Re-application

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Telros
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Re: Re-application

Post by Telros »

OOC: That is fine. I left that part vague as possible, so that change changes nothing really. I look forward to your writing. ^^
Pyramid Facehugger would be fucking brutal. I don't know if I'll ever get to sleep with the thought of that genocidal rape behemoth rampaging through the large-eyed schoolgirls swimming in a sea of biceps that populate my subconscious.


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Thrashia
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Re: Re-application

Post by Thrashia »

Imperial Dreadnought-class Cruiser Vigilance
Mission Profile: Patrol and Anti-Piracy
Location: Outer Rim Territories


The bridge was quiet. But then, it always was at this late hour. Out on deep runs when time could not be measured by the rising and falling of a local star, the ship’s crew operated on three shifts. And for Ensign Nuarc that meant that every time the modulated, blue-flashing alert chrono went on, that meant he had three minutes to get to the bridge and relieve his opposite number or else face getting his butt chewed off by Lieutenant Schrell. Not a promising prospect. Nuarc rolled out of bed and pulled on his polished, black boots. He was already wearing his pants and undershirt. He’d learned early on from a fighter pilot friend of his that it was always easier to get dressed when you didn’t have to mess with pants.

Boots on, with cap and tunic jacket in hand, he stepped out of the bunk room and stepped into the hallway, turning right. He reached the turbolift seconds later, calling out to a technician buddy to hold the door. Nuarc pulled on his jacket and set his cap just right. His superior wasn’t a stickler for the whole spit-and-polish system that pervaded most fleet ships, but he didn’t let sloppy crewmen onto his bridge when on duty.

The bridge was nearly empty when Nuarc arrived, which was only natural since it was early “morning.� He looked out the transparisteel viewport to see the miasma of light that was the clear sign of traveling through hyperspace. He ignored it and went on. He stepped around the main crew pit to the aft side of the ship where the comm array was. Another ensign looked up with a weary smile. “Thought you were abandoning your post,� the other man said.

“Thought about it, considering I won yesterday’s sabaac pot. Got enough to set up my own cantina practically,� smiled Nuarc. The other man stood up and let Nuarc take his place, chuckling at the other’s joke.

“Yea, well, that’ll happen sometime. But you won’t be so lucky tonight!�

Laughing, the other man left the bridge, most likely to slip into a semi-comfortable bunk for a bit of gloriously good sleep. Nuarc sighed and put his headset on. He typed in his access code and logged on into the system, letting the computer know he was on duty. A minute later his superior appeared at his shoulder.

“Ensign Nuarc, good to see you on time for once,� Lieutenant Schrell said. Nuarc turned and nodded. Did the man ever sleep? It seemed like he was always on the bridge.

“Yes sir,� replied Nuarc.

The lieutenant however didn’t have another chance to begin verbally assaulting Nuarc, as the captain came onto the bridge. Schrell stepped over to him and saluted, Nuarc watched as they had a quiet conversation. Captain Domor, commander of the Vigilance, was an older man, probably the oldest on the ship. He’d served in the navy for years, most likely before Nuarc was even born. He however did not seem to see through the clean-cut veneer that Lieutenant Schrell used whenever the captain was around.

“We’re coming out of hyperspace in a minute sir,� Lieutenant Schrell reported.

“Good,� replied Captain Domor. “I expect we’ll be given new orders once we dock with the Lonely Wood. Though they’re probably more in need of new faces to see than getting new orders.�

“Yes sir,� smiled Schrell.

The floor of the bridge started humming and reverberated slightly. The two officers turned to see the star lines of hyperspace disappear as they slowed down to normal space. An ensign marched over and saluted, informing them of the fact that they were indeed in the Hydra System. It was a small, almost insignificant system, except for the fact that it was used for a patrol station. Imperial ships that would be on duty for months at a time would come back to stations like that of the Lonely Wood in the Hydra System and refuel, restock, and relax for a short period for needed R&R.

“Comm, alert the Lonely Wood of our approach,� Captain Domor’s voice ordered, floating over Nuarc’s shoulder. He replied with a slightly-audible yes sir and flipped on a series of comm channels, tapping in the sequence of keys that would send out a comm pulse, alerting anything with ears and eyes that the Vigilance was in-system.

“Lonely Wood, this is Imperial Dreadnought Vigilance, do you read?� Nuarc asked into the comm, trying not to sound bored. He flipped a switch to receive the reply. But for a minute straight he got nothing but static. Nuarc frowned and flipped the ‘out’ switch again. “Lonely Wood, this is Imperial Dreadnought Vigilance, do you read?� he repeated.

