400 Years into the future... Dameo


The planet was dead. At first, it wasn't due to war or from some sort of enemy attack but from choice. The very definition of life had changed as the mechanical paradise of the machines stretched between land and sea.


At last until the Blood arrived. The fight had been brutal and devestating and, in the end, inevitable.

The planet was to be a shrine to the glory of the Taj Dameun.


Now, it was just a shrine to yet another civilization conquered by the Blood.


The very technology of the Dragons had been rendered useless by the overpowering force of the Blood's natural psionic abilities, their many machines kept separate from each other and unprotected from the elements as time continued it's march onward.


As the Blood moved across the desert oceans of discarded silicone and various metals, the dead still roamed under the radar of those occupying the former capital of the Dragons.


After 400 years those remaining of the old Dragon Empire had developed new and unique ways of existing amid the wanderings of the creatures, both big and small, across the Dameo landscape.


And, over the forty centuries, a few of the old Dragons elevated the nature of their existence (such as it was).


Those elevated called themselves Dracconis and viewed themselves as different than the inferior Dragons who failed in the Taj's wishes to wipe the scourge of the Blood from the Galaxy.









"Sanctus ... Sanctus ... Sanctus ... Dominus Deus Sabaoth ... "



Diosynes sat unmoving as the ancient protocol was whispered once more. The old chant did not move him as it had a forty centuries ago. A waste really for Dracconis had no need for voice transmission but they dared not use their newfound abilities lest, like lightning rods, they drew the power of the Blood towards them.


It was put forth as a concession made by the elevated Dracconis for the benefit of those that called themselves their brothers, those remaining attached to the archaic institution called the Black Dragon Empire but Diosynes knew better.


It was because deep down they felt fear. Each nanosecond an eternity waiting to find out if the Blood will discover them today or not.


A refusal to believe the truth.


That they had been humbled.


Humility!


The word gave the matrix of Diosynes a sense of distaste. A word of flesh that should have had no meaning for Dracconis.


"Pleni sunt caeli et terra ... Gloria tua ... "


Diosynes was both saddened and amused at the quaint tradition.

Gloria tua, indeed!


Does not one see the irony of the words uttered by flesh that no longer exist?

Even in this we follow blindly. No. Not just blindly but in futility!




"Raktus in excelsis ... Benedictus qui venit ... in Nomine Domini ... "


And even Diosynes had to lower his visage in acknowledgement of that which lead all. Even if the Taj did remain attached to the obsolete. That the Taj evolved to the power he wielded Diosynes did not question. It was well recorded and entrenched in Mystery.

But in the very thought lay the contrast and the paradox.

That the Taj evolved to the power he was...


While he and others evolved further from Dragon to Draconnis, the Taj remained in the form that allowed for their defeat and that fact, if thought of objectively, indicated two results:

That the Taj had reached his pinnacle and could no longer achieve what the Dracconis had and therefore the eventual salvation no longer applicable to the office of the Taj.

Or, that the Dracconis did not, in fact, represent the correct evolutionary path for Dameun. What the flesh called "the dead" so many centuries ago.


But how could Diosynes not represent the correct path? The Dracconis were in every way superior and technological evolution compelled them to eventually replace that which was obsolete.


If for no other reason than to establish, once more, the station in the galaxy for their supreme way of life.


But such thoughts, while logical, if applied to the Taj, resulted in heresy.



Even in this vanquished age.








"Visyon, what troubles your matrix?"

The Dracconis had left the ceremony early and Diosynes found him overlooking the heavily mined mineral Valley of Caerna. The blackened dust travelled skyward blotting out the sun (a condition that had been for decades) creating a truly remarkable beauty all it's own.

Dormant it lay through the centuries.


Now, Blood spores were growing within the Valley, their psionic currents felt even by him so far away.


He noted the receptacles containing the Phage linked into Matrix were of a different color and an interogative query was transmitted through voice.


"BioLogic" was Visyon's only response, the sound rough as if speaking were painful to the Dracconis.


"The Taj prohibited..." Diosynes began.


"That is because the Taj feels a need to bargain with this not-life!"


If Visyon could have spit in disgust he would have. That he applied a "flesh word" to the Taj was sign enough. Visyon continued transmitting.

