Forums » Sci-Fi Roleplay » SciFi RPG: Interstellar Wayfarers (CLOSED)

The Death Korps were okay. Hell, they were more than okay. They were thriving. While the other soldiers had to increase their shields, the Death Korps kept the shields as they were, and activated their boots. They had their masks and pressurized suits to keep them safe. Now they had a choice. Get shot up by the fighters, or get shot up by the men. They looked at each other, and nodded.

Jumping into the air, their magnetic boots disengaging, and the force of the vacuum pulling them out towards space, they flew, feet first, straight for the fighters. That's when they open fired. The 40mm gunmen looked up, and opened up with a barrage of shells straight for the cockpits, while the men hit the shields, fired, and bounced off, landing on the ground again, flipping over, and firing a few shots at the enemy foot soldiers.

The Lieutenant, meanwhile, fired the AA12 at the hanger bay door controls, hoping that it would shut down. He didn't know how long they had before the fighters destroyed them. Already, two died from shellfire.

Robbins saw him coming, and emptied the rest of the clips into him, dropping the gun after it was empty, and punching him. But he had a surprise. He wore steel knuckles, and on his wrist, he wore a thick, titanium blade. The blade was out, now, and he was going to kill this man for the genocide he committed.

Robbins fell, though, with a deep, deep gash in his chest, arm, and stomach. Nothing he couldn't survive from, but still... Painful. Very painful. He screamed out in pain, watching the blood fall from him. But the vest saved him from the deadliest damage. He'd be okay, but he needed help. And soon. His training kicked in, and he kicked the man with both feet, again and again.

****

"Cigol, if you strike me down now, you will avenge your family, and ease my suffering. I am giving this opportunity to you, soldier to another. For there comes a time when a man becomes tired of the pain he caused, the lives he took, and the men he condemned," Ascrith said, holding his sword out to block the next attack.

He heard the Captain shout out the orders, and listened to this man. He knew that it would be devastating if he killed him. He also knew that he wanted to die, too. So, in a way, both of them would go down in honor. One after another.

Braesk followed the lift, and got to the bridge. He was so confused. What was going on.

"Captain, are you okay?"

"Cigol, if you strike me down now, you will avenge your family, and ease my suffering. I am giving this opportunity to you, soldier to another. For there comes a time when a man becomes tired of the pain he caused, the lives he took, and the men he condemned."

Cigol struck out with an underneath attack and looked at Ascrith in his eyes.

"That is an issue that you must deal with. I am not here to bring you swift vengeance nor even give you such benefit. I am already dying. And I don't have much time to complete, my last mission."

Cigol blocked a blow, and countered.

"In that case Field Marshall, you will cease holding back and assault me with everything you have."

* * *

Captain Nikoli whipped around to Captain Braesk and coughed.

"Yes I am fine god dammit!"

He began to cough again, obviously not fine. He feel to his knees and began to convulse.

"MEDICAL EMERGENCY!" Dr. Lucas Rodden called out, as he scattered over to the Captain.

Lt. Nai'ti joined nearby both to help the Doctor and as a precaution with Braesk on the command deck.

"Dammit, the nanities are sending his body into some type of shock. Something has them going haywire," Dr. Lucas Rodden exclaimed as he turned Nikoli on to his side. "Lieutenant, get me the Psyconel from the storage pouch on the right, and the Dopamethyl at the bottom!"

Lieutenant Nai'ti did as she was told, trying not to fumble with the drugs. Everyone stood in shock, that once again the Captain was facing death.

* * *

Cigol got an alert on his arm device and he glanced it.

I seem to be serverly lacking in time. Both I and the Captain...

"So be it! En Guarde!" Ascrith said, blocking the attack and making a thrust with his sword. He had no idea what the Commander wanted. Perhaps he wanted a way out. Whatever it was, Ascrith was going to provide that. Too late had he been branded the villain, by more than one empire. Well, now, if he was going to be the villain, he would fight the good guy.

****

"Med bay! I repeat, Med Bay, we have a problem here!" Braesk shouted into his comms. All he heard was that there was some sort of nanotechnology that was trying to help the Captain survive. Unfortunately, it was also slowly killing him. They had a choice. Leave the nanites in, and let the captain die, or fix that problem. And Braesk just might have an answer to that.

The Colonel got on one knee, close to the Captain. He was looking. Looking for something. Something that would perhaps explain why the Nanites acted so weird, or what nationality they were from. He hoped to god it wasn't the nanites they gave to the wounded. If it was, there was going to be some problems.

"Look, I have something that might help. I have a med flask full of Marine Nanites. But they were designed for our Marines. They probably will help repair him, but there will be some... Interesting side effects,"

"Look, I have something that might help. I have a med flask full of Marine Nanites. But they were designed for our Marines. They probably will help repair him, but there will be some... Interesting side effects."

"If I got one batch of alien nanites going crazy, what in the hell makes you think I'll let him take in another batch!?" Dr. Lucas Rodden yelled in frustration, as he tried to keep the Captain alive.

"Doctor, he's only trying to help," Lieutenant Nai'ti said softly.

"Well if you want to help so god damn much, help me get him to the Infirmary," the Doctor said, as he began to pack up the medical kit. "We don't have time to wait."

Dr. Lucas Rodden looked at Braesk, with the sternness and anger of an old ox. "And if it comes down to it...I'll prep him for those nanites Captain."

* * *

Dr. Micheal Stratos, was frantic. He didn't know what was going on with the Captain's nanites and he was suppose to be the leading authority on xenology. He scanned the multiple screens of data, inputting variables, bringing up logs of their encounters with the Ursans and their technology, but still couldn't find anything. In a fit of frustration, he slammed his fists into the console's keyboard before slumping into his chair, tears starting to streak down his eyes.

"I...I just can't do it...I have failed..."

Liala suddenly popped into existence on one of the screens, hands on her hips.

"Get off your ass Doctor, and figure something out!"

Dr. Stratos shook his head, "I can't. There's nothing in there that can help."

Liala pursed her lips, "What about the psychokinetic thing?"

"I can not make any connection," Stratos admitted in defeat. "There's some suggested lines of it being a factor, but I don't have any proof or evidence."

"If only we had G'Char, or even the Commander back here..." Liala said to no one in particular.

The moment after she said that, there was a beep and suddenly the screens began to distort. Dr. Stratos looked on in horror.

"Liala!"

"Wait...sor...sorry...Doc...Doc...seems...like another....su- su- surprise," the Navigator said in a distorted voice before, blinking out, then reappearing.

"Another surprise from the Commander," she said, brushing her virtual uniform. "On you terminal should be a new data packet left by the Commander. I think you may find your answer Doctor."

Dr. Michael Stratos, opened up the data packet and former Commander Cigol appeared.

"Hello Dr. Stratos," said Cigol in that usually non-motive, almost careless attitude. "A few hours ago, I am sure you are aware, the Captain was severely injured and his Ursan nanites, ceasing to operate within their normal functions."

A new screen popped up, with information on the nanites that the Doctor had never seen before.

"In this data packet are some classified information on the nanites, gathered by C.A.I.N, but mostly theories and postulations from myself."

A new screen appeared and Dr. Stratos immediately snatched up a datapad to begin taking notes.

"Your hypothesis of the nanites being affected by some unknown psychokinetic energy, seems to be the best probable culprit, in our current situation. Upon gathering reports from those who were on the Time Dancer, including yourself, I believe I know why."

Another screen, this time video captured from a marine appeared. The unknown combatant, watched as Field Marshall Ascrith Taranis, slammed Captain Nikoli across the deck and the marine began to immediately attack the hostiles.

Then it clicked, and Stratos' eyes widen.

"If you will notice in the Heads Up Display of the marine Doctor," Cigol spoke as the video continued. "There was a spike in radiation. Not enough to harm anyone, but enough to be noticeable, if searched carefully. This is similar to the information we obtained with G'Char who too displayed psychokinetic abilities."

The video ended and Dr. Stratos raced out of his office, toward the medbay to notify the Doctor what was happening. In his hurry he failed to realize there was more to the video. However, Navigator Liala was still present and watched on.

