AN: Ownership rules as usual. I should mention as well we were inspired by Game of Thrones, Dune, Warhammer 40,000, Warhammer Fantasy, Spore, and Starbound to right this.
The shuttle was getting ready to take off, the engines were fuelled and Rick Sanchez had all of his scanners and gear on board. With that, they could track each individual man and Xenomorph on board the derelict and also liberate the spice store inside.
Lord Stark marched forward in full power armor, minigun mounted on his back. Rooster followed in light armor while Volibear made up the rear. It was time to take on the Xenomorphs, and keep them from spreading to other places.
From a viewing area, Bran Stark, the second youngest of the Starks, watched this all happen, staring at the platoon. He was a young man, energetic; but he lacked Rob's overwhelming dedication to lordship or Arya's obession with combat. For the most part he was just content to climb and do well enough in school and combat lessons.
Though his eyes drifted to the canisters of Blue "Raven" Spice that Rick was using to power his equipment. Users of the Blue spice were said to be able to see the future, guide starships on instantaneous fold space journeys over billions of lightyears. His thoughts often drifted to such things.
Spice...a powerful substance, which certain colors more valuable...like the Purple 'Royal' Spice, only available to a select few, the King among them. What exactly the royal spice did was a matter of rumour and myth, the current king hoarded it to a degree which few kings had been able to.
Young as he was, Bran had strange feelings about his own destiny. He'd always had odd dreams and loved strange stories, but something about the recent events . . . they just gave him a chill he couldn't explain
And the ravens...he always saw ravens, notably one with three eyes...
What did it mean?
The sound of the ship taking off caught his attention again, and he watched in awe as it took of into the black, starry abyss.
For the first time since he was a child, Bran began to pray for his father to return home.
While Ned and his valiant crew zoomed off to a Xenomorph infested ship.
It was all...intimidating to think about. The hostile aliens were all extremely dangerous for a variety of reasons, from love of battle, hope for good hunting, or just sheer animalistic rage.
It felt like there was danger around every corner, and that things like the Xenomorphs, Orks, Tyranids and Yatjua would never lose their focus; while sentient peoples would only get lost in their little squabbles.
Spice and all its variants allowed the development of space travel on an interstellar scale, before the Long Night. Maybe it would be civilization's downfall.
Hard to say nowadays. For now, things seemed to be mostly quiet in the stars...
...But for how long?
Space was quiet, but it was not peaceful. Lord Ned always hated Space travel. It was one thing to climb on a cruiser with his family, it was another to jump into a rust bucket like this with just one wall between him and the cold of space.
His family were what drove him, and gave him the courage to overcome his fears. And to hide his fears for the sake of his men.
Clegane sat alone in a corner of the shuttle's loading bay, not worse but not any better than a Xenomorph.
Ruthless, violent, and terrible...no wonder K. Rool valued him.
Much of Gregor's history was cloudy. Born to the minor house Clegane, he grew fast and large, and with it his infamous temper. Rumor had it he even burned his younger brother's face over a minor incident. The temper issues were not helped by the constant headaches Gregor possessed.
In short, The Mountain was a dangerous man, who even went training in one of 's Death Worlds, Jumanji. Out of the 100-warrior unit he was part of, only he survived.
Even more worrying however was K. Rool's personal blade, Agent 47. His history was even murkier, with only a few scraps of information given to him by Rick Sanchez.
Supposedy he was custom made in a laboratory to be the perfect assasin. He first made his mark for a shadowy agency when he took out a veteran Yatjua hunter on Death World Subnautica.
At one point he ended up destroying the agency he worked for, but not before killing Van Pelt on Jumanji; then King K. Rool's favoured assassin. But K. Rool was not upset by that: If Van Pelt was killed by another assassin, then that assassin was simply better, and more worth having around. 47 was then allowed into K. Rool's inner circle as well...a place where only the best of the best were allowed.
