Invasion of the Protius
The behemoth battle cruiser, Protius, fled away from the swarm of mutalisks, its neo-steel armor plating had sustained extensive damage already. Large holes in its armor had been creating a vacuum that further slowed the Protius down. On the bridge, forty three year old General Eric Stark sat in his command chair barking orders. He was a tall man but built very well, he had jet black hair except two gray streaks just above his ears running all the way around. "Fire all laser batteries on our aft six o'clock." Stark barked, his voice hoarse and scratchy, "and launch the wraith squadrons, Valkarie and Zeus." A private quickly relayed the orders to the rest of the ship. "Valkarie squadron and Zeus Squadron, man your fighters and prepare for launch. The ship shook as the aft laser batteries let loose another volley into the enemy ranks. The radar showed that three of the twenty-four had been destroyed. A second shudder followed the first as the fighters exited the ship and began to fight the enemy. "May god be with you." Stark whispered.
Colonel William Hunt and his wraith, Valkarie one soared through space as butter through a hot pan. His call sign was simple... "Odin," the leader of the mythical Valkarie. By legend the Valkarie were Odin's' fighting force, sent down to do his bidding. The ironic thing about the legend was that all of Odin's' Valkarie were female, as were all the Valkarie in his squadron. But by his count he had already lost three of his eighteen. "Not good odds," he thought. "Alright ladies, fall back to mark one-eight-six and form attack formation "Hades one-six"" The fifteen ships soared away from the enemies only to turn around and start the attack run. Their formations was that of a "V" heading right at the enemy. Fifteen twenty-five millimeter laser fighters released their volleys at the swarm of mutalisks. Soon they were dropping like flies each having their wings shredded or heads blown away. Soon they were in full retreat, but the damage had been done to the squadron, twelve of the original eighteen had been destroyed or were D.S.I. (Dead in space) "Come in Protius, this is Colonel William hunt of the attack squadron Valkarie." Odin reported. "Request permission to return, I repeat request permission to return." "Permission to return granted Odin, welcome home."
"Repairs are underway on decks one through seventeen, twenty to twenty-six and thirty two to cargo bay twelve on deck thrity-nine. Were running at twenty-five percent efficiency," the first officer reported. His name was Edward Banks, and he was thirty-one but looked to be twenty-five. He had dark brown hair, deep hazel eyes and stood about six foot and carried himself gracefully despite his size. "Good, how long before we can expect a second attack?" Stark questioned. "It is not known sir," banks replied, "but we should be able to make an adequate retreat." "WE WILL NOT RETREAT!" Stark growled, anger rising in his voice. "We will rendezvous with a battalion of Valkarie which will then lead us to a strike force of battle cruisers." "But General, we should retreat." Banks began to protest. "WE WILL NOT!" Stark roared, nearly yelling, "THOSE ARE MY ORDERS AND THEY STAND!!!"
The Zerg cerebrate, its large bulbous body, a sickly ed pale, what could be considered sweat rolled off the larvae creature in large droplets. The creature by Terran names was Fenris, and his role for the over mind was to track down and destroy his enemies, the enemies of the over mind. "The over mind requires that we send mutalisks, guardians, scourges and queens out into space to find the human attack force. It must be done"
They had run into the Valkarie squadron that would lead them to the fleet... Literally. Slowly the battle cruiser, Protius, drifted into the wreckage of the squadron, hundreds of ships, most destroyed but others salvageable drifted silently through space. "Send out drop-ships to recover the salvageable crafts, if there are any survivors get them to sick bay on the double." General Stark ordered. Minutes passed, which in turn became hours and still no news came of survivors. Untill an alarm blared on the bridge. Red lights flooded the decks, and an automated voice began to drone out a continuous message. "Alien entities on board! Repeat alien entities on board, thirty-six in cargo bay twelve and breaching hallway." "Open a channel to all decks!" Stark barked in full military mode, "Alien forces have invaded the Protius, lock and load.... Give em' hell! That's an order!"
Hunts adrenaline was racing, he was getting armored up in his standard issue CMC-300 powered combat suit, built for marines. It was heavy but it would do. Next he grabbed his eight-millimeter-c-fourteen Gauss rifle and eight clips, each magazine holding ninety rounds. A marine next to him had just slapped in a fresh mag when the barracks door exploded open. Through it stepped a monstrous beast, standing four feet high, its bipedal shape was supported by a short barbed tail. For front arms, the creature had two razor sharp sickles and a maw full of teeth. "A zergling..." Hunt realized, "Oh Shit!" That's when the monster made its move. He dashed foreword and jammed its sickles into the the marine next to Hunt. Blood squirted all over hunts face, nearly making him vomit. The creature, with the marine attached then began to writhe and slash tearing the marine apart, sending internal organs and mass amounts of blood all over the room. All Hunt could do was pull the trigger as he screamed. The machine gun clatter echoed into the hall and throughout the ship.