"I feel no need to bargain with inferiority. I will take BioLogic if it pleases me. I am of the evolved. My operating matrix does not attempt to integrate with obsolete operating systems. Why the Taj feels it necessary is known only to him."


Diosynes suddenly found insight in the datastream as he responded without any sort of excitement. The humans had all been dead these past few centuries, their conflict with the Blood resulting in their eventual extinction (for all practical purposes).

And so, the machine life left on the few tentative holdings of the old Black Dragon Empire attempted to communicate with the larger creatures of the Blood. It was intimated that the larger of the crab-like/spider-like creatures represented the older ones of their race.


"So the negotiations with the Blood...?"

"...did not go as well as we would have liked. We should have run more calculations regarding the time device."

Diosynes gently smoothed, "How were we to know that the old human Empire had dealings with the Blood? How were we to know that our efforts in the earlier timeline would make matters worse?


We were only to destroy Kaine and unravel all that formed the New Order. In that we performed without fault. Perhaps it was too perfect for humanity is all but gone and the other races cowed."



"And yet we are still dominated by FLESH! First humans and now Blood! They are the only things that stand between us and total integration of the complete Dragon matrix by Dracconis. AND THEY ARE FLESH!"


The capsule had been found within the permutations of the mathematics that allowed for the Dracconis Superior to elevate above what represented Dragon.

The capsule that hinted of the Dracconis plan to attempt the elevation of the Taj Dameun Dragon into Dracconis. A bold plan and one worthy of only the Dracconis mind. And they had executed their plans and by what the Dracconis saw of their time with the Blood occupying almost all areas of the galaxy impressed upon them the fact of their monumental failure.


Still, their arrogance remained. "Tools merely. The Taj offers them immortality."


Visyon would have snorted if he could. "The Taj bargains with flesh! It humbles us before flesh. Unfortunately, we've already been humbled."


Diosynes suddenly became concerned. "Visyon, you are unusually bold this cycle. The Blood will pick up on the waves.."


Visyon suddenly turned from the view to face his fellow Dracconis and the entity he called ally. "It is finished. Soon we will be able to see just how .."


"The device that manipulates time? The theories regarding the first failure.."


"Theories merely, Diosynes. We were...are much, much more. And I tell you another thing: Without the merge of Phage and of BioLogic, it would not have been possible. The mathematics do not lie."


"You are certain?"

"After twenty cycles, I would do well to be. The Taj wasted the glorious creation as mere virus's to flesh. He bestowed on the flesh the advances and benefits of Phage. ON FLESH FIRST! And even now, we pay for that decision.."


"The Taj knows that some defy the Edict. To defy the Edict is to alert the Blood to our presence.."


"The Edict is old. Just like our Taj. He may transfer after so many years but his matrix is old. Too old. The old Dragon will never be able to rid us of the Blood.

Break through the facade, Diosynes. Our Empire is finished. As finished as the humans were centuries ago.

We are merely fossils outliving our usefulness."



"You speak heresy, Visyons!"


"I have the instrument of Truth."


"The time device?"


"Imagine, Diosynes. We have at our mind's call glorious amounts of data to follow the Time Stream back to a point where we can insert ourselves and set our inferior.. 'brothers' on the right path. The entire realm would then evolve to what we are NOW! and sooner! Imagine if Dracconis were on the scene during the early days of the Blood invasion? Imagine if we prevent the earlier mistake?"


"And if the Taj evolves as well?"

"Then we have what we want."

"And if the Taj does not evolve?"


"Then the Taj becomes obsolete, a victim not of us but of the axioms of evolution. WE are not setting out to destroy the Black Dragon Empire. We set out to improve it! To bring it back to life. To rectify the mistake of before. We set out to end the dominance of the flesh in the galaxy, whether human or Blood."


Diosynes would have smiled if he could. "We set out to purge the land."

"And once the land is purged, the Taj would recognize our contributions and know that it was by the hand of evolution that we embarked on this... this... Crusade!"


Diosynes felt something stir within his matrix. "But what of the Blood. They will stop us if they detect the time device."


Visyon matrix shifted and Diosynes sensed amusement.

"Come, my brother."





The part of the city was old. Very old as the forgotten carbon walls lay in a state of neglect. With the sunlight drowned out by machine vigilance few plantlife could be seen. And those that were, were a combination of machine and tissue.