“Problem ensign?� Lieutenant Schrell asked, standing over Nuarc’s shoulder like some demonic apparition. Nuarc however had a good excuse this time.

“Sir, I’m hailing them but receiving no reply,� explained Nuarc. “I’ll try a third time, but thus far no one is answering.�

Captain Domor, who’d come over to listen, frowned. He turned and walked over to the crew pit that was on the other side of the bridge. Lieutenant Schrell gave Nuarc one of those looks and stalked back over to the captain.

“ComScan, give me a reading of the Lonely Wood,� ordered Domor.

“Running diagnostics now sir…power systems detected…,� the man looked up at his captain. “Power systems are running sir, but there’s something wrong with our sensors I think.�

“Like what?� scoffed Schrell.

“We’re detecting the power emissions just fine…but we’re reading absolutely nothing on the life scans. Far as our sensors are concerned, there are no life forms on the Lonely Wood.�

The bridge lapsed into silence. The Vigilance had been on patrol for two full cycles and had docked with the Lonely Wood at least six times in between those periods. The patrol station held over five thousand souls, ten times the number of crewmen and women on the Vigilance. Dark thoughts passed through practically every head on the bridge.

“Scan the rest of the system,� ordered Captain Domor. “Helm, bring us into docking with the Lonely Wood.�

“What are you thinking sir?� asked Lieutenant Schrell.

“I believe the Lonely Wood might have suffered an attack by pirates or other groups,� replied Domor.

“Pirates? Are you serious? On a station like the Lonely Wood? That would be suicide.�

“There are some groups which are powerful enough to challenge an entire system fleet lieutenant,� said Domor with dark certainty. “It wouldn’t be too much of a stretch for them to hit and pillage a station like the Lonely Wood.�


[center]* * * * * * * * * * *[/center]

The Vigilance had no problems docking with the Lonely Wood. Its docking procedures were all automated to begin with, and it was just a matter of the bridge’s helmsman being able to see and nudge the nose of the Dreadnought into place. The air-tight capsule-lock connected with their port side and a sealed tunnel connected the ship with the deep-space station. However it was that simplicity and ease which confounded the entire bridge yet again.

“I don’t understand,� admitted Lieutenant Schrell.

“Damnedest thing,� murmured Captain Domor.

The two officers stood at the side of the view port looking out at the station. What ComScan reported and their own eyes told them caused them to look on in confusion and growing unease. The station was completely untouched. Mint condition, would be the phrase, if the ship had been towed into place just yesterday. But as far as pirate attacks and other coercive acts were concerned, this had to be the cleanest and most orderly of them all.

�It’s impossible that they were taken by surprise,� said Schrell, almost sounding like he was making excuses. “There are supposed to be half a wing of TIEs on scout duties around the chrono all the time.�

“I’m aware of that Lieutenant,� Domor’s gruff voice replied. He turned to Imperial Army officer who stood behind them. “Captain Zander, prepare a boarding party. You’re to investigate and see what exactly happened aboard that station.�

“Yes sir, I will see to it,� Captain Zander said, saluting. He turned and left the bridge to go and prepare his men.

[center]* * * * * * * *[/center]


The air-lock door split with an audible squeal and four stormtroopers burst through the gap, blaster rifles aimed in different directions, covering every angle. One raised his hand and motioned forward. Six more troopers exited the tunnel and past the first group. They split into pairs and began leap-frogging from cover to cover. Whether it was a doorway or a ventral shaft, the troopers squeezed into any spot with ease, blasters always aimed forwards and at potential danger spots.

“Entry hall and docking bay AA-1 clear. No sign of any crew,� the trooper sergeant reported. The stormtroopers took up positions at the entrances leading further into the station. Two black uniformed lieutenants appeared through the tunnel door followed by a sensor team being led by Lieutenant Schrell.

“Open those blast doors,� ordered Schrell. The stormtrooper sergeant pointed to two other troopers who nodded and went to work on the doors. Within a moment they were open and the stormtroopers took up positions again, acting the same way they would on hostile territory. Lieutenant Schrell took out his datapad and opened the files that the Vigilance had on the blueprints of the Lonely Wood.

Schrell walked over to one of the stormtrooper officers. “Commander, you’re to take a squad and head to the cafeteria level, two decks down. It’s the largest space besides the hangar and leads directly to the security vaults beyond them. I’ll take the other squad and head to the command center on C-deck.�

“As you say sir,� the stormtrooper officer said, his face a mask of emotionless.

Schrell led his group up to the turbolift and they entered. As they had passed down the halls they’d discovered uniform caps, datapads with their programs still running, and even a few comlink still on, though nothing being said. It wasn’t right, nothing was. Lieutenant Schrell sighed to himself and focused on the moment, clearing his thoughts. The turbolift doors opened to reveal C-deck, the command deck, of the Lonely Wood. The stormtroopers entered first, leap-frogging again. Lieutenant Schrell entered behind them and then wished he hadn’t entered at all. He’d found part of the crew of the Lonely Wood.