"I should be currently embarked on one final mission, before I must enact C.A.I.N protocols. I have taken with me, a moderate amount of our left over Ursan nanite enzymes, in which I hope to use to disrupt the cause of the psychokinetic interference momentarily and allow the Captain to begin the healing process. Please do not try and stop me Doctor, for I have already taken the necessary precautions to ensure that you do not. It was a pleasure to work with you, once more Doctor Michael Stratos. End recording."

The video ended, and Liala sat watching the paused screen of Commander Cigol, his face blank, but his eyes telling all.

He didn't abandon them. It wasn't just about his family on Calypso. But his family here on Valhalla.

And in the end, even on his death bed, he was going to make sure they were alright.

* * *

"So be it! En Guarde!"

Cigol aimed his sword down, and gave an upward swoop to block the sword, whilst doing a dodging twirl to the left. He could feel the increase in psychokinetic pressure from Field Marshall Taranis, and knew that this time the game was really afoot.

There was another alert from the arm device, and Cigol once again quickly glanced at it.

Ah, so the Doctor has received the data.

With that confirmation, he knew the end was drawing near and with that resolve, he broke forward toward Ascrith.

Cigol let loose himself, this time commencing with a barrage of lightening fast attacks. Tapping away at Ascrith sword, probing this way and that, estimating his endurance and stamina. He could only do so much analyzing with time slowly counting down, but he had to be certain, had to be sure, to make each strike against the man's body count.

"Your swordsmanship is quite exceptional. I am quite surprised, I have held this long...disbarring you holding back," Cigol noted aloud casually.

"Protocl Vitralis isn't working commander!" The Terelain corporal shouted into his comm, "They've got pressure uits and mag-boots. Put the atmo-shield back up, before you kill us all for no damned reason!"

"Acknowledged, corporal. Activating atmospheric shields. Kahr to fighters, atmo-shields engaging now, continue fire on enemy combatants." The tactical officer said.

"Copy that, commander." Was the reply from the squadron leader leading the fighters attacking the Death Korps men, of which several had now arrived inside the hangar bay.

The shields on the fighters had largely held under the hail of bullets from the Death Korps men that had come flying at them, as they had been designed to handle attacks from more powerful weapons than most anti-personnel guns. Nevertheless, the cockpit of one fighter shattered and the pilot inside was riddled with bullets. The fighter itself span out of control as the atmospheric shield suddenly re-appeared and the artificial gravity suddenly normalised. Luckily for everyone still alive in the hangar bay, it struck the floor right below it and burst into flames without rupturing the hull.

The Terelain marines were still firing at the Death Korps men, three more had fallen to their enemies, but they were holding their ground. Each one willing to die before they ceded a single inch of this ship to the genetically-enhanced humans.

The blast fired by the Death Korps man at the hangar bay door controls blasted them apart, but the doors didn't close. Instead, the destruction of the controls locked the doors open and sent a signal to the ship's AI, Aelya, who would seal the door in an instant. It reached one of her subroutines, which determined the situation using cameras in place around the hangar bay as well as diagnostics on the controls. It decided not to seal the doors, since it was obviously an attempt by hostiles to prevent friendly reinforcements from engaging them.

Reinforcements for the Terelain defenders started arriving from other areas of the ship as the Honour Guard marines responded with precision born of centuries of training to seal off access to the rest of the ship.

The fight in the Hand's bridge was starting to get brutal. Robbins' first few shots were blocked by Elder Nathaniel Tynian's personal shield, but eventually the sheer number of bullets impacting the shields allowed some to get though, mostly impacting his shoulders and chest. Bleeding from numerous bullet-wounds, he still didn't stop attacking Robbins with his claws, unleashing vicious blow after blow against the human.

The Elder was also a Master of Tae Kil Raan like his wife, perhaps even more so, and he was deep within the Alir meditative state where pain, anger, fear and other emotions and sensations simply slid off of the surface of his mind. He was entirely ignoring his wounds, therefore, in his attempts at disabling, or perhaps even killing Robbins.

Terelains also possessed medical nanites, and it had been common practice for thousands of years that every citizen was to have them injected into their bloodstream. These microscopic self-replicating machines acted to bolster and self-correct their immune systems and help to heal wounds. The nanites in the blood of the two wounded Elders were working overtime trying to stop the bleeding from the bullet wounds and prevent shock. Nontheless depending on the severity of the bullet wounds and what Robbins had actually hit, one or both of them might die anyway without medical treatment soon.

That's when Jacob knew he was in trouble. Bleeding profusely, out of bullets, and only using close combat weapons, he was running out of options. The Death Korps soldiers were not doing so well, or so he thought. But he knew that if he got out of this alive, he'd be considered a great hero. An amazing hero. He just wished he had his normal weaponry. But he did have something. Something good.

He pulled, out of his pant leg, a large knife the size of his forearm, the point curved, and looking like a big bowie knife. He sliced at the hands, trying to cut them off. Maybe he'd die there, maybe he'd live. In any way, he'd be famously known as the commander of the only humans who could kill these people in close combat.

The Death Korps men fought bravely, and decided to charge forward. The 40mm Anti Fighter cannons from the bay doors of the gunships opened up on the ships, trying to destroy them. The soldiers charged, bayonets out, swords at the ready, and guns a blazing.

****

"Okay. But I think the captain will need this. It was designed for enhanced men, and if he doesn't have those enhancements, it'll build them into him." Braesk said, and watched with concern. He may fight dirty, but he never liked seeing war up close.

Ascrith blocked, but missed, and the sword cut his stomach. Blood began to flow, but he didn't care. He threw himself at him again, and again, trying to kill him, and kill himself. He knew that they both would die.

"I... Am... not... trying hard..."

Dr. Lucas Rodden motioned for one of the medical attendees to take the flask and place it on one of the medical scanners as he tended to Captain Nikoli.

"Liala, are you there?"

Navigator Liala blinked into existence on the large medical display. "Of course I am Doctor."

"Thorough analysis of the flask," he said as he rushed to prep the Captain for surgery. "I need to know if you can access their programming insert a contingency, just in case they fail."

Liala nodded and a stream of information began to cover the medical screen. "Just as he said, they do seem to be medical nanites. Heavily modified though. Reading additional levels of coding. Some of it I can read."

"Yes yes," Dr. Rodden said, as he put on his mask and gloves. "That's expected, but can you get the OUT once they are done? And where the hell is Stratos?"

As if on cue, there was mass of commotion coming from outside the private ward, and Dr. Stratos came bumbling in. He saw Captain Braesk, eyes widen and looked to Dr. Rodden. He saw the body of the Captain and remembered why he came. He hurriedly rushed over to a medical terminal.

"It IS a psychokinetic disturbance," he said as he remotely accessed the same information he saw a few minutes earlier. "It happened when he came into contact with the Field Marshall."

"And just how the hell does that help us Michael? " the Doctor said as he helped to put Captain Nikoli on a gurney, headed toward the operation room.

"I..." Dr. Michael Stratos, trailed off realizing that was all he had.

Rodden came up to him and pat him on the shoulder, "You did all you could Michael..."

Dr. Stratos slumped his shoulders, and Liala gave an annoyed eye roll.

She accessed and played the rest of the video on the medical display. "This is exactly why you wait until the video is COMPLETELY finished..."

The Doctors looked on confused.

"But what does that mean though? Why take the rest of the Ursan nanites?" Dr. Rodden asked.

"Give Stratos a moment Doc."

Stratos stood there like a deer caught in headlights before it clicked. He turned to Dr. Lucas Rodden.

"He's going to try and infect the Field Marshall with the nanites! The Commander hopes that by getting the Ursan nanites into his body, they should effectively disrupt the Field Marshall's psychokinetic abilities," Dr. Stratos explained.

"But how is that possible? The nanites will have the same reaction, if not worst, if the Field Marshall has psionic abilities," the Doctor commented.

"Wait for it Doctor," Liala quipped.

"Well..." Stratos said in thought. "Well, the Commander said he took the one's with the enzymes. Meaning that the Ursan influence still resides in them and that it should suppress the Field Marshall's abilities, if only momentarily. And looking at the data, he's also modified the nanites to transmit a signal to those in the Captain, giving them the information they need to properly adapt."

"Doctor! The Captain is starting to flatline.!"

"God dammit! Liala, the flask!"

"They appear safe, and I have tried all I can with them," she responded.