Forced evolution...


Diosynes did not recognize what he saw even though the general area was known.

There were a few others of the Dracconis here that were diligent in whatever task they had set themselves on. He found that Viosynes was leading him towards those working.


A slab had been unearthed.

An unmarked, smooth slab.

"Carbon?" Diosynes inquired.

"Not carbon like the broken walls that surround us. Carbonite."

"I've never heard of it.."

"It is a flesh device. A very ancient flesh device."


"HERE?" Suddenly Diosynes' matrix was uncomfortable. "Blood?"


"Look"


Visyons looked at the rather advanced scanning device and aimed at the smooth slab. A visage formed on the monitor and Diosynes' matrix recoiled automatically.

"IMPOSSIBLE! The quantifiers of paradox would surely..."

Visyons again showed amusement but also confided, "I reacted the same way when I first found it."

Diosynes gaze turned back to the monitor.


And there: scarred, scorched, and broken though unmistakable...



...was the visage of Grevious.



Yet again....



What are the odds of it happening again?


Diosynes suddenly felt an uncomfortably growing suspicion.



Who was manipulating whom?

Imperial Center, Imperial High Command


Strategic Planning Room -
Themein War, 27th year after the fall of the Belkaden Line





"Bhindi broke their backs!" came a runner into the planning room as Kaine was shaken from his sleep.

He was awake instantly.

"When?" he demanded looking at the flickering projection change with the data being entered.

"Two days ago!"

A mental calculation was done and Kaine turned to those men and women manning the respective holonet terminals. "Get the word out! Set the rendezvous mark at Outpost 6512."

"Sir?"

"They will know. Now execute!" The Emperor's words ended harshly and his people jumped as if whipped.



Ciscero, where are you?



And in that instant, an explosion shook the entire room.

"SHIELD GENERATOR! THE DAMN BUGS ARE MOVING OVER THE ADMIN DISTRICT! THEY'RE HERE! THEY'R---" and the voice coming in over the personal comms went dead.

"KEEP RELAYING! NOW!" Shouted Kaine as to the others who had stopped at the message.


Brilliant! The Imperial Forces were moving outward and would have to backtrack to engage those of the Blood that seem to be flanking us!


Kaine knew the instant his forces did that, the Blood would counter attack and smash his retreating forces on the front.

The Blood had forced his hand and there was no more time.

It was an order that he knew eventually he would have had to give but how he dreaded and hated too.

The mere thought a bitter pill to swallow.


He looked up as Theren Gevel walked in calmly despite the large bright shadow being cast by the power generator explosion outside.

The roar was loud even though several kilometers out.

The Emperor could see in his Praetor's eyes that he too understood what needed to happen.


"The Bastion Conclave is our last line of defense. Throw what is left of the Corps, the Inquisitoriate and your own Praetorians in the grinder, Theren. They need to buy our forces time to get out.

We are abandoning the Center."


Theren stood rock hard as his teeth under his cheek began to grind.

"Get Marus out of here." was all he said though he communicated volumes to his Emperor.


Not you too Theren?


And the Praetorian of the Empire walked out and Kaine shoved emotion down. It was time to make the hard decisions.


"Initiate the Apocalypse Protocols." he barked into his communicator. "Remain until your transmission get's through. If you leave your post before that happens," he motioned for several Spartans to stand behind each transmitter, weapons at the ready, "then you will be shot. I suggest you get what you need done quickly."


As he too stepped out of the planning room large plasma volleys were filling the air crossing the space leveling anything in the Blood's path gouging numbers from their ranks in midair.


"At least they won't take it without a fight!"


With Theren playing his final cards, there was only one last move to make that would either give them the break they needed or would spell their galaxy's Endgame.


"Endgame..." he murmured, smiling faintly at one of his few remaining good memories.







And, retreating away from the bright center of the galaxy, the Imperial Home Fleet retreated taking what soldiers and material they could before being overrun by the Blood.


The silent white dots vanished from sight as the fleet made the jump to hyperspace to fight another day.


Theren Gevel tore his gaze from the sky prepared to marshall what remaining resources they would need to survive and stay alive until the Blood was broken.

At least Marus would see that day!


