Codename: Renegade
The CIC's Most Wanted
His communications officer gave one last shriek, before the stacatto crack of his sidearm cut him short, spattering the crewman behind with blood, skull, and pieces of brain. After the thirty seconds or so of frantic throat-shredding screams, the bridge seemed almost quiet. The brain-smeared crewman looked at the earpiece the comms officer had tossed to the deck as he started screaming, looked at it as if it were some kind of deadly creature poised to strike. Sweat ran through his crewmates blood on his face, and the man's breath was coming in short gasps.
Captain George Foxton darted from the small podium his command chair occupied, and with a swift kick, sent the earpiece flying across the bridge into a bulkhead. He had no desire to hear whatever had caused his comms officer - Richard. His name was Richard - to go mad and blast his own head open. Turning to the blood-smeared crewman, he took him by the shoulders, and pushed him towards the secondary comms console "I need you to get me a channel open to the Vigilance!" he had to yell to be heard above the wailing alarms, the roar of detonations elsewhere on the ship, and the screams of his crew as they fought and died.
The man stood there, now staring fixedly at at the corpse of the comms officer. George felt for him, but he had no time. Drawing his arm back, he delivered a sharp slap to the othe mans face, smearing blood over his hand. The crewman turned to the Captain, his face pale beneath the blood "Dammit, hail the Vigilance! NOW!"
The man looked dazed for a moment, before nodding "A-aye s-sir...". George waited until the man had turned his attention to the comms controls before he turned back towards his command chair. His eyes skipped over the corpse of his first officer - Harry, friend of ten damn years, and a damn good officer - who had been the first casualty on the bridge. Something had risen through the deckplates in front of him, reached into his chest, and before George could move, his friend and first officer was dead, the blood seemingly sucked from his body. His killer had sunk back through the deckplates as sidearm rounds had spanged from the floor and bulkheads.
Through the cracked and faultering main viewscreen George could see the forward sensors view of the battle that had started so suddenly. The Nerimian ships were easily out maneuvering the few outnumbered ASC vessels, but the Athos still spat lances of laser-fire at the enemy. Further away, he could make out the blasts of the Imperial vessels firing. Slowly drifting into view was the bizarre ship that had dealt the Cains Memory such a critical blow - and had caused nightmares to walk the halls of his ship. It appeared to be a wooden, ancient nautical sailing ship! Against all probability, it was there, spewing arcane fire and heaven-knew what at his ship.
In the moments before it's attack, the ships sensors had identified it as being made of wood, and being filled to the brim with some kind of energy source... then they'd started firing at the Memory, and everything had gone to Hell...
The starboard bridge doors opened, and a grimy, blood-smeared bridge officer half-ran, half-fell through the door, blasting wildly back through the closing door with his rifle, teeth gritted, and a desperate shout issuing from his throat. In the corridor something screamed - a guttural, piercing scream, just as something crashed through the closing doors. It appeared a jumble of flesh, bone, and teeth. It thrashed, caught in the doors as the officer continued to blast at it with his rifle. George joined him with his pistol, as did the handful of other surviving bridge crew.
The thing pulled itself free of the door, and stumbled back into the red-lit corridor. The doors shut, and George slapped the lock button, before spinning to face the newly-arrived bridge officer "What the Hell's going on out there? What's happening to my bloody ship?" he demanded of the man.
Between pants, he shouldered the rifle, and began speaking "It is Hell out there!" he cast an uneasy glance at the sealed door. It sounded like something was clawing at the other side of it "Sir, there are... things out there, I can't even begin to describe... corpses are getting up and eating people, the floors are melting and swallowing people.... I can't..." his eyes unfocused for a moment, then with a shudder, his training took hold again "The ASTC barracks is a slaughterhouse sir. Every trooper that was in there has been... torn apart by something. There are scattered handfuls of ASTC troopers left, and a few more crew members. Half the weapons points are gone, the others are being used.." he paused for a moment "and the starboard pylon has been... has been turned to stone."
For a moment, Foxton wondered if the officer had lost his mind. But they could get no reading or response from anything from over halfway along the starboard pylon. Starboard engines were dead, hence the drifting planetwards... "We can't stay here any longer. Give - " he was cut off by a direct hit on the bridge. The armoured shell held for a long moment under the sustained arcane assault, rattling the bridgecrew around like dice in a cup, before it began to give way. Flames washed over half the bridge, and Foxton found himself lying in front of the main viewscreen that had stopped his flight across the deck.
