Well another update. And Preao, Breetia come on clearly I have demostrated I can't keep this forum going by my lonesome. Cut me a break and come back guys. ;)
“Entity was a mutagenic, parasitical organism capable of rapid self-replication within a twenty-four hour period. Physiology was extremely adaptive and death resistant making it impervious to bullets. So I incinerated it.” Agent Smith explaining his actions in the Bug’s outpost.
Judgment, Engineering section 3-B-
In keeping with standard Imperial designers’ habit of challenging each other to see how dryly they could label the facets of something as awe inspiring as a Star Destroyer the bland naming shielded a full fledge workshop. Everything from plasma cutters to sensor nodes dotting work benches which perhaps hundreds worked out during the course of a normal day’s work to keep the Judgment from falling out of space. Unlike, for example, the lab of Addams and James which was equally filled the workshop didn’t seem over imposing or claustrophobic. Everything down to the stray bolts manufactured to a local size system instead of the Imperial standard having its own place, each tool laid onto its labeled peg on the walls. The room impeccable to the point of fault and immaculate where most despite the best effort of the mouse droids and sanitation services accumulated a nebulous layer of oil residues and other filths dredged from the infernal innards of the mighty starship. And all thanks for it attributable to the figure hunched immersed in his tinkering, so greatly indeed that it was the Commodore and the SubCommander who came to meet him in the workshop along with the nebbish Ensign Krebe who cowered a few meters behind Tyler.
Engineer Zarkon. Thin, Patrician, prematurely aged but dignified with hard features which appeared to have been burned out of rock. That was how he’d been during the Clone Wars before riding a Victory down into a planet’s crust. Before he’d been thrown through a bulkhead, burned, lungs seared breathing the Emperor knew what and left stranded inside a “dead zone” puckered scar on a backwater world. Crawling out of a deck combusting into flames to a charred wasteland, days of agony latched to a homemade stretcher as the rest of the survivors carried him to the nearest intact settlement. Longer still before a Republic ship found their distress beacon returning him to civilized medical care.
Now he was permanently curved and knotted his skin splotchy possessed of an unnatural tinge, once powerful voice now scratchy and given to raspy coughing fits. But he endured and not for a moment had his mind ever weakened becoming sharper when the lesser elements had been expunged against the primal heat of the incident.
“You honor me.” He voiced without looking up from the Protocol droid’s arm he was soldering.” Seldom do we get officers this deep down the gullet.”
“Even angels must, at times, descend to lesser planes.” Krevin said with a smile he didn’t feel stopping behind the chief Engineer same as the SubCommander.”If you can make time we would like the material confirmed.”
“Well give it here then.” Zarkon answered pushing off of the table and swinging one of his grizzled palms out.” Of course I can’t explain how our stores of it evaporated, I lodged our supply after we left port and they were secure as a baby with its mother.”
It was a straight forward matter of principal that the Engineer didn’t condone of the black market games which were played through he had benefited from them from time to time. As well he could have nothing more than suspicions on how the resources had been “misplaced” and he was wise enough not to voice any he did have too loudly. Still couldn’t help but tack upon a reminder as he handed over the vital pendant, such a small trinket for what could be their key to the galaxy at large.
“If you are finding it difficult to maintain logistics it can always be arranged for your more strenuous duties to be taken over by your younger peers.” The SubCommander said in a voice which could have frozen a Star Destroyer into a ball of ice.
His barb taken in the full, malevolent, spirit it was intended the Engineer merely grunted and pretended to be fascinated with the sample tilting his hand out over his desk spilling the amulet onto it and reaching to the wall above his head to retrieve a lensed piece gadget he slide over his right eye. One of the “blessings” he’d received from the flow of contraband to and fro the Judgment, the alien scanner prohibited to most circles by Imperial decree. Possessing wide-spectrum sensors a tenth of the size of comparable ones engineered by humanity it could detect a single micron wide fracture instantly where an Imperial scanner team would need hours of careful calibration. The device as well could be used to peer through solid walls as the army legions had learned in the siege of Go’loth Prime to their bloody detriment, such loss why the Emperor had seen fit to prevent the infernal devices to fall into the Rebellion in mass.