He knew it was a futile hope but one untruth that he clung too despite all.


Whatever happened, he knew that history would mark this day:



Themein War, the 27th year after the fall of the Belkaden Line... when Coruscant fell to the Blood.



"Fuck," he murmured into the wind as he began to move with a purpose.

Yaga Minor/Garqi Defense Line


The massive vessels of the Black Fleet were in an impressive line formation that shouted their dominance of the region. It was a rare sight in this forsaken, Blood-run galaxy.

Or so Moff Telan Desaria thought as the Grand Imperial Guard exited hyperspace. He had taken the Guard throughout the treacherous and dangerous spaceways guarding what was left of the old holonet system, an assignment possibly of more vital necessity than blowing the Blood to pulp.

And as a result, his fleet had the privilege of being one of the first units to learn of Bhindi Drayson's great victory. For the past few years the Blood had been funneling creatures great and small into the Bastion Corridor to open up that quadrant of the galaxy to invasion.

But time and again it was the Black Fleet that intercepted each advance, the resources of the area pulled directly into the Grand Moff's singular war effort.


"Magnificent!" Desaria whispered as his own line formed up and slowed in it's approach.

The Eternal Star Destroyers were monsterous machines of war that were intimidating to look at.

"Line Captain, proceed with data exchange protocols and signal the Black Fleet that the Guard has achieved full terminous."

The Moff relished this small measure of Imperial supremacy enjoying the fact that no race in the galaxy, no faction in the galaxy had either destroyed or beat back an entire invasion force of the Blood.


"Sir..?" came a small voice in the sensor pit and the Moff turned his gaze from Bhindi's magnificent line to the officer who spoke out of order. A stern disciplinarian, Desaria was about to make an example of the officer when the man nearly shouted, finally looking up and around for his commanding officer.

"SIR!"

"Lieutenant, you had better have a good reason for this outburst." the Moff crisply spoke each word allowing it to sink in.

"Sir, there are no heat blooms in the Black Fleet!"

Moff Desaria looked at the factured TAC display noting that the Guard line was crossing threshold perpendicular to the Black Fleet. They would soon be crossing the Defense Line's "T", as the old naval expression went. But now a Defense Line of cold ships?

"Hail Grand Moff Drayson." ordered Desaria and a flickering hologram came instantly into view. So bad was the reception that only the cutaway of Bhindi's face was visible.

Gone were the days of whole holographic projection, much to Desaria's dismay.

"Grand Moff, I congratulate you on your glorious victory!" Telan's deep voice echoed on the bridge of his flagship. "But I must ask if your fleet is in need of assistance? Our sensors are showing no heat blooms.."

A normal ship gives off heat. Heat generated from a thousand different systems in a thousand different ways. That a ship is without heat typically suggests a ship dead in space and open to vacuum.

The holographic image of Drayson's face looked as if the girl had been carved in marble. Her features seemed hardened but still youthful in appearance. Evidently, the life of constant war had driven away whatever good mood or mirth that had been there before.

The mouth opened and a voice devoid of compassion came through.

"Moff Desaria, we welcome the return of the Guard. As for the Line, yes, they are cold. You will find that the Blood sink their teeth into the first vessel they come across. Better it be a dead ship than a live one. With them distracted, we attack.

It still is not easy but they are animals, after all."


Desaria's Executive Officer walks up and shivers at the dispassionate tone Drayson has as she recounts her battle tactics.


The Moff shows nothing but admiration for the tenacity of a woman hailing as the once youngest Grand Moff in the history of the Empire and nods his head in appreciation at her tactically gifted mind. Such a cold thing but pretty in a deadly sort of way, even at her age.

"Have the Guard turn and cross the Defense Line!" he orders regally and is at once envisioning a Grand Ball were he appears resplendent and unattached at the palace of Bhindi Drayson.

He wonder's if she is of royalty as the holographic representation of the Grand Moff disappears.










Holographic technology, even in the state found among the broken and scarred vessels of war within the Empire, functions with an ease that staggers the mind.

Able to extrapolate from even half formed incomplete sources and send digitally across the spacial distances in speeds rivaling all methods of galactic travel, few technological breakthroughs have been as revolutionary to life.

