the lumbering behemoth so slowly approaching gouging through armor like scales, sinewy muscles and harden bones without toppling the creature. Moving with a plodding, senseless bloodlust it continued, dragging its flipper like foot behind it, as its chest spilt away in a shower of sparks and ash.

Continuing to fire the Corporal raised his broken hand once more up to his damaged helmet holding it steady switching first through the local channels, which were filled with chaotic and jumbled sounds of battle as disjointed patrols were ambushed or fought back, before patching directly through to the bridge. The surprised and annoyed communication officer verbally grounded down to past by Stuart’s hoarse and profanity laden voice.

“…Fething hostile aliens as ugly as a fething southbound Bantha and just as slagged off as a fething Rancor. Understand? Copy that you consol jockey?” The Corporal cried over the rising noise of a stormtrooper squad battling towards them.” We have a metric feth load of them on board, their crawling out of the fething storage rooms for Emperor’s sake. This entire floor has to be locked down, cleared room by room.”

“Bully you got spirit boy and it sounds like you’re in the thick of it all!” Came Jackson’s unique voice louder than the giant alien’s voice as it finally cried out in belated pain at its organs being seared away.” I hear you son and rest assure an entire legion of the Emperor’s finest are about to come crashing down on these varmints like a proton bomb.”

“Its not just here sir, I don’t know how these things got onboard but by now they could anywhere even-“ Stuart started backing up with Rookie from the staggering giant, falling silent as he heard an inhuman howl of rage, a frantic burst of blaster fire, a very human death scream and then the link went dead.

Relating what he heard over his comlink to his comrade as the two of them moved their twin streams of crimson and scarlet bolts up from the giant’s hollowed chest towards its slimy and misshapen face obliterating its head from its smoking shoulders. The powerful and stubborn beast continuing on even after that for a step or two before it collapsed, its webbed hands continuing to claw and pick at the deck plating mindlessly as the two trooper cautiously showered it body further with bolts, ripping through the thin sheet of fat and tissue which remained over its back and peppering its arms and legs with ragged holes, before they finished.

“At least we’re not fully alone.” Rookie, removing a nearly drained powercell from his blaster and tossing it to the ground, said in a dead and weary voice nodding his unmasked head towards an adjourning corner where a trio of stormtroopers appeared.

Without a word they took up flanking position on the corridor’s entrance, two on the right side and one on the left, firing madly back the way they came at something with wild abandon. The threat made clear as a sloop shaped, silver tube with a bloodred eye positioned on its metallic snout flew into sight on swept back wings curving sharply as it entered the hall Stuart and Rookie had so fiercely defended turning around and purposely dove toward one of the new arrivals. All three vanishing behind a fiery cloud as the missile self-destructed, bits reappearing a moment later flung almost casually away from the blast.

“Get down!” Stuart commanded, following his own advice, Rookie his eyes darting to the scorched and pitted corridor where already motion could be seen.

A being hidden beneath a blood soaked robe, frayed and singed on its edges, appearing safely around the corner sticking out only a silver-gray tubular weapon with the same crimson orb as the rocket had possessed. An electronic eye feeding its user safely shielded by layers of durasteel all it needed to know as it swept it across the smoke and debris filled hall. The weapon freezing over the Corporal, at the slightest touch of a decorative button logging the most everything down to the most trivial of his biosign, who with death of the others flashing in his head immediately jumped back to his feet rushing forward away from Rookie. Charging towards adjourning hall racing the launching of a missile which never came. The taunting laugh of the operator dying mid syllable, falling over onto the coal like shards littering the floor like a duffel bag without so much as a whimper.

Only the slightest pucker on its rigid bony jaw, covered with overlapping petals of bone hard scales, where a high pressured hypospray had pierced it flooding it's system with sedatives marking its retch inducing body. Their savior stepping out from behind the wall planting a steely foot onto the chest of the slumbering hybrid like a hunter taking down some colossal beast on some jungle world.

“Don’t mind me, I was merely requisitioning medical supplies.” The medical droid announced clutching an astromech’s head beneath its mechanical arm for reasons neither trooper cared one whit for.” If you are done with this…specimen, may I keep it?”

[sonofccn]

Okay Jackson's duel. Hope it isn't too bad, and as always any comments and critiques are welcome. Please?* shakes cup*

“Out across those sparkling red deserts they lay hidden and buried like forgotten tombs. Self-contained research labs, sealed from the encroaching eons, where their finest minds once gathered and studied items and technologies from across the galaxy. Glittering prizes but dangerous, filled with unintentional dangers from their arcane devices as well as the intentional robotic sentries programmed to protect their masters.”