Him and Relius were a lethal team, with the mad scientist helping the Hitman build new and creative ways to kill himself, or build more effective and innovative disguises. It had been 47 afterall who freed Relius from Death World Salusus Secundus, home of the ruthless Sardaukar. Imprisoned for various crimes, the mad, yet oddly clam and polite, scientist was busted out and given pardon...providing he gave service to the king.
But as bad as 47 could be, Pridak could be worse. The Military General of the entire royal army, the biomechainal being was a Barraki (an ancient term meaning 'warlord), and was once considered to be someone 'handsome'...and with that came a lot of pride. Then a great accident happened, mutating him into the hideous, amphibious shark-like form people knew of today. Not to mention under his calm and practice demeanor was a vicious, bloodthirsty psychopath...
But enough ruminating now. The ship was coming into sight of their destination.
Over the loudspeakers, Rooster merrily announced their arrival. "Humans and aliens, this is your pilot speaking. Air Rooster is on rout to the derelict ship. Our ETA is thirty seconds, so prepare for pressurization and boarding. Please keep your arms and feet away from any Xenomorphs."
Rick cut in on Rooster's broadcast, "She looks-urp-like a Cornerian vessel; very good quality. I'm pulling up her ID and name now!"
Rick began to work on identifying. He may be a mercenary, true, but he did admire Lord Stark, in his own way. Guy stuck to his convictions, for better or worse.
True Ned wasn't the highest paying employer Rick ever had. K. Rool, the fat bastard, could offer ten times as much.
However ,Ned was the first guy that Rick felt was safe to leave Morty with. After the thing with King Jellybean on Gourmet World, that was more important than ever.
Rick smiled as the scanners came up, "its a guild ship we're looking at!"
Ned sighed. "So even they have fallen victim to the scourge...prepare to board and exterminate."
Rick nodded as he moved the ship into position.
Time to kill some Xenos.
Ned turned to his men as the shuttle docked with the ship and the machinery clicked and clanked.
"This is a guild ship, the captain will have ripped it apart and rebuilt it a hundred times to customize it for each job. We set up a perimeter and heavy weapons in the cargo bay and we don't sweep ahead until Rick gets schematics."
Sylvanas joined Ned's side and looked to Clegane. "Lord Stark was interested if you'd volunteer to take point, Ser Mountain."
Cleagne stared at her, then strode forward. "I will scout ahead."
No use agreeing with him, Ned knew. Might as well let him do as he wishes. Besides, he would kill any Xenomorph he saw, which was the entire point.
The lights were completely destroyed in the loading bay. Laser security turrets had their power sources and targeting systems ripped apart.
Worst of all was that damp, mold smell in the air. All the hallmarks of Xenomorph activity. As a species they didn't need technology. Any new problem was solved by impregnating new hosts and using their DNA to create new variants .
And they were quite lot of variants...but they all shared several things in common.
Dangerous, vicious, crafty, hard to kill...and nightmarish to the core.
And these were just one of the MANY savage species out there in the void of space.
Gregor stomped over the blood stained floor, holding his massive sword and equally massive handheld shotgun.
Everyone in the room had seen the variety of Xenomorphs. The Predalien only being one of the most famous .
In fighting on Lustria's moon, Ned had seen Xeno-orks; psychotic bullet sponges with teeeh. On Ark, Sylvanas had purged the southern deserts of Dino-xenos. On New Vegas Rooster battled ghoul Xenomorphs who could grow stronger and regenerate from radiation. Zeal's fighters even had reports of Xeno-wyverns, which were practically the stuff of nightmares, to put it VERY lightly.
And on and on the list went.
Volibear began setting down automatic turrets normally used to take down medium tanks. Sylvanas fires an arrow into a wall which released a burst of green light. "Clear!" She shouted as the scanner arrow sent data into her eyepiece.
There could be more than Xenomorphs on this ship. Xenomorph infestations often attracted Yatjua hunting parties, Tyranid gene stealers looking to one up them, Ork kommandos and more. It was like an infection that invited more infections. A disease that had to be cured before it escalated...and destroyed everything, even themselves...