They were sitting at their stations as if they’d just arrived on duty. The command chair, a copy of the same chair that sat on the bridge of practically every starship in the Imperial navy, held the commander of Lonely Wood. Though the last time Lieutenant Schrell had seen them, they hadn’t been corpses. The skin was black and brown, lines of blood covering each uniform, eye sockets completely empty and tongues gone. Demonic faces of the damned calling out in fear and pain is what Schrell thought. One particular corpse, a deck officer by his uniform, was on the floor, lying in such a way that is looked as if he’d been crawling just before death. His fingernails were torn up and there were lines on the metal floor from their passing. Schrell’s comlink beeped and he answered it.

“Sir, you’re going to want to come see this,� came the stormtrooper officer’s voice over the comlink.


Schrell made his way down the cafeteria and was horrified by what the stormtroopers had found. There were hundreds of them. Laying, sitting, and even a few leaned against something in a mock standing position. Their bodies were the same as those on the bridge. Skin black and brown, evidence of blood rivulets on their uniforms, eye sockets empty and tongues missing. A few faces were turned toward the door, where Schrell now stood, and each mouth was gaping open in silent screams. Others looked as if they could start moving again, a spoon or fork still held in hand with a piece of now spoiled food on the utensil. Schrell’s stomach wasn’t doing him any favours at this point.

“Sir, the vault is locked,� reported the stormtrooper sergeant. He and the other soldiers around him seemed entirely unaffected by the bodies around them. But then judging by the carnage some of them had seen, that didn’t surprise the fleet officer much.

“Then give the command override,� replied Schrell, trying to keep his voice as calm and cool as possible.

“We did sir, but the lock seems to be damaged.�

“Then blast the damned thing open,� Schrell said, exasperated and on edge.

“Yes sir.�

The stormtroopers took their orders literally. Several thermal detonators and a blaster bolt later, Schrell was walking through the smoking remains of the vault door. Inside they found several more corpses. These corpses seemed even more desecrated than the others. Bones were twisted at odd angles and jaws were completely missing. One was in a corner, obviously female from the hair length, curled up in a ball and arms up, as if she’d been shielding herself.

“Get a med team in here,� said Schrell. “Have them collect a few samples of the bodies…though from in the vault here…I want a report of how these people died.�

“Sir, one of the victims was holding this,� said a stormtrooper. He held up a small shiny object. Schrell took it and held it up to the light. It was gold, he could tell that immediately. Shaped like a large medallion. There was a picture of a laughing wolf on it with strange carvings on its edges. Schrell pocketed it and turned back to the troopers.

“Come on, get this area clear.�

[center]* * * * * * * * *[/center]

“Well we know for sure that the eyeballs melted within seconds,� said the doctor. “Most likely while they died…residue from the top of the mouths suggest that the same happened to their tongues. Skin is completely lacerated and strangely charred, as if they were cut and then burned.�

“That’s all very nice,� said Captain Domor. “What I need to know is what killed them, not how.�

“Please captain, let me do my job,� responded the doctor, distracted as he held a corpse arm up to a light to examine some detail. “One detail will lead to another.�

“If you weren’t the only doctor on this ship, Captain Mardel, I’d have you brought up for insubordination,� glowered Captain Domor.

“Be that as it may,� sighed Dr. Mardel. “I still can’t give you an answer. Far as I’m concerned, I don’t have a clue what killed them. I can tell you though that two of the six corpses you brought in have the strange phenomenon of their internal organs missing.�

“Missing?�

“As in they’re not there, whether in decomposing residue or burnt to a crisp. Gone. As if they’d been surgically removed,� said Dr. Mardel.

“Well keep working on it,� said Captain Domor. He stomped out of the medical ward and left Dr. Mardel and his assistants. One of the aides flipped a corpse’s arm over and widened his eyes.

“Sir, come look at this!�

“What is it?� asked Dr. Mardel, coming over. The palm of one corpse was completely untouched by the rest of the bodily affliction. It looked as healthy as if it belonged to a living body.

“Why is it in the shape of a circle?� asked another assistant. The medical war door opened and Dr. Mardel turned around.

“Ah, Lieutenant Schrell, I was just speaking to…Lieutenant Schrell?�

The medical wing door closed and muffled the sounds of screaming.

