Just to let you know, the next chapter might not be posted on time, as I will be attending a college prep camp later this week, and probably wont be back until monday afternoon. I hope that I will have finished it by that time.
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Freelancer Fanfic: Ragnarok (Attempting to come out of retir
Read, add and comment on excellent written stories by fans, set within the Freelancer universe
Tue Jul 19, 2005 11:57 am
Thank you all for your constant support. Your positive feedback has really boosted the confidence that I have in my writing
Just to let you know, the next chapter might not be posted on time, as I will be attending a college prep camp later this week, and probably wont be back until monday afternoon. I hope that I will have finished it by that time.
Just to let you know, the next chapter might not be posted on time, as I will be attending a college prep camp later this week, and probably wont be back until monday afternoon. I hope that I will have finished it by that time.
Mon Jul 25, 2005 12:33 pm
Well, I was able to really crack down and write this chapter on time. Feel free to reply, freedom of speech is a given.
Chapter 16
Battleship Relentless, Omicron Minor system
There was a murmur of activity on the bridge of the battleship Relentless. Several ship personnel sat in front of the instrument panels, keeping in check with the fighters that were patrolling the surrounding area, keeping watch over the jumphole to Omicron Theta, and supervising the battleship’s functional systems, searching for flaws that could hinder the Relentless’ performance.
Orad-Porel impatiently paced back and forth across the bridge, making random aggravated huffs as he plodded down the same line over and over. Needless to say, he was quite upset. With the main reactor down, the Relentless was unable to attain the power required to successfully activate its teleportation system. That meant that the mighty ship was unable to advance into the next system, and was therefore left behind as a secondary task force departed to attack and destroy the human base and ships that Orad wanted so much to see destroyed with his own eyes. As the captain, he was not allowed to leave the ship.
Orad heard the bridge door open. He turned and watched as the giant soldier Rames-Une-Teral step, or rather duck, through the doorway. Rames approached the ship captain, and with a respectful “sir,” he knelt in salute, his head so low that the hair growing from the sides of the soldier’s elongated jaw brushed the grungy deck plates.
“Your presence surprises me, Rames-Une-Teral,” Orad-Porel stated, allowing the soldier to rise. “What brings you here?”
Rames inhaled deeply. “Sir,” he started, “the soldiers that you ordered to inspect the damage caused by the explosion in the reactor room have found that the effected area has some…” Rames paused, nervously clearing his throat, “…unusual characteristics.”
All activity on the bridge ceased as those within earshot of the conversation overheard what Rames had stated. The damaged area had ‘unusual characteristics’? What in the name of the gods did that mean? Was it possible that Rames-Une-Teral spoke of sabotage? What an intolerable suggestion! Surely a rebel could not have infiltrated the security system and performed such a loathsome act without being detected!
Orad-Porel narrowed his eyes, his anger growing as he realized exactly what Rames was talking about. “Show me,” he said through gritted teeth.
Rames saluted again. “Yes sir. Follow me.” The drastically oversized Invader rose, turned, and dutifully left the bridge, with Orad-Porel close behind.
Orad-Porel closely followed Rames, but kept a reasonable distance between himself and the soldier to compensate for the leviathan’s massive stride, taking three broad steps to travel the distance that Rames covered in one. The deck shuddered with each step as Rames maintained a brisk pace. Still, this was not quick enough for Orad-Porel.
“Move faster, soldier. I don’t like to be kept waiting.”
Rames was reluctant, but nevertheless broke into a lumbering jog as he traveled down the hall, forcing other Invaders to back against the walls as he charged on by. The Relentless was an extremely large ship, and it would take several minutes to reach the area where the explosion had taken place. Rames knew that his body was not made to jog such a distance in normal gravity; he was simply too large for that. It wouldn’t be very long before his muscles began to tire, but the soldier knew that Orad-Porel would not appreciate it if he started to slow when he became fatigued. Rames would have to keep up the pace for the entire trip; he only hoped that his legs would not give out.
Orad-Porel, however, did not tire at all as he followed Rames-Une-Teral on a twelve-minute trip down halls, up ramps, through doors, down more halls, and across a bridge that picked its way between several massive cooling towers. The journey ended when the two Invaders slipped through a large door that led into the cavernous room that housed the Relentless’ main reactor. When operational, the reactor was extremely powerful, so inadvertently it was also extremely large. The dark grey machine stood roughly two-hundred-ten feet high, one-hundred-fifty feet wide, and five-hundred-twenty feet long. The front of the machine was dominated by a tremendous elongated capsule: the antimatter compression chamber. Several massive pipes connected the reactor to the ship’s fuel ballasts, allowing the machine to draw dark matter from the reserves into the reservoir and compress the substance. A controlled explosion within the chamber would then force the antimatter to give off a tremendous amount of energy. The emitted energy was then absorbed by specialized sensors and stored in the Relentless’ central battery, three decks below.
Rames-Une-Teral was exhausted. Now sweating profusely, he sat down on all fours, panting heavily. His heavy breathing caught the attention of the ship’s captain.
“What’s the matter, Rames-Une-Teral? Feeling tired?” Orad-Porel sneered. He saw fatigue as a weakness, and it displeased him that Rames was tired after the trip.
Rames looked up in surprise. “What? No sir…” he said, shakily rising to his feet. Despite the fact that his lungs were screaming for air, Rames forced himself to breathe normally. “I am at my full capabilities, sir.”
Orad could easily tell that the soldier was lying, but he allowed it to slide. Orad looked at the reactor, then back at Rames.
“I don’t see any damage, Rames-Une-Teral.” Orad said quizzically. Is this some kind of joke?”
Rames pointed a finger at the reactor. “The damage is on the other side, sir,” he replied. “I would escort you there, but the deck on that side was weakened in the blast, and I fear that it would not support my weight.”
Orad-Porel nodded and trekked to the other side of the antimatter reactor, where true to Rames’ word, the carnage lay. Looking at the reactor again, Orad saw that the compression chamber had ruptured, leaving a hole six feet wide. For twenty feet all around, the deck around the damaged area was charred and half-corroded. Orad was not alarmed by the scene; this was what usually happened when a reactor backfired. The compression chamber would spring a leak and the dark matter would jet out of the opening, eating any metal that it came into contact with. Orad stepped onto the blackened portion deck; it creaked, but it held. Upon closer inspection, Orad noticed that even though the scene made it look like the reactor had backfired, there were several details showing that it wasn’t. The first thing that Orad’s trained eye noticed was that the edges of gash in the reactor’s compression chamber were bent inward instead of outward. Second, from the small circular pits the deck, the corrosion had been brief but strong, instead of the typical long and weak exposure. Orad let loose a ferocious roar as he realized what had REALLY happened. The reactor hadn’t backfired.
It had been a bomb.
*****
Jun’ko Zane sat at the edge of the bed, still in her nightwear, sipping on her morning glass of water. She casually watched as her fiancé, Edison Trent, shaved in front of the mirror. She had been worried lately about him - about their future. Trent had told her about the Invaders that had been waiting by the Omicron Minor Jumphole, but the news that they had been destroyed by a Corsair attack group was a welcome relief. Still, Juni wondered if their lives would ever be able to get back to the way they were before.
“You were dreaming last night, Jun’ko,” Trent said, sensing Juni’s worries. “What were you dreaming about?”
Trent’s question surprised Juni, but knowing that he liked to hear about her dreams, she willingly complied with her fiancé’s request.
“Well…” she began, recalling what had happened, “the dream I had last night was kind of strange. You were there, (Trent smirked at this)…and there was this talking white fire.”
Trent finished shaving and washed his face, then walked over to the bed and sat next to Juni, putting his arm around her shoulder. “Okay,” he said, intrigued, “what did the fire say?”
Juni set her glass down on the bedside table. “It said many cryptic things, like ‘light will repel the darkness,’ and ‘the old gives way to the new,’” Juni said smiling. “Stuff like that. The things it said were very comforting somehow. The fire had a name… I can’t remember what it was. It began with ‘E.’”
Trent leaned pushed Juni’s black hair behind her ear and gently kissed her lips. “I’m glad that that you had a relaxing dream, Jun’ko,” he said, smiling. “I wish that I could do the same.”
Juni smiled sweetly back at her fiancé. “Thank you, Edison.”
“I’m hungry,” Trent stated, standing up. “Do you want to get dressed and head down to the mess hall?”
Before Juni could answer, the ship intercom came to life. “Alert!” an automated voice warned, “Invader fighters approaching. Alert! Unknown ships approaching. All fighter pilots, report to your ships.”
“Dammit,” Trent thought as the message began to repeat. “Don’t these guys ever take a break? And what surprise have they brought this time?!” He turned to Juni, who was staring back at him, a bewildered expression on her face. “Looks like getting food is out of the question. Come on!” Juni came to her senses and jumped up from the bed, and grabbed her LSF jumpsuit. Trent moved to help her.
“You go ahead, Edison,” she said urgently. “I’ll catch up with you.”
Trent saw that Juni was not in the mood for arguing. “All right, Jun’ko. Just don’t be too long.” He threw on his brown leather jacket and headed out the door.
*****
Unasht-Nevtul-Muun, captain of the burner Turmoil and commander of the attack fleet, was taken aback by what he saw as his ship emerged from the asteroid field. Through the curved monitors on the bridge, he saw a ghostly yellow dwarf, heavens that were filled with countless stars, smears of colorful nebulas, and brilliant galaxies, all seemingly frozen in time. He had never seen such a spectacular sight before, only familiar with space that was covered in ugly clouds, all being shades of either grey or brown.
With duty at hand, Unasht did not let his mind wander for very long. He had the coordinates where the human base and ship were; he might as well pay them a visit. Unasht turned around and walked towards the center of the bridge, where a small instrument panel had been placed.
Unasht looked at the panel. The left side of its surface was occupied by a screen that displayed various objects and their relative coordinates to the Turmoil. In the middle, an eleven-key numeric keypad took up a good portion of the surface. On the far right, there was a familiar large yellow lever, bordered to the south by a linear charge gauge, which currently read full. Yes, this was the console that was connected to the Turmoil’s teleportation system, and the only instrument panel that the captain operated.
Unasht entered a set of coordinates that would put him three R (roughly 3.7 K) away from the human base, and secured the lever in his firm grip. All the other ships had emerged from the asteroid field, and were awaiting his orders to teleport. And now, he was ready. He directed his attention to his communications officer.
“Communication,” he said, getting the soldier’s attention. “Send the signal to move for the human base on my mark. Mark!” The communicator pushed a button that sent the signal for the other ships to teleport to their given coordinates. Unasht pulled the lever. In the background, he heard the teleportation device fire up, and he felt significant pain as his body was broken up and reassembled elsewhere. The pain subsided, and the captain found himself enveloped in darkness. The darkness gave way to light as the ship’s electronics powered up again. Monitors blinked on, revealing the new space that surrounded them. Both the human base and battleship were now visible, centered in the front monitor. The burner ships slowed their approach, while the fighters rushed in to attack.
Unasht spoke again, this time to his weapons manager. “Armament!” he growled. “Begin charging the main cannon. Aim for the human battleship.” The orders were acknowledged, and Unasht felt the ship shift slightly as the forward weapon cluster was brought to face the Osiris. In the background he heard rhythmic muffled explosions as the reactor started pumping energy into the weapon battery.
If there was one thing about the Turmoil’s main weapon that Unasht-Nevtah-Muun did not like, it was the fact that it required a large amount of power to start the weapon cycle, and during the charge period the ship’s defense turrets were offline. What happened after that priming charge was built, however, made it all pay off. The turrets were activated, and the forward weapon cluster would emit a focused stream of dark matter, making seven unbroken beams of destruction that would burn and melt their way through anything they came across. The time that the weapon was engaged was limited only to the amount of available fuel; as long as was kept within safe operational parameters, the weapon battery could be recharged faster than the main cannon depleted it. This powerful ‘clusterbeam,’ as some called it, gave the Invader burner ships a serious edge in battle.
Armament spoke up. “Main cannon charging, sir. Four minutes until starting cycle.”
*****
Freeport 9 was being evacuated, a constant stream of ships pouring out of the launch bays and fleeing into the surrounding nebula. Some made it; others were taken down as they became prey to the Invader fighters.
Trent had barely left the Osiris’ docking bay, and already he was under fire. His Sabre’s cockpit was flooded by harsh red light as a bolt of enemy fire barreled by just beyond the glass, the glowing red head leaving in its wake a customary black trail of dark matter. Startled, but not phased, Trent pushed the engines to full and joined the fray. He targeted the nearest Invader fighter and launched one of his newly acquired cannonball missiles. The pilot of the alien fighter was too busy trying to take down a Corsair to notice the incoming missile. Trent watched as the missile drove its way right up into the engine and detonated, splitting the hull and peeling it outwards, leaving the ship looking like a strange flower. The crippled fighter started to vent atmosphere, and began to spin like a top as it spiraled off into the distance. Trent had no time to celebrate, as another Invader fighter popped into existence to his low left. The fighter scored a direct hit on the Sabre, and Trent saw his shield gauge drop from full to one-third. He punched the thruster and zoomed away, dropping a ripper mine in the hopes of deterring his opponent. To his dismay, Trent’s maneuver did not have the desired effect, and the Invader managed to land two more volleys on the Sabre, the second impacting upon the ship’s protective grey armor. Trent swore when he heard a crash as his hull was struck and instinctively engaged shield batteries, regaining the protective force field around his ship. He swung the Sabre around, trying to get his pursuer in his sights. However, the attacker disappeared in a puff of dark matter, and reappeared behind Trent once again.
