Arcania: Eye of Chaos

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Arcania: Eye of Chaos; Private Roleplay!
Topic Started: 21 May 2009, 07:27 (610 Views)
Lord Synical	21 May 2009, 07:27 Post #1
Site Douchebag -//- Official Badass Posts: 162 Group: Admins Member #6 Joined: Dec 25, 2008	The year is Galactic Era (GE) 4999, an age of unprecedented discovery for the Elven Imperium and Draconian Unified Conglomerate, as well as one of unceasing warfare. The galaxy is torn, spliced by these two massive, highly advanced civilizations. No recorded histories tell of the war's beginning, it has been a constant affair for over two centuries, neither side giving a sign of an end to the war in the near future. Entire planets have been consumed by the battle, entire solar systems glassed and rendered uninhabitable. Biological warfare has been implemented numerous times, all peace talks have ended in bloody conflict. The Draconian Senate and Elven High Council vehemently oppose any form of negotiation, any manner of relenting in their assaults. Helpless mothers, fathers, daughters, sons, brothers and sisters much watch as their loved ones depart, most never to see their home again, some never to speak to their families again. The conflict has become an accepted way of life, yet still populations’ boom and new technologies are discovered year after year. New weapons, new vessels are fielded, new tactics are implemented. Any ground gained is rarely held and if it is, other ground is lost. The location of the borders has changed, but the size within has not. The carnage continues unabated, unfiltered, uncontrolled. This is the future, the golden era. There is only war. Elven Imperium, Outer Rim, Fortress World Nevarax II, Orbital Shipyard. "All systems check out, my lord. Control is giving us the green." The speaker was sitting in a chair before a massive holoscreen, the projector embedded into the metal before him, His slightly pointed ears and lightning blue hair marked him as an elf, as did his blue-pupated, golden irises eyes. He shifted his gaze behind him to the figure seated in the captain's chair on an elevated platform in the centre of the vessel's bridge, with two small sets of stairs leading down to the left and right pilot and communications terminals respectively. Fleet Commander Lucien 'Flameweaver' Senus was a unique sight, with hair the colour of snowflakes, too-perfect features and his almost never seen combination of golden pupils and red irises. He was garbed, as were the rest of the crew, in a neat, crisp white uniform, the badges of victories past pinned to his left breast, the red stripes of rank shining on his shoulders. Turning, he raised one silky white gloved hand and stroked his hairless chin, eyes peering out at the hurriedly clearing space dock before him. "Very well, comms," he shifted, facing instead a shock of vivid red hair belonging to a man seated on the frontal left side of the bridge, where the comms officer had been on the right. The entire bridge was white-painted metal, the screen before them reinforced plasma-resistant glass, "Helm, take us out, easy does it. Don't want to scratch the paint now." A collective laughing spread through the bridge for a moment, Lucien allowing them the liberty as the helmsman carefully fired some auxiliary power, the massive vessel detaching from the dock with a hiss as it drifted away, the pilot carefully producing a counter-burst from the right apogee motors to slow the sideways movement of the vessel before grasping the controls, left hand resting on the double-T shaped acceleration as he pushed it gently forwards, the main engines firing up and smoothly sending the bulk of the capital class towards the exit of the dock, crowds cheering in the halls that lined the dock itself. The ship was a monolith, the pinnacle of elfish technological achievement. The outside of the vessel was painted a glossy black, with the word *H E L L F I R E* imprinted upon the hull on either side. It was approximately twelve thousand meters long, by five thousand meters high at its greatest point and seven thousand meters across. It had fifty missile ports on each side, five ion cannons, a set of six anti-capital class, tri-barrelled plasma cannons, hundreds of Anti-Fighter and Anti-Bomber energy turrets, as well as ballistic weaponry and five hangar bays. The vessel itself was large, but sleek, designed for a combination of speed, durability and firepower. Like all Elfish vessels, it had a perfectly proportioned exterior, the blue plasma of the engines perfectly contrasting to the black hull of the ship. The hull itself was protected by a strong, internally powered supershield which employed a nova core for generation. All in all, it was designed as the newest Flagship for the Imperium's Tenth Generation vessels, a symbol of the Empire's power. It was a weapon and it would be harnessed. Lucien smiled as they cleared the perimeter of the dock and emerged into open space, sighing in relief, "Flawless work helm; Comms, please open a line to the High Council." The communications officer nodded, tapping a few buttons on his console, "Connecting... Line open, sir." At his words, Lucien stood and shifted himself to one knee upon the white metal in front of his chair, right hand curled into a fist and pressed against his left breast, over his heart, as he bowed his head to the silvery-haired ancient that appeared on a spontaneously appearing holographic screen. His eyes, like Lucien's, were possessive of red pupils. However, his irises were black, not gold. "Le'Medre to Hellfire, I take it you are underway, Commander? Rise, be at ease." Smiling, the Elf rose and settled back into his chair, folding his left leg elegantly over his right and resting his elbows on the arm rests of his white chair, bridging his long fingers together, "We are indeed, Lord Le'Medre. Not a ghost of an issue so far, we shall be entering slipstream in a matter of moments." As he spoke, the other man's weathered face broke into a broad smile, "Your news is greatly appreciated by the Imperium, Fleet Commander. You have brought honour and distinction upon yourself and your father, I have no doubt you will continue to perform to his expectations." Dipping his head to recognize the praise, Lucien's peculiar eyes flashed with curiosity a moment, his angelically crafted head canting to the right with curiosity, "As a matter of intrigue, High Lord, what is the status of the siege at the Sanguis System?" His question was almost immediately answered by the dark flicker across the High Lord's face, quickly hidden, "It is continuing, combat is fierce, as of yet we have nothing solid to go on. Do not worry yourself with such matters, though, you are the pride of the Elves. Command your vessel and the others below you with distinction and be rewarded, Lucien Senus." Again, Lucien dipped his head out of acknowledgement, but an acknowledgement of instruction and unspoken penalties for failure. "I will do my utmost to bring glory and honour to the throne, High Lord." At this, a wry smile crossed the other man's features and he chuckled, "Yes, I'm sure you will." Lucien's smile was polite, his tone strangely... dismissive? "Light protect you, High Lord." For a moment, the words were met with silence, then the High Lord dipped his head as a sign of respect, "Come home safely, my prince." The connection cut off and the holographic screen vanished. Lucien smirked, "Well, we know now that the Sanguis siege is failing miserably. No doubt the Dracs've turned that foolish Admiral Dawnblade and his battlegroup into space dust. I suspect the official report will be a valiant last stand to stop an invasion into the inner ring, as if anyone would believe that." Turning to his helmsman, the Elf's tone was serious, "Take us to the front, Helm; Full slipspeed, no delays." He turned away even as the man responded with an enthusiastic "Yes, sir!" and locked in the jump coordinates, placing his hand on the accelerator and pressing his thumb against the red button on the right end of the horizontal bar laid across the two supports that connected the throttle to the pilot's console. "Entering Slipspace in Five..." Lucien leaned back into his chair and the space before them erupted into a crackling vortex of energy clouds and spidery lightning. The helmsman pushed forth the throttle to maximum and the ship was swallowed up by the hole in space, vanishing as if it had never been, the wormhole with it.
	Take the Magic: The Gathering 'What Color Are You?' Quiz.


Hydro14	21 May 2009, 08:39 Post #2
Fanatical Roleplayer Posts: 133 Group: Mentor Member #8 Joined: Dec 25, 2008	Contested Ground, Inner Sphere, Ariphon Debris Field, Command Carrier Chimera. The Bridge of the DUCS Chimera was a room that was round in shape. A quarter of its curved cylindrical face was given over to a large plasma glass view screen that was normally crowded with all manner of tactical readouts, system maps and communication windows. At the moment, however, it was simply acting as a window out onto the endless mass of drifting rock and twisted metal, lit serenely from behind by the light of a yellow dwarf sun. It’s gravity had not been strong enough to create a system of planets but it had drawn in the refuse of aeons of galactic conflict between star systems until the elves upgraded from warp drives to slipstream and so made interception between gravity wells impossible. The walls of the bridge were a dull grey metal with all manner of power conduits sticking out of them. They had purposefully been left unadorned at the captain’s request but it was quite typical of the ships built by the industrial superpower to not have the superfluous fineries that their rivals revelled in so much. Before the view screen were arranged three works stations, belonging to the tactical officer, helm commander and communication officer. Four more terminals lined each side of the room; in clockwise order their functions were shield control, energy regulation, fire control, weapons, fleet command, ground command, scanners, and navigation. At each of these consoles stood a draconian garbed in the military uniform of the Draconian Unified Conglomerate, a pale grey flight suit with black insignia and rank identification. Two doors opened onto the bridge, which was itself set into the forefront of the ship, connected by a metal walkway that ran around the circumference of the room between them with stairs leading down to the control terminals. Lined by a grey steel hand rail, another walkway extended to a circular platform where a master control terminal was situated. At this moment it was unoccupied. The captain was not on the bridge. There came a pneumatic hiss as one of the doors snapped open and an imposing figure stepped onto the walkway and made his way towards the captain’s terminal. He walked with a confident stride that made his grey robes appear to flow around his person. From his attire alone he was recognisable as more than a mere captain, but everything about his demeanour, from the angling of his red reptilian snout and the way he walked with his wings half spread to his manner that seemed to exude confidence and authority, said that this man was something more. This was Hydro, master tactician of the Draconian Unified Conglomerate, Conqueror of a Hundred Suns, and CEO of the draconian battle fleet. Despite all these titles he was, for the moment, lost. “Siren, where are we?” Provided that he could say it with a straight face, it was part of Hydro’s management style to address his crew by callsign as it led to a more relaxed, trusting atmosphere without in any way impairing the chain of command. “And more importantly why are we here and not with the rest of our battle group?” The woman at whom the question was addressed, a draconian who didn’t look much more than 20, turned away from the navigation terminal to answer her captain. “We’re somewhere in the Ariphon dust cloud sir,” she began, “from what we can tell our warp drive malfunctioned and threw us off course by about five light years. We don’t know yet whether our battle group has experienced the same problem or if they arrived at our destination unhindered. We’re out of communication range.” Hydro nodded evenly, this news wasn’t exactly a surprise but he wanted to hear the reports of the technical experts rather than just relying on his own guesswork. He reached up to his earpiece. “Engineering, what the status on our-” He was halted mid sentence as the ship lurched suddenly to one side and he was forced to grab the hand rail. “Report!” he snapped. “Apologies captain,” this call had gone up from a draconian standing by the shield control terminal, blue skinned, male, about 28, “hull damage from the debris field. I’m raising shields to 15% pulse, that should stop it happening again.” “Good work, Sparkx.” Hydro acknowledged with an approving nod, reaching once more for his earpiece. “Engineering, what’s the status on our warp drive?” There was a moment of silence before a voice came across the internal commlink, thick with static. “At the moment all diagnostics are coming back green. There’s nothing to indicate why we had a problem but our best guess would be that we crossed a warp wake, and a big one at that.” “Any chance that it could have been caused by an internal power surge, Razor?” “Not likely sir, there’s no indication that any of the surge capacitors have burnt out. Whatever it was it’s not a mechanical failure on the Chimera.” Hydro nodded, “Then let’s not wait here any longer.” He turned his attention to the helm pilot, “Wayfarer, plot a course for Sanguis V and stand by to engage warp. All hands, battle stations!” A pale blue glow lit the surrounding debris as the Chimera, a massive steel leviathan in the shape of a manta ray, swung around with surprising speed and grace for a ship so large, and vanished into the warp.
	My loyalty is a double edged blade: I will stand by you while what you do is right and just, but I will never support you when doing so would force me to betray what I believe.


Lord Synical	21 May 2009, 09:55 Post #3
Site Douchebag -//- Official Badass Posts: 162 Group: Admins Member #6 Joined: Dec 25, 2008	The slipstream tunnel could only be described as breathtaking, a swirling vortex of pure energy torn through space from one location to another. Bolts of nexus lightning struck the ship and were spread and dispersed harmlessly by the supershield, creating a magnificent display of light at all angles. Within the vessel, all personnel were preparing for battle, final checks being made across all levels, torpedoes fit, cannons manned and fighter and bomber squadrons prepped for launch. The Imperial Flagship was on its maiden voyage, its baptism of fire. Within the white, placating interior of the bridge, Lucien observed his surroundings. The holopanel his tactical officer was studying with an obsessive determination, his weapons officer's calm, cool and collected manner; sitting patiently at his terminal and playing a game of chess to pass the time. His support systems tech, fiddling once again with power distribution throughout the ship, causing the Fleet Commander to silently pray he didn't accidently reroute power from life support to cooling. His gaze shifted to the curvaceous, well-endowed navigations officer, her heels clicking on the metallic floor as she sketched various entry and exit vectors, as well as the fastest evasive courses for the helmsman. Satisfied that his crew was sufficiently prepared, Lucien pressed a button on the console on his right arm rest and spoke calmly, "This is the captain speaking. All crew report to your battlestations and prepare to exit slip. We're jumping into a firestorm and have a long and arduous prospective cleanup before us. I trust you will conduct yourselves in a manner befitting the best of the best of the Imperium's soldiers. Make me proud." He deactivated the PA system then, no cheers or whoops filling the bridge. They were trained, disciplined, and ready. Immediately, a whirring alarm surged throughout the vessel, sending elves of both genders sprinting to man their stations as Lucien himself settled more comfortably into his chair, shifting to cross his right leg over his left leg instead and bridge his fingers again, the picture of calm superiority. "Helm, bring us out of slipspace, easy does it." As instructed, the vessel began to slow smoothly, eventually leaving slipstream and - to those watching - appearing in a sudden, brilliant flash of white light amidst a sea of carnage. The battle was raging in full swing as Lucien's eyes snapped to and fro, scanning the area with practised scrutiny. "Tactics, I would like strategic readouts, if you would be so kind." Without bothering to respond, the eccentric tactical officer conjured up a blue-tinted Heads Up Display on the viewing screen, the Elf immediately targeting priority vessels for destruction, some discarded for new ones as they were destroyed or suffered crippling damage. Plasma, ballistic weaponry and warheads moved constantly between both sides, the sea of elfish and draconian vessels mixed together in a dizzying spectacle. The bulky, less slimline draconian craft, however, were easily identifiable amidst the sleek, stylish elven vessels. Reading the tactical analysis, Lucien pursed his lips in thought, pondering his actions carefully. He could either charge in to announce his presence, or he could wait and watch, analyse the situation and see the vessels that were doing the most damage to the demoralized, but fiercely fighting elfish vessels. He also had the ace in the hole in the form of the Tenth Generation battlegroup awaiting his signal to jump in, waiting two systems away just out of range of the draconian probes. Without moving his gaze from the HUD, Lucien addressed the communications officer, "Comms, open a line to Admiral Dawnblade, please; If not him, then the next ranking officer." The communications officer replied with a quite "Yes sir!" and a moment later a clean hologram appeared of a large, grizzled elven officer (as grizzled as an elf can be) shouting orders and cursing violently. Upon noticing who he was looking at, his eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. "P-prince Lucien! We weren't aware you would be com--" Lucien held up a hand coolly, his gaze the picture of soothing placidity, "Easy now, Commander Sunheart. We understand you are in need of assistance, this vessel shall supply it. I will be taking command of the battle from here, appointing you as my steward. You will regroup the fleet and take up a defensive position, await further instructions and coordination protocols. This battle is not over yet." Nodding to his comms officer, the line was severed immediately, the prince smiling softly to himself. "Sir!" It was the communications officer, "We're being hailed by the Draconians, they don't recognize our vessel. It's not in their database." Smiling at this, Lucien chuckled softly, "No, I don't believe it would be... Open a line." Complying, the elven soldier brought up a holographic screen again, this time of an angry, though amused looking Draconian. "Greetings, my scaly friend." The captain snorted fire from his nostrils, his black scales glittering in the light from the holoscreen on his own end, "And exactly who would you be, elf?" Lucien smiled, giving a friendly, almost taunting salute, "Crown-Prince Lucien 'Flameweaver' Senus, The Star of Illaria, Lord of the Nether Reaches, and Duke of the Crystal Sea. It's a pleasure." The Draconian's viridian eyes imitated the reaction of Sunheart, "But you--" and then the line cut off, closed by Lucien. "That should sufficiently engage their bloodlust. Let them charge our defensive line and be slaughtered. Weapons, tell them where we are." In response, the Hellfire's weapons officer locked on the forward plasma cannons to a stray Draconian cruiser and fired, the ship twinkling for a second before exploding like a balloon in gold and blue flames, its reactor having gone critical. Lucien smiled, "It's good to be back in the fight."
	Take the Magic: The Gathering 'What Color Are You?' Quiz.


Hydro14	21 May 2009, 11:11 Post #4
Fanatical Roleplayer Posts: 133 Group: Mentor Member #8 Joined: Dec 25, 2008	In comparison, the view screen of the Chimera’s bridge while in warp space was relatively dull. Bluish lines of Cherenkov radiation caused by the prow of the ship moving at ten times the speed of light formed around the edges of the screen but aside from that there was nothing but the inky void of space and a star system dead ahead growing steadily larger. All the warp drive essentially did was neutralise the mass increase that an object attempting to travel faster than light usually experienced. Hydro was leaning in an uninterested manner on the edges of his console, his eyes raised to the screen ahead, or more accurately, the back of the head of his communications officer and the rare polychromatic wings folded against the back of her uniform. “Sefie, as soon as we disengage warp I want you to open a channel to the Manticore assuming it’s here and have Fang transfer fleet command to me.” “Yes, sir.” Sefie replied, entering the codes so that all she had to do once they were back at a sensible speed to the Doppler shift on their communications wouldn’t garble the transmission was press confirm. Allowing his concentration to slip for a moment, Hydro reflected that Sefie was one of the few members of his crew who he didn’t use the callsign for. Perhaps the description was accurate, but why anyone would want to call themselves ‘Rainbow Cutie’ was beyond him. “Disengaging warp in 5…4…3…” “Thank you, Wayfarer.” “2…1… Conventional drives online.” “Transferring energy from warp to shields.” “Raising forward shields.” “Scanning for targets, tactical overlay active in 7.” Shapes were beginning to take form on the main viewscreen that was now almost totally occupied by a gas giant. “Sir, we’ve come out of warp on the far side of Sanguis V, the fleet is currently in battle over Sanguis IV.” “Thank you, Siren. Give Wayfarer a course to take up formation with the fleet.” Turning his attention to two more draconians standing by the fire control and fleet command terminals, he spoke to the pair who were yet to be involved. “Judge, Hawk, you know what to do.” “Still pending transfer of fleet command, sir.” The ship was beginning to move towards an intense fire fight at its fastest sub-light speed. “Sefie, talk to me.” Hydro was more than a little frustrated that he didn’t have fleet command and it showed in his tone and in the faint flickers of flame curling from the edges of his mouth as he spoke. “Fang isn’t responding to our hails, sir.” “Force open a channel on my authorisation codes.” “Yes sir.” The face of the same draconian that Flame had taunted appeared in a small window in the top right of the screen, which was now sporting tactical readouts of all the ships engaged in conflict. The icon that was now surrounding the silhouette of a large draconian battle carrier was flashing yellow to indicate open channel. Occasionally an icon would flash red to show damage taken. “Darkfang, I should have you keelhauled! Transfer fleet command, this instant!” Hydro roared at the screen. “Apologies, commander. Just give me a few moments to get that arrogant son of a-” “I said NOW, Fang. Why is your ship moving out of formation?” “The elven prince is here, sir, I’ve got a lock on his ship, on its own in the middle of nowhere a few kilometres from the battle.” “Get back in formation, he must have a backup group one jump away. Judge do you have fire control now?” “Yes sir.” “Right, let’s finish this then. Fang, next time I give you and order I expect you to follow it at once, not five minutes later or whenever you feel like it.” He signalled to Sefie to close the channel, getting increasingly irritated by the minute. “All hands, fire at will.” As the Chimera made a pass along the front line of the draconian formation, firing its long range weapons against the elven fleet moving back into a defensive line behind the orbital weapon platforms, Hydro turned his attention to his tactical officer. “What type of ship is the elven prince flying?” he demanded. “I’m not certain, captain, it doesn’t match any of our blueprints and we’ll need to get closer for a proper scan.” “Just give me maximum weapon range, Diviner, and then forward that as a no-go zone to Hawk, I don’t want to engage that vessel until I have to, besides, he can’t do much back there.” As he spoke he had stepped down from his console to peer over the officer’s shoulder at his console, but now he returned to his own terminal, vaulting over the handrail. “Forward commands to the fleet, have the artillery cruisers fire EMP warheads towards the defence platforms then have the cruiser group move into weapons range while their turrets are down and clean ‘em out. Once the platforms are down have the destroyers move in on the remains of the fleet and make a breach through which we can begin landing ground troops.
	My loyalty is a double edged blade: I will stand by you while what you do is right and just, but I will never support you when doing so would force me to betray what I believe.


Lord Synical	21 May 2009, 12:16 Post #5
Site Douchebag -//- Official Badass Posts: 162 Group: Admins Member #6 Joined: Dec 25, 2008	As the Manticore broke ranks, Lucien's sly smile increased, anticipating the enemy vessel's fiery demise, just as the Chimera warped in. A few moments later, the Manticore reversed its engines and wheeled oddly in a looping manoeuvre back into formation, causing Lucien to blink once in surprise. 'A shame', he thought wryly, 'I would have enjoyed showing off a bit more.' Canting his head at his Heads Up Display, he silently read the naming and his eyes twinkled with recognition; 'Ah, Hydro, good to see you here.' Old adversaries were the best kind and the Draconian was the Fleet Commander's oldest, a thorn in his side and Lucien in his for decades. He felt the surge of adrenaline race through him in anticipation to facing the Draconian in the Hellfire, its weapon systems were nothing like what his rival was used to - nothing like what he normally expected. "Tactics, give me a call." "Fleet holding position in a defensive box position, battlecruisers are taking most of the punishment." "What's the ETB (estimated time to breach) of the Draconian Fleet?" "At this rate, only a few min-- Sir! The lizards just fired EMP warheads at our orbital platforms." "Can we intercept them?" "Negative sir, the blast wave would knock out any ships that tried, they'd be sitting ducks." "Have the crews of those platforms destroy their data." "Already done, sir, they deleted everything and set fire to the hard drives." "Is the Hellfire's battlegroup ready to jump?" "Just awaiting your signal." "What's the status of the fleet, are they holding?" "Not for long, they'll start breaking up soon." "Order them to aim for the frigates and destroyers, the bombers will take care of the battleships." "Done, sir. We just lost the Eternal." "Light be with them." "All vessels have prioritized, bombers and fighters are acting." "Good, prepare to signal the battlegroup to stream in on my signal. We'll let the Draconians simmer, withdraw the fleet for a regrouping over the planet as soon as those destroyers are down." "Won't be a fleet left to withdraw at this rate, sir, we've taken out a quarter of their destroyers but we just lost the Searing Flame." "Light... alright, bring them back slow, and don’t let them become disorganized." "Yes, sir." Lucien looked on calmly as the elven vessels began an orderly withdrawal, one of the Imperium's battleships flashing blue and exploding at the centre, drifting into two pieces and creating two smaller explosions. He was seemingly impassive, but the loss of life affected him deeply. These were his people, his people. Their suffering was his duty to end, he would do that, for the sake of the generations to come, that they might be spared the harsh world of war. Pressing his fingers flat together with a satisfying cracking sound, the Fleet Commander turned to his navigations officer, "Navigations, please formulate us a course to rendezvous with the fleet. Have them split to make room for our battlegroup." The female elf nodded, her voice like velvet, "As you will it, so shall it be, my prince." Turning from her with a faint smile, he looked to his helmsman, "Helm, follow the assigned course to the fleet, put us in our pre-determined position to head the battlefleet. Order Sunheart to form his vessels up behind us. Let the Draconians feel the fury of the Empire." The helmsman had no enthusiastic reply this time, instead taking a brief moment to examine the suggested course before activating the Hellfire's engines, the monolithic flagship turning visibly to move swiftly towards the separating elfish vessels, Lucien's gaze fixated on a spot in front of the withdrawing imperial vessels. As the Hellfire slowly manoeuvred into position, its form shifting to drift in a graceful arc and move into a position at the head of the arrival point for its escort battlegroup, of which it would be the spear tip. Chuckling softly at the enemy Destroyer remnant’s vain attempts at puncturing the Hellfire's shielding, Lucien remained transfixed on the screen, which had long since locked onto the enemy vessels on the flagship's original approach. "Weapons, fire forward plasma batteries at the three enemy destroyers - one destroyer per barrel, which should give them a shock." With a quiet affirmative, the weapons officer opened fire. Before them, three Destroyers went up one after the other as the white bolts of energy ripped through them. The Hellfire lived up to its name, its plasma gun barrels red hot from the attack, coolant systems already working to prepare them for another volley. "Sir, Battlegroup ETA Ten seconds." Lucien smiled, genuinely pleased, "Thank you Comms. I am curious as to the reaction of our enemies." As if on cue, fifteen tenth generation capital class vessels appeared in one-after-the-other blind white flashes. Two battleships of the same sleek, powerful design of the Hellfire save without the exponential size and fairly less firepower took up positions on the flagship's flanks, whilst two carriers and a super carrier mimicked the position behind the three vessels. Beside each carrier was a battlecruiser, both ships stronger than any other vessel in the group save the Hellfire itself. Above the formation floated three destroyers, with three more below and two battleships covering the rear of the group. All in all, it was an impressive sight, the Hellfire with the Revolution and Redemption on its flanks, the Supercarrier Leviathan in the midst of the two carriers, Beast and Shield, those two guarded on each far flank by the Battlecruisers, Freedom and Justice. With the three Destroyers, Oblivion, Ultimatum and Decimation above and their partners, Reaper, Genesis and Revelation below the fleet and finally, protecting them all from the rear, the two Battleships Eclipse and Absolution. "Comms, open a link to the entire Battlegroup." Lucien said, his tone cool and complacent once again. "Link opened, sir." Was the response as the holoscreen flash into existence, the prince smiling warmly at the fifteen faces on the grid-segmented screen. "Light be with you all. The time has come to show the Draconian Unified Conglomerate the full might of Imperial technology. Are you prepared, brothers and sisters?" The silent nods were all he needed as he dipped his brow, "Link up to the Hellfire's computer, the Draconians will not attack us yet. Their Commander is no idiot, he's fully aware of our technological advantage. If he's smart, he'll withdraw and start a long ranged bombardment. If that should happen, reroute power to your shields. They will hold, but your offensive capabilities will be next to non-existent. The Hellfire, Freedom and Justice will, however, still possess enough power to destroy any vessels that are foolish enough to come within weapons range. Remain vigilant and prepare to move out, we will claim Sanguis IV for the glory of the Empire." The channel was closed soon after as Lucien observed the Draconian fleet, curious. "Comms, I want you to hail the Chimera, let me speak to her Captain." The order was carried out immediately and, when the link opened, Lucien smiled warmly. "Hydro, my dear old friend, how have the years treated you? It's been too long since last we danced. I see your ship is as healthy as ever. You're probably wondering why I'm here; which is obviously for the same reason as you. The Oryxium Ore deposits are the Empire's, Captain. You may outnumber us, but I'm positive you realize our firepower far surpasses your own. Attack us if you wish, you may even manage to dent one of our hulls, but until those vessels of yours are upgraded you will not survive a battle against this ship nor its escorts. Withdraw from this space and you will be spared." His words were not triumphant, nor arrogant. They were merely factual, as if he knew everything without any doubt and was merely sharing the knowledge with a less informed, but equally intelligent individual.
	Take the Magic: The Gathering 'What Color Are You?' Quiz.


Hydro14	21 May 2009, 14:20 Post #6
Fanatical Roleplayer Posts: 133 Group: Mentor Member #8 Joined: Dec 25, 2008	The Chimera took a stationary position above the Manticore and the Cerberus as the remnants of the existing attack fleet pressed in upon the broken elven fleet. As one of the larger capitol ships broke apart the captain observed with a pensive expression. How many people had been on that ship? How many would have had the chance to reach the escape pods in time? Judging from the way they had continued firing to the last minute before the hull fragmented it was possible no evacuation order had been given. The draconian had no respect for captains like that at all, it was all well and good to decide that your own life was worth throwing away in a senseless battle but no-one had the right to make that decision for another, let alone a whole crew. None the less, they were the enemy, the ones who were intent on driving the Draconian Unified Conglomerate into the dirt and claiming all the richest resources in the galaxy for themselves. One more dead now meant one less to kill another day. It didn’t mean he had to be proud of it. “Sir, our front line frigates and destroyers are being targeted by the enemy’s heavy weapons, in a few moments the forward battle group will be open to attack from the enemy’s fighters.” Hydro glanced across at Hawk and leapt down from the console once more to speak only to him. “Can we move the battleships to the front of the formation and use them as a shield?” Hawk tapped a few buttons and flight paths appeared on his console but the green marks that represented conglomerate ships were vanishing too fast. Eventually he shook his head, “They’re too far back.” Hydro nodded grimly, “Have Fang launch his fighter contingents and use them to screen the battleships from bombers.” He moved across to Judge’s console and traced the enemy’s front line with his claw. “These ships need stripping of their anti-fighter turrets.” He told him, “Make it happen.” From the other side of the room a call snatched Hydro’s attention. “Captain, Fang says he hopes you’re doing something to cover his fighters.” “Tell him I’m not as stupid as he seems to think, Sefie.” In truth the Manticore had only been added to the Chimera’s battle group a few weeks prior to these events, it was only fair that he had not yet earned the trust of her captain, however questioning his orders in the middle of a battle was not something Hydro intended to let slip. “Enemy fleet is pulling back, sir, they’re regrouping in low orbit.” “Thank you Mastermind,” The captain moved over to stand before the main viewscreen, just to the left of his tactical officer who had spoken to him. “Move all ships into high orbit above them and prepare to-” “That may not be wise sir, the Hellfire is moving to support them, our left flank is being brought into her weapons range.” Hydro mentally kicked himself for losing sight of the bigger picture for a moment. “Pull them back and-” He cut himself short as three ships exploded, their icons lingering for a moment before they winked out on the view screen. “Diviner, talk to me, what happened?” “They were shredded in a single shot sir, three destroyers.” Hydro had to admire the level tone with which his sensors officer delivered this news, “Enemy weapons are overheated but they’re flooding coolant.” “Engage a thermal scan and find the coolant pipes in the cannon hardpoints, forward that data to the flight computers of our fighters in the hanger. Then give me a full scan of that ship, I want to know top speed, hanger capacity, turret firing arcs and I want to know about any blind spots on their main guns.” The draconian now turned his attention to his energy management officer, a solemn looking green draconian who liked to call himself Cell. Hydro had never asked him why and didn’t intend to. “Get ready to give Sparkx all the auxiliary power for the shields if the Hellfire turns her guns on us.” Right now the best strategy open to the elves was probably to disable communications on the Chimera and so cut off fleet control, Fang had already proven himself to be a less than capable commander. “Slipstream signatures detected.” As Diviner gave this call, Hydro vaulted once more back to his own console and brought up the expected arrival points of the elven re-enforcement fleet, they were in formation with the Hellfire, already having taken up position with the remainder of the defence fleet. Hydro spared just enough time to mentally compliment the elves on their newest navigation computers that enabled them to come out of slipstream so deep in a planet’s gravity well, then ordered his fleet back beyond the wrecked orbital defence platforms. He greeted the arrival of Flame’s battle group with a raised eyebrow, then glanced sideways. “Diviner?” “They’re all experimental designs, we’ve got nothing on them.” “We’ll have to play this one by ear then.” The draconian examined the elven formation, bringing up dimensions between vessels and comparing it with the Chimera’s wingspan. The burn marks on the command carrier’s hull were testimony to the fact that the draconian did not consider himself above getting stuck in with an enemy fleet at close quarters. He raised one hand to his chin thoughtfully as he analysed the elven Prince’s deployment. If it weren’t for the battlcruisers bringing up the rear he would’ve simply commanded the Chimera to fly straight through the middle and loop around behind them. “Sefie.” “Yes, captain?” “Send a message to the fleet commanders attacking Sanguis II and III, tell them any units they can spare would be most appreciated.” “At once sir- Oh, we’re being hailed.” Hydro hesitated a moment before answering. “On screen.” His reptilian maw split into a broad grin as Flame’s face came onto the viewscreen. He endured the elf’s goading in good humour, then responded in kind. “Flame, loving the new wheels. It looks a bit like one of those hover cars that’s really just a shouty engine when you take the bonnet off.” He shook his head in mock sympathy, “Seriously, though, why did you get the model with the matt black finish? I hate to tell you this but you can’t really camouflage yourself against space, if you wanted to hide you should have gone for something smaller. Ah well, it’ll be a real shame to scratch the paint.” Before he could continue, Sefie leapt up from her console so that she could be seen on Flame’s viewscreen. “Hi Flame, do you remember me?” she asked cheerfully, with a seductive flick of her forked tongue. Her expression changed to a hurt one quickly and she added a mock pout as she continued. “You never called after our last party.” It was all Hydro could do not to crease up as she continued in a heartbroken tone “How could you do that to me? You really made me think we had something.” Hydro shook his head in mock disapproval. “She’s not pleased with you, old friend.” He paused in his jibes for a moment as a voice came into his earpiece, it was Diviner. “I’ve got scans on all his ships. The supercarrier is straining its engines to maintain low orbit and the Hellfire’s main guns are going to overheat like that every time they fire. Nice job stalling captain, Sefie too.” “Ok.” He whispered back, then faced Flame once more, this time more seriously. “The Conglomerate needs those resources and you’re hopelessly outnumbered, nice guns or not. Turn your tail and flee now and I’ll turn a blind eye to the number of my men you killed last time we met.”
	My loyalty is a double edged blade: I will stand by you while what you do is right and just, but I will never support you when doing so would force me to betray what I believe.


