View Full Version : Feverish original writing [PG-13 for swearing and violence]

February 19th, 2008, 01:52 PM
Now, this is far, faaar from a complete work. I actually just recently made this recently in a fever of creative storm. I know there are a alot of errors, grammatically speaking, and story wise. But right now, what I'm looking for is general input on the story.

By the way, for those of you who actually remember me (I'm sure you don't) SHINEY IS BACK!

The Grand Admiral of the Confederacy of Humankind, BeBe Fyann strode to the head of her personal flagship, the Syndicate and was not best pleased. The spotless, stainless steel interior was harsh and bleak, except where it was painted white. Then it was downright stark. She strode up, her long, bright blue hair gleaming as it swayed hanging just past her knees. She adjusted her grand admiral’s coat, the brilliant white fabric stark and simple, the same as any naval uniform, apart from the fact that it was gleaming white, the highest honor for the naval regions. She strode up to the observation deck, her bright, unsettlingly large green eyes that lacked a pupil gleaming as she strode up the small staircase made specially for her to gaze out at the fleet she was commanding. She had a special staircase, since anyone who saw her would say that she was eight years old to the day, and not a moment over ten, at the most. The image of a child obviously commanding the entire crew of the super-class cruiser, the broad triangular masterpiece of the Confederate fleet was both ridiculous and striking. However, the ‘Child Admiral’ was famous for being the best of the best, literally a prodigy in tactical warfare.

She held out her hand, and an ensign in the same uniform as her, but the grey color of his rank, and far fewer badges than decorated her own chest gave her a video reader with her reports on them. She glanced through them, and her scowl only darkened. “Why wasn’t I informed that he FPE was moving this group right here?” She said, her high pitched voice harder than that of any child’s as she tapped a graphic that showed several ships moving away from a main group. “The emperor Fyann only recovered this information recently.” The ensign said, sweating vigorously now. She sighed, tossing the video screen back at him. “Figures. Send out dispatches to the first and third fleets, I want them ready for an interception on the hour. Start priming the Star Drive, now.” She said, and turned to glare at the triangular cruisers of the fleets gathered above the Capital world, Gaia. “Send a message to the emperor, tell him that I’ll try to be back in time for my birthday party, but that he has to realize the significant threat this splinter group poses.” She said, and the message was sent less than a moment later, thanks to the secretaries hanging on her every order. “It looks like this cold war is finally heating up.”
AN: way too short, not sure how to expand it.

The two figures paced through the dark hallway, glancing out at the windows at the barren Redstone landscape. “I still think we’re taking too much time with all these negotiations, Dad.” The young woman said, raising an eyebrow over her good eye. They made an odd pair, around the same height, tall for her, and average for him. The young woman pale of skin and dark of hair, with one large and dark brown eye, its counterpart covered up by a bold and lacy black patch that wrapped around her head. Some said it marred her beauty, others said it added character. She just said she liked it, and it was better than having an empty socket, or an itchy prosthetic. She was dressed in an elaborate wine colored dress, with black trimmings that gave an impressive view of bosom, along with long sleeves that weren’t actually attached to the dress proper. Her father, though it raised eyebrows to hear her call him that, was on the opposite of the scale. Dark chestnut colored skin, and grizzled white hair, he was small, but powerfully built, filling out his traditional business suit. He was practically covered in scars, including one of his eyes being ruined by large claw shaped scars ripping over the upper left portion of his face. His other eye, he claimed was natural, but seemed to have an unholy orange sheen to it. “Just relax, there’s nothing going on at the moment, we can afford to take out time to plan this carefully.” That was when the roof of the tunnel they were in shook, and the artificial lights strung to the ceiling flickered and died.

In the darkness, there was one small orange light, her father’s eye. “You know that if you had gone for a prosthetic, you could have had a flashbeam installed, right?” growled Lucas, current head of the Devarra Family, or the Devarra organization as it was called by outsiders. “No **** Sherlock, but they’re itchy as hell.” Muttered his daughter, in the darkness, and heard scrabbling and shouts mixed with short bursts of gunfire in the distance.

“FPE.” Said Lucas, analyzing the sounds. Magnetically propelled metal rounds, the favorite of the FPE, along with fragmentation based explosives. “So I guess that means we’ve found a side in this war?” She asked, only to be silenced by her father holding up a hand, and returning in a whisper. “No, it means they’re the ones who found us first, now get ready.”

Helmet beams became visible as the sound of footsteps rushed towards them. The infamous Storm Commandos of the Free People of Earth. “Call Sooba.” Lucas said, taking aim and firing. One set of helmet beams toppled to the ground and didn’t move. In the near total darkness, Violad’e fished out a small datapad, sending out a high pitched aural signal, well beyond human hearing. Then she took aim, and with a bang, another set of head beams faltered, the ones behind it leaping over. There were at least four more. Then the Magnetic Rifle fire began a return salvo. They both ducked, but Violad’e gave a small grin as a faint breeze came by the hallway.

A faint mewling sound was all the warning they had before a huge force crashed into one of the commandos. Judging from the patterns of the helmet beams, one was hefted up by his leg, swung around like a club into another, and another was lifted up, before the helmet went flying with a sickening crack. The last one turned to ran, but the beams were snuffed out with a dull thump as something massive landed on it. Without the interference of the helmet beams, their eyes adjusted quickly.

The charcoal skin of the creature was smooth but covered with coarse black hair, with an elongated and slender figure that was well muscled without losing its slim shape. It was massive, filling the hallway. It had a strangely humanoid face, though the face was lacking of eyes and nose; it’s only feature a predatory mouth with large, vaguely arachnoid fangs. The thing had long hands, with two fingers and a thumb on each, tipped with a massive claw on each appendage, and similar addendums on its feet. It made a faint purring sound as it moved closer to both of them in the darkness. “I swear that making it take care of you and your brother as babies was the best decision I’ve ever made.” Said Lucas, dusting off his suit as he got up. “Well, our guards are dead, but FPE assassination teams are never more than a few commandos. Shall we continue to the negotiations?”
AN: Not too bad, but I’d like input.