Trent decided to get a little creative. Targeting the fighter once more, he swiveled his cruise disruptor around and fired a hornet – backwards. The hornet impacted upon the red fighter’s nose, disorienting the fighter. Trent once again spun around and this time he succeeded in landing enough shots on the ship to effectively tear into the cockpit and kill the pilot. Without someone behind the wheel, the Invader fighter was reduced to little more than floating debris.
*****
“Two minutes until starting cycle, sir.”
Unasht-Nevtul-Muun frowned. His approach was too slow. At this rate, by the time the main cannon was charged, the human battleship would still be out of range. Unasht found this somewhat ironic; he knew that a beam weapon should not have a limited range, and should cut a perfectly straight line through space, without the slightest shudder by the weapon itself. Yes, the Turmoil’s main cannons were fixed, that didn’t mean that the barrels didn’t wobble in their cases. That small trembling would make the beams arc out wildly over long distances, and eventually disperse.
Unasht directed his attention at the engine operator. “Engines! Double our current speed.” His orders were obeyed, and the burner ship started to accelerate, pulling ahead of the Agony. Unasht was close enough to see the firefight around the human base. He noted with great displeasure that the filthy aliens seemed to be holding their own. He responded quite as personally as he could. Unasht strode over the communications console, rudely pushed the communicator out of the way, and opened a channel to the burner ship Agony.
Unasht-Nevtul-Muun started barking orders. “Agony! Pull ahead and aid the fighters. Charge the enemy!” The captain of the Agony started to complain, saying that he almost had a full charge, but Unasht would not hear of it. “Do as I say, soldier! I am in command here!” Reluctantly, the other captain acknowledged the order, canceling its clusterbeam’s priming charge and opening the engine throttle. Unasht watched as the Agony briskly fly ahead the Turmoil, bringing its four turrets to bear.
“Sir,” armament said suddenly. “One minute until starting cycle.”
*****
Jun’ko Zane dropped out of the Osiris and into the battle that raged around her. She joined the Zoner, Corsair, BH and Order pilots, all of whom were valiantly holding off the Invader attacks. The Corsairs and Bounty Hunters were doing nicely. The Zoners, however, weren’t faring too well.
“Good to see you, Jun’ko,” said a familiar voice through the comm. “Jump in where you can.”
Juni keyed a response. “Will do, Edison.” She tagged the nearest Invader fighter and pursued it, pounding the hull with her cannons. The ship took notice of Juni’s attacks and teleported elsewhere. “Dammit,” Juni thought as the fighter disappeared before she could take it out.
Suddenly the system-wide comm. channel came alive, and Orillion’s concerned face appeared on its dynamic screen. “To all ships! A large unknown contact is on approach. Stay alert, and engage if it appears hostile!” The transmission was terminated.
With the other fighters holding off the Invaders, Juni found the time to locate the incoming contact. She eyed a 3d model of the object which her computer automatically drew up, complete with its calculated dimensions. It was very large, bigger than a Liberty cruiser. The first thing Juni noticed was the huge fin that rose from its back: it reminded her of a Mohawk. The sight of four weapon turrets and an oversized engine proved the contact to be a ship, and an impressively fast one at that; Juni’s ship calculated its approach at one-hundred-thirty-five KPS (which is very fast, considering that Invader ships do not possess cruise engines). Juni looked away from the screen and spotted the thing closing in on the battle. She saw the unknown ship in all its glory, complete with pointed fins and red chrome armor.
“An Invader cruiser?” Juni wondered with disbelief.
As the ship came within weapons range, the turrets along its sides warmed and belched, unleashing several volleys of hellfire as it attacked the human ships, the salvos puncturing shields and tearing through armor as they met their targets with a ravenous hunger. Several Corsairs and Zoners went down, the survivors scattering like dust in the wind.
Juni was so immersed in the spectacle that she did not notice an Invader fighter teleport behind her until it started pounding away at her shields, bringing it within a hairbreadth from failure. Snapping back to the dilemma at hand, she veered off, swearing, angry that she allowed herself to become so sidetracked. She deployed a mine, which struck her attacker on one of its front wings, cracking it in two. The Invader fighter was undeterred, and fired its cannons again, breaking what remained of the defender’s shield and scoring a hit on the lower engine.
Juni had only noticed that she was being chased towards the Invader cruiser when she saw the thing aim a turret at her and fire. Juni gasped in surprise and fear, but years of flying experience took over. Almost instinctively, she pulled up on the steering lever and fired her thruster, and not a moment too soon. The defender shuddered as the destructive bolt grazed its underside, shearing through the silver-grey armor as it passed by, landing full-force on Juni’s surprised pursuer. The alien ship was incinerated.
With the introduction of the Invader cruiser, however, the tides of the battle were turned and set. That thing was devastating, destroying any human ships that came too close. And now, slowly creeping towards the Osiris, the burner ship Turmoil was moments away from firing its main weapon.
Orillion came back on the system channel, anger in his voice. “Another contact on approach, same as the last one. We can’t hold them off, everyone retreat!” Orillion then switched to the faction channel. “Regroup in Omega-41.” The comm. went silent, and the Osiris activated its cloaking device, fading from view. The remains of the human forces parted.
*****
Unasht-Nevtul-Muun rubbed his eyes. Were the monitors malfunctioning, or had the human battleship just disappeared? What did it do? Whatever it did, it didn’t look like it was teleporting.
“Sir?” said armament, getting the captain’s attention. “The clusterbeam is ready to fire.”
Unasht snorted in disappointment. “Target the base, and fire the main cannon!”
*****
The Osiris had not drifted very far, and was close enough to watch as the new Invader cruiser fired its forward weapon cluster.
Orillion watched in horror from the bridge as a bright red glow began to emanate from the weapon’s seven fixed barrels, pool together, and burst altogether as seven red energy beams erupted from the nose of the Invader cruiser. The beams screamed through space, impacting upon Freeport 9. The beams steadily burrowed into the base, digging straight down until they found the other side, blowing away huge gobs of molten metal as they punched through. After a few seconds of continuous fire, the beams became encased in a cloud of their own thick black contrails, and were now only visible as red lightning that roiled underneath.
As Orillion continued to watch, the alien cruiser pivoted, exposing the energy beams to parts of the dead base that were still untouched. The biodomes were ruptured, spewing geysers of white atmosphere into space. The residence hub was blown through. Orillion stood stock still as Freeport 9 was cut, cleaved, sliced and skewered, over and over, without cease.
Orillion closed his eyes and lowered his head, a long sigh of dismay escaping his lips. He couldn’t watch any more. He announced his departure from the bridge and retreated to his quarters. He desperately needed a drink.
Chapter 16
Battleship Relentless, Omicron Minor system
There was a murmur of activity on the bridge of the battleship Relentless. Several ship personnel sat in front of the instrument panels, keeping in check with the fighters that were patrolling the surrounding area, keeping watch over the jumphole to Omicron Theta, and supervising the battleship’s functional systems, searching for flaws that could hinder the Relentless’ performance.
Orad-Porel impatiently paced back and forth across the bridge, making random aggravated huffs as he plodded down the same line over and over. Needless to say, he was quite upset. With the main reactor down, the Relentless was unable to attain the power required to successfully activate its teleportation system. That meant that the mighty ship was unable to advance into the next system, and was therefore left behind as a secondary task force departed to attack and destroy the human base and ships that Orad wanted so much to see destroyed with his own eyes. As the captain, he was not allowed to leave the ship.
Orad heard the bridge door open. He turned and watched as the giant soldier Rames-Une-Teral step, or rather duck, through the doorway. Rames approached the ship captain, and with a respectful “sir,” he knelt in salute, his head so low that the hair growing from the sides of the soldier’s elongated jaw brushed the grungy deck plates.
“Your presence surprises me, Rames-Une-Teral,” Orad-Porel stated, allowing the soldier to rise. “What brings you here?”
Rames inhaled deeply. “Sir,” he started, “the soldiers that you ordered to inspect the damage caused by the explosion in the reactor room have found that the effected area has some…” Rames paused, nervously clearing his throat, “…unusual characteristics.”
All activity on the bridge ceased as those within earshot of the conversation overheard what Rames had stated. The damaged area had ‘unusual characteristics’? What in the name of the gods did that mean? Was it possible that Rames-Une-Teral spoke of sabotage? What an intolerable suggestion! Surely a rebel could not have infiltrated the security system and performed such a loathsome act without being detected!
Orad-Porel narrowed his eyes, his anger growing as he realized exactly what Rames was talking about. “Show me,” he said through gritted teeth.
Rames saluted again. “Yes sir. Follow me.” The drastically oversized Invader rose, turned, and dutifully left the bridge, with Orad-Porel close behind.
Orad-Porel closely followed Rames, but kept a reasonable distance between himself and the soldier to compensate for the leviathan’s massive stride, taking three broad steps to travel the distance that Rames covered in one. The deck shuddered with each step as Rames maintained a brisk pace. Still, this was not quick enough for Orad-Porel.
“Move faster, soldier. I don’t like to be kept waiting.”
Rames was reluctant, but nevertheless broke into a lumbering jog as he traveled down the hall, forcing other Invaders to back against the walls as he charged on by. The Relentless was an extremely large ship, and it would take several minutes to reach the area where the explosion had taken place. Rames knew that his body was not made to jog such a distance in normal gravity; he was simply too large for that. It wouldn’t be very long before his muscles began to tire, but the soldier knew that Orad-Porel would not appreciate it if he started to slow when he became fatigued. Rames would have to keep up the pace for the entire trip; he only hoped that his legs would not give out.
Orad-Porel, however, did not tire at all as he followed Rames-Une-Teral on a twelve-minute trip down halls, up ramps, through doors, down more halls, and across a bridge that picked its way between several massive cooling towers. The journey ended when the two Invaders slipped through a large door that led into the cavernous room that housed the Relentless’ main reactor. When operational, the reactor was extremely powerful, so inadvertently it was also extremely large. The dark grey machine stood roughly two-hundred-ten feet high, one-hundred-fifty feet wide, and five-hundred-twenty feet long. The front of the machine was dominated by a tremendous elongated capsule: the antimatter compression chamber. Several massive pipes connected the reactor to the ship’s fuel ballasts, allowing the machine to draw dark matter from the reserves into the reservoir and compress the substance. A controlled explosion within the chamber would then force the antimatter to give off a tremendous amount of energy. The emitted energy was then absorbed by specialized sensors and stored in the Relentless’ central battery, three decks below.
Rames-Une-Teral was exhausted. Now sweating profusely, he sat down on all fours, panting heavily. His heavy breathing caught the attention of the ship’s captain.
“What’s the matter, Rames-Une-Teral? Feeling tired?” Orad-Porel sneered. He saw fatigue as a weakness, and it displeased him that Rames was tired after the trip.
Rames looked up in surprise. “What? No sir…” he said, shakily rising to his feet. Despite the fact that his lungs were screaming for air, Rames forced himself to breathe normally. “I am at my full capabilities, sir.”
Orad could easily tell that the soldier was lying, but he allowed it to slide. Orad looked at the reactor, then back at Rames.
“I don’t see any damage, Rames-Une-Teral.” Orad said quizzically. Is this some kind of joke?”
Rames pointed a finger at the reactor. “The damage is on the other side, sir,” he replied. “I would escort you there, but the deck on that side was weakened in the blast, and I fear that it would not support my weight.”
Orad-Porel nodded and trekked to the other side of the antimatter reactor, where true to Rames’ word, the carnage lay. Looking at the reactor again, Orad saw that the compression chamber had ruptured, leaving a hole six feet wide. For twenty feet all around, the deck around the damaged area was charred and half-corroded. Orad was not alarmed by the scene; this was what usually happened when a reactor backfired. The compression chamber would spring a leak and the dark matter would jet out of the opening, eating any metal that it came into contact with. Orad stepped onto the blackened portion deck; it creaked, but it held. Upon closer inspection, Orad noticed that even though the scene made it look like the reactor had backfired, there were several details showing that it wasn’t. The first thing that Orad’s trained eye noticed was that the edges of gash in the reactor’s compression chamber were bent inward instead of outward. Second, from the small circular pits the deck, the corrosion had been brief but strong, instead of the typical long and weak exposure. Orad let loose a ferocious roar as he realized what had REALLY happened. The reactor hadn’t backfired.
It had been a bomb.
*****
Jun’ko Zane sat at the edge of the bed, still in her nightwear, sipping on her morning glass of water. She casually watched as her fiancé, Edison Trent, shaved in front of the mirror. She had been worried lately about him - about their future. Trent had told her about the Invaders that had been waiting by the Omicron Minor Jumphole, but the news that they had been destroyed by a Corsair attack group was a welcome relief. Still, Juni wondered if their lives would ever be able to get back to the way they were before.
“You were dreaming last night, Jun’ko,” Trent said, sensing Juni’s worries. “What were you dreaming about?”
Trent’s question surprised Juni, but knowing that he liked to hear about her dreams, she willingly complied with her fiancé’s request.
“Well…” she began, recalling what had happened, “the dream I had last night was kind of strange. You were there, (Trent smirked at this)…and there was this talking white fire.”
Trent finished shaving and washed his face, then walked over to the bed and sat next to Juni, putting his arm around her shoulder. “Okay,” he said, intrigued, “what did the fire say?”
Juni set her glass down on the bedside table. “It said many cryptic things, like ‘light will repel the darkness,’ and ‘the old gives way to the new,’” Juni said smiling. “Stuff like that. The things it said were very comforting somehow. The fire had a name… I can’t remember what it was. It began with ‘E.’”
Trent leaned pushed Juni’s black hair behind her ear and gently kissed her lips. “I’m glad that that you had a relaxing dream, Jun’ko,” he said, smiling. “I wish that I could do the same.”
Juni smiled sweetly back at her fiancé. “Thank you, Edison.”
“I’m hungry,” Trent stated, standing up. “Do you want to get dressed and head down to the mess hall?”
