A NEW TERROR( STAR WARS CROSSOVER)

[Praeothmin]

I feel like I keep repeating myself, but you keep churning out the poetry, very nice!

That rascally droid is plotting...
Is this your version of SW's Skynet 2.0 coming up? :)

I see you also liked my idea of "Imperial speeds":

anti-sleep chems we’ve all been taking

:)

[Praeothmin]

So...



Update soon?




Pleez?

[sonofccn]

Short update. Hope the music links work. Will try and have a third "segment" up by the end of the day.

“ Humans…you claim the stars as your birthright but have you accomplished to be so worthy? Legends speak of my people plying the great gulf in great cities lit by the star-furnaces, smiting worlds at our merest displeasure. Feats which now dwarf us in magnitude and what of you? Mere insects buzzing at our feet…” Martian warlord idle musings during negations for an upcoming battle against a rival.

New Hope, nine thousand meters above sea level:

I.Aces High-Iron Maiden

The warning of his wingman crackling poorly through the faded and worn headset Addam, grinning devilishly beneath his borrowed helmet, peered out through the thick canopy glass towards the squat, almost smoke stack like fighter flying beside him. At the pilot, fully enclosed within his flight gear and helmet, who tapped with a gloved hand at the side of his helm, emblazoned with a detailed hawk with its wings spread not unlike some Imperial pilots decorated their own gear, signaling if there was a problem with the communication system and then pointed ahead and away from his fragile craft.

“I read ya’, A-OK matey!” He embellished deeply raising the visor up from his helmet and saluting as best he could inside the enclosed flight cabin before taking back the controls.

Adjusting his speeding warbird’s wingtip away from the other plane as well as edging slightly ahead completing the three pointed wedge formation he and his two “escorts” who were guiding him through a basic flight run around the airstrip. From his position the pilot who’d had corrected Addam’s slipping posture, one “Oberleutnaut” Grout-Meyer, wiggling the rear of his thrust-vector attack vessel in a coded response to signal his approval of his learning pupil. Brash, eager with an indivisible determination he was the spitting image of the holo creation which beckoned men from across the galaxy to enlist to the Imperial starfighter corpse. He’d instantly warmed to the “technical advisor”, perhaps in hopes of getting a chance at the stick of one the Empire’s own fighters, unlike the craggy slab of human granite that was “Stabshauptmann” Eric Von Hect. Insisting on the full name and rank when being addressed by a “glorified civilian” with “childish fancies”.

The gravelly voiced man far older than the at times whimsical Meyer, gray hair receding from his scalp with livid improperly healed scars blotched randomly across his face he had the same air veterans of the Clone Wars carried about them. Remembering a time to the last war, the “day of fire” as he snortingly recalled it, when he had risen to meet the enemy high among the clouds. Earning the wounds, the burns, which scarred him and which forever barred him from flying in defense of his Empire, reduced to a glorified instructor to “children” sent by the dozens to perish against the Viper air armada. Holding Addam with the same approximation of worth and appreciation a noted scholar would teaching one of the chaotic minded Gungan race.

“ Keep her on course.” He growled in reprimand.” You bust up and there won’t even be enough left of you to bounce.”

“Roger,Roger.” The scientist answered in a high and squeaking approximation of a battledroid, breaking out into giggling a moment later.” Hey can we coax a little more speed out of these babies? Where’s the afterburners…have you licked that problem yet?”

The query one of dozens which popped and formed into Addam’s mind, its self largely free and needing distraction piloting the simple but sturdy strikecraft by rote of muscle and unthinking impulses. Questions which caused Meyer to laugh into his radio, fighter rolling over as it turned with the speartip continuing on its flight course, fighting upstream to get an explanation while Hect plowed through with words weighted like lead caskets crushing all dissident.

“Engine-boosts are prohibited save for intercepts!” He gnarled, like a Rancor with a broken jaw, over the crackling spice of the communicator.” Then burn petrol like a grease fire, we’ll be running on fumes when we finish this run. Go setting one of those off like a blockbuster and you’re through. Dead as a Yank’s soul.”

Finishing he rumbled to a close, like far of cannon fire, already hammered with questions on the mechanics of their engine-boosts, Addam’s mind afire suddenly with ideas on how it could be improved, on if the engine failed was there an ejection system and if so what process did they employ not possessing repulsars as well as curiosity of what a “Yank” was. A short and brutish turn of phrase for the Englander world he’d gathered the natives were at war with, or something he hadn’t really been paying attention instead converting a pen illuminator into a cutting torch, some other world-system? Questions the veteran pilot failed to answer as zooming down from above an enemy craft made its appearance.

Emerald bolts of energy whizzing past the canopy of Addam’s fighter followed a heart beat later by the gray painted strikecraft itself exploiting its far greater speed to bolt past in part of long, snake like arc which would see it flung back towards them. The air cleaved and shoved apart rocking the scientist’s plane like a cork suspended on a turbulent sea, no artificial dampeners dulling the bone jarring crunch of flesh and bone against glass and metal. For the briefest of moments he envied the merging of the synthetic in his colleague but then the pain subsided replaced with the raw exhilaration James was protected from by his scarab of durasteel the same of wound’s sour touch. Rightening himself and stabilizing his craft, head already panning looking for his wingmates who had at the first sign of danger both peeled away and shot up in a fraction of radiies impressive for ones who lacked inertia compensators. The two already dots shriveling to tinnier specks across his canopy’s glass, gobbling up hundreds of meters in ascent before just as suddenly diving.

Addam leaning forward in his seat, forgetting consciously he was at the controls, watching in anticipation as the two curved like swinging free vorpal blades to intercept, the center of which the enemy flew. The two interceptors without verbal communication, only the most slightest of movements of the crafts themselves from side to side conveying all they needed while both hurtled at nearly a thousand kilometers an hour. The two shifting in opposing directions so that they, and their voluminous gouts of cannon fire, passed safely blanketing the nebulous zone between their fire. Yet from the fiery wastes they left behind the enemy strikeship passed unmolested, its gray hull unmarred or marked, straight like an arrow towards Addam yet, still playing, its pilot chose not to unleash its potent fury. Instead firing its maneuvering thrusters to spin like a top, protected from all but the worst effects by compensators, after the two native fighters.

“I got him!” The scientist nearly screamed jumping in his seat as he thumbed the safties off of his gun nodes, squeezing it down. “ I got him!”

Fearing the prow of his craft had exploded, sharp kick shuddering back through him, its outline vanishing under copious smoke and ejecta as its nose mounts broke from their slumber along with the smaller, lighter guns under slung beneath each of his wings. Dark, nebulous streams spreading out faster than laser cannon plasma bolts could have achieved towards the enemy ship. Passing through it he realized, joyous cry turning to a bitter howl, without a mark the pilot rotating the empty space between his craft’s small body and its panel wing. Swinging off and around the cloud of fire catapulting through the sky but not before the pilot hashed his drive engines back and forth, altering the constitution of the drive plasma to emit a highly evocative if propulsionary useless burst, sardonically in front of the nose of Addam’s fighter. The scientist’s head nearly breaking off as he spun it after the receding silver-gray image darting across his canopy, rising stellar like to meet one of the other interceptors.

Itself barely the tiniest of motes to his vision cruising far higher up, swelling in stature as its pilot dropped its prow down as if by sudden transmutation it had become sudden lead to intercept. His identify revealed, for Addam still hadn’t memorized Imperium marking iconography, as Meyer only by his hearty battle yell he screamed across the ether of radio-waves a split moment before his plane’s backside was engulfed by an incandescent plume from his twin jet engines. The engine-boost adding to the pull of gravity which slung the lithe fighter like an iron bolt for the heart of the enemy unit. Holding his fire as the kilometers shrank to nonexistence, waiting until his foe couldn’t evade or escape. Lacking such a handicap his opposite didn’t hesitate to unleash his emerald wrath, thunderous volleys of green death that soared past harmlessly as Meyer’s strikecraft pivoted onto its wing. Radiant bolts throwing their color off onto his vehicle passing by fractions of millimeters, granting the fighter a sickly but majestic glow, which continued as he set his plane into a barrel roll away from tracking salvo then looped up and over the barrage end the tirade nearly at the precise point he started save he was a few hundred meters closer to his target.

The breadth of the full maneuver taking all but quicker than could be recorded, only a latent after image imposed upon Addam’s energetic and adept mind allowing him to realize what had traversed at all. A second, maybe two, from the first shot to the last form dead on, even an expertly programmed Vulture droid would have been taxed to escape but sinew and bone? Not only the reaction-force needed but unless the enemy pilot had shunted off his targeting computer, and Addam had no reason to believe he would, or had deliberately missed the slaved laser cannons should have been sufficient compensation. While the gyroscopic mounts could move only in ranges of hundreds of microns, immobile to the naked eye, the offset and distance were most effective in “blanketing” a squared off target area. It was exceptional without doubt but, the scientist realized, it would not be enough.

“That all you got!” Meyer screamed, accent bleeding more heavily into his Basic along with the rush of excitement, hurtling like a lance at his target still refusing to open fire.

“No.” Came the enemy unit’s brief and cold reply, his craft firing its bottom mounted thrusters pushing up out of the way of the true threat.

Hect’s fighter, Addam belatedly realized, having sunk down during the air joust and snapping in a tight curve, his own engine aflame, had rocketed behind the enemy force unleashing everything he had a plane and half length behind. Such fury now spent on Meyer’s form, his struck craft’s pelted down while the Stabshauptmann pulled his nose up and zipped above right into the waiting sights of the enemy pilot. The air battle over with the flex of a finger or so it seemed.

Leveling his fighter Hect cut his boost and dialed back his engine, the twin phoenixes dwindling to a tepid vestige of their former selves, allowing the push of the protective atmosphere shrouding the planet to hurl him backwards . Straight at his opponent’s canopy, a thrusting dagger leaving the pilot with the choice of a kill or flight. Making it his vehicle weaved aside as Hect flew past, awakening his engines fully with a hellish gust and mirroring his opponent’s maneuver but not the rotation he so effortlessly did swiveling his guns to bear. Both firing in unison their rounds exchanged past each other in one glorious instant. Hect engulfed in jade light as the enemy craft descended downward, sprinting beneath the passage of the Imperium fighter and coming up behind him.

“Not bad.” James allowed as the fighter unharmed, save for its pilot’s pride, from the low energy emissions, slowed once more coming to beside the TIE fighter.” As was your wingman. Truly a credit to your service.”

“ Grace and praise fall easily when you are the victor.” Hect snorted, rough even in defeat, seeing the results of their air battle from a more ignoble prism.”As I would say if I felled you.”

“Perhaps.” James, some of his inner humanity showing, allowed as the two of them turned and regrouped with Addam and Meyer who beyond a few black marks from the blank residue was unharmed.” Your report so far “Observer”?”

Observer being what Addam was supposed to content himself with instead of attempting to help his two colleagues, the word spoken with a sugary aftertaste of sarcasm. Not that he hadn’t been paying attention, nearly breaking forth from his cockpit with ideas and suggestions.

“It was amazing seeing them attack, Hect was just like-whoosh, bang-bang-bang! And Meyer…zoom! I think these attack platforms are totally serviceable…and we can make it better!” The scientist babbled with the force of a hurricane.” Lay down a sensor net into them, giving them three-sixty field so they couldn’t be buzzed like you did, splice in a targeting computer and some slave mounts, and I already have an idea of tweaking their propulsion drives making it more efficient. Maybe peak over their engine-boost system, maybe coax a few more seconds of use from it.”

“Good. Maybe I can fly one next time around.” The cyborg sounded turning with the formation to return to the airfield.

A dozen technicians and selected brass there watching with assorted cameras and the low light based sensor system they used called RADAR watching and recording the short air battle. Hopefully suitably impressed with the abilities of the Imperial standard fighter through it paled before some of the systems the Viper crafts supposedly employed, a not so gentle reminder of the force the Imperials could wield as a mallet closed fist should they feel the need to.

“Sure! I want to try a hand at that jet bomber they had, got to be a rush sprinting around with a couple thousand kilograms of high explosive!” Addam gushed loudly, grinning from ear to ear.” And I’m going to get to fly it…then make it better! I love my job!”

