GuNNhead

The feast aboard the Prophet’s mothership that night outshines the first night’s grandeur and extravagancy aboard the Orbiter by magnitudes, albeit with a lightly hushed tone to the proceedings. The crew distrust me, some outright hate me, as I cannot eat the food that they partake of. There’s something about it that my suit rejects. The final morning before the battle, all the sensors, the weapon systems, and the ships are checked and double-checked, it is found that everything is in working order.

The trouble is right on time, and very existent, The Prophets of the Last Eclipse’s goals have only one blatant hindrance left: a nigh-impenetrable wall of an enemy armada. These are not beings who simply do not believe in the values of Prophets of the Last Eclipse, nor are they a nearby planet’s defenses. No, the armada that stands strong, poised, ready to attack and destroy, they vehemently oppose the goal of the Prophets, they seek to bring destruction to the entire galaxy, in one, final eclipse of every sun, of every star; they seek to bring Nothingness to existence.

The soldiers ceremoniously prepare, and get into their individual fighter ships as they approach their destination. Once in range, the sirens start going off. The voice over the intercom appears.
“All soldiers are to begin deployment. Good Luck.”
Axivognt and I walk down the halls of docking ports where their fleet is taking off.
“This is only one battle in a long path. They don’t want us to have the artifact of this galaxy, and if we cannot retain it, those who seek to end all will see every last one of us destroyed. But we will overcome, have no fear, our souls are full, and all of our men have been training for this moment their entire lives, we will emerge triumphantly.” With that, Axivognt shows me to my ship, and as I get in, Axivognt goes to his own. He gives the signal, and the bay doors of the mothership open, sending out thousands of small fighter craft in tight formations.

My ship is one of the last to leave the docking bay, exiting to laser blasts fly all around, into a huge outer-space dogfight of immense proportions. With the clusters of ships tailing each other all around the same area, the stray blasts may hit unintended targets, so one’s ships computers must be maintained in calculations of random spacial velocity matrix calibrations, or one might risk friendly fire. It is easier to communicate this friendly fire risk than it is stray enemy fire, which is is how Axivognt’s ship was taken out of commission, stray enemy fire to the wing; he had to return to the mother ship.

Both sides continue to lose many members, though the Prophets were outnumbered two-to-one at the outset, and the numbers are now even. The head pilot of the other side’s forces is on my tail, firing blast after blast, missing by only a few meters each time. Getting closer with every shot, eagerly anticipating the chance to be locked on perfectly. Enemy and friendly ships explode around us, some getting damaged and returning to the ship, others, being completely reduced to shrapnel.
“You’re the best pilot I’ve ever encountered,” says the enemy ship following me, “My name is Starlition, I wanted you to know the name of the man who destroyed you!” He achieves his target lock and fires, a sure fire blast of destruction straight to my ship. I send my ship straight downward, defying momentum, avoiding the blast, and eject myself into the cold depths of space. Starlition is stunned, and, using this moment, I flip backwards, turning to face him.

[Activate: Gravity Sphere]
Charging with a single hand, I fire, destroying his thrusters and sending him off into space.
“I’ll get you for thiiis!” he shouts as his ship hurtles out of control into the blackness.

The Prophets think the battle is won as the enemy forces retreat in full without their captain, but a massive ship, larger than the Prophet’s planetary mother ship, removes its cloaking field. It has a daunting, commanding presence, with a large, flat front, a small window at the top from command, and a narrowing back. The Prophets immediately light up communication channels to devise an attack plan. I command my ship back to me, and stand atop it.

[Activate: Quantum Destroyer]
Taking aim at the giant ship, I place my hands together to charge the blast, and fire with all of the power at my command, and obliterate it.

Once back inside the Orbiter, there is much rejoicing, and preparations to continue their long search across galaxies for the artifacts to save the universe. I want no part of it. In the celebrations, I tell Axivognt that I must leave. He understands the nee to forge one’s own path, but not my need for death, for violence: This requirement, the compulsion to remove the life from the living. I scour the Network’s databases, but Kænus appears to be as Axivognt described, affluent, philanthropic, and weak. However, I know of immediate revenge that will provide me with what I require: destroying Celrdrrun. I am able to trace his probable location to a sun-planet called Thértuu.

This entry was posted on January 13, 2010 at 3:33 am and is filed under Exploration: Cosmos, Fiction, Gravity Surge, Sci-Fi. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.