Cains Vengeance had shields, but whatever was being fired at them ignored them as if they weren't there at all, and the only ship he knew that stood any chance was the Vigilance...
Dragging himself to his feet, he dimly noticed that the starboard doors were starting to buckle under the assault of that thing outside, and that the officer with the rifle and most of the other bridge crew were pouring fire through the multiplying holes. But he had eyes only for the comms officer.
"S-sir, I have the V-Vigilance!" called the crewman, frantically working his controls "But we're l-losing the signal. I-i-interference"
Foxton threw himself into his scorched command chair. His chair display told him the main viewscreen was offline - probably thanks to his impact with it - so he punched in the commands to bring up the link on his arm console. Moments later he was greeted with a jittery, shifting image of his friend since the Academy, and captain of what passed for Ayenee's flagship, the Vigilance.
"Alex, we need help. Most of the crew is dead, the rest are fighting for their lives.... this whole ship is a nightmare... we're crippled, and fighting nightmares made flesh... God, help us Alex!" Behind him, the door finally collapsed, and something burst onto the bridge. The shouts of his officers turned to screams as it cut into them.
"Alex, help me!"
***
With a shout, Captain-General Alex Coburn woke in bed. Sweat matted his greying hair, and soaked the sheets of his bed, making them cling to him. He was panting, and the echoes of his waking cry were fading in his cabin. But his friends cries never faded in his ears.
"Alex, help me!"
He ran a hand across his face, and drew a deep shuddering breath. Pulling the sodden sheets off of him, he swung his legs 'round on to the deckplate, not quite as easily as he'd have liked. For a moment he sat there in the dark, his friends desperate, bloody face filling his head, his last, pleading words loud in his ears. Then he pushed himself up, and padded to the sink, activating the small light above it. He very deliberately didn't look into the mirror. He was almost afraid of what he might see. Turning on the faucet, he splashed the cool water over his face, and swilled some around his mouth. Spitting it out, he lifted his head again, and met his blue eyes in the mirror.
There was nothing I could do! he silently screamed at his own accusing eyes By the time they hailed us, they were only moments away from a core breach! And we were taking heavy fire from the NDI... There was nothing I could have ------- done!
But still his own eyes stared silent, damning accusations at him.
He tore his gaze away, making his way to the shower. He already knew he'd get no more sleep tonight, not without the whisky. So, he may as well head to the bridge. At least when he was on duty, he could almost escape the silent damnations of Captain George Foxton.
Captain George Foxton darted from the small podium his command chair occupied, and with a swift kick, sent the earpiece flying across the bridge into a bulkhead. He had no desire to hear whatever had caused his comms officer - Richard. His name was Richard - to go mad and blast his own head open. Turning to the blood-smeared crewman, he took him by the shoulders, and pushed him towards the secondary comms console "I need you to get me a channel open to the Vigilance!" he had to yell to be heard above the wailing alarms, the roar of detonations elsewhere on the ship, and the screams of his crew as they fought and died.
The man stood there, now staring fixedly at at the corpse of the comms officer. George felt for him, but he had no time. Drawing his arm back, he delivered a sharp slap to the othe mans face, smearing blood over his hand. The crewman turned to the Captain, his face pale beneath the blood "Dammit, hail the Vigilance! NOW!"
The man looked dazed for a moment, before nodding "A-aye s-sir...". George waited until the man had turned his attention to the comms controls before he turned back towards his command chair. His eyes skipped over the corpse of his first officer - Harry, friend of ten damn years, and a damn good officer - who had been the first casualty on the bridge. Something had risen through the deckplates in front of him, reached into his chest, and before George could move, his friend and first officer was dead, the blood seemingly sucked from his body. His killer had sunk back through the deckplates as sidearm rounds had spanged from the floor and bulkheads.
Through the cracked and faultering main viewscreen George could see the forward sensors view of the battle that had started so suddenly. The Nerimian ships were easily out maneuvering the few outnumbered ASC vessels, but the Athos still spat lances of laser-fire at the enemy. Further away, he could make out the blasts of the Imperial vessels firing. Slowly drifting into view was the bizarre ship that had dealt the Cains Memory such a critical blow - and had caused nightmares to walk the halls of his ship. It appeared to be a wooden, ancient nautical sailing ship! Against all probability, it was there, spewing arcane fire and heaven-knew what at his ship.