New Hope, New Haven-

II.every little thing she does is magic-the Police

Cosa Deran couldn’t believe his good fortune. Where the others of the expedition sat crowded in some moldy old barracks still shaking hands with dusty old officers, or if you were the two nutjobs playing tag in the sky in a couple of old relics, he found himself under far more opulent surroundings. A mere twist of fate he knew, not deluded enough to believe otherwise, that allowed him to be sitting her in an arch flared chair of uncrinkled leather that would not have been undo to have been in the possession of some great Vizier sharing heartening ambrosia with the delectable sample of the native’s femalehood.

Far cry from what he expected straddled almost Shaak like into a transport shuttle, knowing nothing about the apparent mislaid human colony but the wild rumors which had circulated through the ship like a pathogen. He had known they were primitive, how so he was in part tasked to find out, but from some of the stories Gort or Milious told on the short voyage they were vicious. Hard nosed creatures, made that way by war against the reptilian species sharing the planet, conjuring up in Deran thoughts of Naboo and the troublesome Gungans, a race for whom the wild fire rumors surrounding had actually shielded rather then exaggerated their horrifying nature. Gort having a holopic of one of them, swiped from the Judgment’s memory bank, with a diminutive man in army uniform standing beside it giving truth to the awful scale of the creature. To stand against that Deran could only imagine the inhabitance were human in the strictest genetic sense, picturing squat brawling things with bulging muscles and thickly plated foreheads. Humanity hammer forged down to its most basic essence, waste like his knobby and thin armed self caste aside, in all its ugly glamour.

Their depravities and twisted visages growing in his mind like bitterfruit as they descended until he almost expected the opening of their shuttle door to be greeted a hulking Gamorrean and through the Captain’s eyes betrayed his lockstep to that savage alien race’s sensibilities he stood more like an Imperial recruiter for the holoreels than anything else. Uniform black with crimson trim, gold lined scarab at his side holding a ceremonial sword, he’d been the model of politeness and civilization as he welcomed the “Star-people” as he pronounced them in accented basic bidding them step down into the public square where they’d been directed to land. With fighter escort Deran later learned, through what help the prop turners who’d circled overhead could have done was an unasked question.

Waiting for them in the square had been more officers, older some scarred and lean others more soft with ill fitting uniforms, eager to shake the hands of their saviors, those of the political stripe squeezed into clearly expensive suits, a stoic faced band of adequate quality and at a safe distance held by more black suited figures clutching compact weapons stood the rabble of civilianhood. Hundreds, maybe thousands, from every strata of the city packed on the square’s edge fighting for a look of the newcomers, factory workers in dirty gray coveralls pressing forward along side women of class in elegant finery. Their agitation increasing when, after dull formalities and empty platitudes, the procession had began towards the armored vehicles bringing the “Star-People” the nearest to the crowds. Coming within a meter on one side of the gathering, people reaching out calling, shouting prayers and thanks and a thousand other things across a full spectrum of languages.

And it was there that she found him, he wouldn’t think of it any other way, a shy but vibrant thing overcoming her inhibitions pushing out past the choking throngs, fighting for her glimpse of those who had come to save her world. Eyes that shone like emeralds looking across, meeting Deran’s as he stepped past. Holding it for a breath, his head turning to keep her in place, before the butt of weapon from one of the black suited guards she was pressing past crashed against the side of her bringing her down to the grubby street. A simple act. One that was common throughout the breadth of the Empire, after all one never knew when a supposed onlooker was stretching to get the VIP in range of a thermal detonator, and once which Deran’s philosophy was “best that it be not my head” which had served him well growing up and later after he joined into the Imperial service. Under its training program forfeiting a quarter score of his productive years to the Emperor in exchange for paying for his technical schooling.

And yet in that instant, to see such majesty brutally suppressed, it had struck him a callous and cruel. A red flame overtaking his senses as, without forethought, he turned after her and knelt preventing the sharp kick that would have followed trying to spur her retreat back into the masses and helped her. Pulling her towards him which she clung like a leaf to a branch in a storm, expressing whispered gratitude before both of them, caught up in the stream of filing humanity, were swept to the transport vehicles. Even anyone else noticed the addition no one commented, lost in the euphoria which infectiously traveled from native to Imperial personnel. From there they had traveled to a secured military base where officers with even more polished brass and higher stature politicians greeted them indoctrinating them into the sordid one-upmanship and wheedling of information that was the political game. Long boring discourses against stale cigarra smoke and empty hearted promises and false solidarity poured with a disquiet champagne of unremarkable vintage. Most of the group content to it however, the stocky Gort welcoming the hero fawning they so egregiously bestowed upon him and the group lapping it up like a well trained Rancor, however Deran hadn’t been. A kinder, more inviting voice whispering into his ear against the boorish laughter at bad jokes and strained atmosphere and so it was with a little of her guidance they had stolen away.

A minor offense he doubted the local authorities would even notice, being a mere metallurgist he was hardly the most crucial or vital of the assembly. The talk of alloys, their properties and melting points only possibly interesting to Slytherina, that green eyed bedevil.

“…and has five times the strength of conventional steel when measured against a mean of kinetic force…for thermal depending on quality it can go as high as nine or…” He recited blinking, smiling as the effects of the wine hit him.” Sorry… but I must be boring you.”

“Oh please…go on.” She breathed from her chair opposite him, pale skin and scarlet lips contrasting with the shadowy glade which draped over her regal sitting form.” It is not everyday that I get hear about mysteries and wonders of an entire galaxy.”

“But only…only of the metallics they build.” Deran said continuing to smile as he took another drink from his glass.” I’m afraid I never was one for history or current events, too much trouble for both in my opinion. Just have had to keep my head down…the Emperor needs engineers and the like…just have to know your place.”

“I see.” She answered voice like warm smoke, soothing and comforting in a way as it curled over him.” This Emperor…isn’t a bad sort is he?’

“No…of course not.” Deran, abruptly aware his head had been drooping, snapped jerking into a facsimile of alertness.” It isn’t that just…Rebels…constantly attacking…have to protect from them…”

“I see, terrible sounding folks Cosa…most terrible.” He heard a voice purr as his head sank once more, rubbing clammy fingers against his sweat slick temples.” Why ever could they want to resist your Emperor?”

“Alien…alien lovers…most of them.” Deran slurred mind sinking into a thickening fog, its shaggy hide dousing the prickling warning he’d felt brimming at the back of his mind.” Don’t…understand…superiority of…”

Voice trailing down like a battered droid vocalizer he felt his hand clutching his beverage slacken, saw through his murky eyes the goblet fall from his grasp. Falling towards the ground, the dark blood like contents rushing up to spray over the edge like raging surf only for a pale white arm to reach out and snatch it without spilling a drop.

Craning his head up to Slytherina’s smiling face Deran showed momentary confusion, looking past her to the chair she had sat upon only to see it empty. The flowing shadow which had clung to it also appearing to be missing through the import of that factoid failed to resonance with the engineer’s mind. What little of it remained active enthralled to the heavenly perfume of her body as she sat his glass down onto the table before returning to his side. A delicate hand, cold to the touch, lightly dancing across the skin of his neck. He tried to say something, tried to impress her with something witty, some joke he heard Gort say but few of those could be repeated in front of a lady and his lips felt too heavy and thick to function regardless. Making only a few yipping noises which only made Slytherina laugh, such tinkling bells that was, running her hand and a finger to them silencing him.

“Hush now…hush…” She cooed leaning in kissing, trailing from there to his cheek down to his quivering throat.

Deran mulling over how lucky he was, here in the plush apartment while others sat around bored by tubby generals. At being found by her, he couldn’t think of it any other way, for her to take him. Trouble only once, as she broke away momentarily from him with a list of her head. At how her eyes seemed to turn from their jade hue to milky orbs matching the needle pointed daggers distend past her bright red lips. But then she came to him and he felt the slightest sting of her kiss and realized he had to have imagined it. The rapturous cooing of Slytherina beside him convincing him of that, he was safe with her. Safe as could be.

*

So...



Update soon?




Pleez?

Ask and you shall recieve.

That rascally droid is plotting...
Is this your version of SW's Skynet 2.0 coming up? :)

Pretty much. A bit cliched even in Star Wars but I like to keep my options open.

[sonofccn]

“…and the engorged, corpulent Martian race tremendously outlay both the benefit of breeding for an objective in their quest to improve their psionic ability and the pitfalls of allowing superior ability to lie fallow, to be besmirched and destroyed by the baser qualities of the lesser. So too goes the human races governed, when at all, by crude restraints of a free for all. A polyglot rabble allowed to intermix freely so long as they can run just a hair quicker than the rest, snatch the block of cheese without any forethought to the human condition a century or a thousand years from now. Without such purity of essence, of enlarged vision no race be they human, Martian, Venusian or Yuggothi…” Excerpt from Doctor W. Herbert essay “Driving Forces and Ultimate Principals”

New Hope, Imperator Mons-

I. O Fortuna-Gregorian

Like all driver ports on tanks made within the last ten centuries it was essentially a targeting computer, fed from sensors interspersed through a durasteel bulkhead thick enough to halt a laser cannon. It was however one of the more sophisticated driver Parvulus had been privileged too, the crystalline screen aglow with a full color rendering superimposed with graphs and data glyphs showcasing thermal energy, density, movement and other errant data. Not that it was needed nothing remotely threatening graced its surface, surviving Vipers now scattering like glownats on their approach, and the compensators needed to hold steady and turn in a timely manner the eighty ton behemoth were so intuitive with their droid level processors it nearly drove itself.

Which was not to say Parvulus slacked from his duties, the young soldier erect at his station shoulders firmly braced to accept the responsibility placed upon him eyes hunting the screen for any information to report to his commander. Hands anticipating each minute course correction the tank did to avoid damaged terrain, hole blasted landscapes, which combined with its great weight might have caused it to sink.

His body still but not the disquiet of Percious who sat like a block of iron by the gunnery controls, body rigid and unyielding as neutronium, not so much appearing even to breath. Only moving, then with a calculated but swift air, the barest amount needed to direct the heavy guns of the tank and bring precise dead upon his enemies. A certain life in the driver’s body and, as well, a sense of excited nervousness which had been burned out of the gunner long ago on distant battlefields leaving only the icy shell. Nor however did Parvulus eyes shine with the same lust as the “Mad Gorgon” still situated above competing with his voice over the din of the engines to announce the arrival of the Emperor’s Will, no urge to shout cries enticing the various gods of war which doubtlessly followed after Ghoras sating their crimson filled desires in his wake. Not even the giddy thrill which glowed in Teron’s eyes, able to eagerly twitching at some juicy prospect of battle to clinically severing one’s throat without a shake.

Nearly untouched by war’s cruel fate, through were it had dug deep, neither seeking it, forged by it or reflecting it. Merely accepting he was a part of it without unnecessary thought or recrimination. His heart singing in his breast but not from the quaking of the guns each time they fired, signaling more alien life had been annihilated in a furnace of plasma, or the hum of power of the vehicle itself as it plowed across the war torn world.

Born many years previously on the mech world Gocdlrow down on the lower levels where the ashy haze of the upper tiers transformed into a lung scorching blanket Paravulus had known nothing else at all. His first seventeen summers spent trudging through ash-fall with a grubby rebreather pinned to his face through a skeletal city of charcoal gray, first to the learning crèche then to the assembly plant where his parents had toiled before him. Attaching the connectors for a servo motor for what, he had pieced, would ultimately be assembled into the knee of a protocol droid. The sort which had worked in the higher layers where sunlight filtered through, not from cracked ultraviolet lights dangling from rotted cords, against tasks more suited to their high cost processor matrixes. A reverse of the cosmic trend that even then he’d understood, most worlds orbiting the twinkling lights shown to him on a holo display at the learning crèche had robotic servants doing the harsh, physical labor but not Gocdlrow. There for a vagary of reasons or perhaps mere fear of the hundreds of billions of people whose jobs would be replaced it had been deemed efficient to keep organic labor employed.

That was his life and never once had he looked up to the swirling nexus of dust, ash and soot that made the canvas of his sky, never truly questioned what lay beyond. Then they came, despite the distance of years the driver still remembering the howl of its engines as the cruiser came crashing down through the levels. The screams of twisting metal, hiss of material vaporized by the passing friction, soon to be replaced with living screams as the scuttling horrors emerged. Flying out like a curtain sheet, landing on people hacking them apart with horrible saws while inbuilt guns thundered slaying those around. And so had began the siege of blood, forcing the denizens down to the still deeper abandoned levels to choke on the poisonous fumes or perish trying to flee above.