Before Juni could answer, the ship intercom came to life. “Alert!” an automated voice warned, “Invader fighters approaching. Alert! Unknown ships approaching. All fighter pilots, report to your ships.”
“Dammit,” Trent thought as the message began to repeat. “Don’t these guys ever take a break? And what surprise have they brought this time?!” He turned to Juni, who was staring back at him, a bewildered expression on her face. “Looks like getting food is out of the question. Come on!” Juni came to her senses and jumped up from the bed, and grabbed her LSF jumpsuit. Trent moved to help her.
“You go ahead, Edison,” she said urgently. “I’ll catch up with you.”
Trent saw that Juni was not in the mood for arguing. “All right, Jun’ko. Just don’t be too long.” He threw on his brown leather jacket and headed out the door.
*****
Unasht-Nevtul-Muun, captain of the burner Turmoil and commander of the attack fleet, was taken aback by what he saw as his ship emerged from the asteroid field. Through the curved monitors on the bridge, he saw a ghostly yellow dwarf, heavens that were filled with countless stars, smears of colorful nebulas, and brilliant galaxies, all seemingly frozen in time. He had never seen such a spectacular sight before, only familiar with space that was covered in ugly clouds, all being shades of either grey or brown.
With duty at hand, Unasht did not let his mind wander for very long. He had the coordinates where the human base and ship were; he might as well pay them a visit. Unasht turned around and walked towards the center of the bridge, where a small instrument panel had been placed.
Unasht looked at the panel. The left side of its surface was occupied by a screen that displayed various objects and their relative coordinates to the Turmoil. In the middle, an eleven-key numeric keypad took up a good portion of the surface. On the far right, there was a familiar large yellow lever, bordered to the south by a linear charge gauge, which currently read full. Yes, this was the console that was connected to the Turmoil’s teleportation system, and the only instrument panel that the captain operated.
Unasht entered a set of coordinates that would put him three R (roughly 3.7 K) away from the human base, and secured the lever in his firm grip. All the other ships had emerged from the asteroid field, and were awaiting his orders to teleport. And now, he was ready. He directed his attention to his communications officer.
“Communication,” he said, getting the soldier’s attention. “Send the signal to move for the human base on my mark. Mark!” The communicator pushed a button that sent the signal for the other ships to teleport to their given coordinates. Unasht pulled the lever. In the background, he heard the teleportation device fire up, and he felt significant pain as his body was broken up and reassembled elsewhere. The pain subsided, and the captain found himself enveloped in darkness. The darkness gave way to light as the ship’s electronics powered up again. Monitors blinked on, revealing the new space that surrounded them. Both the human base and battleship were now visible, centered in the front monitor. The burner ships slowed their approach, while the fighters rushed in to attack.
Unasht spoke again, this time to his weapons manager. “Armament!” he growled. “Begin charging the main cannon. Aim for the human battleship.” The orders were acknowledged, and Unasht felt the ship shift slightly as the forward weapon cluster was brought to face the Osiris. In the background he heard rhythmic muffled explosions as the reactor started pumping energy into the weapon battery.
If there was one thing about the Turmoil’s main weapon that Unasht-Nevtah-Muun did not like, it was the fact that it required a large amount of power to start the weapon cycle, and during the charge period the ship’s defense turrets were offline. What happened after that priming charge was built, however, made it all pay off. The turrets were activated, and the forward weapon cluster would emit a focused stream of dark matter, making seven unbroken beams of destruction that would burn and melt their way through anything they came across. The time that the weapon was engaged was limited only to the amount of available fuel; as long as was kept within safe operational parameters, the weapon battery could be recharged faster than the main cannon depleted it. This powerful ‘clusterbeam,’ as some called it, gave the Invader burner ships a serious edge in battle.
Armament spoke up. “Main cannon charging, sir. Four minutes until starting cycle.”
*****
Freeport 9 was being evacuated, a constant stream of ships pouring out of the launch bays and fleeing into the surrounding nebula. Some made it; others were taken down as they became prey to the Invader fighters.
Trent had barely left the Osiris’ docking bay, and already he was under fire. His Sabre’s cockpit was flooded by harsh red light as a bolt of enemy fire barreled by just beyond the glass, the glowing red head leaving in its wake a customary black trail of dark matter. Startled, but not phased, Trent pushed the engines to full and joined the fray. He targeted the nearest Invader fighter and launched one of his newly acquired cannonball missiles. The pilot of the alien fighter was too busy trying to take down a Corsair to notice the incoming missile. Trent watched as the missile drove its way right up into the engine and detonated, splitting the hull and peeling it outwards, leaving the ship looking like a strange flower. The crippled fighter started to vent atmosphere, and began to spin like a top as it spiraled off into the distance. Trent had no time to celebrate, as another Invader fighter popped into existence to his low left. The fighter scored a direct hit on the Sabre, and Trent saw his shield gauge drop from full to one-third. He punched the thruster and zoomed away, dropping a ripper mine in the hopes of deterring his opponent. To his dismay, Trent’s maneuver did not have the desired effect, and the Invader managed to land two more volleys on the Sabre, the second impacting upon the ship’s protective grey armor. Trent swore when he heard a crash as his hull was struck and instinctively engaged shield batteries, regaining the protective force field around his ship. He swung the Sabre around, trying to get his pursuer in his sights. However, the attacker disappeared in a puff of dark matter, and reappeared behind Trent once again.
Trent decided to get a little creative. Targeting the fighter once more, he swiveled his cruise disruptor around and fired a hornet – backwards. The hornet impacted upon the red fighter’s nose, disorienting the fighter. Trent once again spun around and this time he succeeded in landing enough shots on the ship to effectively tear into the cockpit and kill the pilot. Without someone behind the wheel, the Invader fighter was reduced to little more than floating debris.
*****
“Two minutes until starting cycle, sir.”
Unasht-Nevtul-Muun frowned. His approach was too slow. At this rate, by the time the main cannon was charged, the human battleship would still be out of range. Unasht found this somewhat ironic; he knew that a beam weapon should not have a limited range, and should cut a perfectly straight line through space, without the slightest shudder by the weapon itself. Yes, the Turmoil’s main cannons were fixed, that didn’t mean that the barrels didn’t wobble in their cases. That small trembling would make the beams arc out wildly over long distances, and eventually disperse.
Unasht directed his attention at the engine operator. “Engines! Double our current speed.” His orders were obeyed, and the burner ship started to accelerate, pulling ahead of the Agony. Unasht was close enough to see the firefight around the human base. He noted with great displeasure that the filthy aliens seemed to be holding their own. He responded quite as personally as he could. Unasht strode over the communications console, rudely pushed the communicator out of the way, and opened a channel to the burner ship Agony.
Unasht-Nevtul-Muun started barking orders. “Agony! Pull ahead and aid the fighters. Charge the enemy!” The captain of the Agony started to complain, saying that he almost had a full charge, but Unasht would not hear of it. “Do as I say, soldier! I am in command here!” Reluctantly, the other captain acknowledged the order, canceling its clusterbeam’s priming charge and opening the engine throttle. Unasht watched as the Agony briskly fly ahead the Turmoil, bringing its four turrets to bear.
“Sir,” armament said suddenly. “One minute until starting cycle.”
*****
Jun’ko Zane dropped out of the Osiris and into the battle that raged around her. She joined the Zoner, Corsair, BH and Order pilots, all of whom were valiantly holding off the Invader attacks. The Corsairs and Bounty Hunters were doing nicely. The Zoners, however, weren’t faring too well.
“Good to see you, Jun’ko,” said a familiar voice through the comm. “Jump in where you can.”
Juni keyed a response. “Will do, Edison.” She tagged the nearest Invader fighter and pursued it, pounding the hull with her cannons. The ship took notice of Juni’s attacks and teleported elsewhere. “Dammit,” Juni thought as the fighter disappeared before she could take it out.
Suddenly the system-wide comm. channel came alive, and Orillion’s concerned face appeared on its dynamic screen. “To all ships! A large unknown contact is on approach. Stay alert, and engage if it appears hostile!” The transmission was terminated.
With the other fighters holding off the Invaders, Juni found the time to locate the incoming contact. She eyed a 3d model of the object which her computer automatically drew up, complete with its calculated dimensions. It was very large, bigger than a Liberty cruiser. The first thing Juni noticed was the huge fin that rose from its back: it reminded her of a Mohawk. The sight of four weapon turrets and an oversized engine proved the contact to be a ship, and an impressively fast one at that; Juni’s ship calculated its approach at one-hundred-thirty-five KPS (which is very fast, considering that Invader ships do not possess cruise engines). Juni looked away from the screen and spotted the thing closing in on the battle. She saw the unknown ship in all its glory, complete with pointed fins and red chrome armor.
“An Invader cruiser?” Juni wondered with disbelief.
As the ship came within weapons range, the turrets along its sides warmed and belched, unleashing several volleys of hellfire as it attacked the human ships, the salvos puncturing shields and tearing through armor as they met their targets with a ravenous hunger. Several Corsairs and Zoners went down, the survivors scattering like dust in the wind.
Juni was so immersed in the spectacle that she did not notice an Invader fighter teleport behind her until it started pounding away at her shields, bringing it within a hairbreadth from failure. Snapping back to the dilemma at hand, she veered off, swearing, angry that she allowed herself to become so sidetracked. She deployed a mine, which struck her attacker on one of its front wings, cracking it in two. The Invader fighter was undeterred, and fired its cannons again, breaking what remained of the defender’s shield and scoring a hit on the lower engine.
Juni had only noticed that she was being chased towards the Invader cruiser when she saw the thing aim a turret at her and fire. Juni gasped in surprise and fear, but years of flying experience took over. Almost instinctively, she pulled up on the steering lever and fired her thruster, and not a moment too soon. The defender shuddered as the destructive bolt grazed its underside, shearing through the silver-grey armor as it passed by, landing full-force on Juni’s surprised pursuer. The alien ship was incinerated.
With the introduction of the Invader cruiser, however, the tides of the battle were turned and set. That thing was devastating, destroying any human ships that came too close. And now, slowly creeping towards the Osiris, the burner ship Turmoil was moments away from firing its main weapon.
Orillion came back on the system channel, anger in his voice. “Another contact on approach, same as the last one. We can’t hold them off, everyone retreat!” Orillion then switched to the faction channel. “Regroup in Omega-41.” The comm. went silent, and the Osiris activated its cloaking device, fading from view. The remains of the human forces parted.
*****
Unasht-Nevtul-Muun rubbed his eyes. Were the monitors malfunctioning, or had the human battleship just disappeared? What did it do? Whatever it did, it didn’t look like it was teleporting.
“Sir?” said armament, getting the captain’s attention. “The clusterbeam is ready to fire.”
Unasht snorted in disappointment. “Target the base, and fire the main cannon!”
*****
The Osiris had not drifted very far, and was close enough to watch as the new Invader cruiser fired its forward weapon cluster.
Orillion watched in horror from the bridge as a bright red glow began to emanate from the weapon’s seven fixed barrels, pool together, and burst altogether as seven red energy beams erupted from the nose of the Invader cruiser. The beams screamed through space, impacting upon Freeport 9. The beams steadily burrowed into the base, digging straight down until they found the other side, blowing away huge gobs of molten metal as they punched through. After a few seconds of continuous fire, the beams became encased in a cloud of their own thick black contrails, and were now only visible as red lightning that roiled underneath.
As Orillion continued to watch, the alien cruiser pivoted, exposing the energy beams to parts of the dead base that were still untouched. The biodomes were ruptured, spewing geysers of white atmosphere into space. The residence hub was blown through. Orillion stood stock still as Freeport 9 was cut, cleaved, sliced and skewered, over and over, without cease.
Orillion closed his eyes and lowered his head, a long sigh of dismay escaping his lips. He couldn’t watch any more. He announced his departure from the bridge and retreated to his quarters. He desperately needed a drink.
Mon Aug 01, 2005 4:13 am
The story continues as chapter 17 is now up! Comment or criticize at your leisure.
Chapter 17
Omicron Theta system, 40 minutes later
The decimated remains of Freeport 9 spun slowly in the vacuum, orbited by clouds of debris, ranging in size from microscopic to as large as skiffs. Some pieces came from fighters, freighters and cargo vessels, but most were from the base itself, distinguishable by edges that had melted and solidified where Turmoil’s clusterbeam weapon had cut through.
An Invader landing craft passed through the debris, its front bay door wide open, catching whatever happened to fall into the opening. The dropship, roughly resembling a manta ray, was not intended to perform in such a way. However, it was a common compensation to use the dropship to salvage debris instead of launching numerous fighters to gather it, a process which was much more time-consuming. At any rate, the gathered materials would be analyzed, piece by piece, and hopefully recognized for any value to the Invader military. It was important to ‘know your enemy,’ and right now the Invaders were attempting to bring their knowledge of the humans up to date.
It had taken the Invaders completely by surprise when the Osiris had cloaked, and nobody in the Invader society knew exactly what had happened to it. As the news would leak out, many rumors would spring forth, the most accurate that was to develop would be that the human battleship could turn invisible. Technically this was true, but only to its literal extent. The most common rumor would be that the humans had developed some kind of teleportation system of their own. The most appalling rumor that would develop was that the theory that Osiris had been spared through divine intervention. “Total nonsense,” Invader military superiors would come to state flatly. “Our gods would never aid those who are united under the names of heathen demons.” Nevertheless, those caught spreading the rumor would pay dearly for their wild speculation, punished through various methods of torture and public humiliation.
The dropship, its large bay nearly full, made one last pass through the cloud of debris before returning to the Relentless and handing over its findings. With the bay now completely full, dropship sealed the door and activated its teleportation system. The ship, along with its cargo, scratched itself out of existence.