“Horrendous metallurgy…massive scoring to the outer layers and the impurities have almost not been worked out…” Zarkon observed muttering more to himself, his eyepiece whirring as the color lenses within it shifted dominance.”…was this created from an old style black iron forge? Even baktoid armor put out better quality than this…bit of costume jewelry.”
“But is it…what we need.” The Commodore stressed putting the full weight of his command in what he spoke.” We ill afford a mistake at this juncture, not with this.”
“We’ll never be able to use it…not like this.” The Engineer retorted, lifting the pendant up and biting it once to complete his analysis process.” We would have to set up an entire process, we are not rigged to be able to refine this stuff on our own. Very temperamental, both in the melting process and when we solidify it. One mistake and your fancy hypermatter is going to be dispelling our molecules to the next star system.”
“So it is it? Yes?” Krevin asked repeating his query, needing to be absolute before the clenching in his stomach would go away.” And you can refine it, yes?”
“Of course it is it…anyone with eyes could see that.” He grunted tossing the amulet back to the SubCommander and turning to his droid limb.” And I think we might be able to give you something, won’t be the easiest but I think we can manage, but we are going to need a bigger allotment than that piece. About a metric ton more of raw ore.”
It was a fairly obvious hindrance through in his time first in the Republic Navy and then the Imperial Zarkon had learned to be frank and up front about such simplicities. Between the Blue Bloods who believed the stars were theirs by ancestral right, the boot kissers acting as regents to some over starched Moff or merely the indoctrinated academy graduate eager to leave his mark on Imperial History it seemed at times half of the Starfleet was composed of people who didn’t know their hand from their rumps.
Not that this was a particular concern regarding the two officers through, the playboy and the living dread, both seasoned and well-versed commanders. If nothing else the Engineer had to grant them that.
“ You don’t have to worry about that, just draw up the total amount you need and I will see that it is provided.” Krevin, turning with Tyler, almost flippantly disregarding the concern.” Merely ensure that you have everything ready when it comes, pull all of your crew you need. This is top priority.”
Which was a minor sacrifice, Zarkon using the time since they’ve entered orbit around the Native world to whittle away at the workload their arrival had saddled him with. Beyond basic maintenance, which was an never ending chore to keep up a ship which stretched for seventeen kilometers, his crews had been exemplary in their task freeing them to the new daunting. Plans already starting to form in the Engineer’s head, still working with the droid’s hand, on how he wanted to bring it all to life.
The Commodore and Subcommander, with Krebe in tow, meanwhile briskly exiting the mechanical master’s chambers withholding their boyish excitement on the confirmation until they were well out of earshot of the gnarled man. Through any who inadvertently saw the large grin on Tyler’s as they made their way towards the turbolifts was likely to be more unnerved than the second in command’s typically more stern and reserved expression.
“Well that settles that. Now all that remains is how we are going to go out and get it.” Krevin, feeling a surge of confidence, happily bemused feeling as if the stars had aligned in his favor for once.
“Thankfully in that regard the mining facility isn’t controlled by the Natives, so we needn’t be so circumspect.” Tyler answered firmly, wanting just as much as his commander for the Judgment to returned to her full and terrible prowess.” The asteroid thicket is much too great for their crude sensors to see anything. We’ll have a free hand.”
Deran, in addition to obtaining the pendant, having made as he described descript inquiries as to its source finding that the particular metal hailed from a mining station which worked the dispersed asteroid field they’d detected on first arriving.
“The Greater Imperium considers it unaligned but it does have the sympathy of…Ah-merika…” The Commodore cautioned with a name he’d only read in what sparse cultural packets that had been exchanged.”…whom are allied with the planet England. That could pose a difficulty.”