Ned, his face grim with duty, marched forwards, ready to take on the monsters that would threaten his home, his people...his family.
Floating drones built by Rick flew in and started to weld shut the various air vents in the room. The handful of elite men he's brought along were dug in.
The beach head was established. "Rick," Ned demanded over the com link, "do you have the ships layout?"
"Let's see here..." Rick muttered as he uploaded the map to everyone about the area. "Yeah, a doozy here, but keep track of the map and you'll be fine...at least, in terms of knowing where you are, cant promise anything else."
"Your map is an incomprehensible pile of shit!" Shouted Rooster as he exited the shuttle, "did you draw this in MS Paint?"
"Shut it, broke back!" Rick snapped, "if Sylvanas can read it so can you!"
"What about crew numbers?" Ned asked
"Hmmm, hard to say..." Rick admitted. "Don't see anyone else on here right now...though I AM picking up hostiles." Rick read over the ship manifests. "Captain never kept track of crew numbers. But you're looking at a hundred guaranteed hostiles. None of them moving. Closer to the ships engines, hive resin blocks the scans. They're building better hives."
Rooster scoffed. "Well, I for one will NOT be an incubator." He cocked his gun. "Let's kill some fuckers."
"They're using heat and light from the engines to drive chenosynthesis; feed their queen and give her energy to make eggs, if they've gotten that far." Ned observed. "Rooster, Volibear, I don't want to fight them in the hive just yet. Make some noise once you find a good narrow corridor to funnel them in."
Both of the banner men nodded, knowing it would the best course of action. When fighting swans of any enemy, a good strategy was to funnel them into a narrow path, to make them easier targets, and to prevent getting surrounded.
That was where Ricks drones came in. Xenomorphs were highly flexible; their exoskeleton resembleing chain mail in many places. The result was they could fit anywhere they could get their head through.
The two men moved forward, with Clegane naturally moving to where fighting would be fiercest
The Clegane's family sigil was that of hounds...fitting due his fearsome, battle-ready nature. Like the hound of his family crest, Clegane was ready to kill all the time. Those three dogs had been killed bringing down a deadly predator on Death World Norsca. Gregor would suffer no such fate.
Already, he could hear the scurrying about of the aliens...
...In fact…
He thrust his sword through a sealed door and was rewarded with a screech. This was a cramped corridor with no back entrance, so Lord Stark would have his noise.
He pulled his blade back and opened the door, stepping back with satisfaction as the course of Xenomorph feel through, the acidic blood hissing against the floor.
One down, many more to go...and the commotion he heard told him they were coming.
While Clegane exalted in the kill, Volibear and Rooster prepared for the onslaught. "I'll take the heavy units," the ursine growled, firing up his flame thrower.
Rooster held up his pistols, "I'll keep the face huggers off you."
It went to hell when an ork Xenomorph crashed through a wall and knocked over Gregor like a bowling pin. The hideous creatures screeched in fury, moments before it was consumed by fire to prevent it from sporing. More traditional 'human' xenomorphs came following, but Gregor and Rooster wasted no times.
Rooster focused on shooting the face huggers, little things with a long tail and body like grasping hands. Alien queens produced thousands of these things per hour. More if the colony tapped into a silicon ore vein to farm.
They were the ones to impregnate living beings with a chest burster. They were fast and the slime on their bodies hid them from all but the most accurate scanners. Just another example of Xenomorph evolution.
And once on, they were impossible to remove, until they fell off...which they did once the egg was inside, which would soon hatch and burst painfully from the chest of the victim, and rapidly grow to adult size.
So they had to be taken out fast.
In the case of regenerating creatures like Space Marines or Orks, a host could survive chest bursting and serve as a multi use incubator. A fate Rooster would wish on very few. Speaking of which…
Clegane shoved his shotgun into the mouth of a xenomorph. He scowled under his helmet as he pulled the trigger. Behind him, he hardly felt the heat of Volibear's flamethrower through his armor. Under his feet, burned Xenomorph bodies crackled like kindling. The fire consumed all...all except him, with his specialized amour, covering him head to toe. It would take tremendous force to even pierce it.