*****
The thick blanket of high-altitude dust, suspended miles over the underlying terrain, was penetrated by the orange glare of a pulsating red giant, the variable host star of the Invader homeworld. This fluctuating Mira-type star filled a quarter of the sky, illuminating the rugged planetary landscape with a pulsating glow that ranged from bright orange to a deep red hue. One such feature that can bee seen in the shifting light is a towering snow-capped mountain, known by the local inhabitants as ‘Messenger.’ Each day as the land is heated by the alien sun, the snowcap begins to melt, forming several streams of water that flow down to the base of the mountain and dump their contents into a nearby lake. However, one such stream, before entering the lake, winds through the Invader capital, splitting into smaller streams and entering various buildings on the perimeter. One of these buildings is the Master’s personal bathhouse.
Selestren-Kulam stood nearly waist deep in a pond of cool water with his powerful arms outstretched, feeling very relaxed. Wading around him, Selestren-Kulam was in the presence of five other beings who busied themselves scrubbing the leader clean. Although these beings were Invaders, they were not battle-hardened infantry of any kind. They were smaller than most soldiers, the largest only being six feet tall, still dwarfed by Selestren-Kulam’s eight foot stance. They were not near as muscular as most soldiers, and their hair was trimmed short and present upon the majority of their bodies – also unlike the soldiers. And what made these Invaders different from ANY soldier was the fact that they, by nature, had no crest. They were unlike any Invader seen on the battlefront, the reason being that these Invaders were of a different gender – they were female.
Selestren-Kulam eyed each one of the females as they continued to bathe him, giving him constant positive support on his leadership and looks, as well as promising him good sex and a strong son. And that was the exact reason why they were in the Master’s presence, here and now… Selestren-Kulam’s crest was changing with the seasons, and was starting to turn a vivid yellow. He would need a mate soon. Several weeks ago he had started his search for acceptable candidates, and had since narrowed his choices down to the five females that currently surrounded him. To humans, these alien women would have looked greatly unattractive, but through Invader eyes, Selestren-Kulam saw them all as stunningly beautiful, and practically everything that he could ask for in a mate; they were loyal, dedicated and submissive. But only one of them would be given the honor of being the mother to his offspring, including an heir to his position as leader of the Invader race.
The Invader society is one that is totally male-dominated. In this culture, the women have only one job: breeding. They would couple with a male, mate, and hopefully yield a healthy offspring. If the child was female, the mother would raise her on her own. If the child was male, at the age of two months he would be handed over to the military and raised as a soldier (very few Invader soldiers know who their fathers are, and have few memories of their mothers). Despite the fact that it is supposed to be a great honor, some Invader women are be very reluctant to give their sons to the military and can become emotionally scarred as a result. Some go into depression and deny themselves the ‘pleasure’ of mating, while some of the more emotionally upset females turn rogue and seek out alliances with those who feel the same (most Invader rebels are female, due to these circumstances). Many are captured and executed, but some manage to hide from their oppressors, unite, and make an attempt strike back.
This was not the case for the mate or offspring of Invader leaders. Upon acceptance, the female was pulled from the common breeding ritual and were allowed to attend their offspring under the attentive (and sometimes commanding) eye of the father. This is how the first and only Invader family in accepted society had been formed six generations ago, with Selestren-Kulam now at its peak… and wishing to secure the future of his bloodline.
Selsestren-Kulam suppressed a smile as one of the surrounding women ran a wet rag down his right arm, cleaning his long black hair, pleasing him as she gently squeezed the superbly defined muscles, her hand traveling all the way down to his fingers.
“You are very powerful and handsome, Master,” she said in a seductive tone. “I would be honored to give you a strong heir.” Selestren-Kulam grunted appreciatively. The other Invader women took note of his reaction and closed in on the Invader leader, each one clamoring for his attention.
“Master, your leadership skills surpass that of your father’s or his father’s.”
“Should you choose me as your mate, Master, I promise that I will make it more than worth your while.”
The bath was interrupted by a knock on the bathhouse door. Selestren-Kulam let his arms drop to his sides and motioned for the surrounding females to step out of the pond. Without hesitation, the females moved to the shoreline at the rear of the bathhouse.
Kulam stepped out of the pond. “Enter,” he stated in a loud voice.
The iron door swung open and an Invader capital guard, donned in a significant amount of armor, stepped through and knelt in salute. “Master,” he began in a humble manner, “one of your soldiers wishes to see you. He brings news from the battlefront.”
Selestren-Kulam turned to the women, all of whom had their eyes fixed upon him. “Leave,” Kulam stated flatly. The females looked disappointed, but they obediently knelt in salute and quietly walked single file out the door.
Kulam returned his attention to the capital guard. “Send him in.”
“Yes Master.” The guard rose and left, a few seconds later replaced by an unarmored soldier. The soldier saluted.
Kulam instantly recognized the soldier, but decided to make his identify himself anyways. “State your name, and position, soldier.”
The soldier gave an inaudible huff or irritation. “Master, you know me as Orad-Porel, captain of the battleship Relentless. I bring… disturbing news from the battlefront.”
Kulam frowned, already disliking this meeting. “Disturbing news? Tell me what you know.”
“Yes Master. The first thing is that the Relentless was apparently infiltrated by rebels who planted a bomb by the reactor. The Relentless is currently unable to teleport.”
“I already know that, soldier,” Kulam said, crossing his arms. “What else?”
It came as a surprise to Orad that Selsestren-Kulam already knew this fact; the captain was supposed to be the first give out the information. But Orad knew better than to question his Master’s sources and continued. “Master… the humans may have teleportation technology of their own.”
Kulam scowled and stepped closer to the soldier. “What??” he asked in an angry voice.
Orad-Porel managed to hold back his sudden nervousness. “It was a human battleship at the battle, Master. When the burner ships closed in, it disappeared.”
“Did you look for it?” Kulam demanded.
“Well… no, Master.”
Selestren-Kulam was greatly angered by what he heard. Orad had allowed the human battleship to escape! Kulam walked right up to the soldier, determined to give him something to remember his inaction by. He had finally been presented with a reason to punish the captain, something that he had wanted to do for a long time.
“Turn your head, soldier.” Kulam said casually. Orad nervously did as he was told.
Selestren-Kulam raised his right hand and swiped at Orad’s face, his claws tearing through flesh and penetrated down to the bone, forming two long jagged gashes across the soldiers face, starting just below the eye and streaking across the maw, ending at the chin. Before Orad could react, Kulam formed his other hand into a fist and drove it into the soldier’s stomach, bruising the underlying abdominal muscles. Orad-Porel exhaled explosively and doubled over, but was brought back up as the Invader leader planted a powerful right hook under Orad’s chin. The soldier flipped over backwards, stunned and unable to get up. Kulam kicked the defeated Invader for good measure.
Selsetren-Kulam stood over a frightened Orad, a look of disgust on his face. “I despise you, Orad-Porel,” he sneered. “I have held a great dislike for you for many years now. I personally wouldn’t mind if I had to replace you, so I suggest that you don’t make me see you as a liability, for your sake. Do you understand?” Wide-eyed, Orad nodded.
Kulam eyed the gashes upon the soldier’s face, yellow blood now pouring out of the wounds. “You will not treat those wounds in any way, soldier,” he said sternly. “You will not clean them; you will not stitch them. Are my orders clear?”
“Yes Master.” Orad managed to croak.
“Good,” Kulam said seriously. “Now make haste and return to the Relentless. Get out of my sight. NOW!” Orad wobbled to his feet and scrambled out the door.
*****
Many things had happened aboard the Osiris in the hour since the loss of Freeport 9. Lord Hakkera had left the ship and was attempting to sneak by the Invaders in Omicron Theta and talk to the Outcasts on Malta to speed up their decision on supplying aid. The Zoners and Corsairs in Omega-41 had been alerted to the Invader threat and were now in the process of deploying mines around the jumphole to Omicron Theta. And at long last, an exhausted colonel Kress had finally arrived from the Tau systems, and was now in the process getting some desperately needed sleep.
The hallways were quiet. Everybody either had somewhere to be or were in their quarters, mulling things over, worrying about friends, family, and what sort of affect the Invaders might have upon Sirius.
The silence was broken by the sound of footsteps as Jun’ko Zane walked swiftly towards Orillion’s private quarters, located at the end of the hall. She was worried about him. After the Order’s retreat, the commander had retreated to his room and refused to come out. Juni knew that he did this sometimes when he was stressed or worried, but never for this long.
Juni came to a halt in front of Orillion’s door and sharply rapped her knuckles upon it, then used the door-side keypad to open a communication link with the room. “Orillion?” she called into, hoping that he was there. “It’s colonel Zane. Do you mind if I come in? I want to talk to you.” Silence. Juni knocked on the door again. “Orillion, are you in there?” Still no response. Juni was about to walk away when a tired-sounding Orillion suddenly responded.
“Come in, Jun’ko,” he said slowly, almost lazily.
“Oh… he was sleeping,” Juni thought. This realization eased her worries greatly. Although her primary concern was null, Juni still wished to discuss some things with Orillion. She opened the door and entered.
Orillion’s quarters was similar to the standard crew quarters, albeit more luxurious. It twice as big as the others, and was furnished with a blue queen size bed, a refrigerator, various storage areas, a sink with an underlying garbage chute, and a small bathroom.
“I’m sorry sir,” Juni started apologetically as she stepped in. “I didn’t know you were slee…”
Juni’s words died in her throat when she saw Orillion. He was sitting at a small wooden table with two chairs. Orillion occupied the far seat, stooped forward, holding a large bottle that was three-fourths filled with a strange green fluid that was complemented with delicate wisps of purple. From her position, Juni could see that he commander’s were glazed. He hadn’t been sleeping. He was drunk.
Juni quickly closed the door and approached Orillion. “What are you doing?” she hissed.
Orillion stared at her. “Relaxing,” he responded in a tired, slurred voice, as if the answer was very obvious. He picked up the bottle and held it out to her. “Want some?”
Juni took the bottle and sniffed its contents, wincing as her nose was hit by the drink’s offensive odor. It was definitely alcoholic; it smelled MUCH stronger than the Liberty ale that she was used to, even more potent than the stuff that Trent sometimes drank.
“What is this stuff?” Juni asked her intoxicated commander.
Orillion suppressed a hiccup. “Stellar Rum,” he finally said. “It’s really good.” He smiled at Juni and motioned to the other seat across at the table. “Sit down.”
Against her better judgment, Juni, still holding the drink, heeded her superior’s request and slid into the chair. Orillion smiled and moved to retrieve the bottle, but Juni pulled it out of his reach. The commander looked at the colonel with a why-are-you-doing-this-to-me expression on his face. Juni sighed and rolled her eyes, ignoring the man’s lackluster attempt to guilt her into returning the rum. She was hoping that Orillion, in his altered state of mind, wasn’t going to do anything stupid.
Juni looked at the drink, then at Orillion. “Orillion, why are you drinking this stuff?”
Orillion sat up, swaying slightly, giving Juni a blank stare. “I told you,” he said, his words slurred together, “I’m relaxing.”
Juni could smell the alcohol on Orillion’s breath, and was already becoming aggravated by his nonsensical answers. “With something as strong as this?!” she remarked, showing him the bottle. Orillion made another grab for the bottle, but again the colonel pulled it away. “Why?” Juni asked again.
Orillion’s expression remained blank. “I like to relax,” he said, his words blending into each other.
Juni huffed in aggravation and looked down at the table. “What am I going to do with you, Orillion?” the thought to herself. “What am I going to do?”
“You’re very pretty.”
Juni quickly pulled her head up and looked up at her commander, a bewildered look on her face. “What?”
Orillion looked a Juni, a stupid smile forming across his lips. “I said you’re very beautiful.”
Juni was taken aback by Orillion’s remark. “Please, Orillion, stop. You know I’m already spoken for.”
“No really,” Orillion insisted, speaking clearly enough to be understood, “You have great legs, a pretty face, and a magnificent bosom…” he made an impressed whistle, or at least tried. “…you are a good-looking woman.”
Orillion’s remark put Juni very on-edge. Sure, she was used to men approaching her in such a manner, but that was only in the bar. She could tolerate it coming from someone she didn’t know, but coming from Orillion, not to mention the way he said it… to plainly put it, it was very creepy. Juni had a decent amount of sence telling her to leave, but she decided to stay, if only out of the respect she held for her commander.
Juni leaned forward, a stern look in her face. “Don’t do that,” she said in a serious voice. “I don’t like it.”
Orillion made another attempt to retrieve the rum, this time succeeding in pulling it from Juni’s grasp. “Well, la-di-dah,” the man retorted, taking a swig from the bottle. “I complement you and you b*tch about it.” Juni’s eyes went wide at Orillion’s rudeness. The commander downed another gulp of the Stellar Rum and gave the woman a glassy stare. “Face it, Juni,” he started, now more drunk than before, “No matter what you say, its not gonna change the fact that a lot of guys think you’re attractive.” He lowered his unfocused gaze onto her body and grinned. “…probably even more so underneath those clothes.”
For Juni, enough was enough. Orillion had just crossed the line and officially pissed her off. She no longer had any will to tolerate the drunken man or his lewd remarks. “That is too much!” she shouted, swiftly rising to her feet and almost knocking the table over in the process. “You are being a vulgar, insensitive ass!” She snatched the bottle away from Orillion and quickly made her way to the sink, and began to drain the bottle’s contents into the basin.
“Hey!” Orillion protested, not having risen from his seat, “That rum’s expensive, you know!” Ignoring the complaint, Juni finished pouring the alcohol into sink and threw the empty bottle into the trash chute.
“A vulgar, tactless, insensitive ass!” Juni loudly repeated, spinning on her heels and marched to the door, all the time Orillion watching speechlessly, a confused expression fixed upon his face.