“While I respect your views on the matter, Mister Chairman, I believe that we are ignoring a significant threat.” Said the honey-skinned man to the chairman of the FPE. “Relax, Calvin.” Said the aged head of one of the greatest factions in the Spiral Arm. Grey haired, but remarkably well preserved for being in his 90’s, thanks to highly expensive rejuvenating treatments. “The Devarra negotiations are nothing to be worried about. Criminals talking with bandits.” The slanted eyes of the Exosociologist narrowed in irritation. “Considering that we’ve never had a victory against the raiders they’re negotiating with, the De’varras have information, and resources. You couple that with the apparent tactical superiority of these ‘bandits’ that we don’t even know the species of, and you have a significant threat to us, quite aside from the Confederation.”

The chairman waved it aside. “We’ve found the location of the negotiations, and sent a strike team to deal with them. We’re relocating you to a confederation terraforming project. We believe they’re trying atmospheric chemicals to enhance a population. We have every confidence in you, plus your… Special cybernetics will be particularly useful in a potentially hazardous environment…” ‘Calvin’ frowned, causing a tightening of an angular scar that just barely missed his right eye, shrugging. “I’m at your disposal, chairman. I can only give advice.” He turned, and not waiting for a response “If I’m excused, chairman, I’ll be on my way now.” He walked out of the office, then out of the prismatic office of government. The massive pyramid of sparkling steel and glass was a symbol of power to the free people of earth. Often called technologically inferior and a naval joke, the FPE bore the brunt of those jokes in silent dignity. They were however more focused on their economy. While admittedly not having the “fancy” technologies of plasma weapons and hovercrafts, they did have a good understanding of how the weapons worked. And though their navy was smaller, they also had much more effective fighting force, as well as very strong planetary defense. Moreover, their magnetic weaponry was considered a nightmare for most troop engagements. True, they didn’t have the massive ships, but a storm commando team could take any confederate ship it wanted to, nine times out of ten. Calvin’s thoughts continued to wander on such things as he paced down the road of the capital city.

The large paved streets were full, but of pedestrians. Personal vehicles aside from a few special transports had been outlawed on public property here long ago, due to the wish to preserve the environment of the area. And, it seemed it had done its job. The capital looked like a wonderland of the past clashing with a utopia of the future in terms of style, with lush trees and fields fighting the technological constructs for space to revel in beauty. Calvin however knew that it was more because of the billion dollar plus landscaping contracts than any environmental order that kept this little dreamland so nice. He was a special case, himself. He was the best of the best, and it wasn’t a matter of ego. He had the intelligence, the dedication, and the will for self betterment. He had started by stealing millions of dollars in scholarships, and most of it actually spent on education. When the authorities were finally starting to catch up to him, he had presented his case that he would be more valuable as an employee, than a prisoner. His case was very convincing, and he had been transferred from his colony home to the capital to partake in Silver Beret training, the elite Special Forces. Combined with his already remarkable curriculum, he was then trained in espionage, since he was only twenty-four by the time he had become a full Silver-Beret. Now referring to himself as such things as “Exo-sociologist” and “Specialist in Obscure Details” Calvin was on the chairman’s personal staff, and an extremely valuable asset, he knew. Why then, was he being diverted from war-time concerns, and sent away from the capital to some run down, obviously trumped up terraforming experiment?
AN: Expand and add to the scene about the megatropolis earth, the scene is way too short. EDIT: Updated a bit, still feels a bit too lacking for description. I need to show more of the FPE.

As the white with faint streaks of blue of the Star Drive travel slowed and warped to a normal view of stars, infinite in the distance, the bridge crew let out a gasp as one. The cylindrical ships of the FPE were under attack and clearly on their last legs as they were swarmed by huge numbers of very strange fighters. A single elongated chassis with long perpendicular wings in varying configurations. Nearby were two space stations, a set of two spires with two square shaped levels, like nails through two square-shaped rings. These mysterious aggressors, dubbed ‘raiders’ rarely left survivors, but the tales had spread.

“Admiral?” One of the crew asked, shaking BeBe from her focus. “Eh?” She asked, whirling to glare at him. “Retreat vectors?” The ensign asked, clearly startled. “Retreat? No, we’re going to kill two birds with one stone.” She said proudly, and several of the crew flinched. BeBe whirled back to the observation window. “Attention all Confederation forces.” She said, activating the microphone on her lapel, broadcasting to the crew of her own super cruiser, as well as both assembled confederation fleets. “You know that if there’s anyone who can kick these bastards hard enough that they’ll be ♥♥♥♥ting out their ears, it’s me. And you also know from reports of contact with the raiders, that that kind of force is exactly what it’s going to take.”

Already grasping the mechanics of the conflict, she began spouting her orders. The third fleet was to descend on the swarms, and use their larger fighter escorts to suppress their fighters. “Don’t worry about capturing anything alive. Corpses and wreckage will tell us as much as we need to know right now.” The admiral said, turning and continuing her orders. The first fleet, along with the Syndicate with their much higher mounted firepower would attempt to cripple, if not destroy the two stations. They outnumbered the Raider forces substantially, but previous encounters had shown that wasn’t enough to survive an encounter with the Raiders.

Case in point, the battle with the fighters and the third fleet was going well, but then there was an energy spike from the stations. Massive projectiles had been launched, and were traveling at a ludicrous speed. The FPE had magnetic weapons, but nothing on this level that could be mounted on a station so small. “Prepare for imp-“ BeBe yelled, before being unceremoniously flung from her staircase. One of the cruisers was destroyed entirely, the sheer velocity igniting atmosphere, the projectile cutting through shielding, armor, and the fuel cells. The explosions that followed ripped the ship into pieces, nothing but scrap and memorials.