Lord Synical	21 May 2009, 22:34 Post #7
Site Douchebag -//- Official Badass Posts: 162 Group: Admins Member #6 Joined: Dec 25, 2008	The prince chuckled softly at the Draconian woman's coy comments, tilting his head to listen with a mixture of amusement and sharp awareness. One white brow rose curiously as he was berated as if by a lover. His crew was silent, giving the Prince cursory glances out of the corners of their eyes, perhaps wondering his relationship with this Draconian Captain, Hydro, and their attention diverted from Sefie. The way they spoke would be reminiscent of former comrades or actual ones, forced to battle against their will. But the more intuitive ones saw beneath, to the burning rivalry, the searing desire to prevail over the other. For Lucien, this was more than the Imperium or Conglomerate; this was between him and his greatest foe - It was a match made truly in hell itself. "Long range scanners are detecting vessels approaching our position, sir." The murmured message was too low, filtered out by the elves' voice trackers tactically. Lucien never moved his gaze from Hydro, smiling as he finished, "I suppose you've ordered reinforcements, my friend? Ah, alas, the novelty is wearing thin. You see, you anticipate my own confidence will overrule my better judgement. I am not going to pursue you, Captain, not at all." At this, his eyes flashed with what could only be called assured victory, "You are failing to compensate for something... my battlegroup has the most advanced technology in the Galaxy at this moment in time. There is no ship, no weapon, that can surpass the Hellfire or her escorts. On top of this, there is a rather angered defence fleet on our six o'clock prepared to have their vengeance on you for the death of their comrades. Admittedly, yes, we are outnumbered and no doubt you will capitalize on that. We are not, however, out gunned. I have no qualms with revealing that this vessel and the two battleships on its flanks are more than capable of holding out against a fleet of ten. In fact, the Hellfire herself possesses eighteen nova-powered supercharged plasma cannons. We could hold out against a fleet of twelve. Alone." Making a show of peering about the bridge, as if surveying the battlefield, Lucien look back at Hydro grimly, "The defence fleet will be covering us on all sides, with the Hellfire itself spearheading if we should decide to attack. I assure you, my old friend that no matter what formation you use - even if you initiate a scatter tactic, we will mow down your vessels without once breaking formation. I will also tell you that the Supercarrier we are protecting is shielded to an extent that even this vessel would be hard pressed to destroy it. It does not, however, possess much in the way of weaponry, as you no doubt are aware from your scans. Have you noticed them coming back messy yet? We employ astronomical radiation now, courtesy of our Nova Cores. Pulling a full scan on any vessel equipped with the generators is impossible, the radiation scrambles the sensors unless you have them attuned to it." Calmly unfolding his right leg from over his left and placing his left over his right, he sighed as if the entire business was tiresome. "I would advise you to call in reinforcement from D.U.C High Command if I were you, O conqueror of a Hundred Suns." The title was said with mild respect, for once no hint of mockery, oddly enough. "I have never been false to you in our conversations, nor have I failed to live up to my word. You have seen this and you know doing any less only makes you below me, which neither of us could bear the shame of. You are my greatest enemy and dearest friend, Hydro. I only pray you can see when it is time to fold and withdraw. I am open to hails, send one when you are prepared to give your answer. Until then, plan desperately, for an attack will be your demise." He shifted his attention to Sefie, "My dear, I will do my best to call this time, unless you were to tell me I destroyed something when we danced. That would indeed be troubling." He closed the line with a polite smile and turned his attention to his bridge crew, who were staring at him with stunned silence. It was natural, he surmised, that they would be shocked at him for revealing even the smallest advantage that they had. But to lay out an entire battle plan to the enemy commander and give him time to counter it evidently hit madman on their radars. Smiling, Lucien gave them all soothing looks, his eyes firm and confident, "I have fought Hydro the Draconian for many decades, friends. He is a master tactician, a ruthless foe, a powerful nemesis. He is the single greatest militaristic threat to the Empire and his arrival almost always spells quite certain disaster for our forces. However, he is also a man who prides himself on his sincerity. What he says, he will do, because he refuses to be seen as a lesser man than I am. I have given an offering, now we will see if he takes it or throws down his own." Seemingly with their fears assuaged, the crew of the Hellfire began to take target locks on the enemy fleet, the tactical officer compensating for a possible reinforcement group as he murmured to himself. Lucien surveyed the formation with mild amusement, noting the position the Chimera was in for a direct pass at the mid-rear section of the prince's tenth generation battlegroup. "But of course," he murmured, "You know I would have compensated for that." Tactics raced through his mind even as he spoke, pulling up a three dimensional battlefield readout and pondering. "Comms, signal the defence fleet to begin reinforcing the surface and give the Leviathan clearance to deploy her decsent pods. I want the planet to have a heavy Imperial presence before we engage the Draconians. Navigations, please plot us an attack course to circle the enemy fleet. I want to go above them at forty-five degrees and come down and around in the same manner without breaking formation. Leviathan, Beast and Shield won't be able to keep up during the manoeuvre, so assign them to detach and form with the defence fleet for the reinforcement attack. Have their fighter and bomber wings launched as soon as they're in the protective scope of the defence fleet. They'll be vulnerable mid-transfer, so we'll bring the fleet up, yes?" Both station officers nodded their assent and began carrying out his orders, the Fleet Commander content to sit back and allow events to unfold. The reddish surface of the planet below brought back memories of the times in battles past; when he and Hydro had been forced to glass entire planets to stop one another claiming them. He merely hoped with all the power of the Light that it would not come to that. The Sanguis system was incredibly rich with Oryxium and the ore was vital to the continued production of the Tenth Generation vessels. With the deposit in the Empire's hands, they would be able to field an entire new armada of Tenth Generation vessels. The Draconians would match them eventually, they always did, but if production was fast enough they could rampage through and possibly break the hundred year stalemate that had been established. With more vessels like the Hellfire, Freedom and Justice; the Empire would be nigh unstoppable for a period of time. He could already taste the glory. But first, he had to secure the planet and that would happen, one way or another. "What are our scanners picking up, tactics?" The man shook his head with a sigh, "Nothing out of the ordinary sir. They're calling in help, just as you said and organizing themselves for best possible defence without sacrificing full firepower. Their fighters have been launched, but they don't have a clear reading on the amount of AA we have. They could launch a thousand and they'd never make it to the Leviathan, not with the Destroyers and Hellfire here." Lucien nodded calmly, "Thank you, Tactics. Keep me informed." The man saluted the prince off-handed, "Yes, sir." His crew was competent and his enemy was no fool, a blood bath would possibly be spared from happening. But only fools trusted in possibilities.
	Take the Magic: The Gathering 'What Color Are You?' Quiz.


Hydro14	22 May 2009, 07:47 Post #8
Fanatical Roleplayer Posts: 133 Group: Mentor Member #8 Joined: Dec 25, 2008	Hydro glanced sideways at Diviner as Lucien stated that his power cores were making scans impossible. As the commlink went dead he turned to his sensors officer. “Can you verify this?” “The radiation does interfere a bit with our scans,” Diviner replied, “but if he thinks I can’t compensate for it then he’s a retard. It’s no different from scanning someone when they’re sitting next to a star. I’ll admit that we can’t commence internal scans to determine power output, shield strength and hanger capacity and that we can’t see the power conduits.” “So we don’t know how much they can overcharge their weapons?” That was of concern to Hydro, he liked to know just how much damage his shields were likely to take from a single salvo if his enemy should choose to transfer all their power to their weapons. “I don’t think the Hellfire is capable of overcharging, captain, the heat generated by a single standard shot is immense.” “You’re confident the thermal scans are accurate?” “Positive captain,” Diviner chuckled slightly, “if his nova cores were generating enough heat energy to interfere then it would also have cooked all his crew. We’ve got the hull design schematics from echo sensors and from the shapes we’ve identified the weapons hardpoints. The coolant systems on the Hellfire’s main guns should still be our primary target, once they’re gone he’s got two, possibly three shots from each cannon and then they melt.” “Fifty-four shots is still a lot if each one can punch a hole in a destroyer.” “Captain!” “Yes, Sparkx?” “I think I’ve found a way to reduce damage all our ships take from a hit like that. The projectile moves slower than, say, an ion cannon or a lance laser, so I think it’s possible to pulse the shield at maximum strength and then switch back to a standard overshield before the shot hits.” “We received data from the ships that were hit, correct? Does the maths add up?” “Yes sir.” “Then forward those plans to all of our ships. If it takes two shots to shred one of our destroyers then we just doubled our chances.” Hydro smiled, it seemed like this might actually work. “Wayfarer, after we’ve commenced our opening manoeuvres I want you to keep us inside the Hellfire’s shield range for as much of the time as possible, we don’t know how much power his ship can use so we don’t want to have to eat away his shield. Sefie, what backup can we expect?” “There’s a battle group coming in from Sanguis III, captain, a battle carrier, two missile ray cruisers and their destroyer escort. We’ve also got a pair of battlecruisers with their fighter compliments and frigate groups but they’re a few minutes out.” “Ok then, if we can’t hold the line until they get here then we must be getting steamrolled so badly that they couldn’t have made any difference anyway.” “Sir, we’re being hailed again. It’s the Cerberus.” “On screen. Blade, good to hear from you, what’s up?” “Commander, my engineers have found a problem with Sparkx’ plan for the shields. Our destroyers can’t meet the power requirements of such a strategy without cutting all power to their engines or their weapon systems. They can survive a hit but they’ll be sitting ducks afterwards one way or the other.” “Well at the very least it should give the crew time to get to the escape pods.” He signalled to Sefie to close the channel before adding. “Next time I contact high command remind me to tell them that my requisition for better power plants on our destroyers was not- How did chairman Toth put it, ‘totally surplus and reminiscent of a spendthrift,’ I believe?” There were a few dry laughs from around the bridge but without any true humour. Hydro raised his voice once more, speaking clearly and in a controlled manner as he began making battle plans. “Judge, we need to strip his ships of their topside turrets first so that our fighters and bombers can safely operate in the area. Our missile ray cruisers will be best for this as their missiles can go right through an enemy’s shields, so Hawk, that means you and Mastermind need to make sure they’ve got a decent escort once they arrive, we already know our destroyers won’t hold up to those capitol ship guns. “Siren, I want you to plot a course that will take us at the enemy formation head on as if we mean to fly straight through them, then loop down under them at the last moment. Don’t worry about bringing us inches away from the Hellfire’s prow, Wayfarer can handle it. Warmonger, I want you to target their forward main gun as we pass, then switch your target to the central destroyer on the bottom of their formation and pound it with everything we have. Siren, that means we’ll need to be inside their shields at that point, make sure you let Warmonger know when that’s happened. They’re going to do a lot of damage to us on our approach vector, so Judge, we need the artillery cruisers pounding their forward shields so that they can’t overcharge their guns. After we pass the destroyer group I want a half loop that will bring us out right here.” As he spoke, the draconian waved towards the viewscreen, causing a green dot to appear where the firing arcs of the elven ships turrets all failed to encompass save a few. “We’ll be right in the engine cone of this battlecruiser, so forward shields are a must have, Sparkx. That places us in the blind spots of their turrets as well as putting their hull between us and the Hellfire. Once here I want to start ripping off their anti-fighter turrets. Now Lucien has told us that he intends to hold formation, but he’s not that much of a moron. I expect that the other battlecruiser and the destroyers above his formation plane will drop back level with us to get a better shot. When this happens we dart forwards beneath the Hellfire, placing her between them and us and rake her with overcharged ion cannons as we pass. Cell, take power from anything you need to do it but not shields or sensors. As we do this I want Diviner assessing damage done to the anti-fighter turrets and giving readouts to Mastermind so he can decide whether or not to launch fighters. “Hawk, when the top plane destroyers drop back I want the main force of our fleet to go co-planar with them and advance into the breach in the formation. Our remaining destroyers should fire their torpedoes at the topside of the Hellfire as we pass her, hopefully they’ll think our overcharged ion cannons are the greater threat and keep an overshield up instead of pulsing to defend against the torpedoes. This should rip up the remainder of their topside turrets. The last remnants of our cruiser group should then spearhead an assault that will take Blade and the Cerberus right into the heart of the enemy formation where he can launch his bombers. Judge, if anyone has a clear shot into the enemy’s hangers with anything I want them to take it, the less of their fighters that ever get into the air, the better. “Is everyone ready?” A chorus of ‘yes sir,’ filled the bridge and Hydro nodded appreciatively “Ok, Sefie, let Lucien know we mean business.” As the channel opened, the draconian met his nemesis with a cold glare. “You had your chance to withdraw,” he informed him, “you didn’t take it.” Without waiting for a reply he signalled to Sefie to close the channel, which she did after sneaking in a imploring “Try not to do too much damage to his ship please, captain, he won’t look nearly as cute if he’s caught in an explosion.” “Lucien’s splitting his formation.” Mastermind mused, checking his sensors once more to check he wasn’t seeing things. “He’s leaving his carrier group with the older vessels of the defence fleet, they are taking up geostationary orbit and deploying drop pods.” The tactician was taking up a genuinely confused tone as he continued, “Commander, this is idiocy; his carriers are almost totally open to us. Surely he can’t expect the crippled defence fleet to hold us back?” Hydro jumped down from his terminal and stepped closer to take a look at Mastermind’s screen. “Look at the anti-fighter defences on his carriers though,” he cautioned, “we’d have to move our capitol ships into close range and- Yes, look at the rest of his formation, their course will bring them in behind us. It’s a trap, but at least the main force of the experimental fleet is now without much fighter support. We’ll go ahead with the plan as described, just check that the blind spot hasn’t moved. We don’t know just how powerful his new ships are and we don’t want them to be between us and our way out if this turns south.” “Yes sir. The enemy carrier group is launching fighters and bombers; they’re forming a screen and heading towards us.” “Have Fang recall his fighters for refuel and repair, then re-launch them to engage the enemy fighter screen at close range, priority is to be given to the bombers. While they’re refuelling, have the artillery cruisers fire their diffraction ion beams at the fighter screen before they can engage the Manticore, maximum spread.” Judge tapped a few buttons on his console, forwarding commands to the cruisers and moments later three blue beams of light lanced through space towards the elven fighter group. Though the narrow beams hit nothing, when they reached their intended range they detonated in expanding spheres of plasma, tearing massive rends in the fighter screen. “Heavy casualties,” Mastermind reported, “but the enemy fighters are now inside minimum range.” “Judge, change their target to the experimental group but leave us a flight path. Focus fire on a single ship to try to burn out their shield emitters.” It probably wouldn’t work but it never hurt to try, and at the very least Diviner would be able to get some useful data about the enemy’s shield strength from how it reacted to the impact. As Hydro vaulted back up to his console, he saw the icons appear on the view screen for the missile rays and their battle group as they transferred fleet command to the Chimera. Lucien’s battle group was between them and him. “Caught himself between the hammer and anvil.” He chuckled. “Sefie, open a channel to the battle carrier.” As the face of a blue draconian came up on the screen, Hydro wasted no time getting the information he needed. “This is commander Hydro of the Chimera to battle carrier Allecto, what fighter craft do you have in your hangers?” “Commander, we have three wings of fighters and two bomber groups, the rest of our complement was lost at Sanguis III.”the draconian replied, her voice sounded battle weary but determined none the less. “Understood, captain, thank you for coming, when this is over I’ll owe you a drink. Have your battle group engage the enemy formation from the rear when my group makes their assault. Pick targets for your missile rays that will maximise damage done by bomber craft and try to keep your destroyers out of the firing arcs of the command cruiser. As I’m sure Hawk has already made you aware, their main guns are deadly.” Sefie closed the channel and Hydro took his place once more at his terminal. “Right. Let’s do this.” The Chimera surged forwards, the rest of the battlegroup forming up into their respective divisions for the plan that Hydro had described, the cruisers taking position ahead of the Cerberus for her charge while the destroyers and the remnants of the original attack fleet took position above the battle plane, ready to move above the Hellfire if the opportunity presented itself. The artillery cruisers hung back with the Manticore, their long range ion cannons and torpedoes hammering into the forward shields of the battleship on the Hellfire’s left.
	My loyalty is a double edged blade: I will stand by you while what you do is right and just, but I will never support you when doing so would force me to betray what I believe.


Lord Synical	22 May 2009, 09:20 Post #9
Site Douchebag -//- Official Badass Posts: 162 Group: Admins Member #6 Joined: Dec 25, 2008	Lucien's eyes flashed with excitement as his communications and evidently sensory officer gave a calm pronouncement that they were caught between two approaching fleets. Of course, Hydro knew that the prince would never retain formation, but he never thought that he would prepare for this scenario, amongst others. Refolding his legs once more, he tapped a button on the console pad on the right arm rest and opened a channel to his battlegroup, "Friends, I do believe it's time to show the Draconians our true natures. Freedom and Justice will split off from the fleet and deal with the approaching reinforcements. Eclipse and Absolution shall go into full reverse with both Destroyer groups, the Hellfire will make a full advance with the Revolution and Redemption following her. We will make the pre-assigned arc whilst the others form a defensive line. Destroyer groups, position yourselves around the Eclipse and Absolution in a six pointed star formation; angled with your hulls to the battleships and main guns covering the largest possible area of effect." Once the Captains had their orders, Lucien calmly glanced to his tactical officer; "Tactics, please pulse our shields at regular intervals, I don't want anything ballistic coming through." The man nodded, immediately carrying out the order as the prince glanced at his helmsman. "Redirect power from the rear Plasma Cannons to our engines, helm. I want full speed on our spearhead." The man moved immediately, fingers dancing as he brought the command to fruition, a slightly smile on his lips. "It's done, sir. You really think they underestimated our capabilities?" Lucien smiled back, watching his HUD. "Oh, I know they did, helm." The entire experimental battlegroup had fissured. The two battlecruisers had reversed their engines and descended, their engines roaring to life as they moved to intercept the approaching battlecarrier and carrier contingent, as if they alone could stand against the fury of the enemy's small fleet. The Destroyers had also made a full reverse, with the two flanking vessels in each of the tri-ship formations moving upwards in the case of the bottom formation and downwards in the case of the top formation, facing the bottom of their vessels to the two battleships sitting in the centre. The battleships themselves automatically turned in different horizontal direction, with the Eclipse turning itself upside down, In this they had covered every possible plane of attack and formed the perfect defence. It was unconceivable the fleet could pass them without heavy to crippling losses, not with their current trajectory. The Hellfire and its two escorts were another story, soaring towards the enemy line with seemingly reckless abandon. What would be visible to energy-dependant scanners was that their shields had almost meshed. The Hellfire's force pulses had a ripple effect on the other two ships, protecting all three from most missile strikes. As the enemy fleet closed in, Lucien smiled coolly, "Target the enemy's leftovers and pitch us up at seventy degrees inverse, helm. Weapons, give me a firing solution on the Chimera." As the Hellfire and its two escorts began the manoeuvre, the weapons officer responded with the same coolness as the prince, "Solution ascertained, forwards plasma batteries and ion cannons prepared to fire." Chuckling softly, Lucien glanced down at the Chimera. His vessel was upside down now, arcing up towards the no doubt bewildered enemy defence fleet. "Fire one volley from the far forward battery at the Chimera and load broadside missile tubes one through fifty with sunbreakers." The gun barrels pounded as the front half jerked backwards with the force of the recoil, ejecting three large bolts of white energy towards the enemy Command Carrier, Lucien already shifting his focus to the lurking vessels above as a volley of plasma hurtled also from the Revolution and Redemption, aimed at two of the protecting cruisers in front of the Cerberus, the Fleet Commander no longer worrying about them as his Heads Up Display locked onto the remnants of the enemy fleet. His smile vanished, his expression grim as the reaper himself, "Full volley across the board. Send them to be one with the Light." The orders were carried out as the Hellfire and its two escorts released a full frontal battery attack with Ion, Ballistic and Plasmatic weaponry in their inverted pass over the enemy fleet, several vessels breaking apart and exploding. "Helm, divert power from forward guns to rear batteries and reduce speed, bring us to face them broadside." It was as he requested, even as the Hellfire shook and the Revolution lost a recently used plasma cannon in a plume of fire. Unperturbed, Lucien nodded once and murmured "Fire at will" to release the fury of one hundred missiles, fifty from its broadside with twenty-five from each of the Battleships, the rear plasmatic and ionic weaponry booming into the enemy fleet, slicing through them even as the missiles that survived the enemy's defensive turrets hit home, some into debris and some into enemy vessels, ripping them apart in furious explosions that lit up the blackness of space. The prince bowed his head a moment at the massive loss of life, heedless of his crew, though they themselves felt the weight of their actions. This was war, these were his enemies and he did what had to be done - but it did not mean he would be forced to relish the death he created. Yes, his adrenaline surged and he felt filled with victory, but at what cost? Regardless, his raised his eyes to see a final vessel explode and what remained withdraw, all sparking and flaming with damage with yet another carrier abruptly exploding mid-flight, its reactor out of control. Lucien allowed the others to escape, in no mood to hunt down the helpless. Instead, he turned his attention to the battle raging between his Destroyers, Battleships and Hydro's fleet, as well as that of his Battlecruisers. He had destroyed the sideliners, now was the main event: Hydro himself - but first... "All hands," he began, taking a breath to steady himself before continuing, "Lock onto the Manticore and prepare to destroy it and the artillery frigates. Redistribute power to original sources and order the Revolution to shield itself behind our hull. Repair any damage sustained and prepare for re-entry to battle." Once more, the spearhead charged.
	Take the Magic: The Gathering 'What Color Are You?' Quiz.


Hydro14	22 May 2009, 11:39 Post #10
Fanatical Roleplayer Posts: 133 Group: Mentor Member #8 Joined: Dec 25, 2008	As the Chimera closed in upon the elven battle group, Hydro frowned at the viewscreen. “He’s changing formation.” he heard Mastermind musing, and then a more concerned exclamation, “The blind spot is going!” At the same moment Siren announced that their flight path was obstructed as the Hellfire surged forward. Wayfarer pulled up, avoiding all but one of the shots from the enemy flagship’s main gun. “Shield is holding,” Sparkx reported, “but I’m going to need more power if we take many more hits like that.” “We won’t.” Came Wayfarer’s confident reply. Hydro raised an eyebrow at being forced out of the conversation arc, but elected not to challenge it at this time. “Fall in above the Hellfire, move inside their shield and open fire.” He instructed, and the Chimera swung around like a colossal metal bird of prey to descend upon the enemy flagship. “Locking weapons.” Warmonger reported, tapping his console to lay in a sweep for the ion cannons that would take them across three of the Hellfire’s main turrets. Before he could fire however, the ship shook violently. “They’ve engaged a pulse shield, we’re too close and the pulse is damaging our hull.” “Match frequency Sparkx.” “I can’t, their battleships are pounding us with plasmatic weapons, if I switch the shield they’ll shred us!” “The enemy are on an intercept course with the remains of our fleet, they are powering weapons.” Hawk’s report have Hydro cause to pause for a moment as he continued, “It’s too late to get them out of weapons range, they are already committed. The enemy is tightening their formation to overlap shields.” As the Chimera dropped back from the three enemy ships to get out of the shield pulse range, the vessels streamed by beneath her, coming up on the viewscreen from beneath, their hulls almost touching. “That is some neat flying.” Wayfarer whistled appreciatively. “Or a good AI.” Siren speculated. “I’m sending our cruiser group at the enemy ships,” Mastermind announced, “They’ll try to stick their hulls between the enemy vessels and force them apart.” Hydro seized on the opportunity quickly, instructing Judge to have the artillery cruisers let rip with everything they had onto the Hellfire as soon as it was no longer covered by the battleship shields. These measures did not, however, come in time to save a large number of vessels in the Hellfire’s path. “Sir, we have another problem.” “What is it Hawk?” “The enemy battlecruisers have split away from the formation and are on an intercept course with the Allecto and Sylph’s battle group. She’s adamant that she can get through them but I told her to hang back for now.” “Good call; she doesn’t know how powerful those guns are.” Hydro raised his voice, realising this was going to take his full attention and that Sparkx, Wayfarer and Warmonger were still awaiting guidance. “Mastermind, you have the bridge. “Tell her to pull back and wait for the group moving up from Sanguis II and then to attempt to break through but not to take any unnecessary risks. We need to restructure our fleet, regroup them against the Hellfire and her flanking vessels and try to hit them hard once their shields are split.” “The enemy is now in striking range of our back line,” Hawk pointed out, “The Manticore and the artillery cruisers are about to come under fire.” “Pull them back, keep them out of range and try to drawn the Hellfire forwards, if we can get him far enough away from- What in seven types of hell is Fang doing?” While all this had been going on, Mastermind had been commanding the Chimera to the best of his ability, rolling down alongside one of the battleships, and bringing the wingtip ion cannons of the command carrier to bear upon the vessel’s broadside from within the overlapping shield. Hull damage was significant, but not compromising. Hydro’s attention was fixed on the Manticore however; it was turning away from the battle. “I’ve lost fleet command to the Manticore.” Hawk stated. “Fang is ignoring our communications.” Sefie seconded. “He’s powering his warp drive.” Diviner diagnosed. “Fucking cowardly shit head!” Hydro roared. The Manticore surged forwards and vanished in a flash of blue light. “Establish communication with Fang’s wing commanders, tell them we’re making the Chimera’s hanger bays available to them and-” Hydro staggered back from the viewscreen, shielding his eyes from a blinding flash in the vicinity of Sanguis II. At the same time a communications window opened on the screen, garbled and heavy with static. For a few moments it persisted, indecipherably, then cut out altogether. “Sefie?” Hydro inquired. “I’m not sure captain, I think he said something about a very big shit.” “Warp signature detected, it’s not ours.” “I think our missing word might have been ship, not shit.” “Why do you think that, Wayfarer?” Hydro inquired, glancing across at his helm commander whose eyes were ardently fixed on the viewscreen in disbelief. By means of response, he simply pointed at the screen and said “That.” Hanging in space just behind the elven battle group and above the battle plane was the largest ship that Hydro had ever seen. It’s prow alone dwarfed all the elven ships before it. A sleek chrome monstrosity, it lurked, poised above the warring factions, observing in the manner of an awakened god the conflict that was to it neither threatening nor important. Bristling with ion cannons, turbo lasers and weapon systems that the draconian couldn’t at a glance put a name to, the prow extended before the main body of the vessel on a boom that was itself the width of the Hellfire in diameter, like the neck of a vulture craned over carrion. At the point where it intersected the body, a rotating disk covered the hull, which Sparkx quickly identified as a gravitonic shielding device, adding a whispered ‘but I thought the theory had never been put into practice.’ Four bizarre domes were situated on the main body of the ship, positioned as at the points of a compass, where the main guns would be expected to be on a traditional battleship. The hull was entirely grey, save for a single word emblazoned in red across its side. ‘ARCANIA.’ A silence had fallen across almost all of the crew, except for Sparkx who was nattering away to himself about how he assumed the alien vessel must work. ‘At least someone’s having a good time.’ Hydro thought dryly to himself. “Diviner?” he inquired, hardly daring to break the silence. “You want my professional opinion captain?” “Always.” “Ok then. We’re fucked.” Hydro blinked. “Energy readings are off the scale.” Diviner elaborated, “It’s got more guns than the Fort Draconis and I haven’t even started to try to work out what those domes on the sides are for but you can bet it won’t be good.” “It’s just floating there.” “Yeah, and you be grateful that that’s all its doing, captain, because if it wanted us dead we wouldn’t be standing here discussing it.” “Hail them.” For once, Sefie had no enthusiastic acknowledgement; instead she silently tapped away at her console for a moment, and then turned to face him. “No response.” Hydro wasn’t surprised. The whole battle had stopped around them, like a movie on pause, so he decided to try something a little unorthodox. “Hail Lucien.” As the channel opened he greeted the elf with a dry grin. “I’d ask you if you like my new ship but I have a feeling that that old trick isn’t going to wash. I know it’s not one of yours because it would look a lot more poncey and a lot less functional. So now we’ve established that it’s not one of yours and not one of mine, who’s is it?” Edited by Hydro14, 22 May 2009, 11:58.
	My loyalty is a double edged blade: I will stand by you while what you do is right and just, but I will never support you when doing so would force me to betray what I believe.


Lord Synical	22 May 2009, 12:20 Post #11
Site Douchebag -//- Official Badass Posts: 162 Group: Admins Member #6 Joined: Dec 25, 2008	Lucien's reaction to the warping out of the Manticore was a faintly amused lift of his brow, but he didn't authorize pursuit, knowing full well Hydro would probably rip the scaly coward's guts out by means of a claw to the rectum. Satisfied by this, he scanned the battlefield with a cursory glance, his ever present look of slight disinterest plastered upon his pale features. Clicking his tongue, he turned to look at his tactical officer, "Tactics, give me a reading." The man nodded, tapping his holoscreen and launching into his report; "We've suffered minor hull damage but the ship isn't badly affected, the Redemption and Revolution are reporting some fires and are unable to use their main guns due to a coolant system rupture, but it's nothing they can't rectify at Nevarax or Illaria. The battle itself seems to be progressing well, through I fear we've sustained some casual--" He was interrupted by the communications officer, his tone urgent, "Warning! Massive warp signature detected, it's... this is impossible!" Without waiting for Lucien to explain, he brought up the readers from the Imperial probes, the energy flash detected hit critical their charts, higher than the output of a small star. "Sir, a reading like this must be a glitch, vessels like this just don't exist!" At that moment, a blinding flash lit up the viewscreen and when the Fleet Commander opened his eyes, they opened wide indeed. Set before them, hovering at its leisure, was the largest vessel he had ever laid eyes on. Its hull itself dwarfed some of the Elven shipyards and its weaponry came up blank on almost every level in their databases. Composure broken, Lucien let slip a simple "Oh fuck me" before he retained control of himself, his bridge crew however seemed just as shocked. "Well, Communications, I do believe we just proved vessels like this one do indeed exist. It's not draconian, though something that ugly would fit right in with their armada. I want a full diagnostic, power, fire capabilities, engines, shields, coolants, hangar capacity, hangar number dimensions, everything you can give--" He was cut off by the communications officer's grim voice, "Forgive me sir, but, we're being hailed. It's the Chimera." Lucien paused a moment, then nodded, relaxing himself quickly, "On screen." For once, the face of his arch rival was a blessing, as the prince saw the same worry in him reflected by the Draconian's crimson eyes. He listened with his usual good humour to the sobered, dry manner in which the opposing Commander spoke, the seriousness of their situation not lost on either of them. In response, Lucien sighed heavily, one of the most emotional things he could do. "I'll be blunt with you, my friend; I have no idea in the name of whatever you want sworn on what that thing is, what it wants or how we're meant to grant its request. What I do know is that it may be best if this one time we agreed to a mutual ceasefire and proceeded to gain some dist--" This time, the tactical officer interrupted, speaking so even the Draconians could hear; "Something's happening with the vessel sir, its power readings are spiking. It... Look at its midsection!" Indeed, the Arcania's middle had begun to rotate, revealing that the four disks placed upon on the top, sides and bottom were installed onto a mobile platform attached to the ship itself. As it began its revolution, the disks pulsed golden and emitted short pillars of yellowish energy which increased in length before the tops erupted and slivered outwards, joining together and creating an ethereal dome around the vessel even as its middle rotated faster, the dome hardening as the makeshift webbing Was spread around the cocoon faster and faster until there was nothing save a massive, shining golden bubble, protectively placed around the impossibly massive ship barely discernable at its centre. Abruptly, a lance of energy from the dome itself erupted from the surface of the bubble and pierced through Sanguis IV's atmosphere. For a moment, only a bright flash showed evidence of the beam's impact... then the planet seemed to shudder and from the impact point serpentine red lines began snaking their way across the planet's surface, much to Lucien's growing horror. "By the Light... Hydro, I think it best if we made ourselves scarce before the entire planet goes critical, or it's going to take us with it. I'm reporting this to the High Council, I suggest you do the same for the Board of Directors. I pray you a safe journey home, old friend, you and your crew - especially my dearest Sefie." With a nod and grim smile, Lucien severed the link, pressing a button and opening a link to every (remaining) member of his battlegroup and the decimated defence fleet. His own horror was mirrored in their faces as they kept shooting glances at the planet. "All vessels, I am giving a priority order to evacuate this space and use slipspace to return directly to Illaria itself. You will submit detailed reports to me during the journey, which I shall present to the Emperor and High Council. Light be with you all." Darting one glance at the quickly disintegrating planet, Lucien barely repressed a gasp as the Arcania's energy dome lanced another bolt, across space towards Sanguis V. He knew what was happening, it was utterly annihilating the entire solar system, but for what purpose the prince had not a clue. Instead of wasting time pondering, he glanced at his helmsman, expression dark; "Get us the hell out of here, helm, to Illaria directly." The Helmsman nodded, wordlessly activating the slipstream generator even as Sanguis V began to go critical, elven vessels vanishing in white flashes all around as the Hellfire herself made the jump, just as the Arcania released another energy lance.
	Take the Magic: The Gathering 'What Color Are You?' Quiz.


Hydro14	22 May 2009, 13:25 Post #12
Fanatical Roleplayer Posts: 133 Group: Mentor Member #8 Joined: Dec 25, 2008	“Hawk.” “Captain?” “Recall all fighters.” This command went out as soon as Lucien had responded to the hailing, when the elf began to suggest a cease fire Hydro quickly cut across. “I agree, we need to assemble a defensive formation and give our tactical officers time to analyse the alien vessel’s capabil-” He fell silent too as the elven tactical officer spoke up. He glanced sideways at Diviner who took the hint and spoke up. “We’re detecting anomalous readings from the- 7 hells, is that a capitol ship or a space station?” “Cut to the point, Diviner.” “Yes sir, power levels are spiking, we believe that the energy is being manipulated and trapped between two layers of shielding to allow it to build up. I estimate it’s capable of discharging it in single burst quantities exceeding 400 terra-joules.” “You mean giga-joules, right?” Warmonger questioned. “Nope.” “Save the data readings, Diviner,” Hydro instructed, “if we can achieve a complete diagnostic it might be useful at a later date.” All of a sudden, the viewscreen lit up as a beam of light lanced towards the planet from the Arcania’s energy shell. “I’m reading a tremendous amount of thermal energy at the impact site, captain, I- Oh my god, it’s causing sub-atomic fusion of the rock in the upper mantle!” “What exactly are we witnessing here, Diviner?” “I…” a short pause as the draconian examined his screen once more, “I think it’s the death of a planet, sir! The weapon is forming a superheated hyper-mass, dense as a neutron star and its sinking into the mantle. When that reaches the core it’ll cause instantaneous expansion of the metallic compounds at a rate so great the planet’s gravity won’t hold it together.” “While I’m sure the science behind this is all very fascinating,” Hydro replied dryly, watching the elven ships jump to slipstream, “how rapidly do we need to make our retreat?” “I’d say no more than 40 seconds, sir.” “Are all the fighters back yet? Hawk?” “It’s… just ignoring us…” “Hawk!” “Ah, sorry captain, negative, they’re not back yet.” “Tell the other ships to jump to the rendezvous, we’ll stay for the last fighters.” “Sir, there’s no time and we can’t help them if we’re dead.” “This isn’t open to discussion, Mastermind. Siren, plot us a course to the rendezvous, I want to go into warp the moment the last fighter is aboard, in the mean time, position us in the shadow of the Arcania, it looks like its built solidly enough to take a bit of planetary debris for us.” “Sir, their weapon is powering again.” “Just hold it a little longer, Wayfarer. Hawk, what’s the status of those fighters?” “The last wing is making their approach now.” “It’s firing.” “Sparkx, focus shields on-” The Chimera trembled ominously, sparks flying from several command terminals and everything went dark as a massive crack split across the main viewscreen, the main source of light. There came a cry of pain from somewhere near it, then something struck the draconian’s head. The last things Hydro heard before blacking out were the voices of Hawk and Siren. “Fighters aboard.” “Entering warp.”
	My loyalty is a double edged blade: I will stand by you while what you do is right and just, but I will never support you when doing so would force me to betray what I believe.