Juni glared at Orillion. “Next time you’re depressed, why don’t you call me for help!” she exclaimed as she opened the door. “See if I give a damn!” With that Juni stormed out of the room, the door closing behind her.
*****
It had only been a few minutes since Juni had left to talk to Orillion, but Trent, knowing how his fiancée was, had become compelled enough to leave his room and join them. Trent knew that normally Juni could handle herself when she was troubled, but after thinking it out, he came to the conclusion that if Orillion, leader and backbone of the human resistance, was incapacitated, and the Invaders advanced into Omega-41… this might worry Juni like the situation with Ashcroft over two years ago, right before the war with the nomads. She had been really scared, and seeing her like that had made Trent feel sorry for her. And he had barely known Juni back then, at a time when he saw her as little more than an employer. Now they were engaged, and Trent cared deeply for Jun’ko. He definitely didn’t want to see her that upset again, so he decided to join her with Orillion to coax things along, if necessary.
Trent turned a corner and the door to Orillion’s quarters swung into view. But as he approached, the door suddenly opened, and Trent saw a very cross Juni standing in the doorway, looking back into the room.
“…see if I give a damn!” Trent heard her shout.
“Whoa,” Trent thought. “What happened here?”
With her head down in anger, Juni started to speedily march down the hall towards Trent, muttering something inconspicuous under her breath. It was a few seconds before she looked up, saw her fiancé, and came to a stop.
“Jun’ko, what happened in there?” Trent asked as he walked up to her.
Juni huffed and pointed a thumb back at Orillion’s door. “Let’s just say that Orillion makes a very raunchy drunk.”
“He drinks?” Trent asked, surprised.
“Apparently so.” Juni took hold of Trent’s arm and started to lead him back down the hall, wanting to put a good amount of distance between them and their inebriated commander.
“What did he do?” Trent asked, even though he already had a pretty good idea.
Juni stopped abruptly and glared at her companion. “What do you think he did?!” she retorted in an aggressive tone.
“Whoa, calm down,” Trent soothed. “I was just asking.”
Juni’s expression softened. “I’m sorry,” she sighed. “I didn’t mean for it to sound like that. I’m just a bit rattled by what he said back there… it was really creepy.”
“It’s alright,” Trent said reassuringly, “I bet it was a pretty uneasy situation.” He gently tugged his arm out of the woman’s grasp and slid it around her waist, coaxing her to his side as they resumed walking and disappeared down the hall, their footsteps fading into the distance.
Edited by - Steel_Fang on 8/1/2005 5:14:21 AM
Edited by - Steel_Fang on 8/1/2005 1:38:03 PM
Edited by - Steel_Fang on 8/1/2005 1:44:14 PM
Chapter 17
Omicron Theta system, 40 minutes later
The decimated remains of Freeport 9 spun slowly in the vacuum, orbited by clouds of debris, ranging in size from microscopic to as large as skiffs. Some pieces came from fighters, freighters and cargo vessels, but most were from the base itself, distinguishable by edges that had melted and solidified where Turmoil’s clusterbeam weapon had cut through.
An Invader landing craft passed through the debris, its front bay door wide open, catching whatever happened to fall into the opening. The dropship, roughly resembling a manta ray, was not intended to perform in such a way. However, it was a common compensation to use the dropship to salvage debris instead of launching numerous fighters to gather it, a process which was much more time-consuming. At any rate, the gathered materials would be analyzed, piece by piece, and hopefully recognized for any value to the Invader military. It was important to ‘know your enemy,’ and right now the Invaders were attempting to bring their knowledge of the humans up to date.
It had taken the Invaders completely by surprise when the Osiris had cloaked, and nobody in the Invader society knew exactly what had happened to it. As the news would leak out, many rumors would spring forth, the most accurate that was to develop would be that the human battleship could turn invisible. Technically this was true, but only to its literal extent. The most common rumor would be that the humans had developed some kind of teleportation system of their own. The most appalling rumor that would develop was that the theory that Osiris had been spared through divine intervention. “Total nonsense,” Invader military superiors would come to state flatly. “Our gods would never aid those who are united under the names of heathen demons.” Nevertheless, those caught spreading the rumor would pay dearly for their wild speculation, punished through various methods of torture and public humiliation.
The dropship, its large bay nearly full, made one last pass through the cloud of debris before returning to the Relentless and handing over its findings. With the bay now completely full, dropship sealed the door and activated its teleportation system. The ship, along with its cargo, scratched itself out of existence.
*****
The thick blanket of high-altitude dust, suspended miles over the underlying terrain, was penetrated by the orange glare of a pulsating red giant, the variable host star of the Invader homeworld. This fluctuating Mira-type star filled a quarter of the sky, illuminating the rugged planetary landscape with a pulsating glow that ranged from bright orange to a deep red hue. One such feature that can bee seen in the shifting light is a towering snow-capped mountain, known by the local inhabitants as ‘Messenger.’ Each day as the land is heated by the alien sun, the snowcap begins to melt, forming several streams of water that flow down to the base of the mountain and dump their contents into a nearby lake. However, one such stream, before entering the lake, winds through the Invader capital, splitting into smaller streams and entering various buildings on the perimeter. One of these buildings is the Master’s personal bathhouse.
Selestren-Kulam stood nearly waist deep in a pond of cool water with his powerful arms outstretched, feeling very relaxed. Wading around him, Selestren-Kulam was in the presence of five other beings who busied themselves scrubbing the leader clean. Although these beings were Invaders, they were not battle-hardened infantry of any kind. They were smaller than most soldiers, the largest only being six feet tall, still dwarfed by Selestren-Kulam’s eight foot stance. They were not near as muscular as most soldiers, and their hair was trimmed short and present upon the majority of their bodies – also unlike the soldiers. And what made these Invaders different from ANY soldier was the fact that they, by nature, had no crest. They were unlike any Invader seen on the battlefront, the reason being that these Invaders were of a different gender – they were female.
Selestren-Kulam eyed each one of the females as they continued to bathe him, giving him constant positive support on his leadership and looks, as well as promising him good sex and a strong son. And that was the exact reason why they were in the Master’s presence, here and now… Selestren-Kulam’s crest was changing with the seasons, and was starting to turn a vivid yellow. He would need a mate soon. Several weeks ago he had started his search for acceptable candidates, and had since narrowed his choices down to the five females that currently surrounded him. To humans, these alien women would have looked greatly unattractive, but through Invader eyes, Selestren-Kulam saw them all as stunningly beautiful, and practically everything that he could ask for in a mate; they were loyal, dedicated and submissive. But only one of them would be given the honor of being the mother to his offspring, including an heir to his position as leader of the Invader race.
The Invader society is one that is totally male-dominated. In this culture, the women have only one job: breeding. They would couple with a male, mate, and hopefully yield a healthy offspring. If the child was female, the mother would raise her on her own. If the child was male, at the age of two months he would be handed over to the military and raised as a soldier (very few Invader soldiers know who their fathers are, and have few memories of their mothers). Despite the fact that it is supposed to be a great honor, some Invader women are be very reluctant to give their sons to the military and can become emotionally scarred as a result. Some go into depression and deny themselves the ‘pleasure’ of mating, while some of the more emotionally upset females turn rogue and seek out alliances with those who feel the same (most Invader rebels are female, due to these circumstances). Many are captured and executed, but some manage to hide from their oppressors, unite, and make an attempt strike back.
This was not the case for the mate or offspring of Invader leaders. Upon acceptance, the female was pulled from the common breeding ritual and were allowed to attend their offspring under the attentive (and sometimes commanding) eye of the father. This is how the first and only Invader family in accepted society had been formed six generations ago, with Selestren-Kulam now at its peak… and wishing to secure the future of his bloodline.
Selsestren-Kulam suppressed a smile as one of the surrounding women ran a wet rag down his right arm, cleaning his long black hair, pleasing him as she gently squeezed the superbly defined muscles, her hand traveling all the way down to his fingers.
“You are very powerful and handsome, Master,” she said in a seductive tone. “I would be honored to give you a strong heir.” Selestren-Kulam grunted appreciatively. The other Invader women took note of his reaction and closed in on the Invader leader, each one clamoring for his attention.
“Master, your leadership skills surpass that of your father’s or his father’s.”
“Should you choose me as your mate, Master, I promise that I will make it more than worth your while.”
The bath was interrupted by a knock on the bathhouse door. Selestren-Kulam let his arms drop to his sides and motioned for the surrounding females to step out of the pond. Without hesitation, the females moved to the shoreline at the rear of the bathhouse.
Kulam stepped out of the pond. “Enter,” he stated in a loud voice.
The iron door swung open and an Invader capital guard, donned in a significant amount of armor, stepped through and knelt in salute. “Master,” he began in a humble manner, “one of your soldiers wishes to see you. He brings news from the battlefront.”
Selestren-Kulam turned to the women, all of whom had their eyes fixed upon him. “Leave,” Kulam stated flatly. The females looked disappointed, but they obediently knelt in salute and quietly walked single file out the door.
Kulam returned his attention to the capital guard. “Send him in.”
“Yes Master.” The guard rose and left, a few seconds later replaced by an unarmored soldier. The soldier saluted.
Kulam instantly recognized the soldier, but decided to make his identify himself anyways. “State your name, and position, soldier.”
The soldier gave an inaudible huff or irritation. “Master, you know me as Orad-Porel, captain of the battleship Relentless. I bring… disturbing news from the battlefront.”
Kulam frowned, already disliking this meeting. “Disturbing news? Tell me what you know.”
“Yes Master. The first thing is that the Relentless was apparently infiltrated by rebels who planted a bomb by the reactor. The Relentless is currently unable to teleport.”
“I already know that, soldier,” Kulam said, crossing his arms. “What else?”
It came as a surprise to Orad that Selsestren-Kulam already knew this fact; the captain was supposed to be the first give out the information. But Orad knew better than to question his Master’s sources and continued. “Master… the humans may have teleportation technology of their own.”
Kulam scowled and stepped closer to the soldier. “What??” he asked in an angry voice.
Orad-Porel managed to hold back his sudden nervousness. “It was a human battleship at the battle, Master. When the burner ships closed in, it disappeared.”
“Did you look for it?” Kulam demanded.
“Well… no, Master.”
Selestren-Kulam was greatly angered by what he heard. Orad had allowed the human battleship to escape! Kulam walked right up to the soldier, determined to give him something to remember his inaction by. He had finally been presented with a reason to punish the captain, something that he had wanted to do for a long time.
“Turn your head, soldier.” Kulam said casually. Orad nervously did as he was told.
Selestren-Kulam raised his right hand and swiped at Orad’s face, his claws tearing through flesh and penetrated down to the bone, forming two long jagged gashes across the soldiers face, starting just below the eye and streaking across the maw, ending at the chin. Before Orad could react, Kulam formed his other hand into a fist and drove it into the soldier’s stomach, bruising the underlying abdominal muscles. Orad-Porel exhaled explosively and doubled over, but was brought back up as the Invader leader planted a powerful right hook under Orad’s chin. The soldier flipped over backwards, stunned and unable to get up. Kulam kicked the defeated Invader for good measure.
Selsetren-Kulam stood over a frightened Orad, a look of disgust on his face. “I despise you, Orad-Porel,” he sneered. “I have held a great dislike for you for many years now. I personally wouldn’t mind if I had to replace you, so I suggest that you don’t make me see you as a liability, for your sake. Do you understand?” Wide-eyed, Orad nodded.
Kulam eyed the gashes upon the soldier’s face, yellow blood now pouring out of the wounds. “You will not treat those wounds in any way, soldier,” he said sternly. “You will not clean them; you will not stitch them. Are my orders clear?”
“Yes Master.” Orad managed to croak.
“Good,” Kulam said seriously. “Now make haste and return to the Relentless. Get out of my sight. NOW!” Orad wobbled to his feet and scrambled out the door.
*****
Many things had happened aboard the Osiris in the hour since the loss of Freeport 9. Lord Hakkera had left the ship and was attempting to sneak by the Invaders in Omicron Theta and talk to the Outcasts on Malta to speed up their decision on supplying aid. The Zoners and Corsairs in Omega-41 had been alerted to the Invader threat and were now in the process of deploying mines around the jumphole to Omicron Theta. And at long last, an exhausted colonel Kress had finally arrived from the Tau systems, and was now in the process getting some desperately needed sleep.
The hallways were quiet. Everybody either had somewhere to be or were in their quarters, mulling things over, worrying about friends, family, and what sort of affect the Invaders might have upon Sirius.
The silence was broken by the sound of footsteps as Jun’ko Zane walked swiftly towards Orillion’s private quarters, located at the end of the hall. She was worried about him. After the Order’s retreat, the commander had retreated to his room and refused to come out. Juni knew that he did this sometimes when he was stressed or worried, but never for this long.
Juni came to a halt in front of Orillion’s door and sharply rapped her knuckles upon it, then used the door-side keypad to open a communication link with the room. “Orillion?” she called into, hoping that he was there. “It’s colonel Zane. Do you mind if I come in? I want to talk to you.” Silence. Juni knocked on the door again. “Orillion, are you in there?” Still no response. Juni was about to walk away when a tired-sounding Orillion suddenly responded.
“Come in, Jun’ko,” he said slowly, almost lazily.
“Oh… he was sleeping,” Juni thought. This realization eased her worries greatly. Although her primary concern was null, Juni still wished to discuss some things with Orillion. She opened the door and entered.
Orillion’s quarters was similar to the standard crew quarters, albeit more luxurious. It twice as big as the others, and was furnished with a blue queen size bed, a refrigerator, various storage areas, a sink with an underlying garbage chute, and a small bathroom.