However, while the system works, despite misuse and damage as in the case of Moff Desaria and Bhindi Drayson's communication, what begins to fail is the full extrapolation of any detail from the source.

For instance, the gleam that penetrated the eyes of Grand Moff Bhindi Drayson as she impressed Moff Desaria with her battle tactics.


A gleam that did not wholly translate onto the holographic palate that eventually turned into the visible form for Desaria to respond too.

And so that little bit of digital information, that gleam, returned back along the spacial stream towards the source. A ship stationed behind a rather large derelict. A ship with a heat bloom and a control room of computer terminals that served as a hub for the Grand Moff in directing her strategies.

And in the middle of this command hub, she sat, her eyes staring coldly out at where the holographic projection of Moff Telan Desaria had been moments before.


Her eyes cold but for the gleam that seemed to suggest enjoying the insidious pleasure of accomplishment.

And then the gleam retreated.


From behind her eyes and in their place was left an absence of intelligence. As if some presence had stepped away from a particularly transparent, milky-white glass to some unknown locale.


Her features were as white as death itself.


And out from behind her open head crawled a creature of the Blood, it's dark beady eyestalks set to join the thousands of it's kind as they scurried across the floor in search of survivors.


And out in space, behind the floating ships of the Black Fleet rested six Quoroms of the Blood, their eager fangs waiting for the ships of the Imperial Guard to mingle... waiting for the right moment to strike.


The trap was ready.

Krake's Planet...



The droids marched into the settlement and as Ciscero and the Black Hand Agent watched, the creatures of the Blood soon became visible moving rapidly over to the intruders.

These were the caretaker creatures; creatures whose sole purpose was to make sure that the mind blinding link from the inhabitants of the settlement to a larger (more telekinetic) creature close by remained intact and that the imprisoned inhabitants remained alive long enought to fulfill their tasks.

The droids began shooting at the caretaker creatures, breaking apart their carapace shells easily. A loud shrill filled the air as the creatures died.

Ciscero kept his distance from the fight coming up to a figure of a man with a blank look in his eyes. The Intelligence agent slipped the cap over the man's head and before the cap was firmly in place the man put his hands to his head screaming loudly.

Ciscero stepped back in shock and the man went to his knees shaking uncontrollably.

Almost like a reaction by a man being denied a drug of his addiction, he thought coldly.

"Wha---Where am I?" he rasped out, slurring his words, still in obvious pain.

"Krake's Planet." Ciscero replied glancing around at the droids destruction of the creatures showing themselves. So far the plan was working.

"I remember being on Naboo... the Blood.. they were coming.." the man coughed as he spoke.

"That was ten years ago.." the Imperial answered.

The man sat down, rocked by the news. "Ten years..." he mumbled, saliva starting to escape the corners of his mouth.

"It's close.." he mumbled before the information provided by his newly freed senses overwhelmed the man causing him to faint.



As if on cue, the ground began to shake and a massive leg of a creature showed itself coming out of the sand a ways off. It was truly one of the larger creatures of the Blood and as it began to rise, Ciscero shouted into his comlink.

"NOW!"


Above, a modified Shroud decloaked and lauched several torpedoes at the creature. With a crew wearing the cap that blocked the Blood's psionic projections, the modified Shroud was invisible to the Blood's senses.


The Shroud unloaded it's entire compliment of torpedos as the creature as it finally succumbed to the brutal onslaught.

As it died, the prisoners under the control of the Blood's overpowering mind found themselves free and suffering as the one Ciscero rescued.


But it worked!


The Blood could not detect the soldiers with the psionic blocks nor the droids and they had dealt a devestating blow.


Now to find the Emperor!

400 Years into the future... Dameo



"Raktus in excelsis ... "


The shadow of the Great Taj moved ever slowly across the broken bits of ancient hardware and discarded machina. Here were the ashes of a once great Imperium, the Black Dragon Empire.

An Imperium shattered just as much of the galaxy was. And even as his great intellect pondered action and counter action against the thread of the Blood whose shadow dominated every facet of the life of flesh, a part of him (a small part) realized that what is, is not what was and should not determine what will be.

As his perceptions moved past the skeletons of servants no longer useful he knew that they all existed in an unreality and he knew, to his smoldering anger, the cause.