Lord Synical	22 May 2009, 14:34 Post #13
Site Douchebag -//- Official Badass Posts: 162 Group: Admins Member #6 Joined: Dec 25, 2008	The Hellfire and its battlegroup, as well as the bedraggled defence fleet, appeared in high orbit over what could only be called a super planet. Its surface sparkled blue and green in the light of its golden sun, a continent of pure crystal at its northernmost point sparkling visibly even from space. For some time, the crew of the Flagship admired the planet and the millions of orbital defence platforms protecting it, as well as the steadily circling armada. Over a thousand ships, all assigned solely to the safety of the Imperial capital, the homeworld; Illaria. Smiling softly as he gazed at the crystal sea - his crystal sea - Lucien released a relieved sigh, his eyes moving to the HUD on the view screen as he noticed with a pang that he had lost the Reaper and Ultimatum in Sanguis. Whether they had been sunk by the draconians or the planet going critical he didn't know; only that he had lost the Empire two very expensive, very important vessels. Such was war. Uncrossing his legs, Lucien rose fluidly to a standing position, towering at an impressive seven feet, hands clasped behind him in a standard at ease position as the Fleet Commander surveyed the area, speaking to his helmsman in a soft voice, "Helm, take us into the royal dock. I will meet immediately with the High Council. If the dock is taken, send my authorization code and tell them if they refuse to move, I'll strip them all of their land and maroon them in Kirath Prison System." A few tentative chuckles rippled across the bridge and Lucien joined in. They were all shaken, it helped to laugh, "Also, order the defence fleet under Sunheart and our own battlegroup to proceed to High Command for repairs and resupply, we may be redeployed very soon." As the Hellfire broke off and soared smoothly towards the monolithic, spherical docking station circling the planet in low orbit, Lucien gave the crew some parting orders to send for him if he was needed and granted them permission to have some rest and rejuvenation for so long as they weren't needed, the prince himself leaving the bridge through the white blast doors connected to the catwalk on the right rear end of the bridge. He barely noticed his surroundings or the salutes as he moved quickly through the vessel, entering a turbolift to the middle hangar wordlessly. As he stood there, the levels of his vessel flashing by, the prince could only wonder how Hydro had fared; had the captain made it to the board safely? Was he delivering his report right that second? He could not be sure, but he hoped with all his being that it was so. When the doors of the lift unlocked and parted, Lucien strode out with an authoritive gait, nodding to some pilots in their new flight suits as he stepped onto a hoverdisk, entering his identification and passcode into a holographic keypad that appeared and remaining still as the creation rose and - true to its name - hovered over to where his fighter, The Phoenix, was waiting; the new black and red coat painted on before the maiden voyage of the Hellfire seemed appropriate, adorning the one-man fighter that looked so like a bird of prey. Forwards angled wings, a dipping hawk-like nose, slimline like all elven craft and 'poncey' to a fault. Hopping lightly from the hoverdisk to the cockpit, Lucien dropped neatly into the pilot's seat and strapped himself in, the glass covering above sliding silently into place and locking with a satisfying hiss and click whilst Lucien underwent a thumbprint and retina scan to power up the fighter's core, the panel before him flashing with a multi-coloured array of mostly decorative bright buttons as he peered at the three dimensional holomap that appeared before him, selecting his destination as the Imperial Palace before activating the hover and bringing the fighter up off of the ground, retracting the landing gear and turning the fighter craft one hundred and eighty degrees, sliding forwards the throttle and flashing out of the hangar in a burst of blue plasma, spiralling twice as he entered and exited the atmosphere, flipping to atmospheric flight and soaring through the cloudless blue sky towards the massive golden construction that was the Imperial Palace. The countryside flashed by him in a blur as he passed over it and into the air space of the capital city, a staggering super city that spanned the majority of the central continent of Illaria. Not another ship could be seen in any direction, evidently long forewarned that the Crown-Prince was making his approach to the palace. No doubt the crowds below would be jabbing their fingers and jumping up and down excitedly as they saw the tenth generation fighter craft soar overhead in a roar of plasma, causing some of the smaller metallic spire-like buildings to tremble from the force of the engines. Ahead was his target, one of the smaller square landing pads illuminated by a border of blue lights to display its availability. Slowing his thrust, the prince pulled his fighter around and slammed the air brakes, activating the hover the moment he had come to a near standstill and smoothly easing the fighter craft downwards, deploying the landing gear and setting it down upon the pad with a satisfying thump, deactivating the engines and flipping it to a standby phase, the mobile part of the glass hatch sliding backwards as he stood in the cockpit, peering about with a smile and vaulting easily from the elevated cockpit, ten feet above the ground, to the metal of the pad itself. No attendants or escorts awaited him, they knew he would neither need nor desire any, he never did. Taking a moment to fully absorb the calm, soothing atmosphere of the utopia he had landed in, the prince set off onto the catwalk joining the landing pad to the palace, his hands clasped behind him at the small of his back as he strode swiftly towards the monolithic palace doors upon the elevated walkway above the large palace gardens - rather, palace forest - below, each one of the doors were at least two hundred meters in height. Stepping through, he smiled politely at the guards who glanced at him and then he continued on. They never saluted, nor bowed, nodded or knelt. He wasn't the prince right then, he was merely another Imperial Starfleet Commander. Making his way through the palace was hardly difficult; after all, he had grown up there. Its halls were as much a part of him as they were of the planet, every inch of the construction bringing to mind images of his youth, of innocence and young life. Smiling thus, he approached the massive throne room at the centre of the palace, the crown guard at the doorway lowering their plasma spears (halberds with energy blades) to block his entry until he stated himself. When he did, they lifted their weapons without comment, standing stock still as they were trained. Lucien's lips gave the slightest amused twitch; so little had changed. Advancing down the blue carpet leading to the throne of sparkling crystal at the back of the cavernous, multi-pillared and adorned hall, the prince sunk to one knee before it, the six members of the High Council arrayed three a side, three women and three men as ancient as his father, all with the same silvery hair of age. Each Emperor chose a new High Council and this one had aided the aging Emperor Senus rule for nearly five centuries, going on six. Upon the throne sat an imposing white-robed figure, his chin propped upon his right hand curled into a fist, eyes a match of red pupils and golden irises, hair the colour of snowflakes. He was ancient, there was no doubting it, but his presence of power was all consuming. Lucien could feel it peering at him, assessing him, judging him with all the authority of the gods themselves. How could he ever live up to that precedent? "Rise, my son." The words were gentle, but filled with a power that pervaded every molecule of Lucien's being. Obediently, as commanded, he rose to his full height, facing his father proudly. He as the Crown-Prince, the Emperor had acknowledged him. At this, the High Council went upon bended knee, showing the proper respect for the heir to the Empire. Wryly, Lucien realized quickly that they were hoping he would choose men and women from their houses to constitute his own council, or possibly to garner for himself a wife; a curious thought. Not one for silences, the Emperor spoke, addressing his son formally, "Prince Lucien, what have you to report of the Sanguis Campaign? Are the Oryxium deposits in our possession?" For a moment, Lucien paused a moment before answering, his expression giving away nothing. "There were no deposits to claim, father." High Lord Le'Medre, whom had been silent the entire time interjected quickly; "Preposterous, my prince. We saw the scans oursel--" The Emperor held up a hand and the man stepped back obediently, silent and respectful once more, "Though I do not agree with his words, he is correct. There are Oryxium deposits in Sanguis, Lucien, we all know this." Smiling grimly, the Crown-Prince shook his head again and spoke quietly, "Not anymore." At this, there was dead silence, in which Lucien could feel the council attempting to bore into him with their eyes. The Emperor, cool and collected as his son, questioned him calmly; "What mean you, my child?" Lucien smiled remorsefully and slipped a holodisk from his pocket. Holding it up, a small holographic sphere appeared in which was relayed the events of the battle and the Arcania's appearance, as well as reports from each vessel's captain pertaining to their authenticity. For some time, the Emperor was silent, deep in thought. To Lucien it seemed as if his great father had indeed grown older, begun to feel the weight of his office. His shoulders were not as straight, his hair less of white and more of silver and his great presence seemed somewhat diminished, though he put on what he lacked, as if he was making up for a strength that was slowly degenerating. Finally he spoke, his tone decisive, "You, my son, will go to the Geneva system. On Geneva Prime, you will meet with a Draconian representative. I will contact the Board of Directors myself and inform them of your pending arrival. Meet their representative and brief him on what we are willing to do in terms of cooperation with the Conglomerate to vanquish this megalithic foe. Go, my son, with the Light behind you." Lucien left without a backwards glance, his footsteps steady and assured as he passed the crown guard assembled on either side of the carpet, each and every one kneeling with their heads bowed, fists over their hearts, plasma spears held straight in respect. Passing through the doors, the servants, guards, nobles, officials and soldiers wandering the halls all stepped aside and dropped to their knees in similar showings of fealty to crown and country. To Lucien, it seemed more that they knelt more out of obligation, which he understood was no less than to be expected. He had reconciled himself some time ago to the fact that some people detested him simply for being himself, for having a power they did not, a claim they had no authority to challenge. For his eyes, his very blood signified him as the heir to the rulership - the only one who could tap the true power of the crystal throne. Upon exiting the palace, Lucien paused, glancing to his right and smiling at the lush greenery below the palace itself. The structure, massive, was built over a lake which was said to be the source of the elves’ immortality, a well of potent magic that only the true Emperor could tap and draw from. Of course, no had actually seen the lake and since only the current Emperor could confirm its existence, it was perplexing and a mystery which was heavily debated. Regardless, the sheer beauty of the forest surrounding the palace always took Lucien's breath away. Tearing his gaze from the environment, the prince strode out onto the catwalk leading out to his ship, glancing once wistfully at the massive stairs leading from the palace to the city before they were swallowed by the trees. Moving swiftly along the catwalk towards the hovering landing pad, he quickly climbed the ladder to his cockpit and fell into it, moving the craft from its standby phase and allowing the protective glass to slide into place with its familiar hiss and click before he enabled the hover setting, pulling back on the control to raise it into the air and then flick a switch to retract the landing gear, locking in the Hellfire to the holographic map, announcing his intended course to the air traffic control stations. Locking in his flight path and confirming the trajectory, Lucien accelerated just as he flicked off the hover, surging forwards in a spray of blue fire and ascending fast, past the first layer of atmosphere as a red glare built up all around him, dissipating as he erupted into space at low orbit, taking a moment to switch to zero gravity flight before directing his sleek aircraft towards the shining form of the Hellfire. "Flameweaver to Hellfire, requesting clearance to land?" The reply was nigh on instantaneous, his communications officer grinning at him, "Clearance is yours, Commander. Welcome back." Lucien nodded, smiling back to the lad, "Good to be back, comms. Order the ship prepped for immediate departure and have navigations--" The communications officer cut across, nervously, "She's not here, sir, she went to get some rest in her quarters, would you like me to call--" The Fleet Commander shook his head, "No, that's quite alright comms. I'll get her myself." The younger man nodded, relieved, "Thank you sir, Hellfire out." Lucien's approach was simple; he went through the blue energy curtain that protected the hangar from depressurizing and sucking everything out into the void of space. Landing amid this musing, the prince was out of his cockpit and inside the turbolift for the bridge before he even realize what he was doing. Frowning, he stopped the elevator and pressed the button for the officer's quarters, feeling the lift ascend once more and stop barely seconds later, opening to a gleaming white corridor that lead off in two directions; left and right. Stepping out and taking a moment to gather himself, he picked the right path, eyes casting curious glances around him. He'd never been to the crew quarters other than to glance at them; he had no idea where the Navigations officer would be staying. It came as a surprise, then, to see his target drifting serenely, almost seductively into a room five doors down on the left side of the corridor, a slight smile tugging her lips beneath the frame of crimson hair. One white brow lofting in surprise, he approached her door with a strange sort of apprehension filling him. Nerves? What had he to be nervous of? Brushing away the feeling with a mental duster, he waved his hand over the blue panel set into the right side of the doorframe and it slid open with a hiss, allowing him inside, peering curiously at the decorated living space. Various strategic maps and navigational pathways were displayed on holoscreens littered around the white walls of the room, a single viewing screen showing the plant below as he stepped further inside... which is when he felt the soft, silky smooth hand on his shoulder. Spinning around, Lucien was met with the feel of something warm and urgent against his lips, something insistent. Taking a moment to realize, he noticed the thing felt moist, it was soft, moving... lips! He was being kissed! His eyes found a shock of red hair and something clicked in his head. Breaking the kiss and stepping back, he felt warmth flood his cheeks; his assailant's own turned a deep scarlet. She was - he had to admit - breathtaking. Naturally lithe, she wore her form well, the white uniform with its two blue stripes of rank on each shoulder fit snugly around her bust, which was in itself perfect for elfish eyes; small, but not tiny, perky was the best way to describe them: A perfect set of C-Cups. Her midriff was exposed, pale skin of her stomach shining in the room's light as she raised a hand to brush her hair behind one ear, heels clicking when she stepped forth, full lips set in a pout that made Lucien swallow and step back from her, heart pounding. "Navigations, this is hardl--" She pressed a finger to his lips, purring, "I'm off duty, my prince. Just call me Katrina." The prince could barely even believe what was happening or start to consider why, it had been so unprovoked and sudden, and she barely even knew him. What in the Light would cause her to lose her senses and do something that could result in her discharge? The answer to anyone else would likely have been blatantly obvious but to Lucien, the only probability that came to mind was that she was under the influence of some kind of drug. Raising his hands instinctively to stop her, he instead found her sliding hers around him, moving in to press her warm form against the Prince's own with a sense of certainty that baffled him. Preparing to reprimand her finally, he was stalled by her own words, soft against the material of his uniform. "I was only young when I first saw you, barely two years under your own age and yet it seemed like an unconquerable distance. You were on the palace steps, waving at the crowds on your first day or military service. You looked at me then and I felt something, something I'd never felt before, like a surge or spark or recognition. It was just a glance, but your eyes met mine and it was enough. I entered the military because of that, Lucien, entered it for you. I love you; I always have and always will, you're my soulmate." The clarity of her words astounded him, threw everything out of focus, brought up long forgotten memories. He remembered, his father urging him outside, the way his stomach fluttered at the immensity of the group as they cheered and called his name. His eyes raking them, brushing over someone with a pang. He had looked back and found only a space and because of that he had disregarded it, buried the memory. But here she was, in the flower of maturity, breathtaking and beautiful - a navigations officer worthy of the Hellfire. Without knowing it, his arms wrapped around her in a consuming hug and he closed his eyes. She was right, it felt proper, everything fit into place. He didn't think he was in love, no, that would come with time - but certainly he had feelings, an electric certainty of fate. Yes, this was how it was all meant to happen. "Fleet Commander Senus to the bridge." The call rang over their heads, startling them both as Lucien instinctively pulled away, quickly stopped by Katrina, "Remember me, Lucien Senus, remember this feeling." He blinked at her tone and then smiled his soft smile, leaning forth to gently kiss her forehead. No more words were spoken as he departed, knowing she would arrive at the bridge some time after him, though he heard her heels clicking on the metal of the corridor as the lift doors closed and he began to ascend, the white flashes of each level's passing illuminating his still-smiling face. He recomposed himself, smoothing his white uniform as he stepped from the lift, his black boots making barely a sound as he approached the blast doors to the bridge, waving his hand over a blue panel on the right side of the door frame, just as he had in the officer's quarters before entering Katrina's room. As the blast doors slid apart, he strode inside coolly, calmly, collectedly; down the catwalk and the small clump of stairs towards the pristine white captain's chair, stepping in front of it and sinking down into its welcoming, leather-padded embrace. He remained tactfully casual as Katrina entered, once again pristine and confident, her heels clicking on the metal catwalk as she strode down and across Lucien's elevated platform, down the stairs to her glass grid-screen, tapping the holopanel upon the terminal at its base and causing the blue lines on the grid to light up, immersing herself in her work immediately. A flicker of a smile passed her lips as she nodded at Lucien and turned back to the screen, the prince turning away as well to face his expectant helmsman. "Helm, the Hellfire has been given a priority assignment to the Geneva System, upon the surface of Geneva Prime. The fleet will not be going with us. Disengage dock and prepare for a level six slipspace jump." The order was carried out and the alert went out upon the ship, even as the vessel detached from the dock, the helmsman keeping up a commentary. "We have disengaged the docking ring, setting engines to reverse and initiating a one hundred and eighty degree turn for slipspace jump..." He paused, carrying out the manoeuvre, "Turn completed, coordinates locked in - thank you Navigations - and course set. Awaiting your order, my lord." Lucien glanced one last time at Illaria, his home and then turned to the viewscreen, resting his elbows on each armrest and bridging his fingers, left leg folding calmly over his right. "Activate Slipstream." The wormhole opened and the Hellfire vanished within it.
	Take the Magic: The Gathering 'What Color Are You?' Quiz.