"Gunshots fired on deck twenty-seven, they seem to be heading up, towards the bridge!" a tech-man reported. "Clear the bridge and armor up." Stark ordered. The order was followed by the quick and controlled movement of the bridge crew, and soon it was just General Stark. He patently walked to his ready room just off the bridge. It was decorated historically with paintings on the walls depicting grisly battles. Opening his closet, he pulled out his battle gear, its ancient metal was polished and shining. It was a family heirloom, passed down through his family originating from earth, their home planet. He was told by his father that it was Roman, or from Spain. He was also given and ancient sword, a blade about three feet long with a magnificently designed handle. Its blade was made of steel and was razor sharp. Unsheathing it he then made his way out onto the bridge and into the halls.
Hunt had made it out of the barracks after blowing away the Zergling. Down every hall Hunt turned there was nothing but death. Finally he turned down a hallway to find a man in what looked to be a set of roman armor hacking at a group of Zerglings. "General!" Hunt screamed, getting the wrong reaction. The general turned his attention to Hunt, distracting him just long enough for the zerglings to make their advance. Two razor sharp sickles cut the general in half, coating the hallway in blood and organs. "You bastards!" Hunt screamed, opening fire on the zergling group. The subsonic shot ripped into the flesh of the beasts, sending a spray of green blood out the back. Before he knew it, Hunt was firing a full mag into the hallway. Soon though his mag ran dry and he was left with nothing but adrenaline. "I need to get the fuck out of here." He thought turning away from the gory scene.
Banks was in the engine room, helping fend of a zergling force when a group of hydralisks burst through the hull and sliced into the subspace engine. Green light flooded the room as the reactor went unstable. "Oh god!" was the only thought Banks could muster before the reactor went critical and exploded. The explosion ripped the entire ship into pieces sending bodies and molten metal drifting through space.
Deep in space, the Zerg cerebrate was pleased noting that every living being on the Protius was killed.
Hunt drifted through space in a cryogenic tube. His bio-signs stable. His course was the colony closest to him. There the power in the tube would automatically dock him with the station there. Dreams flooded Hunts mind as he drifted through space, dreams of death, blood and carnage, with him at the top of a mound of Zerg bodies.
The behemoth battle cruiser, Protius, fled away from the swarm of mutalisks, its neo-steel armor plating had sustained extensive damage already. Large holes in its armor had been creating a vacuum that further slowed the Protius down. On the bridge, forty three year old General Eric Stark sat in his command chair barking orders. He was a tall man but built very well, he had jet black hair except two gray streaks just above his ears running all the way around. "Fire all laser batteries on our aft six o'clock." Stark barked, his voice hoarse and scratchy, "and launch the wraith squadrons, Valkarie and Zeus." A private quickly relayed the orders to the rest of the ship. "Valkarie squadron and Zeus Squadron, man your fighters and prepare for launch. The ship shook as the aft laser batteries let loose another volley into the enemy ranks. The radar showed that three of the twenty-four had been destroyed. A second shudder followed the first as the fighters exited the ship and began to fight the enemy. "May god be with you." Stark whispered.
Colonel William Hunt and his wraith, Valkarie one soared through space as butter through a hot pan. His call sign was simple... "Odin," the leader of the mythical Valkarie. By legend the Valkarie were Odin's' fighting force, sent down to do his bidding. The ironic thing about the legend was that all of Odin's' Valkarie were female, as were all the Valkarie in his squadron. But by his count he had already lost three of his eighteen. "Not good odds," he thought. "Alright ladies, fall back to mark one-eight-six and form attack formation "Hades one-six"" The fifteen ships soared away from the enemies only to turn around and start the attack run. Their formations was that of a "V" heading right at the enemy. Fifteen twenty-five millimeter laser fighters released their volleys at the swarm of mutalisks. Soon they were dropping like flies each having their wings shredded or heads blown away. Soon they were in full retreat, but the damage had been done to the squadron, twelve of the original eighteen had been destroyed or were D.S.I. (Dead in space) "Come in Protius, this is Colonel William hunt of the attack squadron Valkarie." Odin reported. "Request permission to return, I repeat request permission to return." "Permission to return granted Odin, welcome home."