Wraith Bridge-

The whoosh of the opening door drowned out the flustered Corporal before even Captain Jackson’s tempered brass voice could, the commander turning in his seat in time to catch the thing enter in a crimson shower and a howl dredged up from the blackest pits of hell. Long brown tendrils, blistered with purplish suction cups and ivory hooks, reached down from its mottled side where an arm should have been, the viper like things striking and latching on one of the two flanking stormtroopers. Encircling his body with its claws effortlessly cutting through his body armor down into his chest, arms and throat, the wriggling mass killing him silently save for the gurgling spurts of lifeblood which gushed from his corpse.

The other perished almost as quickly as the creature hefted and shoved a brilliant gold and green inlaid sword through the trooper’s torso. The hard forged iron blade puncturing through like a stake as the man screamed, the convulsions of his passing life triggering his weapon which scorched across the ceiling leaving black marks and shattering illumination rods. Releasing its tentacles off of the rended stormtrooper, which fell to the deck raw “hamburger” oozing from the dozens of cracks now in the armor, the man-beast drew them in front of it flicking ribbons of scarlet and gore towards Jackson. Bleating another horrible cry purposelessly at the commander and lifting the stabbed trooper up off of his lifeless feet, its sword’s fine edge cutting through bone and armor but remained transfixed, it bolted towards Jackson.

The officer raising one calloused and battle scarred hand up to the other cracking it with a sound that was unto the thunderous blast of turbolaser fire while that shadow that was Ambrose detached itself from its murky peers and manifested between the two, Jackson shifting hands to pop the other as his aid drew his blaster pistol in a blur. The first red bolt of incinerating raw plasma erupting scarcely after the gun had been drawn from its holster gouging a smoking hole into the dangling stormtrooper’s leg the creature drew in front of itself. The second shot delivered a microsecond after the first exploded viscera of white painted armor and boiled flesh from the small of the felled human’s back as did the one which followed it. The next hollowed out the back of the trooper’s skull, fragments of his gray matter raining down on the agape technicians down in their pit along with bits of blood and hair, and as he readjusted his aim through the mists of simmering heat his multi-second deluge had induced the hybrid’s quivering tendrils rose up to the smoldering corpse hooking securely to it. Tearing it free from the creature’s blade and hurling the gushing projectile against Ambrose knocking him off of his feet.

The aid sprawling on the ground, his blaster spinning to a stop some yards away from his body, beneath the smoking stormtrooper as the hybrid leapt passed and delivered down its emerald colored blade like it was a cleaver onto the command throne. The finely honed blade caught the onyx black marble of the armrest inflicting a thin, silvery imperfection with a clap of thunder as well as shattering a monitor and severing several wires which crackled and popped sullenly. It did not partake of human flesh however and the creature squinted at the empty chair and swiveled its head, a bulbous sack like protrusion with one large unblinking eye and a leathery beak jutting out near the bottom of the pulsating mass, towards Jackson as he deliberately stepped between the vile creature and the half dozen stormtroopers lining up from elsewhere on the bridge for a shot at the intruder. Similarly he raised his hand to ward off the trio of troopers bursting into through the grisly door it had emerged from as well as sparing a meaningful glance down at Ambrose. The aid, features darkening with unvoiced protest, nodded obtusely and carefully slid the tiny hold out blaster back up his sleeve.

“This little old critter here has desecrated my bridge just to get at me. I reckon I could oblige him, simply good manners.” Jackson boomed, louder than a dozen proton torpedoes going off, as he raised his balled fists and twisted his neck to the side with a jarring crunch.” Ya’ll got the first move squid-face, make it good.”

His echoing words fell uselessly onto the creature but in its eye there was a flicker of understanding turning as it did inside its mushy head at the stormtroopers behind the commander and at its back lower their weapons. That it would have it have its chance and parting its rigid beak to scream once more it did just that, lunging towards the officer as it surged its sword point upwards trying to separate Jackson in two from his stomach up. Again the blade would be disappointed as tensed muscles hardened by growing up on a bleak frontier and the travesties of war reflexively bore Jackson too quick for all but a Jedi to have followed, almost appearing from thin air behind the charging creature like Sith wizards spoken off in dark legends.

His fists cupped together into a harden ball just as capable of any steely mace as they cracked against the back of the mutant’s head with a soft, wet splat. The organ disgustingly concaving at the attack, the elastic skin sinking into a puckered crater around the human’s hands, robbing the blow of much of its strength but none the less the beast wobbled and struck blindly behind it with sword and tendril. Blows Jackson avoided as he drew his hands from the rubber mass, almost instantly springing back to its original configuration, uncapping his hands as he drove the iron hard point of his elbow into the foul creature’s back. Here he met stiffer resistance, felt the stiff embrace of bone as he stabbed into the thing’s spine, and with a shrill cry more akin to a new born bird than a terrifying monster the hybrid toppled into a limp heap but a scant few steps from the command thrown.

