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#6
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Dark Tide Rising, Part Two:
“Genocide”
Four Sacred Streams, Milky Way Galaxy
“Kill the rest of these animals,” said the large alien holding Corsair.
It was a dire situation: the Starjammers had been ambushed in dingy alley of battle ravaged Shining White, capital of Four Sacred Streams. Raza, Z’Cann, Ch’od and Nightcrawler stood at gunpoint while their captain was unceremoniously held hostage by one of the alien soldiers.
Time seemed to slow down at that point; as the half dozen aliens raised their weapons to fire, the Starjammers burst into action. Raza was the first to move, diving sideways and firing multiple blasts at a random assailant. Not wasting time to acknowledge whether or not his attack had caused any damage, the cyborg charged towards Corsair and his captor.
Bamf! Nightcrawler beat him to the punch, as he appeared in the air before the three eyed alien. Blades flashed through the air but the creature reacted faster than humanly possible, blocking the sabres with his own crystalline rifle. One of the alien’s four fists slammed into the mutant’s stomach, sending him hurtling backwards through the air.
Another Quel’toth intercepted Raza before he could provide any aid to his captain; the slate colored creature grabbed him by the sword hand and laughed off the pirate’s laser fire. With its twin right hands, the alien grabbed Raza’s cybernetic hand and removed his laser pistol.
“You have bonded metal to your very flesh!” exclaimed the alien soldier. “You are an abomination in the eyes of the Quel’toth,”
“I’m an abomination in my own eyes too,” he replied sadly.
Suddenly, the cybernetic hand detached, revealing a built in pressure loaded blade which impaled itself within the Quel’toth’s chest. With a quick twist and jerk, he ended the alien’s life. Lasers were useless in this fight so he reattached his hand and drew his second sabre; the one Ch’od affectionately called 'Cutty'.
The rest of the group had realized the same thing and were keeping the fight in close, where their assailants had more difficulty using their own lasers. Ch’od was fighting three Quel’toth with a fury rarely seen, while Nightcrawler battled another with one sword drawn as he held something close with the other arm.
Raza realized he’d lost sight of Z’Cann in the struggle. On the far side of the alley, the Quel’toth holding Corsair was backing away from the battle and speaking into a communicator and it looked as if Christopher had been stunned.
With a single minded determination, the cyborg charged down the alleyway towards his captain. Another Quel’toth tried to intercept Raza, this time with laser blasts, but energy harmlessly struck his cybernetic shoulder. By distracting the creature with a false parry, he was able to sever the alien’s upper hands, causing it to drop the rifle. Not stopping to finish it off, the cyborg simply kept running toward his fast retreating captain.
Suddenly a pair of powerful hands grabbed him by the throat and started to strangle him...it was the Quel’toth he had failed to finish off!
“My hands will grow back, abomination. Such is the perfection of the Quel-URRGHH!”
Twin blade erupted through the alien’s neck, killing it instantly. Raza didn’t know what Nightcrawler was doing on this world but at that moment he didn’t care. The mutant had saved his life.
“We must save Corsair! This is all my fault!" exclaimed Kurt, before disappearing in a cloud of dark smoke. For a brief second Raza could have sworn he heard a baby crying.
The Quel’toth holding Corsair captive had reached the far end of the alley and was now accompanied by only two other soldiers; all the others had been defeated. He could feel it was going to happen before it did...the tingle in his circuitry that indicated a teleportation was about to take place.
“Captain! NOOOOO!”
Nightcrawler appeared directly behind the lead Quel’toth but he was too late; the three remaining alien’s disappeared in a flash of black and purple light. For a brief second before the soldiers teleported, the remaining Starjammers heard Z’Cann’s voice in their heads.
I’ll get him back. Take care of yourselves.
Aboard the Quel’toth ship Blood Pride
In an instant, Z’Cann felt herself rematerialize beside the two Quel’toth soldiers. In the heat of the battle the Skrull had posed as one of the alien soldiers in order to get closer to their captain and grab Corsair. Unfortunately, she had been too slow and ended up being teleported onto an enemy ship.
Corsair was within arm’s reach, held limply by his captor, but should she dare to free him now? Surely she could take out these two aliens with a mental attack. The decision was taken out of her hands when a contingent of guards marched into the room; there was no way she could take out so many foes at once. She would have to rely on her guile, it seemed. The lead soldier passed Corsair to the guards, who shackled him.
The room she stood in was small and unexciting, except for the fact it was completely made of a smoky black crystal. Every few seconds a surge of purple energy, resembling branched lightning, would streak across the walls.