Hydro14	23 May 2009, 11:53 Post #14
Fanatical Roleplayer Posts: 133 Group: Mentor Member #8 Joined: Dec 25, 2008	Hydro groggily opened his eyes, he felt like his head was spinning and the acrid taste of blood in his mouth told him he must have bitten his tongue at some point. At first he wasn’t convinced that his head wasn’t spinning, until the white plastic finished roof above him came into focus. That wasn’t good, there was only one room in the ship that was surfaced in plastic to make it easier to sterilise. He must be in the infirmary. Attempting to blink the last of the blurriness from his vision, he groaned as the act of creasing his forehead awakened a dull pain above his right brow. Raising a crimson scaled hand to the source of the ache revealed a slightly raised bump about five centimetres in diameter, but no serious damage beyond that, for which the draconian commander was most grateful. Slowly flexing the muscles in his neck, which had become painfully stiff due to the hard infirmary mattress, Hydro attempted to recollect the last few moments before losing consciousness. He remembered the blast of the Arcania lancing out towards the Chimera. He remembered an immediate warning light flashing up on his console, telling him that the shields were completely down. The ground had been shaking as if the hull was splitting open, and he recalled everything going dark around him as a massive crack spread through the viewscreen, splitting it into almost even halves from top to bottom. There had been a yelp of pain and then a deafening crash that had sent his senses reeling, it had come from straight ahead so it was logical to assume that part of the viewscreen had fallen to the floor. The next thing he remembered was blinding pain in his head which had made his footing a bit unsteady, the following pain in his side must have come as he fell against the handrail before hitting the ground. Attempting to sit up, Hydro found that this last impact had left another nasty bruise, but the fact that he was still fully clothed suggested that he hadn’t been impaled by anything that would have required the cutting of his garments to remove. Bruising appeared to be all it was. Winning his brief battle against a regiment of headaches, the draconian swung his legs over the side of the bed, intending to make his way back to the bridge with all haste and find out just what condition his ship was in, when something gave him pause. The bed adjacent to his own was occupied by a figure covered by a thin cloth blanket all save for the head and wings which stuck out the sides. At first he wasn’t sure who he was looking at, or more accurately his mind attempted to evade the realisation, but from the cute, stubby, almost beak-like snout and the multi-coloured wings there was no mistaking it. “Sefie!” “Ah, Hydro you’re awake.” This deep, but warm, kindly voice had come from somewhere behind the captain and he turned his head to bring the ship’s doctor into his field of vision. A tall grey draconian with a short tail and large leathery ears, he glanced at Hydro with a calming manner that he had doubtless perfected on several hundred patients before. “Doc, why is Sefie here?” Hydro demanded, before adding, “And shouldn’t that be ‘captain’?” The smile crept to the corners of the physician’s mouth as he replied, “Actually until you’re cleared for active duty again by me you’ve been relieved of command, so no, it’s just Hydro. Don’t worry, Raphael has been doing a fine job of running the ship in your absence.” “Raph-? Oh, Mastermind.” The doctor nodded warmly, “As for Miss Sefie, I’ll have to ask you to keep your voice down; she’s getting some much needed rest after I removed the glass fragment.” As the doctor spoke, the figure on the bed began to stir. The doctor quickly moved past Hydro who was getting to his feet, and whispered some soothing words in her ear before encouraging her to be careful not to put any strain on her left shoulder, which the captain noticed now was heavily bandaged. Sefie looked as if she was about to try to sit up, then realised that the blanket was the only thing protecting her modesty and abandoned the effort. “What happened?” Hydro asked with a concerned tone. “I had a piece of the screen thought my shoulder when they brought me here.” Sefie answered quietly. “I’m told the wound wouldn’t have been nearly so bad if I hadn’t tried to pull it out myself.” She added with a grimace. “That was foolish,” Hydro responded, but softly so as to take some of the harshness out of the rebuke, “but brave.” “I know it was foolish,” Sefie answered with a pained look, “but I couldn’t move with it in there and I had to get to Wayfarer, he-.” Her eyes took on a panicked look as they sought out the doctor. “Where’s Wayfarer? Is he-?” Hydro, left somewhat in the dark about the matter being discussed glanced at the doctor in time to see his grey head move solemnly from side to side. In response to the captain’s questioning look he beckoned to Hydro to come over to one side with him where they could converse without Sefie overhearing. Hydro nodded to him before gripping Sefie’s uninjured shoulder affectionately and bidding her to try to get some rest and to get well soon. “Sefie was in hysterics when they first brought her in here.” The doctor confided once they were safely out of earshot. “I don’t think the sight of your unconscious body did much to help her mental state. She wasn’t particularly coherent but from what I’ve pieced together she was sitting at her terminal when half of the viewscreen sheared off and fell to the floor. She escaped with a small spear of glass piercing her shoulder and Mastermind was already moving to take your station after you collapsed so he wasn’t in its path but Wayfarer was standing right beneath the screen. I’m told he bowed his head slightly and let the screen shatter against his shoulders. It looked at first like he’d just shrugged the blow off harmlessly, he stayed standing at his station, but Siren noticed that his left arm was hardly moving. Both she and Sparkx were both qualified warp pilots so they moved over to him to take his station; the ship was now in warp space with a massive rend in her hull so the helm couldn’t be left unmanned or the Chimera would break apart. He waved them away and stayed at the helm until we dropped out of warp, then he turned away and said, calm as you like, ‘I think I’d better go to the infirmary now.’ took two steps and collapsed on the deck.” The doctor paused in his recollection and shook his head. “Bloody hero, that man.” He said regretfully, “Bloody stupid, thick-headed hero. By the time they got him here there was nothing I could do for him. Internal haemorrhaging. Part of his shoulder blade had gone through his lung and his heart had failed. It’s a wonder he managed to hold on for as long as he did.” Hydro stood in silence for a moment, his head bowed. “He died as he would have wanted to.” He said at last, “At the helm of a ship, saving lives. I doubt Siren or Sparkx would have had the skill to get us out of warp in one piece. I’ve never met a better pilot than Wayfa- no, than Rodrigo Santai.” There was a moment of silence as Hydro reflected on what he had known of his ship’s helm commander, then he nodded in affirmation and moved his mind on to the more pressing matters in hand. “I’d better get back to the bridge, see what our situation is.” The doctor laughed mirthlessly, “You’re not going anywhere, captain, until I-.” Too late. Hydro was already out the door. “Cell, I want whatever power you can steal from shields and engines given over to the matter forge. Once we’ve patched up some of that hole we can start diverting power back from the emergency force fields to other non-vital systems. Diviner, are you sure we weren’t followed?” “Positive, sir, but with sensors running on minimal power I don’t know how reliable my scans-” “You’ve got all I can give you, Diviner, any more from the fields and we start venting atmosphere again. Sparkx, how’s that coolant leak?” “Almost patched up now, cap’n.” “Stop calling me captain, the last one isn’t dead yet. “Sorry Mastermind.” The speaker lowered his voice slightly, moving to stand by Cell. “How long do you think we can hold atmospheric pressure at this rate?” he asked grimly. “A few hours before we have to start taking power from vital systems. We can afford to lose a little from life support, the ship’s still under its maximum crew capacity even with the extra fighter pilots, but after more than four hours we’re in trouble.” “Evacuate decks 12 through 18,” the acting captain instructed after a moment’s thought, “then seal off the bulk heads and power down emergency force fields on those decks and see what power you can save that way. Make sure you keep the forge running until they’ve made enough replacement hull plates to fix this mess up.” He reached for his earpiece, “Razor, are there any more security procedures you can bypass to get more output from the reactor?” “Negative captain.” The voice came back riddled with static, product of the lower power being given to internal communications, “We’re risking super-critical mass as it is.” “Ok, just hold the power output at its elevated level as stable as you can, we can’t afford to lose artificial gravity again.” Hydro had to admit, observing all this from the doorway to the bridge, that Mastermind did appear to be in his element. He’d seen it before, the tactical officer thrived on difficult situations, he seemed to be able to turn all the tension and uncertainty around him into an unending supply of enthusiasm and charisma that inspired an unwavering obedience and respect from all those under his command. His rhythm faltered however as he caught sight of the captain out of the corner of his eye as he turned to speak to Diviner. “Captain on the bridge.” He called, throwing a salute. “Don’t let me interrupt you,” Hydro called back, “the doc hasn’t cleared me for duty yet. What’s our status?” “Come and see for yourself.” Mastermind replied grimly, leading Hydro out the door and calling over his shoulder, “Siren, you have the bridge.” Mastermind led the captain through the labyrinthine corridors of the Chimera. Hydro noticed that they were using ladders instead of lifts and that all the doors had been locked open, all to save power, which showed just how bad the situation must be. Finally Mastermind stopped before a closed doorway. “The next corridor is serving as a makeshift airlock for the repair teams. We’ll need suits.” He led the way through another doorway to a side room that had once been one of the crew quarters but had now been given over to space suits and repair materials. Hydro noticed a staggering lack of hull plating among the supplies. Mastermind hauled himself into one of the space suits and Hydro clambered into another, hindered by his robes of rank, then they proceeded into the pressurised corridor. The door closed behind them and a blue force field sprang into life across the hatchway. The artificial gravity was the first thing to be disengaged, then the corridor was depressurised. Once there was no risk of them instantly being sucked out into the vacuum, the force field at the opposite end of the corridor vanished and Mastermind, moving now more slowly given the lack of flexibility in his suit, led the way once more, out into the depressurized section of the ship’s left wing. They turned a corner and abruptly the corridor stopped in front of them. The walls, the floor, the ceiling, all of it just ended as if cut off with the precision of a surgeon’s knife, to continue some distance ahead. While Mastermind stood back, Hydro stepped to the edge of the gap and glanced first up, then down, then side to side. Below him, four crewmen in space suits worked on patching up a colossal hole that had pierced the entirety of the command carrier’s wing from top to bottom. Only a small fissure remained beneath them but above, the rend was still open to the stars. No effort was being made to fix the corridors yet, but that was understandable given that the priority was to restore hull integrity. Mastermind tapped a button on the side of Hydro’s helmet, turning his radio on. “It’s about 20 meters wide from top to bottom.” He shared, “The Arcania did for us almost what that Hellfire did to our destroyers.” He paused for a moment to glance over the edge too. “I’ll be frank with you, captain. Work has been slow due to a lack of hull plating that we need to patch the hole at top and bottom so that we can re-pressurise this area of the ship. We’ve got enough power to run the forge on its lowest setting, which means it’ll take five hours to make the plates. Now we only have four hours of emergency force field power. Sparkx has taken a look at it but the only suggestion he could come up with was cannibalising the wingtip for plates, which would have taken longer than making them anyway. I won’t lie to you; we’re in it deep this time.” Hydro stood back and folded his arms as best he could in the restrictive suit, rocking back on his heels thoughtfully. Finally he shook his head. “Do what you can,” he said, “but don’t depressurise the corridors leading to the escape pods.” Grimly, the pair walked back into the airlock, went through the cycling process, and removed their space suits back in the storage room. Abruptly, a message came across the internal communicators. “Captain?” “Yes?” Both Hydro and Mastermind glanced at the other, each thinking that they had replied in error, but whoever was on the other end of the line continued regardless. “I think you should come up to the bridge and see this.” The pair burst onto the bridge in quick succession, racing towards the terminal that Siren was beckoning to them from. “These readings came in on the low power sensors a few seconds ago.” She explained, “It seems like a ship dropping out of warp. Hydro glanced across to Diviner. “One of ours?” he asked. “Can’t tell.” The sensors officer replied. For a while Hydro was silent, then he reached a decision. “Power down the forge.” He instructed. “Sir, is that-?” “Do it, Cell, then get communications and deep space sensors online.” Without waiting for any further debate, Hydro made his way to Sefie’s abandoned station and glanced at the console. It had been a long time since he’d operated a communications terminal but hopefully his memory would serve him adequately. He began entering frequencies and co-ordinates and before long a face appeared on the tiny screen before him. “This is fleet commander Hydro of the command carrier DUCS Chimera to unidentified vessel, do you read?” There was a burst of static which almost made the face invisible, then a reply was forthcoming across the audio channel. “Commander it’s good to hear your voice, when we found the ship drifting on minimal power we thought it had become a derelict.” “Any longer and it would have been.” Hydro replied mirthlessly, “Captain, our long range sensors are down, can you verify your identity?” “Certainly, this is captain Elika ‘Sylph’ Tanayi of the battle carrier Allecto, identification code: 2197L4I.” There was a collective sigh of relief around the bridge and when Hydro responded it was with a far more jovial tone. “Confirmed, captain. We will require you to move into close proximity and attach a power transfer cable; we are currently running our reactor at dangerous energy levels in order to power the emergency force fields around a rather large hull breach. We will also require some spare hull plating and a repair shuttle to install them.” “Understood commander, we’ll contact the rest of the fleet and let them know we found you. The Cerberus, one of the missile rays, two artillery cruisers and a small group of destroyers were able to escape the Sanguis system. Any other vessels aren’t reporting in but we believe that at least four more survived, the Manticore among them.” “Yes, I saw Fang leaving, but let’s not let that darken the moment for now. Hydro out.” Feeling truly relaxed for the first time since waking up in the infirmary, Hydro gazed around the bridge with a confident smile. His face fell, however, as his gaze settled upon the doctor standing at the door with a disapproving expression on his visage. “Doc, you discharged Sefie a day ago and she had her shoulder impaled. All I’ve got is a knock on the head, how long are you planning on keeping me here?” Hydro was painfully aware that he was sounding sickeningly like a petulant child, but having spent the whole duration of the Chimera’s repairs stuck in the infirmary was wearing his patience thin. He had even tried ordering the doctor to permit him to leave, but the doc brushed it off saying that he was in no position to be ordering anyone until he’d been cleared for duty once more. He had even gone to estimating the rough area of all the plastic surfaces in the room in an effort to ward off sheer boredom. “Sefie’s wounds were trivial in comparison to the blunt trauma you may have suffered from a blow like the one you took.” The doctor replied with a level tone that was at the same time patient, understanding, and utterly infuriating. “You are doing this to spite me.” Hydro growled, “You are a sad, pathetic, little man.” “And you’re a man suffering from concussion until I say otherwise.” The doctor answered in a cheerful tone that caused the captain to cringe with irritation. “You’re going to release me,” he stated, “or I’m going to redefine ‘blunt trauma’ for you.” His delivery was moderately calm, but there was no smile as he finished speaking. He wasn’t joking. The doctor paused a moment, waving his scanner around near Hydro’s head, then he put it away again. “Well it looks like the last of the bruising has gone down without any damage to your cerebellum, you’re free to go.” “Probably never even got inside my skull.” The draconian grumbled, getting to his feet and heading towards the door. Walking onto the bridge he was greeted once more with “Captain on deck!” and this time all the officers, not occupied by other tasks, paused to salute before turning back to their stations. “Good to see you back on your feet, captain.” “Thank you, Sefie.” Hydro turned his attention to Mastermind, “What’s our status?” “Repairs are as complete as they’ll ever be, that section of the ship is re-pressurised and we have enough energy to go into warp.” “Understood. Siren, lay in a course to the nearest subspace network node. Sparkx, you have the helm. In the event that we need to go to battle stations, Sefie, you are to take shields.” “Course plotted.” “Sparkx?” “Ready captain.” “Engage.” There was no glorious burst of blue as the Chimera jumped into warp this time, a consequence of the view screen still lying in fragments across the floor. As it was the only indications that Hydro saw that they were moving at warp speed was a small flashing light on his HUD and a faint rumbling that could be heard from within the bowels of the vessel. By and by, the hum died down and the light on the dashboard blinked out. “We’ve arrived.” Sparkx stated. “Commence a sensor sweep.” Without the ability to simply see the view from the front of the ship that was normally broadcast on the viewscreen Hydro realised he’d become heavily dependant on his crew to describe quickly what they were picking up on sensors. He was going to need to get that screen replaced at the first opportunity, perhaps a holographic one if possible, that way it couldn’t fall on someone sat in front of it. On the down side it would probably be the first thing to stop working the moment the power supply fluctuated or the ship took a hit. On second thoughts, better to stick with plasma glass. “We have the node on our scanners.” Diviner reported, “There are also eleven conglomerate ships in the area, two battle cruisers and nine frigates. Their command ship is interfacing with the node.” “We’re being hailed, captain.” “On scre- Uh, I’ll come over to your station, Sefie.” Upon reaching the screen at the communications terminal, leaning over his officer’s shoulder, he was greeted with the sight of a yellow draconian who was missing his right ear. He looked somewhat relieved to see Hydro’s face looking back at him from his viewscreen. “Commander, good to finally see a friendly face. We’re the battle group that was sent to assist you from Sanguis II. After we lost contact with your fleet we headed for our fleet’s rendezvous point but there was no-one else there, I don’t think any of them made it out of the system and warp travel back in has been destabilised by the shockwaves. When we realised that we were the only ones left we made our way to the node to upload our mission report. We’re almost done now sir, if you want to use the node you’ll only have to- Oh, my communications officer tells me we’re done. Our commanding officer is MIA so we’ll join your battle group until we get re-assigned if that’s all right?” Hydro nodded and closed the channel. “Interface with the node, command are going to want to hear this.” It took only a few moments to establish a successful data link with the subspace network but Hydro knew that in that time almost the entirety of his ship’s quantum memory had been transmitted thousands of light years across the galaxy back to the higher management divisions of the draconian fleet. Inside that brief data burst would be everything that they could possibly want to know, from the current status of the ship to officers’ reports to performance feedback diagnostics. Every little detail of the crew’s thoughts on the functioning of the ship right down to the user friendliness of their control interfaces would be sent back to the manufacturers and if enough people wanted the manual door control panels to be a few centimetres higher, the next model would have it. It was in this way that the Draconian Unified Conglomerate worked with the limited technology they had, compared to the elves, to make their ships competitive and effective in this war. It was often said that if you combined elven technology with draconian engineering, you’d have something unstoppable. As the transmission concluded, another face appeared on the viewscreen, this time a blue scaled visage with a pair of spectacles that Hydro knew must be purely for aesthetics as laser vision correction had been perfected centuries ago. “Ah, commander, we had expected your report over two days ago.” “We suffered some unexpected delays; it’s all contained within the reports.” “I’m sure it is, commander, your reports are always very thorough.” Hydro nodded respectfully at the compliment before replying, “I’m announcing the conclusion of the Sanguis campaign. I’d appreciate it if you could let Chairman Toth know that his decision to ignore my request for updating the power plants on our older destroyers cost more than 120 people their lives.” “I’ll forward the message to the board, along with the relevant sections of your fleet’s performance diagnostics; I can’t guarantee that the directors will reconsider however.” Hydro gave a mirthless laugh, “They seem to think the words ‘review’ and ‘reiteration’ are synonymous.” The draconian laughed back and reached for a button on his terminal, apparently about to close the channel, then blinked at something on his screen. His mouth opened as he said something, but Hydro heard no sound until the draconian pressed some more buttons. “Actually you may wish to deliver that message at once, the board has skim read your report and they’ve demanded your immediate recall to Draconis.” Hydro frowned, “We estimate that we’ve still got four renegade ships out here, the Manticore among them.” Now it was the co-ordinator’s turn to frown, “Our most up to date battle carrier? What happened, the captain had a distinguished record?” “Yes,” Hydro remarked dryly, “someone omitted to mention that when they said that Michael ‘Fang’ Edison had a knack for thinking for himself and adapting to situations that he did it while under other people’s command as well.” “I see. Well until the Chimera is ready to be fielded again Sylph will regain her rank of group commander and Blade will be promoted to the same. How the two of them distribute the remaining fleet between them is up to them to decide. It will be up to them to ensure that none of the missing ships fall into enemy hands, but the Manticore must be considered a priority target. The captain’s rank means that the ship carries not only our security codes for the Fortis Draconis but also out fleet command software. I trust I don’t need to explain to you what would happen if the elves got their over-artistic hands on that?” “No, sir.” “Dragon’s speed be with you, high command out.” Hydro turned away from the console and was half way back to his command terminal when Sefie called out to him. “Captain?” “Yes, Sefie?” “Is it true that they could take control of our ships if they had that software?” “I wouldn’t have thought so, but they could make so many false command signals that our own fleet command software would become unusable until we could develop a new encryption technique. It would make co-ordinating our vessels properly in battle far more difficult.” ‘She’s scared.’ Hydro realised suddenly, it appeared that Wayfarer’s death had shaken Sefie more than she would admit. Now he glanced around at the bridge he saw it in the others too, the way they all went about their business in a subdued manner, as if half asleep. He shook his head; this wouldn’t do, even if they were to have several days to regain their composure while the Chimera was made battle ready. “Hawk?” “Fleet command has been transferred to the Allecto and the Cerberus. The fleet is breaking formation into two groups and readying their warp drives.” “Understood.” Hydro allowed a silence to fall for a moment before speaking once more. “Ladies and gentlemen, we have lost an esteemed member of our team. Someone who we had come to trust and rely on. A man whose steady hand at the helm and calm, collected manner probably saved us all from disaster many times. It is only appropriate that his passing should leave a gap in our hearts. But so is the nature of war: people die who do not deserve to; people are taken from us before their time; familiar faces will never be seen again, and it’s not right. I can’t promise you that there won’t be another empty station on this vessel before this war is over. But I can promise you that as long as any one of you still draws breath I will never give up on you, I will keep fighting for all of you, just as we fight for each other. Rodrigo Santai died so that we could live; we have a duty to him to remember him, to mourn him, to honour him. But our duty is not to let the memory of his passing hang upon us like a suffocating cowl. It is in all our nature to recoil from pain, if you hold your hand in a flame for too long you want to pull it back. The pain of losing a friend can make us want to shirk all companionship, all our feelings of loyalty and camaraderie, to stop caring. But these are the very feelings that drive us to strive for what is right and make us fight all the harder. When I lead you into battle I don’t consider myself to be fighting for some fat bureaucrats in suits back on Draconis. I fight for the people on every world of the conglomerate, all those who would fall under oppressive elven rule if we fail. I fight because I believe that through us those people have a future to aspire to. I fight because I care. And it is because we care; because we hold those people and each other in our hearts; because we do not allow the memory of those lost to blot out our sunlight, that we are the best the fleet has to offer. It is because of this that we will triumph!” He had started his speech in low tones of mourning, and as he progressed to speak of duty and loyalty he had slowly begun to build his pace and volume until he concluded on a dynamic crescendo that was almost a roar. As a silence fell once again he looked around at each of his officers and found a fire in their eyes, the fire of inspiration and determination and felt a great surge of success run through his being. He gave a nod of affirmation and each of them turned back to their station, their former vigour restored. “Siren, plot a course for Draconis. Sparkx, you okay with the helm still?” “Yes sir.” “Mastermind, you have the bridge.” Draconian Unified Conglomerate Inner Sphere Capitol world Draconis Prime High orbit – command carrier Chimera A shadow of grey metal hung above the planet. It wasn’t easy for the casual observer to determine at first that this megalithic construction of spidersteel and titanium had once been a moon, it’s core hollowed out for crew quarters, ordinance and supply storage, and the great hanger bays, able to hold over five thousand bombers and twice as many fighters. The exterior of the former planetoid was divided into two sections. The moon’s rotation had been controlled such that one side of it always faced towards the planet and this side was given over to a mighty atmospheric field that held atmospheric pressure and artificial gravity across twenty flat landing platforms each large enough to bear a super-carrier. Glass windowed control rooms looked out across the landing array like the many faceted eyes of a giant mantis. The opposite face of the moon was an unending array of cannons and torpedo tubes, capable of shredding a battleship in seconds. It also housed the most advanced cluster of extended range ion cannons in the whole of the Draconian Unified Conglomerate, their range exceeding the orbit path of the most distant planet in the system. It was said that it could drop the shields of a titan battleship in under 20 seconds, and looking upon the mighty construction for only the third time in his life, Hydro was inclined to believe it, although he was sceptical if it could stand up to the Arcania. The natural satellite turned military base was the Fortis Draconis, the single most powerful battle station in the galaxy, and protective guardian of Draconis Prime, core world of the Draconian Unified Conglomerate. It was this asset that made the location from which every draconian fleet and world was controlled totally unassailable, or so it was believed. Hydro had seen it once when he first joined the fleet and after that this was only the second time he had been given cause to be in the system. Hydro was already waiting by Sefie’s console when an android’s metal visage popped up on the screen. “Unidentified vessel, halt. State your designation and explain your presence. Failure to comply will result in your immediate destruction.” “This is CEO and fleet commander Hydro of the command carrier Chimera, identification code:1337L0L, requesting permission to land.” The android’s face was removed from the screen as the channel was redirected to another source, which made Hydro frown, that hadn’t happened before. For a moment he wondered if he’d transmitted his code wrong, then smirked, it wasn’t as if you could forget a code like that. Moments later another face, that of the battle station’s commander, came into view. “We weren’t expecting you for another day, sir; I’m afraid the guest rooms aren’t yet ready to be made available to you.” Ah, of course, last time he’d had to hail the station was when he had returned for a meeting that would conclude with him as CEO of the whole battle fleet. Hydro now outranked the station commander which meant his communication required a response in person. “That won’t be a problem, I have business planet side that can’t wait, please have a shuttle waiting for myself and any of my officers who wish to go down to the planet.” “Ooh, can we?” Hydro gave Sefie a stern glance before the station commander could respond, he didn’t have a problem with the chain of command becoming slightly more relaxed on his vessel while they were in the contested territories but back here in the inner sphere it would reflect badly on his reputation. Fortunately the station captain had tactfully decided to turn a blind eye. “Of course, commander, you are cleared to proceed to docking pad 9.” The channel closed with a faint buzz. Hydro returned to his station and turned his attention to Sparkx. “Helm, a flight path has been forwarded to us, take us in. Go slowly through the atmospheric field, there’ll be a sudden increase in resistance as we pass it.” “Copy that, captain.” The Chimera fired up her engines once more and flew at a controlled pace towards the battle station, sweeping around behind it and setting down on one of the large metal platforms with a faint thud. “All hands are free to disembark.” Hydro called across the internal communication channel before walking off the bridge, most of his officers falling in behind him, save for Sparkx who wanted to observe the repair procedures and Hawk who wanted to debrief Fang’s fighter pilots. Razor joined them at the lift platform set into the underside of the hull that would take them down to the landing pad. It felt odd to be walking on a metal sheet that couldn’t more than thirty centimetres thick, not covered by anything and totally open to space, yet still be able to breathe and walk normally. Behind them, Draconis Prime hung, a grey orb punctuated by the occasional patch of blue, not oceans but the bowls of the massive condensers that supplied the city planet’s water supply, visible from space because of their size. The whole vista was framed by the gargantuan engines that allowed the Fortis Draconis to control its orbit path and velocity so that it could always be made to face an attacker. The shuttle was waiting by the side of the walkway just a small distance away, proclaiming in its monotonous robotic voice that passengers should ‘mind the gap please, mind the gap.’ Between them and it was the station commander flanked by two bodyguards. He rushed forward to shake Hydro’s hand, saying that it was an honour to finally meet him in person. The CEO extracted his hand not quickly enough to be rude but quick enough to make it clear that he didn’t much enjoy being fawned over. By way of a parting comment he said “My chief engineer will be able to brief your repair teams on what needs to be done.” and Razor took the hint quickly enough to step between the commander and his next comment and begin listing exactly how many people it would take to repair the Chimera, and what materials they would need. Hydro boarded the shuttle along with Sefie, Siren, Mastermind, Judge, Warmonger, Cell, Diviner and Illusion, the ship’s ground control officer who hadn’t had much to do in the past few days. Not many of them spoke except for Mastermind and Cell who were apparently expecting the Chimera to take long enough to repair for them to sleep off the effects of consuming a vast amount of alcohol while off duty. Hydro realised with some surprise that it was quite possible that very few of his crew actually had any common interests, and he was faced with the startling realisation that for all its atrocities, war could throw together a group of people who would have had no cause to become friends if they met in the street or a club, and could turn them into almost a second family for each other. There was some slight turbulence as the shuttle moved into the planet’s atmosphere, but nothing any of them weren’t used to. Hydro joined Sefie looking out of the window at the awe inspiring cityscape, sparkling beneath the golden sun overhead. Protected by the battle station in orbit, the war was yet to touch the cities of Draconis Prime; you could almost wonder if the people even knew. The news bulletins that were displayed on holoscreens at the spaceport as they disembarked dispelled this quaint image, proclaiming the most recent casualties in the border worlds and also commenting on the ever rising price of metals in the conglomerate as more and more material assets were seized by the government for the manufacture of ships. The war was hitting the economy hard if not the city’s infrastructure itself. The section of the spaceport that they had disembarked in had been cordoned off by planetary security forces but where the covered shopping centre that stood on the edge of the complex opened onto the city’s roadways Hydro could seem them struggling to hold back the cheering crowd that thronged there. It was quite a shock to the fleet commander to realise that he had come back home to find himself a war hero and he glanced briefly up at the newsreader on the holoscreen, wondering what images of him she and her colleagues had been painting in his absence. Nothing too outrageous he hoped. The group was stopped on their way out of the shipping centre by a group of armed guards. They waved the officers on and waited until they were out of earshot before speaking to Hydro alone. “The board will not be ready to speak with you for another hour, sir,” their sergeant explained with a salute, “we’ve been asked to serve as your security detail while you’re on the planet.” “I don’t need a security detail.” Hydro replied stiffly. “That may have been true last time you were here, sir, but times have changed and you’ve been getting a fair bit of press coverage lately. Most of the people like you well enough but those that don’t will be able to recognise your face quite easily.” Hydro nodded, “Very well.” The corridor’s floor was plastic stained to resemble marble but the illusion didn’t succeed to persuade the draconian that that was what it was. Marble wasn’t used in draconian architecture; it was too brittle and far too heavy which put an unnecessary strain on the other building materials. The walkway was edged with steel girders from which sprouted the metal supports for a handrail, this time masquerading itself as wood. It was against this that Hydro leaned, observing through the single piece of plasma glass that encircled the walkway, the hovercars that raced past above and below. This was one of his favourite places to come. The suspended walkway, linking a hotel on one side to a nightclub on the other, spanned one of the major roadways that linked the city to the head office. A towering building set on a ten story plinth it was unique in that it was set at exactly 45 degrees to the rest of the city-planet’s grid like structure. The building was itself unremarkable, a towering block with evenly spaced windows on each floor and the conglomerate’s insignia emblazoned upon a hanging banner. It was not the structure that was awe inspiring, but what it represented. It was reminiscent of a time immemorial when over a hundred of the galaxy’s leading tycoons decided to put down their price wars and their rivalry to agree to re-stabilise the chaotic galactic market in ores, consumables and textiles for the good of the people. It was on that day that the Draconian Unified Conglomerate had been formed and it was that spirit of co-operation that remained the underlying principle of the company that had become steadily more politically minded. The irony was not lost on Hydro: the political faction that you would most expect to be oriented towards the betterment of its leaders at the expense of the public: a corporate government; was in fact the more philanthropic than the elven Imperium. It wasn’t just the view that drew the draconian to this place however. It had been a place where he had come to think whenever he needed to. It was also a place that was inexorably linked to his past. He had made agreements here and he had made enemies and once, just once, his life had been turned upside down. He remembered though that it had never been quite as quiet as it was now. There had always been people coming and going across this bridge, but now there were two armed guards at one entrance and three at the other, telling anyone who approached that the area was off limits. As he heard this same explanation being given for the fifth time Hydro decided it was a bit unfair of him to effectively block a public walkway and made his way towards one of the doors to let the guards know he planned to move to somewhere more out of the way. Abruptly he paused, his hand inches from the door. Whoever was on the other side was arguing the point. “No, you’re not listening to me, I’m one of his officers and I want to speak to the captain.” “Be that as it may, miss, I can’t- Hey, where do you-?” Abruptly the door burst open and a blur of green scales and rainbow wings almost knocked him down. “Sorry.” Sefie stepped back, blushing in embarrassment. “Sir, step back.” Hydro looked over Sefie’s shoulder to see his security sergeant aiming at the back of her head, and realised in alarm that the only reason that he hadn’t already taken the shot was that the bullet would also have gone through Hydro’s chest. Careful to move slowly to show that he did not feel threatened and also being sure that he didn’t provide the sergeant with a clear shot, Hydro raised his hand and shook his head. “I know this woman, sergeant, you can put your weapon away.” a wry smile to lighten the atmosphere, “Unless that is you’ve been instructed to kill any of my crew who try to speak to me?” The sergeant gave an uncomfortable nod and returned his gun to its holster before stepping back outside. Without a word, Hydro returned to his place at the handrail, hands clasped, leaning forward with his forearms against the rail. After a moment Sefie joined him. “Something on your mind, captain?” Hydro grimaced, “I’m not a captain while I’m off duty.” He corrected lightly. “You’re always a captain, even when you’re off duty.” Sefie contradicted firmly, gazing at the head office building as Hydro had done a few moments before, “That’s your problem.” Hydro allowed the statement to go uncontested and consequently a brief moment of silence ensued. He couldn’t really blame his security detail for not recognising her, Sefie did look very different in a brown fur lined coat with jeans and a T-shirt than she did in her fleet uniform. “I noticed you gave your identification code with only your callsign.” Sefie observed, leaning a bit further over the rail so that she could observe Hydro’s face even though he was looking away from her, then gave up and moved to his other side. “Why was that?” “Who I was before doesn’t matter.” Hydro answered, “I’m fleet now. It’s the only name that has meaning for me.” There was another moment of silence, Sefie clearly didn’t know what to make of what she’d just been told, then she laughed, a beautiful, melodic sound. “You can’t mean that. The fleet can’t be everything to you. What do you do in your spare time?” “I don’t,” Hydro began indignantly then softened his tone as he continued, “have a lot of free time.” If Sefie realised that she had struck a nerve then she persisted regardless. “You’ve got free time now.” She said, nudging him playfully. “So go on, ask me if I want to catch a movie later.” Hydro sighed and turned to face her. “I don’t think I do.” He answered seriously, “I’m expected at the head office in a few minutes and I’ve got a feeling that they’ve got another mission for me.” “Or you want them to have one.” Sefie cut across indignantly. “You’re the one who said that being close to each other is what makes us strong, how about you start acting like you believe it?” Hydro shook his head. “Sefie, listen to me. I don’t know why I’ve been assigned a security detail, but something’s not right here.” “The only thing that’s not right is that you won’t let yourself stop seeing enemies in every shadow. It’s what happens when you’re in space for too long.” The silence this time was charged, confrontational, and neither of them found out who would’ve backed down first for at that moment the sergeant entered again. “Sorry to interrupt sir, but the board are ready for you now. I’m afraid we’ll have to ask your lady friend to wait outside.” “She’s not my-” “I’m not his-” A pause, a traded sideways glance, a look away. Without exchanging any more words, Hydro walked out the door. For a moment he made his way down through the hotel complex without comment, then as they emerged at street level where another shuttle was waiting for them, Hydro turned to his security sergeant. “You were about to shoot Sefie when she came through that door.” He stated, “How about you tell me just how bad the situation is?” Edited by Hydro14, 26 May 2009, 12:29.
	My loyalty is a double edged blade: I will stand by you while what you do is right and just, but I will never support you when doing so would force me to betray what I believe.


Hydro14	24 May 2009, 13:34 Post #15
Fanatical Roleplayer Posts: 133 Group: Mentor Member #8 Joined: Dec 25, 2008	It was with a troubled look that Hydro stood before the door to the board room in the head office. He had interrogated the sergeant for most of the journey to the building and some time afterwards waiting in the foyer. He had revealed that there had been several threats made against Hydro’s life prior to his arrival in the system, and that the board’s auditors had uncovered several attempts to interfere with his mission reports and service record in such a way that would endanger his position as battle fleet CEO. Someone was gunning for him, someone with a considerable amount of influence in the conglomerate. Rather than risk losing their best field commander, the board had given him a personal security team. In addition to the ones that he had been told of, there had been a trio of snipers shadowing their steps. The sergeant assured Hydro that the snipers definitely had recognised Sefie or she never would have got into the room alive. The frustrating realisation that faced Hydro was that while it was quite possible that the person who was trying to get rid of him was quite possibly waiting for him on the other side of the door, but there would also be twelve people who respected him and wanted him to continue winning battles for the conglomerate, and he had absolutely no way of knowing who was who. To have got so close to him the traitor would have to have deceived men who were far better judges of character than Hydro. Pausing but a moment to straighten out his robes, he knocked on the door. “Enter.” Hydro reached for the metal door knob, an archaic appliance but one that had much symbolism. To enter the boardroom a man had to humble himself by opening the door with his hand instead of making machines do it for him. Or at least, that was what people said; Hydro thought they had just never got around to installing a touch panel. The boardroom was exactly as he remembered it from the last time he had been inside, that time for a promotion that would make him the single most influential person in the battle fleet. This time however, he wasn’t sure what to expect. ‘I haven’t been given a copy of the agenda.’ he reflected dryly. Six draconians sat either side of a long mahogany table; this one Hydro believed was actually varnished mahogany and not some plastic imitation. A thirteenth sat at the end of the table, marked out by the silver goatee that sprung, smartly combed, from the end of his lower jaw, and by the plain black robes of rank while the others all wore grey, cut in the same style irrespective of gender. “CEO,” Hydro acknowledged with a respectful curt nod that was returned in kind, “Directors.” There was now bowing or kneeling in the conglomerate, here there was no ruler and ruled, there were merely colleagues. “Commander.” Each of them returned, it took a while given that there were thirteen of them. Hydro noticed that there was no seat for him, but he had not complaints about that, he felt far more comfortable standing knowing that there was a good chance at least one person in the room wanted to put a bullet through his head. It also suggested that the directors didn’t intend for this meeting to take long. Once greetings had been exchanged, the CEO waved a remote control and the lights darkened slightly as a holoprojector on the table the size of an ash try sparkled into life. The blue image that appeared was that of a ship, and one painfully familiar to Hydro. “What exactly are we looking at here? Is it a new ship design our engineers have proposed?” one of the directors asked. “Perhaps Hydro can tell us a bit about it?” The CEO asked. Hydro nodded firmly. “This is the Arcania.” He stated, “It’s a vessel the size of Fortis Draconis.” There were a few cries of ‘impossible’ and ‘preposterous’ that the CEO had to quieten before Hydro could continue. “It appeared in the last battle in the Sanguis system where it put an end to the campaign by, with a single shot in each case, annihilating every planet in the system.” The shock that his words were received with gave Hydro cause to wonder how many of the directors had actually taken the time to read his report before the meeting. The knowing look he received from the CEO however told him that they had purposefully been kept in the dark about this so that the realisation would add to the effect. “The energy required to do this,” the CEO began, “our R&D departments have estimated to be in the region of 278 terra-joules, sorry Hydro, Diviner made an overestimate there, that’s equal to the output of a red super-giant and then some. By comparison, our Fortis Draconis has a shield strength of 300 terra-joules. That means that this vessel is capable of rendering our planet defenceless in two shots. The Arcania must be considered the single greatest threat to the people since this war started.” The CEO paused a moment to turn off the holoprojector and the lights resumed their previous level. “That is why I am sending Ambassador Edison to the Geneva system to negotiate a temporary ceasefire with the Elven Imperium.” These words, though delivered calmly caused the boardroom to break out into unrestrained chaos. Until the CEO raised his voice over it all, only Hydro seemed to notice how much of a strain it took on the part of the aged draconian to make himself heard. “The Arcania struck as much of a blow against the elves as it did us, if not more. We both needed the ore deposits in Sanguis but the elves had got to them first, hence the half built orbital platforms that commander Hydro had to overcome in his attack. Despite the commander’s best efforts at Sanguis IV it is likely that Sanguis II would have fallen before the day was done and the elves would now be mass producing the experimental ships Hydro encountered. The Arcania is a random element in this war that neither of us can afford to allow to persist unchallenged. As we have already identified it will take more firepower than we alone can muster to bring this vessel down. Only a joint effort between two galactic super-powers will be enough.” This speech appeared to have quietened the dissenters so the CEO turned his gaze once more upon Hydro. “Commander, this mission cannot be allowed to fail. You will be in charge of escorting Ambassador Edison to the Geneva system safely and bringing him back. We can’t leave anything to chance, Hydro, and you’re the best military commander we have. It is my greatest regret that there are those within our organisation who can’t accept that without a great amount of jealousy, so watch your back.” Hydro nodded curtly, “Yes sir. Will that be all?” The CEO stood up, all the directors doing the same, and nodded. “Our meeting is concluded.” Stepping outside, Hydro was brought face to face with the man he would be escorting. “Commander Hydro, a pleasure. I hope for my sake that you’re as good at your job as the newsreaders would have us believe.” It was an innocent enough comment, but it was all Hydro could do to acknowledge it with a weak grin and shake the draconian’s hand. The Ambassador led the way out of the building to where their shuttle was waiting to take them to his ship in orbit, Edison pausing to hold the door politely for Hydro, who was still feeling increasingly sick by the moment. This was Ambassador Edison, Ambassador Michael Edison, the same name as his son. This was Fang’s father! Still, at least he seemed to be dealing with the situation in a collected and mature manner, perhaps they were both of a shared opinion on his son’s desertion. As the battleship Gryphon left warp in the Geneva system, the atmosphere on the bridge changed in an instant. “Men, I am relieving Hydro of command.” Edison stated bluntly, “You are to ignore his instructions unless confirmed by me.” He shot a venomous glance at the fleet commander as he spoke. “Understood sir.” Hydro grimaced, and then spoke his piece. “Gentlemen, you are aware that this is a military vessel and that under such circumstances the ambassador does not have the authority to remove me from command. I suggest you reconsider where your loyalties lie.” His words were met with nothing but silence, a grim sign if ever there was one and the ambassador’s smirk suggested he had already covered for this possibility. “Well, I have to hand it to you, Edison,” he said in a resigned tone, “you know how to get the loyalty of a ship’s crew.” “Money talks, Hydro.” The ambassador answered coldly, “Or in this case buys silence.” He raised his voice to the rest of his crew as a member of his security team relieved Hydro of his blaster, “Sensors, what is the status of the enemy vessels?” “We’re only reading one ship, sir, it’s orbiting Geneva Prime, shall I match orbit course and velocity ready to dispatch your shuttle?” “Negative, lay in an intercept course.” He lowered his voice and hissed at Hydro, “When the board finds out about how you destroyed the elven delegation unprovoked, you’ll lose your command and my son gets his career back.” Hydro twitched slightly, observing the scanner officer’s screen and in the mean time activating a tiny recording device clipped to his belt. If Edison thought the board were going to buy his bullshit when faced with evidence to the contrary he was in for a shock. “Belay that.” he ordered, and when the navigations officer made no response hissed at Edison, “Listen to me or you’re going to get us all killed. We can’t beat that ship.” The ambassador laughed, “What’s the matter? The great commander lost his teeth? We’ve got four ships to his one, how can we not win?” “That isn’t just one ship,” Hydro replied bluntly, “that’s the Hellfire. It’ll shred your three destroyers with a single shot and it’s a darn sight faster than we are. We’ll be in pieces before we can make warp.” Edison glared at Hydro, his eyes drilling into him, trying to see if the commander was bluffing. Finally he spoke. “Helm, adjust course, take us into a mirror orbit.” Hydro breathed a sigh of relief, wondering what other stupid ideas the ambassador might yet try to pull. “Hail the elven ship.” Edison called. “No response, but they’re sending surface co-ordinates. It’s a large plateau on the northern landmass.” The ambassador grinned. “Better get yourself ready, my friend; you’re going down to the surface. The terms you will offer are that we will give the elves peace and in exchange they will cede control of their conquered territories in the Geflar system as well as withdrawing their ships from all the contested ground. Oh and I’m not giving you clearance to compromise and you don’t come back without a result.” Hydro raised an eyebrow. “That’s an insult, they’ll never- Ah.” The ambassador nodded knowingly. Hydro snarled. “My death won’t help your son at all.” He snapped, “Two other ship captains saw him turn tail in a fight as did all my officers.” “The captains in question are currently being taken care of by my son, and when the board finds out that all your crew were in on a plan to assassinate me, which is why I had to kill you, their names will be mud.” Hydro just shook his head in disbelief. “You’re mad.” He realised, “Those captains have already submitted their reports and implicating my crew in a criminal activity will get you no-where.” “I wouldn’t be so sure of that given your background.” Edison responded bluntly, and for once Hydro had no response. “Good luck.” Moments later, three draconian bombers left the Gryphon’s hanger bays, heading for the co-ordinates that the elves had given them. Hydro, sat in the pilot’s seat of the lead craft, seething with irritation but most of it directed at himself for walking into so obvious a trap so easily. He wondered briefly what the odds were of getting out of this alive, then concluded that they probably didn’t bear thinking about. His hand brushed thoughtfully against the last of the gadgets on his belt, a personal shield generator. He’d have traded it for his blaster in a heartbeat, but it would have to do. Edited by Hydro14, 24 May 2009, 14:06.
	My loyalty is a double edged blade: I will stand by you while what you do is right and just, but I will never support you when doing so would force me to betray what I believe.


Lord Synical	25 May 2009, 10:57 Post #16
Site Douchebag -//- Official Badass Posts: 162 Group: Admins Member #6 Joined: Dec 25, 2008	“Exiting slipspace in five... four... three...-“ “Thank you, helm.” “-two... one...” The Hellfire emerged within Geneva Prime’s gravity well in a burst of brilliant white light, its plasmatic discharge illuminating the space behind it in vibrant blue flames as the engines – formerly raging with their overdrive setting for slipspace – shifted instead to a smaller, more appropriate rumble as the flagship careened with an appearance of lazy bliss into a position of low orbit above the small planet, it speed slowing gradually to properly align with the world’s gravitational revolution; the helmsman reached forward to engage the auto-pilot with a sigh of relief before falling back against his chair in a comedic flop, warranting a laugh from the communications officer as the man glanced at him. Seeing this Katrina released her own singsong laughter, causing the tactical officer to look up from his terminal and to where the helmsman was attempting to calm the now hysterical communications officer down, grinning nonetheless and causing the tactics operator to burst out in a boisterous guffaw, all of them suddenly overcome by everything that had happened to them recently. To Lucien, the only one not laughing, it was obvious that if they weren’t laughing they would be crying – they were trained and disciplined soldiers, but they had seen an entire solar system being methodically wiped out – and he had no intention of making that their outlet. His gaze shifted behind him to where the two bridge guards were standing beside the blast doors, hands on the hilts of the longsword sheathes belted onto their left hips. The Prince knew the power of those blades all too well, made of tempered steel and Illarian crystal; they could cut clean through a draconian or elf wearing anything less than a personal forcefield. Upon catching him looking at them, the formerly chuckling elfish soldiers snapped to attention, backs straightening and their chins snapping up proudly. Smiling at something unspoken, Lucien motioned for them to continue as they had been and they relaxed gratefully, giving bows to the prince which he acknowledge with a respectful tilt of the head, moving his focus back to his now calmer crew. Allowing them time to regather themselves, as some were still chuckling quietly, his focus instead turned to the small blue planet on the viewscreen. Geneva Prime was an oceanic planet, covered in water with only a single, small landmass roughly four thousand kilometres in width and six thousand in length, the ideal location for peace talks due to its isolated and unremarkable nature. There were no trees, the land was flat and someone with binoculars could see to the very sand of the beaches all around with the right setting. This among other things reassured Lucien that there was a definite possibility for compromise – he was confident that the Draconian representative would be sufficiently uptight enough to be steamrolled by his presence. They wouldn’t expect the Crown-Prince himself, no, they’d think he was merely there to reinforce the actual ambassador’s authority. Thusly reassured he rose from his chair and motioned for his crew to be at ease, for they had snapped to attention immediately. When he began to turn, however, a flash of blue stopped him and he glanced silently to the communications officer, whom was already button-tapping furiously in a reflexive effort, bringing up a holographic projection on the plasma-glass viewing screen at the front of the bridge, clear as day. It depicted three destroyers and a carrier in low orbit, sending Lucien’s lips into a smirk. “They’re hailing us, sir,” reported the communications officer, “Shall I open the line?” The prince shook his head, already leaving, “Send them the landing coordinates and nothing else. If they hail you again, just resend the coordinates.” Pausing momentarily, he turned back and added in a more serious tone, “If this goes south, you take the bridge tactics. Destroy the Draconians vessels and keep a spot ready for my dropship. Once I’m on board and the enemy are destroyed, enter slipstream back to Illaria immediately, I’ll return to take command before the jump, hopefully – if I die, however, I want you to head back to Illaria regardless. This vessel is the single most important thing here. Am I clear?” There was hesitation, before a resounding chorus of “yes sir” filled the bridge, Lucien giving a meaningful look to Katrina before turning and striding out through the blast doors, nodding in response to the salutes of the two guards. Moving through the Hellfire’s corridors, into the turbolift and down to the central hangar bay, Lucien reflected that in all likelihood it would be the draconians who would be losing someone today. His escort, though nobody but the prince knew it, were all handpicked by him from the ranks of the Crown Guard. All of them carried Illarian Longswords, the latest in ballistic assault rifle technology and rechargeable personal energy shields, though the damage absorption was lessened to allow for the lightning fast mid-battle recharge. Hailing the captain of his escort group, which were dressed in the normal black and red power armour of the Hellfire’s on board infantry garrisons, the only sign they were anything other than normal troopers was the way they stood; each of them poised like wolves awaiting attack, savage and beautiful in their strength. They only saluted when Lucien followed the Guard Captain up the already closing loading ramp into the dropship’s interior. Mentally, the prince reminded himself that these were usually used to transport soldiers and armour to the surface in one go, a reaction to his surprise at the amount of space within the craft. The Captain of his escort was lithe and of medium size, but he exuded an aura of command that Lucien had to respect, watching him prepare for even the most obscure eventualities. He had by now learned some of the callsigns belonging to the members of his ten-man guardian squad. Their leader was Riptide, their sergeant a tough-as-nails woman addressed as Angel. The rest were Blaze, Maverick, Goose, Avalanche, Jester, Viper, Mobius and Garuda. Settling between Goose and Jester, he was almost immediately two-finger saluted and nodded at, eliciting a laugh from the Prince, something exceedingly rare; he enjoyed the attitude that Goose displayed. The entire grouped turned their heads to face him, the red-tinted visors obscuring their faces, though he could tell they were surprised. In response, Lucien merely shrugged and said, with a faint smile; “He lives up to his name,” Which managed to acquire some laughs and even a daring clap on the shoulder which Lucien returned immediately to assuage the fears of reprimand Jester probably felt, as well as to show he didn’t consider himself above any of them. More than anything, he despised being treated like a robot, in the sense that he was somehow incapable of a good laugh because of his lineage – it was the one thing, if he could, he would change. “We’ve reached the drop point, sir.” Almost immediately, the mood became tense and the guards more focused, cocking their rifles audibly as they rose from their seats. Riptide ordering Angel, Garuda and Mobius to do a quick sweep of the Landing Zone as they prepared to disembark, Lucien’s hands clasped calmly behind him and his manner every bit the in control commander. He was utterly convinced of his safety in the hands of these men and their precautions only furthered that security, though he wouldn’t let it make him overly confident with the Ambassador – politics and bloodshed were two completely different wars, both of which he was well-learned in. When the three returned declaring that the area was clear, Lucien and his eight escorts – Riptide beside him – marched down the loading ramp to the flat, sunlit grassy ground in the centre of the small island. A light breeze rustled his white hair and the prince smiled; it felt like it was going to be a good day for diplomacy.
	Take the Magic: The Gathering 'What Color Are You?' Quiz.