Doctor Rodden, grabbed the flask and looked at Dr. Stratos. "That sounds all good in theory Michael. But unless Commander Cigol can initiate this plan of his in the next 30 minutes, the Captain is going to die. And I won't let that happen. Even if I have to give him another dose of alien technology."

With that the Doctor rushed out the ward toward the Operation Room, leaving Captain Braesk, Liala, and Dr. Stratos alone.

* * *

Cigol, quirked a brow at the comment, and failed to realize the counter blow that Ascrith sent his way. The pale and skinny former Commander, smashed to the ground, and continued along in a roll, before springing himself back up toward his opponent.

"It would appear so," he quipped, before charging in once again, forgoing much of the grace and finesse of his attacks.

He reached out with his left hand, grabbing Ascrith's neck and tried slamming his head into a nearby tool cart.

Both combatants were bruised, battered, and blooded. Cigol knew he had many bone broken, lost a few of his fingers, and was quite sure his left eye was gone. Judging from the way Ascrith looked, Cigol knew he probably gave him a bit of a run for his money. No matter, as long as his sword cut him, and his blood pumped faster, that's all that count.

But time...there never was enough time.

And so, Cigol charged forward again.

* * *

"My god...I have never seen Commander Cigol fight so...viciously..." Lieutenant Nai'ti said, as she sat in the command chair, unable to do much of anything else.

"I don't think I have either," spoke Communication's Officer Ty. "It's like watching a whole other person. Follox, probably wouldn't want to take him on."

"To which, any word from the Time Dancer or Hand?" asked Nai'ti.

"Negative on the Time Dancer, but the Hand is definitely in some sort of trouble," Ty noted. "Either way, I don't think it's our problem."

"It is Ty," Nai'ti sighed. "Get me their CO, and send them the live feed of this all channels, so everyone over there can see it. Maybe, it'll pause what ever the hell is going on. If need be, Liala can go over and see what's happening."

Ty nodded, and Nai'ti's eyes fell back onto the viewscreen, showing the duel between Commander Cigol and Field Marshal Taranis. It felt so wrong, to just sit there, helpless and unable to do anything. It was her job to make sure everyone of the ship was safe and secured.

Watching someone walk off to their own death, felt like a stab; felt like she failed her charges.

Braesk looked guilty. Very guilty. He had tears in his eyes as he heard the cries of the wounded, and he held his hand up to his face. They caused this. They did all this damage, and no one was going to stop him from winning a medal for this. No one would tell him to stop. But he wanted to. And when he wanted to apologize, no one would forgive him. It was just that lonely for him.

He looked up at everyone, and said something under his breath. He may not have done anything good, but if he could save the captain, maybe it was the only good thing that he could do. And if that was true, he was glad that he had the chance. And he'd be able to give the captain a good life after this.

"I'm sorry... And I know that nothing I can say will make me a better person. Nothing I can say will be enough for you. I can't bring back the dead, and I wish I could. I can't do all of that, but if it means saving the rest of your crew, I have a hidden medical bay for the Honor Guard on board the ship. It's old, sealed off, but it has more of these for the rest of the wounded, and I can make them disintegrate once they've done their job,"

****

Blood flew from his face as it slammed into the tools. He was hurting, and hurting badly, like Cigol. His face looked mutilated, but he wasn't done yet. He elbowed Cigol in the neck, and picked him up, throwing him across the room. But Ascrith was hurt badly. The side of his face was bashed in, all broken, like glass that has tape on it.

He walked up to Cigol, and grabbed his head, slamming it into the ground.

Dr. Stratos heard and shot him a furious look behind his cloudy glasses.

"Save it! Damn you military types! So brash and reckless one moment, then sullen and broken the next! Save it and feck you all to hell!"

Stratos was in an emotional rage. He picked up the tray full of tools and threw it somewhere toward Captain Braesk. He stormed out of the ward, somewhere, anywhere but there.

Navigator Liala said nothing as he watched Dr. Stratos leave. "Several years, and he still hasn't grown use to the nuances of the military."

Her eyes lingered toward Braesk. "He is right though. And no Captain, we won't require them. Even offered help, those men and women out there would refuse. They wouldn't accept such a gift, knowing the price they may have to pay. You should be all to aware of that Captain Braesk. And if not, go back out there and see the looks they will have in their eyes. The will to keep fighting, to survive...on THEIR terms. Put yourself in their shoes."

She was about to leave Braesk alone when something else entered her mind. "There is nothing else for you to do here, unless you wish to go and cry in the corner. Otherwise, take the lift to the command deck, there's something happening on the Hand involving your people and Ascrith seems badly wounded."

Liala blinked out of existence leaving the Captain alone with his choices.

* * *

It was quite the sensation. The deckplate hurt, it really hurt. Far more than he realized. Or maybe, his senses were just catching up with him. Either way, the pain was growing, and he knew his time was minutes away from being up.

Cigol, flipped his leg around and caught Ascrith in the crowbar, and leveraged himself as best he could to break his arm. He then released and let fly his heel into his face, knocking Ascrith away, before Cigol rose from the deck, supported by his sword.

There was a slight rhythmic beep from the arm device and Cigol glanced at it. He read it, and saw the notice that was given to him. His Central Nervous System was breaking down, by the cocktail of poisons injected into his body. Following that, his synaptic nerves would be systematically destroyed. Usually it was quite a peaceful suicide, when the proper poisons were put to work, putting the operative to sleep, just as everything was happening.

But of course, Cigol modified it and he wouldn't be given that pleasure. He'd feel the intense level of pain and it would all happen slowly. There was no stopping that.

With no options, Cigol took his sword and made a large gashes at his hands, blue blood oozing out and dripping to the floor. He threw the sword at Ascrith and with all his remaining strength, made a bulls charge for the Field Marshall.

Braesk dodged the tools, emotion leaving him a bit. He had to admit, though. They were right. There was nothing he could do to help. He walked out, ignoring Ascrith. They knew what would happen. Braesk just walked out of the med bay, and towards the wounded. He stood at the foot of the hall, looking at the people just sitting there. He took out a piece of paper, and scribbled out a note.

Then he pulled out a Walther.

****

Ascrith was hit in the chest by the sword, the blade piercing his organs and tissue, and imbedding itself in the ribs. He would die a slower death. But when the commander came for him, he swung with the full force of his arm, trying to decapitate the man.

By this time, Tolarim had managed to get close enough to tend to Elder Amaar's wounds, to at least help stop the bleeding. The doors of the bridge opened, allowing seven Honour Guard marines to enter, their personal shields fully raised, their pistols out. They couldn't shoot whilst Nathaniel and Robbins were so close, but they were poised to make their move at the slightest opening. One made his way to the fallen Elder, he took out an emergency medical kit and began tending to her, whilst Tolarim covered him.

Nathaniel ignore the reinforcements, it was as if they didn't register and when Robbins pulled the knife he pulled his hands back out of range of the blade and spoke for the first time since the fight began, "You are a hypocrite and a fool. You attack us because we committed genocide twelve millennia ago, against a race that was trying to drive us to extincton, and yet you destroyed an entire world for the sake of one ship mere hours ago. You attack us, one of the oldest and most advanced cilisations in the known galaxy, you harm the ones responsible for the salvation of the Terelain species and culture... and you expect to be remembered as a hero for all these deeds?" The Elder laughed, "You are an idiot. My people will come against your nation with the full might of the Grand Fleet. We have ships that would make your Battle Barge look like a kitten's toy. We have weapons that can scour clean all life from a world in an instant. We will utterly destroy your people's warmachine, and render your civilisation unable to even spit in the direction of another planet for the next thousand years! When we are done, your people will not see you as some great hero... but as a traitor... a man who placed his own pride and ambition before the well-being of his own people."

Nathaniel reached inside his clothes and pulled out an elegantly curved dagger, half the size of the human's knife, "So... come then, coward, traitor, let us see what your people can do. We are both wounded, we are both armed with knives. Show me how a species that was still wallowing in the mud when mine were ruling the stars, plans to defeat the Star Kingdom."

Suddenly the holographic displays of the bridge lit up with the video feed from the duel between Ascrith and Cigol, The mess the two combatants were in drew almost every eyes, except for the marines and the wounded Elder holding the knife, who were still watching Robbins.