"Repairs are underway on decks one through seventeen, twenty to twenty-six and thirty two to cargo bay twelve on deck thrity-nine. Were running at twenty-five percent efficiency," the first officer reported. His name was Edward Banks, and he was thirty-one but looked to be twenty-five. He had dark brown hair, deep hazel eyes and stood about six foot and carried himself gracefully despite his size. "Good, how long before we can expect a second attack?" Stark questioned. "It is not known sir," banks replied, "but we should be able to make an adequate retreat." "WE WILL NOT RETREAT!" Stark growled, anger rising in his voice. "We will rendezvous with a battalion of Valkarie which will then lead us to a strike force of battle cruisers." "But General, we should retreat." Banks began to protest. "WE WILL NOT!" Stark roared, nearly yelling, "THOSE ARE MY ORDERS AND THEY STAND!!!"
The Zerg cerebrate, its large bulbous body, a sickly ed pale, what could be considered sweat rolled off the larvae creature in large droplets. The creature by Terran names was Fenris, and his role for the over mind was to track down and destroy his enemies, the enemies of the over mind. "The over mind requires that we send mutalisks, guardians, scourges and queens out into space to find the human attack force. It must be done"
They had run into the Valkarie squadron that would lead them to the fleet... Literally. Slowly the battle cruiser, Protius, drifted into the wreckage of the squadron, hundreds of ships, most destroyed but others salvageable drifted silently through space. "Send out drop-ships to recover the salvageable crafts, if there are any survivors get them to sick bay on the double." General Stark ordered. Minutes passed, which in turn became hours and still no news came of survivors. Untill an alarm blared on the bridge. Red lights flooded the decks, and an automated voice began to drone out a continuous message. "Alien entities on board! Repeat alien entities on board, thirty-six in cargo bay twelve and breaching hallway." "Open a channel to all decks!" Stark barked in full military mode, "Alien forces have invaded the Protius, lock and load.... Give em' hell! That's an order!"
Hunts adrenaline was racing, he was getting armored up in his standard issue CMC-300 powered combat suit, built for marines. It was heavy but it would do. Next he grabbed his eight-millimeter-c-fourteen Gauss rifle and eight clips, each magazine holding ninety rounds. A marine next to him had just slapped in a fresh mag when the barracks door exploded open. Through it stepped a monstrous beast, standing four feet high, its bipedal shape was supported by a short barbed tail. For front arms, the creature had two razor sharp sickles and a maw full of teeth. "A zergling..." Hunt realized, "Oh Shit!" That's when the monster made its move. He dashed foreword and jammed its sickles into the the marine next to Hunt. Blood squirted all over hunts face, nearly making him vomit. The creature, with the marine attached then began to writhe and slash tearing the marine apart, sending internal organs and mass amounts of blood all over the room. All Hunt could do was pull the trigger as he screamed. The machine gun clatter echoed into the hall and throughout the ship.
"Gunshots fired on deck twenty-seven, they seem to be heading up, towards the bridge!" a tech-man reported. "Clear the bridge and armor up." Stark ordered. The order was followed by the quick and controlled movement of the bridge crew, and soon it was just General Stark. He patently walked to his ready room just off the bridge. It was decorated historically with paintings on the walls depicting grisly battles. Opening his closet, he pulled out his battle gear, its ancient metal was polished and shining. It was a family heirloom, passed down through his family originating from earth, their home planet. He was told by his father that it was Roman, or from Spain. He was also given and ancient sword, a blade about three feet long with a magnificently designed handle. Its blade was made of steel and was razor sharp. Unsheathing it he then made his way out onto the bridge and into the halls.
Hunt had made it out of the barracks after blowing away the Zergling. Down every hall Hunt turned there was nothing but death. Finally he turned down a hallway to find a man in what looked to be a set of roman armor hacking at a group of Zerglings. "General!" Hunt screamed, getting the wrong reaction. The general turned his attention to Hunt, distracting him just long enough for the zerglings to make their advance. Two razor sharp sickles cut the general in half, coating the hallway in blood and organs. "You bastards!" Hunt screamed, opening fire on the zergling group. The subsonic shot ripped into the flesh of the beasts, sending a spray of green blood out the back. Before he knew it, Hunt was firing a full mag into the hallway. Soon though his mag ran dry and he was left with nothing but adrenaline. "I need to get the fuck out of here." He thought turning away from the gory scene.
Banks was in the engine room, helping fend of a zergling force when a group of hydralisks burst through the hull and sliced into the subspace engine. Green light flooded the room as the reactor went unstable. "Oh god!" was the only thought Banks could muster before the reactor went critical and exploded. The explosion ripped the entire ship into pieces sending bodies and molten metal drifting through space.
Deep in space, the Zerg cerebrate was pleased noting that every living being on the Protius was killed.
Hunt drifted through space in a cryogenic tube. His bio-signs stable. His course was the colony closest to him. There the power in the tube would automatically dock him with the station there. Dreams flooded Hunts mind as he drifted through space, dreams of death, blood and carnage, with him at the top of a mound of Zerg bodies.