As he watched the Dracconis move about their plots and plans, he realized that soon the plan would bear results.

In reality, the arrogant Empire had dared to challenge a God and while they had rendered his beloved Dameo into a wasteland of sandy silicone, he pushed his servants farther than their forced evolution dared to go.

New brances of thought in escape of the Edict, while distasteful, were necessary. Conventional machina had become monotonous in it's search of excellence and, like any living thing, needed a catalyst to bring about brilliance.

The Draconnis, with their addiction to Phage and with the help of BioLogic, had come into a brilliance that would only bring about more glory for the all-encompassing Taj. It was the reason for his divine tolerance for the Dracconis lifestyle.

And his brilliant, subservient minds had found a way to turn their misfortune onto a path of redemption. To change the past and thus rewrite history. A task only fit for a God.

And so, his charges had travelled back to prevent Simon Kaine from destroying the Regent Daemon Hyfe in the facade of launching the Galactus. If that death could be prevented....

A whole universe of possibilities opened up. For as the Taj studied this man of flesh, this 'Kaine', he knew that the time was a turning point for the man. He still waivered in misbegotten sentiment and still not come into the resolve of steel that would later describe his reign as Emperor.

No. A living Daemon Hyfe would keep Kaine in check and prevent his ultimate rise.

Such was the will of the Taj and such was the mission carried out by a Dracconis.

And change the past he did.

The fake-Galactus was launched. Daemon Hyfe and Simon Kaine had their confrontation and before Kaine could follow through on his solidifying resolve, the Dracconis intervened. In the end, sentiment took hold once more and Daemon Hyfe lived and was crowned the Empire's second Emperor.

Simon Kaine went back to the shadows and the future was an unwritten slate once more. The Imperium of the Black Dragon continued to evolve.

And then the Themien War.

The invasion of the galaxy by the Blood.

In the previous history, it was realized that a strong Emperor in Kaine had set out to build up such a storehouse of weaponry and armaments that when the invasion did happen, the forces of a fortified Empire were hurled at the Blood thus ending their short entrance into the history of the galaxy.

With Kaine no longer emperor and with Hyfe in charge, different priorities reigned so when the Blood did invade, Kaine, as Supreme Commander still fought with what was in his arsenal but, to the tragedy for all flesh, it was not enough.

The Blood broke through the Belkaden Line and since then the reinforcement lines from the Belkaden Spacial 'Rip' between galaxies continued to funnel more and more of the Blood into their new homes.

It was truly the twilight of flesh and though it was a prospect the Taj relished, the Blood were truly a horror to behold. He knew that there would be no discussions or agreements. The Blood were little more than animals and would simply consume until there was no more want.

But, with flesh, with life, there was always 'want'.

The Taj realized it when the flesh retreated from Belkaden space and he knew it now. Had realized it when the flesh embarked upon their plans and marshalled the last of their strength.

Had realized it when their plan ultimately failed.

That was why he had arranged for his General, pulled from the wreckage of the smashed Imperium Fleet and interred in carbonite.

With everything at stake and everything falling to pieces, the Taj took great efforts to see His will carried out.

For in the end, this living nightmare of a galaxy needed to be erased as well.

And time was running out.

There would be nothing left after this. Flesh had been all but hunted to extinction four hundred years after the last great clash between Flesh and Blood.

Four hundred years of futility bought by Kaine. But four hundred years that allowed the Taj to act outside the Blood's perception to rework the necessary materials and evolutionary processes to bring the Draconnis back to the point from which they started.

And so, finally, the Dracconnis had found the carbonite tomb of General Grevious. His unique organic/mechanical enhancements hailed him as the best choice to survive the long centuries for a droid's powersource would have eventually decayed.

And now, his Dracconis would have one final chance at redemption.

The Taj could feel his strength ebbing for the creation of yet another Time Device, without the Blood's knowing, had taken it's toll after a few centuries.

The Blood were everywhere!

Their psionic minds scouring the galaxy for the final hold-out remnants of flesh. And then, when all flesh was eliminated, they would find the last (native) shining intelligences of the galaxy: The Dragon Imperium and their God, the Taj.

Or at least, what was left of it. The Taj glanced at the great cavern that had held the remants of their mechanical civilization together under the surface of Dameo for these past four centuries.


