Remnant of the Aether

[Lord_S_Gray]

Chapter 48 — Oblivion Gray — Ultima Ratio — Part 6

Soban

It was like hitting a doonium slab. 

Sobans fist connected with the Aethans face but it stopped dead on the dense skin and seemingly diamond hard bone.

Worse was that he could feel it.

Heaving with each motion they were both now divested of much of their upper body armour, staring face to face eye to eye as they grappled. 

As Soban’s body exerted itself, as the blood pumped through muscles and to his heart and back more and more of the anesthetics were diluted and dissolved, the power armour intravenous system had been severed, the thin clear plas tube squirting its milky saline solution to the floor by Soban’s immovable feet.

His arm was snapped back by Melrons upward counter and the Aethan fist slammed into Soban’s chest sending him reeling and the wind gusting out of him despite the thick plating.

Soban struck back with a knee, the motion in his weary atrophied hips excruciating, but enough to get the Aethan off him for a moment.

It was all a warrior could want.

The intoxication of adrenaline pumped through him with each clash, with every near miss he felt another peak.

Soban fought his best against the Aethan, his will and focus strong as ever….

But his body could not keep up.

The frustration began to consume him as he slowed, the blessing and curse of his overly muscled form wore him to dust.

Melron could feel in the lacklustre ripostes in the lethargic counters the weakness setting in.

“You don’t have to die here Vhal’Dan…” he offered gazing with shatterpoint vision at the Vahlan
“I can see what’s wrong with you...we can fix it...we could use a man like you,”

Soban offered a tight smile

“Temptation time is it,”

Melron backed off from their latest clash.

“You have nothing to gain dying here,”

There was too much truth to his word for Soban to ignore, and the aches across his body were intensifying with every moment, to the point he could no longer spare the mental energy to conceal his mind from probing.

“You turned to the Vhal’Dan against your Coven on Vahl, switched sides then, why not again?,”Melron extended his hand open and welcoming.

“The Vhal’Dan don’t have the power to give you back your youth, your strength, freedom from pain - we do,”

“And what new chains will I bear for it,” Soban asked, unable to hide the yearning for freedom from the incessant war with his own body.

“Only friendship,” Melron replied earnestly “and friends share the things they have learned over a long life,”

“It’s a shame…” Soban whispered as he reached to take the hand for friendship
“...that we met as enemies…”

Their hands clasped and Soban’s feet for the first time in several minutes switched sending tremors of aches through his body as he dragged the Aethan forward in a treacherous twist, his  Zweihander slicing the side of the Aethans face and into the shoulder before Melron could pull away.

Blood and charred flesh filled Melron’s vision as Soban growled his spirit strong enough to compensate for the weakness of his flesh.

“Age and treachery, Old Man,”

<<<<>>>>

Triad Forn and Leth

Water sprayed in pressurized jets beading on oiled armour before shut off valves cut the flow from flooding the ruined and cracked tiles.

Sonic pulses from the bath pulsed the mists from the broken sanisteam around the swirling limbs in the ruined Refreshers.

Tertius Nuuron of Tirad Leth struggled to get to his feet on the wet cracked opening that had been a wall between the refreshers and the Training salle.  The Shadow Warrior after nearly taking off his head with a Katana swipe had kicked him into and through the wall itself, Secundus Tenobe tried to take advantage, but found himself hurled upside down through the refreshers demolishing the pipes and fixtures along the way.

“...Quaff Muncher Shavit sniffing, dren dobbling….” their Primus Dexxel Behrn continued his rampage of expletives as he near stepped on Nuuron’s leg hacking at the Shadow warrior.

Zewihander crackling and hissing in the steam filled air as it smashed into the Katana that had taken a long line of flesh from Behrns cheek, but miraculously missed the eyes it had aimed for.

“Come on Whitey call that a hit,” Taryn grunted not beleiving his taunts as he pushed against the albino primus, Katana weaving swiftly out of Behrns attempt at a blade lock - the damn pasty faced Cataprhact had an edge in raw strength with his power armour that Taryn made up for with dexterity and reach.

Tenobe brushed chunks of ceramic and splodges of soaps from his gauntlets, water from broken pipes washing away carbon scoring from several dozen maser hits that were filling with dover catalyst - too many holes from Taryn’s hyper accuracy to fully repair, but the catalyst infill denied the Aethan ‘soft’ targets.

It had taken a tremendous effort to finally get the Hades pistols out of Taryns hands, Behrn and Nuuron bashing at him from both sides, Tenobe lining up with his multispecs integrate targeting into arm mounted cannons to blast the pistols mid air as taryn juggled them in his three weapon dance.

As Nuuron got to his feet Tenobe charged at Taryn from behind, his own weapons cut to pieces by the Katana that bled blue fire. Taryn spun under Behrns blade, a ball of kinetic into Tenobe - the Mirilan took the blast in his stride his Zweihander raised in a high Niman ‘Crane’ stance as Behrn locked Taryn back up again he struck.

The unnatural flexibility twisted Taryn’s tall form in ways that would break most humanoids spines - his blade bashing off Behrn’s lower strike, Tenobe’s Niman Leaping Crane hit into Taryn's shoulder, hissing against a crack in the pauldron Nuuron had made earlier perfectly, slicing through to cauterize skin and muscle before Taryn could twist out - and straight into Nuuron.

The Nautolon came at him with tight Soresu sweep grinding the Katanas length, at the last moment Taryn switch grip, the Katana falling slightly with a twist he cut into the vambrace adding Aether Flame energy - the blackstone ate into the vambrace, the ablative plasma cloud response countered by aether flame to ensure it kept cutting through to the forearm beneath. 

Cataphract plate could just withstand ultradense blackstone with an Aethans muscles powering it, humanoid flesh and bone could not, the Katana cut into the green skin and sinewy white muscles beneath, through the pink tinged bone.  Nuuron lost his grip, Taryn swaying in a circle beneath another slash from Tenobe and into a kick at Nuuron’s chest toppling him.

Behrn’s follow up prevented Taryn taking advantage, his Tertius left arm nonfunctional, Taryn would not be denied, a flare of raw power to set his Flame shield alight staggering Behrn and Tenobe back  for a brief moment.

Nuuron went forward, seizing a chance he knew would not come again, half his left arm danglinh he grabbed Taryn behind in a bear hug, undermining the intention of Taryn’s flame shield to give him room to move.

“Mynock mooching quim get the frell off!” Taryn snapped as he struggled, Nuuron drawing on all the strength he could to pin the Aethans arms to his sides and even slightly lift him up, servo’s clanking in the power armour.

“DO IT” Nuuron yelled, Tenobe first to respond quickly thumbed his Beskar-Breaker to full energy and lunged forward.

The Jade tip struck just below the Mark II Oblivion armour chest piece, squealing as it crackled into the Aethans torso. Taryn felt the cold cauterizing cut into his lower stomach, sizzling HydroChlor acids and symbiotic bacteria.

Behrn shortened his sabers blade length to go for the neck. Taryn’s Katana dropped from his hand and flew with his last two shikkars at the Primus, delaying the killing stroke even as Tenobe pushed deeper toward the spine through the Aethans dense organs and interstitial skeletal structure a-typical for human species.

The Flame shield was still pouring off Taryn, a Blaze as true as his former Pirate moniker, partially dulled by the Cataprhacts legacy Force Callous - it flowed up Tenobes Zweihander working through Nuuron’s exposed bleeding arm into his body.

Nuuon’s glassy black eyes went liquid as he felt his insides burn, his grip loosening and responsiveness to Taryn’s incessant squirming failing. 

Taryn lifted both feet and leaned back, kicking into Tenobes legs.  A single unit, Nuuron and Taryn dropped back just before Behrn’s blade could reach the neck, Tenobes saber blade sliding painfully out of Taryn just short of reaching the spine but leaving a smoking hole that smelt of charred meat.

Crashing his full weight onto Nuuron Taryn rolled off and summoned his Katana back to his hand to deflect Behrns’ blow straight at him, The Aethan’s lower stomach, second liver and third kidney, as well as abdominal muscles ruined, making a range of upper body motion impossible - short of decapitation little could overcome Aethan resilience.

Primus and Pirate fought with sharp, speedy blows over the dying body of Nuuron as Tenobe struggled to douse the eldritch flames infecting his own armour.

“Just a flesh wound!” Taryn gritted as he knocked back another blow rising however uncomfortably to his feet

Behrn snapped back “I’ll gut you like a Mega-Koi yet Kirff licker!”

With spite and at a severe cost to his already damaged mid section Taryn stopped down on Nuuron’s head, the helmet took the brunt but angry Aethan weight was enough to crack it inward, sharp pieces of metal stabbing into the already unconscious Nautolon’s face all but finishing him.

Tenobe’s blade met the Oblivion Katana once again, the cacophony of saber on sword ringing through the refresher rooms as Nautolon blood stained the once white tiles beneath their feet, the glassy sheen of the life giving fluid reflecting the glowing clashed above.

Taryn blasted flares of fire every chance, Tenobe suppressed pain with the Force but could not stop the sloughing off and damage to muscles beneath.

They Faltered, Behrn pushed to block, Taryn invested much of his remaining power in the blow the katana drove down Behrn’s blade and cut into Tenobe with its tip.  Taryn let go.  Behrn’s resistance caused his balde to fly up, the Katana spun off, Taryn leapt into Tenobe taking him to the ground and tearing off the damaged helmet.

Two headbutts before Behrn could force him off concussed the Secundus.

“FRAG you Bitch!”  Behrns yelled as he tried to cut the Aethan in two.  Katana flying back, it struck Behrn behind as Taryn rose, gripping Tenobe still humming Zweihander to clumsily but effectively slive into Behrns - the blades locked and twisted Berhn pressing the Aethan into the ground.

Taryn feinted releasing his grip, Bern wouldn’t be fooled twice more controlled in his grip, Taryn grinned as he poured precision lighting into a crack in the Beskar breaker he grippied.  Behrn pulled back too late as the aether lighting overloaded the power cell causing it to explode in both their faces- Taryn gambling he could endure better than the albino.

Hit beskar-breaker sputtering off, pink burns all over his face the Primus reached a new level of rage, leaping onto the Aethan who had underestimated the explosive effect.

“Rancor Frelling, Yoog screwing!!”

With vicious unrelenting strikes timed to expletives Behrn attempted to bash Taryns to death by hand.   

<<<<>>>>

Secundus Oolon gripped onto the haft of the Shadow Warriors Naginata, his long Gado digits wrapping several times around the malefic thing.

Lydan struggled to pry his weapon, aware the Primus and tertius were only temporarily delayed. Oolon clamped down, servos’ in his powered armour whining against the vast strength of the Aethan Shepherd, feeling through his long organ filled arms faux heat of Force enchantments.

The Naginata had been crafted by the savant like Adaea to serve her husband as a more ‘pointy’ substitute for his trusted Obirio wood shepherd's staff. 

Oolon felt the tingle of the aether fires flow into him, internal burns on the organs that resided largely within his limbs starting to itch as he wrestled with Lydan with all his strength,for three...four….Kalli come on!...five….

NOW he heard his primus through the battlefield and keeping his grip twisted with all the limber flexibility of his species to the side as far as he could.

A razor ball sized explosive prepped by Kallis’ demolition expertise and hurled with Tertius Jin’ba’s Telekinetic force slashed past Oolon and into Lydan’s chest sending him flying backward.

The large locker dented rather than broke as Lydan smashed into it back first near horizontal in the air as the kinetic wave died but the explosive it had carried with it triggered.

Triad Forn hunkered down and turned their back, Oolon still gripping the Naginata, as the miniaturized ‘Bunker Buster’ Primus Kall-jeq "Kalli" Masbes had built for this very occasion detonated.

Their helmet auto-visors polarised near fully black as the white-yellow light cast huge shadows in the armoury that the fight against the shadow had led them to through several ruined doorways and walls.

It would destroy Triad Aurek, Besh and Cresh, lockers, melting the Corellian collection of Syntha-pop Etch-discs - but to take out a Shadow they would surely forgive her.

The heat wave rapidly dissipated, they expected to see a charred corpse…

Lyadan stood heaving, hands wide and trembling as the wispy mirage of a kinetic bubble died down, he had contained most of the blast in a kinetite aether shell...at a significant cost to already half depleted aetheric stamina…

His Mark II armour still glowed  a dull red, body-glove partially melted against his skin, and the Blackstone would cool brittle and vulnerable.

Kalli offered a respectful grunt at the bastard's endurance. 
Oolon was dragged forward as Lydan summoned his Naginata back, the Gado using all his weight yet every second holding it caused more Force fire to flow into him, the Force Callous of his legacy armour staving off perhaps two thirds of it.

The Primus felt the pain her Secundus was suffering denying the enemy his weapon, she and Jin’ba raced to take advantage,  hails of micro missiles and marble sized explosive shot from her modified back mounted launcher heralding the attack.

Swiftly drawing his dagger Lydan shouldered through the smaller explosives that could barely cause him to sway, though still added to the cumulative damage on his armour, crouching low as Kalli swung for his neck, side stepping Jin’ba’s follow up.

Like a hunkered crustacean moving side to side he naivataged the ever shifting humming zweihander blades, slashing out with a backward grip where he could, dagger sparking against the legacy armour, dover catalyst filling the cracks. 

The Aethans had learned the hard way of the armours ablative plating and  self restorative ability - the first could be partially avoided by tempering the kinetic force of any impact below the plasma clouds threshold for counter detonation, the latter had to be ‘bled’ down with an array of mid sized gashes and breaks.

It was obvious what the Shadow was trying to do - wear them down, drain their dover catalyst supplies.

Lydan had not relented summoning his Naginata, Oolon’s feet dragged along the floor grinding gashes in the metal, the anti-outsider enchantment on the Oblivion weapon was working slowly but surely - Lydan sensed a weak link among the Triad.

He traded blows on his back and right shoulder to spin and twist out of the cage of Beskar-shattering blows Kalli and Jin’ba had tried to create, lunging out of their attack as if he were diving into a stream after a stray paddling gromin.

One hand out he kinetically wrenched his Naginata and the Secundus attached forward even harder while unleashing his dagger holding hand down like a guillotine to drive it straight into the top of Oolon’s helmet.

The Ablative plasma cloud burst and reduced the momentum by 75 per cent, the armour itself drained at least twenty more...but the tip of the dagger wielded by among the physically strongest of the aethans reached in by that marginal remainder to cut into the Gado’s skull.

Lydan landed and with both hands pushed the dagger depper, the Gado trembled not from resistance but frm capitulation Lydan let go and grabbed his Naginata back, spinning round - but not quite fast enough.

He came face to face with a Yellow blade to his face plate, Jin’ba’s talent for telekinesis enhancement doubling the sheer force to crack straight in. 

The Oblivion plate broke and spat as the beskar breaker cut through, the cauterizing heat searing of first the tip of Lydan’s nose, then into his face in a diagonal from his left forehead to right lower lip - eyelids closed just protecting his vision before he could throw the Tertius off with a raw blast of Aether whirlwind.

The Shepherd staggered back straight into Kalli’s blade which sputtered against his back armour, the Nautolon Pimus wrapped her arm round the young Aethans neck as she tried to breach the Oblivion armour.

By now he’d regained his Naginata and swung it in a furious wide arc to bash the Primus back however inelegantly. 

As she staggered back she saw Lydan’s main back armour plating drop off hissing and smoking beside her fallen secundus, purple-red blood pouring from Oolon’s helmet where a dagger remained forgotten and embedded.

It was then she noticed a trail of dark green blood from her own side, the Naginata had in that quick start managed to cut through the already damaged side of her armour, dense blade easily eating through her endoskeleton, not deep enough to reach any organs, she knew it would be the enemies main target.

fine by me she thought as Jin’ba’s blade locked with the Shadow Warrior once more.

She knew she would endure far worse than that little scratch to fulfil this mission.
And she would fulfil it.

[center<<<<>>>>[/center]

[Lord_S_Gray]

Chapter 48 — Oblivion Gray — Ultima Ratio — Part 7

Triad Qek

The archives were a ruin, the dust on the ceiling breach had settled away from the fighting, the large compactor cabinets had mostly come down used as spring boards for Kiraea’s 300 kilo weight, chunks of detritus flew as random distractions under telekinetic guidances, rarely proving anything more than an irritance.

Only the cabinet containing the holocron precious to both sides was left untouched, the nonahedron hovering indifferently above its stand as the two sides drilled each other further into depletion.

No plate on the cataphracts was left without a blackstone blade scar, the Zweihanders reserve power cell had never been more valuable as it held off the ultradense weapons.  A number of their power armours servo’s and kinetic compensators were failing, each had a HUD filled with yellow and a few red indicators, the cross guards of their Zweihanders were nicked and hot from ceaseless impacts.

Outer layers of the Oblivion armour became brittle under the strikes of the Zweihanders, Tribal enchantments on their skin and armour were drained of their energy leaving the Aethan with just the power of their own aether connection and physical prowess.

Villados could see the strain her Triad was under, Eritae could only just hold the Metaphysical assault back, Alulat was reaching the end of even his extensive future flash stamina.

Blinding white core of flame left eldritch blue shadows as they burst from Kiraea’s hands, her swords moved as if wielded by a ghost, still striking against Balmung hard as if they were in her hands.

Villados could feel her joints crying for relief as she battered back blade after blade after blade.

Alulat nearby was hunkered and low behind his own beskar breaker trying to keep the aether flames from overwhelming him as he kept providing just enough future flashes to keep Villados able to fend the blades off, but the Katarr steel about his eyesless brow was beginning to tighten and burn like the strain in his force connection.

Ertiae ‘stomped’ and ‘severed’ the steady stream of psychological spikes sent at her Triad. 

Kiraea knew keeping up her three pronged attack one would break, and no matter which, she would win - if only just.  Superior though she was their numbers made a difference.

Outer layers of the Oblivion armour had become brittle under the strikes of the Zweihanders, Tribal enchantments on her skin drained of their energy leaving just substantial native power..

The Triad knew this as well.  If nothing changed one would slip and the others would fall - none of the three friends wanted to be the one to fail others.

Villados glanced off a blade aimed at her chipped armour, Alulat rolling out of the stream of aether fire, Eritae shifting her focus more fully to the physical world they changed the game.

The Primus jumped back near stumbling on fallen bookcases, her Secundus and Tertius flaring their beskar-breakers to life, dispensing with their more metaphysical skills to focus solely on battering the enemy down.

Kiraea’ blades quickly returned to her hands as two zweihanders sought to slice her, the Miraluka and Yashuvhi - in purely physical terms - relatively fresh bursts of speed and strength.  Villados took over the role of mental defense as best she could.

They were gambling the Shadow Warriors metaphysical attacks had diminished in intensity enough for Villados to take that role on.  To Kiraea’s irritation they were right.

Kiraea’s arms and fingers worked just as ceaselessly and precisely in chaining savage routines of stabs and slashes, legs continued to leap her around the fallen and still standing wooden shelves and library desk, knocking off holo-drives and datapads,  she was met by two blades deflecting and four feet moving - she could not physically grind down two of them, and she lacked the initial thrust of metaphysical strength to exploit Villados comparatively weaker mental defences.

Kiraea was no longer having fun.

Future flashes of bone melting and stomach churning pain filled Alulat’s head barely in time to  preemptively defend against Kiraea’s sudden blast of frustrated energy that took the form of a massive Malacia and Gravity manipulation attack.  Writhing tentacles of energy sought to upend the most basic of their homeostatic functions while the gravity in and around the room tripled - even for Cataphrats who trained under five times standard gravity the suddenness of the change was disorienting.

It gave Kiraea an instant, but narrow advantage to unleash at her opponents with the full array of her dexterity and reflexes.

