Chapter 2 - Lucifer Rising

Interlude

It'd been several days since the raid against Hiigara. Nothing new...some rest and things, myriad other boring things. The carrier had been detached from its force group, just when things had become rather interesting.

TIF Intel and Turanic raider clans had reported the Somtaaw command vessel, Kuun-Lan, had succumbed to unknown contagion. One of the clans had sent in a heavy cruiser and several arrays, of which had never reported back in.. Ever again.

The carrier would break away from the rest of the fleet with destroyer escort, taking with it several thousand RUs, 3 collectors and a controller. Its objective would be to investigate what happened to the raider fleet, report in, and if necessary either establish contact, or destroy "it", whatever "it" was.

After a long boring technical briefing, again all the pilots ended up in the bar, drinking watered down spirits, 'jet refusing to indulge, and for now merely gazing out the porthole into space. Everyone thought of him as...strange, but as one of the best pilots left other the Elite Guard pilots. Many were taking bets 'jet would be inducted into the Elite Guard sooner or later...he didn't care. Maybe he could work with more professional, efficient, elite persons, who were as good as he, or maybe better. He was sick and tired of shooting freighters and small-fry work...yes...he'd shot enough of every and anything out of the sky, piloted pretty much any and everything that fit into a carrier bay.

Life, war. Had become…Monotonous. Boring.

When did this all change? Why? There was no thrill left from the hunt. War had become boring. A game. Almost like play. He'd been desensitized to the most violent of its aspects, it did not bother or disturb him, and the death screams he heard. He did not cry at their deaths, nor did he laugh. They simply were…unlucky, in a way. Now what was there to do? There were few foes that could match him, and he hadn't met them in person yet…The Somtaaw acolytes possessed a weakness against capital ships, that and they were not designed to take punishment. The energy cannons now being made standard on all ships would make sure of that. Soon there would be no prey left. What had become of his morals? His superego? Perhaps now repressed as his ego lashed out in anger, projecting itself in the form of shooting out enemy strike craft.

Suddenly ; a time dilation. They were phasing back into hyperspace. A blue light above the door flickered...it was time to go. War beckoned. And he would heed.

Lucifer Rising

The carrier jumped out of hyperspace, and then came the escort, a heavy cruiser, 3 destroyers, 2 missile destroyers, and a myriad of assault and ion frigates, one by one the strike craft taxied off the deck and were catapulted by twin mag-rails into space.

A distress beacon went off. Taiidan Republican signal.

Perfect! A chance to pounce them while attacked...or something. Fleet Intel would love this. "All craft, new orders are to proceed to the distress beacon, it's a republican signature. See if there's anything worth taking or burning."

With that he engaged thrusters and headed off, grimly he looked around and began talking to his wingman in a stoic manner:

"Today we will reap another tally of kills. We will kill our traitor brethren, those that turned from the Emperor's light."

His wing mate replied:

"In the next world the emperor will forgive 'em."

He smirked in the cockpit, looking around and putting his helmet on, flipping down the dark black blast shield. A probe whizzed by and stopped near the origin of the distress beacon.

What the probe relayed to all vessels sent everyone into a shock, and made his jaw drop.

Oh my god...what the hell...is...

A giant fleet was swarming the Taiidan republicans, two carriers, one burning and about to be destroyed and 3 damaged heavy cruisers, and burning vessels left and right, wrecks trailing plasma, debris, and...bodies. Whatever was left of the republican fleet was fighting it out with Turanic and Somtaaw craft, which included as capital vessels, a Turanic Lord class carrier, plus ion array frigates and what looked like part of a Explorer Class command ship. Sellouts! Those Turanics were working with the enemy! He watched two Somtaaw acolytes fly together, one acolyte gracefully turning over, and in mid-space, in under 10 seconds, linking with the other.

Wow. Interesting...wait...what the...

They did not look Somtaaw. They did not broadcast any recognition codes. None of the attacking craft had any codes. They had weird...red...growths. All the craft had massive bio-readings...as if they were…alive!

Don't panic...don't panic...

One of the carriers exploded, damaging the other. Its armor cracked and became blackened, the pure white and turquoise blackened and charred, the once graceful craft pitted with breaches. The craft's guns fell silent, power going out onboard.

Suddenly The Turanic Carrier moved closer, raking the Taiidan carrier with twin ion beams, followed by a reddish pinkish beam.

Suddenly his comm was filled with screams, the chilling screams of the dead and dying.

The computer turned down the volume; yet the scream was still heard...the screams of dying, screams of

"BLOW US UP! BLOW US UP! KILL US NOWWWWWWWWWWWWW! I DUN WAANNA DII-"

And then silence.