BeBe’s super cruiser did markedly better. Her shields were likewise shattered, but the far more massive ship had more energy aligned against the projectile, slowing its velocity considerably. The ship was still punctured clean through, but nothing vital had been hit. Bulkheads slammed into place, as BeBe, now minus her hat, climbed back up the stairs. “Hang back, and begin charging the Devastator!” she practically screeched to the bridge crew. “Shields are at four percent, ma’am-“ One of the crew began, only to be screeched at again. “Hell with the shields! A weapon like that will hammer right through, and they won’t miss twice!” She turned to the window again. “All ships in the first Confederate fleet, full throttle, full salvo. I want those things wreckage before we even have to use the devastator!”

Thirty-five triangular confederation cruisers throttled forward, the glowing outlets of their normal-drive engines shining blue-white with flares of yellow in their wake as they advanced. Then, full salvos of superlasers were launched. Not truly lasers, the name had stuck through popularity as streams of green and white, and in some cases blue plasma rocketed from nozzle-shaped protrusions all over the cruisers. Long streams that continued for several seconds each, until the plasma cells overheated. “Disperse shields, devote all power to the plasma cells, and open them to vacuum to cool them faster, your shields aren’t going to do you any good anyway!” BeBe ordered, and watched as the streams impacted the stations. They had no shields apparently, but their armor must have been super dense. The plasma latched onto the surface, and it was burning through, but far too slowly. It ate through the hull in several places, but it was minor vacuum exposure.

Then a communication came through, and one of the crew looked up. “Admiral, fleet three reports a complete victory, and is en-route to aid us.” At that, she smiled. Even if she died, there wouldn’t be any escape for these stations. Even star drive could be stopped, once they saw where the charging engines were. It seemed that the stations realized this too. As they became surrounded, BeBe had a sinking feeling. “Quickly, reroute all energy to shielding systems, ASAP people!” She screeched. Trained by reflexes, and absolute faith in their commander, the crew of the Syndicate did so immediately. Some of the ships in fleet one responded, but most didn’t have time to react. Most of the ships in fleet three had shields at normal levels, and were on the rise when it happened.

Both stations erupted in golden-white light. It was not merely a self-destruct, but a full attack as a massive wave of shrapnel, energy discharges, radiation fields, and sheer force came blasting towards the fleets. The ships without shields were punctured until they lost cohesion from shrapnel, or merely ripped apart from the shockwave. None of the shields lasted fully due to the energy discharges, radiation flares, as well as the physical forces directed against them. However, the remaining six cruisers, including the Syndicate, were alive. Severely damaged, but alive. BeBe scanned the area, nodding to herself. They had captured invaluable footage, tactics, and large chunks of the space station remained, and there were dozens of damaged and merely paralyzed fighters among the FPE wreckage. “Send an emergency message drone to Gaia, inform my father that we need immediate evacuation, and a hazardous research station as well as garrison deployed here. Afterwards, send all power to life support and shields; I don’t want to be bathing in radiation any longer than I have to.”
AN: seems good to me, straightforward battle scene.
The Emperor of the Confederacy of Humankind, Seros Fyann sat in one of the darker areas of his Gaia palace, staring through thick energy barriers projected around thick metal bars in a crossing pattern. On the other side, was a huddled figure, likewise sitting in the darkness, a cowl wrapped around it from head to toe. “You know…” The middle aged man said, darkly tanned, almost olive toned skin, and rich black hair carefully groomed down to his shoulders, and a refined mustache and beard giving him a vibrant, yet wise appearance. “Why call me here, if you are not to say anything?” The wrapped figure looked up, and the wrinkled face of a crone gazed at him, but with vibrantly blue eyes that were sharp as any blade.

“I want my freedom.” It said, the voice strained with age, but still powerful, like a gnarled root that would dull any axe seeking to cleave through it. “Now why on Earth would you want something like that? It would do you no good, without a ship, or any way to find your home again.” “I have my ways.” Came the dry reply. “I’ve taught you enough, you have all the parlor tricks you could dream of, you’re stronger than any number of bodyguards, and you teach the skills you’ve learned aptly. I feel your right hand; the power you’ve taught her to wield has warped her, corrupted her, and made her less than human.”

“More, actually.” Came a strong female voice as a bar of light temporarily blinded the two. In strode the “Bodyguard” of the emperor, though in truth their relationship was more vicious hound to skilled master. Clad from head to toe in bright white armor, highly ornamented with gold and red, and a red shoulder mantle flaring behind her as she strode in. Seros winced slightly. He had saved the girl from damnation abandonment as a child, and in teaching her the powers he had learned from the old crone had given her to an entirely new damnation. The powers had warped her, corrupted her. He knew that she wore the armor to hide charcoal colored hair, bright amber eyes, and bluish-grey skin from head to toe. But the corruption itself had led to some interesting talents, and she never seemed to truly mind…

“You are children, as primitives wielding weapons with no concept of how they work, only duplicating and stumbling your way to more knowledge.” The crone said, her voice calm. “Then I suppose you’ll have plenty to teach us in your final days.” Seros said, and rose, to face his second. “My lord,” She said, the visor of her helmet shining with a recent polish. “We’ve received reports from your daughter that they encountered, and defeated raiders among battling with the FPE, but have sustained heavy losses, and are in dangerous conditions.” Seros immediately made his way to the door. “We’ll conclude our discussion later.” He said closing the door behind him as his second moved out with him. The crone was left alone with the darkness...
AN: Unnecessary, maybe? Mostly for foreshadowing purposes.