Hydro14	25 May 2009, 14:42 Post #17
Fanatical Roleplayer Posts: 133 Group: Mentor Member #8 Joined: Dec 25, 2008	The flight computer was bringing up yellow gateways on Hydro’s monitor leading him down towards the planet. A draconian bomber was a two man craft, but there was no rear gunner on the commander’s craft, apparently Edison had thought that he might try to incapacitate his co-pilot and take his firearm, and on reflection Hydro thought it likely that he probably would have done. The other two craft were formed up on his wings. He knew it was but a mockery of an escort, they were no doubt under orders to shoot him down if he deviated from the course. Better make sure not to miss any of the yellow gates then. The bomber was a sluggish craft, unresponsive and slow to turn. Had he been in his own warp fighter he might have considered dog-fighting with the escort craft, even though the formation meant they started behind him, but as it was he doubted he’d even last long enough to loop around them. There was a brief moment of blindness as he passed through the cloud layer, a point where the flight computer was absolutely necessary unless you wanted to go in too fast and smash into the ocean’s surface, and then he levelled out. As far as the eye could see in all directions there was nothing but sunlit oceans. Deciding to get some amusement out of his predicament Hydro opened a channel to his wingmen. “Hey, do you mind if we stop to get some postcards? The view’s great and I know some people who’ll be a bit annoyed if I don’t bring them back something.” For a moment there was silence across the radio, then a single shot ricocheted against his hull. “Hey, okay, okay, I was just asking.” Looked like his escort were all a bit jumpy, perhaps they weren’t entirely comfortable with what the ambassador had asked them to do? For that matter what were their orders? Get Hydro to the meeting and then see to it he didn’t come back? It seemed a bit lacking in subtlety for a man who’d tried to interfere with his service record. A flat landmass that was really no more than a giant glorified sandbar was very difficult to distinguish from the ocean and were it not for the flight computer telling him to angle his craft downwards and deploy landing gear Hydro might not have realised that he was nearing his destination at all. Catching sight of the elven drop ship on his scanners Hydro realised that his flight computer was going to take him straight over the negotiation site before bringing him around to land. That wasn’t good. He opened a channel once more. “Guys, I don’t know about you but if I was an ambassador I’d be a bit uncomfortable if my enemy was about to fly a bomber over me. Perhaps even uncomfortable enough to shoot down said bomber. I think we should set down manually before we end up with a few more holes in our hulls than we might like.” Again a moment of silence, but this time his inquiry wasn’t met with blaster fire. Finally a gruff voice answered. “Very well, land where you will.” Hydro landed about fifty meters from the negotiation ground and tapped a button on his dashboard that slid open the plasma glass cockpit cover. As he jumped from the nose of the bomber to the ground, he saw the four guards leave their ships too, each of them armed with a concussive battle rifle and little else. He raised an eyebrow slightly at the green clip loaded into the rifle as one of the escort infantrymen passed close to him, green for armour piercing. This whole negotiation was starting to take rather a dark turn, Hydro reflected as one of the guards nudged his arm with the muzzle of his rifle, the meaning was clear: start walking. The draconian took the time it took to walk the short distance to the negotiation site to consider exactly how he was going to phrase Ambassador Edison’s demands in such a way that wouldn’t result in his head being instantly blown off. It looked rather like an impossible task. ‘Hi, we’ll give you that truce you were wanting, but in exchange we want you to give us back the four worlds you took and we want all the neutral ground too. You don’t mind do you? We’ll still be leaving 20% of the galaxy for you.’ Hmm, perhaps not. It still defied comprehension that the ambassador could be so stupid that he would but his already dead son’s career before the good of the conglomerate. Did he not see that if the elves won the war then Fang would probably be executed on trumped up war crimes anyway, and, not to appear arrogant or anything, without Hydro the elves were probably going to win. Approaching the elven delegation, Hydro counted eleven, ten of whom were clad in thick heavy power armour. He was immediately glad that his escort did have armour piercing rounds, even if they were hideously outnumbered and probably outclassed as well. If the situation deteriorated he realised his best chance was probably to get back to the spacecraft, on foot he was at a disadvantage but in the air he was confident his bomber could outshoot their drop ship. Then again, the odds of actually getting back to the ships were slim. Oh well, perhaps it wouldn’t come to that if he managed to intimidate the elven delegate into accepting the hideously one sided terms. It was at this point that Hydro actually stopped to look at the man he would be talking with, and his eyes almost popped out of his head. “Lucien?” He inquired incredulously. Now this made a difference. Lucien was a man of honour, the kind of person Hydro could rely on not to violate a diplomatic ceasefire no matter what the other party was demanding. They were enemies, there was no denying that, but theirs was a kind of enmity that was clean, an enmity between gentlemen who abided by the same code and were of the same calibre. They had both met in battle on their respective first assignments as infantrymen, both fighting as much against their fellows for distinction as they were against the enemy for ground. Hydro knew deep down that if the DUC were to win this war, he would at some point have to kill Lucien, and it was a day that he both looked forward to and dreaded. It was the age old question: when your have a nemesis who you both hate and admire, and your whole life revolves around conquering this nemesis, what do you do when they’re dead? He did know for a fact that he would feel cheated though if that day came because Lucien had been betrayed by someone in his inner circle and essentially been delivered to his mercy. Hopefully the elf felt the same way. Now, how to let him know what was going on without instantly prompting the guards to open fire? Hydro searched his mind for an elven code word that the draconian intelligence network had found out over a decade ago, the elves probably didn’t use it any more but hopefully Lucien would still remember it. The amicable smile didn’t leave his face as he said “Amrethyr.” He offered his hand to shake as he spoke, as if it was an elvish greeting, but in fact it was known to mean ‘traitors in our midst.’ Or at least that’s certainly what Hydro hoped it meant. If not he was in trouble. Edited by Hydro14, 10 Jul 2009, 10:14.
	My loyalty is a double edged blade: I will stand by you while what you do is right and just, but I will never support you when doing so would force me to betray what I believe.


Lord Synical	26 May 2009, 13:07 Post #18
Site Douchebag -//- Official Badass Posts: 162 Group: Admins Member #6 Joined: Dec 25, 2008	Upon spotting the advancing bomber the guards around Lucien immediately snapped up their rifles, but the prince threw an arm out and commanded them to wait, smiling in relief as he saw the bulky draconian craft land upon the short grass of the island. Upon seeing who the ambassador was to be, he broke free of the ranks of his guard, striding forth despite their alarm to firmly clasp the red Draconian’s hand, smiling in a genuinely pleased manner, even after the long-forgotten codeword had been uttered. Like all elven soldiers, Lucien knew the significance of the word even a decade since its last use, his eyes remaining fixed on Hydro as if pleased by his greeting, giving a show for the mysterious traitors. As he raised his left arm, palm open to gesture for them to walk and talk, he flashed silent elfish hand signals to riptide; ‘This one is not to be harmed. Be ready.’ To which the Crown Guard Captain gave the slightest of nods, pretending to relax as if it had been a stand down order even as the soldiers prepared for a possible fire fight. Pausing about thirty meters from each respective guard unit and able to talk without the fear of being overheard, though the Draconians certainly seemed tense as they watched, he opened the conversation, “I have looked forwards to a face to face meeting for some time, my friend, the only regret being we are not discussing an end to the war as opposed to a ceasefire, no matter how long it may be. If all goes well, perhaps peace will evolve from a lack of dispute, yes?” He smiled as he spoke, no doubt in his words as to his wishes. Lucien very much did want peace, even more than he wanted to reign victorious. Standing there, studying the Draconian in anticipation of his response; the elven fleet commander once again reflected on how admirable of a man the other was. Dependable, sincere and at the very worst half-truthful, he never once lied to the prince in their engagements – nor was he too blinded by bloodthirst to see the greater picture. After all they were both warmasters, both champions in their field – a relationship of mutual respect, of fraternity between two men who were the only ones of their kind. Lucien knew, beyond any doubt, that if they had met outside of a warfare scenario he and the Draconian would have been the closest of friends. The Draconian however grimaced at his words, leading Lucien to wonder exactly what was going through the reptile’s mind. “I fear we are not even discussing a ceasefire.” He answered solemnly, “I have not been authorised to compromise and the demands I am contractually obligated to put to you seem even to my eyes to be more an unconditional surrender on the part of the Imperium than a mutually agreeable peace.” Abruptly the draconian gripped his arm firmly, causing his guardsmen to twitch, but thankfully they remembered their orders and their weapons remained by their sides. “We are both deceived.” Hydro hissed, drawing him close, “Even now on the DUCS Gryphon orbiting this planet stands the ambassador who was dispatched by the directors’ board and was meant to be down here negotiating with you. He will be most irate if I return from this discussion, which he considered to be an execution, alive.” The draconian nodded slowly and released Lucien’s arm, drawing a regretful breath before speaking once more. “Ambassador Edison demands, in exchange for a non-aggression pact until the Arcania is destroyed, the surrender of the Geflar system and the contested ground. All of it.” Hydro shrugged helplessly, “It’s a joke, he never expects you to accept but the man has become blinded by his own affairs and those of his family to the extent that he’s lost sight of the bigger picture.” At this Lucien’s brow creased in confusion, almost as if he were presented with a dilemma he was struggling to solve. After a moment he was forced to look at Hydro with a smile, eyes glancing at the Draconian guards standing not fifty meters away, holding their rifles in such a way as to raise them in a second. Looking to his nemesis, his brother, Lucien dipped his brow and sighed softly as he spoke, a carefully created illusion of diplomatic negotiation. “What can we do here, Commander? We both know we can only pretend so long and I would not have our first meeting end so swiftly. We are kin, you and I, brothers born into the wrong age. We should have been on the same side, we would have been unstoppable. Alas... Tell me, what do you need done to escape your prison? What can I do to guarantee your safe return home, to face me on the field once more? Tell me and I shall deliver it.” The draconian laughed and clapped him on the shoulder, “You’re an honest fool Lucien.” He said with a wry grin that suggested it was meant as a compliment, “If I die here, the war is probably won for you. Sometimes I think it would be better if that were the case, no victory can be worth the numbers who’re dying for this.” He paused for a moment, looking downcast, “I do have a favour to ask, but not concerning my present situation. We both know what happens when a war ends. History is invariably written by the victors, inscribing their names upon the pages of the past as the defenders of justice and freedom while the losers become the force of oppression and villainy. This is because the general public, those who have lost their fortunes and their loved ones for a victory that seems less sweet by the minute, need someone to blame. The military commanders of the losing side will be strung up on a collection of war crimes that they probably never committed and if they did were all under the orders of others, and shot. Now I don’t want any of my crew to die for my decisions, but expecting all of them to escape unharmed is asking far too much of fate. There are, however, two that I really think deserve better.” The draconian gave a defeated sigh, which seemed oddly out of character for him, “Sefie you already know, the other is Sparkx, my shield commander. If the conglomerate loses this war I would ask you to ensure that if they survive the battle, they are untouched by whatever retribution follows. I will of course do the same for anyone you name.” Lucien considered the words of his friend for some time, weighing them and rolling them over in his head, his slightest nod enough to confirm his acceptance of the request and offer, lowering his voice to a murmur as he spoke, “My navigations officer Katrina... I care for her dearly, Hydro – if anything were to happen to her, I fear I would no longer survive this life. She is my other half, watch over her... if you should come to destroy my vessel, I will be aboard but you must promise you will deliver her safely to Illaria. Promise me.” His words were earnest, imploring, asking much indeed of his draconian rival. But in his heart the prince knew that he was not asking uselessly to a heartless fiend, he knew the Draconian would fulfil his wishes just as Lucien would fulfil his. They were brothers, friends, enemies, a two-man fraternity baptised in war. They were twins at the opposite ends of the game field and only one of them could emerge on top. At least this way they would take some joy in knowing they had experienced friendship before one of them was lost to the eternal abyss. The draconian bit his lip awkwardly. “It could be a bit difficult to get a DUC ship to planet Illaria, but I’m sure I’ll come up with something. Now, moving on to the matter in hand,-” Crack!
	Take the Magic: The Gathering 'What Color Are You?' Quiz.


Hydro14	26 May 2009, 14:03 Post #19
Fanatical Roleplayer Posts: 133 Group: Mentor Member #8 Joined: Dec 25, 2008	At first Hydro was unsure what had happened, until the elf before him collapsed, clutching his shoulder, a steady stream of blood seeping between his fingers. At once, the draconian reached for his personal shield generator, which sparkled into life at once, shimmering as the next shot which was flying towards Lucien’s head struck it instead of its target. Turning to see his assailants and so more effectively block their line of fire, the draconian saw that the four who were meant to be his guards had deployed small force field generators as makeshift cover. Lucien’s honour guard had dropped one before his shield could be set up, but the rest were now focusing their fire on him in an attempt to drop his shield. In an instant the draconian commander’s confusion cleared. He had a plan. “You asked me what I needed.” He hissed to Lucien, “I need the three destroyers disabling so that I can get my bomber in close to the Gryphon. I must also ask that you leave Edison to me, I’ve got a theory about why this is happening, but I need to get his body back to Draconis for some checks.” The elven honour guard were closing in, their own shields protecting them from the traitors’ shots. It seemed they didn’t trust the draconian to protect their leader, and who could blame them? Hydro decided to make himself scarce before they decided that they had better bring him in for questioning, and so made a sprint for the deployable force fields set up by the traitors. Leaping over the portable cover, his shield sparkling dangerously the whole time as it came under fire, Hydro raked his claws across the face of one of the traitor draconians before snatching the rifle from his hands, kicking him down and emptying the remainder of the clip into him. An elven plasma rifle struck the draconian’s shoulder, draining the last of the power from the shield and leaving him crouched behind the force field but otherwise defenceless. Realising that the traitors still had a clear line of fire to him, Hydro quickly reloaded and finished them off before they could turn their guns upon him once more. That just left Lucien’s honour guard and twenty meters of open ground between him and his spacecraft, which would probably take a good thirty seconds to prepare for lift off. Even by the standards of situations he’d been in the past, those odds weren’t good. Let’s think; flash grenades? No, he didn’t have any and besides, the elves were wearing visors. The cover force field was now sparkling angrily too, he needed an idea and quickly, one that didn’t rely on a piece of equipment he didn’t have. Just as he was deciding that his only option was to make a dash for the bombers and hope he got lucky, the sound of weapons fire stopped. Looking through the force field Hydro saw Lucien back on his feet, giving orders to his honour guard. One of them paused to argue the point, but a quick few words from Lucien sent him back towards the drop ship with the other nine. “Honourable to a fault.” Hydro smiled appreciatively, before standing and walking at a calm pace towards his vessel. The first thing Hydro did was to disconnect his ship from fleet command on the Gryphon, the flight computer promptly told him that he did not have the authority to do this, but when he tapped in his ID code the machine promptly changed its decision. He’d lost the use of his flight computer to plot a course back to the Gryphon, but at least they wouldn’t know he was coming until it was too late. The question was how long it would take Lucien to get back to the Hellfire and disable the destroyers. Their anti-fighter defences presented him with a problem. The Gryphon herself was an old design with a known blind spot in her flak turrets that would allow him to approach and blast open the hangars, but if the destroyers were covering that spot then he’d never get close without being separated into rather more pieces than could be considered healthy. Timing would be critical for this. He had to make his approach while Edison’s attention was fixed on the Hellfire that was ripping apart his escort fleet, but before he realised that Lucien was deliberately holding fire on the carrier to allow Hydro to board. The draconian counted to thirty after hearing the engines of the elven drop ship overhead, then fired up his engines.
	My loyalty is a double edged blade: I will stand by you while what you do is right and just, but I will never support you when doing so would force me to betray what I believe.


Lord Synical	27 May 2009, 01:07 Post #20
Site Douchebag -//- Official Badass Posts: 162 Group: Admins Member #6 Joined: Dec 25, 2008	Within the elfish dropship, making its way back to the Hellfire at full speed, Lucien made not a sound as Angel took a scalpel and sliced into his shoulder, using a small supermagnet to suck the metallic shrapnel from his shoulder, the motion eliciting only a frown of discomfort from the Crown-Prince. He had served on all fields of battle, including front line infantry and he knew the risks involved in such an endeavour. He had suffered gunshot and sword wounds before, energy blade burns as well; he was no stranger to such pains, it only made him stronger and more resilient. In the eyes of his bodyguards, he was more than just a royal, he was a man who understood them – it made treating the prince less of a duty and more of a pleasure, Goose, Jester, Avalanche and Blaze cursing and arguing about who killed the first traitor Draconian despite the seriousness of their situation. To Lucien it was a disaster, a travesty; the diplomatic negotiations had failed and now the war would restart with roaring momentum. There was no way he could possibly cover this up, he could not stop an entire warship from talking – especially not one the size of the Hellfire. Refusing to allow dejection to consume him, he focused instead on fulfilling his friend’s request and allowing him a means with which to escape the system back to Draconis Prime and clear his name as well as uncover the source behind the Draconian deception. The prince knew as well as Hydro did that something unnatural would have had to happen for the Ambassador to act so strangely and that there was another force at work behind all of it. Pausing, he considered the possibility that the Arcania belonged to a third rogue faction, then quickly dispelled the thought: The technology the monolithic planet killer possessed was beyond the capabilities of both galactic superpowers and without their funding and shipyards no rogue faction could create something that size. Smiling politely and murmuring his thanks to Angel as she finished bandaging his shoulder and placing his arm in a sling, Lucien shrugged his uniform on over his shoulders; seeing as it was only one layer, it meant that beneath his unbuttoned attire his entire front was bare from the waist upwards. It wasn’t as if he was badly built, with three neat pairs of abdominal muscles, well-shaped pectorals and broad shoulders to compliment his toned arms the prince was an exemplar of physical health. However, there was something mildly wrong with the Commander of the entire Imperial Battlefleet and future ruler of the whole empire walking around his vessel with his chest uncovered. He knew however that attempting to slide his arm through his jacket sleeves was impossible due to the brutal nature of the wound and its treatment. Thusly resigned to his fate, he stood as the loading ramp for the Dropship descended to the deck of the Hellfire’s forwards starboard hangar bay, striding down swiftly ahead of his guard and glancing at them sharply as they attempted to follow, making it clear he was no child, softening the look with a wink of appreciation before making his way towards one of the nearby turbolifts, a pair of mechanics glancing at him and then doing a double take, mouths hanging open at the white sling holding his left arm securely. Giving them a shrug and nod, he entered the lift even as they regained their senses and saluted, the transport surging up through the decks towards the top, the bridge. Stepping out of the lift before it was fully open and striding towards the blast doors, Lucien was intercepted by a doctor who sternly demanded the prince go with him immediately, to which the commander lifted the insistent man off the ground with his good hand and threw him aside in a way that showed he was in no mood for uppity middle aged elves attempting to tell him he wasn’t in his right state of mind. Marching onwards from then, he passed under the fluorescent lights and waved his good hand impatiently over the blue panel, the blast doors to the bridge opening in a pneumatic hiss and allowing him inside. The second he stepped onto the bridge, the call of ‘Captain on deck!’ resounded loudly from one of the sentinels at the blast doors, he and his comrade snapping to attention alongside the rest of the crew, who stared at him in shock – Katrina actually running over and beginning to feel his face, checking if he were alright. The way she touched him was more revealing than even a kiss and Lucien knew there was no point pretending. He murmured soothing words to her and touched her cheek, something the others tactfully glanced away at. Detaching himself from the worrying woman he moved down the small quad of metal stairs to his chair, standing before it upon the circular catwalk that ran the length of the bridge, with stairs leading to each terminal, his eyes looking pointedly at the Draconian group in orbit over the planet. “Battlstations. Helm, prepare for minimum range battle manoeuvres. Weapons; I want those three destroyers eliminated last century, hold nothing back. Tactics, prepared a battleplan to reduce our damage taken, though it may just be a matter of us having the bigger guns, I want those bastards regretting the day they inspired the fury of the Hellfire. Do not fire on the Carrier vessel, Hydro needs that to get out the system – we were betrayed by a faction within the Conglomerate, Hydro as well and I want him to return home alive to rectify the situation. Launch a fighter wing to escort his bomber safely and strafe those AA guns with our ion cannons. Everything depends on the Draconian Captain reaching that vessel, so make sure no harm befalls him.” Turning to his stunned crew the prince met their gazes, for the first time, with a chilling look of his own, “You have your orders.” He swept from the bridge without another word.
	Take the Magic: The Gathering 'What Color Are You?' Quiz.


Hydro14	27 May 2009, 10:35 Post #21
Fanatical Roleplayer Posts: 133 Group: Mentor Member #8 Joined: Dec 25, 2008	When Hydro left the upper atmosphere of Geneva Prime once more the battle was already in full swing. The destroyers were still out of range of the Hellfire’s main guns but they were trading hits with extended range torpedoes and even under these conditions the destroyers were plainly coming off worse. They had been drawn forward from the carrier and were no longer covering the Gryphon’s flanks, which was a relief. Using image magnification software, the draconian identified from a distance the starboard hangar bay doors. There were two hangar bays on each side and Hydro knew that the foremost ones would grant him easiest access to the bridge, but they were also the ones that were properly covered by flak cannons, and in a craft that flew with all the elegance and precision of vaguely aerodynamic brick dodging flak wasn’t really an option. He was just about to make his first approach when he spotted a group of elven heavy fighters heading towards him, that seemed a bit heavy handed really, four fighters for one bomber; it wasn’t exactly as if he could outmanoeuvre them or anything. The incredulity that the draconian felt only increased when the elven craft formed up on his wingtips without firing. Finding that he was being hailed, Hydro opened a channel. “What is our target, wing commander?” There was something that appeared just downright unnatural about being asked that question by an elf, or so Hydro thought as he made his reply. “The starboard rear hangar bay doors. Aim for the left hand door near the edge of the bay so that a nice big chunk of it breaks away as the compartment depressurizes. Now we have to do this as I’m making my approach because the moment the hangar begins venting atmosphere, an emergency force field will be activated to restore pressure, which will destroy my craft on impact. I’ll probably only have about two and a half seconds between breaching the doors and the field being raised, so timing is essential.” There was no confirmation or acknowledgement from the elf, he simply closed the channel and the four heavy fighters broke formation heading for the target Hydro had described. The Gryphon was turning away from the battle, lavender plumes of energy being left in the wake of her engine clusters; it seemed Edison was planning to make his escape while he could. ‘It’s a good thing,’ Hydro reflected, ‘that he’s not launching fighters or this would be really difficult.’ The draconian’s vision was blurred for a moment by a bright flash as the first destroyer came into range of the Hellfire’s guns and immediately broke apart in a hail of plasma. A bit of debris flying towards him forced Hydro to break off his attack, but the elven fighters swarmed towards the target, pounding a hail of cluster missiles into the hangar doors. They didn’t buckle. The Gryphon’s nose was now pointing away from the gravity well of the Geneva sun, which meant that if his helm commander had half a brain he was getting ready to enter warp. There was only time for one more run before the ship was beyond reach. Hydro lined up for the approach, the elves once more on his wings, and this time nothing hindered the effort. Before impact, he released a pair of plasma charges towards the hangar doors and then pulled up sharply to loop around and follow them in. There was no time for another attempt, so Hydro threw caution to the wind and followed the bombs as close as he dared, there would be no time to pull up, if this didn’t work then he was about to become a rather metallic splat on the hull of the carrier. Fortunately, just before he hit the hull, it was wreathed in a plume of plasma and a storm of swarm missiles and he found himself not flying into re-enforced titanium plating but into the hangar bay. A few weapon crates scattered around smashed into his wings as they flew out the hole, then the force field energised and the hangar pressurized once more. Hydro wasted no time scrambling out of his bomber and levelling his rifle at the door. The rumbled that shook throughout the floor suggested that the Gryphon had entered warp, there would be no chance to thank Lucien for his help then. Hydro was tempted to just lie low until the ship returned to Draconis Prime and then find a way to deliver his report, but that just wasn’t his style. Moving to stand beside the door, which still hadn’t opened, he listened intently for the sound of footsteps in the corridor beyond, but there were none. The draconian opened the door and began making his way towards the bridge, using crates left in the walkways as cover and, just once, ducking into a room off to the side when a group of soldiers jogged past, heading towards the hangar. Just as he was thinking it had all been too easy, he came under fire from a trio of guards positioned outside the blast door to the bridge. At the same moment, the six who had gone past came at him from behind. Diving behind a supply crate, Hydro considered the strategies they were using. Two pronged assault: good. Attack from exact opposite directions in such a manner that any shots that miss the target will hit your allies attacking from the other side: very bad. Four of them were very dead before he had to fire a shot. So that he would only have to deal with being attacked from one direction, Hydro quickly finished off the last one attacking him from the door to the bridge, then turned his attention to the four attacking from the corridor, who were now taking cover behind the spidersteel pillars that supported the corridor. Driven back beneath his cover, Hydro considered the crate he was hidden behind. How much friction would it create against a smooth metal floor? Experimentally he gave it a shove towards his enemies. Hearing a loud curse as someone was pinned against the wall by it, Hydro gave a quick burst of fire in the direction of the sound, and the foul language ceased. So that left three. Taking the time he had gained himself to retreat to the relatively more complete cover of a storage room, Hydro killed another with a pinpoint headshot, before taking a shot to his arm in retaliation. Now it was Hydro’s turn to spit a litany of curses as he struggled to reload one handed. No good. The first marine to come around the corner was dropped by a kick to the ankles and then shot in the back by his colleague, rather spiteful, or so Hydro thought, but perhaps it was an accident, he wasn’t going to stop to ask as he dropped the second with a punch to the head. Lifting one of the enemy’s rifles, still with half a clip loaded, Hydro stood before the door to the bridge and tapped in his code to override the lockdown. The bridge doors burst open. Edison spun around, raising Hydro’s stolen blaster. He fired. He missed. Hydro didn’t. Calmly taking his blaster back from the corpse, Hydro calmly seated himself in the captain’s chair. The crew, now uncertain what to do with their employer dead, watched him in fearful silence. “Don’t take your eyes off our course, helm,” Hydro instructed coolly, “I haven’t survived all this so I could die as a result of your bad flying.”
	My loyalty is a double edged blade: I will stand by you while what you do is right and just, but I will never support you when doing so would force me to betray what I believe.