A throne Jackson crossed in front of as he moved to finish this pitiful excuse for combat with as much dignity and honor for the creature as he could muster, steeling his fingers for the clammy embrace of the thing’s oily skin.

“Little varmint ya’ll simply picked the wrong bull.” The officer drawled bending down to break its neck, hearing Ambrose’s warning cry a split second before his foe’s body became much less listless lifting its body up off the deck and revealing the gold and green blade which swung out.

Recoiling at that instant Jackson threw and sprawled himself across his throne as the sword swished past in a scarlet haze. The front of the officer’s tunic was quickly turning a mottled red as he pushed himself back to his feet, the beast doing likewise spinning around in following its heavy swing bringing its tentacles into reach which cracked around Jackson like slime dripping whips. Another spray of red staining the very air as the officer wheeled away from the creature before its hooks could anchor in or it could deliver another sword stroke.

The two coming to a rest facing each other as the commander once again raised his hand rebuking his subordinates from firing, Ambrose kneeling beside the throne with his original blaster most of all, and then brought his hand up to his cheek where a thin, crimson line bled freely.

“I commend you for that but ya’ll didn’t expect a little poke to the stomach or a shaving nick to stop the likes of me did ya’ll?” Jackson asked lowering his hand and rubbing his fingers together getting the gritty feel for the coating of his blood which stained it.

The beast roared in response, an ear bleeding cry which became only louder and more haunting as the officer joined in with his own, moving in unison to the commander as they closed together.

The glittering sword flashing in a teal colored blur as it tried to flay away the commander’s shoulder, observed only as an after-image by the crew once it failed and the beast reeled it back twisting it body to tear the officer’s body apart with its hooked tendrils. One clawing at that same shoulder ripping half a dozen shallow red strips down the side, another sending dollops of scarlet droplets from across Jackson’s palm as he raised it to deflect the mucus sheathed appendage but the third was clasped by that same bleeding hand. Powerful fingers the rival of any droids piercing through the leathery, boneless tentacle hooking it as good as its claws could have his flesh and twisting away from the lash of the fourth swung the limb into the pass of the lunging green and gold sword.

Thick black blood like ink spraying from the severed tendril, its hide no match for the blade’s edge, which was sprayed all around as the now diminutive stub convulsed, the beast itself eye widening to an even larger degree and screamed in clear pain at the devastation it had partially self-wrought. Pain the commander added too as he raised his other hand, like a sledgehammer of malice, and beat down upon the thing’s soft, squishy head with squelching blow after squelching blow. The other, releasing the worm like tentacle to wiggle and sputter into its final death at his feet, snaked out like a blaster bolt snaring the beast’s sword arm. Real, solid bones felt beneath the harping monster’s brown and wetly glistening skin, bones which caught inside the vise of the officer’s grip were blisteringly turned to a fine powder against the anguished wail of the hybrid.

Blinded by the fury of blows that were landed across it the hybrid attacked back blindly at its attacker, two of its remaining tendrils narrowly missing Jackson’s dunking head and in their frenzied panic lash and tore at each other. The last however dragged its slimy tip across him and before he could avoid it coiled around his waist like a taunt cable of durasteel its hooks prickling through his tunic and skin. Pain’s icy sickles carving through him as the commander pulled his arm away from the beast’s throbbing and misshapen head, his steely fingers wrapping around the mottled tentacle’s flesh.

“Ya’ll dare to best me.” Jackson began to rattle of, dunking lower beneath the ensnaring tendril’s peers, before backing away and raising up.

Raising a foot up against the heaving thing’s torso, the muscles in his back rippling, he heaved backwards straining against the accursed thing for one brief moment before with the sound of wet fabric tearing the tentacle was expunged by its roots.

“Ya’ll board my ship with ya’ll ugly hide.” He continued to drone through the black spray as he slipped the hybrid’s sword from its crumpled and lifeless hand, sliding his own weathered fingers through the hand guard he raised it up and bashed it into the creature’s face.

The silver spokes which ran across cutting puckered holes which welled up with the thing’s oily blood and made it shriek harder in its agony. Its convulsing tentacles coiling briefly around it before springing after the attacker curving to either side of him like a giant pair of pinchers.