Some of course had tried to fight, others opted to take their own lives, Paravulus had seen both in his mad flight. Escaping with a few others to the factory he worked, equipped as it was with thick iron doors to prevent looting and a simplistic sewage recycling system to lessen the burden of keeping the workers hydrated. Both serving well for the crawling days of furor and noise, din of explosions ringing constantly shaking dust from the rafters and shaking one’s teeth until he thought they’d rattle out. Two more taking their lives before the driver, with a piece of broken glass and a sliver of metal scraped to a point respectively, and another lost to the maddening fury and had to be put down by the rest. Paravulus remembering distinctly what it had felt like, sensing the body grow still as he struggled to hold it down, and like the rest of that period felt revulsion rise in his throat.

Those days spent with him huddled abject wondering, when the time came, which option he’d follow. To turn the knife against himself or, laughing, attack his fellows but thankfully before fate would have decided. The great noise first subsiding then vanishing, words of basic shouting through the iron door to them from grim covered squad of soldiers in the remnants of the colors of the Empire.

Men from South Thejas, Naboo, Coruscant, and half a dozen other worlds separated by stars and the lull of the void but united by purpose. Even bedraggled as they were Paravulus could see it, etched into every line of their faces, as his party was escorted through the ghostly ruins that which were once his home to a makeshift camp. Where due to the Emperor’s benevolence or the descending troop barges ferrying more to the brutal grinder the mottled scab of cloud cover had broken on Gocdlrow in a spot allowing a shower of golden light to reach down to the camp’s banner fluttering in the ash-winds. And then and there he knew for what his life was destined for, enlisting into the Sector Academy soon after. And whatever part of the galaxy they now were in, against whatever foe he would continue to fight to bring the light of the Empire to bear, to ensure the order and tranquility of the New Order.

“Approaching destination.” The driver noted crisply, coaxing the battle tank to a stop.

His scopes revealing the unchanging field of charred scrubland, twisted wreckage and shell blast marks extending in all directions for kilometers, no thermals indicating life forms within that range either. His maps, of separate resolutions, displayed on screens in his chair showing their approximate position along one of the furthest tendrils of Donner’s forces. Through the haphazard method the Assault Commander waged war ensured the icons on the map were only the most basic guesses, guesses now cold and dead according to sensors.

From above the howling died away, heavy boots slamming into the bars of ladder as Ghoras scrambled down taking the last few with a jump. His beard billowing like smoke belched from cannon fire, the sword on his side clattering as it hit the edge of the ladder on his way down, feet already in motion when they slammed down with a hammer fall.

“Teron, where the vermin at?” He fumed, smile never vanishing from behind his wild mane through.” I thought Donner promised us a real bout.”

“I don’t understand, he promised us six of their tanks plus missile support.” He answered slyly to the animal-man looming over his station, leathery palm built like durasteel leaning past him to the bulkhead wall supporting the Colonel as he leaned in over his subordinate.” I suppose they left.”

“Then I suppose you are going to find them.” The Gorgon said drumming his fingers against the metal wall, like the patter of slugthrowers.” Not going to have a scrape just get away from us like that.”

Teron nodded, slow with a cool indifference like a snake, turning in his seat back to his electronic systems to patch back to Donner’s command only to have it lit up with an inbound transmission with the Assault Commander’s ID code. Reaching his hand to the control the communication officer filled the tank’s interior with the voice of he who had ordered them out there, none missing the gloating insolence now dripping from the Commander’s tongue.

“Gentlemen…” It hissed with a crackle of static, voice modulation program shutting down.”…may your spirits lay scattered and fallow for eternity. May Saargoth’s strength guide our aim!”

Its threat finished the operator on the other end cut the communication line creating silence which was destroyed by Percious’s controlled voice.

“Target.” He announced hand already dancing over the buttons of his controls.

“How far!?” An eager Ghoras demanded spinning away from Teron’s station, entire body bristling at the anticipation of battle once more.” Parvulus link navi-com to the gunnery systems and-“

“From above. Descending fast. Impact…” Percious reported calmly, not even attempting to go after the sleek missile, as a thunderclap exploded above their heads setting off alarm bells the length of the tank.”…now. Additional inbound.”

“Evasion. Our devil strikes!” The Gorgon crowed, himself already in motion towards the ladder and the hatch beyond.” Now where is he? Does he have the mettle to show himself?”

Outside missile compartments popped open, warheads emerged on violent curtains of flame following the guidance programmed in by Percious. Some shooting high into the atmosphere becoming twinkling lights other curving low following after the huge tank as it rumbled forward. Each in turn detonated on a preset millisecond casting molten fragments and fiery cores out like photonic flower blossoms intersecting the high velocity rockets which plunged down after their hulking prey. Melting through casings, obliterating microchips and prematurely setting off payloads which blazed above shaking each member in the tank to their very core. Yet for each claimed another slipped through unmolested, undeterred by its running prey pivoting away from the rushing ground which would have slain it and skimming across it.

“I’m losing rear deflectors…those warheads are of high yield.” Teron said with a fascinated quiet looking at the readouts like it was a new form of insect.” Armor will provide only transitory protection.”

“By devil can you feel it!?” The Mad Gorgon screamed, protruding out the hatch of the tank, as another vomited its deadly cargo against the back screens which flickered and collapsed.

Crimson and orange streams of incendiary matter washing over the polished hide of the Emperor’s will but failed to touch the Colonel as if he was Darf’rey champion and weaponsmith of the Frost Giants said to great fallen warriors. Only he able to brave the heat of his forge, the molten heart whose radiance seared and boiled, pounding his great war hammer against the incandescent ore working it into the swords and axes his people warred with. The greatest and most powerful of the Giants, save Hruk the Elder Father, and who only descended to the mortal plain to reap a particularly worthy warrior challenging them to duel. And it was for that glorious moment that Ghoras had Soul-Slayer forged, the sword singing as he drew it from its sheath and raised it high catching the dancing light of the flame.

“Hruk, Darf’rey, Adosia! Watch us!” He thundered to the screaming heavens.” Watch men live truly! By devil truly!”

Above he caught flicker of more missiles raining down, far greater number rushing up past in feeble hope of stopping them. Beneath the tank rolled on, shifting and rolling trying to bedevil the sensing nodes on the enemy rockets. All was alive, the feel of the knife edge against their throat awakening their beings.

“Percious! I need the cannons! Where I point!” He bellowed awakening the turret.

Its great mass lumbering into motion, twin muzzles lifting up to greet the sky and the harbingers of death. Racing against them…

End Part I

[Praeothmin]

So, you brought Vampires... Iiiiinnnnn Spaaaaaaacccceeeeee!!! :)

Nice Mythbuster plane sequence, and very cool tank rumblings...

[Admiral Breetai]

Holy..god

holy god

what the hell have I missed? My god Sonfo I can just retire right now and you could carry this god damn section! I love the updates that metallica song really did fit Tyler..good lord

[sonofccn]

Small update. Finished up Ghoras's arc such as it is, and we get to check in on Deran. Also Tyler acts like Tyler.

“…and so did courtesans, nobles and lords of the court of King Dreznik, the defiant, give to the thrall upon the ground like beasts possessed. Taking of the mortal flesh, drawing in ruby ink the sacred signs of she who lives beyond the veil, reciting all the verses to be found bound between the pages of the book of Regnar. And lo their flesh did swell, engorged upon by the spirit of she who lives beyond the veil, their hands curved into blood drenched claws. Leaving King Dreznik, frozen chilled white upon his ivory throne, lord over only flies and charnel.” Translated excerpt from the Chronicles of Living Flame.

Judgment, Bridge-

I.Legions of Darkness-Nox Arcana

There was no more talking as he circled the bridge, the hushed and insidious whispers which had circulated in the Commodore’s presence replaced with the heavy silence of a sepulcher. Solemn muteness and the clicking of terminal keys which accelerated on Tyler’s approach, his stern form overlooking into the crew pit as he made his traverse. That was his purpose, his gift. To provide the dark mate to the swelling adoration they felt for the Commodore, that vitalizing energy they felt, holding them to purpose with fear like graven lead ballasts. The Commander was the glittering bauble those below would strive to follow and Tyler was onyx shadow which held them too.

Behind him keeping a respective and yes cringing distance was Krebe, the lessening of communications from the surface freeing him such duties, ready to catch any pronouncement by the Subcommander. Not needing to be telepathic to know that underneath his brow beaten expression and down turned face there harbored murderous thoughts on the Judgment’s second in command, thoughts he’d never dare execute chained as he was by his fear. Few bonds stronger, a truth Tyler had learned slowly over his many years. Seeing firsthand the way the wriggling maggots of fear burrowed into the liver of the even the most calloused of criminals and thugs bursting open with hungry larva, how it trapped them in manacles of their own devising.

No, craven Krebe would remain loyal. The Subcommander even enjoying walking with his back to the man, only his listening to the noise of the other on the deck plate giving him warning should he be proven wrong, offering him the best opportunity he’d ever have.

“Status?” He breathed, barely a whisper, smiling as he heard his assistant’s pace quicken through not nearly enough if he planned on driving a dagger into his back, the young man coming to his side raising a datapad to his face read off of.

“Currently no change sir. That I am aware of.” He said in a rush of exhale, slightest shrill cry rising up from the bloody pit where his tooth had been broken still awaiting to be treated.

And it would, the assistant to the Subcommander should have some standards, but after Krevin had resumed his rightful place upon the bridge and Tyler retired to his quarters. Where he could began to delve into the data his agent had collected for him, his mind alight at the trillions upon trillions of bytes on the aliens they waged war on and more importantly the galaxy they now found themselves in. Its pitfalls and glories, wonders and horrors all for his taking unabridged and undiluted as might their allied client state be presupposed to do. The thoughts of the secrets he’d be first privy too, before it was disseminated to select and trusted parties, almost as intoxicating as the power he’d cull from the knowledge itself. Wielding this feeling of exuberant discovery last when he pried the thick leathery bound volume of Scrying Arts from the calcified hand of a Sith Wizard born eighteen millennia back. Then it had been a dead end, the dark arts too unpredictable to be of use, btu not this time he foresaw.

“Well then, let us check.” Tyler answered his aid slyly leading the way around the crew pit, relishing how in turn each technician hunched lower over their terminal, to the communication board.

The officer stationed there sitting straighter at his post, the color draining from his pallor, as he clippedly began assuaging the Subcommander’s “fears” that no sudden changes of the situation had unraveled and which he then failed to inform the acting commander of the Judgment. No doubt envision his ghoulish fate if such a thing would come to pass as he did so, and equally as likely failing to come close. A frequent fault of the Academy, so few passed through its walls with their imagination intact. A tool whose value Tyler’s early had had instilled itself upon him countless times.

“No sir…Assault Commander Donner has secured his forward HQ…still pacifying the alien command bunker but he should have all floors taken within the hour…” The man recited eyes hungrily darting to the datapad laying on his station whenever his mind failed upon some minutia of knowledge.”…fronts are stabilized…pockets of resistance are shrinking…there is some com-link interference but…its sporadic and intermittent. Likely just the bleed off from the planet’s magnetic sphere. Minor…”

“Indeed.” Tyler replied soothingly causing the operator to smile which in turn sank as the officer leaned in close with that predatory smile of his.”Punch of units afflicted and their area if you’d please.”

“Yes…yes sir.” The technician answered turning his seat, fingers dancing across the keys to his terminal.

The computer whining, the noise rising in pitch, as he collected the divergent data encoded through its banks and directed them to the holographic emitter where they colluded into an aesthetically pleasing vista. A shimmering blue plateau showing the ground they orbited above marked with red blinking icons representing where a unit had either lost communication or last reported position when they failed to respond. Finishing his work the operator raised his hands away overtly conscious of the Subcommander perched beside his shoulder studying the flickering projection, extending his hand out to the simulacrum and running it through over the highest concentration of red.

“ Krebe, what do you make of this?” Tyler asked cocking his head to glance at his aid with a cold grin.” What do you see.”

