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First few pages, First steps of humanity into space and the wars that follow. |
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Terra - 2150 He stood in the center of the room, staring at the door before him. It was heavyset steel, 6 inches thick, he’d seen it when he walked in. He was in a dome shaped room, the roof 20 feet high at the center, leaving some room for his 15 foot, broad frame, made bulkier still by the thick power armour he wore. His face was hidden by a helm, intricate in its design, matching the suit below it. The majority was red, with black trims tracing the path his veins would be, overlaying his armour like a web. His visor was black on the exterior, however the interior was feeding information constantly within, distance, temperature, his own heart rate, muscle fatigue, injury status, ammunition levels, everything he needed to know. It flitted before his sharp green eyes in micro-seconds, all he needed to absorb, analyse and understand the information. Yet little was happening currently, scarce new information feeding through in this steel room with its steel door. He was begging to anger. He could understand why he was here, had considered the possibility if never truly expecting such stupidity. He had contingencies in place, plans upon plans, every avenue covered. He was technically in a prison, but he wasn’t trapped, not by any means. He sighed deeply, disappointed at the path events had taken, things could have been different, should have been. Yet now, few options remained, lives would likely be taken, war would begin, short though it may be, billions of hung in the balance, all because of the arrogance of humans. He may be able to salvage the situation, to save them. He doubted it... Terra Orbit - 24 Hours Earlier “Emperor, I must insist upon an escort, a man of your stature and importance deserves one at the very least.” That voice, harsh and grating, like a man speaking through a mouthful of rocks, was Lord Commander Emerath, leader of the 1st Fleet of the Dominion of Man, closest advisor of the Emperor. He was angry, and it showed, he paced the room like a caged tiger, his 12 foot frame tense, his massive fists, covered in white power armour, clenched and relaxed over and over. “It’s been over 100 years since you set foot on Terra, relations have never been good since we left, it would be foolish not to take an escort” he growled, his face locked into a frown as the telltale muscles in his jaw clenched. He turned and stared at the Emperor intently with his sharp brown eyes, waiting for a response. As soon as he saw the Emperors face though, he knew he’d pushed it too far. “Do you take me for a fool?” Alvaron said quietly, a dangerous tone of voice. His green eyes stared back, penetrating Emerath to the core, seeming to see straight into him. The commander suppressed a shiver of fear, he knew he’d pushed too far, spoken too hastily. “No my lord, of course not, I just think you expect too much from them, I meant no offence.” He replied quickly. The effect was instantaneous, and the Emperor nodded with a small smile, “I know, but if I return with a war party, armed to the teeth, I will look like an invader or a coward, and I can afford neither.” He paced the large room slowly as he walked around the large steel table that dominated the room, ignoring the holoscreens on the walls around him, all blank except for the sign of the Dominion. “We need the Terrans now, we need their soldiers, their manpower, as weak as they are currently, with the technology we can provide they could become the backbone of the Dominion, and I cannot afford hostilities, no, I will go alone.” Emerath nodded slowly, understanding. “As you wish, however I will keep the fleet onstation, in orbit above the planet, if you call, I’ll have boots on the ground within the minute.” Alvaron nodded, allowing him this concession. “Notify the bridge, I’ll head in via striker pod, have them make the preparations.” Emerath nodded and departed, leaving the Emperor alone to his thoughts. The Emperor’s mind was a whirlwind, a hurricane of thoughts tearing through more rapidly than a regular mind could even comprehend. A thousand ideas, a hundred scenarios, memories, plans, all fighting for supremacy in his mind. He had to concede that Emerath was right in one respect, diplomatic relations between the Dominion and the Terran Federation were far from ideal. One hundred years ago he’d left, genetically altered soldiers, workers and scientists, his superior technology and powerful spacefaring vessels. All things the Terrans needed, all things he had refused to give them. His reasons were sound, they couldn’t be trusted with the power those technologies would give them. Mankinds skill at wanton death and destruction was appalling, their ability to kill one another on enormous scale, rather than work together was astounding. Yet finally, after thousands of years of war and disunity, they had managed to come together, now when he most needed them, they may finally be ready. The Emperor strode through the corridors of his flagship, Prometheus, his heavy footsteps echoing as his magboots thudded into the steel floor. Soldiers saluted, and others hugged the walls as he passed. He cut an impressive figure, towering above all others, twin energy axes on his back, each handle 8 feet in length, the blades adding another two feet, and twice that on width. Those who had seen him wield them spoke in awe of the sight, all fury and power, death incarnate, majestic and merciless, he was unstoppable. Alvaron thought little of it as he glanced out the bulkhead windows as he passed, admiring his homeworld. The other ships of the fleet seemingly floated in formation alongside the Prometheus, each one 2 kilometres in length, housing 3000 soldiers, battle hardened space marines, the Certo Caelestes, the hammer of the Dominion, the enforces of his wrath. Bristling with guns and sensors, with hangar bays set in the bellies of the ships housing hundreds of fighter drones, they were a fearsome armada. Several were scarred with the marks of battles fought and won, others yet unblooded in battle. Alvaron nodded in satisfaction at the sight, before returning his mind to other pressing matters. He stepped through the final bulkhead door into hangar bay D of the Prometheus, pausing a moment to take in the vast sight. The bay was vast, containing over 300 drones fighters, as well as another 40 striker pods. One of four bays in the ship, combined they could deploy 8000 men and 1200 drones within two minutes, a devastating amount of firepower. There was a fifth bay that contained transport and recovery vessels, but that was not often used as a deployment route. Alvaron stepped into the nearest striker, a large pentagonal pod made up of 5 segments. He entered the nearest segment, seated himself and waited. The launch came hard and fast, as the striker was fired out of a launch tube on the underside of the ship, reaching a velocity of 500m per second before it left the tube. The Emperor gripped the handles on the roof hard and engaged his magboots to steady himself, keeping himself steady as the striker was jostled about as it passed through the upper atmosphere. He tensed his legs as the thrusters kicked in to slow his decent, stabilisers on the side keeping the pod level. His decent slowed rapidly as he neared the surface, reading in his helmet feeding through information, altitude 5000, 3000, 2000, 1000, 500, until a soft thud announced his landing. He took a deep breath, this was it, the beginning of a new allegiance, the forging of a new empire. He relayed the control to deploy the striker through his implants, and the five doors opens outwards, from the top down. The doors lowered rapidly, overlapping to form a perfect circle around the pod, with the tips folding upwards to form a 6 foot high steel wall, intended to provide cover in combat deployments. What he was greeted with on the other side was hardly an ideal result. Soldiers poured forth from every nearby building, weapons levelled. His helmet feed went into overdrive, feeding him information on every soldier, distance, armaments both primary and secondary, armour evaluations, service records, ranks, everything, flitting before his eyes. He tensed, ready to reach for the axes, prepared to call for more strikers, laden with death dealing soldiers to protect their Emperor, drones to rain death from the skies. No. That wasn’t why he was here, and it wasn’t necessary yet. “Explain” he demanded. |
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