To her surprise, a holographic image appeared before the soldiers, projected from a large crystal above. It was a two dimensional screen displaying what looked to be the bridge of the ship; a dozen Quel’toth, with shining blue skin rather than gray, worked tirelessly at bizarre consoles while an open viewing port displayed the beautiful plant of Four Sacred Streams below. A powerful looking Quel’toth, with skin as black as ebony and three yellow eyes stepped into the forefront and every soldier immediately snapped to attention, crossing all four fists across their chests.
“Sen’khan, we have captured the human as requested, though we met some resistance,” said the lead soldier.
“Very good, Delta, the Omega smiles upon you,” said the Sen’khan.
“I live to preserve the genetic purity of the universe, Sen’ khan,” bowed the soldier. Z’Cann was unsure whether Delta was his title or name; all the alien’s thoughts were fuzzy, as if they were naturally shielded.
“Have all Quel’toth forces returned to the ships?” asked the Sen’ khan.
“Yes they have, Sai."
Z’Cann could not believe her ears. Were the Quel’toth going to leave Four Sacred Streams now that they had what they wanted? She couldn’t fathom why they would engage a war simply to capture Corsair.
The Sen’khan turned his golden eyed gaze to one of his officers on the bridge. “Beta, initiate pulse canons. Destroy the planet,”
She nearly screamed out in despair at the alien’s orders; Raza and Ch’od were likely still down there, along with thousands of other innocents.
“Sen’khan, what of the Dasagroth’s minions?” asked the blue skinned officer.
“We shall find no shortage of corpses in this galaxy for the Dasagroth to use. Now do as I ordered."
Z’Cann could only scream and curse in her mind as a bombardment of energy pulses blew Four Sacred Streams to pieces.
Unknown Space, aboard Dragoon’s flagship
Fallout had an itch; if he had an archenemy it was itches. There was nothing worse than being trapped in a sardine can of a suit all day every day and not being able to scratch an itch. By leaning against a wall and awkwardly moving up and down he was able to scratch his itchy butt against the inside of his radiation suit.
“What are you doing, worm?” asked an insidiously familiar voice.
Fallout hated dealing with Tesk-Nor, Head Priest of the Vanguard of Dragoon. For some reason, Dragoon seemed to favor the armored mutant more than his own loyal clerics, which infuriated them to no end.
“You were scratching yourself like a mangy cur in the presence of our might god!” screeched the priest, his reptilian eyes ablaze with spite.
“Enough, servant,” boomed Dragoon from his throne. “All of you leave me!”
“But my Lord…” sputtered a surprised Tesk-Nor.
“I said leave me! Not you, Fallout,” added the god when Seb started towards the door.
Each hooded cleric shot him a look of pure malice as they shuffled out of the bridge.
As the doors shut behind them, Dragoon stepped down from his throne and approached the young man. “Remove your armor,” he said.
“But, my radiation…”
“Will not harm me, child. Now remove your armor.”
Hesitantly, the young man removed his radiation dampening armor, piece by piece.First he removed the helmet, revealing a pale face with messy brown hair. Then he removed the arms, torso and legs until he stood in his sweaty undershirt and pants. It would be impossible to miss the sickly green aura that emanated from the man: radiation deadly to all living things, except Dragoon. The self proclaimed deity basked in the green light, absorbing the energy like he was a plant soaking up the sun’s rays.
“You fear your powers, boy." It was more a statement than an accusation. “But you should not! They make you a god among insects. All a person needs to become a god is power, and then you can bring the universe to its knees!”
Dragoon’s burning white eyes focused on some distant star and it appeared he was talking to someone who wasn’t there. “But they no longer fear me, my name means nothing. Does that mean I am even truly a god…yes, yes that is true, even gods are forgotten. Only time is even greater than a deity. But I have returned, yes…”
At that moment Fallout decided there was no way Dragoon could truly be a god, because how could a god be completely and utterly insane?
Suddenly, the massive being’s head snapped to another distant star as his eyes grew wide in shock.
“Such power!” he gasped. “So unique and yet so familiar." Without a word to the unarmored Fallout, Dragoon brought the ship’s systems online using only the power of his mind. The young man could clearly see on a nearby monitor that he was setting a course for quadrant 4728, though he couldn’t fathom why.
Within a minute, the large vessel disappeared into hyperspace, and Fallout could only hope that the rest of the fleet was able to follow.
The Blood Pride, prisoner’s cells
Thud, thud, thud, thud!