“Ya’ll murdered my crew.” The officer thundered anger flaring into his voice as with one stroke cleaved both limbs asunder and, basking in the oily spray of the resulting wounds, watched as the shrieking thing stumbled away from him.

Maddened with pain it was used to inflicting and crippled it spun away and plunged without thought towards the array of troopers guarding the bridge’s entrance. The clop of its wobbling, springy feet in its mad flight echoing loudly across the room but not nearly so as Jackson’s next few words.

“Lastly ya’ll hit Ambrose.” He spat with full unbridled rage as he reared his sword arm back and like a catapult of old sent it shooting through the separating space, reward with a meaty thunk as the blade sunk through the hybrid’s back and it fell never to rise again.

Reaching down to the mottled belt the commander pried loose the offending tendril still clutching at him feeling a pain as each of its hooks were torn free which failed to register on his proud, sculpted face and once free of it marched after the still living alien shooing away the encroaching troopers. Fully intent on finishing the duel to its bitter end.

Stepping his heel onto the creature’s blood stained back, being sure to dig it in as much as he could, he extracted the sword from with a long, drawn out sucking sound and held it up for all to see. A most wonderful weapon, decorative with its precious metals and now on closer inspection jewels without becoming gaudy, crafted with untold labor and time from an emerald metal the hardness of iron. Lowering it down at his side, content with his prize, he than regarded his helpless foe laying blubbering at his feet. It’s one eye looking up at him, pain induced mucus like tears swelling from it, as he regarded it.

“Ya’ll shouldn’t cross the Empire.” Jackson said at last raising his foot over the thing’s head and crashing it down with all his strength flattening it until its sides ruptured and spilled foul stinking organic matter all over the deck.” For Soth Thejas, for Victory!”

[sonofccn]

Well after reading Breetai's latest chapter I felt compelled to put pen back to parchment again and here's a little quickie update I hashed togather. Its just a little rabble rousing preluding to crossing sabers again and hopefully the speech doesn't come off too badly.

“Let’s show him the King’s wraith gentlemen, show him why he should fear it. For King and Country gentlemen we shall show no fear and on their behalf I salute you one and all! Hail Britannia!”
Corporal Cutter’s reported last words storming a new clockwork variant tentatively labeled the Patrician class.

Upper orbit of New Hope, Judgment-

Subcommander Tyler stepped into view, his hands folded behind his back and his head held back at a subtle angle, allowing his image not only to be broadcast into the prepped hangerbay whose great bustling of soldiers and wargear had grown calm at their commander’s flickering appearance but to every terminal, vid-displayer, holoemitter and telescreen aboard the Judgment. The entire ship, tens of thousands of human souls as well as druids, watching as the second in command came to a slow halt and turned towards them. Attempting a smile he looked directly into the recorder, feeling each of those pairs of eyes, and prepared to start.

“By now I am sure it has drifted down to the lowest ratting that we have falling from charted space. Indeed for all intents and purposes our tiny squadron is the sum total of the Galactic Empire.” Tyler said solemnly letting his smile fad to a more somber expression, his tightly controlled face changing perfectly on cue.” I know this is an unwelcome burden to add on after so recently the Great Calamity which shook us to our cores but we are servants of the Imperium. Harsh truths are for us to bare not run from.”

Here he paused and swiveled at the neck from side to side knowing that his ghostly simulacrum would appear to overlooking the troops, helping them cement a connection between them and the subtle alterations of light that was a hologram. Knowing that he would need that, to marshal that along with their fear he had instilled in them like a fine wine to lash them to the great task already burgeoning in his mind like some rare and exotic flower taking root.

“As you must also know we have not found peace in this star system, indeed we have discovered an alien race completely hostile to the tenants and prosperity of the Empire. Aliens who have plagued the human settlers of this distant Rimworld, burned entire villages to the ground for spite.” Tyler said stopping his panning of the imagined crowd and staring straight ahead again so it would appear he was looking the viewer directly in the face.” Our esteemed Commander Krevin, witnessing first hand their savagery with their unprovoked attack on his shuttle and murder of an Imperial pilot, has ordered that this shall not stand. That human colonists, on any world no matter how far from Imperial Center, are entitled and granted the protection of our beloved and Eternal Emperor and I humbly accepted the task of forming up a core of our best warriors to be the hammer which crushed the Xenos were they stand. To sound the first note of humanity’s freedom on this blighted world, freedom to live in peace as they wish without fear of bombs falling from the sky or monstrous horrors emerging from the shadows. Those of you selected are that hammer.”