[center]* * * * * * * * *[/center]

Captain Domor walked through the lower decks until he came to his private entertainment suite. Each ship commander in the fleet had chances to have one arranged for him, and in Domor’s case he’s chose something a little unconventional. He stepped through it and was surrounded by hundreds of shelves filled with thousands of books. Real, paper and ink, hide covered books. On the black market somewhere, to the right collectors, his books could reach into the millions of credits. Domor however had never thought once of selling them. He loved them too much. A small holo of a sandy-haired young boy reading a book on a patch of grass was hanging on the wall. Domor smiled at it and sat at his desk. He hadn’t been sitting for more than a few moments when the chime on his door sounded.

“Enter,� said Domor. He held his favourite book in hand, reading the title page for probably the hundredth time. He looked up.

“Lieutenant Schrell do you have that report that I…Lieutenant Schrell?�

The book fell to the floor.

[center]* * * * * * * * * *[/center]

Ensign Nuarc yawned and rolled out of bed as he heard the chrono chime again. He yawned and sighed. Another duty round of the most boring job in the galaxy. He had no euphoria as he had the previous day either. The previous night’s game of sabaac had gone the opposite way he’d hoped for. Not only had he lost all the credits he’d won before, but he actually owed a bit to another crewman, a detention deck crewman by he name of Lars. Nuarc scoffed at the thought of that fat pig of a man spending his credits on food and other junk.

Nuarc entered the turbolift and pulled on his jacket. His cap came last just as the doors opened a second time and he stepped onto the bridge. He walked over to the comm array and tapped the guy on the shoulder. “Hey Zam, my turn to spell you for a bit.� Ensign Zam didn’t move.

Nuarc raised and eyebrow and sighed. He turned the chair around on its swivel and then jumped out of his own skin in horror. Ensign Zam was dead. His skin was completely black and brown, fresh blood running down his uniform and Nuarc could see small bits of white mucus pouring out of the sockets.

Nuarc ran over to the crew pit and looked down to see three horrendous faces looking back, mouths agape and blood and eyeball mucus played out over their uniforms and bodies. The first thought that came to Nuarc’s mind is the one he followed first. He ran back over to the communications array and typed in a specific transmission. He heard footsteps behind him and he turned, just after pressing the send transmitter.

A crewman, or woman actually, came running onto the deck screaming. She nearly ran over Nuarc in her charge. “It’s coming! It’s coming! Get out of my way, get out of my way! We’ve got to get out of here!� she babbled on and on so fast that Nuarc barely understood her.

“What’s coming?� Nuarc demanded, grabbing her by the arms and shaking her until she stood still. “What’s coming this way?�

Her answer came in the form of Lieutenant Schrell. Only it was clearly no longer Lieutenant Schrell. His eyeballs were completely white, as if the pupils had rolled to the back of his skull. There were red marks all around the rim of his eyes, looking almost like goggle markings. His tongue hung out, which wouldn’t be so strange if it wasn’t for the fact that it was five times longer than normal.

The crewwoman screamed and ran, trying to dodge around Lieutenant Schrell. The thing, whatever it was, grabbed her however. She fell to her knees in front of what use to be the lieutenant. He raised his hand and Nuarc thought he saw a shiny disc in his hand. Whatever if was it disappeared in a bright flash of light. The woman began screaming uncontrollably, a soul rending scream that reverberated around the open bridge as if the three of them were standing inside of a bell as it rang. Nuarc watched, horrified, as the woman’s skin was ripped apart by glowing white tendrils and just as quickly turned black by a heat that Nuarc felt even ten feet away. For a bare second the woman turned back to Nuarc. Her gaze faltered as she screamed and he watched as the color in her eyes drained away, along with her eyeballs, as they melted. Her screams were cut off as well, replaced by a sucking sound; her tongue was melting and keeping her from screaming any further. Another few seconds and it was all over. The woman’s corpse fell to the floor.

“Another tasty treat for the Jester’s feast!� the thing cried in a voice that sounded like Lieutenant Schrell speaking in concert with two other voices, one that of a small child and the other of an aged old man. Schrell raised his palm and Nuarc saw clearly the medallion held in his hand. It was glowing white, pulsating. Schrell’s eyes were doing the same. Nuarc reached for a dropped blaster pistol, aiming it with shaking arms. “You’re next little man.�

Nuarc was a lot of things. He was a gambler and a cheat. He was a dissatisfactory member of the Imperial Navy. He was a failed husband and a bad sibling. But for all those vices Nuarc was still a man. “Not me,� Nuarc said.

The blaster pistol sounded off like a bolt of thunder. The thing that Lieutenant Schrell cocked its head in curiosity. Nuarc’s body fell to the floor, the blaster pistol falling out of his hand, his cauterized brains praying across the floor.