In the moments before it's attack, the ships sensors had identified it as being made of wood, and being filled to the brim with some kind of energy source... then they'd started firing at the Memory, and everything had gone to Hell...
The starboard bridge doors opened, and a grimy, blood-smeared bridge officer half-ran, half-fell through the door, blasting wildly back through the closing door with his rifle, teeth gritted, and a desperate shout issuing from his throat. In the corridor something screamed - a guttural, piercing scream, just as something crashed through the closing doors. It appeared a jumble of flesh, bone, and teeth. It thrashed, caught in the doors as the officer continued to blast at it with his rifle. George joined him with his pistol, as did the handful of other surviving bridge crew.
The thing pulled itself free of the door, and stumbled back into the red-lit corridor. The doors shut, and George slapped the lock button, before spinning to face the newly-arrived bridge officer "What the Hell's going on out there? What's happening to my bloody ship?" he demanded of the man.
Between pants, he shouldered the rifle, and began speaking "It is Hell out there!" he cast an uneasy glance at the sealed door. It sounded like something was clawing at the other side of it "Sir, there are... things out there, I can't even begin to describe... corpses are getting up and eating people, the floors are melting and swallowing people.... I can't..." his eyes unfocused for a moment, then with a shudder, his training took hold again "The ASTC barracks is a slaughterhouse sir. Every trooper that was in there has been... torn apart by something. There are scattered handfuls of ASTC troopers left, and a few more crew members. Half the weapons points are gone, the others are being used.." he paused for a moment "and the starboard pylon has been... has been turned to stone."
For a moment, Foxton wondered if the officer had lost his mind. But they could get no reading or response from anything from over halfway along the starboard pylon. Starboard engines were dead, hence the drifting planetwards... "We can't stay here any longer. Give - " he was cut off by a direct hit on the bridge. The armoured shell held for a long moment under the sustained arcane assault, rattling the bridgecrew around like dice in a cup, before it began to give way. Flames washed over half the bridge, and Foxton found himself lying in front of the main viewscreen that had stopped his flight across the deck.
Cains Vengeance had shields, but whatever was being fired at them ignored them as if they weren't there at all, and the only ship he knew that stood any chance was the Vigilance...
Dragging himself to his feet, he dimly noticed that the starboard doors were starting to buckle under the assault of that thing outside, and that the officer with the rifle and most of the other bridge crew were pouring fire through the multiplying holes. But he had eyes only for the comms officer.
"S-sir, I have the V-Vigilance!" called the crewman, frantically working his controls "But we're l-losing the signal. I-i-interference"
Foxton threw himself into his scorched command chair. His chair display told him the main viewscreen was offline - probably thanks to his impact with it - so he punched in the commands to bring up the link on his arm console. Moments later he was greeted with a jittery, shifting image of his friend since the Academy, and captain of what passed for Ayenee's flagship, the Vigilance.
"Alex, we need help. Most of the crew is dead, the rest are fighting for their lives.... this whole ship is a nightmare... we're crippled, and fighting nightmares made flesh... God, help us Alex!" Behind him, the door finally collapsed, and something burst onto the bridge. The shouts of his officers turned to screams as it cut into them.
"Alex, help me!"
***
With a shout, Captain-General Alex Coburn woke in bed. Sweat matted his greying hair, and soaked the sheets of his bed, making them cling to him. He was panting, and the echoes of his waking cry were fading in his cabin. But his friends cries never faded in his ears.
"Alex, help me!"
He ran a hand across his face, and drew a deep shuddering breath. Pulling the sodden sheets off of him, he swung his legs 'round on to the deckplate, not quite as easily as he'd have liked. For a moment he sat there in the dark, his friends desperate, bloody face filling his head, his last, pleading words loud in his ears. Then he pushed himself up, and padded to the sink, activating the small light above it. He very deliberately didn't look into the mirror. He was almost afraid of what he might see. Turning on the faucet, he splashed the cool water over his face, and swilled some around his mouth. Spitting it out, he lifted his head again, and met his blue eyes in the mirror.
There was nothing I could do! he silently screamed at his own accusing eyes By the time they hailed us, they were only moments away from a core breach! And we were taking heavy fire from the NDI... There was nothing I could have ------- done!
But still his own eyes stared silent, damning accusations at him.
He tore his gaze away, making his way to the shower. He already knew he'd get no more sleep tonight, not without the whisky. So, he may as well head to the bridge. At least when he was on duty, he could almost escape the silent damnations of Captain George Foxton.
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