“I’m sorry sir,” Juni started apologetically as she stepped in. “I didn’t know you were slee…”
Juni’s words died in her throat when she saw Orillion. He was sitting at a small wooden table with two chairs. Orillion occupied the far seat, stooped forward, holding a large bottle that was three-fourths filled with a strange green fluid that was complemented with delicate wisps of purple. From her position, Juni could see that he commander’s were glazed. He hadn’t been sleeping. He was drunk.
Juni quickly closed the door and approached Orillion. “What are you doing?” she hissed.
Orillion stared at her. “Relaxing,” he responded in a tired, slurred voice, as if the answer was very obvious. He picked up the bottle and held it out to her. “Want some?”
Juni took the bottle and sniffed its contents, wincing as her nose was hit by the drink’s offensive odor. It was definitely alcoholic; it smelled MUCH stronger than the Liberty ale that she was used to, even more potent than the stuff that Trent sometimes drank.
“What is this stuff?” Juni asked her intoxicated commander.
Orillion suppressed a hiccup. “Stellar Rum,” he finally said. “It’s really good.” He smiled at Juni and motioned to the other seat across at the table. “Sit down.”
Against her better judgment, Juni, still holding the drink, heeded her superior’s request and slid into the chair. Orillion smiled and moved to retrieve the bottle, but Juni pulled it out of his reach. The commander looked at the colonel with a why-are-you-doing-this-to-me expression on his face. Juni sighed and rolled her eyes, ignoring the man’s lackluster attempt to guilt her into returning the rum. She was hoping that Orillion, in his altered state of mind, wasn’t going to do anything stupid.
Juni looked at the drink, then at Orillion. “Orillion, why are you drinking this stuff?”
Orillion sat up, swaying slightly, giving Juni a blank stare. “I told you,” he said, his words slurred together, “I’m relaxing.”
Juni could smell the alcohol on Orillion’s breath, and was already becoming aggravated by his nonsensical answers. “With something as strong as this?!” she remarked, showing him the bottle. Orillion made another grab for the bottle, but again the colonel pulled it away. “Why?” Juni asked again.
Orillion’s expression remained blank. “I like to relax,” he said, his words blending into each other.
Juni huffed in aggravation and looked down at the table. “What am I going to do with you, Orillion?” the thought to herself. “What am I going to do?”
“You’re very pretty.”
Juni quickly pulled her head up and looked up at her commander, a bewildered look on her face. “What?”
Orillion looked a Juni, a stupid smile forming across his lips. “I said you’re very beautiful.”
Juni was taken aback by Orillion’s remark. “Please, Orillion, stop. You know I’m already spoken for.”
“No really,” Orillion insisted, speaking clearly enough to be understood, “You have great legs, a pretty face, and a magnificent bosom…” he made an impressed whistle, or at least tried. “…you are a good-looking woman.”
Orillion’s remark put Juni very on-edge. Sure, she was used to men approaching her in such a manner, but that was only in the bar. She could tolerate it coming from someone she didn’t know, but coming from Orillion, not to mention the way he said it… to plainly put it, it was very creepy. Juni had a decent amount of sence telling her to leave, but she decided to stay, if only out of the respect she held for her commander.
Juni leaned forward, a stern look in her face. “Don’t do that,” she said in a serious voice. “I don’t like it.”
Orillion made another attempt to retrieve the rum, this time succeeding in pulling it from Juni’s grasp. “Well, la-di-dah,” the man retorted, taking a swig from the bottle. “I complement you and you b*tch about it.” Juni’s eyes went wide at Orillion’s rudeness. The commander downed another gulp of the Stellar Rum and gave the woman a glassy stare. “Face it, Juni,” he started, now more drunk than before, “No matter what you say, its not gonna change the fact that a lot of guys think you’re attractive.” He lowered his unfocused gaze onto her body and grinned. “…probably even more so underneath those clothes.”
For Juni, enough was enough. Orillion had just crossed the line and officially pissed her off. She no longer had any will to tolerate the drunken man or his lewd remarks. “That is too much!” she shouted, swiftly rising to her feet and almost knocking the table over in the process. “You are being a vulgar, insensitive ass!” She snatched the bottle away from Orillion and quickly made her way to the sink, and began to drain the bottle’s contents into the basin.
“Hey!” Orillion protested, not having risen from his seat, “That rum’s expensive, you know!” Ignoring the complaint, Juni finished pouring the alcohol into sink and threw the empty bottle into the trash chute.
“A vulgar, tactless, insensitive ass!” Juni loudly repeated, spinning on her heels and marched to the door, all the time Orillion watching speechlessly, a confused expression fixed upon his face.
Juni glared at Orillion. “Next time you’re depressed, why don’t you call me for help!” she exclaimed as she opened the door. “See if I give a damn!” With that Juni stormed out of the room, the door closing behind her.
*****
It had only been a few minutes since Juni had left to talk to Orillion, but Trent, knowing how his fiancée was, had become compelled enough to leave his room and join them. Trent knew that normally Juni could handle herself when she was troubled, but after thinking it out, he came to the conclusion that if Orillion, leader and backbone of the human resistance, was incapacitated, and the Invaders advanced into Omega-41… this might worry Juni like the situation with Ashcroft over two years ago, right before the war with the nomads. She had been really scared, and seeing her like that had made Trent feel sorry for her. And he had barely known Juni back then, at a time when he saw her as little more than an employer. Now they were engaged, and Trent cared deeply for Jun’ko. He definitely didn’t want to see her that upset again, so he decided to join her with Orillion to coax things along, if necessary.
Trent turned a corner and the door to Orillion’s quarters swung into view. But as he approached, the door suddenly opened, and Trent saw a very cross Juni standing in the doorway, looking back into the room.
“…see if I give a damn!” Trent heard her shout.
“Whoa,” Trent thought. “What happened here?”
With her head down in anger, Juni started to speedily march down the hall towards Trent, muttering something inconspicuous under her breath. It was a few seconds before she looked up, saw her fiancé, and came to a stop.
“Jun’ko, what happened in there?” Trent asked as he walked up to her.
Juni huffed and pointed a thumb back at Orillion’s door. “Let’s just say that Orillion makes a very raunchy drunk.”
“He drinks?” Trent asked, surprised.
“Apparently so.” Juni took hold of Trent’s arm and started to lead him back down the hall, wanting to put a good amount of distance between them and their inebriated commander.
“What did he do?” Trent asked, even though he already had a pretty good idea.
Juni stopped abruptly and glared at her companion. “What do you think he did?!” she retorted in an aggressive tone.
“Whoa, calm down,” Trent soothed. “I was just asking.”
Juni’s expression softened. “I’m sorry,” she sighed. “I didn’t mean for it to sound like that. I’m just a bit rattled by what he said back there… it was really creepy.”
“It’s alright,” Trent said reassuringly, “I bet it was a pretty uneasy situation.” He gently tugged his arm out of the woman’s grasp and slid it around her waist, coaxing her to his side as they resumed walking and disappeared down the hall, their footsteps fading into the distance.
Edited by - Steel_Fang on 8/1/2005 5:14:21 AM
Edited by - Steel_Fang on 8/1/2005 1:38:03 PM
Edited by - Steel_Fang on 8/1/2005 1:44:14 PM
Mon Aug 01, 2005 12:34 pm
wow very nicely written, but one thing that caught my attention
the bold sentence doesnt sound right, sure the first "this" is just a typo instead of "as"
other than that, GREAT story
Juni could smell the alcohol on Orillion’s breath, and was already becoming aggravated by his nonsensical answers. “With something this strong as this?! ” she remarked, showing him the bottle. Orillion made another grab for the bottle, but again the colonel pulled it away. “Why?” Juni asked again.
the bold sentence doesnt sound right, sure the first "this" is just a typo instead of "as"
other than that, GREAT story
Mon Aug 08, 2005 6:30 am
Ugh, I didn't like writing this chapter. Anyways, here it is. Feel free to reply, I like replies. Mmmm.... replies
Chapter 18
Battleship Relentless, Omicron Minor system. 4 days later
The gathered debris from the remains of Freeport 9 was piled up against the wall of an unadorned storage chamber that lay deep inside the Invader battleship Relentless. While normally a very quiet room, it was currently filled with noise and activity as several Invader soldiers rooted through the metal, picking up and analyzing anything that they found interesting. If the soldier came to believe that object held some potential importance, it was placed in a large bin. If not, it was deposited into a trash pile at the back of the room.
Unasht-Nevtul-Muun gave a grunt of dissatisfaction as he inspected yet another nameless piece of junk before turning around and tossing it into the ever growing waste pile. He did not want to be here, sorting through human trash. He had no idea what he was supposed to be looking for. The soldier didn’t even know why he was here. All Unasht knew was that he had been assigned to do this job right after his commander, Orad-Porel, returned after meeting Selestren-Kulam at the Invader capital.
Although Unasht was angry towards his superior, He was humbled by just how close Orad must have been to the great leader; imagine meeting the Master face to face! Unasht made a mental note to double his efforts. Perhaps someday he would become important enough to be allowed in the presence of Master Selestren-Kulam.
As he picked up another piece of foreign metal, Unasht heard a distant rumble and smiled as he realized what it was. Finally, after four days, the Relentless’ mechanics had finished repairing the main reactor and were now attempting to ignite it. Once operating, the battleship would be ready for battle. Orad-Porel would no doubt be pleased.
Unasht’s smile faded slightly as he heard the reactor wind down and fall silent. The device hadn’t started up. Fortunately, this didn’t really mean anything. It was not uncommon for an Invader battleship reactor to fail the first few ignition attempts. The mechanics would more than likely take a few minutes to reset the power plant’s physical systems and try again.
Reverting back to the task at hand Unasht glanced at the object that lay in the palm of his large hand. Now THIS was interesting. The object he held was an unpainted metal box. Rotating the device, the soldier saw that the box was a 3’x3’x3’ cube, perfect in its shape, save for a small cylindrical inset at the top and a tiny electrical port located near the bottom. “What is it?” Unasht wondered. Performing a closer inspection, the soldier noticed that the inset at the top had several tiny seams – it could be opened. The Invader placed the tip of his clawed thumb upon the inset, and with a little effort, he broke it open. The soldier smiled. Perhaps, he hoped, whatever lay inside the box could reveal a great deal about the humans and their technology. But as he turned the box upside down, Unasht was surprised to find that the device was filled with what looked to be very fine silver sand. The Invader watched as beads poured out of the box and scattered across the floor. Unasht-Nevtul-Muun grunted as his hopes were thrashed. The box was useless. Its contents were useless. The disappointed soldier swept the beads away, threw the empty cube into the waste pile, and began to search some more.
*****
Today had been an overall good day for Orillion. After talking to Barbara Jacobi, the president of Liberty had once again shown her support of the Order and delivered a large care package containing various necessities, including food, water, and a variety of medicines. Lord Hakkera had safely made it to Malta and had just called to inform the Order that the Outcasts had finally agreed to help. Thanks to the effects of the cardamine, the Outcasts were extremely wise and knowledgeable, and capable of building advanced ships and weaponry. Orillion hoped that this would give the Order a leg up in the fight against the Invaders.
But there was one thing that was still bothering Orillion – After the destruction of Freeport 9, he had retreated to his cabin to calm himself down. There he had tried a new brand of alcohol, drastically underestimated its effects, and got totally wasted. It was during that time that colonel Zane had dropped by to talk. Orillion didn’t really remember what had happened, but apparently he really upset the young woman - so much that she had been avoiding him ever since the incident. He needed to apologize. That’s why Orillion had talked to Trent and arranged to meet him and Jun’ko in their quarters at an arranged time.
The sound of Orillion’s determined footfalls echoed slightly as the Order commander walked down the residence hall and stopped by a certain door. He glanced at his watch and saw the luminous red numbers blink 8:30 standard time – the time that he had agreed to meet the two colonels in their room. Orillion cleared his mind, slowly lifted up his hand and knocked on the door. Hopefully Juni would be in a listening mood.
*****
When you stepped inside, it was easy to see that this personnel room was more cluttered than most. But that was because it was occupied by two people, both present. The first, sitting at a small table, was a bretonian native in his late twenties with blond hair, blue eyes, and a somewhat rugged appearance. The second, sitting on the bed across the room, was a woman in her mid-twenties with black hair and facial features that portrayed a mix of Kusari and Libertarian traits.
Edison Trent looked across the room at his fiancée, who upon noticing his gaze, merely huffed and crossed her arms. Juni was not happy that Trent wouldn’t let her leave the room, even less so when he told her why.
“I don’t want to do this,” she stated bluntly, loud enough for Trent to hear.
“I know you don’t, Jun’ko,” Trent told her. “But I talked to Orillion and we both agreed that you two need to talk.”
Juni huffed again, this time crossing her legs. “He can talk, but don’t expect me to listen.”
“Look, will you just do this please?” Trent pleaded.
The sound of someone knocking on the door caught the pair’s attention. “Colonel Trent? Colonel Zane?” Orillion’s voice came through the cabin’s intercom. “Do you mind if I come in?”
Trent looked at Juni. “Please, Jun’ko. Don’t be selfish like this. Just hear him out so we can put this whole thing behind us.”
Juni collected her thoughts, outwardly apparent as she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “Fine,” she said, opening her eyes.
Trent smiled in appreciation and turned to the door. “Come on in, Orillion.”
The door slid open and Casper Orillion stepped through. He gave the colonels a respective nod. Trent returned the gesture, whilst Juni only gave him a stern look. “So this is how it’s going to be,” Orillion thought. He approached the table and upon receiving a permissive gesture from Trent, the commander pulled out the empty chair and promptly sat down. Immediately he turned to face Juni.
“Colonel Zane,” he started, “I want to apologize for what happened the other day.”
*****
To most, mister Blix was mute. The man had no voice, totally silent. However, this was not the case when he was contacting beings of a higher realm through the use of a very special Dom Kavash artifact. During this time his body became the physical channel from where hundreds of voices could be heard, all of them speaking simultaneously. The speakers were always the same and spoke in a tongue that only mister Blix understood; nobody else could.