All day, everyday, he punched the black, crystalline walls of his cell. Three weeks of super strong punches in the same spot had done little but create several hairline cracks. It didn’t matter though; it was the action of hitting something that made him feel better, not the chance of escape. He would eventually die here, in this cold, sterile prison. He almost missed the Brood.
He was Colossus...well, a copy of Colossus created by the Brood to serve as a host. His short life had almost been free of all meaning. Only the thought of hunting down every last Brood sustained him; that is until baby Yana was born. And now Yana was gone and he was locked away, never to see her again.
Across the hall sat Kitty in her cell, with a pained look upon her face. Peter hated that he was no longer the man she fell in love with, but felt that there was little he could do about it; there was anger inside him, a darkness that grew with everyday.
Scott groaned. “Do you have to do that all the time, Peter? You may be lucky enough not to get experimented on but I’m not, and my head is killing…”
Footsteps down the hall interrupted Scott’s complaints. Quel’toth soldiers were approaching and, from the sounds of it, they were dragging something along with them. A trio of Delta class soldiers, two brandishing weapons and a third carrying an unconscious man, stopped before the men’s cell. After shutting down the force field, the Quel’toth unceremoniously tossed the man inside, reactivated the shield and left.
There was something startlingly familiar about the man who lay on the ground; the clothes, the moustache.
“Corsair?” asked Peter.
Scott sat bolt upright. “Dad…Corsair?”
The man couldn’t actually see because the Quel’toth had placed a smoky black crystal band over his eyes in order to protect against his optic blasts. In fact, it seemed the aliens had been unprepared for their powers but they had since coped well in containing the mutants. Kitty’s cell had energy fields on all sides preventing her from phasing outside, Peter stayed in his steel form constantly so he couldn’t be experimented on, and Ororo…Peter didn’t even want to think about what happened to her.
Eventually Scott managed to bring Corsair back to conscious, though the man was clearly groggy.
“Uggh…Son, you’re alive!” smiled Christopher, groggily.
“Dad…Corsair…I’m not…”
“I know your story, I met with Kurt on Four Sacred Streams,” replied Corsair. “It doesn’t matter, you’re still my blood and you’re still my son.”
Impatiently, Peter interrupted the hallmark moment, crouching down and grabbing the man by the shoulders to get his full attention and asked, “You said you met with, Kurt. Did he have a child with him?”
“Yes, Yana, last I saw she was ok, but we were ambushed. For some reason they thought I was the one they wanted and not Kurt." Corsair’s face grew pale as some bad memory came back to him. “Before I was knocked out, I heard one of the aliens say ‘Kill the rest of these animals'."
The steel behemoth cried out in rage and renewed his assault on the wall.
“The rest of the Starjammers were with him, Piotr, I’m sure they’re all right,” said the Captain.
“Don’t call me Piotr! I’m not Russian, I was born in a Brood cloning facility,” stated the metal giant as he ceaselessly pounded the crystal wall, “and if the Quel’toth think they’ve found what they were looking for then they’ll likely destroy to planet you were on. Kurt, Yana and everyone else is dead."
“No Peter, you don’t know that!” screamed Kitty from across the hall. “Kurt will keep her safe!” The young woman sobbed into her hands.
“Scott, you need to tell me everything you know about these aliens. Quickly!” demanded Corsair.
His pseudo-son sighed in resignation. "They’re called the Quel’toth and, from what we’ve gathered, they hail from another galaxy, which they’ve already conquered. They’re absolutely sick: they destroy all life without effort or remorse. A Quel’toth isn’t born, it’s created through cloning and genetic engineering, which is why they see any creature that breeds as being genetically inferior and needs to be exterminated. They’re technology is beyond anything we’ve ever encountered, everything seems to be made of this crystal which can tap some sort of primal energy well as well as being stronger than steel,”
“Why are they so obsessed with capturing Kurt?”
“The Quel’toth are also harvesting genetic material from many of the races they encounter. My guess is they add anything they like to their own DNA. Our powers and DNA amaze them for some reason.”
“I guess they’re going to be disappointed when they realise I’m not Kurt,” smiled Christopher ruefully.
Scott didn’t return his smile, “I…I don’t know what they’ll do with you. The tests…the tests they do are horrific.” For the first time Corsair noticed the network of cuts and scars covering the clone’s exposed skin. “Kitty and Peter are lucky, the Quel’toth haven’t been able to touch them, but Storm…her powers were just too difficult for them to control. They dissected her! They sliced her to pieces!”