“All the playthings are gone. No more food to be had. This no fun!� the thing said to itself. Lieutenant Schrell, having been cogent this whole time behind the personality of the medallion, had slipped into a silent scream of insanity; and then slid into pain and finally death as the medallion consumed him.


Two Weeks Later…

Imperial Star Cruiser Lucrezia
Mission Profile: Emergency Signal Response
Location: Abandoned outpost Lonely Wood


They moved through the station and the ship, turning everything over and afterwards a stormtroopers armed with a flamer would follow. It seemed quite clear that a virus had overtaken the crew of the station and of the Dreadnought that had docked. The stormtroopers made it to the bridge of the Vigilance. They were slightly surprised to find one body without viral corruption. The commanding officer was ordering it put in a body bag when one of the stormtroopers tapped him on the shoulder.

“Look at this sir. One of the victims was holding this,� the stormtrooper said. He held up a golden medallion.
"You served too long under Lord Vader, Captain. I have no qualms about accepting a useful idea merely because it wasn't my own. My position and ego are not at stake here."
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Telros
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Re: Re-application

Post by Telros »

Excellent. Nice work. Next test.

Scenario #2: The Galactic Empire is faced with war against a rival alliance, which has formed to combat the GE on ideological grounds. The war has been brutal and long, but it has been largely a stalemate. In a surprise move, they launch a wave of surprise attacks, warping fleets to attack homeworlds directly. RP your nations reaction, and how they handle the battle. Win or lose is fine, as long as it fills the parameters.
Pyramid Facehugger would be fucking brutal. I don't know if I'll ever get to sleep with the thought of that genocidal rape behemoth rampaging through the large-eyed schoolgirls swimming in a sea of biceps that populate my subconscious.


Oh you're starving? WELL FUCK YOU THEN, HADUKEN!
-- Proof that the Old Testament God was a dick.
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Thrashia
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PART ONE

Post by Thrashia »

PART ONE

Imperial Fortress Roma, Codenamed Cassandra
Location: Julian System | Outer Planet Caligula


There are few secrets in the Empire of Thrashia more heavily guarded than those within the master computer system located within the fortress on the planet Caligula. It is more carefully guarded than the doors to the Imperial treasury or even to the tombs of Thrashia’s emperors. For within the bowels of that fortress is the key to entering the homeworld system of the Empire, the beating heart of an empire that is hidden. Dor Lomin, that heart, is located in a remote star cluster. The close proximity of the stars to each other in that system makes navigation into the cluster difficult. There are only a few safe routes into the Dor Lomin System, and though they are all guarded by Thrashian Imperial fortifications, the secrecy of the exact coordinates keep unwanted guests out better even than by force of arms, and has for well over a hundred years. So the fortress stands, protecting the most vital secret in the Empire, defended by legions of the best troops possible. War, however, is a fickle god at best. Plans go awry at the best of times and even those who would keep secrets safe play a hand in delivering them unhindered to their enemy…

- Private Journal of General Freja Covell
23 years after the Dalliance Affair



To say that the officer who marched down the metallic floor of the corridor was fuming, perhaps even storming, would undoubtedly be an understatement. Each booted step sent a ringing stomp that sang of frustration and warnings that it could be placed up any person’s back-passage should they cause those steps to halt. Such was General Covell’s fury at the decision that he had just been informed of by High Command.

Covell turned down another forked corridor, heading towards the command center of the Roma Citadel, as it was known, and just about ran over a pair of technicians. One glance at whom they had bumped into and the look on his face had the pair scrambling away and coming to a stiff attention. Covell barely cursed them, not even slowing his pace. Other junior officers and off duty personnel who happened to be in the corridor as well quickly stepped to the side and came to a parade ground worthy position. Covell’s eyes however were locked on the entrance to Central Command, guarded by two white-armored troopers, like a crazed bull chasing after a matador’s red cape.

The troopers snapped to attention as Covell passed and entered into the command room. The room itself was dark, the overhead lights dimmed so that the operators and ensign who worked over the controls of the defences, sensors, communications, and other control panels could focus on their respective machines. At the very center of the chamber was a large hologram table over ten feet in length by four feet wide. It was a masterful piece of art, with imported Nalwood siding and the control panel was outfitted to shine vibrant golden chrome. Roma Citadel’s previous commandant had been a bit on the expensive side in his eccentric tastes, so when he’d been charged with graft and Covell had assumed the post most of his furnishings had been removed, but Covell had managed to keep the table, seeing as it was one of the best machines he’d come across, being able to command the fortress, any forces out in the field on the ground of Planet Caligula, and entertain communications with anyone with access to a holonet com number. And it was the latter most reason that Covell had stormed into the command center.