The Secundus and Tertius moved as if in tar, trying to shield the gaps at their joints from the Oblivion blades, only the emergency setting on the hyper-tactile armour was saving their bodies now with automated responses across the power armour to avoid the worst impacts. 

It still left room for half a dozen cuts into shoulder, thigh, knee and elbow joints as Kiraea moved like a serrated shadow around the pair aiming to inflict a death by a dozen cuts, threads of blood followed the short swords as they plunged from one gap to the next.

By the time Gravity fully returned to normal, Kiraea’s own head feeling overly light from the exertion, the Cataphracts were cut up enough to be severely slowed.

Biting with sheer spite against the pain they hit back hard as they could, Beskar breakers shattering off pieces of the Oblivion armour Villados had damaged as the Primus herself rejoined them despite her own fatigue.

For a crucial fifteen seconds Triad Qek bashed Kiraea down as one, their battlemeld and careful positioning keeping her trapped, by the time her inhuman contortionist like acrobatic skill allowed her to escape she was rolling to put out the cauterizing cuts along her limbs, side and back, a saber burn across the top of her head through the damaged helmet have cooked off a good portion of her long red hair and cut into the scalp.

For genecrafted Aethans this level of physical exertion was sustainable, aether powers were raw and scratchy, but she could endure hours of such muscular exertion far better than the Kiffar, Miraluka and Yashuvhi. 

The Primus realised this as she saw her enemy, divested of more than half the Oblivion armour she had started with, and sporting dozens of saber wounds that would have any other humanoid catatonic in pain, stand and leer at the Triad.

The Shadow had narrowly won the war of attrition.  Their power armour was sparking and failing, dover catalyst all but depleted, connection to the Force utterly drained, they could barely telekinetically lift their own sabers without a shattering migraine let alone increase their speed and strength in already tremor filled limbs. 

Hand to hand, blade to blade without the Force, she knew they were no match against the demi-goddess in black who, now charged to inflict the coup de grace.

As if by sheer will their blade moed to block, feet to move over the rubble strewn ground - fighting for their lives brought a desperate second wind and intensity to the battle meld that exceeded anything they had ever known, for the failure of any one motion would mean death for all three against the ravenous creature whose frustrated growls intensified as the green Aethan eyes flashed furious aether blue.

Amidst the chaos of the battle, the knife edge of imminent death, Villados sent a chilling simple message to the other two thirds of Qek’s united mind.

<Run.>

<<<<>>>>

Lion and Beast

Blows that could not be counted hit with newtons that could barely be measured.

The Lion of the Vhal’Dan was a fortress of mental focus, wrapped in the Force to bring his speed, endurance and strength to a level that matched - and in some ferocious moments - exceeded the Wrath of the Goddesses.

Among a battle that in years to come would be remembered with shuddered for its viciousness, the battle between Nurhl and Jarys was the most ferocious.

Each was a mountain of strength that with blade, fist, knee, kinetite and psychic energy was trying to erode the other. 

The Seclusiam in which they fought was suffering most.

Intense beams of telekinetic energy sent the titanium bodies crashing into statues, unconnecting slashes cut columns into chunks, every saber and body block ended with a tension shockwave release that cracked the stone and pushed the dirt and dust deeper in gaps their weapons had cut.

The grand bronzed armour of the Triarch was a scratching post of gouges and gashes, edges half melted from Aether lighting, entire pieces sparking on the ground, mail weave beneath ragged as moth eaten cloth, the hardened muscle beneath exposed through singed fur.

The Oblivion armour of the Beast was equally ground down, body glove exposed in numerous places, pieces denting the floor where they fell.

Neither cared as they lunged against each other once more.

Blades slammed together in motions that could not be seen except for the white hot points of impact, and only heard as an unbroken chime of impacts.  The air crackled with Force energies as kinetic blow and counterblows were hurled in a tumbling even duel.  Monolithic Noble Will loomed against Animalistic Predation as minds pressed against each other on unseen planes.

Every motion was analysed for advantage, every step checked for potential weakness at the speed for pure reflex between the two masters of combat.

Nurhl gnashed his feline jaws in growls, slashing with his claws against hyperkeratin skin when he saw an opening, a satisfying jet of blood bursting out hot and steaming

Jarys throat rumbled in grunting anger as his iron like palm struck the Cathars shoulder with a wet crack.

Roaring the Triarch twisted, regripping Draundal with both hands and slamming his dislocated shoulder into the Aethan brutally to bash it back into the socket.

The Battlemeld and the Groupmind coalesced ever tighter around the as battles at Hephaestus Base and Lus’Phor ended, it only intensified their respective power as they became ever more pure conduits for the full force of the gestalts of Force energy.

Unconscious knowledge of the results of those battle flowed to their minds to be weaponized.

“Your Shadows fall beneath the Ocean and on the Moon!” the Trairch growled with triumph images of Ravra and Ya’quls exemplary physical endurance efforts mixed with Qaman’xa incredible mental suppression of the Witch-Matriarch

“Your Hamask is lost, Kage all but dead!” Jarys hissed back, knowing of Ari and Valens victory through the over mind,

“The War is OVER!” each syllable was emphasized with an earth shaking overhand blow of the Oblivion sword against Druandal’s golden fire.

Words that might dishearten a lesser warrior only lifted the Triarch who echoed the wisdom of Soban.

“Our Cause remains!” the Trairch bellowed back, taking the offensive with mid and low strikes of the beskar breaker pushing the Aethan back to the wall.

There was a greater conflict, beyond Ansonite and Traitor forces at play that the Cathar understood and the Aethan was ignorant of. 

It was the war between savagery and reason, tolerance and xenophobia, honour and bestiality, law and  - criminality, Self Awareness and Animal Instinct -  of That war Nurhl was a Champion, and the need for it to be fought neither ended nor increased if the Kage lived or died - for this was what the Vhal’Dan strived for, and the Call of the Cataphracts was to defend it.

Into a dangerous corner Jarys twisted his grip, releasing one hand, lunging to grab the Triarch, catching his shoulder Jarys used all his vast bulk as a counter weight to hurl the Cataphracts into the wall, smashing the statues of the Third Triarch.

The Cathar grabbed the Aethans arm in Turn while driving Durandal into the chest, throwing the Shadow Warrior into the wall beside him.

Over and over they grappled within inches of each others face - the Cathar using his longer muzzle to bite at the Aethans face where he could - slamming each other into the stone edge of the secularism, smashing into benches and plinths, their longer blades less useful so close they reverted to fists and dagger, the Triarchs Tremor-Dagger driving into the Aethans hip, the Oblivion blade inreturn cutting the Triarchs bicep open.

The injuries seemed irrelevant as what their bodies could not accomplish due to outright damage they supplemented with intrinsic kinetic powers.

Time seemed to warp around them, the fight seeming to have only just begun an instant before, yet lasting a hundred years.  Nurhl could feel the impact of countering and delivering blows to the superhuman Shadow in the constant pangs of pain through his body, each time suppressed by his indomitable Will.

Even Jarys felt the unusual sensation of actual fatigue in addition to image, the Cathars infinite focus seeming to translate to physical fortitude.

They punched, kicked, tore, stabbed, shredded, every move they knew and many they made up on the spot or copied from the other as they adapted on the fly to the other, each feeling the intensity of previous battles was a prelude to this final test.

Jarys had come far from his bestial rages in the pits of Nar-Shadda and the jungles of Myrkr. Finally able to connect with his daughter, embracing his role as husband to Kiraea, mentor to Ari and the younger Aethans had made him more than the ‘Beast’, a transition that flowed as thick and fast as blood in his veins into the living Wrath of the Goddesses that held all the primal rage  genecrafted biology could harness aimed with tactical precision.

Nurhls existed for the endless moment of battle, the Pride of the Pride of the Vhal’Dan.  Even as his body cried to stop his spirit relied with an adamantium ’never’.  Never would the bastion of all that was noble and true of the Vhal’Dan in that era relent against the antithesis of all he stood to uphold for something as trivial as splintered bones and torn muscle. 

The Triarchs Will became his body, stronger than any set of Legacy Armour, limbs that should be severed were held fast by loyalty, ribs that ought to crack fused by conviction.

Nurhl Båz Rahdde Lion of the Vhal’Dan was the immovable object protecting the Order from the unstoppable force of Jarys Wrath of the Goddesses.

The Aethan felt it, pushed against it - their very souls ground feral red against noble blue. 

They crashed like stars over and over, every statue about them cracked from pressure waves, every short lived set of thrust and parry a masterwork of blended blade and Force power techniques that would’ve left the greatest blademasters of the Vhal’Dan pleading to be taught how such was possible. 

They were barely conscious of their actions, their souls and instinct drove the machines of their bodies into seeking the slightest advantage. The Triarch defending his home drew on that conviction to begin to gain an edge in each pass, landing slight deeper cuts, his ripostes that much stronger.

The strength of defending ones home was in the Triarchs' limbs, Jarys Vendetta driven fury could never match that and he knew it.

No option left Jarys sacrificed the aether for raw power.

Drawing back his presence he balled it into an inversion of the Aether that pushed unsteadily outward armour him barely a meter.

The Force died from Nurhls body in a gut wrenching instant, he recovered quickly but the briefest moment of shock was enough for the Aethan to exploit.

Without the Force to speed his reflexes and sense Nurhl was left watching the blurry motion of black fists smashing Durandal from his grasp, then two vices gripping around his throat as Jarys leapt on top of him.

The all encompassing pressure on his throat mixed with a brief sense of weightlessness as Nurhl felt them both fall backward, Jarys intent to keep him within the ever shrinking Null field - knowing he could sustain it for only a handful of seconds.

The Triach hit the floor just beside where Kiraea had been blasted  floor downward in what seemed an aeon of war ago, the sheer weight of Cataphract an Aethan cracking the already fragile flooring and sending them plunging downward.

With a plume of dust and blood Nurhl felt his back crack as he landed staring up into a chillingly passive blood and scar mangled face of Jarys over him.

<<<<>>>>

[Lord_S_Gray]

Chapter 48 — Oblivion Gray — Ultima Ratio — Part 8

It had been Kazic in his post memory consumption haze that had felt the daen nosi first writhe in agony and order the immediate evacuation of Lus’Phor as quickly as legs could carry them to the ships.

Descending through the Atmosphere of Galtea, Xanaea had felt it next. 

The youngest Aethans total and utter openness to her People and their Goddesses made her more attuned to their nascent whispers across a Veil enormous as it was wafer thin.

Her eyes narrowed and focused, her adoptive mother Selaena still nursing many injuries from Sora’s beating days before ever observant of her second daughter quickly snapped her attention on the girl.

<It’s alright…> Xani said to allay the older woman’s fears.

<But It’s not…I have to…I have too…>

Barely knowing what she was doing, yet expertly enacting it the young Aethan burst her presence to encompass the entire group mind with a ratcheting and disorienting pulse against the very nature each Aethan was drawing upon.

The Null pulse was an unspoken, inexplicable signal for each and every one of them with what little strength most had left to push against the Aether instead of pulling it in - a micro Null field barely able to cover them but just enough to survive the primary blast wave of the Thought-Bomb deonated on Lus’phor.

Across Galtea, and in the ships bursting from Lus’Phor the Aethans one and all vanished from the Force for brief stressful moments, some barely conscious supported by those near, and Xani herself pushing the Null where the Connecting Group mind had once been.

If the desperate pleas of the People to their Goddesses throughout the last hours as they were beaten and broken by the Cataphracts had gone unanswered, it was because they had saved their limited yet divine powers for this moment.

<<<<>>>>

>>>>Hephaestus Base<<<<

The Barabels hissed, Ya’qul screamed incoherent curses as the Shadows balled in on themselves.

Then the wave hit, the force that had been their staunch ally buoying the last Cataphracts up died and the full wracking intensity of the pain it had suppressed cascaded onto them like a dam shattered at its foundation.

As Ravra fell to her knees in shocked silence her Triad and Ya’qul writhed in agony at the sudden impact.

Evaea scrambled up as the world bleached red and black in her vision, her own ice echoing as directed them to flee, there was no time to finish the enemy, every second in the null was precious.

They crawled and staggered, scooping up what orbs they could carry along with the bodies of the unconscious, without the aether their progress drastically slowed, obtaining barely a third of the total, the rest would be rendered worthless by the shockwaves ruination.

On his hands and knees Ya’qul followed the blood trail to the exit to the nearby docks, briefly catching the blood shot eyes of Evaea, bitterness at the stymied battle would never leave him, whether they would’ve won or lost in the end would never be known.

With seized muscled he scooped up Linella’s fallen Sulen rifle, ineffectually firing shots at the door hitting nothing but the walls, till finally the waves subsided long enough for him to stand.

Long moments that lasted only a few seconds he stood staring embittered -a dour crease in face at the one and only consolation midst the losses suffered -

The Cataphracts had remained to the end, the Shadows had run.

<<<<>>>>

>>>> Istic Fortress ‘Nurhls Den<<<<

Another fist landed into the purple bruised puddle of Taryn's face, Behrn raised his gauntlet again determined this would be the one to crack the skull.

Instead an excruciating wave of wretched energy struck the depths of his soul as the Thought Bomb wave hit and his enemy vanished in the Force.

The Albino primus gripped his head writhing as all the pain the Force had suppred in his body lit like a wildfire.

Matted and bloody Taryn heaved him off as further down Kall-jeq Masbes staggered at the last moment.

Lydan was his knees, his naginata snapped in two, half of it protruding from Jin’Ba’s back, a sacrifice for Kalli to get the Shadow warrior this vulnerable.


The holocaust shockwave sent her tumbling like a sack of rocks, her beskar breaker falling.

 The Aethan pair wasted no time as their null fields died and the twisted broken Aether flooded back in.  The Thought bomb left all Force energies hollow and twsited in the immediate aftermath, the exertion of a null field seemed preferable but was impossible to maintain


They crawled and scraped toward each other, smacking the crippled cataphracts down as they passed, half hearted efforts both as they preserved energy.

The suffering was too much for Behrn, by most metrics he should’ve been dead, he fell fading in and out of consciousness.  But Kalli would. Not. stop.

Eating the razor taste of the force on her soul she crawled on her elbows and knees toward them broken fingers tossing a handful of marble sized ‘Popper’ explosives that burst onto Lydan’s legs, his efforts to stand up faltering, instead collapsing onto Taryn.

A messy, stumbling chase through the ruined arming halls began.

<<<<>>>>

Melron stiffened and to Soban’s senses vanished in the force, the old Aethans faced pained by the effort as he lunged toward Soban.

Soban thought it an attack and struck, the Zweihander slicing the side of the Aethans face and into his shoulder.

As the Wave from Lus’Phor hit Soban realised through the excruciating pain that quaked his body and soul it had been a desperate attempt by the Aethan to save him.

Melron rolled half his face a cauterized gash, arm hanging limp barely connected to his torso at the shoulder.

Soban reeled and lost all pretence, a guttural primal scream erupting as the full force of his genetic curse and the Thought bomb wave consumed his every sense.

He remained standing, the power armour, dented and carbon scored as it was, became a metal sarcophagus that refused to let anything but his head fall.

Melron slowly crawled up to the Undefeated Master Gray, betrayed in the end by his genes and overtaken by a shockwave none could have predicted.

Soban felt his body at last fully fail, he might have recovered from the exertions, maybe been able to walk again with permanent cybernetic grafting, but only if he had the Force to stabilise him until rescue arrived. 

The splintered lance that erupted each time he tried to touch the Force denied him that, the Aethan likewise limited in the currents he could tap, barely holding on given the  injuries received.
Soban stared into the cool eyes of the Aethan waiting for the coup’d’grace.  Melron struggled over, sword in hand.

Then dropped it.  Soban’s breath was a bare whisper trying to communicate in vain

 Staggering himself, leaning on the Cataphract armour Melron kept Soban company for his last minutes.

<<<<>>>>

Nurhl willed his arms to hit back, his legs to kick, but without the Force the full toll of exhaustion and strain of fighting against the super-human was dumped upon him, barely able to lift the weight of his own limbs as he felt fully the torn muscles and slack overstretched tendons.

Total victory was moments away.  Jarys released the Cathars neck for a moment only to grab his head ready to twist it off, Kiraea was mid air sword aimed straight at Villados eye about to skewer her to the floor.

The universe for Villados seemed to pause.

There was her Triarch, broken, battered, about to have his head snapped, above her the red haired demon poised to plunge a sword through her skull.

Between the prone Primus and Triarch lay Balmung, broken power cell still sparking, a keen metal edge where it have been cut apart.

Slowly, taking in a gentle breath Villados closed her eyes drawing the Force to her as she had as a Teidowan to complete the simple yet astonishing task of lifting her saber with her mind.

Kiraea’s eyes flicked in the endless moment between instants of time and saw the subtle wobble of the zweihander against the floor, knowing based on her descending arc when it landed in the Kiffar’s hands Kiraea herself would have no time to avoid the jagged weapon and her own downward momentum would plunge it into her heart. 

Balmung shattered the sound barrier as it flew to an open hand.

>>>>1 Second Until the Lus’Phor Holocaust<<<<

The long weary and pained fingers of Nurhl Båz-Rhadde gripped the shattered beskar Breaker Balmung and with all the strength of his soul thrust it into Jarys neck. 

The jagged metal sliced through the hyper-keratin and unusual bones to cut into the artery beneath - near black red arterial blood thick with hormones and nutrients meant for the brain ran hot and heavy over Balmung and onto Nurhls hand.

The adamantium vice set to twist Nurhl’s head from his neck relaxed.

Villados looked across content as Kiraea landed on her - blade first through her skull

In a seamless motion Kiraea pulled the blade covered in blood and brain and bounded across to her husband who was swaying to the side .

She knocked Jarys fully over as her hand pressed against the gash in his neck trying to stop the blood loss even as she pushed out a barely adequate null field in response to Xani’s call to protect them from the devastating force wave from the Thought Bomb.

Ertiae and Alulat, struggling to rise, were simply floored once more. 

Nurhl finally out of the Aethan null field was hit by the wave but remained definitely clasping Balmung in the air, the blood coated broken beskar breaker like a trophy, a symbol of the sacrifice he knew Villados had just made by sending the zweihander to him instead of saving herself with in the last moment.


Kiraea clung to Jarys frame tightly, her own Null field painfully expanded just enough to cover him as arterial blood pumped out before cells could trigger life saving protective responses and suspend his heart squeezing.

She fumbled about patching his throat and keeping the Null field pushing against the nefarious tide of Thought Bomb waves until the worst was passed and fatigue forced her to relent.

Everything upended the predators resorted to Flight.

Across the Fortress the Aethans staggered in a retreat from the crippled Cataphracts.

Alulat, Ertiae and Behrn barely conscious, only Kalli relentlessly shuffled after taryn and Lydan pulling herself over shattered tiles and broken pipes.  Nurhl rose slowly and cautiously as Kiraea hobbled carrying the vastly larger Jarys toward the prize they had come for.

With a quick jab her fist shattered the trasnparisteel and she grabbed the dull Holocron of Xinis’Zo, the device seeming to have shut off its usual energy aura in response to the Thought Bomb.

Neither Cataphract nor Aethan knew it had been a thought Bomb at that point, only that the Force or Aether had been shredded in an instant uniting them in weakness and panic.

The success never felt more better as Kiraea forced a path out, the Cathar regaining some motion but without the Force every injury the fight had inflicted was pulsing, the pain he could ignore, the mechanical inability to lift his left leg, shattered hips, and limp right foot he could not. 


Fallen comms began to sputter, beside Villados broken skull Nurhl heard dozen of overlapping voices as panic and terror overtook the Vhal’Dan on all sides.  Somewhere in the jumble of words he heard Kage then Dead.  He wouldn’t believe it.