“But not enough to prevent us from getting what we need?” Tyler asked, or was it a test, as they reached the lift door and summoned them.” It would disadvantages to trade for material, the quantities we’ll need would raise notice I would not find advantageous. Last of all before we are finished and fully powered.”
“Absolutely. We can’t risk any finding out about our weakness.” Krevin answered smoothly stepping through the parting elevator doors.” We must take it. If England or Merika do show up to dispute we can offer them compensation through if they are comparable to the Greater Imperium we can simply dispense with them all together.”
“Then we just have to decide which ship to send.” Came the SubCommander’s response following him, Krebe slipping in behind him.
“Really? I’d have wagered Jackson would be the immediate choice. Hard assault, right up his specialty.” The Commodore, looking to his second, voiced eager for weight on the matter.
“Colonials are war-reeks. Powerful but no control. Send them in and we’ll be lucky to have half an asteroid thicket when all is said and done. It is advantageous for us to capture the mine intact in order to hasten our mining operations. We need someone with self-restraint and an ability to follow orders. Someone like George and the Talon-II.”
Which was true, why he’d been drawn to the Star Destroyer Talon-II and her commander. A very unassuming or gallant individual content to live in the shadows and meticulously complete his objectives with steadfastness as opposed to flash or harrowing skill. It was also true that Captain George was the least likely of the two Star Destroyer commanders to make a play against the Commodore and that half way across the system the Talon-II would be too far away to help if things suddenly went wrong. But that was coincidence, surely.
“Factual and straightforward. The academy would approve.” Krevin said watching his second for any sign beneath his composed face.” Not that they train for being marooned in another galaxy of course.”
Interlude-
Krona, Denerio-
I. 30 seconds to mars-this is war
“How’s the day looking about now sir?” Thyde cheerfully shouted at the elbow of Killgore and even then was barely a whisper over the cataclysm which reigned beyond the sturdy defensive walls of the bank.
The howl of Damien, the wizened auditor of the perpetual destitute, rushing over the top most edge of the wall along with finite sheets of broken glass and pulverized concrete which came down over everyone like bitter rain. More gusting in through the gunports, stuffed as best could be managed with rags, from a cityscape which from every passing moment dissolved more and more into itself. The chunks solid enough to survive their tower’s collapsed transformed into projectiles which slammed into stone keep’s walls with a thunderous crack or, to the relishing of delighted cheers, with the softer splat of more porous material breaking against it.
“Still better than those dreckers a thousand meters closer to the blast zone.” Killgore chuckled being sure one of the new camera-robots Thres squad had helped unload caught his remark.” Wouldn’t you agree?”
Which wasn’t a disputable point, unless once which to argue being vaporized was somehow an improvement, but Sammus had felt it important during the “boring” siege for there to be some idle, “unscripted” banter which normally would be lost in a fight scene. As well it gave the Atune something to do as he set on the second story with his back against the trembling masonry breathing silt filled air, you needed something to focus steady frag-bursts of the raining bombs or you went a tad peculiar. The droning of seemingly unending explosions rocking ones brain to gelatin or you run yourself ragged worrying that the ten thousand meter high bombardier aboard the stratojet mistook the radar blip of the bank as his target and released his payload.
And he refused to stay below in the temple’s vault where the refugees had been sequestered. He’d gone there once the bombs had began to fall in earnest and the meds now circulating through his system had taken effect. For them, as Sammus insisted, so that they knew that he as a symbol of the Defenders was still watching over them and for himself so that he could see their faces. See which ones from his convoy had made it, which ones had been in ill fated vehicles which had become stuck or stricken. That had been boarded or crashed, gutted by flame and the sword. He had to know not out of some misguided sense of self-pity, an entire city was being cremated outside well room enough for all the sorrow in the world, but an obligation that each merited no less. Needing to know their faces so that their names laser etched into a Remembrance rock, their soul, could be linked to it.