His assistant, over the ripple of tension which always went through his body when his master spoke, stepping forward with speed hastened by fear and vigorously scanned over the area indicated. The muscles in his head working furiously as he worked out some meaning, some grander scheme in the chaotic info-dump. The color in his face brightening as he realized what it was, almost a hint of satisfaction on his face when he answered.

“ All units were on the peripheral of the front’s border, isolated and heavy hitters. An Air mobile artillery segment, an armored battalion, even the Emperor’s Will.” Krebe answered cautiously at first but with increasingly strident confidence when he wasn’t challenged or rebuked by the Subcommander.” In effect selectively pruning the fighting force of those with the most disproportionate amount of firepower.

“The front stretches hundreds of kilometers, it’s likely their axillaries simply can’t slice it sir. The logs support me, two-thirds of those which have suffered communication problems have returned with incident beyond garbled or misread orders. We-“ The communication technician said covering for himself, ceasing midway through.

His words melting into the hiss of flesh broiled by plasma, air taking on a crimson sheen from the atomized fragments of molecules and flecks of his face and skull, his body falling backwards from his seat as Tyler clipped his blaster back into its sheath. Rising up from the station and gesturing for Krebe to take the dead man’s place, two stormtroopers already moving in to drag his body away for disposal.

“I trust you have familiarized yourself with the systems enough to operate in the absence. Inform the next on the roster to report to the com station then contact Donner directly and inform him to reign a tighter leash on his forces. Priority one, and if he can’t I will have someone in charge that can.”

Knowing, as he gave the order, that Donner would have to pull units from securing the alien bunker, Tyler most defiantly not sending further resources to be fretted away by that man, in order to fulfill the command. Prolonging the capture of the alien database directly, assuming it hadn’t already been destroyed by the defenders, which in due time would have been most useful as a comparison to the data his agent had extracted. Knowing better than most never to trust one who lived in the shadows, far better to twist a saint to your bidding, but in the end it was a trivial matter. Preventing the loss of resources he couldn’t replace settled higher on the priorities, the New Empire, the new Confederacy of Man he and Krevin were forging with the natives down below would need blood and iron in ravenous amounts if it was to be born.

New Hope, New Haven

II.Ave Satani-Gregorian

Webs of scarlet, the horizon cracked open by ivory flashes of lightening and the long, mournful baying of some wild beast greeted Cosa Deran upon his flight from nothing to existence. Awaken drenched in sweat leaping from the bed he lay the sheets scented with enchanting incense flung flittering through the air, awkward memories or nightmares he knew not which robbing him for the moment of all sense but flight. Realizing the metal stand only after he landed bare feet first onto the wooden floor with a sharp crack, head snapping to the pole as it fell shattering the glass canister perched on it. A puddle of ruby spilled out from it between the shattered shards of glass, same which leaked around his arm where the connecting tube and needle had been pulled out of it. Touching it tentatively still unsure what had been fevered dream and what had been memory, raising a smudge film of red up to his face inhaling its coppery aroma. That heavy metallic musk filling his senses and before he realized he felt his mouth slide open, his tongue dart out over the heavenly ambrosia but no sooner had he tasted it than gagged. Doubling over feeling pressure build his jaw, feeling his incisors lurch forward even as he reached his palm of to them. Feeling them slide forth, straining open his mouth to fit them as they curved into a pair of gleaming scythes.

“So you’re awake.” Came the silky voice of Slytherina emerging from the shadows strewn across the room’s only doorway.

Her wholesome girl attire shed both in stance as well as attire, no longer shy but posed with vibrant confidence with her sensible clothing replaced with a green weave cloak Cosa couldn’t help but notice in the room’s lighting to just barely be woven with enough density to prevent transparency. Despite his predicament, despite striving unsuccessfully to shove his fangs back into himself he still found part of himself to gaze appreciatively to her. Even more than before she seemed possessed of some beautiful radiance attracting him like metal to a magnet, some deep part of his mind favorably comparing the movements of her walk towards him to the most skillful of the Twi’lek dancers he’d seen. With a shake of his head however he dispelled those notion, holding up a hand to ward her off.

“What…what have you done…”He grimaced backing into the bed and feeling a tingle go up his spine as it, with a protesting shudder, screeched across the floor.

“Made you better.” She cooed raising one her hands, so cold, to his.

Their fingers intertwining, with it she slowly lowered his arm as she stepped nearly atop of him. Pressing into him, running fingers up his chest towards his neck to the nearly healed wound she left there, noticing the flicker that paned across his face at the remembrance of that union with a small laugh. A sound like the tinkling of bells, not at all unpleasant. It was so nice, all he wanted to do was listen to it but remembering the alien sensations that had sprouted from his jaws he broke his hand from her grasp and with both pushed her back. Reaching his own to rub the wound, phantasmal memories of a silver eyed harpy competing against the vision of beauty that stood before him.

“You…bite me.” Deran said the speaking of the words helping to cement them in his mind, make them real.” You fething bite me.”

“Yes I did.” She purred slinking away from him to where the stand had fallen, kneeling over the blood stained canister fragments.” I tasted of you…your very essence…your soul…”

Picking up a piece from the mess she held it up for Deran to see, wafting beneath her delicate nose which crinkled just ever so and then the tip of her tongue extended out wiping first one side of the glass clean and then the other. Cosa’s eyes focused like a heat-ray on it the entire time, muscles in his jaw and body tense.

“It was necessary.” She whispered tossing the piece away and taking another to her lips.” To bring you into our club so to speak. To your benefit as well I must add, our gift is truly that.”

Deran’s mind reeled, forcing himself to look away from the nigh goddess her lovely image tarnished by the superimposing of that silver eyed lich his mind had captured in its final moments in twilight. That which had chased him through the black ribbon of night and which he recoiled from as he would a hot blade and yet…no sooner had looked away then his chorded muscles forced him to turn back. Gaze at her and the crimson slate her tongue brushed against.

“What are you!?” He choked out already a more gruesome questioning festering inside of him, fetid breath from deep within him giving it life as well.” What am I?!”

“Oh you know, no secrets between you and I now.” She said with a wicked smile standing up with a blood covered chip still in her hand and walking towards.” Search your mind you know…we are the wind’s howl. The glade of the ivory moon. The whisper of the night’s music. We are an eternal truth, a progenitor memory.”

Knowing he already knew the answer to his question but wanting him to answer it for himself, to accept it which his mind rebuked from most violently. Screeching patronizingly at him that such things were the talk of children, fodder for cheaply made horror-holos not the rational mind of a man applied to science principals. Yet what other answer sufficed?

“No…no…not a Haunter…Haunter of the dark?” He choked voice leaving him, mind flooded with lurid images of bloated corpse-feeders said to crawl up from the pits of tombs.

“One way to describe us…only one way…” She answered wrapping one arm around his neck and shoulder, pulling them together as she tempted him with the shard of blood smeared glass.” Limited as all the others to describe what we truly are. The power we posses.”

“Power?” Deran mewled giving in, lapping the crimson stain away.

“Oh yes…can’t you already feel it? New strength and vitality filling every cell of your being? Your very whole swelling far beyond the mortal stock from whence you came.” She asked pulling the fragment away from his hungry lips to stroke a finger across his arm which true to her word felt like they were caste from solid durasteel now.” And your still weak from the transition…you need to feed.”

“Feed…” He mimicked in rapture before something tickled its way through the thickening clouds.” Feed? On what?”

“On the chattel that lay beneath us of course. Beneath the only kin where our loyalties lie, those of the blood.” She said with another tinkling laugh tossing the piece of glass to the floor.” Come…that which is frozen and distilled is unfit for our pallets. To fill it bursting from a vein…that is ecstasy.”

New Hope, Imperator Mons-

III.The Dragon lies Bleeding-Hammerfall

“Right tread cease, left double time it!” The Mad Gorgon thundered into his communicator which translated it into an electronic hiss into the driver’s ear.” Turret rotation one hundred and eighty degrees!”

The mighty Emperor’s Will shaking, the very earth cracking, as it carried out the Colonel’s request. Himself laughing the entire time as both the turret and the tank’s body swung independent of each other, the guns belching deliberately loosely bottled capsules of plasma which violently ruptured as skybursts above incinerating the missiles that rained down upon them. Those cooking off in midair providing glittering illumination for those which swept past unhindered, sleek things which came up sharply at the ground and flew like arrows. High sensitive sensory nodes locking onto the thermal, vibrational and metallic signature of the huge tank arming their contact fuses as they rocketed towards their destiny. Three distinct gouts of flame and heat erupting against the swinging side and front of the ungainly tank linking together across the defiant blue deflector screen which absorbed them.

Hot glowing embers and fragments scrapes of metal slinging off of its shielded hide as it crawled to a stop with all the nimbleness of slamming into a ferrocrete wall and both treads fired to life again dragging the eighty ton behemoth backwards across the desolate land. Scrapes of other destroyed war machines and the charred remains of their luckless crew transformed into billowing clumps of dust beneath the heavy tracks, thick sheets which clung to the sides of the Emperor’s Will or mingled in a hazy distortion where the protective ward still projected.

“Forward screens just surged.” Teron reported, Ghoras thinking it wasn’t just his imagination that he heard excitement in his voice, dutifully.” They won’t hold against a repeat of that assault.”

“Then we have to bring the battle to our Devil!” The Gorgon crooned thrusting Soul-Slayer towards the brooding and turbulent heavens, itself a surreal mural of bursting lights and trailing streamers.” Percious, where is it? Where does our enemy hide itself?”

His query no sooner voiced than his gunner replied not the least troubled by the weakened forward shields or how the exposed armor of the rear would fare. Meticulously checking his scopes even as he spoke to deliver the most accurate information he could to the Colonel, his voice like a broken tank’s tread grinding into itself.

“Passed above. Clip of three thousand kilometers per hour. Appears to be banking for second run.” He answered over the roar of the Gorgon and the turret motors swiveling it after the quarry.” Altitude of ten thousand meters above us.”

“Then let us greet its glorious return to us!” The Colonel declared swinging his sword ahead of the turning gun assembly as if he hoped to lop the enemy craft apart.” Bracketing fire!”

Percious reply came as the guns’ throaty roar, from the heavier main cannons as well as the smaller anti-infantry lasers, lobbing explosive balls of plasma up into the heavens. A hundred separate novas which erupted with twinkling light along side hunting missiles launched along side the energized packets, their simplistic sensors guiding them into the yawning oblivion of heat and searing plasma as much as it directed them against the diving warcraft. Its black hull treated to absorb emissions, to improperly reflect those it didn’t, channeling as much heat from its engines as it could dumping it out behind it.

Depleted of its missiles rotary cannons distended from its “chin” mounts erupting in blazing fire as it swooped past the enemy tank at twice the speed a TIE fighter could accomplish in the dense atmosphere. Already a shrinking speck when the turret revolved around after it, the barest of motes struggling to curve back when a passing plasma-shell seeped through its fading containment. The matter of stars licking at its underbelly burning through setting off warning chimes through the Adjunct, the glowing metal parting allowing the lines that ferried the rich feed to the perpetually thirsty drive system to be engulfed. Automated suppression systems and shunt off valves inadequate for the flash vaporizing temperature, to stop the ignited stream backfeeding to the main reservoir where the pressure cracked it open allowing the jet fuel to mingle with the oxygen rich atmosphere.

The plane less than a dot in the distance when it went up, a red smudge which blazed viciously for a drawn out second before winking out. The debris after the explosion of the main tank, after the even more potent rocket mixture, far too minute to be spotted by anything other than sensors. The cold Percious alone watching them drift groundward, concerning himself only with something roughly two meters in length composed of softer medium than the alloys raining down. He found nothing of the kind, likely burned away with the first burst of ignited fuel beneath it.

Above Ghoras lowered Soul-Slayer, curling one hand into a tight knit fist and slammed it down with a joyous cry to the still warm crater punched into the copula’s armor plate. Roughly a hand in width and about half as deep such scoring mark the cosmetic damage the passing plane had wrought, passing to either side of the Colonel but never touching him. As he knew it would the moment he saw the plane dive for them for he knew his gods held far greater things for him than to perish against some cowardly fighter plane.

[Praeothmin]

Vampires in space... Very nice...

And the Emperor's Will shall continue delivering word of the Order of the Empire... :)

And I would never serve under Tyler...