The general punched in a series of numbers and keyed for the encryption. Holographic letters appeared, glowing green. Please wait while your transmission is being sent… The message looped back and forth until it was finally interrupted by the face of a man that Covell rather detested, and that was on a good day. Today was not a good day.

“You’re interrupting a meeting General,� Moff Banston said. “So if you-.�

“Well in that case I don’t mind,� Covell interrupted. “I demand to know why you are having the 41st Legion transferred away from Caligula!�

“If you’d paid attention to your holonews general instead of whatever it is that amuses you, you might realize that there is a war going on,� replied Banston, keeping his tone light but threatening.

“And why exactly would you have the 41st, an elite unit of clone troopers, transferred away from one of the most vital points in the Thrashian Empire?� stormed Covell. “Are you ignorant or just that incompetent?� Those ensigns that might have been listening in on the general’s conversation with one of the most politically powerful Moffs in the Empire quickly went back to their usual business.

Moff Banston stared daggers at Covell. “I will remind you general that the post on Caligula is a state secret. With the Rebel forces on our doorstep in the Digor and Tettrea Systems we cannot afford to tie up units like the 41st in backwater stations like your own. They will be replaced anyhow, so why worry about it?�

Covell stared at the moff. “With the Rail Runners?� he asked, half in anger and half in disgust.

“No, just their first company,� said Banston, his face completely deadpan.

Covell about burst, but controlled it. Then he looked at Banston again and the dam quickly fell. “You want me to guard one of the most important secrets in the Empire with ONLY A SINGLE COMPANY OF REJECKS THAT MAKE UP THAT UNIT?!� roared Covell.

“They may not be clonetroopers general, but they are Imperial stormtroopers, trained just as rigorously,� said Banston, apparently not concerned with any shouting. “And since you won’t be needing it, Supply Commissariat cargo ships will be taking in the majority of your armored vehicles. I have a list that is being sent to you of everything that is being commandeered from your post.�

Covell was out of patience. “You’re leaving me with barely anything.�

“Oh come now general, you still have the citadel’s defenses and…well, you won’t have the defense fleet anymore…� Banston murmured. Covell looked up in absolute shock. As commandant of Roma Citadel Covell was in a unique position in that he commanded not only the ground forces on the planet, but also those that were stationed in orbit, which included the Allegiance-class Star Destroyer Valkyrie. With the Valkyrie gone Covell would be forced to rely upon a series of orbital defence platforms that had been the precursors to the Golan series, meaning they were so outdated as to be useful as pieces of scrap metal floating around in space.

“You bastard,� swore Covell. “You dirty, low-down, nerf-herding, Sith spawned-.�

“You have your orders General Covell,� Banston interrupted the tirade, his eyes narrowing in a distinct look of a person considering how best to skin a wild animal. “I expect you to fulfill them as High Command has ordered. You are not in a position that my system is in with this Rebel attack. Like it or not general we’re on the brink of defeat and we cannot afford to guard some lump of rock with some of our best resources when the situation is so dire. Good day to your general.� Without another word the holo image of Banston’s face disappeared with a message saying “Transmission Ended� looping across the air in its place.

“Damned fool,� cursed Covell. “Now is exactly the time when those forces should be here.�
Last edited by Thrashia on Tue Feb 16, 2010 8:33 am, edited 1 time in total.
"You served too long under Lord Vader, Captain. I have no qualms about accepting a useful idea merely because it wasn't my own. My position and ego are not at stake here."
-Grand Admiral Thrawn
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Re: Re-application

Post by Thrashia »

PART TWO


The voices did not shout, so much as reverberate throughout the hull of the ship. Like the vibration of beating drums, it rose and fell upon the ears like the tides of an ocean would beat the helpless, sandy shore. Those who were initiated into the Ways found it beyond beautiful. A pure expression of devotion to their Master and His Way. Those who could not Hear, those who would not follow the Way, found only soulless cries in their efforts to drown out the chants.

"Eck hakat durle khan! Soule mahn hakat khan! Dume nan hakat khan!"

"He shall show us the Path! He shall show us the Road! He shall slay the faithless, and their bodies be the stones!"

Sitting in exaltation amidst the other worshipers, the hulking warrior observed the technical readouts from the data banks around them. It was more of an alter of worship now, than a bridge. Candles and incense burned in small alcoves around the chamber. Massive numbers of severed body parts hung from the ceiling, spilling blood in pools of sacrifice.

Lord of the Host and His most exalted Champion of the Path, Gaiden Norr contemplated the information that played across a blood-streaked screen in front of him. Gaiden and his fleet of corsair ships were moving swiftly through the ether ways, traveling faster than light. This fleet was a weapon. A spear aimed at the heart of a feeble empire of men who had defied the Prophets when they had come bearing news of the Way. Gaiden Norr could not understand that defiance. It seemed foolhardy and beyond imagining. Who would even dare to defy Him? Who would dare to defy Gaiden Norr's Master?