Another xenomorph charged in. This one had six legs, it was smaller than the ones born from humans. A hormigaunt-xeno, born from a face hugger impregnanting a Tyranid.
The tyranid-morph used its superior agility to run along the walls and land on Gregor's back. There it opened its mouth and fired the proboscis characteristic of all Xenomorphs.
Gregor's eyes widened as he realized the thing had just hit the latch connecting his helmet to the rest of his suit. He was enraged. He reached back and seized the alien, yanking it off before it could try any real damage. He then, will all his might, smashed the creatures against a wall, splattering it. His armor deflected the acid.
Gregor cursed as he holstered his shotgun, using his armoured gauntlet to get the latch back into place. The thing was supposed to be idiot proof, battle proof. For the xenomorph to open it like that, it would have to hit the mechanism with a specific amount of force; down to the thousandths of kilograms per area.
His helmet was on, but his suit's HUD told him the vacuum seal was broken. Just great.
He took out his anger with his sword, slicing one Xenomorph from crotch to head.
He would have a 'word' with the last foolish mechanic who worked on his suit...yes.
Rooster reloaded is revolver, shoving speed loaders as fast as he could. Next to him, Volibear turned over his flame thrower and ejected the empty fuel tank. As the fires stopped, so did the Xenomorph tides.
Through the smoke and smell of charred flesh and burning acid, Rooster winced; grateful for the energy air filter rick had installed into his and Volibear's suits. Even the fumes from Xenomorph blood could cause painful death.
Then a pair of black, clawed hands thrust through the floor and dragged Gregor through it. A single word came to Rooster's mouth, "Praetorian."
Functioning as guards to the Queen and the hive, these Xenomorphs were exceptionally powerful and skilled, rearing someone of great power to take one on.
Fortunately, Ned and all those with him were such people.
Rooster reached for the specialty ammo on his belt, a nice set of explosive, armour piercing, incendiary rounds. He'd have to shoot through the joints of the Praetorian; he'd seen the frontal armour on their head crests resist missile strikes.
"There is a queen here," Volibear and Rooster spun around to see Ned Stark in power armour, holding a Valaryan void axe. "Take down the Praetorian and let us charge into the hive."
The couldn't say a word before Lord Stark jumped down after Gregor and the Preatorian.
Lord Stark...a man who led by example. Hard not to follow a man like that.
As such, he was soon followed by his men, into the dark...where dangers awaited.
One thing Ned truly believed was that the galaxy would not be inherited by the cruel. They might win short term gains, but those who watched their brothers and sisters backs would be the ones to take the day.
On the comms, Rick updated them. "Okay guys, you got a long service tunnel full of possible ambush spots; it's the shortest and shittiest way to the Queen's chamber." His voice faltered, filling for once with concern, "Uh, Ned, don't die. Catelyn will kick my ass if you do."
Ned could not help but crack a small smile at that. "Do my best."
Head down the cramped tunnels, Stark and the others were prepared for anything, as those monsters could pop out without a moment's notice.
Always be aware in the galaxy, or one would be dead.
Rooster stepped forward and grabbed something off the ground, Clegane's helmet. "He's alive," he inferred. "They're going to want him as a host."
"It's no less than he deserves," uttered Volibear darkly.
Ned looked at his two men, "And deal with a space marine xenomoprph hybrid?"
Volibear nodded. "True...best leave his death to something that won't leave anything behind."
A crashing sound caught their attention.
"And he ain't going down without a fight." Rooster noted.
Ned pressed a button on his armour's gauntlet, three glowing orbs floated out of a hidden pannel; providing lighting in the darkened, cramped corridor littered with broken machinery and holes chewed in the floor.
"They've been moving spice containers, "Volibear pointed out.
Indeed canisters of spice covered in slime and resin littered the floor, from the look of it they'd been dropped when Ned and his crew attacked the ship.