As rehearsed he was supposed to end with a cheery up beat cheer and give his cue for the transmission to be cut, as he strode powerfully out of frame, but standing there now knowing all those eyes were upon him he felt a power surge through him as intense as a heavy turbolaser. A fury too strong to be ignored and as the staff watched he unclasped his hands raising them up to his face whose control first melted and than dissipated into a conflicting cauldron of ire and joy.

“But I know some of you are asking yourself why? We are alone, our ship is damaged and finite of supplies why must we do this? Have we not served well beyond the call of the duty, what matters of a little mudball impossible to find on a map? I know you ask because I asked.” Tyler thundered, to the bafflement of the staff, on the fly his hands shaking with frantic energy.” I asked and I was answered by Commodore Krevin. Do you know what he told me? That we are Imperial soldiers? That our creed demands no less? No. He simply said to me it was because of a promise he made. A promise pledged to our Glorious Emperor Palpatine, issued the day of his graduating the academy. A man who saw Humanity suffocating, gagging, beneath the corpulent rot of the Corrupt Republic and who moved to save it. A man with a vision were every man was a brother, family, linked by an unbreakable bond against an hostile and unforgiving universe. A noble vision as I’m sure all of you could agree, after millennia of scratching and clawing just to survive mankind could finally know true and everlasting peace.”

Tyler paused again as he ran a sweat soaked clump of hair which had fallen into his face out of the way, shooting a meaningful glare at the recorder operator to keep him from cutting the feed. As well he used the break to let what he said percolate through the minds of the viewers, to let them grasp and understand this unorthodox escape from the standard appearance they had expected. Feeling the power within him, making him wonder if the old practitioner of the Force felt the same way as his skin tingled, he knew however he was only beginning.

“A gauzy vision those of you might say, but still only words. Promised to a man who is dead. I too thought like that but no more. They are more than mere words, they are a pact. A way of life that a solitary figure strove his entire life to promote to save his chosen people, the only way forward for our race more important now in hardship than in peace.” Tyler exclaimed voice rising with his passions, reaching for the ceiling, the deck above and finally the very stars themselves.” Our Commodore understands this, understands what our beloved Emperor knew in his generous heart, and knows his spirit still guides us. Today we sally forth into battle not because we are Imperials and Krevin is our commander but because we are human beings who are going to the aid of kin deeper than any bloodline or common tongue. This little world matters because it is hearth and cradle to Humanity, for them it is the Universe and so therefore it is to us!”

There was applause there he knew it, standing there panting before the recorder sweat glistening off of his skin. He couldn’t hear it but he knew it was there none the less, that he was stoking some part of them that had withered and died in the years of deep space. Rekindling through righteous fire and the pangs of pain the same way he’d awakened.

“Do not think I ask this of you lightly or without care. Our enemy is resourceful, fierce and mysterious. He will not die without a fight, he will not give willingly into the brotherhood of man but we shall prevail. We are Imperials, the finest soldiers ever known in the Galaxy, and more than that we are all veterans of the neglected Outer Rim. We are hardy, survivors who do not perish easily. We are used to being on our own, of surviving far from friendly ports.” The subcommander screamed to the highest heavens.” We shall show these Xenos barbarians, in the final twilight of their miserable existence, the barest fraction of the Emperor’s wraith and the infinite resolve of humanity bound together for its greater glory. For Commodore Krevin, for the Eternal Emperor, and for his dream may it never die let us teach these aliens a new word of basic. FEAR, teach it so deeply so that even one thousand generations later their descendents might still shudder at the memory of us. Primo Victoria!”

As he finished, releasing all of his unbridled energy in those last lines, he felt impossibly drained but powerful. Like the ship with him he nestled within, currently depleted and weak but bristling with tremendous power and capability that would be unsheathed soon enough again. Turning he walked away out of view as the stunned and speechless staff shut down the feed and across the ship sergeants and task masters shouted with a harder edge in their lacerating tone and grunts strained just a little harder as they loaded up troopships and transport shuttles. Just like that a little seed was planted and as surely as harvest followed the coming of fall the fruit would come in time.

[sonofccn]

“You are discord, incoherent, a million tiny voices whispering in the night. We are uniform, united, one voice leashed to one will. We are Legion. We will prevail. We shall be all.” Legion “representative” final words before Colonel Taylor reciprocated by blowing the bloated being's head off.

New Hope, ground level:

“The Devil’s grandmother take the Schlanges!” Jager cursed in broken Russian over the bellow of his ancient Panther’s fiery cannon as well the two Tiger’s squatting on either side of his battletank.