Despite being mute, Blix, with the help of the artifact, could establish a psychic link with another person and convey what he had heard. The person that mister Blix most commonly told was a Rheinlander named Jonner, his trusted colleague.
Jonner sat nearby as mister Blix activated the hemispherical artifact and opened his mouth, letting forth the sound of a hundred voices. The voices cried out for several seconds, saying what they had to say, and then falling silent.
Blix closed his mouth and looked at Jonner with an intrigued look. “There is a new voice among them,” he conveyed to Jonner.
“That is odd,” Jonner conveyed back. “What did it say?”
“It is most interesting,” Blix telepathically replied.
“Darkness emerges from the void,
Fingers creeping towards the goal.
Shining faces have been obscured
And razors played across my home.
Many try, many fail,
Trouble persists.
It awakens, it ponders,
The white light, and it has spoken.”
*****
“…as a matter of fact,” Orillion added after Juni had calmed down, “why don’t you two go home for a while?”
“What?” asked a bewildered Trent.
“I have no idea why I’m doing this,” Orillion thought. “You two deserve a rest.” He said. “With the support of the Outcasts, Corsairs and Zoners, I think that I can afford to set you loose for a while.”
Trent and Juni stared at Orillion in disbelief. Why was he doing this? He needed every pilot he could get his hands on.
Juni spoke up. “Orillion, you need us here.”
“I insist,” Orillion said. “You two have put your necks on the line many times for me. It’s time you’re actions were rewarded.”
“Are you sure?”
“One hundred percent. And I’m not going to budge from my decision.” Orillion still didn’t know why he was sending two of his best pilots away.
The two colonels looked at each other. Trent saw that even though Juni didn’t necessarily agree with the decision, she did want to go home, at least for a while. Trent was neutral on the situation.
“Alright,” Juni finally said. “We’ll go. Just contact us if you need help.” Trent made no objection.
Orillion put on a friendly smile. “Good. Do you need an escort?”
“Nah,” Trent responded. “I know how to get to Liberty from here.” Juni shot him a quizzical look. “Well I do,” Trent said, shrugging.
“Alright,” Orillion interrupted, “I will leave you two alone now. Safe journey.” Orillion got up to leave.
“Oh, Orillion,” Juni called after him. “Thanks for apologizing..”
*****
Unasht-Nevtul-Muun listened intently as sound of the main reactor winding up, this time ending in a muffled explosion. Unasht smiled. Good! The reactor had completed a cycle and was now operational! The Relentless was once again to take the fight to the enemy.
Almost immediately afterward another Invader, searching the scrap, called out.
“Look at this!” Curious, the other Invaders, including Unasht, crowded around to see what had been found.
As Unasht peered over the crowd, he saw what everyone was looking at. There, slowly rotating in the air, a hologram of a group of clouds, each one a different color. Nestled in between these clouds were pinpricks of light, each one representing a star.
It was a map of Sirius.
Edited by - Steel_Fang on 9/7/2005 9:13:31 PM
Chapter 18
Battleship Relentless, Omicron Minor system. 4 days later
The gathered debris from the remains of Freeport 9 was piled up against the wall of an unadorned storage chamber that lay deep inside the Invader battleship Relentless. While normally a very quiet room, it was currently filled with noise and activity as several Invader soldiers rooted through the metal, picking up and analyzing anything that they found interesting. If the soldier came to believe that object held some potential importance, it was placed in a large bin. If not, it was deposited into a trash pile at the back of the room.
Unasht-Nevtul-Muun gave a grunt of dissatisfaction as he inspected yet another nameless piece of junk before turning around and tossing it into the ever growing waste pile. He did not want to be here, sorting through human trash. He had no idea what he was supposed to be looking for. The soldier didn’t even know why he was here. All Unasht knew was that he had been assigned to do this job right after his commander, Orad-Porel, returned after meeting Selestren-Kulam at the Invader capital.
Although Unasht was angry towards his superior, He was humbled by just how close Orad must have been to the great leader; imagine meeting the Master face to face! Unasht made a mental note to double his efforts. Perhaps someday he would become important enough to be allowed in the presence of Master Selestren-Kulam.
As he picked up another piece of foreign metal, Unasht heard a distant rumble and smiled as he realized what it was. Finally, after four days, the Relentless’ mechanics had finished repairing the main reactor and were now attempting to ignite it. Once operating, the battleship would be ready for battle. Orad-Porel would no doubt be pleased.
Unasht’s smile faded slightly as he heard the reactor wind down and fall silent. The device hadn’t started up. Fortunately, this didn’t really mean anything. It was not uncommon for an Invader battleship reactor to fail the first few ignition attempts. The mechanics would more than likely take a few minutes to reset the power plant’s physical systems and try again.
Reverting back to the task at hand Unasht glanced at the object that lay in the palm of his large hand. Now THIS was interesting. The object he held was an unpainted metal box. Rotating the device, the soldier saw that the box was a 3’x3’x3’ cube, perfect in its shape, save for a small cylindrical inset at the top and a tiny electrical port located near the bottom. “What is it?” Unasht wondered. Performing a closer inspection, the soldier noticed that the inset at the top had several tiny seams – it could be opened. The Invader placed the tip of his clawed thumb upon the inset, and with a little effort, he broke it open. The soldier smiled. Perhaps, he hoped, whatever lay inside the box could reveal a great deal about the humans and their technology. But as he turned the box upside down, Unasht was surprised to find that the device was filled with what looked to be very fine silver sand. The Invader watched as beads poured out of the box and scattered across the floor. Unasht-Nevtul-Muun grunted as his hopes were thrashed. The box was useless. Its contents were useless. The disappointed soldier swept the beads away, threw the empty cube into the waste pile, and began to search some more.
*****
Today had been an overall good day for Orillion. After talking to Barbara Jacobi, the president of Liberty had once again shown her support of the Order and delivered a large care package containing various necessities, including food, water, and a variety of medicines. Lord Hakkera had safely made it to Malta and had just called to inform the Order that the Outcasts had finally agreed to help. Thanks to the effects of the cardamine, the Outcasts were extremely wise and knowledgeable, and capable of building advanced ships and weaponry. Orillion hoped that this would give the Order a leg up in the fight against the Invaders.
But there was one thing that was still bothering Orillion – After the destruction of Freeport 9, he had retreated to his cabin to calm himself down. There he had tried a new brand of alcohol, drastically underestimated its effects, and got totally wasted. It was during that time that colonel Zane had dropped by to talk. Orillion didn’t really remember what had happened, but apparently he really upset the young woman - so much that she had been avoiding him ever since the incident. He needed to apologize. That’s why Orillion had talked to Trent and arranged to meet him and Jun’ko in their quarters at an arranged time.
The sound of Orillion’s determined footfalls echoed slightly as the Order commander walked down the residence hall and stopped by a certain door. He glanced at his watch and saw the luminous red numbers blink 8:30 standard time – the time that he had agreed to meet the two colonels in their room. Orillion cleared his mind, slowly lifted up his hand and knocked on the door. Hopefully Juni would be in a listening mood.
*****
When you stepped inside, it was easy to see that this personnel room was more cluttered than most. But that was because it was occupied by two people, both present. The first, sitting at a small table, was a bretonian native in his late twenties with blond hair, blue eyes, and a somewhat rugged appearance. The second, sitting on the bed across the room, was a woman in her mid-twenties with black hair and facial features that portrayed a mix of Kusari and Libertarian traits.
Edison Trent looked across the room at his fiancée, who upon noticing his gaze, merely huffed and crossed her arms. Juni was not happy that Trent wouldn’t let her leave the room, even less so when he told her why.
“I don’t want to do this,” she stated bluntly, loud enough for Trent to hear.
“I know you don’t, Jun’ko,” Trent told her. “But I talked to Orillion and we both agreed that you two need to talk.”
Juni huffed again, this time crossing her legs. “He can talk, but don’t expect me to listen.”
“Look, will you just do this please?” Trent pleaded.
The sound of someone knocking on the door caught the pair’s attention. “Colonel Trent? Colonel Zane?” Orillion’s voice came through the cabin’s intercom. “Do you mind if I come in?”
Trent looked at Juni. “Please, Jun’ko. Don’t be selfish like this. Just hear him out so we can put this whole thing behind us.”
Juni collected her thoughts, outwardly apparent as she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “Fine,” she said, opening her eyes.
Trent smiled in appreciation and turned to the door. “Come on in, Orillion.”
The door slid open and Casper Orillion stepped through. He gave the colonels a respective nod. Trent returned the gesture, whilst Juni only gave him a stern look. “So this is how it’s going to be,” Orillion thought. He approached the table and upon receiving a permissive gesture from Trent, the commander pulled out the empty chair and promptly sat down. Immediately he turned to face Juni.
“Colonel Zane,” he started, “I want to apologize for what happened the other day.”
*****
To most, mister Blix was mute. The man had no voice, totally silent. However, this was not the case when he was contacting beings of a higher realm through the use of a very special Dom Kavash artifact. During this time his body became the physical channel from where hundreds of voices could be heard, all of them speaking simultaneously. The speakers were always the same and spoke in a tongue that only mister Blix understood; nobody else could.
Despite being mute, Blix, with the help of the artifact, could establish a psychic link with another person and convey what he had heard. The person that mister Blix most commonly told was a Rheinlander named Jonner, his trusted colleague.
Jonner sat nearby as mister Blix activated the hemispherical artifact and opened his mouth, letting forth the sound of a hundred voices. The voices cried out for several seconds, saying what they had to say, and then falling silent.
Blix closed his mouth and looked at Jonner with an intrigued look. “There is a new voice among them,” he conveyed to Jonner.
“That is odd,” Jonner conveyed back. “What did it say?”
“It is most interesting,” Blix telepathically replied.
“Darkness emerges from the void,
Fingers creeping towards the goal.
Shining faces have been obscured
And razors played across my home.
Many try, many fail,
Trouble persists.
It awakens, it ponders,
The white light, and it has spoken.”
*****
“…as a matter of fact,” Orillion added after Juni had calmed down, “why don’t you two go home for a while?”
“What?” asked a bewildered Trent.
“I have no idea why I’m doing this,” Orillion thought. “You two deserve a rest.” He said. “With the support of the Outcasts, Corsairs and Zoners, I think that I can afford to set you loose for a while.”
Trent and Juni stared at Orillion in disbelief. Why was he doing this? He needed every pilot he could get his hands on.
Juni spoke up. “Orillion, you need us here.”
“I insist,” Orillion said. “You two have put your necks on the line many times for me. It’s time you’re actions were rewarded.”
“Are you sure?”
“One hundred percent. And I’m not going to budge from my decision.” Orillion still didn’t know why he was sending two of his best pilots away.
The two colonels looked at each other. Trent saw that even though Juni didn’t necessarily agree with the decision, she did want to go home, at least for a while. Trent was neutral on the situation.
“Alright,” Juni finally said. “We’ll go. Just contact us if you need help.” Trent made no objection.
Orillion put on a friendly smile. “Good. Do you need an escort?”
“Nah,” Trent responded. “I know how to get to Liberty from here.” Juni shot him a quizzical look. “Well I do,” Trent said, shrugging.
“Alright,” Orillion interrupted, “I will leave you two alone now. Safe journey.” Orillion got up to leave.
“Oh, Orillion,” Juni called after him. “Thanks for apologizing..”
*****
Unasht-Nevtul-Muun listened intently as sound of the main reactor winding up, this time ending in a muffled explosion. Unasht smiled. Good! The reactor had completed a cycle and was now operational! The Relentless was once again to take the fight to the enemy.
Almost immediately afterward another Invader, searching the scrap, called out.
“Look at this!” Curious, the other Invaders, including Unasht, crowded around to see what had been found.
As Unasht peered over the crowd, he saw what everyone was looking at. There, slowly rotating in the air, a hologram of a group of clouds, each one a different color. Nestled in between these clouds were pinpricks of light, each one representing a star.
It was a map of Sirius.
Edited by - Steel_Fang on 9/7/2005 9:13:31 PM
Tue Aug 09, 2005 11:41 am
Author's Note:
To all of my readers out there, I thank you for taking the time to read my story.
Some notes: In the past I have updated with a new chapter every week. Unfortunately, college is just around the corner. Although I have every intention to finish this story, there is a good chance that after next week, I will probably not have the time to continue the weekly updates
I just wanted to apologize in advance for the inconvenience.
To all of my readers out there, I thank you for taking the time to read my story.
Some notes: In the past I have updated with a new chapter every week. Unfortunately, college is just around the corner. Although I have every intention to finish this story, there is a good chance that after next week, I will probably not have the time to continue the weekly updates
I just wanted to apologize in advance for the inconvenience. Mon Aug 15, 2005 8:10 am
Everybody come quick! Cartoons are on! Oh wait, its a rerun. Oh, well, lets just read this instead.
Chapter 19
Battleship Relentless, Omicron Theta system. 5 hours later
Orad-Porel tapped a toe claw impatiently on the deck plates as he anxiously awaited the signal to engage the battleship’s teleportation system. He was ready – no, he was MORE than ready. More than ready to feel the thrill of battle again, more than ready to take the fight to the enemy, more than ready to conquer the inhabitants of Sirius. The problem, however, was that the other warships were not ready.
The map had revealed a great amount of information on the human-held systems. Now, under the orders of Master Selestren-Kulam, the Invader battleship fleet planned to attack strategically important human systems all at once, greatly crippling the enemy before they had a chance to react. Orad liked the plan; it required courage and bravery from the Invaders, and would most likely put them in the middle of a large battle. Orad preferred no lesser fight.