[Admiral Breetai]

this has been nice..vampire chick is scary

sound track fit every chapter

Vampires in space... Very nice...

And the Emperor's Will shall continue delivering word of the Order of the Empire... :)

And I would never serve under Tyler...

first space zombies and cosmic Evas now this

[sonofccn]

Another short update and its just filler. Don't know, couldn't really think of anything to write so I just had Jackson punch things.

“No. I want you to send a message to Her.” Agent Smith, before shooting, to the “Arch-Cardinal” of the Flesh-Devourers of Calcutta in response to question if he thought he could break the “Arch-Cardinal’s will or devotion to his chosen deity.

Judgment, Bridge-

I.Bad to the bone

“…and we’ve realized down here what’s going on and are taking steps to prevent it in the future however, with respect Subcommander, I think you fail to appreciate my predicament. I have two fronts stretched out in opposite directions and covering thousands of kilometers of layered fighting. The old Separatists tactical droids couldn’t ride herd like you want.” Assault Commander Donner smarted.

His voice emanating from the six inch high simulacrum which flickered and wavered from the communication board but it might as well have been six foot, its presence and focus nothing less than if the warrior had stridden upon the bridge. Tyler, drawn to his full height with his arms folded behind his back, the muscle in his jaw working standing before the holo listening to the subtle sounds of the bridge slow. Feeling the eyes of the bridge crew sneak upon him, drawn to the hot skillet of frustration and rage the Assault Commander had plunged into the cocoon of fear which clung to the bridge like the musty air of a long forgotten mausoleum.

The spirited troop commander upset, through the verbose and energetic manner in which he threw himself into tasks making the word an inadequate and partial description, at the chastising he’d received for his sloppy marshaling of war resources as well as the Emperor heavy admonishment on the arrival of word on the Emperor’s Will’s attack. The clear risks and ease of the ambush outweighing the merely cosmetic damage it had received in the actual assault, the Subcommander furious as the crown jewel of his armed forces being so carelessly deployed.

“The Empire will not afford mistakes Assault Commander nor will I. Be it a lowly army private or an AT-AT we can ill support its loss. Even in victorious exchange.” Tyler intoned eyeing the shimmering blue figure sharply.” Preventable loss, units destroyed because of the fogs of war you allow to seep across your disjointed battlefield, is criminal negligence on par with treason. Treason against the Empire and our beloved Emperor which as an officer of his Imperial Majesty I am charged with eliminating such behavior in whatever means I deem warranted.”

“Yes you do…Subcommander.” Donner said thickly, his glowing avatar moving appearing to bend over a planning table with its own holographic images.” By an arm’s length of regulations I might add but you won’t invoke it. Who’d replace me? Throw a Traditionalist down here and he’d need five to ten million more men and half a year to see this too completion.”

Through outwardly he didn’t change expression in his heart Tyler felt a seethe of anger flash up inside of him, an unabated urge swelling to call the hard headed commander out on his bluff. Viper air defense was crumbling away, the Emperor’s Will crushing any pocket of resistance. All that remained was to keep a steady hand on the tiller to see the campaign to the completion something Donner himself would never fully embrace. But as a tool the arrogant soldier still had his uses, the Admiral teaching Tyler never to dispose of a tool that could still be used.

“Perhaps.” Tyler allowed taking a step towards the holo emitter, causing Krebe manning the station to slink away, leaning towards the flickering blue avatar.” But you wouldn’t be there to enjoy my folly if that is what it becomes.”

The small figure laughed at that, rising back up from the hologram display where his overstretched forces puttered about, turning back to face the holo recorders and raising a balled fist to strike at the side of his helmet.

“How do you think I got this?” He asked indicating the web of fractures and seams spread over the composite plate of his helm.” Megarachnid on a forsaken world the Commodore bid me to. Sweltering ash filled rains through what had been a village, just popped up removing the head of the stormtrooper ahead of me, wounding another with weapon’s fire as I advanced upon it. Hit it five times square and it still lived long enough to lurch forward and drive those spike like mandibles into my head. And that was only the first; the 88th encountered hundreds of separate incidents over the course of the clean up. Death and I…we know each other. Almost like old friends.”

“Obviously less acquainted than those who serve under you, your losses are almost up with a Colonial unit’s.” Tyler said with a cold smile.” And I wonder how you would feel if your “friend” met another of your acquaintances…say a certain medical officer?”

Donner didn’t laugh this time, lowering his hand to his side still tightly curled into a fist. The speakers for the hologram catching the creaking of the plastiod gauntlet as it continued to tighten as well as the quiver in his voice when at last he did speak.

“No more than you would Subcommander…of that I assure you.” He said slowly fighting the treble threatening to spill forth from him with each word.” Do we understand each other?”

“Yes…yes I think we do.” Tyler said flauntingly not retreating but not pressing the proverbial dagger deeper either.” I believe you were about to work on tightening the leash by which you hold your men to which I see no reason to further divert you. The Empire’s resources are precious.”

“Less so than those who serve it.” Donner answered with a click of his tongue, a furrow starting to form across the back of his hand’s armor plate.” I will see to…improving unit to command communication. Donner out!”

The last command more of a bark to the 88th communication officer, the blue figure winking out from existence but not before turning back to the holo display with a roar slamming both fists onto it. Only furthering the smile the Subcommander wore, more intrigued than alarmed by the outburst.

“Somewhere deep in his ancestry that man has a South Colonial.” He said with a laugh turning an eye towards his assistant.” Keep the station manned until the replacement arrives, report any deviation or development however trivial.”

“Yes sir.” Krebe hastened quickly, nearly leaping out of his seat in his rush to do it, then bending over his controls setting to work grateful at Tyler stepping away to prowl the bridge once more.

With him rolled a dark “shadow”, one which could stretch out and stifle a commander on the planet below or make harden stormtroopers recoil ever so slightly in their armor as the man passed. A cold cloud of fear or something equally intangible yet present none the less which was marked with the pounding of his heels onto the deck plate and sent icy rivers running down Krebe’s spine. Made all the more ominous and visible by the contrast with the great leader whom the Subcommander was ruling in the stead of, the assistant smiling remembering the look of pangs and appall Krevin had shown at Tyler’s actions.

Through obviously friendship blinded him from the full import the heroic Commodore clearly understood his subordinates were more than clones to be fed to the grinder. Would anyone harbor even for a moment the Subcommander would risk his life dragging an injured stormtrooper to safety or rush headlong into a docking bay to avenge the death of a fully armed squad? No not even for they understood when the mettle of men had been poured who had received the greater portion, who would give his life for his crew and who in Krebe reminded him more of why he enlisted into the navy than all the whips and lashes Tyler ever could manage.

Wraith, Bridge-

II.King of Kings-Manowar

The attack came from behind, the squeak of a shoe’s sole on the deck plating alerting Jackson whose turn of the head brought the glint of the silver blade into view. Carried without elegance his attacker meant to catch it into the meat where the neck and shoulder fused ripping it all open into one bleeding mess. A crude, simplistic assault but so was the commander’s, hand of his turning body clasping his opponent’s forearm locking it in place while leaning into the man’s face with his elbow. Jackson’s other calloused hand, completing the revolution going to the blade itself, prying it free from his foe’s fingers, and taking it for himself as the man was knocked back to the floor. Flipping it around in his palm, getting a feel for the weapon’s weight, while he reversed his motion and spun back to greet the accomplice the bludgeoned fool had hoped to buy time for.

The cry of victory dieing on the man’s lips as his blade bite down into the commander’s stolen dagger, sparks shooting off as the two scraped deadlocked Jackson’s on top of the other holding it down and away from him gut and chest. Again no finesse, no art to either’s actions , but raw savagery as the latest attacker, muscles straining, strove to break free from the commander’s impasse or at least hold him there. Watching his struck ally already rising from behind and sensing to his side a third flanking the ship’s captain.

Intent on increasing the applied pressure he took a half step forward throwing more of his weight behind the thrust that would see the commander split open like a roasting-fodder only to have the heel of Jackson’s boot catch his shin knocking out from under him. Causing a stumble which freed the commander, stepping out of the way of the dagger tip, to finish what he started with a leathery fist against the side of his foe’s face. Toe of his boot going down again pinning the man’s knife wielding wrist as he stooped over, smashing the side of his arm into his face while he did so, and liberated his weapon from him as well. Rising with it not to ward of the attack of his first and nearest opponent, whom he turned his back to, but the third and untested adversary.

His twin daggers catching the man knife as it slashed towards him and twisting it from his grasp even as Jackson felt the durasteel like tang of the first bite him in the back of the knee. Felt himself wobble at it loosing the initiative from the opponent he faced who withdrew from reach, the sensation growing worse at the bark of pain with crossed the back of his skull. Flashes of red crisscrossing his vision at the hit, likely cupped hands slung like a mace judging from the pain, skewing his sense of perception and leaving him only senses of touch and sound when the Thirdman, emboldened, snaked back into reach grabbing at one of the commander’s hands and twisting it at the wrist to compel him to drop the weapon.

“Give up.” Hissed an exuberant voice in his ear, the Firstman, as he dropped his full weight upon the captain’s already shaky back locking an arm around his throat.

At his side the Secondman made a reappearance grappling to take back his own weapon and through his breathing was hard there was the same excited and energetic undercurrent. That thrill of tantalizing victory which was sweeter than any ambrosia, Jackson had heard it countless times in his own timber. And he wasn’t going to be denied it now.

“I ain’t.” He choked, legs stiffening, drawing the arm the unbloodied Thirdman clasped towards him.

White stars replacing the dark crimson tides staining his eyelids he catapulted himself up, despite the weight of the other two anchoring him, at the man sailing past the puny knife they both laid claim too and using a more a far more basic and intrinsic weapon. The South Colonial’s head making the sound of a gong as it collided with his opponent’s, scarlet fields replacing for the moment the darkening corners which had started creeping in and fueling the commander as he wrestled his hand free.

“Look out! He’s loose!” The Secondman cried furthering his twist to break Jackson’s grip on his blade’s handle.

Which the commander rolled his arm with, shoulder creaking loudly in his ears from its rotation, until he heard the snap of ligaments and his foes own gasp of pain from his wrenching arm. His grip slackening allowing the captain to pull his fist free and, tossing his knife into the air and catching it blade first, drove it into the man’s stomach. The soft tissue puckering around the handle in sync with his victim’s pain cry turning into a raspy exhale of breath forcing the hacking Secondman to stagger away, only the most hazy ruby streaked sight of his retreat seen as Firstman’s fist connected against the side of Jackson’s jaw. Keeping his lock over the commander’s airways he continued with blow after blow on the rising and straightening Jackson.

Each delivering a blossoming nodule of pain which burned through the captain’s flesh and bone as he slipped his knifes beneath his belt loop, one hand snatching Firstman’s fist out of the air like a viper-fish snagging a passing avian with the pressing weight of granite while the other he rammed palm first where he felt hot sticky breath billowing over his neck. Feeling something hard splat against the rough hide of his hand, felt the weight on top of him shift which he magnified leaning forward again while tugging on the clasped fist flinging the smaller man to the ground with a thunderclap. Then stretching his arm out, turning it until he heard it pop again, he walked over the collapsed heap of Firstman kicked the leg out of shakily standing Thirdman and headed towards the dropped and final knife.

“Now then, we’all are going to finish this like gentlemen.” Jackson intoned to his three opponents, adding the third blade to his collection, who warily rose to their feet once more.” No little old tools, no tricks. Just brawn and good ‘ol valor.”

Raising his hands up he cupped one over the other breaking the stiffness of the joints with a sound of a dozen turbolasers, repeated shifting his hands, and stepped towards the trio who each at the nod of Secondman unfurled from each other. Dividing to different sides of the commander like before, stance wide but coiled ready to strike, but the glint in their eyes lacked the luster of before. Bloodied, wary now, they began to circle around Jackson keeping a set distance from him and each other, striving to time their attack with furtive glances and subtle nods. Each no longer imagined singular glory, not with the aching slings weighing them to the ground, such fancies dispelled.