Rooster frowned. "The hell would they want spice for? They got no use for it? They only want to spread and evolve, not get high!"
Ned paused, thinking. Why WOULD they want the spice?
Xenomorphs were a silicon based lifeform. They harvested silicon from planet's crusts to build their hives and fuel to make eggs; but they reproduced through and fed on carbon based life. Their DNA was highly rigid and durable, they needed carbon-based life to copy, to change and evolve.
Were they now using the spice to change themselves? To guide their own evolution? The thought filled Ned with dread. "Rick, get some drones to pick up these containers of spice; analyze it as best you can."
"Drones on the way, boss!" Rick replied as the group moved forward.
As the drone moved out for their task, Ned and his team followed the sounds of battle. It was always easy to find Gregor like this.
And sure enough, upon reaching their destination...
The Praetorian had torn off one of Gregors arms, it's teeth were stained red from it. Gregor fought back like a rabid dog, slashing at it with his massive sword and cutting off part of its tail.
Suddenly the Praetorian lunged and pinned Clegane to the ground. A face hugger was crawling closer to the mad Space Marine.
Gregor snarled with animistic fury, never willing to give up until the bitter end. The face hugger readied to jump and latch...
...and was promptly shot dead by Rooster.
The loss of his arm was a minor thing. The wound to his pride would take longer to heal. Under 47's orders he couldn't kill them now, but his day would come.
Lord Stark swung his axe and hamstring the monster, right behind the Sylvanas readied an arrow and fired it right down the Praetorians throat.
The creature, wounded, staggered back, as Volibear tore through the ranks with his own weapons. The nest began to fall apart around them quickly.
Sylvanas notched a special arrow, a nuke arrow. Let loose, it slammed into a wall and burned a man sized hole right through it. Right into the queens chambers. Another nuke arrow from Sylvanas tore a hole in the Praetorians head.
As the corpse fell to the ground, a dark hiss could be heard.
The Queen was alert...and angry.
An Xenomorph Queen was a extremely dangerous and deadly creatures. Possessing extreme brute power and immense size, it was not to be trifled with casually.
The Queen was big, uglier than the Praetorian; able to live thousands of years if they didn't meet a violent end.
Filling the room was her egg sac, a vast translucent wet thing. Connected to the egg sac were thin tentacles that were burrowed into piles of spice
A nasty sight for all that looked upon it.
"Hey there, Ugly." Rooster causally spoke up.
The Queen simply snarled, ready for battle.
The Queen swung her tail around, crumpling Gregor 's breastplate like tin. The man roared in pain and hacked at the tail.
Volibear unleashed his flamethrower, scorching the egg sac, making the queen scream in pain
The Queen, seeing the eggs may be lost, decided to make these fools pay...directly. With that in mind, she detached herself from the sac and engaged them directly.
Her speed was impressive, sprinting she could outrun a cheetah and keep pace with most military ground vehicles.
So Ned did the obvious thing and jumped in front of her. He turned his power armor into overdrive and swung his axe
It all happened so fast it was hard to really grasp it. Ned swung hard and true, inflicting a damaging wound upon the Queen, and moving out of the way of the blood flow.
His axe struck behind her massive head crest, between the plates on her neck. His suits schematics all came up red.
Nothing was more dangerous than a wounded animal, so he swung his axe again and cut off her proboscus
Indeed, the Queen, despite the damage, was not quite done just yet. Blind with pain and rage, she swatted Ned aside. The armor kept him alive and mostly intact, but the blow still HURT.
Sylvanas took her chance, though, to use her arrows on the wounded beast.
This arrow was special, made just for the queen. It was acid proof, adamantium tipped and designed to deliver compressed water into her bloodstream.
The alien blood reacted explosively with the water, exploding the queen's head like a melon at a shooting range
The body of the beast staggered a bit, before collapsing into an ugly heap, allowing everyone to catch their breaths.
The voice of Rich Sanchez broke the peace over the coms. "Ned what the fuck? Your armor is fucked! Power supply is fried, circuits are burned out. Don't get me started about the nanomachine population!"