Tears ran down the man’s face from beneath the crystal band. Corsair placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. It broke his heart to see his son, even a copy of his son, break down in such a way. He swore he would make the Quel’toth pay for all the lives they’d taken.
The Starjammer
Raza, Ch’od and Kurt watched in horror as Four Sacred Streams was completely annihilated. Annihilated was the only appropriate word for it: the Quel’toth’s weapons blew the planet into absolute nothingness. Thankfully the trio, plus the baby, had teleported aboard the Starjammer as soon as Corsair’s captors escaped, or else they too would have suffered the same fate.
“There were…thousandss of people down there,” said a stunned Ch’od. “This doesn’t make any sense. Why would they take Corsair and then destroy the planet?”
“They’re on the move,” said Raza stoically. “Waldo, follow them.”
“Affirmative,” said the ship’s AI.
With their genocidal task seemingly done, the Quel’toth’s wicked ships regrouped and made their way out of the solar system. The Starjammer stayed outside the assumed range of their systems, but with ships so alien they had no idea whether or not the enemy could see them or just didn’t care.
The bundle strapped to Nightcrawler’s chest started to stir and a baby’s cry filled the bridge. It was at that moment that Raza remembered the mutant’s presence.
“What are you doing here, Nightcrawler, and whose baby is this?” demanded the cyborg. When the man didn’t immediately respond, he grabbed him by the shoulders and threw him against the wall. “Why did they want Corsair?!”
“They didn’t, they wanted me…”
Kurt was interrupted by the sudden blaring of alarms, which drowned out Yana’s crying.
“Dimensional anomaly detected,” stated Waldo, before bringing it up on the screen.
It could only be described as a tear in space, a massive rip through which intense whiteness could be seen, and the Quel’toth were flying directly into it! The fact that the aliens were making no move to get away from the rip suggested they had opened it themselves, but what was it?
“We can’t let them escape,” said Raza, forgetting about Kurt for now. “Follow them inside, Waldo,”
“Boldly going where we’ve never gone before…syntax error,” said the faulty computer, as it flew the ship directly into the gaping white maw of the unknown.
The Blood Pride, prisoner’s cells.
It was several hours before the Quel’toth finally came to take Corsair away. In that time Scott and Kitty filled him in on their adventures over the years, while the stoic giant, Peter, continued to punch the wall of his cell.
Ever since their escape from the Brood cloning facility, the quintet had been hounding the Brood for years to little effect. They couldn’t go home, as they had no home to go to; it broke Christopher’s heart.
Their tales were interrupted by the arrival of two gray-skinned guards. According to Kitty, the Quel’toth had a strict caste system; green skinned gammas were the lowest class, delegated to menial duties such as cleaning; gray skinned Deltas were the soldiers; and iridescent blue Betas handled tech work and middle-management. Apparently there was one Alpha, the highest class, on the ship who had yet to be seen.
One of the guards trained its weapon on Peter and Scott while the other roughly picked up Corsair and carried him from the room. The creature had a vice-like grip and the captain’s struggles proved useless. At least this time he was able to view the interior of the ship, which fascinated him. It was almost as if the ship was grown from natural crystal rather than constructed. The walls emanated with an unnatural, violet light, which was accentuated every few seconds by surges of lightning-like energy.
The tunnels were like a maze and back-tracking through them would be difficult, though that would be just the first of a dozen major hurdles if he managed to escape. Eventually they reached a small room with dozens of holographic screen covering the walls. In the center of the room was a large flat bench, also made of black crystal.
“I know I haven’t kept up with the latest trends in Alien Weekly, but I’m sure all this black crystal décor is overkill,”
The guard simply grunted in response and threw him onto the bench. Seemingly solid crystal quickly liquefied and formed bands around his arms and legs, before solidifying again. Scott’s words echoed in his mind, “They dissected her! They sliced her to pieces!” and he started to worry. Two more Quel’toth entered the room, a slight of build Beta and a towering, obsidian skinned being. Presumably the elusive Alpha class, the leader of this genocidal invasion.
That Alpha’s three golden eyes opened wide in shock when he saw Corsair strapped to the table.
“What in the Omega’s name is this!” he demanded.
“This is the human retrieved from the planet Sen’khan,” stated one of the guards.
The Sen’khan threw open his blood-red cloak, revealing a large sabre of icy blue crystal in his lower right hand. Without a word he skewered the guard through the chest.
To the other guard he said, “This is not the human your squad was sent to retrieve!”
“Sen’kan…forgive me, Sai…we were not provided with a visual of the human and it does resemble the other subjects greatly.”
The Sen’khan glanced in Corsair’s direction, those strange eyes sizing him up like was has a piece of meat.