The room that Violad’e and Lucas entered was better lit than the long halls they had come from, and carved out of the Redstone structures that dominated the planet. It was like this everywhere on this world that was scored by massive winds and sand in the past until the planet was dominated by canyons, walls, and strange rock formations. But at some point a massive amount of water had been added to the atmosphere, creating a perpetual fog that made distant sight impossible. Massive windows cut all along the room, built into a canyon showed off the steely grey unity of the sky and horizon, but their attention was focused on the figure at the end of the massive table. Three people covered in colored armor with thin visors were waiting. One black with silver highlights, the other deep yellow with white accents stood by the door, but it was the obvious leader who sat at the table that got their attention. Pure, snow white armor, hinted with the red of flesh blood along the surface, in a pattern that was both menacing, and dignified.

Lucas’ eye brightened, as did Vio’s, but they kept themselves under control, if barely. Slowly, the figure removed its helmet, revealing a stunningly beautiful, almost Nordic human face. Pale skin, hair that could have been confused for woven gold, and pure blue eyes. Beautiful did not mean soft though. Her face was without scars, but the held the hard expression of someone who had to fight for their life more than once. She sat the helmet down on the table as she took a seat, the love of her life and her daughter sitting across from her.

“Well then, as you can plainly see, I am back.” She said, giving a wry smile. “And no, I’m not in charge of everything, but I have the favor of the current… Seeker. Our son, Talyc.” That got minor jolts from them both, and her smile widened. “I’m afraid the situation has changed.” She said, and the smile faded. “Lucas, you remember my… Allies, from outside.” Lucas grimaced, remembering the old days when he and Elena had planned a stranglehold on the civilized galaxy.

[/i]Two figures stood in a narrow hallway on a space station, the windows showing a slowly rotating view of stars. The one clad in slim ebony armor, shining in the fluorescent lighting. Two scabbards rested on his back, one empty. His hands were full, one carrying a powerful handgun, the other what seemed to be a saber, the edge glowing with the heated plasma coil blade. Beside him was a bulkier figure in white and red armor, matted so that it did not shine, but obviously made for heavy assault. In it's hands was a massive, tripple-barrelled rifle sending massive blasts into the swarms of what could only be called 'monsters' surrounding them, stuff straight out of the nightmares of all humans. Bodily fusions of all sorts, literally as if one had crossed the basic humanoid shape with anything and everything the mind could imagine.[/i]

“The Qaah have made themselves more of a nuisance than we can deal with. The term ‘allies’ no longer applies; they are attacking everything including my own people, and as far as we can tell, they are planning a full-scale invasion.” Lucas raised an eyebrow. “Well, not to say I told you so, but I did warn you that they weren’t dependable.” Elena nodded, a grim look on her face now. “But we did learn a lot from them to be put to good use. If anyone survives this war, the Baktou will be supreme in the spiral arm.” At that, Violad’e shifted noticeably, but neither of her parents thought it was anything worth noting.
AN: Still too short. Maybe add more descriptions, talks about their family life? EDIT: Updated, expanded, refined. But I still want to hint more at the family life, and the comparison of Lucas to the Devil

Calvin, now under the name of “Nero Dami” marveled at the planet he was on now. Terraforming was an expensive industry, but completely possible, given enough raw resources and he had to admit that an experiment this simple should have been thought up a long time ago. The planetoid was cool, too cool to be comfortable, but coats and insulated housing fixed that. And the atmosphere was rich, nearly an oxygen soup. His implants as the chairman had described them were a set of various detoxifying machines laden in his lungs, liver, and bloodstream. Excellent at processing and removing foreign substances in record time. He had even used it once to trump a truth serum and remove himself from some ‘intrusive negotiations’ when he had been caught trying to run a blockade.

He moved over to the hoverbug he had bought. Not that he’d call it such a derogatory term here, though. FPE antigravity technology wasn’t up to par with the confederation, but the ground-based vehicles tended to be just as deadly for terrestrial warfare. He could have stolen the thing for research of course, but why bother when their economy and factories, were all made for land-based vehicles, and with a war going on, there was no need for such an overhaul. Moreover, their land based vehicles tended to be every bit as good in most situations as the hoverbug equivalent. His thoughts were distracted however, by one of the few sights that could shake the Specialist to the core.

The alarm sirens began to start up their long wail even as he revved up the engine, the soft whirring hum of the antigravity field becoming active. Looking up in the sky, he saw them. Massive cruisers began to dot the sky, one after another. Large, rounded disk shaped objects, with large ports all around that gave the vague impression of jagged edges. And much larger, crescent shaped behemoths that practically filled the sky. The shock finally alleviating, Calvin opened the throttle to maximum, altering his objectives.

The terraforming project was of minor interest, and he had already gotten most of the information that he needed, and now, there was an unknown armada appearing in the sky, and they clearly were not friendly to the planet he was on. That meant that his first priority, was to avoid entanglement, and escape. He was a superb pilot, so all he really needed was something that could reach a fair speed through atmosphere, but with the low defenses this planet already had scrambling, finding a ticket out was going to be nearly impossible. AN: Need to expand, describe his escape by hijacking various ships.

BeBe strode alongside her adoptive father, Seros in the huge corridors of the Imperial Palace. “The loss of two fleets is going to hurt, as well as the damages taken to the Syndicate Seros said, and BeBe, now clad in more casual clothes, a long sundress, nodded. Seros completely outshone her in his imperial regalia, but blue hair and emerald green eyes with no pupil tended to get the second double-take. “Yes, but you know that we have enough in reserve to back it up. We were preparing to completely swarm the FPE after all.” She said as they entered smaller, more private hallways, decked out in comfortable reds and pinks than the traditional stark white and blue. Seros shook his head. “It’s still a noticeable loss. However, I do have good news on that front. The new line of Super-cruisers is almost done; I intend to present the first in the line to you, of course.” BeBe grinned up at her father.