They did. These...Thrashians.

But now their time was over. Their secrets were out. Converts from their captured armies had led Giaden Norr to the knowledge that he sought. How best could he harm them? How best could he cripple this empire that was, surprisingly, putting up a staunch defense. A defense that was in vain, to be sure, but staunch nonetheless. And now he knew everything he needed to know. It was there, on the planet known to the Thashians as Caligula, where he would find the information to allow Gaiden Norr and the Hosts of the Master of the Way to enter the home worlds of the Thrashians. With those worlds lost, their women and children enslaved or massacred, their feeble empire would break.

A cough turned Gaiden Noor's attention to his side. Standing there was an acolyte, wearing black robes stained with blood. Feral features that painted a picture of angst, fervor, and devotion made up the acolyte's once humanoid face.

"Great One, we are soon to arrive at this planet called Caligula," the acolyte rasped. It's voice had been shredded from yelling praise and exhortations to the Master of the Way. Such was how nearly all acolytes of the Way spoke.

"How soon?" rumbled Gaiden Norr's voice. Unlike the acolyte's voice, Gaiden Norr's was a deep, endless depth. Heat seemed to emanate from each word, like hot coals being stoked in a burning furnace.

"Within the hour, Great One," the acolyte bowed.

"Prepare my hosts," ordered Gaiden Norr. "We will spare nothing in our efforts here."

"As you command, so shall it be," the acolyte rasped.


[center]-=-=-[/center]


Planet Caligula

Captain Janek Barris sighed in exasperation as he looked over the assembled members of his infamous company, the Rail Runners. They were an elite unit, as far as their training was concerned. You would be hard pressed to find a better fighting non-clone unit in the entire Imperial Army; far as Barris was concerned. The only real problem, and the one that seemed to get the Rail Runners into the most trouble, was that their members had a serious problem with authority. If an officer wasn't a member of the Rail Runners, then the troopers ignored him. Even those officers assigned to the Rail Runners were ignored until they had served for a long time beside the troopers. Barris himself had had to prove himself worthy of their loyalty twice when he had first took command of the company eight years before. And now, after Sergeant Harkas had pissed off no one other than Moff Banston Creed himself, by destroying one of the Moff's favorite speeders, the Rail Runners were being posted to a backwater.

"Sergeant Harkas," Barris shouted. "Front and center."

"Yes sir!" The burly sergeant strode forward and came to stiff, parade ground attention. Sergeant Harkas had about four inches on Barris, but that wasn't intimidating. Barris had fought Harkas in a wrestling match right after he had been assigned to the Rail Runners. Surprising to the men and Harkas himself, Barris had beat the veteran sergeant in three minutes flat.

"You want to explain to me again, Sergeant, as to how exactly one of your thermal detonators ended up in the rear compartment of Moff Banston's luxury speeder?" Barris asked, not seriously expecting an answer.

"Not a clue sir," Harkas deadpanned. "I must have misplaced one during our retreat from Tettrea."

"Uh huh..." Barris considered him. He spoke quietly, so only Harkas could hear. "You know I could get your hide turned into a walking mat, right sergeant?"

"Yes sir, Captain," Harkas answered quietly back, an innocent look on his face.

"You're lucky that you are my best squad leader, or else I would send your ass via the mail to Moff Banston," Barris said. He raised his voice so all of the company could hear. "Since you seem to have a habit of losing your weapons Sergeant, the entire company will go through the next week by returning to weapons maintenance training."

The combined groans that issued from the company was humorous, but Barris managed to keep his face straight. It was unbecoming of stormtroopers to complain like that, but they weren't clones, and Barris knew that there was no real heart in such behavior. When the cards were down, the Rail Runners got the job done.

"Very well Sergeant, you may break the company down into squads and begin the first round of maintenance checks," ordered Barris. "Dismissed."

The entire company snapped its armored heels together and saluted as Barris walked out of the training hall and into the complex of tunnels and chambers that was Roma Citadel. He had to report to General Covell, the new commandant. It had surprised Barris when they had arrived earlier to note that there were hardly any other army units present. Less than a hundred personnel that were permanent garrison, but no other trained army units.

Barris walked up to the blast doors guarded by two regular army troopers, not stormies, and saluted. "Captain Barris to see General Covell."

"Enter," came a reply over the comms.