Kalli was so close, recovering more with each meter as the Shadow Pair ahead scuttled through a crack in the fortress wall inflicted in the initial bombardment, mid afternoon light streaming through - the cut as a wall of black appeared.

Taryn’s face stretched hideously across his shattered features as their vac arrived in the form of Selaena and Xani, the older woman hunched with her rifle still wobbly from Sora’s beating took aim straight at Kalli behind the men, her shot ringing out but missed as weak lasers struck the side of the their hovering transport.

On an appropriated Tug the remnants of Triads Grek and Osk after a prolonged sub-light journey from the death trap Golans at the edge , - managing to get a hold of a passing automated rescue tug that prowled the Macrol Void that had hyperdrive their damaged Saril lacked, at the cost of any decent weapons and a very cramped trip.

Selaena snapped round to head to the bridge as the tug's Utility lasers meant to blast small asteroids or other minor impediments bounced but didn’t damage the Blackstone hull. 

Xani staggered losing her grasp on Taryn as the vessel bumped , Selaena intent on saving her son and daughter mate hit hard reverse to grind against the Fortress walls providing some cover as point defence cannons fired at the Tug. 

Jorl’Taf quickly snapped the sluggish controls to escape the fire, the Cataphracts on Board the flimsy craft more determined opening the air vent to leap out onto a higher level.

Already drained from projecting the Null Field Xani had only her comparatively tiny form to try and help the massive men onto the Ship as Selaena came back to help her as Kalli got closer and closer keeping to the corners remaining as unseen as possible.

Melron pushed himself hard up stair after stair, neither time nor energy to breach the Cataphract Vault he had taken what prizes he could, the fight against Soban had left him battered, but not crippled like the others due to Soban’s physical limitations.

As he rounded another corner he skidded short as arm mounted lasers blasted the ferrocrete, Gerchon and Vask seeing the Shadow Warrior making off with Soban’s body utterly incensed at the desecration. Melron had been tasked with capturing Cataphract armour and a beskar breaker - he just didn’t have time to pull it off Soban.

Kiraea was not far behind with the far heavier Jarys on her back, Nurhl struggling to keep up, the Force a raw bed of Razor blades in the shockwaves' wake.

“STOP!” The Familiar Voice of Mylinda from a swaying cracked level above caused Kiraea to pause in her movement as the Cataphracts will was expressed - something the human regretted instantly as using her unique power opened her to the murky backwash in the Force. She resorted to more conventional mechanisms of her Blasters.

One hand cradling Jarys Kiraea snapped drew her own pistol, dented and damaged faster by milliseconds, the Hades micro-mega-maser aimed with genehanced precision to blast into the Cataphracts hand- Kiraea’ pistol smoked dead but Mylinda’s exploded.

Kalli reared up at last, baring her jaws wide she thrust straight at Lydan’s back, Selaena too late to save her son suffering another blow but managing to land the butt of her rifle in the Nautolons face.

Kalli would not be dissuaded, dribbling blood she came at her again as over multiple creaking levels of the orbital bombardment damaged fortress the Cataphracts pursued the fleeing Aethans.

Behrn finally coming to himself limped into action as Nurhl made his way up the stairs, Alulat rousing Eritae.  Melron pushed past the ranged attacks of Gerchon as Vask jumped floor to floor to get the old man in melee.  The aethan elder using what aether power he could muster to destabilize each landing.

Kiraea dragged her husband fast as she could as the Cataphracts narrowed, hot blood pumping out every few seconds from Jarys throat wound as Nurhl regained if not competence then at least grudging capacity to keep going in the broken Force.

That very reliance was their undoing, without the Force the Aethans were still beyond Stage 9 Metahumans, the Cataphracts were not. 

With every passing second connected to the Thought Bomb tainted Force the Vhal’Dans bodies were at war with themselves rejecting the strange sensations, and worse slowly regaining their sense of the rest of the Battle-meld and feeling the losses that had or were occurring.

Midge’s death rattled Vask letting Melron sweep under him with Soban’s body, Qaman’xa caused Gerchon to shudder, Sora had Mylinda wince. 

Crashing through the ruins of his dens upper levels, Durandal hissing back to life poised to strike the deaths of Ravra and Soban, who Nurhl had not seen on western stair well, finally cracked through the Triarch.

The Heart and the Conscience of the Cataprhacts lost to him in a single instant. The physical and Force torture he was enduring seemed a comfort comapred to the grief that now flooded him.

He would rise from the blows again and again, for he was the Iron Will of the Vhal’Dan - ut the still small voice within asked in ominous tones

“What will that Will become without the Heart and Conscience to guide it?”

His golden feline eyes locked with the green of Kiraea’s looking back at him for  brief moment - for years after he would wonder was that momentary despair, so eminently forgivable when his physical wounds should’ve seen him splayed out broken, yet so horribly timed, was from his own mind or a trick played by the Shadow Witch.

It didn’t matter, Xani relieved some of Kiraea’s burden, the teen strung out from the weight of so much flesh and armour now burdened with one of the heaviest Aethans, but dedicated to taking him nonetheless.

The Shadow Warrior had not beaten the Cataphracts the Triarch understood, what he would later learn was a Thought Bomb had. It was never any consolation.

The last sight Nurhl had of the shadow warriors was the Wrath of the Goddesses, throat sliced open, coating a teenage girl in oblivion armour with red hair in blood.

<<<<>>>>

[Lord_S_Gray]

Chapter 48 — Oblivion Gray —  Ultima Ratio — Aftermath

<<<<>>>>

<<<<>>>>

<<<<>>>>Days Later<<<<<>>>>

<<<<>>>>

<<<<>>>>

Nurhl

The door hissed and Nurhl Båz-Rhadde left the wraith that had once been a great man to his lingering death.

Anson D’Aklon had not survived Lus’Phor.  The emaciated creature that clung to life in the Bacta tank with a writhing Thought Bomb maddened mind was not the Kage.  The Triarch would spare no expense, but given the decimation of their resources he doubted they still had what would be needed to help him recover, if it was even possible.

The small group outside the medical suite comprised Mylinda Kazz, Ambassador Jorl-Taf clinging to a DNA locked case and Master Gray Raru Vinjaga who had led the last faction of the Collegium loyal to Anson off Lus’Phor.

All looked expectantly for what Nurhl would say.

“The Kage…” the Triarch paused, he should relay the order to pursue  Kazic relentlessly with everything they had left.

That would truly be the death of the Loyal Vhal’Dan, although there had been no sighting of the Shadow Warriors since the Thought Bomb, the defection of Marc-Andr Drevifv left Kazic with some 800 or so Knights, Raru and Nurhl had only 300.

“The Kage would want his final orders honoured,” the Triarch straightened as much as he could in the back brace beneath his armour, one of many such medical supports needed while he healed.

He looked to Jorl’Taf, the Ambassador nodded, grimly moving to a desk and opening the case, within were gleaming Quantum-Locked Holo Documents, the agreement with the Confederate Colony of Zilior, Vhal’Dan military assistance and technology in exchange for refuge.

“Only the Kage can sign…” Jorl’Taf explained his long fingered hands cradling the genetic signature encoder carefully, presenting it to Nurhl.

“..or the Triarch or Arbiter on the Kages behalf.”

Nurhl nodded grimly, Mylinda sighed and turned away, Vinjaga remained stoic though a fiery desire for revenge burnt brightly in his heart.

Nurhl pressed his paw down, micro-needles taking blood and skin samples to lock into the cylindrical authenticator.

“The Kage Anson D’Aklon accedes to the agreement and the immediate transfer of all True Vhal’Dan Knights and resources to Zilior.”  Nurhls voice rumbled almost cracking as he left Galtea forever behind, consoled at least by the fact he was following the path the Kage had set out before…before the disaster that took D’Aklons sanity and left them without a leader.

“Glory to the Kage, Long may he Reign,” Vinjaga whispered, whatever happened to the body that had once held the Great Anson D’Aklon Vinjaga would never accept another to take his place. 

So far as he was concerned Anson D’Aklon was the perfect book end to what had begun with Black Rikard so many centuries past - the Final Kage who would reign in spirit over the Vhal’Dan forever.

Whatever misgivings Nurhl had of Vinjaga’s sentiment he kept hidden - there were more immediate issues to be resolved.

More documents were signed, details plotted, messages to the few remaining loyal outposts sent.

Nurhl Båz Rhadde led the anaemic remnants of the Cataphracts to an uncertain future.

<<<<>>>>

[Lord_S_Gray]

Remnant — Part 6 —Expansion

The Ailon Six

Rumbles and thumps built upon each other as the Boarding Torpedo hurled through the detritus of a brief space skirmish and leavings of asterid mining amidst a system that had no name only a Designation Deep Core - 100033287, claimed - as so far as anything in this wasteland kept apart from the galaxy by its interminable navigational hazards of incessant gravity fluctuations and super novae - by the Mining Guild.

[Sekesh 2 Ouron]
[Ouron Confirm, Naphat,]

The comm chatter was crisp and sharp as the Ailon species themselves, all clad in their read form fitting armour that resembles the chitin of insects more than plate of warriors to allow maximum flexibility. 

Beneath the humanoid Ailon were little different, a species that existed to wage war and sought every avenue to participate as mercenaries.

“Heseb, KREE!” the Doctore demanded of the only non-Ailon among the party crammed into the torpedo tube.

With rote irritation the six Aethans slammed their both wrists to their foreheads. The Term Heseb in the Ailon language was ‘Forced Labourer’ - how such a petty species had enslave six of the People was answered in the unique blue glow of the devices on the Doctore.

They had started with ten.  Korys had died on Bith, Jadyn during the brutal training regime, Mysaea in the skies over Daros VI when their ship was hit by a missile. 

Only Lysan had escaped, the unique circumstances that made it possible - electromagnetic storms and tesla carbine fire on Eadu - were unrepeatable.

Still they tried to use the chaos of each warzone to find a way to remove the insidious cell sized device that kept them obedient.

A Nano-Viral cell injected into the base of their brain stem ensured they complied with every order or a quantum entanglement signal would be transmitted from the Doctore - their ‘Trainer’ - from his cybernetically grafted control system in his arm to kill them immediately.

Under the constant observance of their Doctore there was no chance to cut them out via field surgery.  The cells also featured a number of failsafes - they were restricted to a 500 meter radius of the Doctore, the transmitter itself needed to be kept in tact and online, and the Doctore’s lifesigns had to remain in a steady state or the viral cells would assume they had tried to kill him and release their toxins. 

An incident several years earlier in which their Doctore had nearly died of a natural cardiac arrest and killed them all in the bargain had necessitated a slight tweaking but not enough to work with.

In addition the cells themselves were resistant - repellent even - to the Aether.  The Nano-Virals had been crafted, or gifted by a being named ‘Kadmaur’ to the Ailon decades ago for ‘services rendered where the Revenant had failed’.

This denied them telekinetic or shatterpoint means of removing them. 

Lysan’s escape had been a combination of such unique factors that disabled the cell and the failsafes it couldn’t be repeated.  None of them were surprised they hadn’t heard from him since, the Ailon were constantly on the move and he might not have even made it off Eadu - even if he had what was one man against the Ailon’s millions.

The only path to freedom was to simultaneously pry out all of the viral cells and suspend the Doctore from taking any actions against them - the margin of error for such an operation was in the nano seconds, and the Doctore was always heavily guarded, typically in his Armoured War suit, flanked by six other Ailon while the Aethans - known as ‘Auxiliary Squad Heavy Infantry 44-Besh’ or ‘Aux 44’ for short - was doing the real fighting.

And so as much as Kasaea, Taraea, Lynaea, Daryn, Davys and Varan hated their ‘masters’ they had to obey.

The boarding torpedo jilted them all forward as they smashed into the target.  This was ‘low’ work fending off pirates from Mining guild mines in the deep core, passing time and harvesting credits as the Ailon Nova Guard mustered for larger campaigns, just enough to keep their skills sharp.

With practised ease they deployed.  Sitting in rows back to back, the thin walls ahead of them exploded outward and their harnesses unlocked.

Swift as death they rolled and jumped into the airless mine, Korpesh Rifles powered and primed, Power-Scimitars on their hips for close combat.

The Doctore strode between them confident he would remain unharmed knowing they would use all their powers to protect him. 

They lived in a perpetual state of waiting, moving through these corridors past empty carts on mag rails and vacant ports where mining droids should be charging with indifference.

“Heseb KREE!” The call to attention was met with swift coordinated movement from the twin Aethan brothers Davys and Daryn who rounded a chiselled dark brown rocky corer and into the first engagement.

The enemy responded with speed but not dexterity, their bulky void capable armour looked ancient, thick plates of unpainted overlapping durasteel, a fixed rebreather on a large head with bulbous headlights to see in the dark of the Asteroid mine, specks of carbonite filled the air in the yellow glow of the lumens before the Korpesh rifles lanced blue hair thin beams into them.

The Praktih Legionnaires tumbled under the powerful laser lances, their armour though new was based on old designs and comparatively poor quality metals despite the efforts of their Shadow Lords to improve.

Across the twisting tunnels counter fire red and crackling struck back, the Legionnaires using rank fire to concentrate the shots from their far slower Las-Carbines.

The Aethan Six devastated the slow humans as they did almost every enemy the Ailon hurled them against, the Doctore following with his haughty gait behind the devastation they wrought, kicking over bodies with steaming holes between the eyes, noting the uniformity of the enemy equipment and the anachronistic symbolism.

“These are not Pirates, these are soldiers, Kuffuk,” he cursed, the Mining Guild had either lied, or more likely were so incompoentant they could not tell the difference between raiders and an army.

It made no difference to Kisaea as she drove her blade through the chest of one while firing point blank into the eyes of another. That they assisted Outsiders killing Outsiders was the only meagre satisfaction of their existence.

She noted the enemy didn’t retreat - fell back to defensive positions certainly - but didn’t route as a vagabond force would. Despite the losses the Aethanf inflicted she sensed a quiet confidence in the ever diminishing number of bulky plated soldiers.

“There is a trap of some kind,” she commed across as she hurled off another bulky body, Taraea behind her blocking then cutting a Legionnaire apart at the hip denying the attempt to flank her.

“Can your Heka Scry the nature of it,” the Doctore Demanded

Bitter as ever Kisaea nudged Lynaea, the most adept of them in sensing the future she was moving at a crouch covered by Varan.

“Nothing obvious…” Lynaea pushed with the aether -tunnels, eight Legionaires round the corner ahead, - Varan prepped a grenade to roll round under telekinetic guidance - and…

Wall? A vast Thick Pillar in the Aether, black as the Oblivion stone of their homeworld was waiting for them.

The grenade rolled round the corner…then rolled straight back surprising Varan, the pair pulled behind a column as it detonated, then spun out in hunched positions to fire on the Legionnaires they expected.

A Walking Giant of Shadow came instead.

Seventh charged into the interlopers with speed and strength the Aethan Ailon servants had not experienced since fighting a Gen’Dai Fraternity on the misty plains of Assanmu.

Their precision blue bolts cut thin scars into his Aegis Oblivion armour mere seconds before he tore them from their hands, an instant later massive knees crunched into them with speed beyond their own superhuman reflexes.

“KISS” Lynanae pleaded to their unofficial leader, Kisaea, Taraea and the twins moving swiftly to help their People.

Seventh was satisfied that this new enemy held valuable technology, and wanted to damage as little of it as possible, being conservative with his blows into the enemy where he could, even as he fought more against the tight confines of the tunnel than the enemy.

His three meter natural height supplemented by armour and massive muscular form ground against the I beams sending sparks as the others tried to scramble away.

“DOWN” Kisaea called as the others concentrated their fire on the behemoth creature.

Four beams of Korpesh laser fire lanced into the Aertemisaean Shadow Lord a second before he threw back a massive ball of kinetic energy.  Taraea pushed a kinetite shield to counter the attack, but the enormity of it was such it still knocked them back.

Yet that was not what troubled them the most - it was the familiarity of the aether use.

Seventh sensed it too, rushing forward his Oblivion Shatter Sword in hand he launched a bolt of Aether lighting at the six enslaved Aethans, Daryn energising himself to soak up the lighting best he could to protect the others in an instinctual defence against such an attack Aethans were born with.

“Kill it!” the Doctore demanded behind them as Seventh blad smashed into Kisaea’s Scimiatar nearly shattering the Ailon blade at the first stroke, Davys tried to cut into eh the giants side to no avail, the speed and skill of the regenerated Aethan warrior beyond their ability two on one.  The tight confines of the tunnel made it impossible for the other four to get into melee, trying instead to fire their rifles into gaps, the Aegis armour more than able to take the shots.

“Use your Heka” The Doctore instructed in the term the Ailon used for Aether or Force powers.

Daryn and Varan did so firing off a wall of aether flame to relieve Kisaea and Davys who were hard pressed by the blows Seventh rained down, as the giant twisted to take on the flame his fist very intentionally struck Kisaea’s helmet with shatter point precision cracking it off.

Taraea’s shots cracked into Seventh helm forcing him to remove his own as he took on a defensive stance - but more had been achieved by both sides.  in the very thin bare atmosphere Seventh and Kisaea could now smell each other fully.

<Aethan!> the Shadow Lord telepathically shouted to her
<Why do you serve Outsider filth!>
The Doctore watching on Kisaea lunged into the fray again, trying with all her skill knowing it was easily countered by Seventh.

<We have no choice, they control us with cellular poisons in our brainstem, immune to the aether we cannot remove them,>

She grunted against his strength, waving the others forward to fight him.

<If the Ailon behind us, the Doctore, is injured or dies they kill us, if one cellular poison is removed the others detonate,>

Seventh now fought three of these lost People, dodged the shots of three more, but his eyes were on the Ailon behind them.

<Mind Control, Illusion?> he asked

<The Doctore he can feel the aether enough to sense the attempt, he would kill us if we tried,>

Seventh grunted as their inconclusive battle continued, neither wishing to harm the other, soon the Doctore would become suspicious.

<Sixth confirm options,> Seventh singalled

<Plan in Place Thirty Seconds> Seventh had not come to this asteroid alone with the Legion, the Aertemisaeans medic with him.

Leading twelve Ash Centurions, the Prakith Legions elite forces, Sixth cut into the Ailon from behind.  The Insectoid red armoured creatures were tough, they sliced the regular Legionnaires apart, but against a soldier of the Technocracy they were no match. 

Through the corners and corridors he smashed the Ailon with his sheer bulk, blasting others to chunks with his enormous gauss rifle, the Ash Centurions covering his rear from flanking attacks, but taking quick casualties, capable as the Shadow Lords had trained them, the Praktih Legions had neither the skill nor equipment to succeed against the Ailon with anything but sheer numbers.

The Doctore’s Tac map showed the enemy coming in from behind.

“Damn you the Heka or I end you all!” he cursed the slow Heseb”

<Do it,> Seventh permitted breaking the blade lock with Davys and a performative kick to Kisaea’s breast that left her short of breath, but understanding what Seventh intended.

The Ailon slaves drew their aether powers together in a single point concentrated on Lynaea who would channel an extreme blast of Aether lighting at Seventh.

The flash of the Aether briefly filled the Doctores senses, then exploded outward slamming into Seventh, then round into Sixth, flooring the giants with a crash that rocked the entire asteroid and left them smoking husks.

“Too Slow Heseb,” the Doctore admonished his wards
“Half Rations two days,” he punished, fingers ever tickling the gauntlet buttons that would kill the Heka wielding soldiers.

“We will meditate on our errors, Doctore,” Kisaea said with a forlorn expression on her soot smeared face.

“Clean out the rest of this asteroid immediately!” the Doctore insisted.

“No Doctore, that is not possible,” She replied, standing over the hissing corpse of one of the giants.