Seros froze, his eyes clouded. All around an ovular planet that seemed splotched with every color in the rainbow, two armadas were converged. He somehow knew that BeBe was at the head of the three massive super cruisers that made their ponderous way down towards the planet, surrounded by the swarms of confederation cruisers, the skies peppered with fighters, along with the snub nosed FPE cruisers that were cylinders with thin wings that made them vaguely triangular. Alongside both fleets were mobile stations that he didn’t recognize, along with dozens of FPE and confederation repair stations. Surrounding the planet, almost blocking the view of it, were cruisers, small disks, and massive crescents among strange, globular stations that looked like anemones from all the protrusions. As quickly as it came, the vision was gone, and Seros shook his head.

“Sorry, another one of the visions.” He explained at BeBe’s sapphire eyebrow as it rose in question. “I worry about you sometimes, dad.” She said, resuming their walk. “Ever since the old woman started teaching you those tricks, I’ve been concerned. You’ve been stressing out all the time.” Seros just shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. You’re fifteen today, you should be upset that you missed your birthday party.” BeBe tilted her head at him, her expression almost sulky. “I’m upset that it looks like we’ve got a much bigger war on our hands than we thought.”

Later, he stood on the bridge of the repaired Syndicate with Oisi by his side, watching as the shuttle transported BeBe to the new classification of super-cruisers. The Reich as it had been dubbed was a new leap forward in confederate engineering. Too large to be assembled planet side, the behemoth of a cruiser had its colossal triangular bulk actually assembled in space, near an asteroid mining facility. The huge thing was more than large enough to eclipse three normal cruisers, and as heavy as five. Fitted with the most radical and state of the art technology, this cruiser had been designed as a weapon of war unlike any other.
“This is grand admiral Fyann.” Came his adopted daughter’s voice, followed by her face over a communication link. “I have fully assumed command, and await your orders, Emperor.” She said with a faint smile on her face. She always got excited about new ships. Apparently, she had practically been bouncing off of the shuttle’s walls. Seros paused for a moment, knowing that media recorders would have this on the nets in a matter of minutes. “Admiral Fyann, I return you to your duty as grand admiral of the Confederate navy, you are free to act in your role as you see fit. Be ever vigilant for our enemies.” He trailed off, thinking. The FPE would be sending an ambassador soon enough to inquire about the splinter group BeBe had encountered. They had a few prisoners, but most had been dead or irradiated by the time rescue arrived.

Seros would return the survivors, of course. But they were being interrogated for information, first. And of course no salvage would be offered, since the confederates were studying every bit of wreckage. The most amazing part was, those ‘raiders’ were actually humans, despite having a completely different language and technology. They were fighters, every one, and most had to be restrained day and night. But they seemed eager to talk, and some of the emperor’s best linguists were on the job.

Seros was still locked in thought as he returned to Gaia aboard the Syndicate. He rarely had cause to worry about his safety with Oisi ever vigilant at his side. He found himself focusing on the event that had occurred not long ago, and why in addition to his aid he now had four of the Imperial guards flanking him at all times.

To be continued

February 19th, 2008, 01:53 PM
As he walked onto the imperial palace grounds, he pondered what was wrong. There was reason to be concerned, yes, but it simply didn’t explain his feeling of impending doom. Certainly, there were his visions, but they could as easily be symbols as true events. In his private chambers, however, he found cause to be worried. As he reached his computer terminal, an emergency alert was already flashing. Finally, he opened it up to see a sweating palace guard. “Report, soldier.” The emperor said, both face and tone as grim as death. “Sir, strange ships above the stratosphere. Not many, but they’re forcing their way through the blockade!” Seros cursed, turning. Not listening to the soldier’s pleas, he strode into the throne room, belting his Mag-blade belt around his waist.

Oisi noticed this, and gave a hissing sound as she pressurized her armor, her gloved hands darting to the two thinner Mag-blades she always wore. Looking out the window, he saw it. Several disks were burning lines in the atmosphere as they careened in. BeBe, leading the fleets in security exercises had left a defensive blockade force, but that was designed for siege, not a small, focused attack. As the defenses scrambled, several of the disks were destroyed, but one passed over the palace intact, and then the wall exploded. Several capsules landed in the throne room, having shattered the Duracrete walls designed to withstand near nuclear force explosions. The capsules were clearly designed for troop insertion, the design practically universal. Just a large metal case that you cram fighting men into, not a lot of elaboration there.

Seros, though momentarily deafened by the noise, drew his broadsword, the edges giving off a faint keening noise, barely audible at the best of times as the very edges became superheated, the blade point burning beyond cohesion. Oisi already had both blades in her hand, the blades making a slight hissing sound as she moved them through the air, filling the area with the scent of burning ozone. The capsules opened, hatches flipping open on all four sides. Rather than soldiers though, they were facing monsters. Practically pouring out of the small space were only vaguely humanoid shapes, with more, or the wrong type of limbs, tentacles, horns, spikes, fangs, tails, cybernetic pieces, armor, weaponry of all sorts. Enough to overwhelm normal people, even trained bodyguards in moments. It was a nightmare. For the monsters, that was.

For Seros, and his Aid Oisi were no ordinary people, nor even hardened warriors. Armed with seemingly primitive weapons, they went straight into the swarm. The blades that were heated to the point where a cut could reduce stone to magma sliced through their armors without hesitation. Their melee weapons were cut in the same fashion, and seemingly knowing where every attack would land, they were never quite in the trajectory of any of the projectiles fired at them, be they flame, metal, energy, or any number of vile materials. Seros strode purposefully, dominating everything before him with precise arcs of the superheated blade. They swarmed all around him, like a vile hurricane of warped and distorted bodies and deadly weapons. He had to respect these creatures. Even facing opponents who were clearly murdering them as coolly as if they were in no danger, they fought with hardened resolve, screaming defiance even as they were laid low. Oisi on the other hand was like a storm within a storm. Spinning like a dervish, both of her lighter blades whirled in impossible to track arcs, and creatures fell into pieces around her. She took far more risks, exploiting the protection her armor offered her as several scores, scratches, and holes became apparent. Even without the blades she was deadly, for with her gestures, they flew through the air into their fellows, or were snapped like toys without even being touched.