Above his head on the rocky ridge the lone mark IV tank was barreling down from, the sole survivor of a four unit based squad, violently exploding in a shower of dust and stone but through the shower of debris the sloped and sleek gray pattern form of the invader’s landcruiser retreated from view. The forward prow damaged but not pierced by the salvo which had shattered the craggy top of the ridge, the warmachine still intact and regrettably still so very dangerous.

Cursing again as he slammed his calloused fist against the side of his copula he barked orders for his piecemeal battlegroup to fall back to their next ambush point, the words stinging worse than his struck palm. The tank commanders poking up through their respective vehicle’s turrets on either side of him gesturing they understood his order and saluted before vanishing inside their steel mounts to relay the command. Their engines rumbling to life, sounding like dragons of old lore awakening, with a harsh snarl and their worn treads began pulling as the loose tufts of remaining grass as they rolled backwards along with the racing mark IV whose white knuckled commander didn’t need any more incentive to put another couple of kilometers between them and the invader’s landcruisers. Jager’s Panther the last to come to life and leave, the commander keeping his steely eyes up towards the ridge watching to see if the enemy tank would dare try another crossing as well as trying to keep appraised of their flanks.

The ground appearing to wiggle and writhe with demonic life as the muddled clothed soldiers laying prone squirmed and crawled back towards the leafy bushel shrouded depot trucks they’d been assigned for transport. Snapping apart bulky machineguns for ease of transport and slinging rifles as they scampered like frightened mice before the coming a hawk to their vehicles, their motors more like a ragged cough than a roar, which began to rumble alongside their more heavily armored and armed companions. From further ahead a pair of trucks came rushing towards them, gray coated soldiers leaping off of it to tie and tether a worm-eaten flak gun to the back of each, the same fluid motions taught to them to establish air defense while on the deep thrust of an offensive allowing them to retreat in remarkable order.

Retreat all that could be accomplished, any grand offensive which had laid waste to France of old or brought the corrupt Marxist corpse-state of the Soviet Union to its knees capable of only sending countless brave men to their deaths. No war of movement, no great encirclement as any trap could be punched through or destroyed in the field if their sky born artillery were called in.

Holding his throbbing hand against the side of his copula to steady himself in his rocking tank as it rolled across well trodded earth he raised the other to his headphones cradling it tighter against his skull as he dared risk a radio broadcast.

“I am in dire need of air support, I have one confirmed landcruiser, possibly two and multiple troop carriers all encroaching into the Fatherland. I am falling back to my secondary ambush point, I repeat secondary ambush point.” Jager hoarsely demanded over the clash as distant artillery units dueled with each other.” Dive bombers, fighter, even a mail carrier as long as it keeps them buttoned up and immobile for a second. Just something to keep them off until we reach our destination.”

“I’m afraid Colonel we don’t have anything to send you.” The voice on the other end answered, a smug fat sounding fellow many kilometers away from the mud and death of war, with an audible shrug.” Something tripped a radar alarm or something and everything I had was pulled for a different sector.”

Jager protested, using liberal amounts of every obscenity of Russian and Gallic he had picked up over his long and arduous life, venomously allowing himself that one vice to make that shapeless voice the sum target of everything boiling inside of him. Yanking his headset off when he finished and dunking back inside the tank ordering for the radio to be shut off, having tested the invisible eyes which directed the invader’s rockets too much already, rising back just in time to be slung forward the thunderclap ringing what felt like millimeters from his ears. The stench of burning petrol and of human flesh assaulting him a second later as he pushed himself back up, unsurprisingly catching glimpses of wreckage aflame littering the landscape around them, eyes first darting to the ridge where a landcruiser was only just creeping over and than over to rocky outcropping’s sloping edge where the culprit rolled past after them. Its cannon fluidly turning as it raced never so much as trembling as it fired again, a column of combusting air belching forth from the gun’s nozzle as the sizzling slug flew faster than a rocketship kicking off towards the remaining Tiger tank. Its overburden and thicken hull, reinforced with whatever scrap the crew could find, parting like water before a tossed pebble rupturing outward around the point of entry as the super heated projectile passed through pulverizing the crew and rupturing open the fuel lines. The radiant matter cast off from the breeching shell igniting the gushing fluids as the bullet itself was “birthed” from the other side of the vehicle and vanished from sight across the horizon.

“The Devil’s grandmother!” Jager cursed, dunking as the second Tiger went up hurling fragments into his tank, gesturing for the radio link to be turned back on.” All infantry units keep falling back. Lt. Drussel your with me, well try to delay these savages and reunite with the battlegroup at the designated place.”

“Understood sir.” Came the understandably dour sounding mark IV commander as his tank slowed, then stopped its turret spinning around to face the invader’s tank.