Ned laughed, "I only took on an alien queen by myself, thanks for asking."
"...Oh I see. Er, well, good job." Rick barely managed to hide his relief and impressed feeling with his usual taciturn nature. Typical of him.
Rooster signed as he reloaded his guns, "Nice kill, boss. We got her before she could start laying eggs."
"With any luck, the ship can be rebuilt and retrofitted for use in your navy, Lord Stark, " Sylvanas congratulated.
Ned simply nodded, tired from just all that. Right now, he'd need to clean up a bit before heading home to his wife and children...and to make sure Gregor got his arm regenerated.
A medical robot could see to Gregors needs. All he needed was to get that arm stapled on and he'd be in fighting form in a day. Besides, Ned didn't trust The Mountain that Rides with the lives of his medical staff.
"Get on the line," Ned ordered, "have the ship towed into orbit and get repair crews on the ready "
The orders were soon carried out, along with requests of the corpses to be moved out. No one wanted those around for long.
The ship's crew were dead to the last, the Captain nowhere to be found. The engines and the external weapons were functional, though large portions of the vessel had lost atmosphere due to xenomorph burning through the hull.
The space born threat was dealt with, which meant that it was now up to Robb and Jon to purge them on the planet.
...How were they doing, some had to wonder.
How they were doing was cold. Even with internally heated power armour, the whipping winds of the arctic regions were brutal. Robb cradled his father's sword in his hands, for the entirety of the trip he'd been reciting old lessions; everything from Old Nan's fairytales to advanced modern tactics and strategic ground warfare.
"We've coming up on the wall!" the Pilot announced over the intercom.
Gelu paid no need, merely paying attention to his arrows. He trusted them, yes, but when it came to real battle, he could always rely on his trusty icy blade, to hack down those in his way.
He remembered the days when he regularly fought the Skavens...
Funny thing about the Skaven, they weren't particularly frightening individually. But they were ruthless and adaptable. They were also highly technologically advanced; using their mad science to make up for poor troop morale and weak individual units. It was the insane technology combined with dark magic which kept them competetive in a galaxy of horrors.
But enough about that. They were approaching their destination...and they had to be prepared of anything that might be there.
Gelu could see the Wall on the view screen. It still managed to stir even his cold heart. Built thousands of years ago, stretching for over forty-five thousand kilometers; it stretched five kilometers high and was as solid as the day it was built.
Mostly people took it for granted, only believing it good to block the electromagnetic storms from the planet's frozen north.
And yet, he knew better, it was blocking...something else...something unknown.
And soon, they would be landing at their destination of it, to find out who was behind the current mess.
The Wall would keep the Xenomorphs in for now; such was the technological wizardly behind it, ancient technology from before the long night.
the shuttle's engines fought against the strong winds as it settled on the landin pad. Ready for action, Rob, Jon, Gelu and the men exited to storm the village of Barrow; the epicenter of the transmission.
Quickly, they noticed how...quiet it was, more so than usual of the sleepy, cold town. Everyone was quickly alert, for anything that might happen in the cold.
"This was a village of about a hundred people," Gelu supplied, readying his advanced war bow, "The only place with a transmitter strong enough to reach Winterfell station is the meteorological outpost at the center of town."
"Does it have an extensive basement structure?" Robb asked.
Gelu nodded grimly, "Definitely."
"Underground..." Robb muttered.
"Skavens?" Jon asked.
Gelu grimaced. "Quite possibly, but we won't know until we descend..." They entered a nearby tavern, only to find it empty. Usually there was someone here, at least a worker, but now...nothing.
"This area is built on relatively soft limestone under the permafrost," Jon read off the data on his overhead display. "If they're here, they'll have an easy time tunnelling."
"Not to mention they're one of the few races reckless enough to experiment with Xenomorphs," Gelu uttered.
Brushing back some loose boards he saw, Robb noticed a tunnel leading downwards into the depths of the earth.
"Their work, all right." He muttered to himself.