Together through, by weight of numbers if none else, they would be victorious or so they perceived. Secondman signaling the onslaught as he bolted towards Jackson’s side bending beneath the warding side of the man’s arm encircling one hand out to hold the commander in place for the other to pulverize his flesh. Across Thirdman, face streaked with crimson from his shattered nose, jinxed sharply behind the larger man’s craggy shoulder going for the ripe of his back and to their side taking the most direct the headstrong Firstman rushed at Jackson’s face. They collided in the same instant serenaded in the harsh sounds of hewn fists connecting with dense bodies, catching belatedly through the fog of digging elbows and driving knees that Jackson had stepped out between the walls of the collapsing crucible. Rising up behind their tangled mess of arms and legs to grab one with an unyielding grip of iron and yank Secondman out from the group suppressing and quieting his shouts with his other curled hand into his gut and then flinging him back into his still untangling comrades toppling all of them.

Each no sooner hitting the deck plate then the commander launching himself after them, one hand finding Firstman’s shoulder pinning it to the plate while a knee drove like a dropped anvil into his midsection and the captain hovered above raining his other fist like a Victory destroyer bombarding a planet. No tricks in his attack just raw savage brawn, the same on displayed by him when he catapulted off of the motionless form into Thirdman. His iron hard shoulder gouging into the man’s chest like a spear while he grabbed and tugged a leg from under foot sending his foe once more down with a horrendous clash, reverberated when the first of Jackson’s clenched blows was warded off by Thirdman. Still fighting he drove his knee up into his attacker and with the tangs of the blocked blow still ringing in his ears swung his stinging arm against the commander’s head which rolled with the blow.

“Not bad son but it’ll take a mite more than that.” Lifting his head up out of reach of the Thirdman and wedging an arm over his throat which he used in conjuction with pressing his forearm against the deck plate to push up and drive the bottom of both his boots into Secondman.

The foe cursing a particularly venomous oath as his legs turned to pudding, sinking to his knees clutching at his tenderized flesh as Jackson swung off and around Thirdman without ever breaking his hold on the smaller man. Digging his knees into the floor and lifting to his feet tugging his adversary along, keeping the man off balance and dangling as he fought against the approaching darkness. Fingers clawing red streaks over a durasteel like arm trying to pull it away, at his own neck as desperation set in, until his scarlet face looking like it was about to pop suddenly slackened and his body sagged to the ground which the commander knelt and draped him over. Only one left as he rose, Secondman still holding a hand over his bruised stomach and chest regaining his own feet.

“Son, I reckon ya’ll might consider yielding bout now.” Jackson cautioned him advancing.

“Now what kinda man would I be sir if I just turned yella and ran?” Secondman asked with a leering grin revealing his blood caked teeth.” For the glory of Soth Thejas!”

“For her glory!” The captain answered back, the two colliding together in one final, hectic blur of motion.

The crew, watching the training spar, catching a delayed glimmer of the stormtrooper, sans armor, shooting past his foe who deftly circled around him. His fist clasped together in a bludgeon which met with the trooper in the same blazing instant he’d realized his own attack had been avoided, again the bridge sounded with the terrible crack of hard bone against hard bone and Secondman fell like his brother before. Yet only to catch himself on landing knees that sounded like proton bombs rearing up like a striking viper from the floor slinging a punch which connected in Jackson’s gut, straining surgical stitching best left undisturbed, before the giant of a man grabbed his head in his calloused hand and shoved him to the ground with another explosive clap.

Raising one more time he stepped away and, the battle finished, waved for the assembled medical staff to swarm over the stormtroopers like flies over a battlefield. Jackson own personal physician of course planning his own examination but later away from prying eyes, the commander’s smile growing even wider as he imagined what Julius would say to him about his latest “recklessness”. Through he’d have to get in line the captain noted to himself reading Ambrose’s controlled expression, micro fractures in his cold reserve revealing himself.

“How’d we’all do this old time?” Jackson inquired reaching a blood smeared hand out towards his assistant to catch the green-metal blade he’d held for his commander, sheathing it as he stepped past his solemn associate and took his rightful place upon his black throne.

“Four minutes and thirty-eight seconds sir. Twelve longer than last week’s.” Ambrose duly noted with a sigh.” No doubt because of the injuries you’ve sustained during the boarding action.”

The words spoken without malice or indictment but none the less pulled at the wound of the argument they’d briefly had when Jackson had decided upon holding another of his practices matches to liven what he felt had become a dour atmosphere. As always the argument had been short and curtailed in Jackson favor much to the disagreement of Ambrose and Julius preparing his medical kit below.

“Doubt a little old scratch from a rubbery jaw flapper like that thing might slow little old me down besides by my reckoning a little excitement get ya’ll’s blood flowing speeding the dern fool healing process.” The commander laugh with the force a thousand exploding bombs as he shifted in his seat, forcefully ignoring the twinges of pain that produced, to check the displays on his arm rests.

Such proscriptions he’d governed his life from since his entering the service treating each injury as weakness which he needed to turn his weathered fist against. In some cases quite literally. Each time straining the very limitations of an organic being as well as his surgeons’ abilities to patch him up afterwards through by will alone it seemed at times he pummeled his way clear each of them.

“ As you will sire, I only mean that you not expend yourself so vigorously so soon after slaying the alien intruder. Not when such an unlit path hangs before us and danger harbors just beyond the glade of shadows.” His aid said diplomatically only to be brushed away with another bout of laughter which shook the rafters of the bridge.

“ Tarnishing between you and Julius you think I be made but from glass. Ya’ll can both cease your retting, my stout heart is going to keep beating a might longer.” Jackson said smiling, his voice like a star exploding nova.” If anything going to claim my old ticker it just should be this insufferable inaction that high falluting Tyler has seen fit to press upon us all. Blooming here we’ll have one helluva fracas down on the globe below and what does he ask of us? Keep outta way like we’ll some soft-skinned Core-Worlders needing hand holding.”

“Perhaps…” Ambrose tentatively suggested seeing a darkness eclipse briefly over his lord’s face.”…perhaps he simply is holding our forces in wait should all else fails. Like Admiral Thanagar did at Abyssus?”

The gloom shrouded world of Abyssus being an annexed world on the fringes of Imperial space which when invaded by Megarachnid had seen the arrival of a taskforce under Jackson’s banner from his growing holdings in wild space and a superiority system force under the command of than Admiral Thanagar whom effected command. Ordering Jackson’s forces, composed mostly of cruisers and frigates, distantly behind his own as his forces hecticly clashed. The Captain had obeyed through not without protest, every fiber yearning to take part in the great battle for the sake of an entire world. Illumination coming only later among the burning wrecks filling the cold void of space, the Admiral’s fleet bloodied and harried spreading it thin chasing the myriad escorts, corvettes and cruisers of the Xenos fleet. Too drained to stop the flotilla, formed piecemeal over the course of the raging conflict, of battlecruisers, engorged transports, escorts and enemy fighters which punched through the feeble screen of the defending formation and made a run for the planet itself. Fatally increasing the tide of aliens the beleaguered warriors upon its surface were already warring against if not for the interception of Jackson’s taskforce. His ship leading the way as it charged like a dagger into the heart of the formation, lesser vessels exploding around him, stabbing it.

Honorable battle at last his and upon that fiery anvil he’d hammered a warriors friendship with the rough hewn Thanagar, the two sharing many drinks after the embers of battle had long cooled. Each sharing stories of past conquests, previous glories, long into the night and come the day the two had parted Jackson for his endless expanding of the light of the Empire and the Admiral to try and wrestle what was won under control.

“No. Tyler ain’t like the Ram.” The commander mused, still with the intensity which would have pushed a Victory Star Destroyer.” Maybe the Commodore if you reckon the Admiral spoke truthfully on their acquaintance, thundering he could spin a yarn for Ya’ll through, but Tyler plum got him mystified so it ain’t no use either way. Soft Core-Worlder both of ‘em regardless, not true sons of Soth Thejas.”

“Yes sire.” Ambrose said in agreement remembering how the Subcommander he arranged for that Eldritch Abomination of a droid to be transferred to the Judgment to continue its horrific experiments. “Tyler has no honor.”

“And mark my words son there will come a day he will regret it.” Jackson thundered slamming a clenched fist onto the onyx colored armrest of his throne.” But for now we’ll just wait a might spell longer, until the order comes.”

Knowing that when it came his crew wouldn’t fail him, that the proud spirit of the South Colonials would trod all before them beneath their iron shods. Unfettered and unrestrained the enemies of the Empire would tremble, whom or whatever they were.

[Praeothmin]

Jackson's as tough an SOB as ever...

And ONCE AGAIN, you stole one of my songs... :)

[Admiral Breetai]

Jackson is an awesome character intimidating and powerful and damn Thanagars a bad ass no matter who's writing him

I am inspired you have awakened something in me

[sonofccn]

Well another effort on my part. Hope you enjoy. Oh and Preao I hope I didn't steal another of your songs. ;)

"And she hungers..." Blood stained statment found scrawled on Henry Morben's person following murder/suicid of himself and family.

Judgment, Bridge-

I.Hell’s bells AC/DC

“Status Ensign Krebe?” Came the voice the young officer now feared as deeply as it was possible.

More even, insides turning to ice water at the merest breath of the Subcommander, such that even if a slobbering Gamorrean had burst upon the bridge blood stained ax in hand with fiery hate in its small and beady eyes his first thought still would have been gaining Tyler’s wraith.

“They…they can’t find him as of yet sir. He arrived safely at the barracks but…they think he slipped away with a woman he met.” Krebe answered cringing, not daring to look at the commanding officer’s face as he spoke.” I have chastised both the Native Security liaison officer as well as our delegates team leader for this error.”

Voice cracking as he spoke knowing it wasn’t good enough, his sinuses still reeking of the musk of the former operator’s vaporized head. From the corner of his eye he could see the white armored stormtroopers by the door stiffening, preparing to step forward and claim his body like the one before. Mere waste needing to be disposed off down a waste chute and a snack for some dianoga.

“Well. I hope you managed to convey my displeasure to Gort and the Natives for allowing this to happen.” Tyler said low and even keeled but like a placid sea hinting at hidden dangers.” But the fact remains I am out an engineer. His work, the entire time table, delayed. This cannot be tolerated can it Ensign?”

“No sir.” Krebe croaked with trepidation, clammy beads of sweat forming on his skin, as he tried to steel himself.” The Empire-you don’t suffer failure.”

“No, we aren’t allowed any.” The Subcommander intoned.” We are the manifestation of the Emperor’s will, his very hand. We are not permitted such luxury, least of all now.”

Krebe feeling as if each word was an anvil upon him, weighing him down at his desk keeping him rooted in place when he wanted to run knowing what was to come. Knowing and being helpless to do anything about it, aware any protest of even the mildest kind would only worsen his fate. Dark rumors of what transgressed against those who had truly earned the second in command’s ire, be it Xenos on Astor or human stormtroopers all perished screaming for the merciful release of death.

So the Ensign was surprised when Tyler didn’t draw his blaster but instead stepped beside him leaning a hand onto the communication console. A hard unyielding face turning down to him as the second in command issued an order to raise the Native liaison officer.

“Sir…” Krebe sputtered unable to hide his surprise or the tremble at the narrowing of the superior officer’s eyes at the delay.

“Because your removal would be ill afforded, needlessly inconvenience me and fail to get to the root of the issue.” Tyler explained the unasked question.” Rest assured however if fail to comply with my order I’ll remember why I don’t need a bit of Saarlac fodder like you around.”

Needing no other incentive Krebe belted out a mewling “yes sir” and bent over the communication board opening a channel back to the world below. Surprising even himself barking orders like a Grand Admiral to the honeyed sweet female voice which pleasantly answered his hail, the first part of a labyrinth of interlocking fields and subdepartments which the Ensign barreled through refusing any parlay or detour from his goal. The Subcommander waiting, not saying anything and impossible to read, as this unfolded silently gauging it all by some invisible metric. The rubric his alone to know, failure revealed only with the unleashing of the strict and unyielding punishment, as at last the Ensign summoned the officer coordinating the man hunt for the missing engineer.

“What is the meaning of this?” He bellowed up from the station speaker, static adding to his grating voice.

“This meaning is you have misplaced one of my Commodore’s men and I would deeply appreciate a speedy conclusion to this error.” Tyler said with a tone like a Hoth winter.” This is Subcommander Tyler, whom may I ask do I have the privilege of speaking with?”