"What are they?" Captain Tolarim began, "It... that almost looks like Yh'Tya. Are they trying to decide this battle through ritual combat?" He shook his head and ignored the video, "it doesn't matter. My concern is for this ship, her crew and the Elders." He turned to Robbins, "Captain Robbins of the HRA Death Korps. You are outnumbered, outgunned and your men are as well. Your attempts to murder our Elders and sieze this ship have failed... and it can be considered to be an act of war against my people, an act potentially so grievous that we will pursue Esae Vrkar, Eternal War, against your people. If either of our Elders die because of your actions I personally swear upon my Ancestors that I will have your head, and the heads of every single member of your family, down every generation until the end of days, and I will kill or destroy any man or nation that tries to stop me fulfilling my blood-feud with you." Tolarim's mouth twitched into a slight smile, "I can assure you that I will not be the only one who would swear such an oath in the Kingdom for the deaths of the Elders. The full might of the Houses Amaar and Tynian will fall upon you, and those of your people that harbour you."

Tolarim neither knew, or cared, that the video link had also set up a channel with the Valhalla and that they could hear everything going on in the bridge. Tolarim was on the verge of failing his most sacred duty; to protect the lives of the Elders above and beyond his own and the lives of his crew, and he was damned angry about it.

In the hangar bay the Terelain warriors were starting to get into their element. Their people had a long history of defensive action, for their homeland had been encircled by mountains and the only four routes through them were guarded by massive fortresses, so that even in antiquity the Terelain army had held to a doctrine of defense over offense.

Whilst modern weapons technologies like plasma weapons, bombs, fighters and personal shields had left many more options other than hand-to-hand combat for Terelain marines they still preserved even the most ancient forms of their martial arts, for who knows when a technique, no matter how ancient and seemingly obsolete, may one day save your life?

The marines continued to pour plasma and energy fire into the charging Death Korps, but once they got too close they dropped their pistols and went to work with knives and and the ceremonial spears to defend themselves against the humans.

The Fang Interceptors in the hangar switched targets from the Death Korps men, who had grown too close to their own infantry, to the gunships that had opened fire on them. The hangar wasn't large enough for any of the pilots to pull their fancier evasive maneouvres with the fast, nimble fighters, but they had rerouted almost all of their power reservesfrom their engines, sensors and other systems to their shields and weapons.

Two more Terelain fighters burst into flames and crashed onto the deck, but the rest continued to pour fire on their attackers, but with only three fighters destroyed so far, there were still another twenty seven remaining, as well as the fifteen Claw Multi-role Bombers.

Jacob stood alone in front the Elders, facing one down. He had his massive bowie knife out, ready to kill. This thing was going down, one way or another. Robbins stood there bleeding from nearly every cut he had, and there was a lot. But he wasn't going to stop. That was the thing about them. No matter what, the men of HRA would never stop fighting.

"You idiots. You underestimate will power. We are outnumbered now, but you try surviving us. We fight till the last man, we take no prisoners, and give none. You want to win? You will have to pay for ever damn inch of ground you take. If this is war, you will die in war! Lysander! NOW!" Robbins said. This was not going to be a very good day for the Elders.

The Bismarck's boarding torpedoes fired one by one, filled with Death Korps and Marines. They slammed with penetration power of a powerful cannon. They were designed so that the shields wouldn't be able to stop them, but armor would slow them down.

Fifty fighters stood outside the enemy bay doors, and aimed carefully. That's when they fired. 50mm rounds flying at high speeds were fired, anti shield EMP missiles shot off, and they wouldn't stop shooting. They wanted those fighters destroyed.

Liala watched several different events transpire on screens in her virtual hub. She saw Dr. Lucas Rodden hurry into the Operation Room and begin resuscitation. Calling out as he tried to revive the Captain.

She saw Captain Braesk walk out, a pistol in his hand. She knew what he was probably thinking and she wouldn't bat an eye if he did it. So she sat in a 20 second time delay to notify marines and security accordingly. She doubt he would harm the patients. And she doubt the patients would let harm come to them.

She saw the final death throws of Cigol and Ascrith, as their former Commander, pounced on the Field Marshall; his combatant's sword lodging into Cigol's neck and both men tumbling to the floor.

Lastly she saw, as the Bismarck launched torpedoes and fighters at the Hand of Terel.

And for each situation there was nothing she could do, except sit and watch.

* * *

"His blood flow is decreasing! Blood pressure failing below normal levels!"

"Get that internal hemorrhaging stabilized!"

"We're loosing his synaptic functions! The brain is beginning to starve!"

"Start up the if support unit! Prep those damn nanites!"

Blood splatter, filled the immediate workspace of Doctor Lucas Rodden and his medical attendants. He was trying his damnedest to keep the Captain alive, but those fecking Ursan nanites, just wouldn't cooperate. He was loosing this battle, and slowly running out of options.

Dr. Rodden looked over at the flask on the medical cart, and saw the nanites ready for administration. He eyed them for a while, only a few seconds to ponder the decision.

* * *

Cigol had palmed Field Marshall Ascrith Taranis' face as they tumbled to the ground.

His body both internally and externally was just about destroyed, his senses shot, but still in significant pain. The rhythmic alert from the arm device, was a constant tone now, and he knew his time was up. His right arm, just about mangled and barely usable, managed to raggedly grapple at the device and input a set of final commands. Cigol placed the device on the floor. An audio message for taranis began to play on the device as rolled himself off of him.

"Hello Field Marshall. At this very moment, you should be infected with a large dose of alien nanites from a highly advance race called the Ursans. In order to speed up the infection, I had to trigger certain emotions and commit certain actions, so as to increase your adrenaline and blood flow; thereby doing so in a short amount of time. Having reprogrammed them, they should be relatively effective in merely disrupting your psychokinetic abilities, albeit temporarily I assume, and more then likely will disrupt your bodily functions. This is all on the basis that you are similar to the Terrans of the Coalition, and that you do not possess nanites of your own. I have went for the worst case scenario, and made sure that the effects of the Ursan nanite disruption are at the extreme, and it should be sufficient to complete my mission."

The device clicked off.

"Well...well done Marshall," Cigol simply stated, as he struggled to push himself up and into the cross legged position.

There was nothing else to be said, as there no anytime. Cigol closed his eyes, and took in the last few seconds that he had. The pain he felt seem to suddenly subside, and then there was darkness.

"Were you expected the womb of the Birth Givers," a familiar voice called out.

Cigol looked around to spot former President and now ascended being G'Char. "I was actually, yes."

"Well, consider this a detour," G'Char said motioning for him to follow, toward a wooden door that had appeared. "There's a few people who wish to see you."

For the first time in all the years that his crew and friends had known him, Cigol let show a small smile. He nodded and followed G'Char through the door.

Former Commander and Executive Officer of the Coalition Alliance Defense Vessel Valhalla, Cigol Nikephoros' life soon faded away, his body rigid and his posture calm.

Yet he sat on the hangerdeck of the Bismarck, with a small smile, ready for what ever happened next.

* * *

Not a word was spoken on the command deck of the Valhalla. Everyone saw the final moments, and saw their former commander and friend fall to the ground upon Ascrith.

They saw him roll himself over, and with the determination and tenacity he always displayed, lift himself into his usual meditation position, and let a smile cross his lips, before his life faded away.

Lt. Nai'ti let loose tears, as others tried to bury themselves in their work. It was entirely too much.

"The Bismarck just launched weapons against Hand," Intelligence Officer Briten reported quietly.

"It's not our problem," Nai'ti said, as she wiped the tears away. "Just get them on, and tell us to give us back the body of our officer, on the shuttle they came. Autopilot will do the rest."

Communications Officer Ty nodded somberly and tended to his duties.

* * *

Dr. Lucas Rodden held the injection needle with the nanites and began to administer them, when there was a warning on one of the medical screens. He stopped and immediately saw the Ursan nanites beginning to act differently. Releasing their usual enzymes, they began to work over time, and heal the Captain.

"Liala...do you see this?"

"Yes I do Doctor. I am detecting a faint Ursan transmission directed to the Main Infirmary," Navigator Liala stated. "I do believe Commander Cigol was successfully."

"His..his blood pressure is leveling out, and starting to rise!"

"I'm reading increased brainwave patterns."

"Heart is starting to pump again, Doctor!"

Dr. Lucas Rodden looked on in amazement. "Notify the CIC. Tell them, that the Commander was successful, the nanites are operating normally again. And the Captain is undergoing accelerated healing."