“You defy me!” his finger hovered over the kill switch for her

She tilted her head, a fresh cut on her neck bleeding out, the air shimmered and the body she stood over vanished, a hulking figure behind Taraea with a knife in her neck inspecting a tiny device in its oversized hand.

“I do now,” Kisaea replied as her People surrounded the Doctore, all bleeding from the neck - Sixth and Seventh rapid field surgery covered by their Aether illusion having the desired effect.

Massive hands suddenly lifted the Doctore spreading his arms out painfully 

<Keep him alive for now, just in case>

<<<<>>>>

They sat in the rear of a clunky square vessel bouncing through the twists of deep core hyperspace lanes, cuts on their neck all but healed, though they would certainly need final checks to ensure everything was removed.

<Can we trust them?> Taraea, leaning into Varans embrace, asked Lynaea.

<I don’t think we have a choice,> Davys replied for her, ever the practical one.

Kisaea kept her counsel for the moment as Lynaea tried to use her Seior powers to scry any deception.  The feeling of freedom from the Ailon had not fully sunk in, and there were many questions to be asked of the abnormally large fellow Aethans who had no names, only numbers.

The Battle on the Asteroids had turned swiftly after the Doctore  was  ‘pacified’. Joining the Shadow Lords the Aethan People had turned on the Ailon tearing them to pieces in an explosion of repressed rage that only seemed to whet their need for Justice against the outsiders that had used them.

<I don’t sense deception…they have focus though, an intense drive to killing Outsiders,> Lynaea said eyes closed

<Perhaps they know of other survivors, can take us back home,> Davyn added, ever hopeful compared to his twin brother Davys beside him.  Daryn’s hand cradled two small figure carved in old wood found on the desert wastes of the first planet they had been first to train on by the Ailon.  He had carved them in the stubborn hope he would one day see his children again, Davys trying to temper his brother's expectations.     

<They are not People…yet they are People,> Varan mused, the most contemplative of them as he led Taraea - perhaps the only positive in the whole of their enslavement had been Varan and Taraea coupling.

So many years together had brought inevitable attraction among the group - Varan and Taraea came together early. Lynaea had been with Korys before he was killed, a hard blow that had taken her years to recover from, developing an attraction to Daryn afterward, but the father was so grief stricken for his lost children he seemed unable to reciprocate.

Kisaea herself as ‘primus inter pares’ had been more than friends with Mysaea before she was killed too.  Kisi knew Davys was attracted to her all along and - perhaps more out of loneliness than anything else - turned to him at times over the years but never fully bound him with her Pheromones - the stress of their existence combined with only marginal attraction to him to leave her unwilling to commit him to her.

Even as the others spoke she could feel Davys eyeing her every so often.  Easy as it would be to couple fully with him, she knew were she to die, the serious Davys would be grief stricken to the point of self destruction.

<...but I never heard of ‘Other’ Types of People, even in old Melron’s stories,> Taraea noted, many a sleep cycle she had recited her Guardian Uncles tales for them to pass the time.

<We’ll soon find out who and what they are…> Davys thought soberly <...the question then becomes what we do,> his stolen glances at Kisaea now became a fixed stare looking for guidance she only begrudgingly gave.

Leadership was her cousin Karintha’s skill, the others seemed to look to her more out of that familial connection to the Matriarch to be rather than Kisaea’s own ability.

<Survive> Was her only answer.

<<<<>>>>

[Lord_S_Gray]

Remnant — Part 6 —Expansion

Reunion

Sixth Aethans, separated by a culture and centuries, stood opposite each other before the Dagger Throne of Prakith, the usual teeming audience hall empty as this was People's business only.

On the left were the People. All bore the scars of recent explorative confirmation surgery to remove the deivce that had kept them slaves, the three men invariably 179-180 cm, the women 174-175cm tall, skin tinted slightly by radiation on dozens of foreign worlds, quickly fading scars and untrusting eyes.

On the Right the Remnant. Giants of Technocracy Engineering, 3 meters tall, out of time ruling over a micro empire driven by instinct the infused command of Purgatio Astra.

Without their Aethan slaves the Ailon had been mopped up switfly by Seventh and Sixth, albeit with substantial losses of Legionnaires. A secondary Ailon response was now inevitable.

“The Technocracy,” Ninth finally broke the eerie silence
“No Longer stands,”

The People looked among themselves before Kisaea replied.
“What is the Technocracy?”

If the Remnant were able to experience the emotion of surprise they would have felt it now. Instead their Reactivated stunted mind registered severe dissonant information.

“This means of communication is inefficient,” Ninth said swiftly, her voice far deeper to the Peoples ears matching her enormous size.
“You still possess an Aethanea Cortex, share with me your experiences and knowledge.”

The People whispered telepathically among themselves, after so much suffering they had little trust for any but their own, yet so far these titans had saved them from the Ailon, and while far from People, were the closest things to fellow Aethans they had encountered in decades.

Kisaea stepped forward and released the habitual barriers around her mind.

Ninth mentally stepped straight in, soaking up the memories offered.

Cool alpine air, high mountains, Ninth recognised the location as a nature preserve on the Northern continent of Aethas…wooden houses, rope and simple metal, waterwheels on the river, marble statues of the old Civic Symbols -turned to Goddesses…a culture of farmers and craftsmen watched over by a handful of skilled warriors…ruined...destroyed by the coming of the outsiders…lost…sold, implanted, enslaved, made to fight, two of their original number dead, another's fate unknown, six remained waiting for the chance praying to the Goddesses for succour…

Superstitious uncultured savages Ninth realised among her squad, as close to a sense to despair as a being without the necessary neurology to experience emotion could muster as she saw what the Technocracy had descended into, a subsistence Tribe that while not without its moment of ingenuity was so very far from the glory of the Technocracy as to not even be worthy of its shadow.

The link of the Aethanaea Cortices - the Technocracy crafted brain organ that allowed rapid sharing of knowledge worked both ways.

The People through Kisaea saw War…endless hopeless war, knights in battered bloody dress with crimson energy swords at the heads of thousands of slave soldiers, a handful of chosen Sword brethren beside them - the Sith Lords of the Deep Core some 700 years ago. 

The Technocracy was losing, badly, it was only a matter of time before they found Aethas. 

She saw nine battles, on cramped oil and rust covered ships, on glass covered moons, monsoonal seas, black sand deserts…they were the Remnant before her but normal height, soldiers, spies, scouts…killed in combat, bleeding, broken, enhanced organs failing - black hands brought them dead to white suited scientists and ‘sorcerers’

A black Altar, innumerable injections and implants to sustain dying flesh at ultra cold temperatures, a last resort for a Technocracy that had so few citizens was to revive their own dead - but the need to ‘Perfect’ everything tainted an already necromantic process. 

The dead could not be restored, not fully, fragmented personalities were rebuilt into molds of pure obedient instinct, their bodies enhanced, made bigger, faster, stronger to compensate for a lich like connection to the aether - outwardly strong but hollow within.

Prepared, equipped, ready for the final tests before being deployed to the front lines as the first of an undying army that could be, with refinements, recycled over and over…

But too late…Darkness of Centuries collapsed upon them.  They woke lost, distant, their Technocracy dead, but their implanted orders remained.

They are…our ancestors… Kisaea realised

People and Remnant stared once more across at each other, some understanding of the other gleaned.

“You don’t know where home - Aethas - is…” Kisaea spoke first

“Solar rotation around the Black Hole in the deep core is not predictable, we know the search zone, but it accounts for over a million stars and we have limited and outdated resources to search with, few probes reach the zone, fewer send data back through the radiation.”

Ninth affirmed their mutual homeworld remained hidden.

The People had lost their Home, their culture, family, the Remnant, the Technocracy that designed and remade them best as twisted aether arts and genetic engineering could from dead soldiers.

“We have Purgatio Astra,” Ninth said knowing it was no consolation as she extended her hand across the Dagger Throne, symbol of their dominance of a servile human micro empire that was a mere stepping stone in acquiring resources to Cleanse the Stars of Non-Aethan Sentient life.

Kisaea took it.

“And now we have each other,”

<<<<>>>>

Twenty Ailon vessels screeched out of hyperspace over DC_100022145, the largest Mining Guild Carbonite facility in the Deep Core, on a barren pink sand world beset by scorching 200 degree celsius winds of razor sharp silicone that had long since eroded any above ground hills or mountains on the planet too close to its sun.

Smoke filled the shielded dome over the entrance to the mines.  Orbital docks floated lifelessly, vulture droids and droidekas sparked and drifted between them, all bearing the marks of Prakith Legion Las-Carbines.

The Nova Guards remit, and subsequent remuneration, had both increased since the loss at the Yrgun Asteroids.  The Mining Guild had begrudgingly agreed to pay the extra to ‘Suppress and Deter’ the Prakith raids, but not wanted to part with the credits necessary to do any more.

Just as Kisaea had predicted.

400 Ailon Nova Guard were on the larger ships that now split off Felucca carriers to take them to surface.  Their tactics, training and equipment all superior to the Prakith VI First, Second, Fourth, Sixth and Seventh Cohorts - 2500 men -  that awaited them.

Yet the Legion was confident.  For with them stood Six Great Shadow Lords, each worth a hundred soldiers, and Six new ‘Lesser’ Shadow Lords.

Kisaea and the other former Ailon slaves knew the Nova Corps tactics intimately, and waited with vicious anticipation to use that knowledge to take their vengeance on the insect like humanoids.

Ninth slowly came up behind her, the shadowy bulk of the Remnant Aethan less intense now Kisaea wore her own Oblivion armour.

Divided by centuries, the Aethans were reunited by their hatred for outsiders.

“Aethani Dominabutir Astris” Ninth recited over the newset and most valuable asset to Purgatio Astra, and the proof that there may be more Aethans yet alive. Crude and unsophisticated as the Tribals culture was, they were still biologically Aethan with all the carefully designed martial prowess and assuredness of their racial superiority that entailed, it took little effort to turn them, already harmed for decades by the Outsiders, to the task of Purgatio Astra.

“Gloria in Excelsis Aethani” Kisaea and the People responded as the trap laid for the overconfident Ailon was sprung.

<<<<<>>>>

[TheDutchman]

The Oblivion Gray Chapters
And so we see the violent conclusion, both sides denied complete victory while the casualties mount...

In each scene, both Cataphract and Aethan combatants are driven by their ingrained ideologies, their Codes as much a part of them as their own hearts.  No wonder that Valens kept the details hidden from Kazic, not only due to the adversity faced by his Aethan "allies" but also to hide the fact of their true motives.  And--courtesy of Anson's Flow Walking--we see just what a tantalizing prize that Xinis'Zo's Holocron presented, enough to help obfuscate the survival of the Triarch and his Cataphracts.  And while, yes, the War was fought between two sides, it is the individual skirmishes that truly illustrate the disparity between the conflicting groups.

And the losses suffered.

Given all of the deaths that the Cataphracts endured, the worst were most certainly the Cataphract's Heart (Ravra) and Soul (Soban).  Absolutely EXCELLENT writing & plotting here; I can definitely see why the Cataphracts of Szammas' time are missing a certain vitality and spirit shown in Nurhl's Troikas.  Just as evident is the strengthening of the Aethan's xenophobia, best illustrated by Ari's realizations (and paranoia) that Kazic's motives were NOT as laudable as she'd first given him the benefit of doubt for.  It's as haunting a character study as it is as dynamic an action piece.  Speaking of...

The fight between Jarys and Nurhl really best exemplifies the lines drawn in the sand, how each perseveres as a manifestation of their beliefs and their trust in their comrades.  Interesting that the Jarys/Nurhl battle echoes that of Valens/Anson, with Nurhl coming out MUCH better everything considered.  But where Jarys' faith in his fellow Aethans is further supplemented, Nurhl's own experiences with Anson and, more importantly, the thing that he becomes shakes his confidence in his Kage to his very foundations...a secret that not only he but indeed the Cataphracts as an entity will guard in the centuries following the Civil War to the First Jedi War.  It is, unfortunately something that will shape BOTH sides of the Vhal'Dan for decades to come.

However, each Triad--from the Corellian Crash Cresh to the Clergy, from Lil' Nern's to Midge, from the Barabel twins Rana & Rena to Villados--was a character given life, an episode in their lives during the worst that the Civil War had to offer...THESE were the details that separated Oblivion Gray from being a "mere" war story, rather it strikes straight into the heart of each groups' motives, their concerns, going far beyond the mundanity of words on a page and the depth of the story that any Star Wars movie/show would be lucky to demonstrate.

Yes, Kazic "won"...but not without heavy, HEAVY cost...more a pyrrhic victory that even the Aethans experience given the outcome.  And as for Anson's side and the Cataphracts themselves...what becomes of an entity bereft of its Heart and Soul?

I think that those answers will be seen in the stories yet to come 

Remnant Part 6
Back in the Prakith Territories, we FINALLY see the reunion between the Remnant and more of the Lost, both almost as much a stranger to each other as compared to other Outsiders.  But what does the Purgio Astra mean to contemporary Aethans in general, and the Ailron Six in particular?  Will the appreciation of the Six from their enslavement translate to Loyalty to the Remnant?  Do the Remnant truly feel that present-day Aethans are their inheritors...or merely another group in a galaxy to be conquered?

And what will happen when the Empire of the Remnant come into conflict with the Aethans or the Mak'Tor or the Vhal'Dan?

Meta-note
No surprise that this is my favorite Aethan Story already, but with the expansion of their time as Kazic's "Shadow Demons" during the latter part of the Vhal'Dan Civil War, this has truly been a treat, both working with LSG as well as learning-as-I-read those chapters^^

And the posters are nothing short of phenomenal!

AWESOME job, LSG!

[Lord_S_Gray]

Chapter 49 — Trinity — Unbreakable — Part 1

“Up kriff lickers!”

Eyes opened to artificial light triggering a moment of disorientation as he waited vainly for the follow through a jab to the side by the Overseers electro-staff.

Tickling pins shot up through his body as it hit with as much indifference as a slave master could muster.

Rising up as best he could he hobbled over to the blocked rusted booth where the droid handed out the electro-picks.

With the same indifference it passed him the one with the three chips on the front. Over the years he’d had every electro-pick so often he was nearly at the point of naming them.  There were 312 in all, and all had outlived twice that many wielders.

This was one of the better ones, it still had some bite into harder veins and didn’t sink into the loamy rock as much.

The humidity cloyed constantly reeking of sweat and defecation from the dozens of others as he hobbled along.

Hobbled because the shaft was only 1.5 metres high – at most – there was no incentive to dig out the pit any higher unless there was a vertical vein of ore.

Vertical veins were rare.

The slaves always slept in a depleted shaft nearest to the new cuts in an ever downward spiralling mine with galleries cut out at junctions branching into every more twisted labyrinths seeking out the valued ore, the mag-tracks following behind them that took the ore and the overseers up, and brought new slaves down, never took them back up.

”It’s dangerous, as soon as its out get it into the tube or it’ll blow your hands off”

He remembered that warning very well.  It was one of the first days in the reeking caverns, the first of hundreds picking, toiling, hearing the occasional wet explosion as a hot vein was pierced blasting the others to pieces.

Bodies of slaves were eaten after they were killed after an unlucky strike on a gas pocket in a heated coaxium vein that ignited when it reacted with the drenched oxygen

It was not luck that had kept him from such a fate – no matter how many times he might’ve wished it found him – the aether trickled painfully up his back when he neared a dangerous area. 

He would stop, refuse to go in, and accept the beatings and reduced rations as the price for keeping his life.

Today was one of those days.

He paused at the entrance as the other slaves slid and slopped past each other, leather, fur, scales, skin wet with moisture and stinking of sulphur from the barely vented gasses that seeped from the rock.

His spine ached painfully telling him this was going to be a big explosion.  There was no point saying anything to the others, their lives meant nothing to him, and his meant nothing to them.

When he had begun he had tried to make ‘friends’ with those who shared his suffering, only an old man showed any kindness till he was killed over a scrap of barely edible gristle.  Since then he defended his food, chipped away at the ore and did little more than that.

“Ay!” the overseer called, his bloaty cream coloured body riddled with so much sweat it looked he had just jumped in a river.
“You get in ‘dere or you get da….”

His sentence was cut short by the burst of heated air that floored them both from further down the shaft carrying the wretched stink of cooked flesh and melted bone with it.  At least he would eat some meat.

He was growing too weak not to take every protein he could…pushing onto his scrawny arms, bone visible through the taught skin he coughed out the smoke and closed his mouth to try and limit the vapour he inhaled.

Slowly but surely he stood…or crouched as that was all the tunnel allowed, his face wet with something, his back bone dry from the heat wave.

“how…uhhhckkk…how you know…always ye know!” the Overseer rasped

“Yousa did this…yousa one o’dem Sons!”

<<<<>>>

What these ‘Sons’ were he did not know.  He didn’t know anything much. 

Didn’t know why they came in the flying carts, why they fired lightning from sticks, set fire to the Village…why he was brought here in metal boxes, what this Coaxium he mined was used for, what the names of the strange animals that walked and spoke were.

Arryn didn’t even know how long he had been here.

Yet for the first time as he stood hands clasped beside his head on the other side of a stockade that also clasped his neck painfully, he finally had time to consider these questions.

The stocks had a sign in the rude and only occasionally symbols the othersider used that said something in the local pidgin he roughly translated as ‘Sons Get This’.

He was stood at a junction, the other slaves heading past in every shift, encouraged to hit him by their overseers.

Some hurled faeces, some stood beside him and squirted fluids from all kinds of body parts on him, others simply pushed him over.  It was always followed by a brief bashing from the overseer.

“This is the Sons of Kessel y’see, they free slaves by killin’em!” they would chide.  He still did not know who Kessel was or what this Kessels Sons were.

Eventually the overseer grew bored with his torment in the stocks. 

He was let free by having his hands on the other side of the rusted metal holes cut off.

<<<<>>>

The pain was constant.  A niggling twinge in every digit that scratched at his mind and scraped with every motion.

In place of his hands an outsider with enormous eyes and a tiny head fixed by chop shop surgery with drills and gunk covered pliers metal stumps to his vacant stump wrists, metal wires pinched onto nerves that had once ended at his fingers.

No longer would he be allowed to continue his so called ‘sabotage’ in the mines.  Now every day his stumps would be penetrated by sharp painful electrodes that connected him to the Coaxium refining machines in front of a wall of hissing and popping machines that injected, froze and sealed the Coaxium in tiny tubes.

His new ‘hands’ let him interface with the Coaxium refining machines directly with his brain, impulses that had controlled fingers now controlled coolant levels and conveyors. 

It made him ‘useful’ again.

And every time the cables were pushed into the sockets in his wrist he felt the same stabs of pain added to the endless itch.

Despite his mutilation he still clung to life.  Over another uncertain period of time he learned the process of controlling the refining machines, his neural plasticity sufficient to integrate the new sensations from his stumps to do so efficiently.

He kept the process going for untold hours, and grew bored staring at the same scene of moving parts before him.

He began to experiment with subtly different ratios of catalysts and acids in leach solutions as far as he could.  There was something innate in him that wanted despite the compulsion of his work to at least…Perfect what he was doing.

It worked.

At some point in the timeless depths of the caverns the new overseer began to give him extra rations, he was, it was said, more efficient than the droids that controlled the other refining lines.

He was moved to a larger line, unplugged and stabbed again to connect in a vast corridor of conveyors, the raw coaxium dumped in at one end as blob headed droids controlled their motion through peroxide solutions, and pressurization tanks.

The dim lights of the droids stared emptily at him as he gradually took over all their work himself, making the refining process ever more efficient and precise.