“Yes, that is a fair assessment, Delta; we will have to run genetic tests to be certain though. Leave us and dispose of this waste when you go,” he said as he retrieved his sword from the dead guard’s chest.
Silently, the Beta who had accompanied the Sen’khan began touching various holographic screens. From the roof directly above Corsair descended a device vaguely resembling an octopus made of ice-blue crystal. Each arm of the device ended in a different apparatus: everything from needles to buzz saws to things he couldn’t name.
“You know what to do,” said the Sen’khan to the Beta, who continued to work at the screens.
“What gives you the right to kill everyone you deem as unworthy?” demanded Corsair; the Sen’khan ignored him, he simply watched on in silence as one of the arms jabbed a needle in the human’s neck and began draining blood.
His body was bathed in fluorescent green light as a second arm scanned him from head to toe. By tilting his head to the left, Corsair had a partially obstructed view of the results displayed on the various screens. Most of it was in an unintelligible alien dialect but he could clearly make out a diagram of a double helix, along with a map of his own internal organs.
“The human’s genetic makeup displays the same manipulation as the other specimens, though it does not contain the mutation gene,” stated the Beta, speaking for the first time.
“So he is essentially worthless,” growled the Sen’khan.
“Not necessarily, Sen’khan,” replied the Beta quickly. “He still displays the remarkable genetic manipulation as the other specimens, perfected over thousands of generations. There is a lot we can learn from this one.”
“Very well,” the Sen’khan conceded, “see what you can learn from this one. Contact me when you are done.”
The ebony skinned alien gave the captive one brief glance before leaving the lab. When Corsair looked into those three soulless eyes he heard a voice within his mind, Your sacrifice will lead to a better world, animal.
Sacrifice? The Quel’toth’s word’s echoed in his mind as more arms descended from the 'octopus of torture' and he realized he would be sharing Ororo’s fate.
As electric shocks surged through his body and thin strips of skin were peeled from his chest, he internalized the pain, focusing on his greatest regrets to distract himself from the torture. The death of his wife, missing seeing his children grow up and,most recently, loosing Hepzibah...all his greatest pains. As he focused on them, he felt distant from his body; the Quel’toth could not hurt him.
He wished he could see Hepzibah one more time before he died; he’d always taken their time together for granted, never thinking she may one day leave him. At this very minute she was probably in the arms of her new lover, Hrrar, someone who shared her hatred of the Shi’ar.
The pain and imminent death brought clarity to his mind and the man quickly realized something that he'd forgotten in his self-despair and anger over losing Hepzibah: male Mephistoids have the ability to control others using pheromones! His lover may not be so lost after all!
Hrrar’s Ship
The two Shi’ar escort ships went down quickly, with no time to react to the sudden surprise attack. Hrrar’s ship, the Avenging Claw, was fast and heavily armed, easily outclassing the two smaller ships.
After the mass exodus of ships to aid Four Sacred Streams, Hrrar and Hepzibah had trouble rallying anyone to their cause of striking out against the Shi’ar. Instead, they decided to take Hrrar’s ship and join with Dragoon’s armada, in the hope of convincing him to attack the ‘Birdies’.
Out of sheer luck the duo came across a pair of Shi’ar military frigates escorting a larger transport ship. By hiding behind a nearby moon, the Mephistoids were able to easily take out the frigates, leaving the transport ship ripe for the pillaging.
“Scan the ship,” said Hrrar “Let’s see what cargo they’rre carrying.”
The ship’s scanners revealed a high number of life forms on the transport, with little actual cargo.
“It’s a people transporrt, most likely refuges,” replied a disappointed Hepzibah.
At that moment they received a transmission from the unarmed ship; an elderly Shi’ar woman appeared on the screen wearing a shawl over her head, indicating she was some sort of religious figure.
“This is Arlina Neralti, we are a hospital ship. Please don’t attack us. You will find nothing of value here but sick women and children.”
“Destroy them, Hepzibah,” said Hrrar with a low growl.
“But Hrrar, they cannot harrm us." Despite her hatred towards the Shi’ar, the woman couldn’t bring herself to murder hundreds of innocent women and children. Obviously her new lover felt different.
He stepped in close behind her and growled, "Do it, woman!”
Inexplicably, she could not stop her hands as they reached for the controls and fired a volley of quantum missiles at the hospital ship.
“No, have mercy!” screamed Arlina as the missiles snaked towards her ship.