The Commander did it. By god he did it...

* * *

Captain Alexi Nikoli sat at the shuttle terminal, watching the multitude of shuttles depart and arrive, as he waited for his own.

"I'm going to be late," he murmured as he tapped his foot, impatiently.

"Do not worry Captain, you have plenty of time."

Nikoli frowned, and toward to the familiar voice, and saw Commander Cigol Nikephoros, walking towards him. He rose from his chair.

"Cigol? What are you doing here? You should be on the Valhalla," Nikoli stated.

"I am not Captain," Cigol answered, as if it was obvious. "I am dead."

Captain Nikoli looked at him confused, and then furrowed his brows, "If this is what you call a punchline, I think you should work on it more. Or at least stop listening to Lucas."

Cigol looked at the Captain, and quirked his brow.

"This is not a joke Captain. I am dead. You are still unconscious after your nanites malfunctioned and I embarked to fix that issue by going to the Bismark. This is merely a dream and I am merely a programmed representation I put into the nanites before I left," Cigol explained.

Captain Nikoli fell onto the bench, "I remember. Its blurry, but I remember and..."

Nikoli rose again, furious, staring daggers at Cigol.

"Why the hell did you abandon your post Cigol!? Why the hell did you go over there by yourself!? You're just a blue blood, pale skin hypocrite!"

Cigol merely watched brow raised as the Captain let out his fury.

"I am quite sure, you will or have called me that, should you or rather I say Liala and Ty successfully contact me, while I am over on the Bismarck," Cigol simply stated.

Captain Nikoli stopped and relaxed, remember the conversation he had with his former XO.

"Yes...yes I did. And you gave your explanation."

Captain Nikoli sat down on the bench, and Cigol joined him. Both silent.

"Captain..." Cigol started, pausing briefly. "I wish to apologize. Apologize for my behavior, since the start of our working together. And I wish to thank you. Thank you for allowing me to serve on your ship."

Captain Nikoli suddenly found himself chuckling, which surprised Cigol too.

"Actually, now that I remember, it's not like Faith gave me much of a choice, in whether I wanted you or not," the Captain chuckled.

"Indeed," Cigol admitted.

"Nonetheless," Nikoli said, as he turned toward Cigol with an outstretched hand. "I am glad to have had such a fine XO...and friend."

Cigol grasped Nikoli's hand, who startled him, by pulling him in for a hug.

"Shuttle Val-1, is ready for departure. Shuttle Val-1 is ready for departure."

"That is your shuttle Captain," Cigol said.

"Is it eh?" Nikoli responded as he rose from the bench. "Well guess I'll get moving."

Captain Alexi Nikoli grabbed his bag and headed off to the shuttle, leaving Cigol behind.

However there was just one thing itching at the back of his mind.

"Cigol!" he called out.

The Ykkins quirked an eyebrow, but kept his gaze on the setting sun. "Yes Captain."

"That time when I left you at the table in Follox's bar...with my drinks...did you drink them?"

"I was on duty Captain, I surely did not."

Captain Nikoli looked at Cigol, then shrugged. "Alrighty then."

Cigol watched as the Captain left, and a small smile crossed his lips, before everything faded to white.

Braesk stared at the wounded, holding the pistol. They looked so... Calm. But he knew what had happened. Cigol died, and Ascrith was dying a very lonely death. Now Braesk would die a lonely death. It was weird, in that way. They fought as heroes in their time, they made one horrible decision which started a war, and now Braesk was going to pay.

He looked sadly at the gun he hold, twisting it around. Could he really do this? Could he really take his own life? He didn't know. He didn't know if he could take another life. Even if it was his own. But he slowly lifted the gun to his head, and burst out with one cry, staggered and soft. He cocked the gun. He started to cry even more.

"Just do it! Just do it, Braesk!" He told himself, and still didn't shoot. He shouted out in anger, just standing there, breathing heavily. Braesk started to reflect on his life then. Was he really a bad man?

****

Ascrith lay there on the floor, Cigol sitting next to him. So maybe, maybe Cigol died peacefully. He didn't know. All he knew was that he was going to die horribly, in so much pain. He coughed once, spewing out a mouthful of blood. These damn nanites would kill him, even the wounds didn't. That's what he hated. He didn't want to die.

His head hurt so much, bleeding out all sorts of things. If he put his hand to there, he'd feel some of brains. Of course, he didn't want to at all. He couldn't move much of him, except for a few things. His arm was broken, the other's muscles severed, and his legs weren't working, he didn't know why.

"Am... Am I really going to die alone? Am I really going to die without someone to be here for me, without someone to care for me, without a lass to love, or a friend?" Ascrith asked, and a single tear fell from his eye. The answer was... Yes...

"Sir! Enemy fighters have just engaged the fighter screen! Damned HRA vyksha hid their approach within the other sensor-readings from the incoming Boarding Torpedoes!" The sensor officer shouted.


"Tia'Ren damn them!" He spat, "Fighters, this is Tolarim. We're opening fire on the enemy fighters engaging you, take the standard precautions." He turned to his tactical officer, "Commander Kahr, open fire on the boarding Toredoes and fighters with the point-defense clusters. Have Aelya modify the shields... They are not to break through, understood?"


"Aye sir." Kahr said, tapping the holographic display in front of him.

The ship's AI was busy defending the ship from the HRA supercomputer, but she had a very large amount of processing power. She was the culmination of over eigheen thousand years of AI research and development, constantly self-improving her programming with the latest breathroughs in AI design, often made by her fellow Artificial Intelligences.

She pulled back most of her consciousness from her cyberattacks on the Bismarck, leaving a few of her more malicious and vindictive subroutines in place aboard the enemy vessel to continue her depredations of their systems, returning her focus to the Hand she perused the terrabytes of data from the battle and from the Hand's sensors in less than an eyeblink, paying especial attention to what the sensors could glean from the projectiles heading their way at immense velocity.

She almost laughed at the Boarding Torpedoes... they honestly expected to break through her shields with a couple of EMP blasts? It was funny really, no one had tried that trick on her for thousands of years, not since the early days of the Second Great War. She searchd through memory files she'd not had reason to access in a long time and chose a suitable strategy. These HRA Boarding Torpedoes might not be a T'Eleth class Battleship or an Is'Tah class Battlecruiser like in the old glory days, but there were only so many ways these humans could try to penetrate her shields.

The dark energy lattices that made up the foundations of the shield shifted configuration in an eyeblink, to an old pattern she remembered had been useful against Gillorian EMP weaponry, before they'd phased out such methods in favour of more direct anti-shielding technology, like those missiles that partially phased out of existence to pass through shielding. As an extra precaution, just incase changing the energy structure of the shields didn't work, she erected the Emergency Plasma Shield around the Hand beneath the first layer of shields, setting that at a different resonance frequency again.

And then, just because no one had bothered to remove the vindictive spitefulness of a War-AI from her personality, she opened fire on the Boarding Torpedoes with all of the Point-Defense clusters she had in range of them that weren't needed in fending off those fighters. Directed energy beam weapon turrets blasted forth concentrated energy blasts and coilgun PD turrets shot small fist-sized lumps of incredibly dense ballstitic material travelling at near-relativistic velocities, opened fire on the HRA boarders.

Three more fighters and a bomber exploded into vapour during the opening barrage of the HRA fighters before they scattered in evasive maneouvres. The bombers, whilst slower than their fighter counterparts, had very heavy armour and shields, able to soak up quite a bit of damage before sucumbing, whilst their more nimble fighters allies could pull sharp turns and accelerated to crushing speeds, proected from the g-force strains only by the highly advanced artificial gravity technologies of the Terelains. In truth organic pilots were mostly obsolete back home, where AI fighters, or even clouds of fighter-drones controlled by a central AI on a carrier or station, were the norm.

These men and women were the ceremonial honour gaurd for the diplomatic ship, there to provide an impressive escort and a display of the skills and powers of the Star Kingdom. Nevertheless, just like the Marine Honour Guard, each and every one of them had been chosen based on their skills and experience in flying and fighting. Just because their duties were largely ceremonial that did not mean that they might not encounter situations such as the one they had found themselves in now. They were there to look good, but they were also there to defend that ship with their lives... and by the Moralinri and Aunidiel blood in their veins, they would die protecting that ship!