Lord Synical	5 Jun 2009, 14:41 Post #22
Site Douchebag -//- Official Badass Posts: 162 Group: Admins Member #6 Joined: Dec 25, 2008	Lucien sat perched on the edge of the cold steel of an operating table, his right arm out of its sling and being treated by a very calm, very precise military doctor – one of many stationed aboard the elfish flagship. Pointedly keeping his glance averted from the man’s work and instead scanning the walls, his keen scarlet gaze picked out the pinprick of nanites darting along its surface with microscopic plasma beams used for the elimination of tiny bacteria. It was another of the many applications of elven ingenuity; the technological advantage possessed by the immortal children their greatest asset in the war. Hissing out a breath between his too-perfect teeth as the doctor sealed the wound with a small red energy needle, Lucien turned to look at his arm. All that remained of the wound was a pale white line that would stay with him for the rest of his life, but aside from that, the arm was fine – repaired by the same nanites that so determinedly hunted the infirmary for any and all bacteria. Rolling his left shoulder experimentally to test the pain, he was pleased to find that it was as if he had never been shot, the prince’s frame of mind improving considerably at this revelation. Slipping off the edge of the metal bed and glancing at the doctor, Lucien reached for his long coat – intercepted by the middle aged elf’s stern voice; “Now, Commander, I hope you don’t plan on doing any heavy lifting any time soon,” he began, much to his prince’s disdain, “That wound is healed, but too much strain could dislocate your arm.” In response to this statement of blatant fact, the Commander stood up and lifted the doctor off the ground – gently – with one hand whilst raising a slender brow inquisitively; “Do this count as heavy lifting?” To this the doctor could only reply with a meek smile and silent prayer that the crown-prince didn’t decide to throw him into anything heavy. Luckily for the elf it appeared that Lucien was in a generous mood, for the medical officer’s feet soon found the floor and allowed him to scurry away with a mutter about important tasks that urgently required his attention. Lucien barely repressed a snort. The infirmary doors opened with a pneumatic hiss as the fleet commander strode out, white buttons done up to his chin upon the coat that marked him as the captain, the red stripes of rank on his shoulders leaping out at even the slightest of glances due to its sharp contrast to the otherwise white uniform. Striding towards the blast doors to the bridge in a steady and determined manner, the Crown-Prince of the Elven Imperium entered his command with all the dignity and command his bloodline possessed, which was enough to suppress the surprise at seeing someone else occupying his seat. Lips twitching at the corners, he noted mentally that the guards were new – new and seemingly pre-instructed as they turned sharply and fell in on his flanks, definitely not there to ensure his safety. The call of ‘Captain on deck’ began from the communications officer, but was cut off by a sharp look from the black-haired male in Lucien’s chair. Rising with ease, the usurper turned to smile at the prince in such a way that it almost appeared snake-like. Immediate dislike rose in the fleet commander, recognizing the young elf as High Lord Le’Medre’s son; Zexias. Smiling politely in return, though it was clear it was naught but formality, Lucien moved to a position where the entire bridge crew could see him, now north-east of the captain’s chair with the guards still on his heels. “Zexias,” he began, his tone light, “to what do I owe the honour?” In reply, the other man stepped forth and actually snapped his fingers for the prince to lower his head and look at him on an equal level – an action which sent a white hot surge of fury down Lucien’s spine. Maintaining his composure despite this, he simply smiled quietly at Zexias who, realizing somewhat who he was with, spoke in a brisk manner; “The council has dispatched me here to relieve you of your command and bring you in for questioning, Commander, pertaining to your assistance of an enemy commander – the enemy commander no less – in his escape from the Geneva disaster.” At the flash of surprise on Lucien’s face, he smiled with sickening joy, “Oh yes Lucy, we know about Geneva.” To this the prince had only one question, quietly spoken; “Does my father know of this, Zexias?” This time, it was the other man’s turn to flicker with surprise before he collected himself, “The Emperor trusts the council – he does not have to be informed of simple matters of military discipline.” Taking his chance with this and turning to the communications officer, Lucien gave a firm order; “Open a channel directly to the Emperor. Use my identification code to do so.” Almost immediately the man complied – the channel opened even as Zexias tried vainly to overrule the order to no avail – and Emperor William Senus, Lord of the Imperium, appeared upon the screen with his council nervously standing behind them, eyes wide as they saw Lucien standing there calmly. Without wasting a second, the prince spoke, bowing to his father; “Emperor. I come before you now to bring to your attention the most curious news – it appears that your council authorized my removal from command and summary interrogation on suspect of treason.” For the Crown-Prince, there was a silent and vindictive joy welling inside him as he watched his father’s face move from incredulity to fury; “I will have it known now that you, my son, are above and beyond contestation – for your authority comes from the very blood in your veins. Let any who wish to argue your power look into your eyes and see for themselves the royalty written in your line. As for Zexias Le’Medre, he is sentenced to--” The transmission suddenly cut off, the Emperor’s eyes wide even as the screen went silent. Turning sharply to face the communications officer and opening his mouth, Lucien’s unuttered query was already answered; “I don’t know what happened, sir, it was terminated on his Highness’ end, I can’t seem to get a connection back.” That was odd to the Fleet Commander; as Illaria’s communications network was nigh on perfect. “Very well, keep trying; it may just be a system glitch.” Turning to Zexias with a cold expression, Lucien canted his head curiously, “What am I going to do with--” at that precise moment, the prince ducked down in time to dodge the swing of an Illarian longsword, his ears having heard the blade leaving its scabbard. Already he was responding, spinning to slam his right fist into the man’s throat and crush his windpipe, Lucien pivoting on his left foot to strike at the man to the other’s right with his left elbow, snapping his fist up against the traitor’s nose as he bent double, an on-the-spot jump-spin-kick snapping the man’s neck in a sickening crunch. Picking up the dropped Illarian longsword and looking at Zexias, Lucien raised an eyebrow inquisitively, jabbing the other in the chest with the tip of the blade; “You’re going to tell me everything.” Turning to his helmsman he ordered them to set an immediate course for Illaria at full slipspeed, eyes catching a hold of Katrina – his soulmate oddly silent and sad as she smiled tentatively back at him. Resolving to sort it out later, the Crown-Prince turned back to Zexias and pressed his sword a touch more strongly against the young man’s chest, “Start talking.” The wormhole opened and the Hellfire vanished within it. The beauty of slipspace was lost on the bridge crew of the Hellfire, every elf transfixed with apprehensive curiosity as they stared to where Lucien was standing, listening as Zexias began his explanation; “It is quite simple, you see, for it has been a long time coming,” He glanced past the prince at the bridge crew as he said this, swallowing as they looked back blankly, the traitor redirecting his gaze to his liege-lord as he continued; “My father had grown weary of taking the Emperor’s orders day in and day out without reprieve, tired of the ever-present reminder of his own lack of true power within the Imperium. He knew as all did that at a word, the Emperor could turn him from a High Lord to a peasant – he knew it and he hated it, just as I hate you for your privilege.” At this Lucien snorted in disgust, the tip of the longsword he had taken from the traitor guards resting upon the metal of the platform the captain’s chair was situated on, his gloved fingers drumming the leather-wrapped hilt; “Go on Zexias, tell us more.” Sweating and swallowing visibly, the man complied, albeit with a look of hatred. “Among the masses and military, my father knew there were those who shared his sentiment, those who felt the inescapable power of the Imperium’s unopposed lord and master. He formulated his plan with that knowledge, sought out those that would help him and rid the Imperium of those that would not. His supporters, our supporters, grew in number – we knew the time to strike was coming close. But first we needed to make sure that on the day of the Emperor’s removal, you wouldn’t be around to snatch the throne—” Katrina interrupted him here with a screech, “Snatch?! It is his birthright!” Zexias shot her a venomous look and snarled, “By whose authority? His eyes might be pretty, but who cares?! Why should House Senus hold all the power? It isn’t fair!” The slap was as sudden as it was loud. Zexias fell backwards into the captain’s chair, staring up with shock and fear at the terrible visage Lucien had become – the prince’s tone as sharp and cold as ice shards, “Continue.” His command was heeded immediately by the terrified noble, “—so we formulated a plan to be rid of you as well, a ruse in the shape of taking you in for questioning for a reason you yourself would hand us, at which point we would say you committed suicide out of desperation to escape your shame. It was the perfect plan and when we planted a bug in the bridge to listen in on all your conversations and orders... well, you handed us our excuse via your command to aid the draconian,” he wrinkled his nose as if against a bad smell at the word; evidently a very racist noble, “acting thence we came here to enact the final leg of the plan. However, we didn’t factor in the potential loyalty of your crew – a very misguided one if they seriously want to follow you after you helped the enemy’s national hero.” He looked around to see if that had made an effect and was met by openly disgusted faces, every member of Lucien’s crew filled with the same revulsion as their commander; the commander who was now gripping his longsword tightly – a feeling of dread rising like a bad taste in his mouth, “And what, exactly, is going to happen now that your plan failed? Your father must know you’ll be put to death.” This time it was Zexias who looked confident, going so far as to sneer at the crown-prince victoriously, “My father will enact the plan regardless. Even now the throne room will have been secured by a company of the Crown Guard loyal to my father and the council – the emperor is doomed—” His eyes went wide as the blade pierced his heart. Katrina’s heels clicked audibly upon the metal of the bridge as she ran forward and up one of the stairs, slipping her hands over Lucien’s and gently prying his fingers off of the hilt of the longsword, smiling softly up at him as she tugged him away from Zexias’ ruined form with a lover’s tenderness. The entire front portion of the prince’s uniform had been stained crimson; his face too was splattered from the eruption of blood that came from his blade piercing the traitor’s heart. Quaking along the entire length of his being and finally turning to face Katrina, his gaze tortured and hopeless, the prince came to his senses – an enraged sob choked out of him and he buried his face in her fiery hair, shuddering as he unleashed his pent up rage and frustration into her sun-kissed locks, his crew looking on with shocked expressions; Lucien had never fallen apart like this. With her fingers moving through his hair and her left hand soothingly rubbing his back, Katrina felt her love for the man in her arms more profoundly than ever, like an ember in her chest that had exploded into a blaze – the warmth filled every inch of her body and gave her the strength to soothe, to not fear what awaited them when they emerged from slipspace in high orbit over their homeworld, nor what would happen when her beloved eventually did descend to storm his own home and put an end to a rebellion before it began. Lucien drew a ragged breath as he detached himself from Katrina, her strength renewing his own as he smiled down at the woman and leaned down, his lips connecting with the warmth of her own, a sensation of heart surging through his body and to his loins – though he ignored it with disciplined discretion. Detaching himself from his soulmate after the kiss and turning to face his bridge crew, his face was flushed from his display of affection but otherwise determined, eyes scanning the assembled as he finally spoke, quietly as was his nature; “You have all heard of the coup enacted against our Emperor, of the rebellion about to erupt within the Imperium. Now you must tell me, each and every one of you, are you with me?” Almost immediately the members of his crew began nodding, some of them even slamming fists into palms in anticipation of decimating the traitors. “Very well then,” he said with a smile, “to your stations.” Turning as per his own words and striding to his chair, Lucien took in his grasp the arms of the dead Zexias Le’Medre and pulled him from the seat bodily, throwing his corpse to the ground beside it as he turned, sinking into the chair and facing the nexus energy that roared silently around the outside of his vessel. “Helm, how long until we exit slipspace and arrive at Illaria?” “ETA is Three minutes.” “Thank you, Helm. Communications; order the on board garrison to prepare for insertion.” “Is that wise, sir?” “No, but we have no other choice than to follow through; I myself will join them in the pods and lead the storming of the palace. Establish communications with as many loyal crown guard soldiers as you can—” “But sir, how would we identify them from the traitors?” At this Lucien smiled, folding his left leg over his right and resting his elbows on his arm rests, bridging his fingers; “They’ll be the ones answering our hails.” Laughing slightly at the half-joke, the communications officer prepared to execute his orders – the helmsman giving the alert that they were about to exist slipspace. Lucien composed himself with a wry smile, “So it begins.” The Hellfire appeared above the Illarian defence fleet in a sudden eruption of white nexus energy, a discharge caused via the slipspace emergence and the ensuing subspace rupture, the only drawback of slipstream; it announced an arrival for all to see. The sudden arrival of the Hellfire seemed to throw the vessels orbiting the homeworld into a type of shock as several of them lurched away from the colossal flagship’s proximity. The hails came in immediately from the fleet and orbital command, all of which Lucien ordered to be ignored. The shields on the Hellfire were powered to their utmost by this point and the attempt to make contact with it and its captain became more urgent, much to his own satisfaction and amusement. The prince rose from his seat in one fluid motion seemingly at random, not even glancing at the screen as he ordered his tactical officer to take command and hold position in low orbit over the planet. He was out the blast doors and in the lift seconds later. The first stop for Lucien was the armoury, located in the lower portion of the vessel, near to the Helljumper descent pods. Upon entering the bright chamber, he returned the salutes of the clamouring soldiers within, nodding to Angel as she stood next-to-naked nearby, along with dozens of other female and male troopers who were beginning to dress in the black and red stylized power armour of the Hellfire’s on board garrison. The prince himself swiftly undid the buttons on his white uniform and pulled off his coat as he walked, striding to the end of the large six hundred meter long arms room to a pair of reinforced blast doors with the word RESTRICTED emblazoned upon it in large block letters. He waved his hand over the blue holo-panel and the door hissed open. Lucien moved immediately to where a bejewelled suit of Illarian plate armour lay in waiting upon a metallic version of him in a standing arms-out legs-apart position. He reached out and picked up a clinging shirt of finely woven elfish silk, pulling it on over his head like a second skin, the long sleeves stopping just short of his hands. His boots and pants came off, replaced instead by an identical pair of silky white trousers and thick socks. Next was the silvered chainmail, each wrung lovingly crafted by the first father of the Senus line; the first Emperor of the Elves. The entire armour was a symbol of House Senus’ power, said to be bound to the blood of its sons since the armour’s creation. Lucien himself knew that to wear the armour, a ritual that left the instigator writhing in agony was demanded – a proof of determination and strength to bear the responsibility that the armour brought with it. When he had pulled on the chainmail the crown-prince moved on to the plate, though its applications were different to most armour. He spread his legs and raised his arms out to the sides. A machine overhead whirred to life and the various pieces of the armour were hefted from where they lay on the metal mannequin and attached instead to the body of the prince, leaving only the helm for his discretion as he lowered his arms, the diamonds inlaid to the silvered plates of armour shining with an otherworldly light. His helm came on last, three tiers of metal with two jagged horizontal slits for his eyes. Pieces of cloth and leather were secured over the exposed mail joints, giving the illusion of seamless protection as he turned away from the now naked mannequin, his volcanic gaze instead fixed upon the wall above and behind where his armour had been positioned, to a gleaming Illarian longsword and a ruby-encrusted shield, its precious gems arranged in the shape of a jagged, tribal phoenix design upon the front of the bulwark. He moved, always reverently, around the metal ‘Lucien’ and reached up to grasp the sword and its sheath, pulling them from the wall and dropping his eyes to the seemingly rough sword in his hand. Upon its hilt in golden Illarian cursive was the word ‘Silthrim’, a name that could be roughly translated in draconian to ‘The Eternal Fire’. Its blade illuminated as Lucien’s fingers curled more securely around the hilt, an inner light that had no explainable origins. By many, it was regarded simply as magic. The Senus Family made little effort to dispel the belief. Though he did indeed find himself capable of watching the perfection of the blade in his hand for time unending, Lucien sheathed it smoothly; aware that time was of the essence. He removed the shield from the wall and took a moment to read the golden inscription along its edges naming it as ‘The Phoenix Aegis’ before he strapped it to his back and turned, forsaking a cloak or cape as any sane warrior would. The things merely became a nuisance during battle. Thusly armoured and prepared for what was to come, he walked at a measured but swift pace from the room, ignoring the open stares of shock, disbelief and in many cases reverence he received from the few hundred soldiers assembled. The armour he was wearing had not been donned for war in over five hundred years, since before he was born. His pace took him out of the armoury and down the adjacent hallway, turning right into a large area in the midsection of the Hellfire that spanned almost a kilometre of the ship’s interior, with hundreds of doors on either side, each leading to a single insertion pod. Each soldier was assigned one, to maintain and clean in preparation for an operation that required lightning fast seizure of planet side locations. A drop this deep in Elfish territory had never been made. The Draconians, though persistent, had never managed to penetrate the Imperium’s inner rim – nor had they been able to find a way around the massive hyperspace inhibitors that created a nigh on perfect ring around the inner rim systems. Any vessel that tried often found facing them the full fury of the vessels assigned to maintain the region of space. Lucien’s hellboat, as they were often referred to, waited near the middle of left hand side gallery, his name imprinted upon the door in large red letters. He entered without hesitation, regarding to small, one-man interior of the black construct in an educated manner. Finding no hull breaks or power flaws to note, he turned and removed his shield from his back, sliding his right arm through the two straps upon its back and placing his armoured feet firmly within the waiting clamps upon the floor of the pod, feeling them magnetize and secure him to the floor of the hellboat. Next he raised his left arm and gripped one of the hand-holds on the ceiling firmly, no magnetization, simply his own strength to keep him secured. A communiqué within his earpiece gave him pause, Lucien responding using the microscopic microphone attached to his rear right bottom tooth, “Affirmative. Begin insertion and hold position until given further orders. Flameweaver out.” The pistons locking his pod hissed and retracted back into the ship, the door to the entrance slammed shut and pressurized with a thud as the hellboat was moved backwards until it was beneath a thrust ignition, before the circular doors beneath it parted like the jaws of a beast and the pod was forcibly blasted from its bay, fired in the middle of a sequence starting at the far end and ending at the other. Each pod was fired two seconds after its predecessor, so as to stop possibilities of crashing into one another and messing up the trajectory during approach. As it was now, Lucien was positioned to land on the great stairway that lead to the front doors of the palace, with his cohorts landing in front of and behind him. It would be a simple matter to enter the palace, but to seize control would be difficult. The entire citadel had automated defence systems and to turn them off, he would need to reach a control panel somewhere in the palace – all of which were most likely guarded by traitor soldiers – and enter his personal identification number to override the system. The impact jarred him from toe to head. A venomous curse escaped him as Lucien fought away the dizziness that threatened to come over him from the abrupt impact, slamming the button to eject the door from his hellboat as he stumbled out, blinking away the darkness and gaining his bearings. He had landed in a cluster of stairs that now sported a smoking black pod in their midst, other soldiers already swarming around him to check for any hostile forces as they advanced towards the palace, Lucien moving quickly to assume command as they approached the doors. Many stopped there, seeming suddenly unsure, just as their prince stepped forth and slammed his foot into the doorway, charging through the gap as the colossal structure opened, plasma and ballistic fire – much to the stunned disbelief of his attackers – bouncing harmlessly off the armour as he smashed into their ranks, Silthrim moving like a shining bolt of divine judgement as it slaughtered any and all who stood in the path of its master, soldiers already scrambling away even as they were mowed down by the fire of the Helljumpers, the prince double-checking his kills and scowling when he saw various infantry logos on their uniforms. They were just grunts, not the elite crown guard, which explained how easily they had been dispatched. He peered ahead and ordered two squads to take the far right passage to the communications centre, whilst three others moved towards the palace ‘dungeon’, if it could still be called that, to free the loyal crown guard. He took with him Riptide’s squad alone and proceeded through the middle of three doorways, barrelling through a hail of assault weapon fire and ending two lives in a single slice, his bodyguards as it were killing those that attempted to flank him with quick, decisive shots to the head. “Maverick, Goose, Avalanche hold position here and call if you need help – the rest of you stay on me.” Thusly re-organized, Lucien and his now eight-man escort jogged past tapestries and portraits, through a varied maze of corridors suspiciously devoid of any activity, though they could hear shouts and gunfire on occasion from battles in other parts of the palace. Stopping in front of a pair of gilded mahogany doors, Lucien turned to his escort, “Behind these doors lie the waiting chamber and then the throne room. My instincts tell me they’ll attempt to lure us into an ambush within the throne room by sending a whole lot of badly trained soldiers against us in the waiting room. When we enter, I want an octagonal distribution of shrapnel grenades. Your shield generators will protect you from the weapons by our attackers will be ripped to pieces. Wait for them to get close then activate the charges, hold them for two seconds in a throwing position and then hurl with all your might. They have a four second timer, so you better hope you throw hard and don’t mess up the timing on it, or you’re going to lose a limb or three.” They nodded and Lucien opened the door. The attack was just as expected as they rushed into the room, the prince standing amongst them as the trained crown guard soldiers prepared their explosives and proceeded to hurl them in perfect coordination, the explosions sending razor shards of crystal hurtling in all directions. Their enemies fell like flies, dropping dead or mutilated to the ground from the garish strike. None of the nine, especially not Lucien, spared a glance for the traitors – they had earned their fate when they turned their back on their fealty to the throne. The infiltration up until then had been, surprisingly, relatively easy – through the hardest and last challenge was ahead. High Lord Le’Medre was beyond the doors ahead and the prince planned to see him dead, but first he would have to pass through the fury of the crown guard, soldiers that he had in some cases known since childhood. He hefted his shield, readied his blade, and opened the doors with a strike of his armoured foot, to behold a scene that would stay with him until his dying breath... Lucien’s eyes went wide with disbelief as he took in the gruesome visage of the throne room; elfish bodies thrown like so much unwanted trash over every meter of marble flooring, blood ran amidst the towering pillars like water, spilling out into the hallway through the now-opened doors. Within the battle still raged, less fighting but more violent than any others, brother against brother as friend was indistinguishable from foe, plasma spears rending flesh and bone as soldiers fell with dying screams. At the northern most point of the room, upon the dais that held the golden throne, the High Council stood in reduced number – all but two of them lay to waste as bloodied corpses. Le’Medre stared at the prince with a look of pure hatred, the emperor seen behind him – restrained by two of the traitor crown guard as the High Lord jumped down from his position on the throne tier, wading through the conflict towards Lucien, blinded by his ambition and reduced to a startlingly extreme case of tunnel vision. His blade was gripped firmly in his right hand, its bejewelled hilt glittering in the artificial light of the throne chamber as he sliced through a loyalist who attempted to block his passage, lips peeled back in a snarl with his gaze still firmly placed upon his self-proclaimed enemy. His advance was halted by a battling group of soldiers, Lucien taking the opportunity to raise Silthrim and move towards the betrayer, head down to guard himself from attack, shield raised and shoulders squared. Where Le’Medre walked with his head held high, the prince chose practicality over nobility – better to be humble and alive than noble and dead. A traitor jabbed at him from the side with a plasma spear, which Lucien blocked with The Phoenix Aegis, raising the shield high and shifting towards his left to slice the spear in half at the shaft, turning the blade horizontal and reverse-slicing the attacker in half at the waist, kicking him in the chest to send his torso away from his legs as he died. Armoured feet sloshed amidst the small puddle of blood in his way, Lucien’s golden-red eyes fixed hungrily on Le’Medre as he renewed his advance following the combatants passing, flourishing his longsword in anticipation as Lucien flicked Silthrim clean of the blood coating it – a strange thing to be able to do, considering the way blood stained – and re-affirming his hold on his shield. They closed distance and the High Lord threw the first blow, a standard stab that was stopped dead by the Aegis, the prince raising the shield up slightly to dart a stab below it at the High Lord’s midriff, jumping back as it was dodged and re-engaging with an arcing vertical slice that was met with a horizontal upwards parry from Le’Medre, whom received a bloody boot print upon his chest a moment later as Lucien kicked him hard, sending the man stumbling to clumsily trip over a dead body and fall backwards into the blood-soaked ground with a liquid-muffled smack, akin to a slop sound. The prince pressed his advantage even as Le’Medre rose, forcing him to parry a downwards slash on bended knee, or receive a strike that would have rent his body in two. Le’Medre spat at Lucien’s helmet and in return his opponent snapped an armoured foot into the High Lord’s throat, crushing his cartilage and windpipe, sending the other backwards in a panicked wheeze. He was pinned down with a foot as Lucien raised his blade and sans dramatic monologue pierced the traitor through the heart in a spray of blood, grunting as the liquid turned part of his shin-plate crimson. He ripped Silthrim clean from the corpse and advanced instead towards the throne, cutting down a traitor who attempted to strike him with a knife, the weapon bouncing off of his seamless chest piece. The one remaining High Lord looked at Lucien with panic as he noticed him approaching, turning to receive two plasma spears in the chest as the Crown Guard that had been restraining the Emperor defected to the winning side, no doubt in hopes for keeping their lives. Seeing this Lucien merely advanced more quickly, his gaze narrowed upon the men as they threw aside their weapons and backed away, prostrating themselves towards the Emperor off to the sides whilst the fighting began to die down, traitors and loyalists alike realizing that it was all over – for better or worse, the throne had survived the strike from usurpers. Lucien removed his helmet and shook out his white hair, closing the distance to the throne with a half-sprint and grasping his father’s hand in relief, pulling the older man into a fierce hug – an embrace only a son could muster, the prince already beginning to tremble as the adrenaline left him and he began to enter a state of shock, the reality of the situation crashing into him like an emotional landslide. He grasped his father tighter and began to hyperventilate, the Emperor holding his son stoically and murmuring calming words to the armoured prince even as he quivered from head to toe, leaning fully against the firm pillar of strength that was his father. The world around them almost ceased to exist as the pair silently reflected on what had transpired, on the magnitude of the betrayal they had witnessed. Everything that assured Lucien of the continued prosperity of the Imperium, the unity that had guaranteed they would never buckle no matter the duress, it had all been proven false by the events that had transpired – all of it had come to naught in the end, for the bonds that had so closely linked the Empire had been shaken to their core. It would take time, Lucien realized, before everything had been restored to its original stability. With a bitter thought he pondered on how the draconians would feel if they ever learned they had been given a window in which to attain total victory and had missed it entirely; it would have been worth telling them the empire had fractured within briefly just to see their stricken expressions. Thusly cheered to a small degree, Lucien withdrew from the warmth of his father’s embrace, pulling in a staggered breath as he rose to stand before the Emperor, turning to face the assembled soldiers and hope-devoid prisoners. At first he thought to put them to death, to slaughter every one of the traitorous ilk and purge them from the Imperium. Then his thoughts drifted to Zexias and the way in which the younger man had spoken of ‘purging’ the loyalists in the same manner. Deciding then that he would not follow in the footsteps of a betrayer like Le’Medre, Lucien looked to his father and – when the nod of permission was given – returned his fiery gaze to the assembled and spoke; “Those of you who fought for crown and country this day, I applaud you, for you are the true blood of this nation. Your valour and sacrifice will be noted down until the very end of time as we know it.” Allowing a moment for the cheers to subside, he turned his attention instead to the prisoners, eyes distinctly cold. “For those of you that dared to draw blade against your lord and kin, I give you these words: Great is the dishonour you have brought upon your families but greater is the shame you will bear. However... you, like thousands before you, have been misled by false lords to your own destruction. In this, you are only half to blame and as such, are hereby pardoned of your crimes. I welcome you back to the ranks of the Imperium’s children, but no longer as Crown Guard nor military. You will live out the next five centuries as civilians upon the border worlds as a reminder of your sins.” Lowering his raised chin, he sheathed Silthrim and turned back to his father as the prisoners were escorted out, immediately relaxing. “Father, there is someone I would have you meet...” Katrina smoothed her skirt for the third time as she waited within the spacious room that Lucien had led her to, once again moving her eyes to take in the king size bed, the silken drapes, the merrily burning fire and the various portraits adorning the wall. She hadn’t felt the kind of nerves that now writhed in her body for years, not since she had first enrolled in Fleet. Just thinking about her reasons for doing so and the reality of the situation made her feel as if her stomach had dropped out of its socket, leaving a great nothingness that induced a feeling of giddy humour and forced her to stifle an eruption of nervous giggling, attempting vainly to compose herself in light of the magnitude of what was happening: Lucien was introducing her to his father, the Emperor! Oh gods, what if he hates me? The thought entered her head and seemed to stick, no matter how desperately she attempted to tear it away and dispose of it. The ugly truth was that it was very true that if the Emperor didn’t like her, then her chances with Lucien were all but ruined. They could never be together without his father’s blessing; he was the Crown-Prince! The Crown-Prince?! What had she gotten herself into; she was just a lowly commoner! Her heart thrummed within her chest as she gripped the edges of her skirt tightly, an attempt to keep her hands from shaking. Unwanted, a smile crept onto her lips as she considered that there were women who would kill – literally – to be in her position, that even if it didn’t work out, she would know that she alone had tasted the Prince’s lips, had seen him intimately, had been held in his arms; those memories would belong to her forever. Gods, I am so underdressed! Nervously she once again smoothed her skirt, nitpicking at even the slightest flaw that dared to present itself to her now. Her fiery red hair was immaculate, had she remembered to remove the gloss from her lips? Yes? Good, looking like a gold-digging whore was the last thing Katrina wanted – especially when the man who would be judging you was the ruler of your entire race. Her heart fluttered and she felt weak at the knees, realizing that Lucien was the future ruler of the Imperium as a whole. If, by some miracle, things worked out for her and him... Light, she would be the Empress! Another wave of faintness overcame her and she immediately sought to place her mind on other matters, deciding to focus on the events that had transpired to bring her from the Hellfire to this room. Lucien had burst into the bridge with a radiant expression, still garbed in his ceremonial armour as he had moved right towards her and swept her up off of her feet, quickening her pulse drastically. He had actually displayed open affection in full view of their entire crew several times, it was more than she could have ever hoped for – and then he had told her he intended for her to meet his father. Of course, she – like any logical elf – had asked how many days she had to prepare herself, to which the charming sadist had answered that she was to meet the ruler of the Empire within the hour! The memory alone made her break out in a frenzy of nervous giggles once more, trying her hardest to stifle them as her mind moved to her arrival on the planet via dropship and the terrible pain she had felt upon seeing the ancient steps to the palace broken by the insertion pods of the loyalist forces. When Lucien had looked to her in question of her saddened expression, she had said quietly, “It’s just sad... these steps had stayed unmolested for centuries, for something like this to happen...” He had smiled at her mysteriously when she had said that, refusing to answer why despite her increasingly persistent demands to cough up. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear the man took pleasure in leaving her clueless. Her mind fast forwarded to him guiding her through the palace corridors and telling her stories of his childhood, pointing out places he had spent playing, studying or practicing for his years in the military. Of his first fencing victory, his first rifle, his long-dead mother and her lovely manner; memories that seemed to take him faraway and made her hurt for the pain of loss that was evident in his eyes. She could scarcely imagine life without her mother, but to lose his at such a young age as seventeen would have destroyed a lesser man. In this she came to love him even more, for his strength as well as his own sincerity in his love for his mother. Katrina’s thoughts moved forward to when he had guided her to this room, told her it was the room he stayed in during his infrequent visits to the homeworld. She had detected his cologne on the pillows, seen his clothes in the cupboard, reviewed his holovid summaries of his life from when he first joined as an infantryman to his missions just before his assignment to the Hellfire. Her respect for her beloved had never been greater when she laid down a particularly sad entry detailing the death of a man he had known since enrolment. It was never easy to lose a comrade, particularly when you had known them since training. A knock at the mahogany door startled her out of her reverie, the woman immediately giving herself a quick fix of whatever needed fixing – if anything – before saying in a sing-song voice, more confidently than she felt; “Come in~!” Which was answered by the turning of a gilded doorknob and the arrival of Lucien and the Emperor, the latter dressed in a flowing white and gold robe whilst Lucien wore a casual pair of long pants and a swashbuckler’s shirt, exposing a large portion of his broad chest – something Katrina regretted not having a chance to stare at as he dropped to her knees before the Emperor, which led to a fairly large shock as she felt that same Emperor bringing her to her feet by the shoulders and smiling down at her with twinkling golden-red eyes. Lucien stepped forwards and beamed at her, causing her heart to begin racing again as she fought against fainting then and there, “Father, I want you to meet Katrina Si’vayl. Katrina, this is my father; William Senus.” Katrina almost fainted when the Emperor – the Emperor! – bowed and said politely, “Call me Bill, Katrina.” She struggled to speak and only ended up with a faint “A pleasure to meet you, B-bill” which moved to elicit a chuckle from both Lucien and William, as if they had expected that reaction. In clarification, William said to her gently; “I know how surreal this must be for you, but don’t be nervous. My son cares deeply for you and as such, you are as much entitled to my love as he is.” At this she smiled genuinely and abruptly threw her arms around him in a warm embrace, “Thank you for this gift, Bill.” He smiled and, after a moment of surprise, raised his hand to gently return the embrace with a friendly hand on the back before he patted her once to signal an end, Katrina withdrawing from the contact with flushed cheeks. She had just hugged the Emperor and called him Bill! Another giggle fit threatened and she subdued it fiercely, she was red enough as it was. Lucien, seemingly overjoyed at the mutual positivity between his father and her, stepped to her side and slid his right arm around her waist, causing her to smile up at him and move her left arm around his own, right hand resting his right hand, which had moved to settle on her right hip from his slither to wrap her waist. Facing his father, the man said something that made Katrina’s pulse stop for two seconds – he asked permission to be wed... and William gave it! Her eyes nearly popped out of her skull as she felt him detach and sink to one knee, producing a velvet box from seemingly nowhere and opening it to reveal a crystal band with the a beautifully cut ruby in-laid in a fixture within the band’s centre, her brain working overtime to process his words. All she received was ‘marry me’. Instead of a coherent, dignified answer, all she managed was a squeal and a blubbering grab and fierce kiss – pulling him against her like they were alone and naked and... Well, she thought, best not to go down that path of thought just yet. Abruptly she realized that they were still in the presence of the Emperor and hastily she broke the kiss, her cheeks a deep scarlet as she said – sheepishly, to be sure – “Yes, Lucien Senus, I’ll marry you.” William cracked a smile which his son mimicked, joy on both their faces. For Katrina, it couldn’t have been a more perfect day... Edited by Lord Synical, 30 Jun 2009, 14:15.
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Lord Synical	30 Jun 2009, 14:16 Post #23
Site Douchebag -//- Official Badass Posts: 162 Group: Admins Member #6 Joined: Dec 25, 2008	Lucien stood before the oaken doors with a mixture of anticipation and trepidation, worried not for himself – for he had long ago learned the art of politics – but for his bride-to-be, whom he had no doubt would be subject to the most brutal jibes the Imperial nobility could muster. Briefly he considered himself, hands trailing over the silky robes that adorned his body curiously. They were at their base obsidian in colour, with elfish script stitched into the silver cuffs in golden lettering, the House Senus crest emblazoned in traditional red and gold upon its back. The entire thing was one piece of clothing, his waist covered by a golden cord which was tied off at his left hip, both ends hanging down to his ankles. A click brought his head upwards as the doors opened to admit him and he strode in to a banquet. Nobles and military officials occupied various seats at an assortment of masterwork tables within the massive ballroom, lit by stunning diamond chandeliers a hundred meters above, its multiple kitchen entrances blocked from view by the colossal columns that formed rows around the borders of the room, with the exception of the main door he had just entered through. At the back of the hall, seated behind a rectangular table with an empty chair to his left sat the emperor, facing his son with beaming pride. Those assembled wolf whistled, cheered and clapped furiously at Lucien’s entrance – several of the women throwing envious, dagger-like glances at Katrina whom sat at the left of what would be Lucien’s chair, dressed in a flowing, sleeveless red dress with golden adoration in her fiery red hair. The Prince’s heart leapt into his throat as he took in the perfection that was his fiancée, swallowing as he strode past the applauding crowd with a charming smile and respectful wave here and there to join his father and Katrina at their table – sinking fluidly into his chair and using the pretence of smoothing his robe to grasp her hand, hidden by view from the hanging white tablecloth. She squeezed his firmly and seemed to relax somewhat, smiling quietly at him before directing her attention past Lucien to his father as the man stood, the prince also turning to the right to face his sire and listen to what he wished to say as he, Katrina and the rest of the guests in attendance rose in unison with the Emperor. “We are gathered here tonight to celebrate two events in which the Imperium takes the greatest of pride. First the quelling of an attempted usurping of the throne, a betrayal of a magnitude unheard of in all our many years as a race; It is doubtlessly the single greatest villainy we have experienced and we have only my son to thank for its failure.” A chorus of cheers and foot-stamping followed as William looked with pride upon his smiling son, his own smile increased a fraction as he saw the fierce pride in Katrina’s eyes. Most women would be smug, or fawning, but she was simply glad to be with the man – not the crown. It was the greatest gift he could give his son; the chance at true love. Turning back to the clapping crowd of dignitaries, The Emperor motioned for silence – it came almost immediately as he spoke once more, “The second and significantly more important reason for this gathering is that my son, your prince, has taken for himself a fiancée – the future Empress of our great nation.” He turned to Katrina and raised his glass in a toast, the rest of the assembly following suit as Lucien did the same, smiling at her proudly as he dipped her head in thanks to the Emperor’s praise. “With that out of the way,” he grinned and raised his arms, “Let the feast begin!” Laughing and the clinking of glasses followed as an army of waiters moved out from between the columns pushing trolleys laden with every type of food imaginable. Lucien settled down as a large pork roast was laid nearby and turned to Katrina, his eyes scanning her own for a moment before he spoke; “How do you feel? Have they been kind?” She blinked at him for a moment to process what he meant and then laughed in the musical manner he had come to adore, “Oh yes indeed, though the girls throwing me death glares seem to have some kind of issue I can’t quite put my finger on. They especially hate it when I do...” She reached out and kissed him softly on the lips, “...that. I can’t fathom why, but I do believe they’re jealous of me, Lucien.” In response he let forth a peal of laughter, turning to his father who smirked at him knowingly, toasting his glance to the prince’s in a victorious way as they both took a long gulp of their champagne, identical in their manner of drinking. Placing his glass down upon the table gently, Lucien pushed back his chair and stood, offering his hand to Katrina to help her up as he raised his left hand and snapped his fingers for music, a band seeming to appear from nowhere and play a classical tune almost immediately. Life was made easy, it seemed, when you were the crown-prince of the Imperium. Guiding Katrina through the tables towards a vacated square area of floor in the middle, slightly elevated, he paused and turned to her once they had reached the middle, bowing with a flourish of his right hand as he said coolly, “May I have the honour of this dance?” To which she replied with a giggle, “You may, good sir.” Her left hand moved to his corresponding shoulder as he took her right in his left, other hand placed upon the small of her back as they began the motions of what would be an elegant ballroom, those assembled turning to watch with mixtures of delight, admiration, amusement, boredom, curiosity, anticipation and – more often than not – jealously. For the dancing couple it seemed as if time had slowed to a halt around them, that they had transcended reality to their own existence, a place wherein they could be who they wished to be for however long they wished to do so, to be together forever without rule nor limitation. They were lost and consumed by the intimacy of the dance that they shared. Unknown and uncalled, Lucien said in a voice of firm conviction; “I love you, Katrina.” He felt her tense against him as they danced, only then realizing that they had come together perfectly, looking down to meet her fierce gaze as she stared right back at him, “And I love you, Lucien.” The dance continued undisturbed and reality melted away around them. Lucien stared out at the rising sun with a quiet smile upon his face, hands resting upon the granite bar set across the fence-pillars of the ancient balcony connected to his room, his body bare from the waist upwards. He had always drawn a sense of relaxation from a sunrise or sunset, even as a small child when he would curl up in his mother’s arms and fall asleep to one of her lullabies as the sun went down below the horizon, his father standing at the balcony in the same manner Lucien was now, always staring at the sun, thinking. Memories of his mother brought a soft smile to his face, remembering to his early teenage years when the then living Empress would – despite vehement opposition – force the prince to endure hours of dancing tuition whilst reiterating to him that the dance was the language of the soul, to which he would reply that whoever had first said that was obviously lacking in a good blade; eliciting a musical laugh from his mother every time. Lucien’s thoughts drifted accordingly as he turned from the sunrise and stepped back into his room, turning with a smile to where Katrina lay curled up beneath the blankets of his four-poster king-size, the cream complexion of her skin thrown into sharp contrast with the black doona. He had to admit that if there was in fact an almighty being, it had given him a gift beyond words in the form of Katrina. Admiring her for a time more, he traced the rough outline of her shape beneath the quilt and allowed himself a devious smirk, he had unwrapped and explored that gift thoroughly the previous night and he had not been disappointed. Smiling to himself and picking up his nightshirt from the ground to slip over his head, Lucien strode to and pulled open the door to his room, stepping out and locking it behind him as he moved through the hallway towards his father’s room at a leisurely pace, ignoring the crown guard soldiers lining the walls and opening the door with only a slight knock, peeking inside to find the Emperor reading a book at his desk, turning with a smile to greet Lucien’s entry. The prince smiled and moved to pull up a chair next to his aging father, running a hand through his snow-white hair to think before he spoke, each word enunciated carefully; “Father, I have a request to make of you... I wish to leave Illaria for an journey to Geneva with Katrina and the Hellfire.” William raised a brow at the request and fixed Lucien with a piercing stare, attempting to draw out from him an explanation, “To what end would you seek this course of action, my son?” Lucien’s answering sigh was plainly an attempt to avoid answering truthfully, but he did so regardless, “I wish to have a private wedding, away from the press and crowds, where it really is about Katrina and I and not the glory of the Empire.” His father regarded him thoughtfully as he said this, looking back to his book with a frown before speaking, “Very well, I’ll grant you permission Lucien. But remember who and what you are, you cannot deny your responsibilities forever. When I am gone, it will be your responsibility to rule the Imperium and that means dealing with all the hoo-ah that comes with it.” Grimly, Lucien nodded, all too aware of the reality of that fact, “I know father, I was raised well enough to realize that everyone has responsibilities, no matter the differences. It makes me wonder how the Draconians live with it, all that corporation nonsense. Our people are so much more content to allow us to continue to rule as our ancestors before us... bah, I can’t imagine life without the drama of the aristocracy.” At this William laughed, clapping his son on the shoulder in amusement, “You’ll learn to know that aristocracy better than the back of your hand m’boy. Now, off with you, give that fiancée of yours a wedding worthy of a Senus.” Lucien nodded, rising with a smirk, “I will. I learned from the best.” Lucien stood calmly, adorned in full uniform, within the interior of an Armoured Dropship as soldiers and relief crew mulled about the inside. It was one of the larger, newer versions created to be used in unison with the Tenth Generation Battlegroup: The size of a small frigate, but still referred to as a Dropship for the sake of understanding. Glancing up as the pilot announced the ten second ETA for arrival at the Hellfire and consequent landing within Hangar Four. Turning with a smile to Katrina and a salute to Riptide, who had been promoted to the Field Commander of the flagship’s on-board garrison; much to the man’s surprise and fiendish delight – the elf had a reputation for being one of the most merciless drill sergeants in the Guard, the on-board marines were in for their own little hell. Moving towards the rear of the vessel to await the coming lowering of the rear ramp, Lucien reflected that his departure had been a lot less public than was normal, he made one speech about the integrity of the Imperium, how unity was their greatest asset and that no traitor would sleep soundly whilst he was alive. Perceiving this as an open invitation, a remnant from the Rebellion had attempted an assassination – which had been quickly taken care of by the incognito crown guard. It had been swift and it had been bloodless, with the assailants restrained and taken away for summary execution. It was not something he relished happening, but it was a necessary evil all the same. The pneumatic hiss of detaching pistons brought his mind back to the situation at hand as the ramp of the transport lowered to the ground of the hangar, Lucien striding down it with Katrina in tow and acknowledging the grins and congratulatory pats with laughs and waves of his free hand, his right clasped firmly in Katrina’s left. Together they moved through the bustling workers in the hangar towards one of the free turbolifts, smiling at two engineers who wolf whistled at their passing, Lucien looking to his fiancée and leaning down to kiss her as the lift doors shut with a click, the lights of each level flashing past as they moved up the ship towards the bridge, enjoying what freedom they had before their duties required pure professionalism. The lift opened and their kiss broke as Lucien gently detached his hand from hers and strode with his head held high towards the blast doors ahead, hand gliding over the scanner panel to permit them entrance. His immediate action upon emerging within the bridge was to return the salute following the call of ‘Captain on Deck!’ followed by an immediate trip down the stairs and beeline for his chair, impatient to sit in it once more. Katrina moved past him in an elegant breeze, smiling serenely at the bridge crew as Lucien requested a briefing of what had happened in his absence, sinking into his chair and folding his left leg over his right. “Well sir,” began the communications officer, “There was a bit of confusion from the fleet as to why we had launched drop pods for the capital, I took the liberty of just sending your authorization code but otherwise ignoring their hails. It worked at first, but I think they began to suspect something when they received no word from the Palace, which I’d bet my ridiculous salary they hailed.” Lucien nodded and motioned for him to continue, peering at the viewscreen thoughtfully as the other elf spoke, “At least a dozen vessels detached from the fleet, I’m guessing to confront us, but stopped en route. I’d say it was about the time that the Emperor gave the global announcement of your victory over the rebels.” Here the weapons officer chipped in, his tone as smooth as velvet, “It was an impressive victory at that, my lord; considering the blitzkrieg manner of the operation.” Lucien accepted the compliment with a smile and turned back to the communications officer, “Well, be that as it may, was there anything of real concern that I should be alerted of? Or is everything optimal?” The elf paused to scan his mind at the prince’s query and then shook his head with a laugh, “There was a bit of partying when the crew heard you and Lady Katrina–” Katrina cut across him here “It’s just Katrina, Hotshot.” The bridge filled with laughter as she spoke, before the eccentric tactical officer spoke up with a declaration of “All hail Sparky the tactless” and even redoubled their laughing, much to Hotshot’s chagrin. Lucien’s amusement couldn’t have been more evident as he said, seriously, “Looks like you’ve got a callsign, Hotshot.” The elf groaned and facepalmed, which merely furthered the crew’s amusement at the situation. It was good, the prince decided, that they had become close enough for such jokes – though he did indeed plan to refer to their communications officer as Hotshot from then on, for ease of atmosphere more than anything. Clearing his throat to signal an end to the goofing off and a move into action, Lucien turned to Katrina and spoke in his ‘captain’ voice; a cool, calm and collected tone that demanded obedience without being aggressive. “Katrina, please plot a course for the Geneva system, planet Geneva Prime, low orbit.” “Yes, sir.” She replied, already beginning to map out the course as Lucien’s attention moved away from her. “Hotshot I want you to send an encrypted message to the Chimera upon entering the Geneva sector. Tell him that he’s officially invited to my wedding, to bring only people he trusts and that he has five days in which to get to Geneva Prime.” What met Lucien after these words was shocked silence as the entire bridge crew, including Katrina, stared at him in shock. Raising an eyebrow, he released an exasperated sigh and stated calmly, “I do not want my wedding, my true wedding, to be a fiasco of cameras and dignitaries that are only there to kiss up to myself and my father. No, this will be about my fiancée and our love. I want only my closest friends and comrades there, no one else. You all know that Hydro and I have been rivals for many decades now, we also share a fraternity. He is the brother I never had, I ask you to honour my wishes to remain silent about this. I will not hate you if you take this to the world, but I will feel deeply betrayed by such an action. If my recent victory on Illaria did not prove to you my number one concern is the Imperium, then I know not what will.” For a moment there was silence as his words were mulled over, then there was murmured assent and nodding – even amongst the two guards that stood at the doors. Satisfied that his point had been made and that his crew was behind him entirely – at least, to the point they wouldn’t turn him in – Lucien settled into his chair and looked to the viewscreen, fingers coming together to bridge in his signature position, “Helm, take us to Geneva.” The wormhole opened and the flagship vanished as if it had never been. Edited by Lord Synical, 18 Jul 2009, 09:09.