The transmission suddenly cut out as the ship detonated in a massive, silent explosion. Hepzibah could do nothing but watch; her body wouldn’t respond to her mental commands. Tears streamed down her face as hundreds of innocent lives were snuffed out.
A single thought dominated her mind, though: she was no man’s tool!
The Blood Pride, specimen lab
Corsair had no concept of time as the Quel’toth did his tests; he spent his time thinking of all violent things he wanted to do to Hrrar for taking Hepzibah against her will. Of course Hepzibah couldn’t have left him willingly…
His thoughts were broken by the sudden halt of the test, each arm of the monstrous device suddenly returned to their original position on the ceiling.
“Ah, how I would love to meet the geniuses responsible for such perfect work,” said the Beta as he examined the screens. Corsair was unsure whether he was talking to him or himself.
“Hey, Bluebell,” croaked Corsair, “can you read minds too? Because I’m imagining you using that octopus…”
“Only the Alpha class have the gift of telepathy. I am not blessed with such abilities.
“But I am.” A large Delta stood in the entranceway, brandishing a black crystalline rifle. A lancing ray of purple energy from the weapon caught the Beta in the face, killing him instantly.
The Delta’s massive form quickly melted down to that of Z’Cann, and Corsair hadn’t been happier to see anyone in his whole life.
“How did you get here?” he asked.
“I teleported in with you, in disguise, but then I couldn’t get away for a while. The Quel’toth have such strict routines.” She typed away at one of the screens and the crystal bonds holding him suddenly liquefied. She helped him to his feet and looked slightly embarrassed. “After I managed to slip away, I…I got lost. This ship is like a maze.”
“It’s ok,Z’Cann, don’t sweat it,” Corsair reassured. “How are we going to get out of this place?”
“Well, I know where the teleportation chamber is, but we’ll need to be close to a planet or another ship and, to be honest, I have no idea where we are."
It was another average day in the life of a Starjammer...trapped on an enemy ship, wounded and with no hope of escape.
“Well, no time to mope, we need to go free the other prisoners first, and then find a way out of here,”
“Other prisoners?” asked Z’Cann
“Some of the X-Men are here. Well,they’re not really the X-Men…I’ll explain later, come on!"
Z’Cann once again took the form of the Quel’toth guard and followed Corsair, pointing her rifle at him, creating the illusion he was a prisoner. They wandered the corridors for a quarter of an hour, passing only a trio of Gammas transporting food, before Corsair conceded he didn’t know where they were.
“I’m sorry, Z’Cann, you were right about these corridors being like a maze."
“It’s ok, there’s only one thing for us to do. We’ll have to find a Quel’toth and force it to…”
Z’Cann never got to detail the rest of her plan as a piercing siren cut through the air.
“I’m pretty sure that’s for us,” said Corsair. “Guess we should have hidden that body."
“We’ve got company!” Five Deltas charged down the corridor behind them and the pair took off at a sprint, turning down corridors at random. They managed to escape their pursuers at the price of becoming more hopelessly lost.
“Though here,” whispered Z’Cann at the sound of approaching footsteps. Hearing her feminine voice coming from a monstrous alien’s lips was disconcerting to say the least. The Skrull lead them through a large circular door and sealed it shut behind them. Corsair was panting too heavily and muttering something about being too old, to notice where they were but Z’Cann, ever alert, gasped in shock.
They stood on a ring shaped balcony, roughly halfway up a massive cylindrical chamber. The room must have been over a hundred metres high with dozens more balconies above and below them, but Z’Cann noticed none of this. What she saw, what she couldn’t tear her eyes from, was the towering, grotesque creature which dominated the chamber like some sort of hideous tree.
Its body had no real definition, it simply looked like a gigantic melted candle covered in sickly oil colored flesh and writhing tentacles. It was a living, writhing cancer and, worse still, the thing emanated pure malice, which nearly overwhelmed her sensitive mind.
“What is that thing?” asked Corsair, whose breath was slowly returning.
“I’m not sure, but it’s evil,” replied Z’Cann as she returned to her natural form. “Look down there."
Far below, at the base of the creature, were dozens of Gammas milling around like busy ants. The workers were laboriously hauling large items from a nearby bin and tossing them onto the beast’s pulpy flesh.
“Oh God, those are bodies!” exclaimed Chris.
He was right, the Quel’toth were flinging corpses onto the creature like yesterday’s food scraps. Each body was readily enveloped by the monster’s putty-like tissue, but that wasn’t the worst part, not by a long shot. Some of the cadavers were expelled from the thing’s body alive. No...alive wasn’t the right word, animated was more appropriate. The creature was reanimating corpses, which explained the army of freakish monsters they encountered on Four Sacred Streams.