He was given more responsibilities, and more food.  He performed his role well, learned how to best control the machinery through what had been his fingers quickly and efficiently.  He used the aether to detect shatter lines in raw coaxium to better determine how much treatment each batch needed, improving quality by 15 per cent.

Of course they attributed this success to the Overseer, and she was promoted as a result. 

The Hylobon overseer however did not forget the source of her success, and an unspoken agreement of sorts was determined.

He went with her into her new role overseeing the shipping rather than refining, was plugged in to the navigation and traffic control system, an Aethan mind far more powerful and faster than the junk droids they had previously used he soon dramatically decreased traffic blockages and turnaround time of freighters hauling the coaxium. 

In exchange the Hylobon gave him ever more privileges, access to a few books, a healthy level of food for a normal sentient – albeit still too low for an Aethan.

Nonetheless he grew stronger, and stronger…and smarter…and smarter. 

Over the months staring into the screens charting approach vectors, orbital parabola’s, shipping manifests and order quotients to be filled he began to find ways to access other systems, to break through firewalls and peer into the ‘holonet’ – at first he saw only what others accessed from the mining station whose name he finally learnt was Savareen – mostly the bored guards were on gambling or ‘adult’ sites that sickened him, but eventually he found a way to access information of his choice.

He looked, looked so hard for any mention of Aethan, People, Guardian’s…but there was nothing to be found on Holoogle or any other database he could access.

Instead to fill the boredom as his tasks became routine and easy despite the endless pain in his stumps, he simply began to Learn all he could about the Hutts, the Republic, the Galaxy, the Outer Rim, and the Pykes whom he discovered his overseer served.

And more he learned about the technologies he was working with, the Coaxium, the ships, the computers.

Again he increased the efficiency, cargo loading turn around times decreased 20 per cent, earning his overseer ever more plaudits.

“You Do well,” the Hylobon would say as he sat in the control room he never left upon an open long drop toilet, his only other visitor a mute and blind creature of some sort that would feed him every few hours.

“We both profit from these things, perhaps soon we find even better employment,”

“Perhaps” he croaked with a voice unused to speaking for months on end.

<<<<>>>

One day his chance came.

The long range three dimensional radar array lit with unexpected signals, ungainly flying vessels filling the void that he had never seen.

Their course was not for docking, but to surround and cut off the primary and secondary exit vectors.

Something was badly wrong.

Alarms sounded, the aether filled with fear and confusion, weary but focused minds soft from boredom asserted themselves to take control.

Savareen was under attack.  By whom and why he did not care.  He saw the approaching vessels in his mind more than the screens now such was the depth with which he could control the signals that painfully an up his arms every moment in place of physical sensation.

The entire station shook with tremors as its shielding was struck by ingenious boot leg ion weapons strapped haphazardly to pirate hulls.

He felt through the computer network the response, saw through every security camera the movement of the guards, felt in the aether the surprise as the slaves in the mines below were locked back in their sleeping tunnels.  Some even felt happy at the extra break…unaware that a stray blast breaching the shield could trigger a shockwave that would collapse the tunnels and snuff their lives out in an instant.

The automated defences turned to seek firing arcs…these he noted would fail, the cogitators and processing systems were poor and slow, decades out of date turbo lasers and software not updated for years allowing scrap code to build up in the caches clogging memory.

If he did nothing the whole mining complex would be destroyed.  Yes the attackers intended to take it, but Arryn could feel the lines of the aether expanding further and further then shattering apart…some stray bolt would hit the wrong exterior pipe that old with rust and neglect would cause a breach down into the refining levels, the raw Coaxium would be jolted and spill out, the heat soon turning it volatile and as the pirate celebrated their taking the command centre the entire place would be vaporized as the Coaxium had its revenge for being so cruelly plucked from the mantle over the centuries.

If I do nothing, I die…and they die with me….

Aethan cognition sat for long moments in contemplation that lasted mere milliseconds in time that outsiders experienced. 

Arryn wanted to live…but desperately wanted to harm the outsiders as well – for destroying his village, scattering his family and friends, defiling the sacred Valley with their presence, for attacking Females.  All this even before what had been done to him personally which paled in comparison to the violation of his home world and the women there.

As another millisecond ticked by and the green sweep along the radar twitched the pirate signals closer he tried to look to what would be…

He was not a Seiðr, had never had much ability of foresight even before being taken…but he sought it now.

He looked past the immediate flames of destruction about him, seeking the alternate reality that might be.

He saw flames again…but unnatural ones, shimmering green and blue and not in crackling flecks like a fire place, but pure balls of energy. 

His mind’s eye recoiled at the sharp brightness in the centre yet was drawn on…to see…thee dark shadows within, firm footed and united as brothers, one with…

Stumps like his own instead of hands…

Is this what might be…myself and two others to set the outsiders ablaze…

His decision was made.

He twisted in his stumps to the sockets more painfully than ever as he breached completely the firewalls he had only gently pried pen before, eyes closed his full six levels of consciousness went to work with more speed than any of the computer processors in the entire facility to take control of the automated defences.

The battle was one he could see only in his mind.  It was a series of complex trajectories and vectors determined in his head and plied into the turrets as he integrated the shatter lines in the aether to determine where to fire and when.

It was all pure mathematics and logistics in the end no different to managing the ore refining or cargo unloading. 

One by one he brought the pirates where he wanted them by shepherding them into kill zones by lacing vectors he did not wish them taking with turbo laser fire, saving the few missiles for when they were too close to veer.  The Overseers and the guards sent out fighters he could not control directly, but they seemed intelligent enough to mostly focus on the ships he weakened.

What explosions and death he caused he would never know, from his view fed by packets of data alone the only confirmations of damage he received were radar pings of multiple objects instead of whole ships.

Lost in the coordination effort he didn’t know how much time passed before the reinforcements dropped in at the edge of the system.

<<<<>>>

[Lord_S_Gray]

Chapter 49 — Trinity — Unbreakable — Part 2

“So…” Capo Unay Skii hissed through the rebreather as he walked the length of the Savareen mines overseers and guards, two Sentinels behind him…a dozen more behind the line up.

“The attack was repelled…but not it seems due to your lax efforts,”  he paused in front of one Hylobon overseer

“You’ve grown soft with the ease of this assignment…your recent success in improving Coaxium purity and decreasing transit costs…and my rewards for such…made you complacent and lethargic.”

The Pykes had invested in the Coaxium mine to ensure they had their own supply rather than relying on expensive republic firms or worse the Hutts, things had looked up recently as quality improved and costs dropped, but this latest pirate raid showed their success had attracted other envious eyes.

Perhaps we should stick to spice… he mused

“Nonetheless, the facility is safe, although in dire need of an upgrade, and I will reward those who preserved it.”

A sense of visible relief washed across the overseers. Fools his face twitched in joy beneath his mask.

<Fire> he ordered through the sub-vox

In swift and deadly precision his sentinels presented, aimed and fired a broadside of green into the overseers backs sending them all toppling to the ground…apart from one or two more resilient species whom his sentinels soon finished off with vibroblades as they cried and pleaded.

“Bring in the creature,” he gestured, a far door to the hangar bay opened and a wretched looking human with metal stumps in place of hands was wheeled in, legs weak from inactivity. 

The face was gaunt even for a human slave and the eyes never seemed to stop moving.

“You breached the firewalls and took control of the defences,” Unya Skii stated

“You were also responsible for the increase in productivity before that…you show far too much ability and competency for a regular slave who are you?”

Arryn looked at this next in the long line of overseers who would use him and saw the branching threads of the aether coalesce.

“Merely a being that wishes to live, to eat well, to not be beaten and mutilated further,” he replied honestly.
“So I serve as well as I can to that end,”

The Capo chucked in his helmet

“An pragmatic slave…I could use one such as you,”

Indeed he could, the Vigo Xithar and his cronies were muscling in on the Spice trade in the core, and doing so quite effectively, this Xithar seemed to have a preternatural ability to know just how to slice his enemies off at the knees.

“How would you like to leave this rotting hole?”

<<<<>>>

His state improved drastically.

For the first time since being taken he was given sufficient food, a modicum of dignity, and if not respect then at least acknowledgement of his usefulness.

His tasks were varied and numerous in the confines of a building near the Pykes Palace on Oba Diah.

At first he was assigned to determine improvements to the overall spice distribution network. 
The system was vast and complex, from mining on Kessel – finally he had learnt just what Kessel was – refinement and distribution was carried out by innumerable smugglers and traffickers to the ‘Republic’ a multi system loose confederate of some kind with wildly different rules in each system – Spice was illegal in most systems, but permitted in others adding to the complexity.

Plugged into a databank full of transaction records, navigational information and data dumps of known associated from personnel and intelligence files the Pykes kept he devised algorithms to select the best couriers for certain routes, how to select smugglers based not on their boasting but on their results and their ships capability.

He devised for the said smugglers new and better routes to follow, to maximize the number of systems supplied for minimal fuel consumption, reducing cost and increasing profit by 14 per cent – considering the Pykes revenue had been flat in the wake of the Black Suns growth it was a substantial boost.

Arryn was given a small room annexed to a server room kept artificially cool for the super processors, and a tiny mute furred creature of some kind to serve the needs he could not meet without hands.

Over the years he had easily developed his telekinetic skills to compensate for the loss, but he had no desire to show the Pykes those abilities.

So far as they knew he was some kind of autistic savant that so long as they kept well fed and comfy in a little box would pump out useful data analysis and advice.

If Arryn had any complaint it was that he was not able to access the holonet any longer, they ensured he only made use of offline databases. 

For the most part he was left alone, there was no need for the Pykes to visit him, or have him guarded as he continued to fulfil whatever task the capo assigned him.

The successful defence of the Savareen mine inspired the Capo to have him look into rewriting the automated defence scripts for other facilities – this required allowing him access to one of the Pykes Shadow-Holo Networks – he made sure not to try his luck.

One by one he analysed and improved upon the standard defence programming, rewrote protocols for docking and scanning, cargo loading and unloading as well, indicating on the reports where new turrets or missile encampments should be based, or where they needed to be replaced altogether.

The Capo no doubt resented the additional cost that would entail and refused to do so content with just the enhanced defence programming.

That was until the Sons of Kessel - the real ones - assaulted a deep space hub. 

The automated defences cut into their first wave effectively, but the turbolasers were poorly maintained and began to sputter and fail against the second wave, indeed some inexplicably exploded of their own accord which even Arryn felt strange.

Shields disabled, the crew of the station were easy prey to a small squad of commandos.

It convinced the Capo that Arryn’s advice should be followed with regard to upgrades and repairs whatever the cost.

His reliability and expertise proven he delved himself ever deeper into the Pykes trust.  Arryn had always been patient, and the knowledge that one day he would find a way to kill not just the Pykes, but billions of outsiders allowed him to endure his isolated existence.

<<<<>>>>

Time passed in an endless sea of the same events, rote tasks that caused him nothing but boredom once everything was ‘perfected’ as far as he possibly could.

His tasks were expanded to not just the ordering, but design and modification of security systems, then ships, all kinds of mining equipment.  By necessity he was given more access to the Shadow net to research, so long as useful innovations came from his tiny cell they cared not what he searched for in between.

He learned about the larger galaxy, strange events and groups, a near mythic cadre of warriors called ‘Jedi’ whose reputed powers reminded him of the Guardians of Aethas.

Little changed except the Capo, on each bi-yearly visit, grew fatter and his jewelry more gaudy as Arryn’s logistical and increasingly technical genius made him richer and richer, over four Cycles, Spice output increased by 25 per cent, slave ‘shrinkage’ decreased by 15 per cent as Arryn changed the suppliers of nutri-paste to a better provider.


‘Time’ only restarted from this floating existance when news came through that Vigo Xithar of the Black Sun had been killed on Ord Mirit and the Vigo Aur Hondo on Ando. 

The Black Sun’s two leading Vigo’s dead within weeks of them defeating the Sons of Kessel, and the Jedi and Republic Security forces otherwise occupied with a terrorist attack on Coruscant, the underworld of the galaxy exploded into turmoil.

The Capo seized his opportunities carefully, never failing to clarify with Arryn the limits of their logistical capacity to hold and utilize former Black Sun facilities and trading routes.

Hooked into the Pykes intelligence feed directly Arryn all but dictated strategy to them, the Capo taking all the credit.

Where there were failures it was in tactics, the Pykes ground troop reliability inconsistent at best.

Regardless there was overall success...one of the more interesting acquisitions was a Naquadah mine.

This was Arryn’s one manipulation, the resource known to the galaxy as Naquadah, an ultradense mineral of extraordinary energy potential, was known to him as Aquarion, abundant on his homeworld along with other Ultradense ores.

The People used Aquarion to enhance explosives in the mining of Blackstone and Greysleet, the outsiders fearful of the substance rarely used it for anything but trinkets and bespoke but powerful generators.

It was the latter he had briefed the Capo on the uses for - with their own supply and manufacture of Naquadah generators, for a large upfront investment they could switch over the majority of their other facilities from burning cheap Tibanna gas or other fuels to generators that had over the long term almost zero marginal costs.

The Capo however was aware of the explosive potential of of the Aquarion, and a small footnote Arryn included in his report noting the possibility of a Naquadaha enhanced Coaxium Bomb prompted the by now uncritical Oba Diahn to place Arryn in charge of the development of such a device.

Of course this required him to be moved out of his cramped hovel, delinked from the mainframes and given a new laboratory input.

He was moved to a more isolated facility, attached in a far larger room behind a blast screen to a new mechanised arms, integrated into a semi automated inventory system, given a pat on the head like the dutiful little pet he was and left to deliver for his masters once more.

<<<<>>>>

[Lord_S_Gray]

Chapter 49 — Trinity — Unbreakable — Part 3

A metal hand five meters from his body clutched in microscopic fingers he controlled with the phantom sensation of his ring finger a grav contained fragment of coaxium in the vacuum chamber.

His other dendrites selected the Naquadah in precise amounts, exactly 7 molecules, carefully shaving them apart from the mole he had in the sealed dish far from the coaxium.  The distance didn’t matter, the dendrites had long range.

Carefully he brought the Naquadah and Coaxium together in a ration of three molecules of Coaxium to seven of Naquadah – such precision micro-chemistry could create amazing compounds as the natural binding of molecules that would otherwise occur was prevented,

Now he applied a gentle current, exciting the electrons into higher states to enable valence bonding and ionic bonding to occur at different points, guiding the molecules into a precise arrangement with gravity micro-pulses controlled by what had been his little finger on the left hand.

His eyes saw all as they were pressed into spectral-tubes that relayed streams of data across multiple wavelengths to his brain.

Finally he set the new macro molecule down in a thin launcher, aimed on a single tract at another molecule of exactly the same formulation.

He had the dendrite limbs withdraw to the safety of their tightly wound containers.

Everything secure the blast shield came down over the miniscule reactants, heavy and dark, though showing a few convex bumps where his previous tests had been far too reactive.

Initiating the launch he saw through the data streams the two molecules launched at each other at incredible speed on the micro-magnetic track.

An instant later every sensor readout spiked past all prior maximum threshold.

The Blast shield cracked open with a brittle groan. 

<<<<>>>>

The Capo, now sporting fine Corsuca gems on his species unusually wide facial plate, was more than happy to accede to Arryn’s requests for the resources to produce the ‘Naqxium’ Bomb as it was termed in commercial quantities.

Arryn had served loyally and faithfully for countless years after all.

New modules were placed on the mine next to the reactor manufactory, specialised droids purchased, a new software to control them on the delicate tasks devised along with the means of manufacturing the bespoke molecules in sufficient quantities.

Arryn continued to ‘serve’ producing for the Pykes at first hand grenade sizes Naqxium explosives, each capable of levelling entire buildings, giving the Pykes agents an insurmountable advantage in the battle over the fractured Black Sun assets.

Hours to days to weeks he would toil, two levels of consciousness learning, two designing with ever more newly imparted information from Military engineers texts off the Shadow-Net,  A fifth thought level coordinating between the four and the last in a rest cycle – his stump hands ever burning with the electric signals that passed into his brain, eyes forever covered by the VR headset that streamed nothing but statistics and thin blue lined blueprints.

Demand for space warfare grade weapons followed soon after.  2 Missiles with Naqxium warheads demolished a Crusader Class Corvette in a fight over a refuelling station at a critical outer rim juncture, the first easily overloaded the shields, the second cracked the ship in two.

If Arryn had one key personality trait it was patience, the ability to be still and silent for long periods, to perform the monotonous tasks of crafting weapons with the same empty march of effort that had sustained him through the years in the mines.

He had learned from the loss of his hands, the forced cybernetic grafting that followed that he could not overpower the outsiders, could not fight the system of oppression that existed around him.

He could poison it from within.

With the Naqxium he had created a means by which outsiders could kill each other on a vast scale. 

The limitation now was the Capo himself - ambitious as the Pyke was his vision was limited to his own pathetic little corners of the Criminal Syndicate controlled Outer Rim.

The time was ripe to expand his own horizons.

The Capo had spent so much time spending the credits he never bothered too much with checking his own inventory. 

Arryn had managed to amass several hundred kilograms of Naqxium, that the Naquadaha mine itself was starting to run dry masked by his careful manipulation of stock take ledgers.

Even during his weapons design he had remained in control of much of the Pykes logistics, his departure was timed perfectly with a brief moment when their resources were spread to the maximal limits of their operational sphere, making any attempt to intervene impossible.

His control of the droids that moved through the airless vacuum walkways from the refinery to the laboratory was complete he only needed the slightest tweaks to implement his escape.

Closing his phantom fists tighter on the internal system he had been laced into so far many years he ‘squeezed’ the firewalls they had put around his intranet till they cracked, allowing his mind to interlace with the entirety of the mine and larger facilities systems.

The Pyke guards and labourers barely noticed the change to the atmosphere capable sections, slowly flooded with Carbon Monoxide rendering a large portion of the varigate species unconscious, other sections he let the oxygen concentration simply drop over the course of three hours.  Of 187 staff 173 were killed in silent suffocation.

The rest attempted to send panicked signals, finding the comms booster needed to transit outside of system without any power.

Arryn watched as three braver Pykes made to the airlocks to attempt a manual repair. 

He allowed them.  Then before they were ready unlocked the outer door.  The instant decompression sent them shooting from the facility into the cold of the void as the droids under Arryn’s control buzzed with confirmations as they loaded a transport with all but one vacuum sealed container of his deadly creation.

Calmly he waited as the Droids beat the remaining survivors to death, indulging just a little to take personal control and feeling some semblance of satisfaction and he relayed the command to place the necks in the dorid's vice like hands and squeezed.

The moment of risk was when he had to detach from the ports into which his hands had been locked in the console for half a decade. 

His skin peeled slowly from the head set, skin pallid and showing the pink and blue of his veins beneath, eyes adjusting slowly to three dimensions from its interface internment.

Forearms twisted and needle-like stabs trailed his arms as he lost the connection to the mainframe, a wealth of stimuli gushing out of his mind leaving his head for the first time eerily silent with its own thoughts.

In this new found isolation he waited for the programmed droids to collect him, tension and anxiety rising in his staggered breath as the lack of control of the situation, and the crippled weakened state of his body after so long slaved to the machines struck him fully.

He waited.

And waited

Then gasped for breath as the door hissed open and the blank faced two meter loading droid came to carry him.

He was taken through corridors he had only seen on schematics and green tinged security footage, the vividness of the colours having more to do with the novelty of it all than the true look of the drab interior.

Like a child he was carried to the freighter, placed on the uncomfortable metal pilot's chair.  reaching with what strength he could he attached his right hand to converter then inserted it into the scomp link to take command of the ship - his knowledge of piloting entirely from Holonet courses and a cargo hold filled with nearly 700 kilograms of one of the most explosive substances developed since the New Sith Wars.