Elder Tynian was staring impassively at Robbins, but then he smiled slightly, "That is true... I don't know exactly what your kind is capable of, or how powerful your military is... but you do not know our own capabilities. The Gillorians ruled five thousand worlds, their population was in the hundreds of billions, their war-caft dedicated to conquest and utter destruction of their enemies. Our war lasted seven hundred years... and despite their power and their ferocity they were destroyed. Now, it will be the turn of the HRA to test themselves against us. Perhaps you will destroy us, perhaps we will destroy you. It matters little."

With their fight temporarily stopped, Captain Tolarim took his chance, he leveled his energy pistol at Robbins and loosed off every shot his weapon could put out before it overheated and automtically switched off to prevent it from exploding in his hand, the Marines closed in almost as soon as the first shot was in the air to retrieve their wounded Elders, no matter if Nathaniel was going to protest their interference or not.

(The Hand was built by the Ancient and Noble House Amaar, and because of this a lot of the crew are Aunidiel Terelains, the Bloodline which the Amaar hold authority over. There are also a lot of Aedrimar on the crew, because they're the most numerous Bloodline and they're good with engineering, and Moralinri, the Bloodline from which the majority of the soldiers are drawn, though there are soldiers from all Bloodlines. If the Hand blows up, then you'll have royally ticked off three of the Six Bloodlines of the Kingdom.)

"Sir, we need Braesk back. He's the best captain we got now that Ascrith's dying. We also have to save Robbins and his men. What do we do, sir?" The 1st Lieutenant was worried now. This was turning into something big. He didn't want to just blast the ship apart. No, that would be too bad. He wanted to capture them, and then blow the ship to hell.

"Fire off the lance batteries, I want one shot per boarding torpedo, got that? Concentrate them so they go through the shields," Lysander ordered, getting in the captains chair. Sure, he could try teleporting them. But if it didn't work, they'd just scrambled 10 Terminators to hell. But they would do it. "Get the teleporter ready. I want those coordinates locked on, and 10 Terminators beamed aboard,"

The lieutenant looked uneasy. Teleporting wasn't something one could do instantly. No, it took skill to lock on to a position in space, hold on to it even though it was on the move, and then send the payload. It was a technology still in the thought stage. But he did it anyways. 10 massive armored hulks of men walked into position, and waited. Lysander was among them. He'd get everyone ready.

Lysander had his hammer and a Combat shield, so he could be even more safe. The rest of the men had storm bolters, Flamers or assault cannons (miniguns firing 35mm bullets, like the storm bolters do), and a close combat weapon of choice. Which was, of course, the power fist. Very good weapon.

"NOW!" Lysander shouted, and the position was locked on. At the same time, 10 turrets fired massive laser cannons at the ship, intended to overwhelm the shields. The boarding torpedoes even increased their EMP Shield Interrupters, and prayed to god that they didn't die. All around them, rounds missed and missed, one or two hitting them, but not damaging them. It was hard to hit a target moving faster than a bullet.

****

The fighters moved about, taking evasive actions. And for good reason. Three of them burst into flames, and five more crashed from being hit. Bad, but not too bad. There was more. Much more. At that point in time, the Laser Cannon fired at the bay, aimed very carefully, and timed just right. The light was blinding, but it was like a sun to the men. A concentrated sun, filled with plasma and energy unbelievable.

The Death Korps men, now numbered in the single digits, ducked away, so they wouldn't get fried. They prayed, and hoped that they didn't die. They had tossed a few Mustard Gas HE Flash grenades into the mist of the enemy, knowing full well that they'd be killed by them. Well, not all of them. The rest might be fried by the Laser, which was much hotter and deadlier.

Robbins jumped to the side, grabbing his pistols again, and reloading them. He pointed one gun at the man who open fired on him, and the other at the Elder, and fired both in midair. He wanted everyone who opposed him dead. And he'd do that in anyway he could. But he was hit in his leg. Now he was desperate to survive. He thought about the Mustard Gas HE Flash Grenades he had. If it boiled down to that, he'd throw them.

((Good! A bigger challenge for me!))

"He has a gun!"

"The enemy is here!"

"Oh my god, they tricked us!"

"KILL HIM! KILL HIM!"

The area where Braesk was, erupted into hysteria and panic. Officers and soldiers alike, snapped as they tried to reach for their weapons that were long since secured. Doctors, and medics, tried their best to restrain those that were more able bodied or sedate them, while they calmly soothe over those that were stuck where they area.

"Please calm down! Calm down!" yelled a medic, before turning to Braesk, and making sure to keep himself shielding one of the more irate patients. "This men and women are wounded, have you no mercy!?"

Boots clamored on the deck plate, a small team of marines, lead by a ship security officer arrived on the scene their weapons drawn.

"Captain Braesk, you will turn over your weapon and you will be escorted back to your shuttle for an immediate debrief," the officer said with little bravado, over the still hysterical patients. "We have been informed to give you to choices: Rot in our brig and be held solely accountable for the war crime in which was committed by the HRA Empire or leave this ship, and attend to immediate issues that require your attention, concerning a shooting match between the Bismarck and Hand of Terel.

"I'd personally just rather you disagree, so I can put a bullet in you," one of the grunts snarled.

The officer, shot him a look before returning his gaze back to Braesk.

Liala blinked into existence on one of the screens arms folded.

"You have already been given a 30 second head start on your decision Captain," she said dismissively, causing many eyes to widen in realization of what she meant. "Make your decision, or we will make it for you."

With that, the screen returned to normal, as she attended to other things, leaving Braesk with his choices.

* * *

Whiteness faded into darkness. Then darkness faded into sound? No, that wasn't right, he was hearing some sounds and couldn't tell if he was seeing light or not.

It took a moment, for Captain Alexi Nikoli, to realize that his eye were closed, and as usual he immediately opened them, only for the light to cause him to close them again for comfort.

"Every. Damn. Time. I don't know what it is about people, not slowly opening their eyes, so they won't burn out their retinas," Dr. Lucas Rodden quipped.

The Captain gave a small weary smile, before squinting his eyes, allowing for them to adjust. He could see Dr. Lucas Rodden, doing a quick wipe down of his tools, before sending them off to be properly cleaned and sterilized.

"Glad to be on the end your bedside manners once again Doctor," Nikoli said rasped.

"Pfft, with a patient like you, I have no choice," the Doctor said, as he threw his gloves into the tray. "You have a habit of blurring the lines between metaphorically and literally living -or dying- on the edge Nikoli."

Captain Nikoli gave a weak chuckle, "Would you want it in other way Lucas?"

"With you? Yes. I'm not going to be jumping for joy singing Rain Man, but I am glad to see you're still with us Captain," Doctor Lucas Rodden admitted. "However, I don't think I can mental handle this weird...game or yours."

"Its no game Doctor," the Captain said, resting his head on his pillow as he looked to the ceiling in thought. "I'm glad of your services nonetheless."

Doctor Lucas Rodden, placed a hand on the Captain shoulder.

"Well Captain as I said, I am truly glad to see you back. And don't take me the wrong way, as your doctor, I will do everything in my power to ensure you are able to enjoy the wonderful virtues and vices of life, but I have one request..."

"And what's that Doctor," Captain Nikoli said, with a brow raised.

"If you die...and I mean seriously die, to the point where nothing in my power is effective. Please...please do not come back to life. would probably have a heart attack, and properly curse what ever being decided it would be funny to make you something of a zombie," the Doctor said, as he gave the Captain a gentle pat.

Captain Nikoli laughed,"Who ever I meet on the other side, I'll be sure to send the message."

Dr. Rodden nodded, with a smile of his own, before picking up the tray.

"Get some rest Captain. An attendee will be here in a few to sort you out. If Liala is around, I'm sure she is, she can give you an update on what has happened thus far."

Captain Nikoli nodded, as Dr. Lucas Rodden headed for the room door. A thought suddenly struck the Captain and he shouted back for Rodden.

"Yes Captain?"

"What about..." Nikoli paused, already knowing the answer to his question. "What about Commander Cigol?"

The Doctor's face softened and sadden a bit; a dark shadow slowly coming to hang over him.

"I am sorry Captain. Hopefully, we can get his body shortly. Liala can fill you in."