"You boys still have that atomic bomb with you?" Gelu asked, peeking down the seemingly bottomless hole. "If the Skaven have established a base and posess captive Xenomorphs, the logical course of action is to detonate it at the hart of the warren."
"Sounds like a suicide mission," Jon observed.
"Only if you're not quick," Gelu retorted.
Jon let out a deep sigh. It was risky, but as it turns out, no longer any worry for civilian casualties...as they were already dead.
Bits of skin covered the walls of the tunnel, human skin. Skaven viewed other species as livestock, so eating the locals was cheaper than importing food from off world in their beady eyes.
Robb and Jon nearly gagged from the smell, which only grew stronger as they descended, eventually finding themselves in a large cavern littered with human and animal bones.
And up ahead, they heard the chittering of the rat people. Already there were armed, ready to engage the filthy vermin.
They had to be on guard though. Who knew what else they would encounter?
These were Clan rats, it would be a mistake to engage them. They were poorly armed and trained, carrying nothing but rusty pistols and knives if they were lucky. They weren't the main threat, not like Storm Vermin, the terrifying Robots of Clan Skryer or monsters of Clan Moulder.
The Clan rats could be evaded as they fought over scraps of lord knows what.
Down another tunnel could be heard the sound of machinery, heavy stuff by the noise; that was where the team would go.
The plan was simple. Infiltrate the middle of the settlement they had, plant and arm the bomb, and run. Hopefully they did not have the ability to properly disarm it.
A Storm Vermin in heavy power armor and with a powerful plasma rifle guarded the entrance to the machine shop. An arrow to the eye took it out without a problem. The Vermin standing next to it spun around but had its head cut off by Robb's sword before it could raise alarm.
They entered further, as Jon worked at a crude Skaven terminal; plugging in his wrist computer he began to loop camera footage so the Skaven overseers wouldn't see them coming.
But they would catch on that SOMETHING was up eventually, so haste was needed. The team kept moving, on guard for anything Skaven that might be around the corner..
Power cables led them; Skaven machinery was notorioiusly power intensive, requiring large amounts of radioactive metal infused with dark magic to run. Cutting the power at the edge of the facility would shift guards while Jon and Robb planted the bomb.
Reluctantly, Gelu left the boys as he did not trust any of his men to do this evasive job.
Rob and Jon didn't have to wait long before the sound of Skaven Tek priests chittering turned furious.
And they heard voices as well.
"Intruders, I smell!"
"BAH! No one foolish to come down here! This town unimportant anyways! Makes good hiding place!"
That was always the main weakness of the Skaven, their blind overconfidence. They could already hear one of the higher ups berating his subordinate, "Send-Send Stormvermin! Yes-yes! Stupid Clan rats chew-chew wires again!"
Blame the Skaven for insulating their wires in something their species found tasty.
The sound of armored boots told Jon and Robb that Gelu had cut the power and that they could proceed.
They two half-brothers moved forward, taking out the occasional sentry here and there. No time to hide the bodies though. Just kill them to avoid them alerting others.
Soon, they found a good place and place the charge under a rock to keep it hidden from plain sight.
The cave was a sight to behold, and by sight I mean a horror. in a vast Cauldron, human heads, organs and limbs floated in a red, viscous substance. A Xenomorph Queen in chains shrieked before a sadistic Skaven researcher electrocuted her. Wires and probes stuck to her egg sac as an inhibition field held her egg laying in check, for now.
By a control panel, a captive Yautja in a stasis capsule was starting to stir. And over by what looked like Dr. Frankenstein's lab, Skaven slaves were trying to handle face huggers safely. Those who didn't were shot down by their Stormvermin overseers.
About the area, Hell-Pit Abominations lurched about the area, their hideous forms seeking out enemies. Various test tubes held Salmonid poison to study as biological weapons.
All these depraved acts, with all unaware they were about to meet an explosive end.