When the Royal guards, in the midst of a transfer were finally able to arrive on the scene, they found their emperor and his apprentice standing amongst carnage and gore, the smell of burning ozone filling the chamber as sunlight poured in to illuminate the killing ground. Shocked by the carnage they saw, they felt their shame double. Not only in the moment of need had they not been there, but from the sheer level of gore saturating the room, none of them would have been more to do anything but be a momentary shield. The emperor tested his blade idly with one hand before sheathing it, gazing around. “Send an emergency message to the grand admiral. I want our new factory running at full capacity, immediately.” He said, and turned. Oisi, idly poking a tentacle which still twitched on the floor with her blade, was at a good distance from the others when it happened. One of the corpses convulsed, and leapt, far less dead than it appeared, charging towards Seros. The guards yelled, and not drawing his blade, Seros turned, raising a hand towards the monster that seemed part man, part fungi. It let out a terrible shriek, no longer charging so much as falling forward, then down as it writhed on the ground. Even as it did so, acrid smoke, followed a moment later by roaring flames erupted from the creature until well after it’s death rows ceased, and a blackened husk was left on the floor. Now, the guards truly were stunned. Not only had they proven utterly useless, but they had just seen the impossible before their eyes. Was their emperor a miracle worker? Or were they assisting Los Diablos, the mythical figure of evil from ancient history?

AN: I want to add more, the descriptions feel lacking, but I’m unsure how to describe a Pandora’s box of bodily fusions.

Lucas laid back on the sunbathing chair, enjoying the bluish-green sky, the ocean in the distance, and the occasional sound of thunder from the Baktou supercommandos training in the far distance. Rumbas had originally been a small moon in a desolate star system with a dying star. But shortly after cementing his alliance with Elena, he had been convinced of the need, and value of such a base of operations. Ripping the moon away from the gravity field and on a proper tractor had been the hard part. After that, he had simply found a nice, quiet star system in a remote part of the spiral arm and placed it in proper orbit. Out of the way, small, and completely unknown, it was the perfect place to retreat for his hobbies, as well as a training facility for the Devarra soldiers and Baktou fighters. He knew Violad’e was somewhere on the vast beaches not far from the vacation house with Sooba. He smiled, letting himself fall into memory. It was shortly after Violad’e had been born, that he was in much the same place watching over the demonic creature caring for the small child and her brother. Times had been simpler, then. He and Elena had begun to set in motion a plan to conquer the galaxy. Elena’s people would have vast resources and space to expand and better themselves, continuing on their almost religious path of self improvement, and Lucas would have no bars to his… Deeper goals. He grunted a bit as he sat up, feeling the unusually heavy gravity pressing down on him. It may make for an excellent training facility, but Lucas didn’t like it so much any more. Remarkably preserved as he was, even he could feel time grating on him.

He laid his head back again, listening to the faint, almost saurian roars of slice-hounds in the distance. One of his many personal creations that made Rumas his own little wonderland, he had used them on numerous occasions, and even took a great deal from them in creating Sooba. He pondered sometimes if he went too far, but shook the feeling off. That was just age trying to dull him. He didn’t have a true army, though his soldiers could make trouble for any force he wanted to. His real power was in manipulation. Over centuries, he had put plans in motion, assimilating, consolidating, and manipulating his way into power. No one really knew just how good he was. He pulled the strings, and worlds danced. He gave the words, and led the two major factions of humanity into a very profitable war. He made bargains, and great powers in the galaxy were reduced to the homeless, and the weak were made into powerful servants that followed his every whim. He sighed, thinking of his daughter. Brilliant, as cunning as he was. Yet with a taste for brutality that seemed uncannily like her mother. She recognized the value of manipulation, at least, but she seemed to want to work on her own projects not just for the joy of creating the terrible monsters, but to use them. She had more than once voiced her opinions on wanting to create a full army, a navy, perhaps fusing to a degree with the Baktou. Lucas grimaced, but kept his eyes closed. He supposed things would have to change eventually, but due to their longevity that wouldn’t be for a good long time.

His comm unit rang, and he rolled over slightly on the chair to reach the small table, flipping open the screen. Violad’e appeared, grinning with her brown eye gleaming with a light not unlike her fathers, and the black patch covering up her other. “You know I always think better here, Dad.” She said, and Lucas felt a chill. She spoke in the same tone he always used when resistance was not an option, he would have his goal. “I remembered some of the fungal revival spores we stole from the Qaah.” She continued, her grin becoming as sly as any of his own, and as enchanting as her mothers, in her own way. “I think I’ve got a good plan to make more.. Resilient soldiers, but I need a world to test it on.” Lucas raised an eyebrow, waiting. “Let’s make a deal.”

Violad’e sat in front of a computer terminal, working on the virtual simulation of the spores. Grinning in the dark room, she paused to look over the material. A fungal spore used by the Qaah to allow their soldiers to shrug off mortal wounds temporarily, and continue fighting until they literally collapsed, dead before hitting the ground. It could be useful if the battling got half as intense as her mother had said. The only problem was trying to adapt it to the human physiology. She was every bit the bio-engineer her father was, but she didn’t have the free reign to work with her talent. Not that she blamed him for it, but her father always seemed hesitant to let her experiment. When she did so, she had to be discreet about it. As a result, she was her own little playground of biotic and cybernetic enhancements. She looked over in the mirror, her eye-patch discarded and revealing silver banded black orb in her socket, a small nozzle at the center of it, the false eye moving exactly like her real one. She sighed, picking up the patch and replacing it, cracking her knuckles audibly. She didn’t have bad joints, far from it, but her knuckles cracked a great deal due to the growths throughout her skeletal system. A somewhat rare Qaah enhancement, she had completely indoctrinated her skeletal frame with controllable, rapidly growing, and rather toxic coral-like organisms. Quite a useful weapon in a pinch. She returned to the spore readout, frowning. This was too dangerous to try on herself though, and besides. She had permission, and a whole colony to test this on…