“And I thought the Brood were bad,” said Corsair softly. “These…Quel’toth, they hold no regard for life whatsoever; slaughtering thousands to capture one man, torturing people in the name of science, they even desecrate the dead.” Z’Cann could sense his sadness giving way to determination, laced with anger. "We have to stop this, Z’Cann. I won’t let any more people die. I can’t!!"
“I know, Corsair, but first we need to get off this ship,” replied Z’Cann. “We’re just two people, with one gun between us and thousands of enemies."
“No, don’t you see? This is the perfect opportunity! We’re in the bowels of the enemy’s command ship...its likely nigh impossible to get in, and yet here we are.”
Z’Cann couldn’t help but feel the human was off his rocker. What could the two of them possibly do? The element of surprise was lost; the Quel’toth knew they were loose in the ship.
“I just hope we can find a way to kill this…abomination,” said the Captain.
“It’s called the Dasagroth!” shouted a voice from across the chamber.
One level above them and across the room stood the Sen’khan, looming over them menacingly.
“It’s the pinnacle of the Quel’toth’s genetic mastery.” The alien leader was acting almost casually, like a man showing off his new sports car to a neighbor. In one swift movement, the Sen’khan grabbed hold of the railing and launched himself across the massive expanse of the chamber. Z’Cann almost didn’t react in time, though she managed to fire off several blasts as the villain hurtled through the air. With agility rivalling that of Nightcrawler the Sen’khan twisted in mid-flight and avoided both shots, before landing a kick to the Skrull’s chest.
“An organic being with the ability to tap the energy of the Korhan and power our entire fleet!” The alien spoke as if he wasn’t in the middle of a brawl; in a blur of motion he yanked the rifle from Z’Cann’s hands and slammed her head against the wall while simultaneously kicking Corsair in the face.
It was all too fast for Z’Cann to concentrate on using her mental powers; every time she tried to focus she’d receive a severe blow to the face or body. It was almost like the Sen’khan knew what she was trying to do.
A sudden explosion rocked the ship, momentarily distracting the Sen’khan, and Corsair knew this was their chance, not to fight but to run. He grabbed Z’Cann by the wrist and ran back towards the door they came through but the Sen’khan was once again too quick for them. They reached the door just as their adversary’s powerful hands clamped down on their necks.
“You could have sacrificed yourself to further strengthen the perfect species, the Quel’toth, but I see that is too good for you, animal.” Thae Sen’khan’s razor sharp teeth were inches from Corsair’s face and he lashed out, punching the alien in the jaw, but it was like punching a wall. What’s more, the creature’s seemingly soft black skin was as rough as sandpaper, like a shark, and left his knuckles raw and bloody.
“Ah yes, it is in the nature of animals to lash out when cornered by a predator,” said the Sen’khan. “You cannot help your inferior genes. There is only one use for you now…”
In one effortless motion, the Sen’khan hurled both his captives over the railing and towards the roots of the Dasagroth, over a hundred feet below.
Dragoon’s flagship
“Where are we going, Dragoon?” asked Fallout for the fifth time.
It was several minutes before the self proclaimed god replied, which was an improvement on the previous four times he’d inquired.
"I sensed a power, greater than I’ve ever felt before, its feels somehow…familiar, like I’ve known it all my life…and yet, I’ve never felt it before."
“Sure, that makes a lot of sense, you nutjob!” was what he wanted to say, but what he actually said was, “Why do you want to find this power? If it’s so strong, isn't there a chance it can harm you,”
“Nothing can harm me,” replied Dragoon, more calmly than Fallout had expected.
“Ok, but maybe we should wait for the rest of the fleet to catch up, just in case."
“No, we’re here."
The ship suddenly exited hyperspace and a massive orange gas giant obscured the entire viewing screen.
Someone thudded on the sealed bridge doors.
“Lord, your faithful servants merely wish to aid you in whatever way we can,” cried the sycophantic Tesk-Nor.
“Damn toadies,” muttered Dragoon. "You fear me, don’t you, child?” Fallout nodded. "And yet you don’t cower before me. You speak to me truly, and that is what makes you worthy."
“Worthy of what?” asked the mutant.
“Come, it is time." With a simple gesture of his hand, Dragoon created a sphere of energy around the pair. Fallout grimaced when he realized the god was using the powers he stole from Magnus. The metal walls of the bridge groaned as they twisted apart, creating an opening to space. Anything that wasn’t bolted down was sucked out into the vortex; he cringed behind his mask as a large chair struck their shield.