But this - this was the least of his challenges to date.

Bone and muscle grinding work in the mines hadn’t broken him.

Mind twisting body deteriorating virtual enslavement hadn’t broken him.

As the Blue-green tsunami of his creation destroyed the mine and labs behind his ship Arryn reamined Unbreakable.

<<<<>>>>

[Lord_S_Gray]

Chapter 49 — Trinity — Unstoppable — Part 1

Klaxons blared deep echoing through the red emergency light bathed corridors of hard steel.

The last fights against the guards were petering out in vicious stabs of shivs, horns and tools.  It was only a matter of time before the Alpha Force arrived to reassert control over the Hyper-Max Prison.

Before that Juun was certain the newly free prisoners would turn on each other once they realised there were no ships on the lunar facility.

Their only chance was to take the Alpha’s ships when they arrived.

Alpha’s were Chandrilla’s elite police forces, captained by retired mercenaries who’d moved to the core – able enough to have lived and thrived in the war torn outer rim – murders rapists and thieves among the prisoners could only beat such men and women with a heavy toll in flesh.

Even so, Juun felt what Gnnor wished to do now was going too far.

“I don’t like this…” Luug, Juuns brood brother noted as they stood before the heavy blast doors lit now by the sparking blue of a plasma cutter.

“The plan has worked so far, and this is the final piece,” Gnnor replied, the Feeorin steadfast arms bulging with muscles crossed across his chest festooned with tattoos of his victims – he was the most feared and dangerous prisoner in here…bar one…

The one they now sought to free from his carbonite prison.

“We can’t control that psycho,” Juun added, standing at 2.5 metres tall, hardened from a life of violence and pain the reptilian barabel was rarely intimated but the stories of this prisoner…

“We don’t need to, once the alarms twitch the Alpha’s will focus all their attention on him, we sneak round the mess with the Trog gang and the Hunna sisters and take their ship.

Gnnor was smart…but not smart enough to have avoided getting caught seven years before and handed a sentence of natural life internment – in any other system what he had done would’ve earned numerous death sentences, indeed Eriadu and Commenor had demanded his extradition for just that purpose – he lucked out that Chandrilla did not have the death penalty and refused extradition to systems that did…

Gnnor still wasn’t crazed or violent enough to put in carbonite.

The door spat then slammed open violently as the key lock was breached by the diminutive snivvian, a former safe cracker having no trouble with these locks.  Luug headed forward and dragged the carbonite slab forward.

A hate filled scream was frozen in time, the imperfect blobs of sealed carbon casting eerie shadows in the red light as Gnnor stepped up to the control panel, in his left hand the head of the Warden still dripping with blood – one eye was gone but the other would do fine for the optical scanner.

[Release Requires three Senior Officers]  A scrolling message noted

“The others,” He ordered.

 Juun still felt the tingle from the stun blasts the second officer had hit him with, Luug still had the scratches from the chief of security – that bitch had fought well to drive her knife into Luugs snout before his tail slammed her into a wall shattering her ribs.

They propped up each head in turn before tossing them to the side.

As the high pitched whine of the release system began the whole moon seemed to shudder. The Alpha’s were here.

“Lets hope this bastard has no hibernation sickness…” Gnnor said already heading out

“We don’t want to be here when he wakes up.”

<<<<>>>

Smoke steamed from the chest of the trandoshans as Captain Ynarak strode through the hangar.

“Bay secure sir,” Lieutenant Tris commed “Establishing perimeter.”

He didn’t reply, simply looked around the hangar confirming the layout matched the schematics he had been given, apart from a few crates and a makeshift barricade now blown apart by his vanguards grenades it was all consistent.

Without a word Second squad began setting up automated turrets and electro fences just as they had planned, this was what they trained for.

They knew their ship was the prisoner’s target, but also their best way to end this riot – they would let the prisoners come to them – suppress and subdue the braver ones then wait out the rest behind their barricades.

It was not the ideal strategy, Ynarak would’ve preferred to void the whole place, or simply surround it and starve them out, but his superiors in Chandrilla Security believed in humane treatment of all sentients and so he was forced to play their game of ending the crisis as quickly and peacefully as possible.

It irked him, but he would manage, compared to the system wars in the rim this was nothing. 

For fifty years he’d worked his way up from green farm boy to Senior Captain of the Black Swords, a mercenary outfit that fought on whatever side was willing and able to pay.

But he couldn’t go like that forever, he was getting older, injuries niggling, at 75 he retired to the Core and found good work on Chandrilla in security, he may not agree with their ‘soft’ policies but they paid and the work kept him occupied in his retirement, and every now and then you got an assignment like this that brought back all those memories, offered a nice challenge.

“Sir, confirmation the Tier Three cell has been breached,” the intel officer Sydon called out.

He kept silent, a nice challenge indeed.

<<<<>>>

 A scream locked in place for the better part of ten years erupted into life buckling the metal around him as he fell heavily to the ground, dripping in sweat.

His mind felt full and mushy, head bigger than it should be, thoughts swirled like the tides on the beach he had sat with first his betrothed then wife, then children…then nothingness…metal, demons, goblins…

His chest heaved in and out gasping for noble gases that were not present before slowly settling to a secondary respiration mode. 

On his hands and knees he slowly came to himself – he was not where he had been before, this place tasted of desperation and hate in the aether - strangely not all his own.

Biology designed to survive and thrive quickly made hormonal adjustments to diminish and overcome the otherwise debilitating effects of carbonite freezing. On unsteady legs he stood

If I can stand I can walk…if I can walk I can run…if I can run I can fight…if I can fight…

Staggering slightly Lysan gripped a metal column for support, Aethan strength four times that of a trained human dented the metal without effort.

…outsiders will die.

<<<<>>>>

Gnnor waited as Luug fretted

“We should move now…before that maniac gets going…”

“Not yet…” Gnnor replied, trying to manage prisoners desperate to escape was like trying to herd kowakian monkey lizards…the Alpha’s were smart, they had the hangar secured and weren’t moving – a few gangs had tried to take them on – all were now either dead or in shackles again.

“When then?” one of the Hunna sisters – Juun could never tell them apart – asked – the Zeltron women had some kind of genetic disorder enhancing their natural telepathic and emotional strength…to the point the sisters had ended up indulging in enough twisted violent orgies with near comatose victims to be given natural life sentences.

“When the main game starts…” Gnnor said firmly arms still crossed

“I don’t believe the rumours about that one…three Alpha squads is ridiculous,” Ara-Torg sniffed through his breather, the Gand was unusually tall, no doubt why he led the criminal clan.

Juun doubted the stories told about this ‘Lysan’ character as well, it was said he started a personal war against the whole galaxy, was building nuclear weapons when caught raving about Outsiders, Goddesses and revenge for ‘People’, supposedly he’d killed three Alpha Squads single handed before being brought down, allegedly they had even asked for Jedi help. 

Juun had never seen a Jedi and frankly doubted they were real, more a story to try and scare criminals into compliance with threats of mind tricks and telekinetic tortures.

There was a rattle outside the Library they had barricaded themselves in, the heavy shelves propped against the door rattled while they waited.

<<<<>>>>

His trembling fingers clasped the warbling multi eye stalked face and dragged it out.  It thrust a weak shiv into his naked chest, the instrument not strong enough to cut through hyper-keratin skin genetically designed to resist vibro blades.

Gripping the skull he squeezed until it popped.

He sniffed but found there was no nutrition in the meat exposed for him.

Hungry growls rumbled from both his stomachs as Lysan stalked toward the next glow of bio-thermal heat he could see.

<<<<>>>>

“NETS!”

Irril and Corv responded immediately pivoting to the left and firing the crackling stun nets over the barricade.

It landed on the mix of prisoners , their ramshackle ‘shields’ that were simply half of a table or chairs not protecting them from the electrical stun nets that sent them twitching to the floor.

Ynarak remained unmoved standing on top of the Transport occasionally deigning to fire his pistol with unnerving accuracy into limbs or tentacles as the latest lot of attackers fled back into the complex.

“Numbers?” he finally spoke

“48 unconscious, 62 further targets across four raids,”

He chewed on that.  The entire prison population was just over 350, checking his scans from the orbiting satellites and internal sensors he detected 532 life signs, subtracting his men and the guards on roster that left around 215 prisoners alive - the balance of 350 less 110 they’d seen must have been killed in the escape or among themselves.

“Third and Fourth Squad remain here, Fifth stay in the ship, First and Second with me, we move to Safe Room 11-C.”

<<<<>>>>

Shorca had a good set up.

Working in the kitchens when the riot broke out he’d managed to seal himself in one of the walk in refrigerators with a few of the more sane inmates and was making a tidy trade with the stores of food as the lock down went on.

He knew eventually the Alpha’s would re-establish control, but before they did he intended to get as many inmates indebted to him as possible.

Sure there had been a few starving thugs that had tried to barge their way in, but the double door and sanitation room in between provided the security he needed. 

A quick hack through the front door meant he could trade through a slot, and if any breached the outer he could trap them behind the inner door and flood the chamber with undiluted cleaning agents.

“Shorca,” Jez grunted, the Gotal sensing the approach of another customer.

There was a loud bang on the door, Hurik peered out into the disaster area that was the open plan kitchen and mess hall beyond, drawers and cupboards flung open where they had grabbed whatever seemed a likely weapon.

A shadowy figure stood behind the door sniffing and drooling for the food within.

“What you got ta trade? Stimms, Death Sticks, Deebs?” Hurik asked behind the outer door as Shorca put together a couple of frozen nerf steak and hubba mash potions in anticipation of the trade.

“Food…” came a growling voice

“Yah food laser brain, what you got? Put it in the slot!” Hurik demanded

Instead they ‘customer’ banged on the door hard.  Very hard.

“Oi don’t make me come out there!” Hurik sneered,

Instead Lysan came in there. 

All the force he could muster he shouldered the door inward crushing the dull Hurik between the inner and outer doors.

His tentative grip on the aether recovering he tore the inner door open telekinetically.

Shorca was ready.  Jez was gripping his head - the gotal’s conical horns on his head that served as electro magnetic sensors feeling the painful build up of charge just before it was unleashed.

Stronger than he had desired lightning flew from Lysan’s hand frying Shorca, his wiry weequay body dropping in convulsions as every electrical neural path in his body went into a state of hyperactivity.

Lysan too felt a painful backlash from using the aether while his head was still reeling from the hibernation sickness. 

Jez felt his horns about to explode as the pain overcame his senses.  Noticing the last of the outsiders Lysan merely snapped the creatures head off before dropping to the hard icy floor surrounded by shelves stacked with neatly labelled boxes of food.

So hungry he didn’t care the food was barely above freezing he began eating.

<<<<>>>>

[Lord_S_Gray]

Chapter 49 — Trinity — Unstoppable — Part 2

Concentrated Stun fire put the last two down.  Precise marching, checking corners and sweeping side doors advanced the squad down the offices.

Ynarak followed behind his pistols still holstered as his Team secured the entrance to the safe room.

Inputting the override the heavy blast door slid open to reveal a few dozen of the office workers, half a dozen guards and the warden uncomfortably crammed inside.

“Finally!” the puffy balding warden huffed, a head shorter than the tall motionless Ynarak
“What took you so long...pah I don’t care, take me to the transport,”

Silence met him.

“Well!” the Warden demanded sweat stained patches visible on the synthsilk shirt that clung to his rotund figure beneath a pink rounded face.

“There will be no transit off the Prison until all prisoners are secured,”

“What you…”

Ynarak resealed the safe room, content they were secure within, ignoring the wardens rambling the and other occupants sighs of resignation.

“Forward,”

<<<<>>>>

Lieutenant Tris spun round to open up on the catwalk above, butt pressed tight to her shoulder she fired a controlled spray of three shots into the prison sculpted shirtless Chagrian who toppled to the grated metal of the floor.

They were making fast progress, her squad of twenty was divided into two groups of ten, the vanguard stunned, the rearguard cuffed, member swapped subteams every few blocs.

So far resistance had been mixed.  Her HUD linked into the Prison database and a facial recognition system, it scanned the Chagrian revealing he was a natural lifer. 

That was consistent with the pattern.

Those on 20 year or less sentences had, by and large hunkered down in their cells, willingly offering their hands to the stun cuffs, those with longer sentences were either…indulging in the lawlessness - they’d found a number of prisoners dead, or ‘used’ as they went...or trying to escape by overcoming her Alpha’s.

None had succeeded so far.

Their failure was a lack of coordination, they certainly had the numbers, and - despite the rigorous Alpha Physical Conditioning regime - sheer muscle to overcome them, but in the nexu eat nexu prison there was no sign of unity - yet.

Ynarak had informed them all on the flight up here there had to be a mastermind behind this, the question was simply when they would reveal themselves.

Forming up they advanced down Forn Block in tight groups of three, keeping all sides covered.

At the intersection at the far end a body flew across their path leaving a trail of dark red blood on the grey industrial floor.

It was missing its head.

Holding up her fist they came to a stop, half their guns aimed at the intersection, the rest scanning around them as the handful of prisoners in the cells either side who had remained in their cells crammed themselves ever tighter beneath their bunks.

Completely unclothed apart from blood and what looked like blue milk stains on his skin was a man holding the Crolutes head in his hand.

He was not overly tall, muscular but oddly so, the pattern of muscles was not quite humanoid standard but suggested far greater flexibility.

Her HUD automatically placed a blue box around the face scanning through the database for a match.

The face that appeared was a snarling maw of pure hate lit with a red signal that said Simply [Sealed Internment] - meaning this was one of the prisoners deemed so violent and dangerous they were encased in Carbonite to slowly die over centuries - an effective death sentence for a system that officially had none.

“Fire!”

Lysan’s head twitched as the petty outsiders shot their wide area stun shots.

His stomach full at last he was hungry for more blood, and a way out of this warren of cells and petulant creatures.

The blue crackling energy blobs slid slowly past him as he wove between the slow motion progress of the stun blasts.

Moving into a run he felt his leg muscles twinge as his body recovered rapidly from the hibernation sickness stimulated now by the food he had consumed by the tens of kilo’s.

Tris saw a blur of motion, the scattering of the blood from the prisoners hands as they grabbed two Alpha’s and lifted them up...then slammed them to the floor with bone crunching force.

The Demi-gods reflexes increased with each passing second as gene forged repair mechanisms worked overtime in time with internal shatterpoint healing to massage muscles, loosen ligaments and rebind bones twisted slightly out of shape from being frozen in the same position for years. 
 
His fury pent up for the same time was unleashed as fists and grabs on the Alpha’s whose mere human reflex speed was four times slower than his own.

Helmeted heads were punched in, stun baton wielding arms spun round to snap at the shoulder, knees kicked in backward as the Alpha’s tried to land a shot.

They hit, but not hard enough.  The sheer density of Aethan skin and flesh rendered standard setting on stun weapons little more than static tickles.

By the time they had switched to higher settings half their number were broken on the floor.

Tris crouched biting back the bitter pain of the losses that blinked off her squad indicators on the HUD lining up a shot as the bestial creature spun with unnatural dexterity round an Alpha, put the soldiers head in his elbow crooked and twisted it near free.

Her charged stun shot hit the creature dead on the side.

Roaring as the electric overcharge cascaded a numbness down his side Lysan quickly spun out of his attack, leaping the higher catwalks, slamming through the cells and away as fast as he could.

“Captain…” Tris huffed into her comm
“Code Black,” 

<<<<>>>>

“That's our signal.” Gnnor said, rising up to his full height as the snivvians signal-sneak picked up the Alpha’s comm chatter.

With the monster sighted the Alpha’s would direct all their effort against that thing just as Gnnor had intended. 

It would still be a hard fight, and many would be lost - but so long as he escaped it would be worth it.

His crew eager or resigned stood, Juun moving the heavy shelf currently barricading the library door.

“We make for the hangar through Cresh Block, they’ll have already been through there so are unlikely to double back, hole up in the officer - they would’ve swept those first - then when the shooting really starts we make our move.”

<<<<>>>>

Finally the end game was starting.

Ynarak pressed to the wall as he spied a clan of Gand scutter past, his hand by his side flicking battle cant signals.

On the closed fist First Squad snapped round the corner, disciplined concentrated fire unleashed into the back of the diminutive creatures.

Half flopped quickly, the others had, as Ynarak was well aware of the little mites, a bevy of dirty tricks and make shift explosive.

He wove through the short skirmish grunting as shrapnel hit his leg plates, grimacing as shivs were thrust at his abdomen but never once stopping until the clan were arranged along the side of the access corridor unconscious and linked by force-chains.

“lieutenant report,” he demanded swiftly

“No further contact Captain, two more blocks under control,”

The Code Black was a red Flitterer - a diversion, no one could plan this from inside carbonite, the mastermind had let the beast out of the frozen block to draw all the Alpha’s fire.

Ynarak growled as they moved forward past a clutch of cowering prisoners waving a white sheet in surrender.

It was a good plan, the damn code black would draw his fire.  Information on the target scrolled through one side of HUD while on the other integrated filters narrowed down the likely leader of the prison riot to three.

The Code Black was one ‘Lysan’, Metahuman Stage 9, deep freeze for coming perilsously close to building a Hydrgoen bomb in an Advanced Chemcisty lab he had ‘occupied’.  Ynarak remembered that, a few years ago while he was on leave, took out two Alpha squads before they finally had to mass bombard the building with high voltage Space Warfare Mines built to cripple capital ships.

[Force Powers Noted]  - Shavit…he didn’t have much equipment for that.

On the other screen he looked at the last three potential masterminds, one stood out, a Natural Lifer, Feeorin, body count larger than a Gen’Dai Marrow-Seeker.

“Gnnor…” he growled.

<<<<>>>>

“Gnnor!” Luug yelled as they dove between their makeshift mobile cover.

They had just reached the hanger, the Ixxo Pykes and Trandoshan’s had taken the brunt of early fire and diminished the Alpha’s supplies of grenades and stun nets, but taken down only one of them in return, there were 11 left.

“Get off, I’m fine,” the Feeorin snapped eyes always moving, they needed to move faster, the Code Black or the Captain could arrive at any second.

“You bitches do your thing!” Gnnor snapped at the Hunna sisters, their sultry crimson skin glittering in the stark white of the bay lights.

Covered by Juun they snuck best they could beneath the blue beams of stun shots to the far corner of the ‘no man's land’ between the Alpha’s barricades and their own.

Hunkering down the twins pushed out their combined Telepathic-Empathic strength on the nearby Alpha’s, male and female alike.

Gnnor remembered when the Zeltron twins had arrived, the number of lifers who thought they’d be easy to plunder as a twi’leki stripper in chains…the twins flirted with all the biggest players back then.  None of them survived a short trip ‘behind the sonic laundry’, the Zeltrons rapacious desire for ‘widow mating’ adding to the already unlimited sentence.

Now that power was turned to his use, lulling the Alpha’s on that side into a weary, lustful haze.

Shots from that side diminished in a minute.
“NOW!”

The Torg’s, a clan of Snivvians bounded across the floor to leap over the barricades.  Gnnor was a long term planner when the first of the Torgs had come in he’d put the Torg under his protection - five years later there were twenty of the damn rodents as more the clan was caught for their cyber-ransom and other tech crimes. 

They weren’t much individually as fighters, but a dozen of the clawed ferrets against four Alpha’s under Zeltron aphrodisiac influence were worse.

Ripping into the Alpha’s the Barabel brothers Luug and Juun leapt over after them and into the less affected Alpha's the powerful muscled reptilians bash on them with durasteel bars.  The Hunna’s were over a moment later shiv’s out, amplifying their power on new targets.

For brief triumphant moments Gnnor felt he had this won as he pushed out of cover into a charge.

Then the door behind him was torn open.