News reports everywhere were ablaze. The FPE was reeling from new information from informants, and an unprovoked attack on a human colony. There were the Alien invaders, recently dubbed the “Qaah” by the government who gave no contact, only attacking. At first, people had thought these to be the Raiders themselves, until the officials received actual communications from them. Actually called the ‘Baktou’ or Seekers, they were recently attacked by their former Qaah allies, and were sending a military might to this sector to help stop them, requesting the aid of all civilized peoples. So far, there was yet to be a response. The Confederacy already knew these things, from its captured Baktou. However, any confirmation to loosely translated accounts was always welcome. The Emperor Fyann personally made a reply, stating that he would be more than happy to work with any force to repel these invaders. While negotiations for a truce had begun, they looked slow and awkward, if anything could be expected to come of them at all. Meanwhile, as the world waited with baited breath for the next attack, Baktou began forming up in known space, massive collections of full space stations, cruisers and fighters, an intimidating show of readiness for the oncoming crisis.

Elena paced idly on the bridge of the Stormfront-class weapons platform, the Executive, she pondered back in time. It had been so much simpler back in the day, when all you needed to know was where your enemies were, and send your forces against them. This was a highly strung game of cat and mouse, with no telling who was who. Somehow, the Qaah could move their worlds, so there was no way to tell when and where they’d be based. Memories flooded her of the days when she had been the Baktou, leading a stunning campaign that had made the ‘Raiders’ a famous force to be reckoned with decades ago. Back then, she had been on a Thunderhead-class, the best technology had to offer as she moved her forces like a bullet. Impossible to catch, and leaving death and destruction wherever they went. They didn’t need resources, or the trivial political gain. For her fleets, it had been about constant self betterment. For centuries, the Baktou had honed themselves into weapons of war by grinding against each other. They had been certain that there was nothing in the galaxy that could compare to their power. They had been right, time after time until they had started to intrude upon the territory of the De’varra organization.

Back then it had actually been an organization, under the lead of a brutal dictator. With massively superior firepower, and defense, and severe tactical training, her Seekers were forced back time after time, suffered massive losses for every gain, and were severely demoralized by the ‘demon king’ as they had called him then. Anger roused, Elena had launched a far more brutal campaign of glassing, carpet bombings, biological warfare, but again, the Demon King seemed not to care, motivated only on grinding the Baktou down to nothing. For the first time in her life, Elena had found an equal, if not a better, and as more military might emerged from the humans, the war became a shadow campaign of hide and seek, and more and more political intrigue. Elena remembered the first time she had met Lucas, him settling down on the neutral territory Wayfar, but actually inside Baktou space, and setting up several operations. With such a daring move, Elena had visited him personally on the planet for the first time to ask him how he wished to be executed. It was a match made in hell.

Finding a mind as sharp as her own, she found wit, tact and technique in ways she never thought to, the political subtleties of making worlds dance to your slightest whims intrigued her. Likewise, the way she commanded her force, with brutality yet finesse, cutting away fleets with a single ship’s misdirected attack, destroying planet after planet of defenses while the fleets of humanity chased their own tails. Admittedly, it wasn’t the safest, or easiest of courtships, but how could she have argued with the results. Her son by Lucas, Talyc was the Baktou, and her Daughter was still training to inherit the organization. She herself was the acting Baktou for the fleets in this sector, and was fully prepared to dispense justice to the Qaah who had ruined her plans of dominating all of humanity.

“You know you’re going to wear a hole in the floor.” Lucas said, sitting idly back in a large command chair. Elena sighed, settling down in the other one, but still seeming edgy. “How can I not be on edge with all that’s going on? We need to eliminate the Qaah, yet we can’t even find them.” Lucas shrugged. “It’s a matter of relaxation, there’s nothing that can be done, so we wait. Besides, Vio’s about to come on.” Elena grunted. “Another reason to be upset. I will never understand you Lucas, you’ll pay millions of credits to control a crowd so that you believe no one will shoot at you, when a good layer of polysteel will do just as well, for half the price.” Lucas shrugged as the video screen began warming up. “It’s all in the presentation, my dear.”

The camera flashes seemed not to faze the young, one-eyed woman who stood at the podium of the new world. Bright blue skies and green vegetation was everywhere, a great investment of capital. “For decades, my father has been working to better humankind.” She said calmly, a faint, warm smile on her face. “Humanitarian effort has always been a great priority of my family, and in continuing their tradition, I dedicate a new colony for the betterment of humankind. Even in the face of war, we can show new hope and new life, not merely death and destruction. I dedicate this world to my father’s great efforts towards humankind, and name it Rapture, for our self-made and eternal salvation in never-ending crises.”

Elena was rolling in her chair laughing at the end of the presentation, and Lucas had somehow managed to hit the floor. When they were able to speak again, still teary eyed and weak from the mirth, they were smiling broadly. “She definitely takes after you.” They both said to each other at the same moment, before another burst of laughter hit them. “Only your daughter would have the tenacity to go out and claim anything we’ve done to be ‘humanitarian efforts’ of any kind, considering I’ve been trying to exterminate most of them!” Lucas said even as choking down a laugh. Elena grinned, leaning back. “And only your daughter would have the Tact and skill to make people swallow it.” She said, and they both realized that she took after both of them in so many ways. The daughter of the Devil indeed. “Ironic, though,” Elena said after a pause. “That she of all people may actually offer humanity’s salvation. Or damnation, if this doesn’t work out.” Lucas looked at her hard for a moment before asking, quite honestly “What’s the difference?”