The previous one, like most of the cities dotting the globe, at the heart of the city had dated back to world’s founding, to the millions of Defenders who had perished wrestling the world from the Vraen. Each entry burned in tidy, small font to most efficiently list the persons full name as well as birth and death date it had none the less seemed massive when a youngling Killgore had stood before it resting a hand against it cold, slick onyx surface. Years later of course he had expertly drilled in the precise losses incurred on the Khordon of a whole, the specific loose alliance of Trader worlds they were allied too, the ratios and the full cost inflicted upon the Vraen scum which had harbored and launched raiding parties from there. Even then through it had been beyond proper rationalization, the figures beyond conceptual grasp. Not now through, the six month campaign to route and hunt down the Vraen was equivalent to one red filled day of the hybrid’s barbarism against the once fair city. And the rock laid to mark this battle would have too be many times bigger to hold everyone before it was over. Assuming there would be anyone who cared to implement such actions.
So he put on a brave face, cracked jokes with Thyde or with the other defenders and pointedly asked sage wisdom from the holy security order. Anything to keep busy against the backdrop of scuttling downpour.
“Look out, here comes your fan club.” Thyde again just barely murmured against the noise, pointing to the ladder where Thres squad’s First Atune clamored over.
Through apparently Mnorel had exceptional senses because no sooner had the words been given voice onto the turbulent ethers than his own cut across the falling bombs.
“Actually I was only president of my own hometown’s junior Defender, and at that only for a few weeks before my actual enlistment.” He announced nonplussed finishing dragging himself over the edge.” But I was a particularly vocal member during my short term.”
“I bet you were, but tell me how does it feels to wear the real boots? How heavy is real ceramic plate?” Killgore asked honestly batting away the cameras which swirled around him in a frenzy capturing all aspects of his visage.” How does it all measure up?”
“Can’t rightly say sir. I won’t lie and say this is how I imagined our meeting but…the armor sir? Lighter than air and the boots fit snugly.” The squad leader answered.” My rifle isn’t heavy either, and my visor sees clearly.”
“Well that’s all we can ask of a trooper.” Thyde cracked as the First Atune judged the other’s answer.” Well that that he can shoot worth a dreck.”
His following laugh dying on the fire scarred winds as a grimness settled over both Killgore and Mnorel, the latter seeming to gain a few years, both knowing it hadn’t been hero worship which had drew him into the rafters.
“Situation change?” The Uno squad leader asked at last, tinges of fear if the fusion loaded bombers were being called into action.
“Not as yet no. Its…well you need to see it for yourself sir. If you’ll come with me into the temple…” The younger Atune said clearly uncomfortable in providing any superior answers.
For the barest moment his eyes turning to Thyde, both exchanging worry that the First Atune wouldn’t be able to do it. That the stimulants had run too much of their course for them to keep his battered body in motion but with guttural sigh Killgore laid those fears to rest. Knees popping loudly as he dragged a hand over the rough wall’s surface pushing himself up right and then gesturing for his younger peer to take the lead down the hewn steps. Thyde stepping up behind his commander as he then scrambled down.
Into the chaotic Bivouac the encrusted Defenders had sat up manning the perimeter, ammo boxes and automated sentry guns clustered alongside restless warriors fidgeting with their mess kits. All slowly being drowned beneath the falling layers of soot, ash and atomized debris the avionic pounding the city was suffering released. Mounds of its were filling up the ground, more spilling off of the trooper’s bodies with every concussive blast which rattled the thick protective slab of stone, creating a most cushioned carpet for the trio to walk to the bank’s once ornament doors. The spiritual iconography smudged and smeared into incomprehension while the gold and silver’s luster of the door itself had been somehow drained. Similarly desecration to be found past its doors in the form of the centuries old mural of Investor Yenom chasing off the anarchist-heathens from the temple-bank of Kceen’Bagri, the wall in which it reside growing spider like fissures across it from the constant churning despite the best efforts of the anointed caretakers of the holy place. Past the squawking robed Klerks, through the strewn of containers brought into the shelter and the piles of scratchy dust which had come with it, they made their way to the halls of deposits. And from there descended down the ivory railed staircase which descended into the earth, which the light fixtures switched from the opulent but hazy glowrods to more threadbare ones with a harsher but more revealing glare. Down to the sterile and drab walls of the vaults themselves, colossal engineering of titanium, steels and cements for which to shelter the most precious of resources. Mammoth structures with meters thick walls, once they had stood as the last defense of wealth against the barbaric communal tribes.
