He's been left to die on an inhospitable world, surrounded by criminals and enemy forces. Enough is enough, and Walters doesn't care who knows it.
viernes, 17 de junio de 2011
El Juego - SD IV Chapter Four Part2
Private Yacht Princess Marie Fold Space
The yacht’s forward velocity bled slowly away, as the warring tug of gravity took hold. Without the braking kiss of atmosphere it still moved away from the Flagship, yet the remote drone busily went about its duty. Light flared from the bow of the drone as twin cylindrical shapes shot out. Once past the yacht they opened, a microfine net spun free, linked equally to the two cylinders. The Princess Marie ploughed into the net, the movement activating retro rockets which fired, burning their payload madly as they drove themselves back towards the drone. Twin arms clicked into place, catching the net as it was drawn back. Clamps locked in place and the drone fired its own thrusters, killing the yacht’s forward motion and dragging the now immobile craft back towards the Flagship.
Alana woke, her mind groggily trying to make sense of the lights and sounds around her.
“Hit her with another shot,” said a disembodied voice, “awake she could be a handful.”
“Should we remove the armour?”
“Fool!” the first voice snarled, “This one and its companions will be a useful trump card. Sedate them and prepare them for delivery, then freeze them.”
She tried to move, her armour responding to her mental commands for a brief instant, before she once more was overcome by a muggy haze. Drugs, she was being sedated. No!
One ceramic wing flicked open, its serrated edge cutting deeply into one of her captor’s legs. She was unaware of the damage caused and missed the sardonic laughter which followed her into slumber.
“This one looks promising,” said the disembodied voice, “I know just where I’ll use her.”
Asmode's Lair Spindle
A new moon hung threateningly in the night sky, its arrival had stressed the seas, causing further damage to an already battered land mass. The Construct was massive; it had grown gradually as debris and detritus had been attracted and absorbed during its journey. Its owner collected souls, yet they came with baggage and so that had been accepted too.
“As melodramatic as ever, Brother,” whimpered Beelzebub, the pain of his Brother’s mind had driven him to his knees. His followers lay bleeding and moaning by his side.
“You will join me...”
It was a statement, not a request and Beelzebub was too weak to refuse.
“Of course,” he replied, trying desperately to hide his real thoughts.
“You were always transparent. Your thoughts and desires are inconsequential at this time. Keep it that way and I will let you live.”
Laughter greeted his response and Beelzebub began to pray.