“Major Hochstetter, proud officer of security division and loyal soldier of the fatherland.” The Native answered back dripping with indignation.” And I know I misplaced…that is one of your men has gone missing. I am the one searching for him! Which I have to detain from to answer your insipid questions!”

“I would hope you are aware of the disappearance of one whom your government has pledged safety for, such as I hope you can fill in for more how exactly he eluded your security and what you are doing to retrieve him.” The Subcommander answered letting some of his veil drop away from his voice, the barbed edges setting Krebe on edge once more.

The Native officer however wasn’t him through, his bluster not diminished in the slightest as he questioned the authority of Tyler to even question the auspices of one in his position. Either failing to understand the magnitude of having a dreadnought weight Super-class Star Destroyer in orbit or simply not caring he verbally retaliated against the Subcommander. Placing energy where Tyler had placed subtle and uncheck fury where he had chosen to sharpen his frozen rage into icy fangs.

“It was your engineer which slipped out of the secured zone loyal soldiers of the Fatherland erected, slipped away with some…some woman! Is that all your people think about? Pestering loyal officers with problems and going off with pretty girls?” Hochstetter thundered, a reverb caught in the background of his mike revealing he’d struck at some table or wall in time with his pronouncement.” Pretty girls and parties! Frivolities while we still struggle to defeat the hated Schlange!”

“ The…Schlange haven’t endeared themselves to us either Major through you make a fine case for them.” Tyler spoke causing the air of the bridge to drop ten degrees.” Of course in a week they won’t be here but we will.”

“As will we, so it is best that we can fulfill the promise of human brotherhood spoken by your Commodore.” The Security officer said at last, timber for the moment regressing to a more controlled state through only as the peaceful isle at the heart of the storm.” Which means staying away allowing the Security Bureau to do it job. Rounding up disloyal citizens to the Fatherland for interrogation. Traitors all of them. To the Leader and to the Fatherland! They should be placed under twenty-four hour guard and the guards under guards to make sure no one escapes!”

Continuing on like that for several more seconds in a discoherent ramble about camps within camps seasoned with healthy jabs about all manner of “spineless” politicians. The latter’s limp wristed and weak responses culpable for the former’s treacherous actions in the view of the officer. When he finished or more accurately trailed off for breath before resuming his triad the Subcommander stepped back into it.

“ It doesn’t sound like you are accomplishing much, in the spirit of “cooperation” I am willing to grant you access to resources I have possession of.” Tyler informed the Native in a tone which laid bare his disinterest in arguing his “generosity”.” I assure you they are quite…versed in these type of situations and I think you’ll find them an asset.”

“Of that I have no doubt but we are more than capable of finding an engineer strayed because of a pretty face.” The Major answered in his quieter voice again, less flustered for the moment and perhaps physically drained from his last outburst, matching the durasteel in the Imperial’s tone.” I will find him even if I have to root up every Marxist-Capitalist squatting in every cellar in New Haven. If I have to take it apart brick by brick with my teeth I shall find him, find him and drag him back to you with a bow!”

“I’m afraid I must insist, having one of our people lost, possibly in danger, I feel compelled to do everything in my power to help find him. The shuttle will be prepped for departure in five.” The Subcommander stated firmly gesturing for Krebe to patch into the appropriate department heads.

The Ensign barely starting to move when the full force of the Native officer came blaring through the speaker’s once more. The full vibrancy of his words making it seem almost as if he was on the bridge, or if they’d received another hail from Captain Jackson, and made Krebe’s head pound from his proximity to the noise.

“NO! The Greater Imperium sovereignty shall be respected! Any unauthorized aero-craft detected shall be intercepted by the brave pilots of the Fatherland, intercepted and shot down! The survivors rounded up and put in camps!” The man gushed washing indifferently over Tyler who’s face betrayed the ever so slight facial twitch as he leaned in to his side’s speaker.

Lowering his voice further forcing his verbal sparring partner to focus more to hear it and thus its importance as he sought to inflict some sense of rationality into the disturbed individual.

“If you check with the pilots who have flown with representatives Addams and James you will realize just how unlikely it is you’ll shoot anything down but yourselves. I can call upon hundreds of Tie Fighters, how many interceptors can you rummage? How much are you prepared to risk? All for one, as you said, lost engineer.”

“I would risk all of it Subcommander, my oath to the Leader, to the Fatherland compels me to do so. To do so and die gloriously defending the Leader’s vision.” The repugnant officer all but growled, voice dropping once again like the tides of an ocean.” Any unauthorized personnel shall be put under heavy guard, then I will put the guards under guards and put them all in camps!”

His words threatening to spiral again but his resolve, still an resolute iron lode, Hochstetter began to talk about his camps again, arrayed in all manner of concurrent rings, when he was interrupted by an aid entering the radio room. The mike capturing the urgency in the young man’s voice but not the content, spoken in their natural tongue, as well as the Major’s brisk order for Tyler to “hold on” before he signed off. Leaving the Subcommander standing leaning over an inactive com link on an utterly silent bridge, sounds only resuming as he straightened up and only then the bustle of keys being slapped and the chirping of computers accepting commands as the entire duty-crew suddenly found cause to immerse themselves in work.

“Signal me when he returns.” He breathed to Krebe stepping away, face a cold mask, resuming his pacing.

Frustrated by more than the insignificant Imperium officer with delusions of grandeur and standing in the cosmos, more than the quite possible fear his abduction had been arranged but from a more basic quandary. Deran’s orders, in addition to his straightforward evaluation of the Native world, were to see to the procurement or manufacture of a specific alloy. One needed for the mysterious inner workings of the Judgment’s primary reactor, their fiery heart which could power a city for a thousand lifetimes or vaporize the colossal vessel and all aboard her in nanosecond. Stores of which the Commodore had “misplaced” thanks to the high value certain quarters placed on the highly forged material, with neither Krevin or Tyler ever asking what any such individuals planned to use it for, and without it the Judgment might as well have been an orbital station.

Secondary and Auxiliary power cores could sustain shields at diminished capacity as well as the banks of turbolasers the Super-Star Destroyer carried but even devoting their entire output they’d never achieve the transition into hyperspace with the Super class mass in anything less than six solid months of effort. Long before then the crew would have boiled from the effort without environmentals and its heat dispensers bleeding off the waste.

And that could not be allowed to happen, the great war ax that was the Judgment was needed for the Empire. For the new plans and grand vistas even now forming in Tyler’s brain, a kingdom fashioned by him unto like a pre-industrial artisan crafting a sculpture.

And so it would come to pass, even if Tyler had to reduce half of the city below to ash to do it. If not then there were other ways to deal with an obnoxious and arrogant Native. Ways less obvious and harder to trace but no less absolute.

New Hope, Dark Alley-

II.Animal I have become Three day’s grace

The man ran as hard as he could, heart sounding like a jackhammer in his chest, but it wasn’t enough. Deran tore past him more shadow than flesh, the cool night’s air cracking with the shattering of the moldy bricks lining either face of the buildings making the alleyway as he drove a hand out for a brake and pivot him towards his outpaced quarry. Jagged slivers of the smashed pressing into the fabric of his flesh, leaving blood that if he’d bothered to look at it was already starting to change colors, but he barely felt it. Not so much because his senses were deadened as one might be inclined to ponder from cheesy horror-vids but because they were so wonderfully inflamed. What was the sting of pain against the feel of the night air on his skin, in his lungs, the musk of fear on his tongue or the delicious aroma of the ruby elixir running through his prey’s veins.

And he had so much of it standing over two meters tall and seemingly nearly as wide, thick chorded muscles bulging underneath his simplistic and plaincloth shirt. No doubt deliberately chosen to showcase his well developed physique and radiate the power he exhibited, power he was intimately familiar with. His bullet shaped, shaven head with the softening fat encroaching on the iron muscle possessing the thunderstruck incredulous of one who was accustomed to his victims pitching their possessions cowering the moment he stepped forth from the shadows. Never once so much as questioning that would come a night when he’d find a wolf in sheep’s clothing or understand what spilled through the minds of his craven victims.

“Get away from me…get away devil!” He shrieked in his native tongue raising the hard nosed bludgeon in his meaty fist for a swing.

A credit to his ilk he turned to his fighting instincts at the last but it was wasted breath, like a holo-recording played at halved speed the weapon slung forth towards the Engineer until he reached up and caught it. Feeling power course through him as he tightened his grip on the man’s fist, hearing the bones crack, and turned it aside like he might a child and turning his shoulder into the would be robber shoved him. He had to have weighted a hundred kilograms, hundred and fifty easy, but there was no resistance to the attack just a simpering whoosh of exhaled air as the two of them flew across the alley. Hitting the other wall, the sound of flesh buttressing the abrasive brick surface.

Deran holding him there, arm across the thief’s chest and neck just barely holding back enough for him to breath, relishing in the sensations. The scent of the scarlet potion the Engineer craved, the tremors of his racing heart which the Engineer felt transferred through him, the cold clammy sweat of fear seeping from his pores. All was as it should be, all that Deran craved as he leaned in for his incisors to tear into the salty tang of flesh releasing the first gush of sweet, sweet blood. Yet…

With a cry that rumbled across the city he pulled back jaws snapping shut the thirst unslacked, pulling himself away from the beaten thug a cauldron of emotions churning inside of him. Not so for the pardoned figure who muttered some incomprehensible turn of phrase and turned and bolted as quickly as his legs would carry him. On the thrice step a blur descending across him from the roof above, his head vanishing from his shoulders. Without it his body sprinted onward, a red fountain sprouting from the wrenched open wound, losing its balance only when it sightlessly stumbled over an overturned trashcan. The scarlet fluid continuing to pour out and around it, edging towards the dainty soles of Slytherian’s shoes whose coverings were already smeared with droplets from the thief’s head she clenched between her hands. Her face pressed close to the crimson stub at its bottom, tongue flicking out catching rivulets of the elixir which she savored with immense pleasure.

“It’s okay.” She soothed in a voice that would have wrapped stars, alluring but heavy almost making one drowsy just listening to it.” We all struggle the first time. We know what we need but falter on how to receive it.”

Deran tried to argue, to tell that she was wrong. That it had been a man, a human, with a life that she had killed and dreams however basic or low. Tried but the words couldn’t come out, got stuck in his throat as the aroma of the thief’s blood bathed him. His thoughts dying within him, submerging, leaving only a drawn out mewling noise which escaped through his gaping mouth as he staggered towards the still warm body. Hearing Slytherian’s voice only distantly coaxing him on, encouraging him and spinning weaves to massage a conscious he for the moment couldn’t feel just the hunger a voracious gnawing that controlled him, forcing his knees to bend dropping into the spreading warm pool of blood and for him to lean over the corpse. Lapping at the still vibrant and life filled blood, tearing at the flesh off in chunks and swallowing it. Determined to take his fill and then some and his appointed chaperon watched his glutton repast and smiled.

“ Take it, take it all for this is the chattel’s purpose.” She purred, still enjoying her own treat, to him reaching to the parts that were still mortified at his actions.” To sustain those of us of the old blood, the purer blood not weakened and distilled down through the ages of time. Like the butcher to the hog so it is with us, reaping the scarlet harvest.”

New Hope, New Haven-

III.Doomsday-Nox Arcana

Entering into the room indicated by the sniveling aid Hochstetter was greeted with two of his security forces, a Corporal clutching a MP-40 and a Lieutenant with a holstered pistol, and one in the plain clothes of the secret police. In the center of them was also the battered and bloody body of Laer, a chronic drunk whose drink and regrets since the day of burning having eaten his mind away. Frequently dragged from the streets babbling about nonsensical things from years past before the war but that was the job for a junior officer in passing. For three at a time of such proportions was maddening.

“What is the meaning of this? Why have I been called away from the Star people for this…this wretch!?” He demanded with full bluster storming towards the center of the room and them.

“My Major your orders were to bring back anyone who might have the whereabouts of the missing Starman.” The Lieutenant snapped briskly, too quickly trying to cover his nervous fear.” And sir he knows things, found him speaking freely of them in the local beer hall.”

Things of course he couldn’t possibly of known, things that couldn’t be known, which was why the officer’s body now drew tense. Why his flesh prickled with beads of sweat and his voice rushed itself to be spoken trying to reassure, sooth and redirect the wrath of the black suited Major.