With that Doctor Lucas Rodden, left leaving the Captain alone, in silence.

"Navigator Liala," Nikoli called out. "Give me an update. And I want to see the transmission of Commander Cigol's last moment."

Without question, the large display blinked on, and reports began to fill the screen. It split and the recorded video or Cigol and Ascrith's final moments played out. And Captain Alexi Nikoli watched onward in silence.

* * *

Terra, New Eden, Alpha Centauri System

There was knock on the door, but Commander Cornelius, head of the Coalition Alliance Intelligence Network Special Division already knew who it was. There was not a word spoken as he read over a report, and a minute later, the door opened to the admittance of one of his subordinates.

"Sir, we just got an alert, that one of our operatives initiated their termination protocols."

The Commander raised a brow, taking his eyes off the report and sat quietly eye on the officer. The officer frowned in confusion.

God I never can get use to this telepathic thing, the officer thought.

Which is why I do it and save my energy talking.

The mental statement startled the officer, who forgot that active thought filtering was nessecary in the presence of Commander Cornelius.

"As I was saying Sir, an operative activated their termination protocols. It was Commander Cigol Nikephoros who did so."

The Commander leaned back in his chair and his shoulder slumped. Commander Cigol Nikephoros, who had actually a few years ago disavowed his connection with C.A.I.N after the fiasco of humanity withdrawing from the Coalition, ironically was still one of their best "unofficial" operatives. To lose him at such a crucial time, was...a pity.

Commander Cornelius' gaze returned back to the officer.

"Yes, we just received it, along with a sizable information dump concerning most of his files. Some of them have been scrubbed or erased to uselessness, obviously he was aware what would happen at his death. However, the backup bugs went undetected and managed to grasp a few bits and pieces here. One of which I think you'll find interesting."

The officer, took out a datapad and linked it to the Commander's display. Data began rolling onto the screens, and the officer was right, it was interesting.

"No, I don't think it'll be posing too much of a problem with our research with the Ursan nanites," the officer responded to the Commander's telepathic question. "There are only a few beings, including yourself, that we are aware of with sizable display of psychokinetic ability. After former President G'Char disappeared, our research in that was cut short. Point is, we don't believe they'll face any level of interference, but we'll get teams on it."

Commander Cornelius continued to read on, until there was another spot of interest.

"It says here, they came into possession of another set of alien nanites," the Commander said aloud.

"We can't confirm that Sir."

"Confirm it. Information Seizure Protocol under the directive of Interstellar Security," the Commander ordered.

The officer nodded and left the room,as Commander Cornelius continued to skim through the final reports of Commander Cigol.

Captain Tolarim didn't move as the bullets impacted the shields around the workstation he and the Elder had taken cover behind, his own energy bolts passing through the shields only because they were modulated to the exact same resonance as the shields, which changed at random intervals. The changes were communicated to the energy pistols through tiny computers. Tolarim tossed his gun aside, as it would be useless until it cooled down and pulled out a knife of his own, it too was elegantly curved looking almost like a hunting knife. Tolarim charged at Robbins in the same instant that the rest of the Terelain Marines charged him with their ceremonial spears, claws and guns.

Elder Tynian tried to move out of the way as soon as he saw Robbins go for his guns, but he was too slow and the bullet caught him the side as tried to dodge out of the way. He lay on the floor, panting, blood oozing from the wounds on his chest and sides. His injuries were finally beginning to tell and if nothing else he might very well bleed out, even with the medical nanites in his blood trying to close the wounds.

In the hangar bay things were going badly for everyone involved. The laser had fried many of the Terelain defenders who, taken by surprise, hadn't been able to find cover quickly enough and many of those that did were killed by the mustard gas grenades. The bulkheads at the rear of the hangar bay sealed as the automated systems detected the enemy weaponsfire and the poison gas, trapping the remaining Terelain defenders with their enemies and the gas.

"C-captain... this... the hangar bay... they've gased us sir, we're... we're going to take them out. Ilaris judge us well. Teklem Eshet." The ranking survivor reported, flicking on his comm.

With defiant cries of anger and pain the remaining Terelains charged the Death Korps men. They no longer cared about living. They would not allow these humans to defile a single inch more of the ship. They would die to prevent them from taking the Hand.

Aelya watched the carnage in the hangar bay with an almost clinical detachment. Horror, grief and anger were emotions for another day. By the Three Sisters these HRA humans would pay for their attack on an innocent diplomatic vessel. Aelya would make sure of it. She had protocols in place in the eventuality that this ship fell into enemy hands... she would do her duty to her people.

The Hand of Terel would not fall into enemy hands. She would not allow the Elders to be taken as hostages or be killed by Flicker-life aliens. She would not allow it.

Aelya poured almost all of her intellect upon the problem of maintaining the shields against the HRA attacks. The Hand was equipped with a Mark IV Adaptive Shield Matrix. This meant that the shields automatically attempted to adapt their configuration and frequency to provide the optimal defense against enemy weapons. The areas where enemy weaponsfire impacted the shields were strengthened in relation to other parts of the shield and the underlying matrix of energis changed to better withstand the particular weapon being used.

Nevertheless, the Hand was not a warship and it did not have the energy resources to withstand so much punishment... not unless she rerouted power from other systems. Aelya had been constantly deactivating nonessential systems and channelling the energy to the shields to try and buy more time. Eventually she had begun shutting down life support systems in non-occupied rooms and corridors, informing the crew of these danger areas. By the time she was done the only places on the ship still habitable and with power was the bridge, the hangar, the crew quarters, the medical bay and engineering.

And yet the enemy still kept up their attacks. Aelya managed to fend off most of the Boarding Torpedoes allowing them to impact the shields, attempting to configure the shields in such a way as to absorb the momentum of the enemy craft and use the small amounts of energy it gave to add even a fraction of a fraction of a percent more power to other areas.

Her desperate tricks did not work in all cases, however, the ten Terminators managed to beam aboard unmolested by the shielding as it began to fail in places, allowing a few of the boarding Torpedoes to reach the weakened plasma shielding beneath the first layer of shields which their EMP weapons would be able to penetrate.

On the bridge a warning klaxon sunded to warn the crew that enemy boarders had penetrated their defences, the comms officer's hands were dancing over her holographic display. She'd spent almost all of their time in this region of space co-ordinating with the sensor officer to try and pinpoint their location so they could get a signal off... and finally the hard work paid off.

"This is the Envoy class Diplomatic Cruiser Hand of Terel to any and all Terelain assets within communications range. We have come under attack by hostile forces of the HRA Empire, the Revered Elders Tynian and Amaar are aboard tihs ship and are wounded, defensive measure are failing. We are being boarded. I repeat, this is the Hand of Terel, we are being boarded by HRA hostiles. We are preparing for... for initiation of Gilau Protocol. If no further communications are recieved from this vessel assume successful initiation of Gilau Protocol." The comms officer paused and then said, "May the Younger Gods have mercy... we are at war. Teklem Eshet."

"Ten enemy contacts. Heavily armed and armoured detected. Assumed strategy: direct attack on the bridge, extract and retreival of hostile commander. Recommended course of action: destroy hostile commander and eliminate hostiles." Aelya said calmly, "I will initiate Gilau Protocol if the situation becomes irretrievable. Teklem Eshet... it was an honour."

[Teklem Eshet means 'until Eternity', it's a ritual phrase often spoken by soldiers preparing to die, or men preparing to send men to die.]

Braesk looked up at the officer. Boy, this man had lots of guts. To approach a suicidal man to take the weapon away? Well, not that he was going to hurt anyone besides himself, but still. It was a good choice on his behalf. Braesk handed the weapon to him, and held out his arms. He knew what he had to do. He was going to take charge of what he did, because that would be the first, but not the last.

"I hereby give myself up to be judged by a man of good standing in your nation. For if I can't take my own life, I hope you can," Braesk said, dropping the gun, and looking a little guilty. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

****

Ascrith stared at the ceiling, and touched his wrist. That was the communications tab that he used. It beeped once, signaling the use of it. Now he could talk, and the captain could hear him. Hell, the whole other ship could possibly hear him. He looked over, there was Cigol. And he wasn't leaving his body on this ship, no sir, he was giving it back to the others.