As Orad moved behind his command pedestal/teleprter controls, he mentally reviewed the systems which would be attacked first. The battleship Retribution would be attacking the system dubbed BG-1-4, which lay just outside the orange cloud. The battleship Foreboding would seize the system labeled as BGr-3-4, right next to the blue nebula. The Relentless’ sister ship, the Grudge, would attack the system labeled W-2-3, beyond the ice cloud. As for the Relentless… Orad planned to place her in the system that stood dead center in the middle of the map.
*****
The midmorning sun found its way through the thick haze and dimly illuminated the rugged landscape of the Invader homeworld.
The news of the find of a detailed human map had put Selestren-Kulam in an unusually good mood. Such a good mood, in fact, that for the first time in many years, Kulam left the protective walls of the capital and headed solo into the surrounding woods to hunt for food. He did not bring any weapons with him; by custom, Invaders rarely hunted with anything more than bare hands and instinct - it was a show of strength.
Selestren-Kulam, for one of his size, crept quietly between the thick trees and sniffed at the air in the hopes of catching the scent of nearby prey. No luck so far. Nothing had passed here in a few hours.
After meandering for a while, Kulam dropped to all fours and brought his nose to the dirt, trying to find a trail he could follow. There. Among the smells of plants, soil and rotting leaves, Kulam’s keen senses detected the scent of a decent sized quadruped called a mapulk.
“Good,” Kulam thought. “Their meat is flavorful, and they could put up quite a fight with their heavy spiked tail. I’m going to enjoy this.” Kulam rose and quickly began the pursuit.
A few minutes later, Selsetren-Kulam could smell that the mapulk very close by. He picked up the pace, following the trail into a small clearing. There, a mere thirty feet away, was the Mapulk. Grinning, Kulan stepped closer.
But something was seriously wrong with the animal. As Kulam neared the Mapulk, he saw that it was lying on its side, shaking uncontrollably. As the animal convulsed, Kulam got a glimpse of its beak-like mouth filling with foam as it gurgled in agony. The Mapulk’s spiked tail, once a powerful weapon, now flopped around aimlessly and repeatedly smashed into the ground.
A loud hiss caught the Invader leader’s attention. Looking down, his eyes fell upon a small grey lizard with a large bright blue frill. Kulam instantly became wary of the lizard as he realized what it was.
The lizard hissed again and presented two large fangs in the direction of the interfering Invader, causing Kulam to take a step back. The frilled reptile, not even reaching a foot in length, deserved a great amount of respect. It was a territorial creature, and a very dangerous one at that: the lizard’s fangs carried an extremely powerful neurotoxin that would cause an unfortunate victim to go into seizures and perish a few minutes later. (This is what had happened to the mapulk – it had accidentally stumbled onto the lizard’s burrow)
“So much for that meal,” Kulam whispered as the mapulk’s convulsions started to slow. The lizard faked a charge at the Invader and halted, hissing and fluttering its frill in warning. Kulam growled as if to scare off the lizard, but still the Invader cautiously backed away.
*****
Michael King stepped onto the bridge of the Osiris and made a beeline for Orillion. It wasn’t that he had important news, though; he just wanted to ask the man a question.
“Orillion sir, have you seen Trent or Juni lately?” King asked the Order leader.
Orillion turned and gave King a slightly quizzical glance. “I sent them home five hours ago,” he answered. “Didn’t they tell you?”
“What? Oh…yeah they did. But why’d you let them go? I think you should have let them stay.”
Orillion hesitated. “Well… to tell you the truth, I don’t really know. Something inside my head just told me it would be for the best.”
King gave the Order leader a concerned look. “That’s not like you.”
“I know,” Orillion sighed. “It’s just that it felt like it would pay off somehow.”
The following uneasy silence was broken when the bridge doors slid open and Sinclair stepped onto the bridge.
Sinclair approached Orillion. “Commander Orillion, sir…” Sinclair stopped when she saw King.
“Kendra,” King said, giving her a weak smile.
“King,” Sinclair responded coldly, crossing her arms. “I didn’t know that you were here.”
“Been here for a few days. What’ve you been up to?”
“Translating,” Sinclair said flatly. “Speaking of which…” Sinclair brushed past King and approached her commander. “Orillion, sir, I am glad to report that we have finally shed some light on the Invaders.”
Now THAT was good news. “Congratulations, doctor!” Orillion cracked a large grin. “What have you discovered?”
Sinclair smiled. “We have uncovered their origins and parts of their dialect.”
“Did you get that from the translating their communications?”
Sinclair shook her head. “No, sir. We actually got it from one of our archived Dom Kavash tablets. Apparently they knew about the Invaders.”
“The tablets??”
Again, Sinclair nodded. “Correct. I realized that some of the pronunciations in the recording were similar to those that were on a very unusual tablet that I had studied a while back. Quintaine and I went and found the tablet, analyzed it, and discovered that it is what we believe to be a brief recording of several Invader languages.”
Orillion was curious about how the Dom Kavash came across such knowledge. “You said that you also found out where the Invaders came from. Just where is it?”
“We have put the coordinates from the tablet into the computer and factored in stellar drift, sir. If we’re right, the Invader’s homesystem lies within a well-aged irregular dwarf galaxy known as G-32.”
Orillion rubbed his bald head. “I have never heard of that galaxy before.”
“Not many people have. The majority of the galaxy lies within an enormous cloud of dark matter. The only way we actually know that it’s there is because we’ve detected the faint traces of radiation that the stars in the galaxy are giving off. G-32 is over 185,000 light years away from Sirius… The Invaders have traveled a long distance to fight.”
*****
Orad’s control panel blared and a ninety second countdown appeared upon the pedestal’s screen. The battleships were now synched and ready to attack.
“At last,” Orad thought. “The humans shall feel our wrath. They will see what a truly battle worthy ship can do!”
“Armorment!” Orad shouted. “Prepare the weapons! Engines, prepare to ignite!” As the countdown ticked past thirty seconds, Orad did something he had never done before; he went into a pre-battle speech.
“Today, soldiers, will be a day that we will experience a war, one that such has not been seen in fifty-three years, since the climax of the Great Unification! It is because of that epic war that has made us who we are today. Now let us see to it that this war carries that trait! Let the humans cower in fear in the shadow of our might! Let the rising sun shine down upon a new order, in a new home! We shall fight! We shall win! We shall be victorious and rule over all!”
With ten seconds to go, Orad-Porel secured a grip on the teleportation system’s engaging switch. At five seconds, his long face pulled itself into a cruel smile.
Four…
Three…
Two…
One…
Zero.
Orad eagerly pulled the lever and engaged the system.
Chapter 19
Battleship Relentless, Omicron Theta system. 5 hours later
Orad-Porel tapped a toe claw impatiently on the deck plates as he anxiously awaited the signal to engage the battleship’s teleportation system. He was ready – no, he was MORE than ready. More than ready to feel the thrill of battle again, more than ready to take the fight to the enemy, more than ready to conquer the inhabitants of Sirius. The problem, however, was that the other warships were not ready.
The map had revealed a great amount of information on the human-held systems. Now, under the orders of Master Selestren-Kulam, the Invader battleship fleet planned to attack strategically important human systems all at once, greatly crippling the enemy before they had a chance to react. Orad liked the plan; it required courage and bravery from the Invaders, and would most likely put them in the middle of a large battle. Orad preferred no lesser fight.
As Orad moved behind his command pedestal/teleprter controls, he mentally reviewed the systems which would be attacked first. The battleship Retribution would be attacking the system dubbed BG-1-4, which lay just outside the orange cloud. The battleship Foreboding would seize the system labeled as BGr-3-4, right next to the blue nebula. The Relentless’ sister ship, the Grudge, would attack the system labeled W-2-3, beyond the ice cloud. As for the Relentless… Orad planned to place her in the system that stood dead center in the middle of the map.
*****
The midmorning sun found its way through the thick haze and dimly illuminated the rugged landscape of the Invader homeworld.
The news of the find of a detailed human map had put Selestren-Kulam in an unusually good mood. Such a good mood, in fact, that for the first time in many years, Kulam left the protective walls of the capital and headed solo into the surrounding woods to hunt for food. He did not bring any weapons with him; by custom, Invaders rarely hunted with anything more than bare hands and instinct - it was a show of strength.
Selestren-Kulam, for one of his size, crept quietly between the thick trees and sniffed at the air in the hopes of catching the scent of nearby prey. No luck so far. Nothing had passed here in a few hours.
After meandering for a while, Kulam dropped to all fours and brought his nose to the dirt, trying to find a trail he could follow. There. Among the smells of plants, soil and rotting leaves, Kulam’s keen senses detected the scent of a decent sized quadruped called a mapulk.
“Good,” Kulam thought. “Their meat is flavorful, and they could put up quite a fight with their heavy spiked tail. I’m going to enjoy this.” Kulam rose and quickly began the pursuit.
A few minutes later, Selsetren-Kulam could smell that the mapulk very close by. He picked up the pace, following the trail into a small clearing. There, a mere thirty feet away, was the Mapulk. Grinning, Kulan stepped closer.
But something was seriously wrong with the animal. As Kulam neared the Mapulk, he saw that it was lying on its side, shaking uncontrollably. As the animal convulsed, Kulam got a glimpse of its beak-like mouth filling with foam as it gurgled in agony. The Mapulk’s spiked tail, once a powerful weapon, now flopped around aimlessly and repeatedly smashed into the ground.
A loud hiss caught the Invader leader’s attention. Looking down, his eyes fell upon a small grey lizard with a large bright blue frill. Kulam instantly became wary of the lizard as he realized what it was.
The lizard hissed again and presented two large fangs in the direction of the interfering Invader, causing Kulam to take a step back. The frilled reptile, not even reaching a foot in length, deserved a great amount of respect. It was a territorial creature, and a very dangerous one at that: the lizard’s fangs carried an extremely powerful neurotoxin that would cause an unfortunate victim to go into seizures and perish a few minutes later. (This is what had happened to the mapulk – it had accidentally stumbled onto the lizard’s burrow)
“So much for that meal,” Kulam whispered as the mapulk’s convulsions started to slow. The lizard faked a charge at the Invader and halted, hissing and fluttering its frill in warning. Kulam growled as if to scare off the lizard, but still the Invader cautiously backed away.
*****
Michael King stepped onto the bridge of the Osiris and made a beeline for Orillion. It wasn’t that he had important news, though; he just wanted to ask the man a question.
“Orillion sir, have you seen Trent or Juni lately?” King asked the Order leader.
Orillion turned and gave King a slightly quizzical glance. “I sent them home five hours ago,” he answered. “Didn’t they tell you?”
“What? Oh…yeah they did. But why’d you let them go? I think you should have let them stay.”
Orillion hesitated. “Well… to tell you the truth, I don’t really know. Something inside my head just told me it would be for the best.”
King gave the Order leader a concerned look. “That’s not like you.”
“I know,” Orillion sighed. “It’s just that it felt like it would pay off somehow.”
The following uneasy silence was broken when the bridge doors slid open and Sinclair stepped onto the bridge.
Sinclair approached Orillion. “Commander Orillion, sir…” Sinclair stopped when she saw King.
“Kendra,” King said, giving her a weak smile.
“King,” Sinclair responded coldly, crossing her arms. “I didn’t know that you were here.”
“Been here for a few days. What’ve you been up to?”
“Translating,” Sinclair said flatly. “Speaking of which…” Sinclair brushed past King and approached her commander. “Orillion, sir, I am glad to report that we have finally shed some light on the Invaders.”
Now THAT was good news. “Congratulations, doctor!” Orillion cracked a large grin. “What have you discovered?”
Sinclair smiled. “We have uncovered their origins and parts of their dialect.”
“Did you get that from the translating their communications?”
Sinclair shook her head. “No, sir. We actually got it from one of our archived Dom Kavash tablets. Apparently they knew about the Invaders.”
“The tablets??”
Again, Sinclair nodded. “Correct. I realized that some of the pronunciations in the recording were similar to those that were on a very unusual tablet that I had studied a while back. Quintaine and I went and found the tablet, analyzed it, and discovered that it is what we believe to be a brief recording of several Invader languages.”
Orillion was curious about how the Dom Kavash came across such knowledge. “You said that you also found out where the Invaders came from. Just where is it?”
“We have put the coordinates from the tablet into the computer and factored in stellar drift, sir. If we’re right, the Invader’s homesystem lies within a well-aged irregular dwarf galaxy known as G-32.”
Orillion rubbed his bald head. “I have never heard of that galaxy before.”
“Not many people have. The majority of the galaxy lies within an enormous cloud of dark matter. The only way we actually know that it’s there is because we’ve detected the faint traces of radiation that the stars in the galaxy are giving off. G-32 is over 185,000 light years away from Sirius… The Invaders have traveled a long distance to fight.”
*****
Orad’s control panel blared and a ninety second countdown appeared upon the pedestal’s screen. The battleships were now synched and ready to attack.
“At last,” Orad thought. “The humans shall feel our wrath. They will see what a truly battle worthy ship can do!”
“Armorment!” Orad shouted. “Prepare the weapons! Engines, prepare to ignite!” As the countdown ticked past thirty seconds, Orad did something he had never done before; he went into a pre-battle speech.
“Today, soldiers, will be a day that we will experience a war, one that such has not been seen in fifty-three years, since the climax of the Great Unification! It is because of that epic war that has made us who we are today. Now let us see to it that this war carries that trait! Let the humans cower in fear in the shadow of our might! Let the rising sun shine down upon a new order, in a new home! We shall fight! We shall win! We shall be victorious and rule over all!”
With ten seconds to go, Orad-Porel secured a grip on the teleportation system’s engaging switch. At five seconds, his long face pulled itself into a cruel smile.
Four…
Three…
Two…
One…
Zero.
Orad eagerly pulled the lever and engaged the system.
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