Half clothed, covered in blood and blaster buns, Lysan ran straight past the Feeorin toward the ship, Aethan speed outpacing the Feeorin in a moment.  Lysan indifferently smashed an Alpha at the closed ramp of the Alpha’s vessel and hammered the release.

Obviously it didn’t open. Gnnor sighed as he yelled over the scrum rushing to join him.

“It’s gene locked you dolt!” he mounted a barricade, kicked in the face of one Alpha, swept up the rifle and fired into one of the last not covered in rodent or reptile as the Zeltrons began to take grim ‘satisfaction’ from the victims still living.

Lysan’s still swirling thoughts solidified enough to realise this, psychometry and nascent telepathy filling in the rest

“..the captain,” he gargled more than spoke.

“Or two officers,” Gnnor pointed to two fallen downed lieutenants Luug and Juun were already beginning to strip for eye scans.

Their efforts were interrupted by the flare of blasts from behind them.

Ynarak with his two teams and a sense of cautious optimism came in behind the mastermind pinned at last.

“Him?” Lysan asked in a growl as Gnnor hit the deck.

“Him!”

There was a lot to be gained from having the unstoppable psycho on his side Gnnor figured.

Like a starving nexu chained inches from wet fresh meat Lysan surged forward as the hangar turned into a warzone, Turg clan, Barbel and Zeltrons firing captured weapons back at the Alpha’s who had him pinned, the Aethan weaving with preternatural passed through it all.

Ynarak had eyes dead on him as he drew his tremor sword, then slammed a button or an old device he never went into battle without.

Come on you bastard

The Tof Suppression field had cost him a years wage, but the devices ability to suppress the Force powers had saved him more than once in the System Wars of the Outer and Mid Rim - there was always some freak with a telekinetic magicka or wyrd to make their skin hard as stone.

Lysan ran straight into it, throwing punches hard and fast. 

The Veteran mercenary quickly realised the designation of this prisoner as Metahuman stage 9 was conservative, the speed at which he moved and ability to take hits from his soldiers stun shots with indifference incredible to say the least.

The lack of the aether would normally mean little to Lysan who was still drastically stronger and faster than the humans that made up the bulk of the Alpha’s. However with his body still reeling from hibernation sickness his reflexes were slowed without the shatterpoint healing patches that had kept him together.

Gnnor worked round the edges precision shots where he could, using his muscular tattooed bulk where he couldn’t to break the Alpha’s down.  His greatest advantage was as a ‘natural lifer’ he had nothing to lose by dying, being captured now would be a one way ticket to carbonite imprisonment.

Ynarak slashed at the creature with method and measure, cutting into meaty limbs that were far too resilient, but still taking too many hits in return - the mag-train like impact causing the familiar crunch of stress fractures beneath his armour.

Lysan slammed fist after fist into the hoary old Soldiers sides and chest, the clash of Alpha and prisoner about them reaching a turning point as the sheer numbers of Prisoners mixed with Gnnors obdurate strength and the Hunna sisters' nefarious mental powers overwhelmed the Alpha’s disciplined fire.

Stray bolts ratcheted into Lysan’s side temporarily numbing his left arm, Ynarak took immediate advantage, tremor sword straight into the Aethans skull.

The vibration weapon struck into the ultra-dense bone , Ynarak had made a simple, forgivable, but damning  mistake, putting great effort into the blow, but only enough to cut through an average humanoid skull.

Lysna’s right hand grabbed Ynarak’s wrist as the Alphas commander realized the error and tried to pull the blade out.  Lysan squeezed crumpling the humans bones, rising up with a tremor sword still lodged in his skull, he released the wrist to jab straight at the Soldiers face, cracking the helmet with the first, then breaking the nose with the second, before flooring Ynarak with the third jab.   

Gnnor looked past the bludgeoning of an Alpha he had pressed up against a barricade to see Lysan pull a tremor sword from his head, break the Alpha Captains arms and legs then start dragging him through the fighting toward the ship.

Absolute Freak the Feeorin thought, but a freak he now had to ally with.

The Gand and Barabels were out, one of the Hunna sisters looked dazed, the other limping, but the Alpha’s had pulled back, some crawling to escape.  Lysan indifferently strode past shoving the Captains face into the Occular scanner on the ships side, pressing the broken hand to the palm reader.

A red negative flared.
“He…he…” Ynarak laughed spitting out teeth already regrown multiple times over his life.

“You think I’d leave any escape possibility for you?”

“No,” Gnnor said coming up behind
“But you’d have one for yourself,” he took a chance and patted Lysan on the back
“The Sisters’ll make him talk,” Gnnor thumbed to the Hunna’s

Lysan glanced at the Zeltron with their pathetic pheromonal and arousal stimulating telepathic abilities, like all outsider things they were not even a sliver of the powers Aethan women possessed.

No they won’t he realised, the captain was too strong willed to give up anything from such trivial seduction.

Without warning Lysan snapped the Captains neck, Gnnor hissing and yelling as Lysan grabbed the quickly fading consciousness of the human, his own mind delving into the now spilled soup like contents of the man's life dragging knowledge, tactics, memories and feeling from the evaporating pool, Lysan’s Aethenaea Cortex jump starting with a neuronal burst from years of slumber to facilitate it messily, but still enough to capture what was needed.

“Grab the lieutenants they’ll know something,” Gnnor growled slowly moving toward the fallen tremor sword.

Lysan didn’t let him, bursting forward he planted a single blow in the Feeorins head cracking his eye socket, then rolling under swept up the Tremor sword to drive in the prisoners back.

The few members of the feeorins ‘gang’ fled, only the Zeltrons remained as Lysan ignored the outsiders moving to the ship to find the Captains secret entrance panel by the engines.

One of the sisters languidly slid up to him, pheromones and images of decadent trysts flowing from her.

“Let’s leave quickly,” she purred, unaware such abilities were utterly negated by the pheromonal binding Lysans wife Selaena had imparted so many decades before, yes the intensity had faded by the fundamental fidelity ensuring mechanisms were in place.

As the hatch opened and Lysan spun round it took only three quick motions of the Tremor sword to end the final two outsiders.

Clambering into the Alpha ship he keyed in the final codes to activate the consoles and systems, noting quickly on the display how many years had passed since his arrest for ‘Development of Weapons of Mass Destruction’.

Four standard years and 58 standard days the Outsiders had delayed him from his Goddess given quest to end all Outsider life in vengeance for their unspeakable crimes against People. 

But a Delay was all it was, with a ship, weapons and his hatred of Outsiders stronger than ever, Lysan was Unstoppable.

<<<<>>>>

[Lord_S_Gray]

Chapter 49 — Trinity — Relentless — Part 1

Day 5.328

I’m on the hill.  Scent of spring blossoms thick in the air. 

I can feel her warmth leaning against me even through the flaxen clothes.

“I’ll be going soon,” she says

“I don’t want you to…” I protest gazing at the deep orange sunset over the sea, the first shadows of night lit by coloured stars behind us.  Tomorrow I have to head back to my village, my betrothed to her Uncles for her trial. 

“You’ll join me soon,” she didn’t say.

I’m two years younger, taller, but not as strong, she parts from my embrace easily despite how I want to keep her there…to keep myself there.

Alarms ring out in my head breaking the dream, expanse fields and open skies replaced by cramped oily metal, moist heated pipes and fraying hazard striped wires exposed all around. 

There is no rest in these sleeping visions, only harrowing reminders of what I’ve lost.

<<<<>>>>

It’s been 7 months since I first sensed it. 

The trail has taken me deeper into the Region of space termed ‘The Waste’ – it is apparently located on the edge of the ‘Unknown Regions’ and ‘Wild Space’ – what these names mean I do not know – only that here Credits of some distant planet called Republic are not of value. 
 
I reached a place call Ennunous today, a station on a dry planet. Those I spoke with were largely unwilling to of talk of other ships going to and fro in the region and I lack anything worth trading.  The water is barely potable, even for me.

Finally I spoke to some old scavengers who had ‘Retired’ here from a place called Jakku – wherever Jakku is if this is better I do not wish to go there unless my path so leads me.

According to them two ships passed through in the last three months, one headed toward a place called Feen in the Unknown Regions, the other deeper into Wild Space. I must choose which to follow, on the limited description of the occupants I will proceed to Feen, the occupants of that craft were, apparently bedecked in more opulent fashion and sought to purchase sanitary products – none are available here, on balance it is more likely they are carrying living cargo than the other ship…

I can feel a thin presence here…yet sometimes…sometimes I wonder if it is not simply my imagination – sensing what I wish to sense….

I dreamed, I think, sometimes it is difficult to know, but the clear blue-green skies – those I have not seen for so many years it must’ve been a dream.

<<<<>>>>

Day 5336-5342

I reached Feen.  It is a port of sorts, once a mining rig on a large asteroid orbiting a gas giant, as soon as I landed I was accosted by a gang of beings whose species I do not know demanding precious metals in exchange for ‘watching’ my ship. With none to give I had to resort to a mind trick to placate them.

There was only one store here, run by a scarred blue skinned being, I had nothing to trade and said as much – the blue skinned being known as K’Lyka – I could not discern its gender if it has one – indicated I could earn supplies by my labour.  I was taken to an air lock and given a suit to assist in the mining of the asteroid.

It has long since been picked clean of the best seams, I worked for four days without eating or drinking slowly gathering a sense of place, one the fifth day I was able to sense a moderate deposit of diamond.

When I uncovered it with the pick one of the other workers attacked me – his power pick punctured my suit – fortunately I do not require oxygen as frequently as others – I smashed his head into to the rock and was then assailed  by others- I killed three more before the others fled to the station.

K’Lyka did not seem to care, the blue creature simply satisfied with the find – I turned over the larger portion in exchange for a full gas filtration on my ship and half provision of water along with 32 food portions. I kept a quarter of the diamonds for future use.

Satisfied K’Lyka indicated that a month ago a ship came through belonging to a wandering merchant of some kind – not just any ship a vast barge as large as a city it is said – and whilst K’Lyka did not see any being resembling the one I seek it is at least something.  It’s next destination is unknown, but K’Lyka has seen the vessel before and traded a mineral called Phirk with them – This is the only lead left.

<<<<>>>>

Day 5371

I had to abandon my ship and acquire that of the pirate who attempted to hijack me. 

I had been following a trail of mining worlds seeking the location of the Phirk, my sense of the target long since lost…sometimes I wonder if it was even real….

The Shadow Drive crashed out into an EMP web, a mechanical device clamped my ship and breached the hull – they assumed I could not survive in the void for long – I can if barely – I killed two boarders by the third managed to cut my left arm.

Breaking that one I entered the pirate’s ship.  For the next few hours there was a stand off, as I tried to move in deeper they would try and flank through the ducts or the corridors – they tried to gas me out then rush me – I telekinetically crushed three, shot the fourth, but the rest got to me – I barely survived the attack.

For the last two days I have been convalescing, there is little food to be had but to eat the alien creatures themselves. I hope I can pilot this vessel.

<<<<>>>>

Day 5389

I’m here again…the pain has subsided.

Uncle Taran is speaking to me, words and lessons I’ve replayed in my head so many times as I’ve tried to do what is right.

It is getting harder just holding on.

He’s showing me how to use the aether to heal myself.  But at home it was strong, a sea to bathe in…here it is barely a puddle.

“Where are you uncle?” I ask “Help me!”

Taran is a Guardian he should be protecting me…but he is too far.

“…bring the lines together, join that which was fractured…” his words are stagnant in my memory they cannot answer new questions.

The planet Ynnung is the source of Phirk in the Waste.

My arrival was difficult.

As soon as I exited Shadow Phase fighters attacked the pirate ship obviously believing me to be the pirates themselves.

I managed to crash into the atmosphere, I did not wish to fire and aggravate the situation. The damage was too much reaching terminal velocity I deployed the one escape pod then jumped out.

The aether slowed my fall enough to only break one leg on landing – Scrambling to a nearby gully I managed to hide as a small group of the local law enforcement inspected the site then flew away. I doubt they would’ve believed my tale and I lack the strength for a mind trick. 

From what I saw crashing there are some settlements to the far east at least 750 KM…It will be a long walk.

<<<<>>>

Day 5400

My leg has improved, the was no break as I’d feared. 

I came across a farm amidst the wide thin and dusty soils.  Absent any water I approached the farmer in the field. 

Fortunately this being, a strange creature with a bird like head and vastly oversized legs called a Felucian took pity on me and offered food and water.

It’s name is Rinnal, it lives here with its mate Sassin and offspring.  The juveniles found me most curious. After eating I immediately offered some diamonds I still had in my suit and to assist with Rinnal’s work.  He gladly accepted the latter but refused the former.  He explained as we worked the wide fields full of struggling rounded leafy vegetables that his Ancestors were refugees to this place escaping the Planet Crackers many generations before, and that they had a tradition of accepting and assisting any stranger who needed help as the beings of Ynnung had them.

He is a decent being, one of the few I have met.

<<<<>>>

Day 5403

I was almost fully recuperated.  The Yollettuce Rinnal farms is not nutritious, I must eat a vast amount which entertains the juveniles to watch.  In exchange I assisted with repairs to a harvester droid and tilling and fertilizing a new plot. 

Rinnal was amazed at the speed with which I performed the task as Outsiders often are.

It was later that evening a large caravan approached.  On horned 3 meter tall beasts it was a motely crude of various species in travel hardened clothes carrying well cared for Las-Arquebus.  Rinnal went to meet them, then guided them toward a shed, within was a vast amount of Yollettuce, by my calculation’s half his crop.

I thought this was trade, but the aether told me Rinnal gave over the produce with bitterness out of character for the peaceful farmer who reminded me so of my own parents, content with the simple pleasure of their life on the land.

Feeling the tension I approached, the leader of the Caravan of armed men inquired briskly who I was, Rinnal half lied saying I was a hired hand to help extend the fields.  The Leader noted that would mean an increase in his tribute next season.

After they left Rinnal explained these men served the local ‘protector’ a Chagrain name Hummun who offered ‘protection’ in exchange for a large part of each farmer and herders crop in the region.

This I explained was not protection but extortion, a true Guardian of the People, as Taran had taught me, did not take from those he protected, only requiring their hospitality under duress.

Rinnal had little to say ‘It is as it is and long has been’.

I slept uneasily with three levels of my mind that night.  I left half my diamonds and followed the caravan’s tracks.

<<<<>>>

Day 5407

I came to the local township. 

It has all of 32 buildings and a dirt circle for a space port with a ship a short glance can show is barely worthy of travel.

High above I could see a planet cracker in the sky.

For the first time in so many months I felt the touch I had been searching for again.

She was up there.

The local’s looked askance and avoided me even as I approached the general store, the keeper’s prices were high, he informed me for a further diamond that a caravan left for a larger settlement once every few weeks.  It belong to Hummun, I would need his permission to join it.

It seemed inevitable I would have to encounter this Hummun.

I soon found him in the street standing over a beaten being with four arms.

‘You do not wish to pay,’ The Chagrain said
‘You may Challenge instead!’ he drew a sword and tossed another to the broken creature.

I understood then this was a being who spoke only violence.

The four armed creature grasped it with all the futility it could before Hummun skewered it, his laughter echoed by his compatriots.

As I tried to slip away he caught sight of me.

He questioned who I was and how I came to His Territory without him knowing, one of his crew who had seen me at Rinnal’s farm whispered in his ear.

I despised this being, but had no wish to engage in a dispute, I simply needed to leave the planet and said as much.

Hummun ignored my request and demanded I pay a toll for travelling his land.

I refused.

Indignant he offered me the same option as the Four armed creature as eyes of the towns folk gathered behind grotty transparisteel windows.

He tossed the spare sword before my feet.  This being was full of pride and arrogance to challenge an unknown being, though given my emaciated and filthy look he had every reason to think me a vagrant -which in this system I was.

I picked up the blade and gripped both ends snapping it in two.  I know I am stronger than outsiders, but this blade clearly had been weakened intentionally.

“I will, when you provide an adequate blade,”

Hummun took this as great insult and loss of face, I had exposed that his vaunted challenges were unfair.

He quickly recovered and offered me his own blade, while he took a second from his mount.

“Now there can be no trickery!” he leered.

With a sigh I yielded to the inevitable. 

His form was good, his opening stance strong, upward slash controlled and precise.

It counted for nothing against my speed.

His arms were severed in one sweep, head in another.

“This is not the way!” I called
“To rule by fear and intimidation, arrogance and aggression,” I spoke not to his perplexed cadre, but the citizens of the town.

“Take back your pride, your goods, your lives…” my exhortation was ended as Hummun’s warriors attacked.

The fight was long.

I had to avoid their las-arquebus shots while fending off their chain-sword wielding warriors.  My speed allowed me to get through the melee, it then became a running battle through three buildings. 

I took a number of hits, but each time I used the aether to crush an enemy another five fled in terror.

Kneeling panting on the ground any hope I had the townsfolk would assist me was lost as the trader complained that having removed Hummun I left the whole region exposed to take over by more rapacious gangs that Hummun’s hegemony kept out.

The townsfolk began to pelt me with objects.  I quickly gathered what I could off the corpses and one of the riding beasts, felling as the sun set.

<<<<>>>

Day 5413-5418

Two days after I left a group of Hummun’s former warriors attacked.  They killed my mount under me.  I grasped two of them from their saddles and crunched them into so much meat.  The others fled and I chased more to grab another mount.

I followed what my senses told me was a route to the larger cities, the planet cracker in the sky both hope and terror.  At any moment it could leave and the Woman on board with it.

The terrain changed and became greener.

Camping under the cover of a copse I was meditating, attempting to draw on the weak aether here, to find some semblance of this lands Gods when I was awoken by a rustle.

I chased into the trees and found a small human woman pointing a blaster.  As I gestured my hands down to indicated I was not a threat a larger scarred man grabbed at me, we wrestled briefly, the vast male human astounded to have met more than a match in me.

I’m still barely half strength, but that still seems to exceed most humanoids.

I stopped the scuffle and said I was no threat, simply looking to reach the nearest city with a space port.

The woman said she and her brother were headed to Yng- Usha some days away, also looking for a way off world.  I could tell she did not lie, but she was hiding something.

I offered some of the little food I had and though keeping a watchful eye we agreed to travel together.  As a sign of trust I gave her one of the rifles I had taken from Hummun’s men.

We traded for food at a farmers market two days later, obtained advice on the safest path to the city.

There was more air travel over head, the odd speeder, the planet cracker remained in orbit thank the Goddesses.

The woman said her name was Ashli, her brother Rem, she explained why she wished to leave this world for a better life in a system I have heard of called Republic.  I said there was less safety amidst the stars than on this world.

As she slept I noted Rem did not speak.  I could feel a disturbed mind in his large body, and in his eyes the look of a remorseful killer.  I know this look, it is my own.

“You’ve killed…many haven’t you” I said

He simply nodded.

Two nights later my half rest was disrupted. 

There were numerous beings approaching from all side with intent, I guarded myself, Rem too readied.  Men in militia armour surrounded us demanding Rem be handed over to them.

I listened, Ashli had freed Rem from a cell awaiting trial for hideous crimes, the simple creature was clearly born strong of body but dim of wit, unknowing of the damage his large hands could cause.  Ashli wanted to fight - with whatever sanity Rem had left he knelt in surrender.

It is rare to see outsiders act with justice and rationality like this, strange it took a mentally impaired one to remind me.

<<<<>>>>

[Lord_S_Gray]

Day 5459 (Estimated)

They are called the Ssi-Ruuk.

A saurian race armed with strange weapons, they are my saviors and captors.

I was found - another captive named Yornul, an elderly man who seems to be the leader of the small band of twenty in the cell opposite – floating in a fused bubble of metal by the Raider ship, they were pursuing the Planet Cracker, but somehow it had left by the time they arrived.

