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, 16 de marzo de 2012
SDIV Chapter 13 Part1
Kermadec Island Macaulay Disputed Zone
Betrayal hurt. Its pain had faded a little and become the uncontrolled rage of a spoilt child. Viker had lost the two closest of his people, yet their relationship had long paled into insignificance in comparison with the sultry allure of his power. Where others had accepted and grown into their power, Viker listened to the kernel that was Marius and sank further into depravity each day.
There was no high ideal any more, and the young man who had idolised Walters had become spiteful and self-indulgent. The throne room around him stank; decaying food and body parts littered the floor and those who now followed him swayed in the ecstasy of their mistaken faith and the influence of the drugs he plied them with. Nothing worked for him; enhanced metabolism eradicated the chemical substances quickly and his drug reliance hung on the Dark Power he wielded.
Word spread quickly and no more frightened refugees flocked to his banner, rather now they ran from his reputation and ravening disciples. His outward appearance changed daily, stained and tainted by blood and excess. Black wings trailed the floor behind him, feathers dropping to join the pile of refuse there.
Power leached from him into his depraved and adoring people, thinning their bone structure and turning them into his mirror image. Long claws sprang wickedly from bent and broken fingers, and their snouts had lengthened revealing twin rows of sharpened teeth. It was long past time to leave, but something still held Viker here. There was nothing left to wait for, yet still he lingered, an almost pathetic hope for salvation slowly being strangled out of existence.
Fold Space Unknown Location
Fold Space itself trembled in anticipation as Johns and his men drew near. Another point change was occurring and the fabric of reality strained.
The statement was meant both as information and a warning. All through the vessel soldiers prepared themselves for what they knew not, but they believed. Johns smiled to himself; he was a seasoned non-commissioned officer and his job had always been to prepare men and women for battle. They feared and respected him, but he was no charismatic leader. That had been the job of both Walters and Viker, now he needed someone else. He just hoped that Alana had found them.
“Transition out of Fold Space in ten...nine...”
It was an ethereal and disembodied voice which echoed Johns’ sombre mood. There would be deaths, that he knew, but it was better to fight for something than rot in the shadow of evil. The old soldier accepted the fact that he and Alana had a duty to redeem Viker, it was a given. That certainty of purpose was tinged with another; the boy would die, and it would not be pleasant.
Their ship shuddered back into reality, alarm klaxons instantly screaming to raucous life. Some things never changed.
Flagship Unknown Location
The arrival of the ship was clearly unexpected. Rogue Ori and sycophantic adherents of the Game, were the only ones who knew of rendezvous points throughout the Urionverse. No-one, except the Game players themselves knew of this location. It had been a shock when Shan arrived. This, however, was clear grounds for heart failure. An unknown vessel in unscheduled contact with the Flagship could only mean one thing.
“Deploy the drones.”
Shan was occupied elsewhere and old habits die hard.
“What about them,” one of the Ori indicated Shan’s reeking followers whose bodies rotted quietly in their Master’s absence.
“They are nothing but putrescent vessels,” replied his only conscious compatriot, “ignore them.”
Corrupt, diseased and psychopathically loyal, Shan’ followers listened, and waited for instructions.
Hanger bay doors opened, allowing the sleek attack drones to spear out into the darkness. Their matt-black colouration made them almost invisible to the naked eye, and sophisticated stealth technology took care of their thermal profile. These too had been stolen, and were tools of last resort. At the time of their acquisition from a Protectorate Research Facility, they had only been seen as a precaution. Today, that whimsy had been proven right.
Quickly the eight craft took up a twin diamond formation and followed their instructed attack pattern.