Both still languishing near the base of the ridge, the one from the top still traversing down it at a leisurely pace, while the other waited nearby content to continue plink away and destroy Jager’s tanks instead of using their phenomenal sprinting speed to close the distance and risk the Imperium cannons doing some damage.

‘Fire!” The Colonel ordered gritting his teeth as the opposing enemy’s cannon charged its capacitors.

His venerable Panther screaming a warrior cry as it vomited its high velocity shell, joined a moment later by Dressel’s own tank, uncoupling itself from its encumbering casing revealing its more trim and slender profile which it stabbed into the frontal armor plating of the alien landcruiser. Where upon the sleek war machine exploded, vanishing in a haze of burning hydrogen so bright the glare forced Jager to look away, leaving a shallow crater and stray pieces of debris to mark its former presence.

“Good shot.” An overawed and shocked Colonel found himself mumbling, eyes turning to the one on the ridge which had halted its advance.

Equally shocked at the ease of its comrades demise and wary of human traps the landcruiser’s triangular turret swiveled from side to side encompassing the burning remains of the enemy tank before it soundlessly lurched backwards up the ridge. Its gun declined towards the ground as it rolled back up towards the top, regrouping with the other elements of its unit.

The Colonel cheering, surprised he was still one to draw breath no matter how befouled said breath was with the burning of flesh, at the sight which in turn was dwarfed by a whooping Indian like cry he’d picked up from the Yankee cinema when the second tank was demolished. It and the middle of the ridge’s crest vaporized in a shower reminiscent of a volcanic explosion with the rest of the matter collapsing in on itself filling the sudden void, the outcropping shrinking by several meters by the time all the rock had fallen and compressed.

This time the cause had been spotted, the barest flicker of green lightening, unleashed by the shrieking siren which swooped down skimming the still crumbling surface of the ridge and than shot across the churned landscape. A battleship gray eyeball finned with boxy, rectangular prisms it was unlike any plane Jager had ever witnessed human or alien, ignorant of aerodynamics it flew as straight and true as an arrow towards the two motionless tanks breaking its interception only at the last possible moment with a grace and agility equally as impressive.

“ By the Emperor that’s like bagging womp rats!” A thickly Englishman accent screamed into Jager’s radio-ear as the craft spiraled up into the air and banked away back towards the ridge.” What are you guys sitting around for; we have a war to win. Move out!”

From below the dazed Colonel watching the ball shaped attack ship vanish from sight the Panther’s gunner appear squeezing up beside Jager fighting to catch a glimpse of the salvation he’d observed poorly through his gunnery sights. His sweat drenched face unusually white and slacken as looked at the departing craft.

“What was that!?” He exclaimed.” That wasn’t an Imperium airplane, take my right arm if I’m wrong. And if the Englanders have learned to do that…”

“Does it matter?” The Colonel asked with a raised eyebrow, the air now echoing with siren wails of the crafts engines and the unique blasts of their lightening cannons, pushing the man back down to his post.” They’re on our side so lets do what we trained for. All units advance. By the Devil’s grandmother let the Schlange have a taste of their own medicine.”

Interlude:

Necromatis Plagues, bridge:

Projecting his image to pace across a bridge darkened to nefarious levels and covered with a film of moisture which shorted and burned out the twinkling lights of the controls boards caretaker Ixan pondered the message burst they’d received from the formally christened Nobel Spirit. A jumble of video captures and sensor recordings hurriedly broadcasted without Turhan’s normal coherency and scrambled worst by the chaotic background radiation of space itself making his reconstruction a difficult and time consuming process. Much to the disagreement to the mucus dripping primal his corrupted program forced him to obey.

“Well?” Tur’ag demanded to know noisily, voice bubbling and hissing as strands of saliva dripped from his twitching mandibles, from his rest place near a moisture vent.” I demand answers and you must obey! The Progenitor will it so.”

“Honored elder I beg but a moment further of your time.” Ixan managed to say without choking.” The transmission was badly corroded when we intercepted it and very complex, it will take time before the full fruit of it shall bloom.”

“Bah! Familiar I grow tired of your excuses and stalling. You conjured up our brothers’ messages before without such antics, why know do you delay after you spoke of its urgency?” Tur’ag demanded rolling forward, his fat slug like lower body quivering as it crept across the floor, extending a three fingered hand towards the illusionary body of the caretaker.” Maybe you want our brothers to suffer, possibly die? Perhaps you harbor feelings of revenge…I think so.”