"Nikoli... I... I don't know if you can hear me or not, but I have to say this. Captain, I give... I give myself up to your ship, and confess to my war crimes," Ascrith said, trying to get up. He was in so much pain, but he finally did it, walking. It hurt with every step. But he was going to do what he promised himself. He picked up Cigol, and began walking back over to the man's shuttle. "But... I'm not leaving him... here... Captain, if this is my last act, so be it, but you will get your Commander,"

And Ascrith got to the shuttle, opening the door, and laying the body inside. He thought he had the autopilot button in sight, and pressed it, closing the door. The shuttle began to move now, and Ascrith fell to the ground, wheezing.

****

Robbins put on his gas mask, and tossed two canisters. They hit the ground with a bounce, and exploded. First the flash, stunning those nearby, then the gas, filling the air. That's when the explosive hit. A small blast erupted inside, spreading the gas out more, and destroying the first few shields around it.

Jacob continued firing his gun, though, pausing once again to reload. This was turning into a bloody affair.

The Death Korps men got up, and fired into the charging crowd. A single flame thrower, spewing fire hotter than plasma, tried to incinerate the first few that were closer to him. Meanwhile, automatic shotguns pelted the enemy, but still they got through. That's when the savagery came to play. A sword was swung, trying to decapitate the nearest man. Bayonets stuck each other, and the butts of rifles smashed in heads. Blood covered the ground.

The torpedoes that got through hit the empty spots, and burst open. 10 Marines each walked out, looking around. No lights, but they could still see. Flashlights from their helmets, and guns, and their night vision helped them look around. There was no air, but their helmets let them breathe. It was their type of fight.

They got to the crew quarters, looking at the door. How lovely it looked, metal, strong. But not enough for this. The Sergeant placed a meltabomb on the door, and everyone walked away. They bomb exploded, shattering the door apart, and melting pieces of metal. The air began to rush out. This would be interesting.

Then they walked in, and began firing. 21mm bullets shot out of the massive bolters, aimed for the enemy. Grenades were tossed, and a flamethrower, spewing fire hotter than anything else man made, torched the insides. It was carnage.

The Terminators began their movement, walking towards the bridge. They were getting closer and closer, slowly making their way. Then they met up with another boarding party of ten marines. Lysander got an idea.

"Find the main computer, and destroy it. I don't want them to destroy the ship,"

The carnage aboard the diplomatic vessel was terrible. The vast majority of the crew were unarmed noncombatants, but when they realised that these humans would not even spare civilians they launched themselves at the marines, knowing that they would die but determined not to go before Ilaris and their Ancestors without some show of defiance, of the ferocity of their most ancient ancestors.

Claws and teeth glanced off harmlessly against body armour, punches, kicks and other blows using the Peace Forms of the Tae Kil Raan martial art were similarly ineffective... but still the Terelains foughts tooth and claw against the enemy soldiers.

As soon as the marines began blowing open the sealed chambers, Aelya began re-activating the life support systems in the ship. Rerouting power to the shields was pointless now. Pressure and gravity returned to the corridors and rooms of the ship and air began to flow freely again.

Soon, when the hopelessness of their situation became all too apparent as they were gunned down, the Terelains began to sing. In accordance with their most ancient religious traditions, older even than their modern civilisation, whenever a Terelin died elegiac songs were to be sung from the moment of death until the body was buried or burned on a funeral pyre. When they realised that soon there would be no one to sing their elegies, the Terelain crew sang their own - for their fellows and for themselves.

In the hangar bay the Terelain Marines were falling and dying, hurling themselves at their enemies without regards for bullets or fires. If this was the end for them, so be it. They would not travel the Twilit Paths to the afterlife without giving a full accounting of themselves in thier final moments. Each man and woman used their swords, spears, guns, hands, feet, claws and teeth to their fullest effect, they used every trick and tactic they had remaining to them, determined to take as many of their enemies to go before their own human gods as possible.

Aelya noticed the HRA commander's order to destroy her. It wasn't hard to figure out what these humans would do to stop her initiating Gilau Protocol. A grim virtual smile would have appeared on her lips if she'd materialised her avatar hologram. This was not the first time she'd faced enemy boarders seeking to destroy her... her ship was boarded, her crew was dying, her last contingencies in place...

"Alright boys, if you want to dance... let's dance." Aelya said, hacking their communications channel, "But be warned... I'm a very good dancer."

First she tried the standard procedures; sealing bulkheads, overloading consoles and rupturing conduits near enemy soldiers to try and injure or kill them, she tried hacking into their suit systems to use their own weapons against them, she threw every single trick and devious strategy she'd learned over sixteen thousand years of war and tudying war and watching the wars of others.

She backed up her systems sending copies of her program to back-up servers distrubuted throughout the ship, she even sent a copy of heself along with the cycling message from the communications array, so that hopefully she would survive this battle even if she lost the Hand and then, just to be cheeky and stick a virtual middle finger up to her enemies, she tried to copy her program to the enemy's own main computer, knowing it probably wouldn't work but it at least showed how contemptible she found these humans.

Her last gamble was to initiate the Gilau Protocol immediately, hoping to complete it before they could find and destroy her... in the miraculous scenario where they actually managed to survive this, then she could just deactivate it.

"Gilau Protocol active. All hands... well, it was nice knowing you." Aelya said over the ship's internal comms, she then activated the ship-to-ship communications, "All ships, this is the War-AI Aelya, presently in control of the Hand of Terel. There's fighing going on in the bridge and hangar, the HRA are slaughtering unarmed civilian crewmembers and now they're coming for me. I know we stuck our noses in your business, but we saw it as our duty to prevent a war... to prevent more death and destruction. Instead, the HRA have attacked us... even though we tried to help their wounded. I don't know what you lot think of us, and I don't particularly care any more. I just want you lot to remember what's about to happen next... we are Terelains. We are the Last Elder Race of Aerin. We fight to the last and though we love peace we always prepare for war. We did not wish it to come to this... we did not start this war... but by the gods we will see it end, even if it means our very destruction. Teklem Eshet. Until Eternity."

The Hand turned, aiming directly at the Bismarck, it began accelerating, re-activating its shields, pouring the last vestiges of its power into the shields and engines. This was the way the Terelains made war. If they were going to be destroyed then they would take the other side with them if they could. Better that they die ensuring their enemies are destroyed than to allow their enemies to continue with their war-like ways and threaten the peace and stability of other nations and species.

The slaughter on the bridge was similarly terrible to the fighting elsewhere in the ship. Those Terelains unprotected by shields, or whose shields overloaded thanks to proximity to the explosions began choking on the poison gas, or were hurled to the ground, wounded, flesh and fur smoking from burns.

Elder Tynian was still alive, wounded and bleeding but saved from the gas by the shield of the workstation he'd crawled to, his wife was also still alive, unconscious under the workstation that Tolarim had left her at, hidden by the consoles and holograms.

The captain himself had managed to survive the gas, at least long enough to reach Robbins. He'd lost his knife, so all he had to defend himself were his natural claws and fangs. Some of the marines were also closing in, one or two fell choking as Robbins' bullets overloaded their shields and the gases slowly killed them, but the others carried on regardless of the fates of their fellows. The only thought on any of their minds was to kill this man. To rip this human to pieces for his terrible crimes

Some of the bridge crew were dead. The tactical officer, commander Kahr, was down, his chest fur still smoking from the explosion on his console when his shield had overloaded. The sensor officer was choking on the gases, on his knees, his shields having failed.

The communications officer was still alive, she touched some holographic symbols, setting her earlier message to continously transmit on repeat before she took out her own pistol and began taking potshots at Robbins, though it was obvious from the wide misses that she probably hadn't handled the weapon since her officer training who knows how many years ago.

Nathaniel Tynian propped himself up against the console, watching the carnage unfold around him, his mouth twisted into bitter smirk, "I always knew I'd die in battle... I've always been a warrior at heart..." He shook his head, "I have lived long, and I have done all I can to honour my Ancestors and my people.. Ilaris... judge me kindly for my sins... Tia'Ren admit me into the Celestial City, for I am weary of this mortal world... and... Ancestors... Father... forgive me for failing to defend these people." With that speech to himself, to his gods and his ancestors finished, Elder Nathaniel Tynian, The Exile Returned, Founder of the Third Kingdom, Father of the Exalted Ones, got onto his knees, took the knife he had dropped into his hands and held it before him... and waited for his death.