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Hydro14	30 Jun 2009, 16:27 Post #24
Fanatical Roleplayer Posts: 133 Group: Mentor Member #8 Joined: Dec 25, 2008	The shuttle that waited in the Gryphon’s hangar when Hydro made his way down was a sleek, glossy black craft with darkened windows. The fleet CEO had seen the model put into production and knew that the windows were darkened to hide the fact that they were bullet proofed, the hull was sleek to reduce atmospheric friction which made the shuttle more agile in atmosphere than most of the DUC fleet’s fighter craft, and the paint was glossy so that the casual observer would not notice that the light was reflecting an equal amount off the energy shield as it was off the paint. This was the kind of vehicle used to transport high risk witnesses to court cases, or to get the directors from one place to another in times of civil unrest. It was also, apparently, now used for transporting high ranking military officials who had just been subject to elaborate assassination attempts. Upon boarding the craft he also found that his security detail had doubled in size, a kind gesture but they hadn’t really helped much last time. Besides, Hydro hoped that with Ambassador Edison dead, this whole messy business was concluded, but then the world hadn’t really taken much consideration before for what he hoped, why should it start now? Awkwardly flexing his wounded arm, the draconian seated himself and fastened his seatbelt, he didn’t expect the shuttle to be attacked but just in case it was it wouldn’t do to be bouncing around the inside of the craft like a frog in a glass bowl. A viewscreen communicator had been made available to him and his first thought was to contact the hotel where he had been told the officers who had chosen to come down to the planet with him were staying, but before he could finish dialling the screen sprung to life, showing the face of the Draconian Unified Conglomerate CEO. “Hydro, it is good to see that you returned in one piece. Myself and the entirety of the board owe you an unreserved apology commander, we should have seen this coming a mile off.” “No disrespect meant sir, but yes, you should’ve.” Hydro was feeling generally quite bitter about his close brush with death. This wasn’t how honourable men fought, using lies and deceit to plant a dagger between each other’s shoulders. He had thought that a warrior had the advantage of knowing who his enemies were and the rules by which they played, but his career was becoming inexorably linked with politics, a field which he was wholly unprepared for. The CEO grimaced, “It’s good that you thought to take that audio recorder with you, without it this case might’ve been a lot less clear cut but as it is I don’t think anyone will question your decision to kill the ambassador in a summary execution, although the elven escort wing that aided you in your attack on the hangers is something of a grey area.” “It wasn’t as much a summary execution as a fire fight.” Hydro answered scathingly. “I think it’s best if we keep that to ourselves, don’t you commander? The less in control of the situation you appear the more your judgement becomes subject to question.” Hydro merely rolled his eyes and gave no answer, deciding to leave the political spin to those who knew about it. “What are the results on the blood tests?” he asked, “Do we know yet whether Edison was on anything that might have impaired his judgement?” “The corpse only just arrived at the hospital a few moments ago so we’ve only got preliminary analysis but I don’t think there can be any doubt that he does have some unnatural compounds in his blood stream. I’ll let you know when we know more. There has been some good new though. In your absence Blade and Sylph were able to track down the Manticore in the Aionis system. Their reports stated that there had been a mutiny and Fang was in the brig when they took the ship with a short but fierce fire fight. Several crew members were missing along with the spare fighter craft, but we’ve recovered the codes and the command software and Fang is now awaiting a military trial.” “So that should be the end of it, right?” Hydro asked anxiously, “That’s the last of the conspirators dealt with?” “Let’s hope so, commander, we can’t be sure Fang was involved or if he was just the motive. Until we can be sure let’s not take any chances, okay?” “Yes sir.” Hydro answered, and the face vanished from the screen with a curt nod. At once he set about dialling the number he had half finished before and waited for the screen to light up again. “Hydro! Gods, where’ve you been?” “Sef, how easily can you get to the spaceport?” “It’s about five minutes away, why?” “Right. Meet me there.” Hydro had informed his security personnel that he was expecting Sefie to meet them at the spaceport, but as it was they still insisted on keeping her well away him until they’d searched her for concealed weapons. Once more the spaceport was crowded with armed guards, holding back hordes of screaming fans, but this time Hydro noticed a gaggle of photographers, reporters and cameramen taking up most of the space at the front of the mob. It seemed almost as if the attempt on his life had doubled the size of his fan cult overnight. “Sir, there’s a reporter from Prime Television News Hour, demanding to interview you.” Hydro glanced away from the crowd to see a rather pushy looking red draconian woman arguing with his security guards and waving around a microphone as if it was some kind of free pass to go wherever she wanted. She was flanked by a pair of rather awkward looking green reptiles, one holding a large camera, the other a sound boom. Hydro thought, observing them, that they looked like the kind of team who’d take apart the words of a sentence and string them back together to make a construction that had totally the opposite meaning and then screen it. Besides, what was it the CEO had said? ‘The press are a useful tool, but you should never show them your whole hand.’ “Tell her I have other business.” He instructed the sergeant, who walked over to the pair of guards detaining the reporter. Hydro watched with some amusement as the reporter’s face changed from a fake cheery smile to a look of abject hatred, and responded with a wry grin which earned him a rather rude gesture in reply. “Shall we wave the cameras on, sir?” the sergeant asked, returning to Hydro once more, “For the wellbeing of your girlfriend it might be best if you two weren’t photographed together.” “Yes, it would be a good idea if you-.” Hydro stopped, catching the grin that was flickering across the edges of the sergeant’s mouth, “Oh, very funny.” Finally having finished searching Sefie, the guards let her through. Hydro noticed that they had cautioned her to keep her face hidden beneath the hood of her coat until they had had the chance to send away the camera crews. “I thought they were going to insist on a strip search for a moment,” Sefie grumbled, “where’ve you been anyway? And what happened to your arm?” “Planet Geneva.” Hydro answered coldly, “Having the fun of being shot at by both sides this time.” Sefie clearly wasn’t sure what to make of this reply and consequently was left a few steps behind as Hydro set off through the shopping centre towards the street level exit. He was moving at a comfortable walking pace for him, but the green draconian was half running to keep up. “You were betrayed?” she guessed. “Yes.” Hydro answered, “My assignment was to escort an ambassador to planet Geneva. The ambassador was Fang’s father, and he was the kind of man who bears a grudge.” “So he tried to kill you just because his son decided to throw his life away?” Sefie’s tone was incredulous. Hydro had to give her credit, revenge was an ideal that made even less sense to her than it did to him, and that was saying something. “While under my command.” Hydro finished, why he was defending Edison’s point of view he really didn’t know. Finally realising that Sefie was having trouble keeping up with him, the fleet CEO slowed down a little. “Did anything happen here while I was gone?” he inquired. He thought it unlikely that anyone would have targeted his crew, but Edison had to have accomplices and the reports of Fang’s desertion would have been quite a hiccup to his plan. “No, it’s been totally quiet.” Hydro was visibly relieved at Sefie’s response. “No-one’s had much to do while the Chimera’s being repaired. Mastermind and Cell came back to the hotel late the first night, totally drunk. We had to help them up the stairs.” “No illegal substances were imbibed I assume?” Hydro pressed, his tone suggesting that he was indifferent either way. “I didn’t ask.” Sefie answered. “Sparkx and I went to catch that movie you didn’t want to see.” She continued. Hydro contained the laugh that threatened to escape him as he realised that she was trying to make him jealous of Sparkx, but couldn’t help but smile. “Was it a good film?” he asked, refusing to be drawn into her trap. “Yes, very good.” Sefie replied, and Hydro knew at once that she hadn’t actually gone to see it or the usually talkative draconian woman would have given him a comprehensive summary of the plot, the atmosphere of the cinema, and quite possibly a biography of the starring actors. He nodded evenly, tempted to ask what the title was, but elected to let her think he had been hoodwinked. Silence descended once more as the pair emerged from the shopping centre onto a metal plated walkway that clung limpet-like to the side of the spaceport superstructure. Opposite it was another building similarly barnacled and connected by an arched bridge across which a multitude of people were walking. Hovercars and sky busses whizzed past the bridge, above and below, their flight paths stretching as far up into the sky as the tops of the monolithic structures themselves and as far below as the shadow shrouded earth. Neither draconian glanced twice at it, although Hydro gave an exasperated sigh as his security detail formed a perimeter around them and set about clearing a path through the crowd. “Sefie?” Hydro asked suddenly, a thought dawning on him as they passed through the gaggle of pedestrians. “Hmm?” she replied, her mind clearly on other things. “Why did you join the fleet?” He regretted the question as soon as he asked it, not only because it could be interpreted as an attempt to get rid of her, but mainly because he wasn’t prepared to answer the same question himself. “Well that came out of nowhere.” Sefie replied with a slight laugh, “Why do you ask?” “You just don’t strike me as the kind of person to whom the wholesale perforation of elves would appeal.” Hydro answered, wondering if the best option open to him was to finish this ill thought topic of conversation as soon as possible. “Neither do you.” For some time Hydro was silent, realising he had trapped himself. “I was assigned to the military as my penance for a crime.” He admitted at last, his tone conclusive and able to leave little doubt that he would speak no more of the matter. Again, Sefie didn’t take the hint. “Miscarriage of justice?” she inquired. “No.” Hydro answered simply, his tone level and hiding the pain he felt. Sefie’s first assumption had been that he had been the victim of a set up, she clearly didn’t see him as the kind of person who could be involved in any wrongdoing and while he had not known her at the time when he was on the wrong side of the law he could not help but feel that his actions had betrayed her. “The sentence I received was required.” He stated. “You believe it was right?” “That’s what I said.” The commander had not intended to be so sharp in his reply but some of the tension he felt must have come across in his tone and he followed it with a hasty apology. “Then why does your past still hold sway over you?” “I’m afraid I don’t understand the question.” Hydro paused in the middle of the walkway, much to the alarm of his security detail, and turned to face Sefie, intending to ask her just to drop it and talk about something else until they got back to the hotel, but he was stopped in his tracks by the determined glint in the intense gaze that met him. “If you believe that what the person you used to be did was wrong, then you are no longer that person.” She said simply. Hydro had never heard her speak so seriously before, it came as quite a shock to realise she was capable of it. “Why is it that you can’t just put it aside?” Hydro gave a pained smile, her words made sense, and were his regretful memories less numerous or less potent he might have listened to them. As it was, however, he could accept only the spirit in which they were intended. “Thank you,” he answered softly, “but the things I have done are not easy to forget.” For a while there was silence between them yet again as they set off once more down the walkway. This time it was Sefie who broke it. “What do you think will happen if the Elven Imperium wins this war?” she asked in a quiet tone. For a moment Hydro was thoughtful, wondering how much of his suspicion to give voice to. “I think we will lose the contested territories, a lot of the inner sphere,” he began guardedly, “without the commercial ore deposits in the Aurion system industry will be severely impacted. There will be rising costs of vital commodities while a lot of employees are made redundant across the inner sphere. Poverty will begin to cause unrest and-.” Hydro paused, realising that Sefie was shaking her head, it seemed that he’d missed her point. “I lived on Yindar VII,” a brief pause as Sefie searched for recognition in Hydro’s eyes, before adding, “Border worlds, commercial shipyard planet.” Hydro nodded knowingly and she continued, encouraged. “That close to the Elven Imperium I knew that if the war ended we’d be one of the worlds that would be ceded under the ceasefire agreement. The planet was glassed ten years ago, but I couldn’t have known that when I left. What I thought would happen was that the population would be dispersed among the Imperium’s worlds to eliminate any chance of an organised guerrilla movement. We’d be living as second class citizens, or worse, slaves, under a dictator. That would be true hell.” Hydro was alarmed to find Sefie becoming increasingly agitated as she spoke. This time it was she who stopped and Hydro who turned to offer what consolation he could. “Gods, I hate the elves.” She sniffed, then shook her head, “No, I don’t. But I hate their government system. People born into power and influence without working for it or being deserving of it. Others denied the chance to ever rise above being an industrial worker simply by their bloodline. It’s just so unjust, barbaric almost. And that’s what we’ll be made part of if we lose. Hydro, why do we have to live in such evil times?” For a while Hydro was silent, he wondered how long Sefie had been carrying such fears around in the deep recesses of her mind. Now they had surfaced she was trembling slightly, suddenly looking very vulnerable and weak. Hydro was awed by the mental discipline it must have taken to keep those emotions concealed for so long, but now that they were released they needed dealing with if Sefie was to go on as a crewmember without being a liability. “Listen to me, Sefie.” he said, firmly grasping her shoulders, hoping to give her some of his strength through that touch, “It won’t happen.” He declared, “We won’t let it happen.” He smiled warmly and released her arms, “Will we?” Sefie returned his smile, albeit somewhat weakly, “No.” she answered. Hydro was reassured that he could rely on his communications officer not to suddenly break down without warning, but her words had shaken him as they had thrown into light a horrible truth. She fought because she feared the consequences of defeat. The draconian was alarmed to find that even he could not remember what the war had started over, and that he too was fighting to protect the people of the DUC from the effects of an elven victory. While a war was fought for such reasons there could be no compromise, no surrender. The only way this would end was a galactic genocide. It was only for the Sefie’s sake that Hydro held back the tears that threatened to escape his eyes as this realisation dawned on him. She needed her captain to appear strong in the face of all the evils that assailed them, that was his role, his responsibility to the crew of the Chimera. Inwardly, however, the fleet CEO wept. He wept for the lives he had taken and the ones that he still must take if this bloodshed were ever to end. For all the sombre, melancholy thoughts that hung about him like a suffocating cowl, Hydro’s spirits were lifted as he stepped into the hotel lounge to find all his crew gathered there. Judge and Cell were standing by a pool table, watched by Hawk and Siren. Sparkx was watching the news. Razor and Mastermind were both hunched over some manner of holographic board game, although judging by the slightly relaxed demeanour of Mastermind he was winning. Warmonger, Illusion and Diviner were all seated at one of the tables, playing cards. The security detail had waited at the door and then spread out to secure the perimeter, it seemed that in their perception no-where was safe. As the commander stood just inside the door with a wide grin on his face, Razor cursed and surged to his feet, before regaining some control and shaking hands with Mastermind who was smirking. As Razor turned away from his victorious opponent he caught sight of Hydro and greeted him with a smile. “Captain!” “Razor,” Hydro acknowledged, “how are we doing for ship repairs?” “Still a few days to go,” Razor replied with a grimace. “in the mean time, think you can beat this guy at mirage? He’s kicked my butt five times now.” Mastermind hadn’t left his seat, he was just looking smug. “Minimum stake of twenty credits, captain.” He grinned. Hydro laughed and shook his head, narrowly resisting replying with a phrase that would have made him sound remarkably like a gun slinging film hero: ‘I only gamble with my life.’ Excessive theatricality wasn’t something that the draconian was known for, even in jest. “Captain, over here!” Sparkx cried out suddenly, “Your number one fan is on!” Intrigued, Hydro fell into one of the plush chairs in front of the holoprojector displaying the news in time to see the blue skinned newsreader fading away to be replaced by the image of the fleet CEO disembarking from his shuttle at the spaceport. “The fleet commander known only as ‘Hydro’ has returned once more to Draconis Prime today having foiled an attempt against his life and the stability of the conglomerate by Ambassador Michael Edison. The war hero bravely fought his way aboard the ambassador’s commandeered carrier and dealt him swift justice in the form of a summary execution. The commander himself was unavailable for comment.” The image shrank to a small portrait of Hydro which floated to the top right corner of the screen next to a picture of Edison, who had certainly never looked as villainous in life as they had made him look in death. The newsreader, now on the screen once more, continued to speculate about his motives, summarising the events surrounding Fang’s desertion during the Sanguis campaign before rattling off, with some more zeal, Hydro’s service record and titles. “Look at where her eyes are.” Sparkx prompted, “When she was talking about Fang she was reading the autocue above the camera but when she started talking about you she looked straight into the lens.” For a while Hydro was silent while he worked that out, then he nodded slowly and chuckled, “She’s memorised all the titles. Hell, even I don’t know all the different offices and honours I hold these days.” That got a laugh from any crew members who were listening except for Sefie who was glaring daggers at the newsreader. “She’s read them enough times,” Sparkx laughed, “you can’t watch this for more than quarter of an hour without at least one article that references you being screened. You’ve got fan clubs on the subspace web chat rooms too.” Hydro rolled his eyes, then became serious as a thought struck him. “Do the media realise the dangers of what they’re doing?” he asked. It was a rhetorical question but everyone turned to look at him in confusion. “I’m not immortal.” He continued, “If they keep building all this hype around me how much of a blow do you think it will be to the morale of the populace if I die?” “They’ll probably keep it quiet until they can replace you with another cult figure.” “Thankyou, Mastermind, knowing that I’m disposable makes me feel so much better.” This time everyone laughed. “Can’t have it both ways, captain.” Hawk smirked. Hydro grinned, it was good to be back among people who he knew he could trust. “Ok, Mastermind, let’s have that game. 20 credits it is.” Mirage was a game of deception and false intelligence. It was played on a board of twelve squares by twelve with a two by two ‘command centre’ area on each side, one for each player. The competitors each had six pieces, two ‘Rahkha’ or ‘guardians’ able to move one to three squares in a straight or diagonal line, two ‘Lethia’ or ‘custodians’ which moved two squares forward and one to the side but could not take another piece in this manner, any opposing pieces within one square of it at the end of a turn were removed from play however. The final two pieces were ‘Nakatha’ or ‘cannons’ able to move one square in any direction but able to take any piece that was within four squares away from it in a straight or diagonal line without moving from its spot. In addition to these six pieces, the plays had twelve ‘Miraga,’ the mirages from which the game took its name. At the start of play, each player could make this mirage look like any other piece that they wanted and place them along with their real pieces anywhere in the three rows of the board closest to them. The mirages could move like the pieces they were disguised as but they could not take opposing pieces, making them useful for deception only. The game was won by moving any piece other than one of the Miraga into the opponent’s command centre. The game was complicated by each player’s shortage of ‘real’ pieces which made it almost impossible to cover every line of approach to the command centre. The game could be won simply by working out which of the opponent’s defending pieces were Miraga and then moving past them. Both Hydro and Mastermind began by moving several of their pieces to group around the command centres, making them more difficult to approach. The fleet CEO noticed that Mastermind had done this a great deal quicker than him as a result of a more advantageous initial deployment, which enabled him to place a pair of Lethia near the edges of the board to begin probing Hydro’s defences once they were up. The first threat came as one of these Lethia began to approach his command centre from the left side. Hydro knew at once that it must be a mirage for no skilled player would risk losing a real piece so soon in the game. It had moved into range of one of his Nakatha, a real one, but he chose not to take Mastermind’s mirage because to do so would have forced him to confirm that his Nakatha was real. Instead he moved forward one of his own Miraga, disguised as a Lethia, into range of Mastermind’s Rahkha. Mastermind at once moved his mirage closer to Hydro’s command centre, hoping to pressure him into revealing a piece. Hydro didn’t take the bait, confident that the Lethia, now only one move from his command centre, had to be a mirage. As he took his next move, advancing a Nakatha into range of Mastermind’s pieces, his opponent gave a knowing nod and removed the mirage from the board, useless now that it had been identified beyond a shadow of a doubt. Mastermind then advanced with a Rahkha, taking time to check the move before removing his hand from the piece, making sure it wasn’t under threat from any of Hydro’s pieces. The fleet CEO was careful not to jump to any conclusions about that, the bluff of concern for the piece was so obvious that it could easily be a double bluff. His next move, striking directly at one of Mastermind’s defensive pieces with his Nakatha and removing a mirage from the board, took his opposite by surprise. It was irregular, Hydro knew, to reveal a true piece willingly so soon in the game, but the draconian tended to value being unpredictable, sometimes even before being sensible. Mastermind at once moved to threaten the Nakatha with a Lethia, the only piece that could effectively counter it, and while Hydro suspected that it was a mirage he wasn’t prepared to risk his Nakatha on that assumption and pulled it back. For a while moves were exchanged without consequence. Two of Hydro’s Miraga were taken, exposing a Rahkha and a Nakatha that defended Mastermind’s command centre. Mastermind had also lost two pieces, masquerading as a Nakatha and another Lethia. Whether either of them had been real Hydro had no way of knowing, but he had had to reveal a Rahkha and a Lethia to do it. The game was drawing quite a crowd, firstly Razor had come to watch, realising that Hydro wasn’t losing by the significant margins that he had been, and then steadily the rest of the crew began to gather around. Hydro was now in a difficult situation. If he was forced to reveal another piece then all his Miraga disguised as that type of piece would be useless as Mastermind would have identified them all. Since Nakatha were the most powerful pieces and so the ones that were likely to be drawn out of hiding first, Hydro only appeared to have four on the board while Mastermind had six. If he could expose the real ones that meant Hydro would be able to write off four of his foe’s remaining nine Miraga, assuming that none of the lost pieces had been real. Mastermind moved one of his Rahkha towards an empty spot in Hydro’s defensive line. Hydro responded by moving a mirage Nakatha to block the breach. Mastermind fell for the bluff and backed off, leaving Hydro the chance to move his already revealed Nakatha forward once more and pick off another piece. Mastermind’s Nakatha were gathered in two well arranged clusters, one each side of the command centre, meaning that their combined lines of fire covered almost all the possible approach angles. Of course, only two of them were real, but Hydro had no way of knowing which two. Moving forward one Miraga and one Rahkha, the fleet CEO advanced towards the firing line. Mastermind centred his defences, while sending forward a pair of Lethia towards Hydro’s command centre. Hydro first moved his Miraga into firing range and watched as it was removed from the board. Mastermind clearly wasn’t convinced it was a mirage and didn’t want to take the risk. Next he moved his Rahkha into range of a different Nakatha, curious to know if he could get it through. Mastermind held a blank face for a moment, then cursed, removing first Hydro’s Rahkha and then four of his own mirage Nakatha from the board. Hydro was careful not to let his expression change as he lost his Rahkha, better to let Mastermind think he had just taken a pair of Miraga. Mastermind was next to take the offensive, slowly moving forward one of his now revealed Nakatha to where it would be supported by the two Lethia. Hydro structured his defences as best he could, then moved one of his Rahkha into position to strike at the two Lethia backing up the Nakatha. Mastermind made no move to protect it, confidence, or a bluff? Guessing at the second, Hydro struck at one of the Lethia, removing it from the board. Mastermind chuckled, grinned, then took the Rahkha with his Lethia. It seemed that either Hydro had hit the wrong one or he had underestimated the resources Mastermind had dedicated to this attack. Mastermind was now moving more pieces forward, it seemed he thought the game had gone on long enough. He moved a Rahkha forward first. Hydro, assuming it was a mirage used to probe his defences, ignored it and consequently lost an already revealed Lethia. Mastermind removed his mirage Rahkha from the board. Hydro knew he was in trouble. The only real pieces he had left were his two Nakatha and one Lethia. Mastermind couldn’t know that he had lost both his Rahkha, but he would know soon enough. The tactical officer, on the other hand, he knew to have the same pieces as well as both Rahkha. The intelligence war was almost over, Mastermind’s only remaining Miraga were those disguised as Lethia, of which there were two, assuming two were real. Hydro had four mirage Rahkha left as well as a pair of mirage Lethia but he had lost his mirage Nakatha. Mastermind pressed his advantage, forcing Hydro to back one of his Nakatha away from a Lethia, making a breach for his Rahkha to exploit. Hydro was forced to use his Lethia to stop the Rahkha reaching his command centre, not only losing his mirage Lethia but also then losing the real piece to retaliation from Mastermind’s Nakatha. A few short moves later Hydro had lost both his Nakatha and threw up his hands. “That’s it.” He declared, “I only have Miraga left.” “Good game.” Mastermind acknowledged with a grin as Hydro handed over the money. A few groans of ‘Mastermind wins again’ from the crowd, then Siren abruptly glanced at the clock. “Shit, I’m meant to be at the spaceport compiling a short list of applicants to be the Chimera’s new helm commander.” Mastermind, already on his feet to ease the cramps out of his muscles, a result of sitting down too long, moved to the coat stand. “You’ll want this; it’s a bit chilly outside.” “Thanks, Mastermind.” Hydro stood up, glanced at the game board one more time, observing with some amusement that none of the pieces that had been defending Mastermind’s command centre in the latter half of the game had actually been real, then powered down the holographic board. The draconian’s thoughts were once more one Ambassador Edison’s treachery as he stood leaning against the handrail on the bridge between the nightclub and a different hotel. He reflected on the opportunities that had been lost. Lucien and Hydro, negotiating a ceasefire that could easily have been the first step to ending the war. If only that blasted ambassador had given him leave to compromise, or even presented an offer of peace that had a shadow of a chance of being successful. “Edison, you meant to kill me that day, but how many others have you sentenced?” Hydro snarled inwardly, and realised that he was gripping the handrail in a vice like hold brought on by frustration. One man’s ambition bringing low an entire nation, he would have thought it unthinkable had he not witnessed it himself. Still, the organisation of the DUC was not entirely free of blame, it was in their nature to promote personal financial betterment, it was the way of a corporate government. As Hydro considered the way in which the conglomerate was run, he could not help but chuckle at the amalgamation of two ideas seemingly at total odds with each other: democracy and buying power. Voting was done in a truly odd fashion in the DUC: at the start of each voting period, each person within DUC territory, irrespective of birth or wealth, was given an identical number of shares. If they believed strongly enough in any of the candidates for CEO, then they could simply give the shares to that candidate’s efforts, however they were encouraged to sell them for a reasonable price. The logic was that, since there was no system of inheritance in the DUC, a person’s wealth was an accurate representation of their calibre for management and ingenuity. It also, ironically, served a socialist agenda by redistributing the wealth of the candidates among the populace. None the less, measures were in place to ensure that, once given or sold, a share could not then be sold on, a person could be sure of who they were voting for when they gave their shares. Hydro reflected dourly that while this did ensure that the person who ended up as CEO was probably the most suited for the job, it did make the DUC as a whole somewhat fractious. For all that he believed about the Elven Imperium’s oppressive regime of hereditary rule, the belief in a divine mandate given to their emperors probably gave them a lot more unity as a nation than the DUC. For the first time he began to wonder if neither system was entirely correct, and if both could learn from the other. He chuckled at the mental image of being punched in the face by a draconian and an elf at the same time for making the suggestion. Left alone with his thoughts, he wondered if, were the DUC to win the war, how long it would remain as a single entity before splitting into independent corporations once more. There was no doubt in his mind that, for all its evils, war had a way of binding people together. One way or another, the days of the DUC were over. The spirit of co-operation that had formed it just wasn’t there anymore. His thoughts moved then to where he was. This bridge held great significance to him, he liked to think of it as the bridge between his past and his future. This was where they had brought him in that night 28 years, 4 months and 23 days ago. The fake marble floor had been stained red with blood that night; the blood of an enemy and the blood of a loved one. Kneeling down on the floor the draconian found that there was still a fracture in the glaze of the floor, left by a bullet he had fired. He had taken the option to join the military as a way to escape a slow, lingering death on a prison ship. His pain and anger had become his strength. He had not cared what he was fighting for, there was only the battle, the release of his inner fury. There was only the enemy in front of his rifle, and the one beyond him, the draconian had not cared if he lived or died. He didn’t know at which point he had begun to fight for something more, but he could make a guess. Two years after joining the military, longer than any infantryman could reasonably be expected to survive, he was given his first command. It was not normal practice to promote convicts but Hydro, as he had come to be known by that time, had more experience than a lot of field commanders when he became a sergeant. On the day of his promotion he had felt two things that he had thought lost to him forever: pride, and responsibility. Others now placed their trust in him, and their lives in his hands. He had a duty to them to get them back to the drop ships at the end of each operation, a simple enough duty, but one that he had begun to take very seriously. It was from the camaraderie he built with that first squad that he had begun to reconstruct his sense of self worth. Over the years the faces had changed, and the number of people under his command had grown, but the duty had remained the same: win the battle, bring them home. Of his original squad, the only two he knew to still be alive were Sylph and Blade, now captains of their own vessels, several others he knew had left the military a long time ago. Where they were now, he had no idea. The faces that replaced them were his current officers: Mastermind, cool, collected, always there to get the team out of a tight spot; Sparkx: a genius and no mistaking it; Sefie, with her bright personality and eternal optimism; Warmonger: taciturn, sometimes even cold, but then a gunner had to be. Hydro’s mind flitted across each of the others in sequence until he came to Wayfarer. His funeral was in a few days time and Hydro planned to be there. ‘How many more?’ he reflected, ‘How many more have to die before this war will fu-?’ “Someone outside to see you, sir.” Hydro started, he had almost forgotten that his security detail were outside the door. Out of the corner of his eye he caught the tiny dot of a laser sight roaming across the floor. The snipers were ready. “Thank you.” He replied as the sergeant stood aside to admit the guest. Siren was once again in her fleet uniform, aside from the coat she had thrown on before stepping outside, apparently having come straight from interviewing the applicants for the post of helm commander aboard the Chimera. Either there had been fewer candidates than Hydro had expected, or Siren had just been very efficient. “Sefie told me I’d find you here, captain.” She said, stepping into the room. “Siren, do you have the shortlist for my inspection already?” “Not yet, captain, there’s been an unexpected complication.” Siren’s tone was apologetic. “Don’t worry about it, we’ve got several days before the Chimera needs to be ready to return to the front lines.” “Actually I came here because one of the applicants had demanded to speak with you. Normally I wouldn’t consider it important but he insisted that he knew you.” Hydro’s expression darkened slightly as he wondered how this person knew him. It was possible that it was one of his old squad mates re-enlisting, but unlikely. “Ok, I’ll drop by the spaceport later tod-.” He paused, there was a ringing noise coming from somewhere. At first Siren looked as confused as him, and this confusion only appeared to increase as she traced the sound to her own pocket. “What’s this?” she asked rhetorically, “I don’t have a cell phone.” The events that followed all unfolded so quickly that Hydro could barely comprehend them. Siren drew the source of the noise from her coat pocket, it didn’t look much like a phone. The sound of plasma glass shattering surrounded them and Siren’s eyes lost their focus, a thin line of blood trickling from the side of her forehead. Next thing Hydro knew, two of his security personnel were tackling him to the ground and an almighty explosion ripped through his eardrums. Waking up was like surfacing from the depths of a black ocean. From the inky void of oblivion came a few scattered pinpoints of light, and sounds, muffled and indistinguishable from one another became steadily sharper. At first he felt as if he was drifting without any sense of direction and he couldn’t feel anything. Having undergone extensive training in a zero gravity environment, this experience was not as disturbing for the fleet CEO as it might have been for others, and he forced himself to relax and gather together what information he could remember until he could regain his senses. Slowly the darkness retreated from the edges of his vision and he found himself looking at a plain white ceiling overhead. The air was heavy with the smell of antiseptic fluids, and were it not for the open window a few metres to his right the stench would have been overpowering. He was unmistakably in a hospital and was wearing a white gown. On the opposite side of his bed a curtain, pale blue with floral decoration, separated him from the rest of the ward. Hydro’s eye at last fell upon a small metal table by the side of the bed. Beneath a pair of ‘get well soon’ cards which he ignored, was a tablet computer. Curious, he reached for it, recognising the stiffness in his right arm that he had come to associate with having a limb re-grown from stem cells and then grafted on. Most of it, he realised was just the skin, but below the wrist the joints were stiff as well, had he lost a hand in the explosion? Tapping a few buttons he powered up the computer and grinned at the information that appeared, someone it seemed had known that more than cards and best wishes, he would want to get to work finding out what had happened. The news itself, however, wasn’t good. The blood tests had come back from the corpse of Ambassador Edison, it seemed that prior to the incident he had imbibed a large quantity of narcotics. In small doses the chemical in question was said to increase reaction speeds as well as numbing fear and making the user feel invincible. It was understandable that the ambassador might have deliberately taken the drug in order to find the courage to carry out his plan, but not in such quantities. The dose that the ambassador appeared to have taken would have induced acute paranoia, irrationality and would have led to multiple organ failure, which was evident, the report stated, in the corpse. In short, Edison would not have survived the warp back to Draconis Prime even if he had succeeded. Hydro scrolled down to the next section of the file and found that Siren had told Sefie about the interviewee that had demanded to speak with the fleet CEO before heading out to meet with him. When she had heard what had happened, Sefie had at once informed the remnants of Hydro’s security detail about this stranger and they had notified security at the spaceport. Unfortunately, the candidate had already left, in quite a hurry it seemed. They hadn’t yet found him, but they had a name and a description was being circulated through the media, he couldn’t hide for long. Nonetheless, it seemed that this business, contrary to his hopes, was far from concluded. Whoever was trying to get rid of him was still out there. Edison had merely been a Miraga, that much was clear now. One thing was for sure, Hydro was going to have to raise his game unless he wanted his whole crew to end up dead. The draconian returned the computer to the table and set about testing just how badly he had been injured. The scales on his legs were rigid and inflexible, same as his arms, but the muscles were only partially responsive as well which suggested that they had been severed by severe lacerations and then re-grown. His tail was undamaged as far as he was able to tell, as was his body and head, aside from a very dry throat and debilitating headache. Almost as an afterthought he checked his wings. “Shit.” Most of the membrane of his wings was gone, what remained hung in straggly tatters from the bones. For a few moments Hydro stared at the ghastly spectacle, then, breathing slowly and deeply, folded his skeletal wings once more against his back. For a few moments he sat there, then with a terrible roar of pain and fury, breathed a plume of flames into the ceiling. Minutes rolled by until they became hours, without a clock Hydro had no way of measuring the passing of time. Slowly the stiffness in his re-grown limbs lessened and his vision and hearing lessened. He must have slept at some point because he found a glass of water on the table which hadn’t been there a moment ago. He quickly drained that after finding it and it alleviated the dryness in his throat a little. The fleet CEO was just beginning to wonder how long it would be before he could talk to someone who might be able to tell him how long it would be before he was discharged when he heard voices replace the footsteps on the other side of the curtain. “I’m sorry, the commander is still sleeping after the surgery.” A soft, patient voice was explaining. “That’s ok, I’ll wait downstairs.” Hawk’s voice answered. “No he’s not.” Hydro finally found his voice, cracked and a bit weak but still audible. The curtain was pulled back and two people stepped into the room. The first was the Chimera’s fleet command officer; the second was a woman who Hydro assumed must be a member of the hospital staff. “Captain.” Hawk greeted with a salute. “Have I really been out so long that we’re back on duty now?” Hydro inquired dryly and accompanied by a wry grin. Hawk smiled back awkwardly and dropped the salute, “No, sir.” “How long have I been here then?” Hydro pressed. “Eighteen hours, sir, give or take about twenty minutes.” “What happened to Siren? Is she-?” “Dead sir, your security team shot her but even if they hadn’t… Well there wasn’t enough of a corpse left to ID so I don’t think she would have survived the blast anyway.” Hydro flinched at the news though it wasn’t entirely unexpected. Suddenly struck by a sickening suspicion, the draconian turned to the nurse and raised the empty glass from the table, “Do you think you could get me some more water please?” he asked amicably. As soon as she was gone, the commander’s attention flitted back to Hawk. “The worst is still to come.” He prophesised, “Whoever was behind this also co-ordinated the efforts to be rid of me on Geneva and he’s still out there.” Hawk’s expression was blank, “You mean Edison? But he’s dead.” Hydro shook his head solemnly, “Edison was only the instrument, the one who orchestrated it remains unknown. The ambassador was poisoned with a psychosis inducing drug. It had already begun to kill him when I finished the job. Tell no-one outside the crew of this, I don’t know who to trust anymore.” At that moment the nurse returned with the glass refilled. Hydro was impressed by how quickly Hawk reacted by changing the subject. “Sparkx is waiting down in at the entrance.” He stated, “We finally managed to persuade Sefie to get some sleep about an hour ago, she’d been here for most of the night.” Hydro made a point of drinking from the glass before replying, “That’s good, I imagine I won’t be in here much longer?” The last phrase had been directed at the nurse once more who nodded. “You’ll be released once we can be sure that your muscles have reformed properly.” “So in other words if I can walk out of here then I’m fit to leave?” “Yes, I suppose so.” Hydro grinned broadly, “Great. Where can I find my clothes?” Edited by Hydro14, 22 Aug 2009, 11:19.
	My loyalty is a double edged blade: I will stand by you while what you do is right and just, but I will never support you when doing so would force me to betray what I believe.