“What? You believe the ramblings of this…this fool over your own common sense?! Imbecile! People of his stripe do nothing but talk gossip and imbibe themselves. Drink and talk, talk and drink.” The Major thundered.” That is where he got his alleged information and whom you should be interrogating not interrupting me to deal with a soured drunkard.”

“ No sir the things he said…he couldn’t have merely heard them. That is-“ The lieutenant started before being interrupted by Laer coming to a semblance of life on the floor.

The bare lightbulbs housed in the unadorned ceiling flickering, from the cheap and poorly maintained wiring, throwing obscene shadows and suggestive shapes over his body as he lifted up onto his knees. His bloodshot eyes pinned completely open without blinking on his rigid face that was spun in a rictus grin, clearly the after affects of whatever toxins and drugs he’d ingested before his capture, only adding to the effect of the brief faltering of the light. Then it returned strong, its harsh light helping to reveal the poor fool for what he was, a broken spirit. A piece of human debris left over from the day of burning. It was important for Hochstetter to remember that to discount the disrespectful tone which spilled froth from the man’s twitching lips, grin never dissolving, as he addressed the Major.

“Lost…flown away like a fallen star, little twinkling of light lost amid the city bright. Your engineer gone but for long. Oh no Major the dawning of the sun shall see to that, revealed by the golden rays of its yawning.” Laer croaked in a bitterly acidic voice to the derisive snort of the officer.

“This is your great source?” He sneered casting a withering glance at all three who had dragged the wreck into the room. He is mad, delusional. He doesn’t know what he’s saying.”

“Don’t I Wolfgang? Don’t I know like I know your every haunting secret? Like I know the tomb cold touch of your fears, the molten heart of your rage. Oh but I know…” Laer cackled loving the way the color of Hochstetter’s pallor changed.” And I know your missing an engineer…a twinkling spec of light from larger star my mistress has set her sights upon.”

There the drunkard paused, leering with this stretched grin watching the Major’s face finish turning an unsettling shade of gray. Watching him recover his nerve, unclipping his pistol from is holster and jab it beneath Laer’s chin.

“What game is this? Who are you working for, what does she have to do with this? The Englanders? Americans? Who?” He demanded forcefully only to have his anger thrown back in his face with cold indifference.

“She has many names, all equally imperfect to describe her to those who haven’t seen. Seen like I have. You call her the devourer of bones, gluttonous she-devil of flesh, the soul-eater. I call her mistress, kneeling on her alter of tanned flesh before the crimson sea which laps upon the rotten shore.” The man replied the light dosing once again twisting and embellishing his garish features hellishly, somehow making even his voice darker and heavier.

“Nonsense. Nonsense and fairytales spun for children.” Hochstetter grunted rejecting it, voice turning more gnarled in response.” And I am too old for such things. So are you going to speak truthfully now or will we have to persuade you?”

“The only fairytales are the ones you chide yourself with to deny I exist.” The body of Laer said in a howling maelstrom of a timber.” I am everywhere, I am everyone. I’m in you and your lost engineer now that the hags of shadows have their clutches in him. Delicious the weaves you each wove…Wolfgang the ecstasy of your soul…”

In the background the secret policeman mumbled words to himself, drawing the sign of the cross over his chest as he backed away. The young faced Corporal blubbering craning his submachine gun down and stabbing it into the side of Laer while the older lieutenant merely had the color drained from his face. Each knowing of the atrocities that had been committed in the final years before the day of burning, of robbed and consumed graves and unintelligible rites that saw minds and bodies broken and deformed, and what the Americans and Englanders had blamed it on. Of something deeper than blood, of science, a malevolence intellect which hungered beyond some ethereal wall beyond the sight of mortal men. Obviously disproven by the Greater Imperium’s team of scientists, another of their devious plots to lead mankind under the thrall of aliens.

“You speak the lies of Marxist-Capitalist lapdogs! There is only man and Xeno in the galaxy no fiendish horror thirsting through eternia! And we shall round up each and every alien and grind them down into dust!” The Major spat through grinding teeth.

“You will…but it will be my sign you burn into their flesh before hand, to me you offer the blood.” The form of Laer said as the lights, in the room and throughout the building, crashed into darkness permanently.

The bulbs themselves exploding raining fiery embers down over Laer’s body as it rose up from the ground, face stretching and contorting, stretching its hands out to either side. A cold, nauseating force swelling from the gesture knocking Hochstetter and everyone else in the room off their feet. The Major hitting something in the dark, feeling sharp edges prod into his body, felt his bone jarred from the impact. He heard the sound of wood breaking and metal twisting, both dragging across him as he slid to the floor. But most of all he heard the laughter, like a scythe run across a whetstone, coming from every angle of the room. A taunting pus bloated cackle which made his skin feel like squirming maggots, filled the cloaking shadows with nightmarish half seen vistas of things…wrong. No other way to express it, those engorged phantasmal bodies, dripping heads and endless tentacles. A wrongness made manifest and among the illusions which flickered like the passing glades of moonlight another stalked made of flesh and blood. Hidden beneath the gloom and the howling cacophony it stalked…reaching out for him…

To be Continued…

Edit-Goofed on the Corporal's weapon. Should have beenthis not an MP-5

[Praeothmin]

Damn it!
You stopped at the good part...

So, Xenos and Empire and Vampires, eh?

Nice mix, and I love that, at least for a while there, Tyler had someone resist him... :)

[sonofccn]

Here's the second half, not quite as scary as I tried with the first part and more action oriented.

“Man deludes himself into believing his is lord of all creation, placed upon this pedestal by some noble and endowed creator. Perhaps this is for the best after all despite my misgivings. Perhaps it is this singular arrogance that will empower this weak creature we call man where other my arcane races in both body as well as technological privilege have perished. Perhaps…”Excerpt from manifesto of Howard Phillip.

New Haven, interrogation room-

I.I fought the Law -The Clash

Through the darkness, through the echoing laughter, Hochstetter felt the cold, noxious touch of the unseen presence once more. This time tightening around his throat like a vice, killing his feral cry before it began, and pull up. First stretching his neck out with a sickening crack and then, his ligaments holding, lifting his body up off of the floor through not before his hands closed around the handle of his pistol. Drawing it up in both hands and squeezing the trigger towards the darker shadow within the web of them which hung veiled on all corners, the flash of the muzzle revealing the taunt and grinning form of Laer as well as the bullet which stopped and shattered millimeters from the man’s chest.

“ How small.” It moaned, voice like the dripping ooze of tar pitch, as the Major fired again and again to the same effect.” I have trodden through the lost crystal towers of M’th and you think slivers of lead flung by combusting chemicals will slay me?”

Hochstetter didn’t answer, couldn’t. Only hopped it wasn’t the ringing in his ears which created the strain he heard in that voice, that treble of falter or hesitation. Knowing that if he ceased or even dared slow his attack his life was forfeit. Hoping the iron like collar closed around his neck would weaken, that the manifested shapes he saw lurking past his star twinkling vision were merely mad delusions. Product of fear and suggestion and not…other things not made of substance but no less real.

No. The repeating flash of his pistol revealed one at least was real, focus and will sharpening the lopping body from a delirious nightmare worthy of Poe to the panicked but grim faced Corporal who with a loud oath hurled himself onto the back of the…Laer creature. The soldier was strong, hearty, a full credit to his family and his heritage and the tackle would have sent men twice Laer’s size down but the creature’s knees only wobbled not fell. What did was the Major himself, the invisible hold abruptly dispelled, and once more he felt the slings of desks and chairs. Untangling himself from them with frantic but almost infantile gestures, body screaming for him to lay there gasping for oxygen, when the room was bathed in light once more.

Not from the auxiliary lighting, which the room had never had installed, but from the busted main fixtures which erupted in an electrical arc straight down into the Laer’s body. The creature taking it upon itself as it pushed itself back up from its stumble, absorbing it and directing it onto the struggling Corporal at once trying to box the Laer’s head in and strangle him. His body instantly recoiling from the voltage, flung of the creature’s back without sound like an exploding shell and sent careening into the far wall with a heavy thud. The last sight before the whitish-blue aura diminished was his body tumbling to the ground in a heap and the grinning face of Laer as the body turned from looking at its handiwork to the Major.

He in turn scrambling on his elbows and knees, forgoing the pain of his bellowing lungs, across the floor avoiding the fate of the sharp angled desk being struck by some cold gust and shattering across the room. Another such wind destroying part of the wall Hochstetter hobbled past, groping blind for something else he’d seen during the brief respite of illumination. All but praying for it, for his body to be fast enough, as he dodged that which was in the shape of a man but not of man while plunging through the shadowy manifestations of others either of its kind or in its thrall.

Giving quiet thanks when he heard a distinctly human voice call out into the darkness only for it to turn to a curse as a bullet pinged above his own head and he realized the Gestapo man was firing in blind panic through the mist like shadows. Hunting the demonic forms of Laer’s phantasmal minions through none the less one of the shots struck something softer than the drab cement wall the room had been poured from and the resultant cry was anything but human. Not animal either but to the Major grappling through the gloom it was almost like anger distilled and vocalized.

The sounds which followed as he found what he was searching for were in order a half formed yelp killed off in mid word, the sound of fabric being pulled taunt and then breaking and the sound of many squishy, heavy objects being dropped to the ground. An all too familiar scent arising from the other side of the room as Hockstetter rose up into a half crouch clutching the fallen Corporal’s submachine gun swinging it towards where the twilight image of Laer had been shown in the policeman’s gunflare. The stench of death, of blood and of fear the musk of the battlefield and to escape which propelled the Major’s limb with greater urgency than he dared hoped he could summon.

“Now! Now, shoot it now!” He screamed hoping one still lived to obey as he squeezed the firing stud revealing the creature as it swung towards him bullets exploding before it.

His pleading cry answered by the Lieutenant, crawling head bleeding from the corner he’d been thrown into, sparing one glance at the twisted pile that was the Corporal’s body before leveling his pistol two handed at the Laer-creature. Unlike the secrete policeman his shots were straight and sure forcing the monster to stagger back its wards weakening. Voice changing when it spoke, growing fainter and more threadbare, while the callous laughter died to a choking whimper and then entirely. The shadow-hellions fading too, turning back to unconstructed shades of darkness and light leaving the creature to its fate.

“You shall not destroy me!” It promised the field giving way and the first bullet biting into its flesh, vile blood spurting from voraciously opening wounds.” I lay beyond the gilded gates, the torch of eternity! I shall feast upon you, crush your bones withered with age beneath my feet!”

“You are nothing! Nothing before the combined might and purity of the Fatherland!” Hochstetter hissed back with equal devotion rising to his feet, his gun fallen silent, and into a run towards the creature.” You shall be expunged, distilled and crushed!”

His promise finished as he reached the thrashing body and before its conscious could see past the haze of pain turned the stock of his weapon towards it and struck it across the side of its skull. Sensations of joy and pleasure rippling through him as he saw the side cave, more of its tainted blood seep out from fractures as the creature flopped to the ground the power which animated it disrupted. Not pausing the Major followed after giving it not a moment to concentrate, not a second to conjure its cold force once more, driving the butt of his weapon again and again into its head and face until it cracked open like an egg spilling a sickly sea out across the floor. Then, panting, he rose tossing the gun to the ground and stepped over the corpse to retrieve his handgun, calmly reloading it as the door to the room belatedly opened for contingent of his loyal soldiers to see their commander discharging into the broken body on the floor.

Then the scaled and burned body of their fellow Corporal, the ashen faced Lieutenant who stood in the corner muttering to himself with a shaking pistol in his clenched hands and the red mess spread across one side of the room which would be only later positively identified as the vanished Gestapo man. Then they looked again to the Major as he slammed his pistol back into its holster.

“The man was working for the Capitalist-Imperialist, augmented by their alien masters.” He explained turning on his heels to storm out.” Have the body taken to SS science laboratory for analyze then dispose of it.”

*

So, Xenos and Empire and Vampires, eh?

And Elder gods. The Terrorverse is pretty much a trainwreck of two fisted pulp stories, wierd fiction and mad science. Plus Nazis.

Nice mix, and I love that, at least for a while there, Tyler had someone resist him... :)

Figured Tyler deserved a bloody nose or two. Later I'm planning on letting Krevin take a, small, whack at him but for now Hochstetter had to do.