I recall little after the final fight – The Solarri had me surrounded and backed into a corner, grenades and weapons breached the hull, I flew out…I grasped the ragged sheets of metal and wrapped them around me before falling unconscious.

The beastly reptiles patrol occasionally, there are Red ones horned with thick scales taller than me, and lowly ones, I can tell from their bearing even in such an alien species there is a class divide.

Yornul explained he is from a small agri-wrold, the Ruuk Came with a wide range broadcast – "Be glad! The joy that we bring goes beyond mere sensory happiness. Yours is the privilege of assisting the Ssi-ruuk in liberating the other worlds of the galaxy”

There is no truth in this, these beings take others as captives, and are rumored to drain their souls into machines. 

The cell I am held in is vast and empty, there are dozens more like it either side, it is clear they are at the beginning of a raid to take more captives.

The lesser brown reptiles deliver food and water, a trifling amount. 

Yornul holds no hope for his kind, his hope is simple he dies before being enslaved to the Saurians machines.

In the silence I tell him my tale, if only to offer some consolation that survival is possible – he listens and seems to empathize with my Peoples plight but remains convinced that there is no hope left here.

I will not stop, for 5000 days and more I have fought to find my People, my way home, pirates, marauders, animals, space worms, none have stopped me yet, these Ssi Ruuk will not now. 

He shakes his head, none have escaped the Ssi Ruuk

I will be the first.

<<<<>>>>

Day 5463

I grow in strength and understanding.

The Sssi-Ruuk minds are the most alien of all outsiders I have encountered, but I begin to understand.  They need other beings lives to power their vessels, they despise those not of their kind – this I can respect.

They are not dead to the aether, but they are not tethered to it strongly.  They do not realise I am using it.

Gradually I am understanding the nature of their language, it is comprised of whistles and clicks, the after images of thought in the aether are vague but I am beginning to

I can sense anticipation, we are approaching another world they seek to ‘Harvest’.  That is when I will strike.

Yornul watches as I meditate and prepare.   He asks if I am a Druid, a wielder of the elements, I say I am not, but among my own people I was training to be a warrior, a protector.

He asks me in deep solemnity, that if I fail in my attempt, will I use my Wyrd to kill him and his People rather than let them be ‘Enteched’.

I say I will pray to my Goddesses it is not needed, but I will honour his request if I can.

<<<<>>>

Day 5464

I awoke to the feeling or terror.

Terror I once knew myself when the Outsiders came to the Village.

I waited as the shambling machines marched past – I can sense the Ssi Ruuk have an aversion to foreign world not consecrated to their Blasphemous Gods, they do not wish to die on unconsecrated ground – I can use this to my advantage – the Red Saurain warriors would be a match for me physically, their ambots I can overload with lighting easily.

For the first time since Feen I see the light of a terrestrial world as the vast doors at the far end of the cell deck opened, shambling beaten and bloody creatures with three legs and bulbous heads dragged inside.

It was then I struck.

The aether slammed the button for the cage release and I lit my body in a lighting shield as I charged the nearest Saurian. 

It’s scales were too resistant, its weight too great to topple, but it found in me a remarkable challenge compared to the human it thought I was.   Redirecting I poured lighting into its snapping maw electrifying its mouth to its brain.

Some of the three legged things now fought back, Yorlun and the others rushed to help me.

The fight was quick but deadly.  My lighting chained through the square ambots overloading their energized weapon arms as they shambled on rusted legs.  I held the ramp down with the aether as we ran outside.

We were in a large clearing beneath the crimson sky, the ground littered with broken stalks of what would’ve been an enormous Fungi jungle, the ramps of half a dozen other Ssi Ruuk Vessels being filled with more captives.

I had underestimated, the Ssi Ruuk had more vessels than I believed or Yorlun had seen at his village.

I cannot fight them all…one ship perhaps…but not this many.

I did what I could, overloaded as many ambots as possible, hurled their sparking wrecks into the Red Warrior caste to delay them from striking me.  They are armed with stun weapons of some kind, they only want captives live as Yorlun indicated…fortunately my skin is able to take a few glancing hits without dramatic damage, Yorlun and his pale skinned people are not so fortunate.

As I fled into the Fungi jungle I ended those I could outright by bluntly severing carotid arteries – Yorlun among them.

I pray his Gods receive him even from this distant world.

<<<<>>>

Day 5476

The horrors of this universe know no bounds…after all I have seen, there is more.

I survived as best I could in the Fungi jungles – the life and aether flowed strongly revitalizing my body, I tapped the unconscious heart of the ecosystem to learn what to eat and drink.

The Gods of this world know I am foreign, yet know I am not here of my own will and have fought those that seek to harm its indigenous population.

I have come across two small villages…both emptied of beings, both next to large charred fungi stalks where the Ssi-Ruuk landed.

Whether this was before or after my escape I cannot tell.

The beings here had only simple weapons for hunting game, like my own People…they had no defense against machines and energy weapons.

It means the only quick way to get off this world is on the Ssi-Ruuk vessels.

There were stores of food left here, a few weapons and devices of use, in the centre of the village by a well a small shrine to a tentacle God.  The great tragedy I sometimes think is the loss of opportunities for learning and trade. 

I do not know these beings names, their Gods, yet I sit in their homes and east their food. 

I honour them as best I can, placing some food before the God after finding broken plates of spoilt food on the ground before it.

<<<<>>>

Day 5480

There is a pattern to their movements, they are heading from the jungles to larger population centers.

I hope to reach one in advance of the Ssi Ruuk…perhaps I can warn them.

<<<<>>>

Day 5482

The Djogetti almost slew me outright.

Only with the aether was I able to calm their nerves.

I was nearing what I sensed was a large beacon of life when I came across traps and snares – their scouts soon struck, I defeated the first two but spared them while trying to communicate. 

They do not speak basic.

The leader of the hunting party recognized something in me, there is a touch of the aether to him if such a gender is appropriate, and called his creatures off.

I pointed to the sky, pressed my wrists together to show I came as a prisoner. They know of the attacks, they don’t know how woefully unprepared they are. 

Even without the communication barrier they lack the technology to defend themselves adequately, their weapons can’t penetrate the ambots steel or the Sssi-Ruuk hides.

I was taken to their elders, their bulbous heads decorated in strange fungi of many different hues that grows like hair as they rest on tripod inverse knees.

A shaman of some kind I could commune with through the aether, sharing images of the Ssi-Ruuk vessels and warriors, this he chattered back to the other in low echo tones.

They soon realized the peril they were in, but in the use of aetheric lighting to fight they saw some hope.  I was soon whisked to a gathering of their Shaman’s and Magicka warriors.

No words were spoken but we communed, sharing information on the common foe.  They painted upon my skin symbols with a woad of their tentacle God to assist me in the coming battle, I enhanced those few spears and weapons I could with stronger aetheric enchantments, it is not something I have much expertise in, I followed the powers already inculcated into the hardened stipe and obsidian blades.

It was unfortunate we were brought together on the eve of disaster for the being that self identified in their queer tongue as Djogetti, there is much to learn…but the Ssi –Ruuk approach.

<<<<>>>

Day 5487

Winter chill tickled my nose, I’m walking onward, but the snow on the mountain pass is deep.

Every time I see Yorna she is more real, and yet further away.

I want to hold her, feel her warmth against me.

I’m so cold.

She turns and smiles.

“We will be together Coryn,” her words are sad,

“I can’t help you in what comes next, but someone will, you have to trust the man with the green sword, and the red eyed monster,”

I don’t understand, I barely listen, too busy trying to push through the snow, it’s up to my chest now.

I’m in another Ssi-Ruuk Vessel, the Djogetti...they fought, most died, their fungi homes were ruined, the elderly and those covered in bulbous growths on their backs that appear to be their infants were taken along with a handful of injured warriors.

I helped where I could, but I had to get aboard.   I entered through the landing gear, nearly froze to death as the vessel broke orbit, and staggered out on a vast vessel.  Not as large as a Planet Cracker, but replete with deck upon deck of captives.

I need weapons and armour.

Day 5492

I’ve witnessed the entechment.  A being is strapped to an upright device, their very soul torn from them into a machine. 

I’ve seen it several times now.  It is no easier to remain hidden. 

One Djogetti saw me before...The leathery off white orbs that I assume are their eyes met mine as he was Enteched, the woad hi fellows had painted on me still visible on my forehead as I peeked from the grille -  I thought I heard him whisper an emotion of defiance.

I found a deposit of looted goods from myriad worlds this Ssi-Ruuk Expedition has visited.  Security within the ship is limited, the captives are held in chains and force cages, and the heat of the decks and mix of atmosphere would be fatal to most humanoids regardless.

I’ve assembled a decent set of armour and weapons in addition to those I forged on the Planet Cracker, along with two Torrent bombs. 

Now I need one of their smaller vessels, and navigational information.

The alarms are sounding, they are gathering for another attack.

 

Day 5495

I made planet fall in the landing struts of a prisoner transport and moved quickly through the ruins.  The technology on this world is more familiar.


A number of ships attempted to resist the Ssi-Ruuk, they were overwhelmed by their enteched drone fighters sheer numbers.

I found the bodies of a uniformed militia, taking up a large cloak I used it to disguise myself before coming across a handful of survivors headed toward a place called Mou-Lin.  A Vox caster is sending an automated signal to assemble there for evacuation, I suspect it is a Ssi-Ruuk deception but say nothing, merely blend into the crowd.

I can’t help these people.

As we approached the outskirts of a fortified city, Phasers on the walls keeping the Ruuk at bay - for now - I slipped away from the refugees to find another entry.

I can sense something ahead, or perhaps someone.

<<<<>>>

[Lord_S_Gray]

Chapter 49 — Trinity — Relentless — Part 3

 

Day 5498

One calls himself a ‘Jeti’ the other mumbles he is a ‘Grey Jeti’.

They are the ones Yorna prophesied, the first wields a Green blade, the other is the red eyed creature.

Mou-Lin’s walls were breached, these two I encountered in the city fort's main plaza, a vast circular area bordered by half ruined houses.  They fought with their glowing blades and the Aether, but struggled against the Red -Ruuk. 

After I helped them kill the Ruuk the Red-eyed is ‘Anzat’ looked at me with terror and hope, the other, Jeti, surprised and relieved. 

Anzat knelt and and said ‘I honour the Three Goddesses of Aethas, may their Children be merciful toward me,’

I was shocked to hear such a formal greeting. 

Jeti asked if others of my kind were nearby, both were disappointed when I told them I was alone.

We retreated toward the Fortress, they had a vessel there they said. 

The Ruuk’s ambots pressed the Militia hard and in the battle Anzat was cut off from us and taken.

It took nearly a day but we finally reached their vessel upon which I write this.

Jeti is determined to rescue Anzat, I tell him it is unlikely he is alive and explain what the Entechment involved.  Jeti is saddened but not angered, he asks if I can track Anzat with the ‘Force’ using what is on board the vessel, I can.

He promises Anzat may have a way of contacting my People and asks for my help in rescuing him. 

I agree, we are preparing.

 

Day 5500

We attacked the Ruuk carrier, sliding in with the prison ships Jeti and I managed to get to Anzat mere moments before he was enteched.

I have never seen the like of the warrior Jeti.  He fights with the tranquility of an autumn stream yet even as he kills the Ssi-Ruuk he feels regret.  I cannot comprehend him.

Anzat was injured but has been able to assist us. We are moving to the bridge, we both need the navigational data there to find our way.

Anzat has mentioned he has met others of my kind, he names Valens, Jarys and Kiraea, but it has been years since he saw them, and he has no way of contacting them. 

He is surprised I have not been able to, but then Jeti mentions the XoXann Anomaly which emits negative Tachyon radiation - they say it is a time/space tear on the ‘safest’ path to the ‘Republic’ from this depth of Wild Space, but its presence makes communication distorted as linear time breaks down around it.   

Regardless he says I must pass through it to reach the others if we survive.

With the majority of the Ruuk planetside harvesting we faced only the Gold-Scaled Priest and his honour guard.  The battle was difficult, we were all injured, but Jeti succeeded in defeating the creature to Anzat and my own amazement.

Now we need only escape the ship.

 

Day 5509

I parted ways with Jeti and Anzat on Reehma. They provided me with information on an ‘Exhibition’ called the Arts of Aephordaea, and navigational information on how to reach the Republic. 

They asked about a world they are searching for called ‘Ahch’To’ or ‘Orrious’.  I had heard of neither but provided my log of Day 3771 of a mountain that seems similar to that which they sought as a way point. 

They asked if I would join them, but I explained I had to find what became of the Woman of the People on the Planet Cracker. Jeti offered his Blessing that the Force be with me, Anzat that the Goddesses guide me.  I hope their own gods help them find their path.

Anzat had given me some precious metals to purchase gear and a vessel, I made good use of it, raw phirk and other metals to forge a new sword, armour and crossbow, a fast modified Shadow Phase fighter with two seats and Dark Matter Drive.

With this ship and the navigation data from the Ruuk ship I will find the Planet Cracker.

 

Day 5541

It has been more than a month, but I have the trail.  Traders and labourers have all confirmed the Solarii Planet Crackers rough path on the Goah Route, though are unsure of where it is now. 

My ship should be fast enough to catch it if I follow the route, or catch it coming the other way.

 

Day 5550

As soon as I left Dark Space I sensed it.

The planet is a mess of oceans on each pole as vast deserts around the sun baked equator.
The dread fills me.

 

Day 5551

A money changer confirmed the Planet Cracker passed here three months ago, they traded for supplies, and dumped their waste in the deserts.

The dread draws me there, I cannot explain why.  The last of the gems Anzat left me I obtained a speeder and provisions.

 

Day 5556

Each day the sun eats at my flesh, each night I freeze.  I push on searching the ashen mounds of detritus covered by the shifting sands for something I do not want to find.

 

Day 5557

It was on a high dune overlooking the endless sea of blazing white silicone and iron sands.

I dug till by hands blistered into the beggars grave, tearing out the dried corpses one by one till I found her.

Heat and decay had taken away so much already.  I fell to my knees exhausted, defeated.

”I have to leave Coryn,” Yorna said standing in mid air before me as my tears evaporated in the instant they were shed.

“No…I need you more than ever,” I pleaded to the mirage of my mind.

She looked distracted, turning her gaze to thing I could not see.

“They’re calling my name, I can come back at last,” she said joyously,

“I don’t understand, you said you were leav…”

“Bring Ilnaea with you,” She said before vanishing beyond any reach

I woke in the dead of night, skin scorched and throat dry.  I did as she asked, collecting the relics of Ilnaea, the woman I failed to save, her skin still showing bruises and cuts endured before her body was dumped with the others.  Where I was to bring them I did not know, all I have to go on is what Anzat told me. 

But first the Goddesses Vengeance will fall..

 

Day 5562

I’ve traced the planet cracker to a system near Orbis where it has just smashed a moon of a gas giant apart.  The greedy outsider filth will feast on the moons molten core for months.  I have time to plan.

 

Day 5601

Tomorrow.

 

Day 5603

The Solarri are dead.

I knew the layout of the ship this time, more than that I no longer needed to conceal my activities.  Ilnaea rests in a sack upon the second seat of my ship.

I infiltrated among one of the regular trade vessels that come and go, made my way through the market and cornered a Solarii headman in a darkened corner.  Killing him and taking his clothes I moved through the levels, slitting throat after throat, rigging explosives with their grenades, ensuring I never took on more than a handful at a time.

It took a few hours but the Magister noticed the diminishing number of guards, alarms sounded, I headed to their barracks where a dozen were arming themselves.  My crossbow bolt slew eight, my sword four more.

I no longer concealed my efforts, destroying cameras and any who stood in my path.  The corridors of the ship limited their ability to overwhelm me, the high ceilings meant for the species that built this monstrosity made it easy for me to leap over and around them.

They brought out their larger weapons, their best troops, but I had watched the Jeti closely, how he moved in peerless defence, I could only replicate some of it, but it was more than enough against this rabble.

I was not without injury or delay, but I reached the Magister.  He was an obese flatulent thing on a throne too large for him, surrounded by the affectations of the race whose ship he occupied. 

He grinned the smile reaching each ear of his fat bald head, white from too much time in space, and pressed a button.  The floor gave out and I fell into a snare filled with rabid Ruuk.

They were ferocious, turned feral by their captivity, it was his last mistake.  My first action was not to defend, but to quickly hurl one up telekinetically before the trap door closed into his office.   

The fight was long and painful. With my teeth I tore the arteries under thick scaled hide from the last one before ripping my way out.

The magister was still alive, his guards dead around the feral Ruuk.  He was bleeding the Ruuk had clawed his fat belly.

“Who…why…” he asked

I never answered.

<<<<>>>>

The Planet Cracker has met its fate, the destroyer of planets I sent on a collision course with the gas giant whose moon it had taken.

Many escaped, but not all.

There is nothing for me here now.  It will be some weeks before I can reach the Xoxann Anomaly and the ‘Republic’. 

Goddesses guide me.

<<<<>>>>

Chapter 49 — Trinity — Unification

Bakura was as far from anywhere as could be, as nowhere as Jakku apart from the slowly growing mining colony. 

Perfect enough for a fugitive from the Pykes to lay low, perhaps find work and resources to build stockpiles of his deadly creation.

Ideal for a former prisoner to trade a Chandrillan Alpha vessel for something less conspicuous to Wild Space Traders.

And the first port for a relentless hunter coming from Wild space through the XoXann anomaly during a burst of negative Tachyon radiation that had twised him back several decades in time to start his search for his People.

There was only one orbital trade ring, only a handful of stores.

Coryn trembled with expectation as he felt the presence, Lysan approached slowly as the younger man turned.  Each could see the scars slowly healing on their face, and those that never would on their souls.

For the first time in decades Lysan felt something other than hate. Sympathy. 

“You’ve come a long way…” he said trying to recall the face,
“You too…I don’t...” Coryn couldn’t pick the face
“Lysan,”
“Coryn,”
“Are there others alive?”
Coryn nodded “I think so, an alien told me of some of the young guardians,”
“We can’t trust Outsiders,” Lysan replied immediately “The few People I was with remain enslaved to a mercenary species, the Ailon, we will need powerful weapons to free them, if they still live,”
“I have none,” Coryn replied sheepishly
Lysan clapped him on the shoulder feeling muscle built from toil and war, crossbow and sword on the younger man's back both well used.
“You are one,”
“I have some,” A thin voice came from behind them.

Pale skin, staggering on weak feet as muscles rebuilt, data terminal scomp links where his hands should be Arryn staggered toward them, his assistance droid behind him.

Coryn and Lysan were astonished, but quickly realised this meeting was truly the Goddesses will, a Trinity reunited after dire struggle and suffering to take vengeance upon the outsiders.

Arryn sat quickly, his legs still not recovered, the others joined him.

“I have a substance I developed while enslaved, Naqxium, powerful explosive potential…” Arryn whispered, his voice already so thin it was barely audible.

“I need only a delivery mechanism and target,”

Coryn pursed his lips unsure.
“I…may have one…the Outsider may have been lying but he spoke of something called the Arts of…...” he made a gesture so they would understand, not speaking the sacred name of the Goddess. “...exhibition”
Lysan sneered at the Outsider blasphemy.

“Clearly a deception then,” he growled “There is no limit to the Outsiders depravity,”  Lysan stretched his hand to the center of the small table

“But together brothers, we will set this hideous ‘exhibition’ to nuclear fire and then….then show this galaxy what a Trinity of lost brothers can do,”

Unbreakable, Unstoppable and Relentless the three men put their hands over the others in unity with each other, and hatred for Outsiders.

<<<<>>>>