The carrier had changed. Red growths began appearing...the carrier flight deck lights were snuffed out, then turned red. The carrier began spiraling, a awesome electrical effect flickering about the carrier, 4 interceptors nearby suddenly stopped, they too caught in some sort of transformation like their carrier.

The cycle completed.

The carrier was red, the flight deck was red, the formerly Taiidan vessel. Desecrated. How?!?!

One by one the other craft followed, the heavy cruisers pounding away until the end, the scars of ion beams suddenly vanishing, under reddish "skin" which began to heal.

And then one by one the ships began turning to face their new threat. The formerly Taiidan carrier began launching fighters, like the vessels around it, they too were deformed into some horrifying hell-thing. A nightmare...from the gates of hell.

What the hell had the Somtaaw done? What was this beast they had awakened? Idiots! Like all Kushans...were they always the ones that brought chaos to order? No time.

Suddenly his Comm came alive.

"Weeeeee looongggggg thirsssst knowledge weee live ..want......taiidaaaaaan...."

He flinched and nearly jumped out his seat.

By Sajuuk! What is this thing! It knows what we are!

"All craft, this thing's alive! I repeat, fall back! Admiral, I suggest hyperspace NOW!"

Admiral: 'Negative. You are to engage and destroy this threat. From here it does not look to be threatening. Destroy it or I will do such to you. Command out.'

Around him the destroyers moved into range and fired, quad-energy cannons pummeling through a fighter group, vaporizing and sending on to death a group of monster-Fiirkans...perhaps their souls would find peace in death.

"All squadrons, you heard /the/ man! Power up systems and prepare to go!"

All fighters and corvettes powered up engines and shot off as one, flying towards the enemy, a flickering and ebbing ion trail materializing behind the craft, creating a yellowish colored wake.

The fleets did not return fire. Until the strike craft proceeded to about 10 kilometers...

What followed next would be one of the most horrifying, yet strangely thrilling moments in his life.

Where there was once empty space, was filled with weapons fire, a giant melee between capital vessels creating a maelstrom of weapons fire, death to any fighter pilot who made the wrong mistakes.

Ion beams and energy spheres cris-crossed through space, rail slugs flying left and right, ion trails plainly visible as the imperialist strike craft went into melee, going into evasive, flying past enemy ships, delivering a occasional hit on the enemy craft, occasionally destroying a enemy.

It was the epitome of dog fighting. Slowly the squadrons became whittled down. Kudaark assault frigates scuttled rather then face infection. Destroyers fired away at beast frigates, destroying many in a purifying bath of plasma and positively charged ions.

"No!" he screamed. A ion beam went past his craft and took out his wingman. Bleh, just another loss. Another loyal soul commended to the emperor. He felt alive! Yes! He'd never been so afraid in his life, yet so alive! The thrill! A true adrenaline rush worked through his blood, driving him on, maneuvering his Kaark attack bomber with dexterity and skill, dodging ion cannon beams and flak with ruthless efficiency.

Suddenly the formation of enemy vessels coalesced. While disorganized he got a couple shots in. He was quite...agitated, he'd left his beloved and trusty Triikor behind, to get this sluggish machine. But then, at least he would be able to have /capital ships/ on his kill record. Fresh off the PDA the fighter proved quite responsive, only slightly better then a standard, older Kaark, with a few upgrades and design revisions, but otherwise the same bomber.

Flying in at a infected Taiidan Ion Frigate he fired a shot into the "bridge", sending up a tower of flame, firing 3 more plasma bombs into the vessel down the super-structure, the already weakened craft spiraling away from the rest of the beast flotilla and exploding, a sphere of plasma energy followed by a minor shock wave, eventually shimmering into a field of nothing and debris, followed by the cheers and "W00T!" of the crews of the imperialist craft.

But it was in vain. Enemy vessels had moved into sphere formation. There were too many. They were everywhere. And all of them seemed to have the "virus beam".

As one many red beams lashed out, their angry hues contrasting to the paint of the imperialist vessels. In a repeat of before, the Heavy Cruiser and remaining escorts slowly became infected; the carrier had lucked out, all infection beams had been exhausted before the carrier could be touched. The "Immortal Emperor" had protected its namesake starship.

Turning his craft around he fired up the afterburners and headed back to the carrier, diverting as much power as he could to the engines. Shutting down the bomb launchers. Diverting power to engines. Lowering life support to 80%. The light-headed feeling and the hard rush sensations were replaced by weak desperation...he'd seen enough. Now he wanted out. He wanted to go home, to see family and friends. All thoughts were replaced by self-preservation.

He didn't look to see his craft crashing into the flight bay, into the safety net and impact-absorbent material at the rear of the carrier.

He heard the hum of the hyperspace engine, the sounds of AA cannons and explosions, and all was well. He slumped forward onto the dashboard and fell into a disturbing, unhappy sleep.