Their walls filled to the brim with coins of coppers, platinum and gold through following the recent Epoch and the rise of electronics they’d been reduced to mere symbolism. An elaborate alter to their creed, a relic which save for the grand vaults where the wireless orders were ultimately processed and guaranteed no longer had purpose. Until now, each open bank door they passed now overcrowding with survivors. Nervous, tired, weary people who shifted unconsciously with every dull blast that filtered its way down through the thick ceiling. They looked expectantly when they caught sight of Killgore, despite his tarnished uniform and haphazard appearance, holding their breath as if to coax some great words from him. As if there was anything he could say, anything he could do as if to simply dispel what they experienced light a night’s dream.
Those in front spilling out between the cement frames, those behind stretching trying to squeeze through. Yearning with their haunted eyes, begging with their dirt and blood encrusted hands. And all he could do was nod, inform them all was under control. Question a few to ensure water was being disseminated through their ranks, others to gauge how far they had left to go before they left the bend. All quite short but no less memorable as the First Atune was led to a gritty, iron door riddled with the neglect of rust and sagging hinges. Almost swallowed up by the shadows which hung veiled across the wall, forgotten by the march of ages the way the vaults hadn’t been. Yet inside beyond the rickety pivots was a cozy if cluttered room lit by one bare bulb from the ceiling and almost taken up by a monstrous contraption with snaking cables which curled up and vanished into the walls and black mesh speakers which hissed and popped with an acid washed stucco of static. Kneeling in front of it, appearing to be worshipping at some pagan fane, a Defender clutched at a notebook scribbling with a fountain pen.
A curiosity Killgore started to speak on when a particular grumble from the venerable radio caught him, his interest only growing more aroused at the specific pauses and bursts which followed. Seeing understanding dawning Mnorel nodded and with a sweep of his hand in the cramped room gestured to the device.
“Yes…old style military code. Something no one has seen out of the academy in likely ten generations and yet here it is. A repeating signal.” The mystified squad leader elucidated.
“Have we responded? Is it Command?” Thyde, fighting to fit into the room, demanded to know to which Mnorel only shook his head.
“No. It’s not Command. It isn’t anyone…that is it isn’t on any specific frequency known friend or ally. In truth this is a Relic device, what the Klerks tell me they used to maintain the monetary exchange before shifting to digital. It’s an unsecured, analogue with minimal broadcast. We shouldn’t be able to receive anything on it with everything going off out there.” He continued not liking what he was saying in the least.” Yet something, something powerful, is generating interference above and beyond what the battle is putting out across the entire spectrum that piece of junk can read.”
“By a presence which knows our codes.” The First Atune surmising everything.” I presume it’s intelligible.”
“Yes and repeating.” The cryptologist crouched on the floor said looking up.” First the sequence for distress followed by a claim of civilian survivors about a klick from here then ends with a repeat of the distress signal. Over and over again without fail.”
“Manna from heaven. If you can believe it.” Mnorel finished up with a sigh.” But what transmitter with that power could survive out there? And why couldn’t they transmit verbal?”
“Doesn’t matter. A voice is calling out in the dark. Either we need to save them or we need to silence them to keep anyone else from being led astray.” The Uno squad leader said making a decision.” Are they transmitting grid coordinates as well?”
“Yes sir along with number of survivors.” The cryptologist replied flipping his booklet back a page and pointing to it with his pen settling the matter.