BeBe scowled quite openly at the stack of datapads covering her desk. Her inbox on her computer was also nearly full. “Blast it ALL!” She screeched, sending several orderlies scurrying. It had been a few months since Voltaire, a terraforming experiment had been attacked by the Qaah. She practically lived aboard the Reich now, only keeping in touch with her family by Amnyex, a way of sending messages through star drive space. She didn’t really comprehend how it worked, she was just glad it did. But her contact had been brief. When not engaging in military operations, she was flooded by report after report, requests for aid, and inquiries about the steps she was taking to ensure colonial safety. “You!” She yelled, pointing at one of the orderlies, who froze as if seeing the gates of hell. “I want you to go through all my incoming mail and messages, scour it of all non-critical and non-personal communication.” She said, and stalked out of the room onto the command deck. Not a staircase, this ship had been designed with her in mind. She climbed into a diminutive, but stylized chair which raised itself to the window-height so she could examine the battle through the clear polymer Transparisteel window. The Qaah had been attacking, but it seemed random. Planets of no significant interest, and other times planets of critical importance. They hadn’t started a blitzkrieg, but BeBe had a feeling that they were just testing the waters. More importantly, they seemed to be evading Confederacy and FPE countermeasures much more efficiently than they did Baktou, and that was why she was here now. As the visual effect of Star Drive faded, she saw the Baktou fleets gathered there. Relatively few cruisers compared to a Confederacy fleet, but they had those mobile space stations. She had seen them in action, and more than wanted a few to experiment with herself. The Reich itself was doing it’s job, the wide triangular shape easily blotting a mass of shadow through the fleet. The Supercruiser was a terror in its own right, but it was alone.

The communication channel opened up, and BeBe saw an armored face. She gave her best scowl back, her pupil less green eyes seeming to spark with energy. “What brings the Confederacy here?” Said a thickly accented voice, almost guttural. “BeBe Fyann, grand admiral seeks to discuss cooperation and planning against the Qaah threat with the highest level Baktou Authority.” She said. She purposefully failed to invoke the Emperor in this, seeing as Seros had yet to find out. He seemed withdrawn now, focusing primarily on peacekeeping. The visions had been occurring more and more rapidly, and besides that, he was often smothered by guards and redundant safety protocols. She was worried about him, but she had to let him deal with his business. The Navy was hers. She was allowed a relatively close position to a mass of a weapons platform station, the thing looking like a massive jaw bristling all over with weaponry. Not quite a match to her ship, but a definite threat of its own. A small shuttle was cleared to carry her over there with two bodyguards. She opted for no bodyguards, going with only an ensign with recording devices.

She was escorted through the halls, and couldn’t help but see the uniformity of military construction. Stark gunmetal with textured surfaces for traction was the uniform here. An interesting addition, and she made a mental note to have all future productions with it, instead of simply the floor. After all, gravity generators had been known to malfunction. She was brought to a large room with a massive table, at the head of which sat a white and red armored figure, matted to reflect nothing, and by her side was a slim, glossy black coated figure. The guard backed out of the room closing the door behind him, and the black armored assistant leaned forward. “You are in the presence of the acting Seeker in this sector.” He said, the armor’s speakers adding a slightly sibilant, almost reptilian grating quality to his voice.

BeBe folded her arms across her chest, staring straight at the white armored figure, despite the fact that the table was nearly at her level. “I’ve come to talk about working together to deal with the threat. Clearly you’re more experienced than we are, since you know everything we’ve found out, and you’re better at figuring out where they’ll strike.” She said, almost defiant with the boldness of her words. “Maybe you’re more experienced, but having the muscle of the confederate armada backing you up would be to your benefit.” The white armored figure glanced at the black, then towards her. “Speak of providence; at last we have the best of the best with us.” She gestured, and a door slid open, revealing an FPE silver Beret. No, more than a silver beret, his front was decorated with more awards than she knew that government had. “Now, we can start making our plan…”

“So you’re saying that you have no actual authority?” BeBe asked, a sapphire eyebrow peaking at the idea. ‘Elena, as she had introduced herself a few hours in had removed her helmet, though her ‘assistant’ as he called himself chose not to show his face. “No political authority.” Calvin Lorste corrected her, sitting at a chair in a smaller room, at a smaller table. “I think that with a little bit of help, I could… Remove, the chairman, and get the FPE to work for the greater good of humanity.” He said, calm and collected. He seemed to be on the opposite end of the scale as BeBe in every regard, from looks to personality. She grinned. “I know a few fleets, that could ‘help’ you out with that.” She said, and the black armored one leaned forward. “I have specialists, and more than enough ships of my own to do so more subtly, if you’re certain that the Berets will follow you.” Calvin shrugged. “They’ll agree with me, and the commandos will follow them. What’s left of the military will be too afraid to give more than paltry resistance.” BeBe leaned in then. “The confederacy will be more than willing to accept indoctrination to the Confederacy. I’m aware of your reluctance to help a dictatorship, but-“ Calvin interrupted, seeming impatient for the first time. “But the greater good of humanity must be the issue.” ‘Elena nodded. “We’ll share our experience, and you share your relative naval muscle and military excellence. From the reports of the small numbers back home, we’ll need just that, because it looks like we’re not fighting an army, we’re fighting a full scale assimilation force.”

Author’s notes: Well, I’ll clearly need to expand on this, even if I want it to be a short story. Up next is the final buildup and the sequential climaxes of the story. I want to flesh out the FPE side some more, Seros and the crone, BeBe and Seros, so on. But after this, we’ve got the deployment, and horrors of rapture, the null station battle, the purging of Rapture, the final battles, and the wrap-up. Again, any input, ideas, and constructive criticism is welcome, I want to make it a real story, not just hear a bunch of “It’s awesome.” (Though, that’s nice in it’s own way too.) Final note, I’m aware that it’s actually a dictatorship/imperial government, not an actual confederacy, but that was just an easy name for me to use while getting this stuff out. It’ll be changed later.