The Hellpit Abominations were tough, able to handle as much firepower as a tank of comparable size; but they were't very smart. Skaven were afraid that Artificial Intelligence would turn against them so they mostly relied on bio-organic brains to meet their needs; which more often than not ended up eating their masters.
Robb saw his chance as a floating truck full of pink paste and food byproduct began to float over the lab to a dispenser. Mother's milk to Skaven. He aimed his rocket launcher and showered the testing area in pink gore.
The Hellpit Abominations roared with hunger, suddenly not able to tell their masters from food.
Chaos spread as the Skaven tried to reign control over the beasts, screeching with panic and rage. Jon took the time to arm the bomb, and used the distraction to flee with Robb.
Stormvermin unloaded their plasma rifles on the hellish monster, which was actualy twenty or thirty different abominations stitched together in one awful package.
Fortunately their weapons fire provided cover for Jon, who ran behind one of the main portable reactors and began to prime the bomb.
Unfortunately the weapons fire unleashed the wakening Yautja and the Alien Queen. Robb swore.
The two seriously angry creatures, though, were more focused on their tormenters than the fleeing brothers, and immediately attacked the Skaven. The Queen took priority over the ones torturing her, ripping them limb from limb.
The Yautja first made its business with the head Skaven researcher, a rat man that was more machine than Vermin. The creature squeaked hisses and insults in its harsh langauge at the Dreadlock wearing alien.
Yatjua used Skaven to train their children, sending their young against hordes of Clan rats armed with just bladed weapons. This Tek Priest wasn't even worth the hunter's time.
The Yatjua grabbed one of the Skaven's mechanical arms and ripped it out of the socket with a spray of blood and oil. Then, contemptuously, it caved the rat man's head in with his own arm.
A warrior came running at the hunter next, but it too, was seen as nothing to the might Predator, who simply reached out, grabbed the head, and tore it clean off.
Meanwhile, the Xenomorph Queen attacked the Hellpit Abomination. The two creatures writhed like angry snakes when the Queen emerged on top. Her claws and extra pair of arms held the struggling monster still as her proboscus punched a hole into the beast's brain.
Actually one of several brains; the Queen destroyed its major brain, paralyzing but not killing it. This way it could serve as a host for a face hugger later from one of its dozen mouths and produce a Xenomorph abomination.
Little did anyone know she would not get the chance...the countdown kept going and going, tiny beeps signifying the approaching blast.
Robb, Jon, Gelu, and all the others rushed back up the tunnel, knowing time was short. Bursting from the tavern, they rushed to their vehicle.
The Yautja in his dark mask scanned Rob, Jon and Gelu fleeing the scene. It took snapshots of each man as best it could with its tech-mask. Realizing the chaos around it, the Predator saw Skaven flood the chamber in numbers even it could not hope to defeat, the alien queen was fighting like a cornered animal and it knew enough about humans to know what the nuke's timer meant.
On a work table was its wrist device, still intact. Placing it on, the Yatjua was cloaked in light bending technology. It would thank the Stark boys in its own way, in the future. For now it had to follow their example.
Unseen now, it quickly fled, and it was not long before it was out of blast range.
"Let's go!" Robb ordered, and without further ado the vehicle took off, and soon was out of range...
The bomb's timer began to dip down...5...4...3...2...1...
The explosion could be seen from the Wall. The town was evaporated and earthquakes were triggered for miles as underground tunnel systems collapsed from the concussive force. Gelu got a little bit off since his unique DNA divided at less than half the rate the humans did; making him less vulnerable to radiation. Robb and Jon however would have to take a freezing shower at the wall to get rid of any radioactive fallout on them.
The watershed was poisoned with radioactivity as well and would require much environmental cleanup. Of xenomorphs and Skaven, however, there was not a trace.
Gelu sighed, his biomechanical body tired out from this harrowing ordeal. "Well, that's that."
The two brothers nodded as Jon spoke up. "Take us to base."
And so the the vehicle flew off, as the smoldering remains of the settlement emitted smoke high into the air. Such was the reminded that life in the galaxy, no matter your rank, was dangerous and perilous.
Such was life.