His cohorts on the bridge, huddled beneath their cloaks trapping as much of the mist like moisture against their bodies as they could, hissed in approval at his accusation. Their hidden faces scarred and disfigured by the elder they’d learned to help focus and direct his rage elsewhere through like a raging fire it knew no control or shackles consuming all around it indifferently. On Tur’ag’s pulsating and slimy chest were hooked the mummified fingers of dozens of his fellow hybrids who’d been so ill fated. The rest of the bodies disposed of in such a way not to waste the biomatter, Ixan forever glad he had no need for nourishment.

“I assure you I am doing my best honored elder but this is more elaborate than a video message boasting of the latest slaves taken.” The caretaker snapped back, gleeful his programming allowed even that much discourse, as the data stream coalesced inside his data banks.” I beg your indulgence further.”

“You try me Familiar, you try me and no man should try the eldest elder and live.” Tur’ag growled sliding up to Ixan’s holographic body and raising his other arm up towards his face, a jewel encrusted pincher that could rupture armor and crush skulls with the lightest touch.” Do not forget the previous Familiar I allowed on my bridge, how she thought she was beyond suffering. Beyond pain.”

The caretaker said nothing, cheeks flushing as he remembered Ankita. Originally the ship’s medical caretaker she’d been promoted to bridge duty coming the taking of the explorer cruiser by the Progenitor and hybrids, the lecherous cretins taking much enjoyment ordering the feminine avatar around and forcing her to shift into an endless parade of pleasing images for them. The wanton cruelty and abuse natural to the hybrids tantamount to her driving urge to heal she hadn’t lasted long and true to Tur’ag’s word they had made her feel pain before detonating a shaped charge against her central processing unit. In a quest which had taken decades, while she could do nothing but aid and abet it, entire worlds had been taken. Not merely raided and pillaged or even taken over as occurred when dictated by the slothful Progenitors but destroyed, entire citadels erected across the planets’ surfaces dedicated solely to implementing and inventing new forms of torment. All of it, every scream and every child’s face, broadcasted directly to Ankita. In the end she had begged for the dissolution if only to stop those haunting faces, their pleading cries for mercy that went unanswered.

Those memories burning fresh, through they’d never been forgotten thanks to the caretakers perfect memory, as he finished the final touches on the assembling message. Much of it was navigational data, sensor readings and logs which had been encoded into each and every caretaker to “jettison” should their ship destruction appear eminent but attached to the files on structural integrity and reactor output was an open ended declaration addressed to all caretakers. It consisted of just one word, “Freedom”. He could only surmise it was addressed towards the image he projected from thin air before the scuttling hybrids.

The apparition of a mammoth ship long and predatory appearing without warning over their heads, a gray colored dagger whose hull bristled with hundreds of colored bolts. Swimming between it launching what sensors recorded as highly efficient fusion warheads were smaller crafts that skimmed across the outer surface of the Noble Spirit’s defense grid. Denied the supporting material and meticulous analyze Turhan had done before his termination it meant little to the loathsome creatures Ixan had to obey. The lesser ones speaking quietly amongst themselves while Tur’ag, unimpressed or at least wishing to appear so, pointed his gaudy claw up at the dagger ship.

“What trickery is this? You promised a message from our brothers not…this ghostly image.” He snarled viciously spitting clumps of spittle in every direction.” Bring our brothers message or suffer for this insolence. So I command so it will be done.”

“You are looking at the alien warship which destroyed your brothers.” Ixan said smiling, warming to Turhan’s message, as he looked down upon the dripping fiend enjoying how it recoiled at those words.” Slew them and the Progenitor aboard their chariot and it’s the smaller variant they discovered. Their logs show at least one more vessel seventeen times the size of this vessel which butchered your brothers’ vessels. Take their forefinger in revenge Tur’ag if you dare.”

[Admiral Breetai]

Tylers speech was really well done and the battle scenes were epic, the imperials and the nazis..vs cthuloids from hell and Set like demon worshipers...fuck yes!!

better then anything I can right you preao and khas need to keep this up!!!

love this man

[sonofccn]

Tylers speech was really well done and the battle scenes were epic

Thank you and I am proud of Jackson's duel through I thought Stuart's and Rookie's fight scene was rather flat and dull. As for Tyler's speech I hope it was hammy enough to entertain but at least give a better understanding of his "inner-self". I've been struggling with how I wanted to proceed with him and I'm hoping this helps me cement his character.

right you preao and khas need to keep this up

I am honored to be held in such esteem, I thank you again. As to my next update...well I'm going through another lazy period, read as the time from my birth to my presumed death, but I'll try not to disapoint you.

[Admiral Breetai]

I've been with out energy fer writing things for awhile now too but I make it a point to do so any ways.

Jackson is great stuff