Hydro14	12 Jul 2009, 18:41 Post #25
Fanatical Roleplayer Posts: 133 Group: Mentor Member #8 Joined: Dec 25, 2008	It was a much more subdued welcome that Hydro had received when he returned to the hotel when compared to the jovial atmosphere he had experienced upon his arrival from Geneva. Cell and Warmonger’s game of snooker had not drawn the crowd that had been gathered around the table last time and the only conversations going on were spoken with hushed voices. Hydro had spoken to each of the crew in turn and then had sat down opposite Mastermind over a mirage board. After getting completely steamrolled twice because his mind wasn’t on the game, the fleet CEO had made his apologies and retreated to his room where he was now. The security detail had warned him about the balcony, cautioning that while the dome-like window that covered the extended platform had been replaced last night with a bullet proof sheet, it probably wouldn’t block a sniper rifle, an incendiary device, or a direct collision with a hovercar. None the less, Hydro was confident that his assailant wasn’t about to try something that displayed such a lack of planning an ingenuity, and was currently standing on the balcony, gazing at the vehicles that shot past outside, and the building opposite. He was wearing a loose fitting pair of trousers, his wing bones still dripping from being in the shower, his arms folded over his copper coloured torso. The two attacks that had come so far had firstly been the manipulation of a corrupt diplomat, and the skilful planting of an explosive on a member of his crew, but the point was that they had both been indirect and probably took quite a long time to plan. It seemed that the kind of person who did this wouldn’t try to snipe him as he stood on his balcony, or fly a hovercar into him, because it was just too obvious. A faint buzzing back within the room caught the draconian’s attention and he glanced first over his shoulder to determine what it was, then turned away from the urban vista when the source still evaded his perception. Buried under a discarded towel he found his viewscreen communicator once more and tapped a button to turn it on. A few seconds later he rotated it through 180 degrees so that the face he was looking at did not appear upside down. It was the visage of his security sergeant, who he acknowledged with a nod. “Sir, we’ve found the man who sent Siren to you.” “That’s good news.” Hydro replied grimly, “When will he be available for questioning?” “He won’t be.” came the disappointed answer to the fleet CEO’s query, “He’s dead.” Hydro growled, flames flickering through his teeth. “Cause?” he asked tiredly. “Bullet to the back of the head.” The sergeant answered, “We think that whoever hired him wanted to keep him quiet.” “Damn it!” Hydro cursed, seating himself on the edge of the bed and running a clawed hand across his scaly scalp in an expression of exasperation, “So we’re back with no leads then?” “Not quite sir, we’ve analysed the camera footage of the interview and we can tell that the suspect didn’t get within a metre of Siren or any of her belongings. Wherever the bomb was planted on her, it must have happened before then because she didn’t stop anywhere except the hotel on her way to meet you. Unless of course she picked it up at the hotel tha-.” “Don’t go there, sergeant.” Hydro cautioned, dismissing the suggestion with a flick of his hand, “my crew are above suspicion in this matter.” The sergeant nodded in affirmation, somewhat tersely to Hydro’s eyes, “Yes sir.” The screen went dead. Placing the computer back on the bedside table, teak or plastic, the draconian had not the patience to investigate, he set about running through his exercise routine. It was, he had found, a necessity to follow any grafting of re-grown limbs with some light exercise as the replacement extremity tended to be somewhat atrophic due to having been grown from stem cells to whatever age the patient was at an accelerated rate and without any prior work done. Having a replacement arm was, for instance, like having an arm that you had gone your whole life without using. With this in mind, he cut down the usual number of press ups from 100 to 60 to prevent his wrist complaining too much. Hydro had just reached 58 when the door burst open. “I’m sorry- I should have been there when you got back- I asked them to wake me but no-one did- it’s terrible what happened to Siren- can you believe that at first the security team thought she’d done it on purpose- Oh my god, what happened to your wings?” Hydro was still trying to comprehend each individual unit of sense in what the person who had just burst into his room had asked, she had spoken so quickly it was difficult to follow. Consequently it took him a while to realise firstly that the intruder, of whom only the feet were visible to him, was Sefie, and secondly that she had asked him a question. “Don’t bother knocking first.” He commented in an amused tone, chuckling as he finished his work out and got to his feet once more, grabbing the towel from the floor and throwing it over the back of a chair in a vain effort to make the room appear less untidy.. “Uh, sorry.” Sefie apologised awkwardly Surprised that she hadn’t launched into another salvo of half formed questions, Hydro glanced back in her direction and found her blushing, eyes fixed upon his well muscled torso. Rather than suffer this distraction making the conversation proceed unnecessarily slowly, the fleet CEO reached for a shirt. Sefie found her voice again almost at once. “Did they find the man who framed Siren?” “They did.” Hydro answered, moving a pair of chairs out to the balcony and seating himself on one, “He’s dead. It seems that he was just another tool, killed before we could make him talk.” Sefie sighed and sat down quickly, looking straight ahead, scowling. “If they’d just listened we’d have got to him first.” “What do you mean?” Hydro asked patiently. “Your security team.” Sefie answered, “When I told them about him they said it had probably just been a ruse to find out where you were. I had to show them the security recordings before they believed he even existed and by then he was gone.” Hydro nodded and gave a wordless grunt of agreement before adding “How’d you get the records?” “Sparkx and Mastermind.” she replied. The draconian exhaled slowly and leaned forwards, resting his elbows on his knees and his snout in his hands. “Something wrong?” Sefie asked, concern evident in her tone. “It’s just… all this,” Hydro waved at the city beyond the plasma glass, “I used to think I understood how it worked. Villainy, deception, trickery, I thought I-.” a brief pause to check his wording, “I thought I knew it all. I’m just completely out my depth here.” For a moment there was silence once more, then Hydro continued. “This isn’t something I know how to fight, Sefie, I’m used to a foe that I can see but here I just don’t know where to strike. I don’t know how I can keep everyone safe.” “Hydro, it’s all right.” “No, it’s not.” Hydro snapped, “Siren’s dead because I’ve failed her, I have a responsibility to keep all of you safe, that’s what it means to be a captain, and I can’t do that.” Abruptly the commander realised the cost of his outburst, the last thing he needed was to shake the trust that his crew had in him. “I’m sorry,” he apologised, “I shouldn’t have spoken to you like this.” A moment of silence passed again as Hydro stared at the vehicles flying by, then he felt a gentle touch on his shoulder and Sefie’s other hand touched the side of his face, tenderly but forcefully directing him to look at her. He wasn’t sure what he expected to see in her eyes, shock? Disappointment, perhaps? What he had not expected was conviction and trust, which was what greeted him in those amber irises. “You’ll think of something.” She told him, certainty in her tone, “You always do.” In spite of himself, Hydro managed to smile, “I hope you’re right.” “I know I am.” Sefie answered with a smile of her own, “I have faith in you, whoever you really are.” “Thank you, Sefie.” Hydro said quietly, regaining some of his former composure. Sefie gave another radiant smile and removed her hand, “You know for a few moments there you remembered how not to be a captain.” She laughed then, the same musical laugh she had made on the bridge before all this foul business had started, and Hydro found himself laughing too. Then the moment passed and she was standing, saying that she had better leave because still had an officer’s report to write and the fleet CEO was agreeing with her because he had to take over where Siren left off, finding a replacement helm commander, and now a navigational officer as well. Alone in his room once more, Hydro sought out his robes of rank slung haphazardly across bits of furniture. He wasn’t really paying much attention when the three hovercars blazed past the window but, his interest piqued, he walked out on the balcony once more to observe. Far above, a red vehicle adorned with gold and silver vinyl in the shape of a burst of flames was struggling to avoid a pair of police vehicles in pursuit. As he watched, the fugitive looped around a suspended walkway, losing both police vehicles, only to have a pair of hover bikes join the chase in their place. The pursuit promptly vanished among the other buildings, but not before Hydro had come to respect the pilot’s skill. With a dry chuckle, he donned his robes and stepped out the door, leaving the room empty. It was getting on towards late afternoon by the time that the draconian informed the spaceport staff that he had compiled a list of people that he wanted to interview. Much to the security team’s displeasure, he was relocated from the small, secure office with which he had been provided to a larger room, this one without any windows. It was some kind of board room, lit from above by an electronic light and Hydro speculated that it was probably more for use by the spaceport’s commercial clients than by the military. All this he saw through the open door for but a moment before one of his security personnel blocked him and with the words “Please sir, give us a moment to search the room in the interest of your safety.” closed it in his face. At length, the door opened once more and he was admitted into the room and all but two of the security detail took up positions outside. The fleet CEO considered suggesting sarcastically if they wanted to take up the carpet to check for explosives but refrained on the grounds that they might actually take it seriously. The security team had become increasingly agitated as they neared the spaceport, mainly due to the increasing number of people on the walkways. They had become so cautious by the time they reached the building itself that the sergeant had insisted that Hydro enter the facility through the staff car park below street level. The draconian had to admit, the assassin who predicted that course of action and set a trap there would have to really have too much time on their hands. The fleet CEO had barely had time to seat himself at one end of the table that occupied the centre of the room when another person entered and the draconian was obliged to stand once more and greet the newcomer with a friendly handshake. “Hydro, it’s been too long.” “It has indeed, Damien.” Hydro had found the application file of his former squad mate, Damien ‘Harbringer’ Matthews contained within the pile of documents handed to him by the spaceport staff. The former squad commander had believed his friend to have been killed at the fall of Helios where his carrier, the DUCS Kraken had been shot down. Apparently, however, Harbringer had been dropped with the first wave of infantry before the ship had been hit and had managed to evade elven capture until the system was reclaimed by the DUC two months later. Since then he had been working as a navigator for a commercial shipping company, or so the file said at least. Hydro hadn’t bothered to interview any other applicants for the position on the Chimera, in his mind he was already decided. He knew that Damien was a good man, able to keep his head in a crisis, fast to act and willing to put his life on the line for his companions. “So, how’s the galaxy been treating you?” Hydro asked, seating himself once more and leaning backwards in a casual manner. Damien, a grey draconian 128 years of age and of muscular build, seated himself along the side of the long table and thought about the question for a moment. “Not too bad I s’pose.” “How’s civilian life been for you?” Damien chuckled and shook his head, “Sucks.” he answered simply, “Boring, monotonous, not a fate I’d even wish on my ex-wife’s boyfriend.” Hydro laughed in response to the statement, “Sounds like you’ve been busy since we last met.” Damien chuckled for a moment longer, then abruptly asked. “So what about you? You’re still going by that fleet call sign all the time if the media is to be believed, never understood why that was.” “I’d prefer it if it stayed that way.” Hydro replied, the humour in his tone becoming distinctly forced. “But why ‘Hydro’ anyway? Did you pick it before or after you ran into that elven commander with the callsign ‘Flameweaver?’ Binary opposition?” “Didn’t have anything to do with it.” Hydro answered firmly, “It seemed like a good idea at the time.” “I bet it didn’t the day afterwards when everyone was laughing at you.” “And then I got promoted and they stopped.” A smug grin was plastered across the fleet CEO’s face. “And now they call you, what, ‘Conqueror of a Hundred Suns’ isn’t it? Until I heard that I thought that calling yourself ‘Hydro’ was pretentious.” “Something like that, I haven’t really been keeping track.” The draconian sat up straight and decided that he may as well at least make an effort to pretend this was meant to be an interview as opposed to a chance to catch up and talk about old times. “So, you’re coming back to the fleet because you’re bored, is that pretty much the size of it?” “Y’know how it is, Hydro,” Damien answered, “after you’ve spent a few years being shot at every day you start to miss the noise and the action and shit. But yeah, that’s it in a nutshell. Once a soldier, always a soldier.” Hydro nodded in a noncommittal fashion. “You do realise that if we do our job properly this war should be over at some point, what will you do then?” Damien answered with a harsh laugh, “Not likely. This war was raging before either of us were born and it’ll be going on long after we’re dust.” The fleet CEO tapped his claw against the tabletop thoughtfully, “Possibly so, but I’d prefer to think I’ll live to see the end of it.” Damien shrugged, “We all gotta have dreams I guess.” He answered evenly. “My point is that I don’t know whether I’d be doing you a favour by bringing you back in the military.” Hydro pressed, leaning forwards slightly. Harbringer considered him for a moment, then burst out laughing. “Don’t give me that, you’ve already decided to give me the job and we both know it.” Hydro grimaced and shrugged, “You’ve got me there, I have to admit.” He flicked through the smaller pile of folders on the table and took the one second from the top. “Now perhaps you can give me a hand interviewing these applicants to be the Chimera’s new helm commander, they’ll be someone you have to work closely with so its best if you have some say in their appointment.” At the fleet CEO’s indication Damien moved his chair around until he was seated at the end of the table on Hydro’s left. The next person to enter the room was a young blue draconian, probably only about 25, a fighter pilot in one of the wings based on the DUCS Talos, a new supercarrier that had only been in one campaign so far but the pilot had an extensive records prior to that allocation. He said that he had recently passed his capitol ship pilot’s exam and had applied for the position because he thought he had the skills necessary and that it was the next logical step in his career. He also confessed that he had had a bit of an argument with the Talos’ tactical officer and thought that his chance for a promotion while he served aboard the vessel were slim if not non-existent. Hydro complimented the pilot for his honesty and was about to tell him that his application was still under consideration and he would get back to him later when Damien chipped in, asking the man if he had ever piloted a bomber. Both Hydro and the candidate were curious to know where this line of inquiry was going but when the pilot answered in the negative, Damien stated that that meant he had never had a rear gunner to worry about, or indeed anyone else whose life depended on his skill. In light of that, the man who had been navigations officer of the Chimera for all of five minutes asked the pilot if he was ready to take responsibility for the lives of over a hundred people who served aboard the Chimera. The moment of hesitation was all he needed to deduce that the candidate was inappropriate, quite rightly in Hydro’s opinion. “Good call.” He commented once the man was out of the room. “He didn’t have the confidence.” Damien answered, glancing at the next file, “It was written all over him. What do we know about the next one?” “Former street racer brought into custody by the police earlier today,” Hydro answered, “chose military service over a prison sentence, I figured it couldn’t hurt to at least give her a chance.” Damien raised an eyebrow, “No previous military experience and hasn’t taken a pilot’s exam? This is the crew for your flagship we’re talking about mate. Assign her to a fighter wing or something.” “I’m not sure, I just had a feeling about this one.” “Is that a feeling in your head or-?” Damien didn’t finish the sentence, cut short by Hydro’s glare. The woman who was escorted into the room by a pair of armed police stood just over six feet tall, her scales a deep shade of crimson with natural black pigmentation around her shoulders. She was wearing a tight fitting sleeveless shirt and jeans that did nothing to hide her lithe figure. It was her eyes that ruined the otherwise alluring image, if looks could kill then Hydro and Damien would already be at their respective funerals. Hydro wasn’t intimidated even for a moment, after having almost been blown to pieces, someone glaring at him wasn’t that scary. The first thing he noticed was that the woman’s hands were bound behind her. “That won’t be necessary.” He informed the policemen, gesturing to the energy binders. “Sir, she incapacitated four of our officers before being apprehended.” One of the officers protested. “There’s no point me having anyone in my crew who I can’t trust,” Hydro answered coldly, “now, if you’d be so kind…” The man flicked a button on a remote and the energy linking the two binders vanished. Much to the relief of everyone present there was no immediate display of violence although how much that was due to how the fleet CEO’s security team immediately shouldered their rifles was unclear. “Please, be seated.” Hydro gestured to the chair opposite. The draconian didn’t move. “Who are you?” she demanded. Hydro smiled thinly, “I guess you don’t watch a lot of news do you?” “He’s Hydro, CEO of the DUC battle fleet.” Damien answered for him. “And if he’s not an arrogant, pig headed twat he can answer for himself.” The woman shot back. There was a tense moment of silence before Hydro chipped in “Just Hydro will be fine, although you can call me an arrogant, pig headed twat if you really want to. Just for the sake of procedure can you verify your name for us?” The woman sat down. “Why? It’s on your file.” Hydro was left wondering why this street racer was even in the room, she didn’t seem to be making any effort to make this interview work out. She was being unnecessarily confrontational and argumentative. “Yes, it says here that you are Elennia Marle, 27 years of age, born on Ephesus, third moon of Alanar prime, but that’s just facts. What name do you go by when you race? What name do you want people to know you by?” The draconian saw a glint of defiance in the eyes of the woman seated opposite, then she lowered her gaze and answered. “Blaze.” “I’ve heard of you.” Damien interrupted, “Word on the street is that you’re one of the best. How did you get caught?” “Does it matter?” Blaze demanded, “I’m here now.” Hydro was thoughtful for a moment while he considered his next question. “Why do you want this job?” he asked at last “Why choose military at all for that matter? I know that street racers have a way of buying themselves out of legal trouble.” For a moment there was silence once more, something unreadable in Elennia’s eye. If he had to hazard a guess Hydro would have said a blend of frustration and regret, but he couldn’t be sure. “Not this time.” She answered at last, clearly choosing her words carefully. “I didn’t want this job, they just forwarded the application to the first vacancy.” Silence yet again while Hydro looked, disappointedly, first at Blaze and then at Harbringer. “I see no reason to waste any more of your time then.” After Blaze had been escorted from the room Damien turned to Hydro, “My sources don’t lie. She is a very good pilot.” “Doesn’t make any difference.” Hydro answered simply, “If she doesn’t want the job she’s no good to me.” It took fifteen minutes to sort through each of the remaining candidates and at the end of it neither Hydro nor Damien was any the wiser on who to recruit or promote. None of the applicants had managed to stand out in the perception of either draconian. Out of despair, Damien suggested flipping a coin and Hydro, frustrated already by the lack of progress, snapped at him that it was no way to make such an important decision. Following a charged silence the fleet CEO apologised for his short temper and suggested that both of them go and get some coffee before continuing. Letting himself out of the spaceport through the car park once more, Hydro’s gaze fell upon a flame red vehicle with silver and gold vinyl. Up close it really looked quite impressive with a plasma glass engine cover and red neon lighting around the custom jet cones. Abruptly, the draconian heard the sounds of running feet and cries of alarm from the staff stairwell. A grin split across his face as he made a snap decision that he would later have trouble justifying even to himself. Blaze couldn’t believe her luck, a few moments ago she had thought that her life was over and now she had an opportunity to take it all back. When she had chosen military service over a prison sentence she had assumed that since she had no previous experience with a firearm they would give her something a bit further back from the front line, working on the supply lines for instance. How naïve she’d been. The only reason they hadn’t stuck her on the first infantry transport to the war zone was that the fleet CEO was looking for a new pilot. Blaze still couldn’t say exactly why she hadn’t leapt at the opportunity; ultimately she was far less likely to die on a capitol ship than fighting elves on foot. While she’d been in the room she hadn’t seen the opportunity for what it was and trying to get the job just seemed to her like resigning herself to her fate: something she was unwilling to do. None the less, it had all worked out for the best, after the interview her guards had forgotten to reactivate the energy binders and she had been able to give them the slip. Blaze was now nearing the stairwell that led to the car park where her impounded vehicle was being stored. ‘Please, oh please let it be there.’ she whispered, forcing open the door with her shoulder and pausing only a second to check the width of the gap down the middle of the stairs before leaping over the handrail. Spreading her wings at the last moment, Blaze managed to escape what should have been a bone shattering fall with only a twisted ankle, and reached for the door to the car park. The sounds of pursuit were not far behind her, but the street racer breathed a sigh of relief as her eye fell upon the silver, red and gold motor that was as much a part of her as her tail, and she was of no doubt over which she’d rather lose. She had barely climbed into the driver’s seat when she heard a faint buzzing from the loops of metal circling her wrists and they abruptly snapped together with irresistible force. Cursing under her breath, Blaze settled for placing her right hand on the top of the steering wheel and reaching for the gear stick with her tail. Firing up the ignition with the touch pad in the centre of the wheel, she lifted the vehicle from the parking space and accelerated towards the tube that led out of the building. The speed limits said 45 kilometres per hour for the exit tube, but Blaze took it at 90, it was 3 meters in radius and her vehicle was only 2 meters wide, easy. Taking an abrupt left turn at the end of the tunnel, Blaze considered her options. Heading back to her safe house was out of the question, he knew where they all were and would’ve told the cops. She’d have to ditch the car, and sooner rather than later, though it pained her to do it, it would almost certainly have a tracer on it and she could easily buy another once she got back in touch with her sponsors. But for now she needed somewhere to lie low. Another left turn, a shift to a lower lane where she would be more difficult to spot, and then a right turn brought her to an emergency landing bay where she set the car down and paused to think on what to do next. She had a few friends who would be willing to give her a place to stay for a while provided she didn’t lead the cops straight to their door, which meant ditching the car some distance away. Frustrated, Blaze glanced at the binders on her wrists; she couldn’t fly wearing them because she couldn’t move her shoulders freely. To make matters worse, she realised suddenly, they could probably trace her with the remote signal, if she didn’t find a way to get them off then she’d never be able to escape. The street racer was no expert with electronics but she thought a high voltage shock might overload them, just so long as she didn’t fry her hands in the process. Blaze’s thoughts were brought to a sharp conclusion by the sound of sirens overhead. The police were sweeping the area, which meant it was time to go. Lifting off the ground once more, Blaze flew behind a large office building and began climbing straight up, much to the irritation of several commuters who she flew directly in front of. Dodging around a hover train pulling out of its station, she would probably have managed to slip away unnoticed were it not for the cop car sitting in the station parking bay. Abruptly the vehicle’s sirens flared into life and two more ascended from the lower lands even as the first pulled out of the parking bay. ‘It’s going to be one of those days then is it?’ Blaze sighed inwardly. Rolling through 180 degrees, Blaze inverted her car and dived, weaving between the different lanes of traffic with stunning control and precision. The police were following, she could see them in her wing mirror, but at a slower pace. Missing the fuselage of a large coolant fluid tanker by millimetres, Blaze pulled up and rolled sideways to fit between a pair of housing blocks, the gap meant only for use as a pedestrian walkway, not for hover-cars. For a moment it seemed like the police were going to try to follow, then they pulled away and shot upwards, trying to go over the building. Blaze responded by angling downwards, still between the two buildings, and emerging at a level much lower than the police had expected. One of them turned away, the driver thinking she must have doubled back, and so when Blaze darted for the jetlane opposite only two were ready to give chase. Blaze was forced backwards against her seat as the jetlane took hold of the vehicle, accelerating it almost at once to several thousand kilometres per second. The police were probably only a few seconds behind her, but those seconds now translated to about 100km, meaning that it would be almost impossible for them to see where she left the jetlane. Guessing she had been travelling long enough, Blaze dived out of the jetlane and ducked between two buildings. The idea of someone seeing her car while travelling at 2000kmps was ludicrous, but a targeting computer just might be able to do it. She’d forgotten about the tracer however, for only a few moments later the two vehicles dropped out of the jetlane at the same point. Cursing once more, Blaze shifted up a gear, pushing her car to its limits. Taking a corner so tight that sparks flew from the nearside door as it scraped against the spidersteel building framework, the street racer angled her vehicle upwards, flying straight towards the sun, above the city rooftops, then cut her engine, going into freefall straight between the police cars which hastened to turn and give chase but it was already too late. Only a few seconds away from impact with one of the bridges that linked the buildings below, Blaze fired up the engine once more and pulled out of her hectic dive, racing at top speed towards the entrance tunnel of a shopping mall car park. She had been in this part of the city before, she knew the car park had another exit if there were already police waiting for her. Blaze breathed a sigh of relief, stopping the car in a space on the third floor of the car park. She knew there was no time to relax now, however, she had to get the energy binders off and get as far from the vehicle as she could before the whole area was closed off. Opening the door awkwardly given that she couldn’t move her hands more than ten centimetres from each other, Blaze opened up the car’s engine, meaning to use the battery to short out the binders. “Let me give you a hand with those.” Blaze almost jumped out of her skin at the voice which had come from directly behind her, but when she turned to see who it was, barely noticing that she was able to move her hands once more, her shock only increased. “I hope you don’t mind that I hitched a ride.” The draconian continued, the blaster pointed at her made all the more unnerving by the polite tone with which the wielder spoke. Apparently only just recognising the discomfort Blaze felt at being held at gunpoint, her captor shrugged and returned it to his belt, a standard military issue utility belt that he wore over his robes of rank. “Sorry about that, just hoped it would help you understand your situation before you did anything stupid. You got the job by the way.” While Blaze was still trying to work out what to say to that, the draconian turned away from her, his skeletal wings flexing idly, and reached for his communicator. “Hydro here, lock onto my tracer, I need a pickup for two.” “So what happened to ‘if she doesn’t want the job she’s no good to me’?” Harbringer asked of Hydro. Along with the rest of the crew they were back aboard the Fortis Draconis, looking down on the planet from the giant array of landing pads and observation decks. “I changed my mind when I saw her fly,” the fleet CEO replied, “she made Wayfarer look like an amateur fresh out of flight school.” In truth, the draconian was somewhat worried about Blaze, she hadn’t spoken since the incident at the car park and that was not a good sign. To their credit, the crew had made an admirable effort given their current circumstances to make her feel welcome when they were introduced. Sefie had been chattering at her non stop about topics ranging from previous campaigns to skin care products, none of it drew Blaze out of her silence. For the fifth time that morning Hydro wondered if he had made the right decision. He hadn’t forgotten what he had said to Harbringer the previous afternoon and he was still concerned that Blaze might not have the mental strength that being a DUC fleet officer required. The Chimera was resting on the landing where it had been left, the only external indication of the repair work being the slight shine that was present on the hull plating. ‘Good,’ Hydro thought inwardly, ‘nothing flashy. Let the enemy think it’s the same old Chimera.’ The draconian felt a surge of pride at the sight of his ship. Throughout over a hundred campaigns and twenty years she had never been shot down. Upgrades and repairs had been made but the ship underneath remained the same. They were greeted at the landing pad by one of the resident technicians aboard the Fortis Draconis who proceeded to lead them to one of the rooms behind the plethora of observation windows and waxed eloquent at considerable length and in obsequious detail about the upgrades that had been installed. Finally Hydro, who was leaning back in his chair, arms folded and looking generally bored glanced across at Sparkx, who was in contrast nodding enthusiastically at the end of every sentence, and stood up. “Sparkx, fill us in on what we need to know later.” He ordered and walked out of the room, soon followed by the others. Hydro was anxious to be back aboard his ship and wasted no time returning to the landing pad. As he paused for a moment to gaze once more upon the planet below, he heard a grim voice behind him. “You don’t want to touch that.” Turning, the fleet CEO saw Blaze standing by the spaceport coffee dispenser. The comment had been spoken by Razor, or so it seemed as he was the one standing closest. “Why not?” she asked, stirring the coffee with a plastic spoon that the dispenser had ejected into the cup. “You ever drunk battery acid before?” Razor asked with a ghost of a smile. “No.” Hydro could tell that Blaze’s reply was guarded, clearly wondering where this conversation was going and too suspicious of Razor to be amused by his wit. The chief engineer pointed to the cup in the former street racer’s hand. “Battery acid does less damage to your taste buds and is probably better for you.” He stated. Blaze considered him for a moment, “Is that the voice of experience speaking?” she asked coolly. “Possibly.” Razor answered with a cryptic grin. As the pair set off towards the ship, Hydro requested to speak with Razor and waited until Blaze was out of earshot. “How did you do that?” he asked, “She hasn’t spoken to anyone since we left the planet.” Razor shrugged, “Not trying to too hard.” he answered, “If someone’s gone and curled up in a shell the last thing they want is someone else cracking it open.” The bridge didn’t look much different to how it had done before, except the hand rails around the captain’s terminal had been replaced by a low barrier of smoothed plastic, supposedly something that would be more difficult for a certain captain to injure himself on by falling, though Hydro was sure he’d find a way entirely without meaning to. Closer inspection of the view screen also revealed that it was riddled with tiny spidersteel fibres. If it shattered then any pieces large enough to cause injury would remain stuck in the lattice. There was little point attempting to discern what else was different about the Chimera until Sparkx returned so Hydro made his way back to his terminal, noticing that the barrier was easier to vault over than the handrail had been, and was surprised to find a small flashing light informing him that he had a message from an unknown source. Immediately suspicious of some kind of elven virus made to disable the ship’s computers, Hydro exported the missive to an isolated computer which he could reformat later, then opened it. The draconian’s expression became pensive as he read the communiqué then, at length, he nodded. “Sefie, please inform command that in the interest of familiarising myself with the new capabilities of the ship and that of training my new officers the, Chimera will be out of action for five days. For that duration we will be operating on a skeleton crew and will avoid battles as far as possible.” “Yes captain.” Sefie answered, tapping some buttons on her console and then relaying Hydro’s message once the channel was open. When she was finished she turned away from the terminal. “Captain, why are we doing this now? I mean, you’ve never thought it necessary before.” “Because,” Hydro answered smoothly, “that is to keep fleet command from asking awkward questions.” He raised his voice to address the whole of the bridge crew as he continued. “My friends, some of you have not been aboard this ship long, others have been here for almost half a decade. You are my officers and I trust you all implicitly, that is why I share this information with you. We have been invited to a wedding.” He could see the confused expressions on the faces of his crew, wondering why he was making such a big deal over this, so he allows the suspense to continue a moment longer before speaking the word that he knew would strew chaos: “Lucien’s.” Edited by Hydro14, 29 Aug 2009, 21:25.
	My loyalty is a double edged blade: I will stand by you while what you do is right and just, but I will never support you when doing so would force me to betray what I believe.


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