The troopers saluted as Barris walked through the doors, sliding open to reveal the Roma Citadel's command center. Banks of computer stations glowed every few feet. Technicians and ensigns with comlink headsets sat at each, looking busy. An older man wearing the rank tabs of an Imperial general stood over near the hologram table. Barris walked over and saluted.

"General sir! Captain Janek Barris of the Rail Runners reporting as ordered."

General Covell turned to face Barris. He seemed haggard and exhausted. But more than that, his eyes conveyed a strong sense of duty and belief. Even when tired near the point of falling over, the General seemed to be a towering, charismatic personality. Barris immediately liked the old dinosaur.

"Well, I suppose its about time you got here Barris," General Covell said. "Not that I'm exactly pleased to not see you."

"Indeed...sir," replied Barris. "I understand that the 41st Elite was transferred from this posting only a week ago."

"Yes they were," replied Covell. "And now you and your company are practically all I have to defend this miserable rock."

"Sir? I took this to be a backwater posting. Light garrison duty," said Barris, confused.

Covell laughed. "Captain, do you honestly think that a citadel holding the most vital secrets of the Thrashian Empire is going to be left quietly alone? Now? This late in the war?"

"No..."

Covell turned to the holomap. "These invading bastards have pushed us back to a thin line of systems. They are now capable of launching a direct offensive at the Julian system. At us, here. And, as far as I am concerned, with as many prisoners of war as have been captured by those savages, they should know of this citadel by now, if not its exact purpose."

"Are we to expect an attack?" Barris asked, suddenly taking the general seriously.

"Oh, undoubtedly Captain," smiled Covell. "It is inevitable that an attack will come. But I believe that we have time to-."

Whatever it was that Covell believed that they had time to do was left unspoken as a dozen klaxon alarms blared to life. The babble of voices from the ensigns on duty rose to new heights of volume. Fear and worry pervaded those voices.

"Report!" growled Covell, marching over to the main screen.

"General we have enemy ships coming out of the warp in sector fourty-seven," an ensign reported. "The system defense fleet is responding but they're outnumbered four-to-one."

"Admiral Logris is on the line sir," the communications ensign called.

"Patch him through!" Covell ordered.

An elderly, but stately man appeared on the holo-comm. He grinned ruefully at Covell. "Well Freja, you were right. It's a pity that High Command didn't take your warnings seriously."

"You know as well as I do that those brass-plated assholes would never listen to a Cassandra like me," said Covell. "You should retreat James, you don't have the resources to take them on."

"On the contrary Freja, I will engage and fight to the last," Admiral Logris said, adding a bit of iron to his voice. "I am aware of what your citadel guards. We cannot win against them in space. But I can buy you time to prepare and perhaps kill enough of the bastards that they will not be able to land as many troops against you."

"Send a warning to the sector fleet!" Covell pleaded. "You can't throw away you and your mens lives!"

"I've already decided upon this course of action Freja, my old friend," smiled Logris. "My men know what we are going to do, and they nor I will be swayed from this decision. We will buy you time."

"James!" Covell roared as the link was cut.

"Communications with the Imperial Star Destroyer Magnus has been cut," the ensign reported, his voice soft. "They've raised their deflector shields."

Covell leaned forward on the console for a moment, his head bowed and his eyes closed. Barris watched the general. He and Admiral Logris had obviously been close friends. It was painful to know what the good admiral was about to do, but also inspiring in a very morose and bloody fashion. Barris cleared his throat.

"Your orders General Covell?" Barris said, coming to attention.

Covell turned and stared at Barris. His steely eyes measured the captain closely.

"Have your company defend this citadel to the last Captain," ordered Covell. "I will handle operations from here. I will be in contact with your communications man, and give you intelligence as it comes in. Prepare to meet the enemy."

"Yes sir! You can count on the Rail Runners!" Barris saluted and quickly left the command center, already pulling out his comlink to get in touch with Sergeant Harkas.

"We will have to count on you," Covell spoke towards the closed doors.
"You served too long under Lord Vader, Captain. I have no qualms about accepting a useful idea merely because it wasn't my own. My position and ego are not at stake here."
-Grand Admiral Thrawn
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Re: Re-application

Post by Derscon »

And here I was expecting a mentioning of Hermes. XD
We always have been, we are, and I hope that we always shall be detested in France. ~ Sir Arthur Wellesley, Duke of Wellington
"Everywhere you prod it, even with the shortest stick, the established system isn't simply corrupt, it's unequivocally putrescent. The law is created by demonstrable criminals, enforced by demonstrable criminals, interpreted by demonstrable criminals, all for demonstrably criminal purposes. Of course I'm above the law. And so are you." (L. Neil Smith) "
La perfection est atteinte non quand il ne reste rien à ajouter, mais quand il ne reste rien à enlever.
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