With another hand gesture, the massive alien levitated the pair through the opening and into space. Although he’d been in this situation before, Fallout could help but feel a little agoraphobic; the only thing between him and the endless reaches of space was a transparent shield.
It was a surreal experience as Dragoon transported them around the massive gas giant in record time. Seb watched in awe as huge red tinged hurricane, thousands of miles long, raged below them.
And then he saw objects of Dragoon’s obsession; over a dozen alien ships, the likes of which he’d never seen before. Each was jet black and shaped like an elongated pyramid, coming to a wicked point.
“Who are they?” he asked Dragoon.
“I do not know,” he replied, “but the power I seek is in the larger ship.”
It seemed the pair were too small to be of any notice to the alien fleet as they approached their largest ship unmolested, but their rapid approach was suddenly halted as they came into contact with the ship’s shield. Every hair on the human’s body stood on end as bolts of violet energy crackled off the two conflicting shields.
“I will not be halted!” shouted Dragoon to their unseen opponents.
With a look of determination on his terrifying face, the god-made-flesh pressed on, pushing both shields to their limits. Just as Fallout was sure they would both be fried by the energy of the shield, Dragoon slammed his fist against it with a cry of rage, sending a spider web of intense white energy in every direction. Suddenly, all resistance was alleviated, the enemy shield had been shit down or destroyed; Fallout had a feeling this wouldn’t go unnoticed.
Dragoon’s fiery white eyes blazed as he carried them to the hull of the ship; it was indeed made of what appeared to be black crystal and the self-proclaimed god gazed upon it like it was something familiar to him.
“How do we get in?” asked Fallout, though he was sure he already knew the answer.
The massive being didn’t respond, instead he extended both palms towards the ship and fired a blast of intense bluish-white energy, causing a sizable chunk of the crystalline wall to implode inwards. They had their entrance.
Thump! A green skinned alien slammed against their force bubble as it was sucked outside. Fallout only got a glimpse of four flailing arms and three glassy red eyes before it was gone.
Quickly they floated into the ship, and the mutant was thankful his master didn’t disperse their force bubble, because without it he would surely suffocate. Without a word, the armored deity knocked down another wall with a single punch, and then another and another with single minded determination. Dragoon knew exactly where they were going.
It was then that the duo met the owners of the ship face to face: half a dozen gray-skinned aliens fired upon them. Each stood at roughly nine feet tall, with two sets of arms and a reptilian head whose dominant feature was a triangular set of three glassy red eyes. Dragoon incinerated them all with a simple semicircular arc of black energy.
The ground shook beneath their feet as the being once known as the Chaos Bringer blasted everything in their way until at last he stood before the owner of the power he’d been searching for.
“Finally, I’ve found you at last! You’re not at all what I was expecting!”
The Starjammer
The trip through the bizarre white dimension had been a tumultuous one; it was clear the Starjammer was not built to handle such a journey, and yet it survived virtually undamaged. While the white dimensioned looked peaceful enough it was a testament to the phrase 'looks can be deceiving'...gravimetric errors, sudden power surges and constant turbulence were just some of the problems encountered on their journey.
Baby Yana had yowled like a banshee for most of the trip before eventually crying herself to sleep; it was almost as if she could sense the tension in the air. Kurt had told his full story to Ch’od and Raza, detailing from his 'birth' in the cloning facility right up until Corsair’s capture. It was clear the two Starjammers blamed him for Corsair’s abduction but they were willing to accept any help he could possibly offer.
“Sensors say they’re returning to normal sspace!” exclaimed Ch’od.
On the screen they could clearly make out a massive black 'tear' in the white space, dotted with sparkling white stars. The Quel’toth ships passed through the tear into regular space with ease, and the Starjammer followed suit.
“Thiss white dimension must have be some sort of dimensional shortcut or alternative to hyperdrive,” speculated Ch’od.
“We can worry about the dynamics of alien space travel later, friend, right now we have to focus on rescuing Corsair and Z’Cann,” replied Raza.
Nightcrawler, who had remained silent since he finished relating his story, spoke up when he noticed a large orange gas giant nearby.
“Computer, bring up a display of this solar system!” he ordered.
“I have a name thank you,” replied Waldo testily as he brought up a hologram displaying a bright yellow sun orbited by nine planets.
“Now focus on that planet,” he said, pointing at the third planet.
Waldo zoomed in, revealing a small green and blue world.
“Mein Gott!” cried Kurt. “That’s Earth!”
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To Be Continued...
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