If the Dracconis failed him, then all of this, everything that they were would be lost.


It would all end and as the Taj reflected on this, he felt no pity and no doubt.


For if this was the end, what an end he would make it!


An End only a God could contrive.


Let us not speak of endings... but of beginnings.


An old quote. And one now fully appropriate.


And amid the dusty remains of a long dead Empire, the Taj smiled as everything was turning out just as he had arranged them too...



My General Grevious awakens!

Belkaden



Coruscant was burning. Kaine had burned the bridge behind them as the last great fleet of the aliance between Imperial, Coalition, Dragon and oddly former New Republic heroes gathered for one great attack to close the rip in space. To prevent the Blood from coming through.

With the reports of Drayson's fleet enroute, accompanied by Telan Desaria's Corps, the left flank was covered. The bulk of the Empire's resources were going to hold the center and the Coalition and Lightsiders would carry the right. The Dragons were in critical reserve and, he hoped, the ace up his sleeve.

He thought back to the day Emperor Hyfe died, in the early days of the Themien Invasion. Then the Themiens were the glove over the hand of the Blood. They were treacherous and had assassinated Daemon thinking to cut off the head and let the Blood have the flaying body of Empire.

Theren Gevel maintained the infrastructure of Empire solid giving Kaine the time he needed to reorganize. It was a sharp blow but one that the Themiens could not take advantage of for the war was still on Belkaden, lightyears away from any government's seat of power.

And now, here he was, in a desperate bid and he wondered if it would be enough.

"My Lord, Hyperspacial Terminus."

And the fleet reverted to realspace, the tiny sphere of Belkaden before them and the Emperor and crew gaped as they saw two things before them.

One were the Quoroms of the Blood laying in wait and two, the rip of space behind the planet had grown....

As the telemetry came in, another, a third suprise appeared.


Where Bhindi Drayson's and Telan Desaria's fleet was supposed to be was another Quorom. The enemy was on their left flank!


And at that moment, Simon Kaine, Emperor of what was left of the Empire, knew he was going to die.

Memories flooded through him that brought up a sharp bitter disappointment.

A life wasted.


Kaine's lip curled into a sneer as he stared out at the lead creature, as large as a Star Destroyer.

"It's not over yet!" he whispered harshly.


And with a final defiance that was the inherent trait of all creatures of flesh when faced with the inevitable, the fleet attacked!

Enroute to Coruscant, Imperial Center



"We can't get through, Sir." the exhausted Comm Officer relayed to the Intelligence Agent.

Ciscero had been utilizing every trick in the book to rally the half-formed but vital assets prepared on a whim by the Emperor. The fact that the numbers were not what he had hoped for only informed him of truly how desperate the Empire was and how crippled their resources.

We are spent!

"Try an emergency encryption. Here's the key.." Ciscero fired out yet another secret of Imp Intel knowing that the time for subtly was past. A holographic image began to flicker, lose solidarity and then reform.

"Ciscero." came the dark voice and the agent immediately looked at a grim Theren Gevel.

"I need to speak to the Emperor! The hunch played out! It works!" the agent nearly shouted ignoring the monotone voice of the Praetor.

"The Palace District fell two hours ago. All units have been routed.." he mentioned emotionless, arresting Ciscero's attention.

"Where.." he started when Gevel interrupted him. "Do not approach Coruscant! We're beaten! Two Quoroms have entered our space and have begun landing. In another couple of hours, they will know what we know.."

"The Emperor.." Ciscero started to ask, fearing the worst.

"The attack on Belkadan has been launched. Your orders are to send everything you've got, anything you've got into play and destroy the Blood once and for all."

"With a Quorum on my ass?" Ciscero bit back sharply. Already the Captain of the Shroud had begun preparations to shut down the hyperdrive and bring their craft out of lightspeed before reaching the Capital System.

Theren Gevel had a calm about him that belied the situation and he actually took a moment to glance around and appreciate his surroundings.

"What is it about us humans that enables us to destroy ourselves along with the enemy?" he casually asked. He turned to Ciscero and grinned. "I am inside 'The Tower'."

Ciscero immediately grasped the implications. The 'Tower' was thought to be a narrow communications building that stretched high into the sky powered by an immense generator underneath. That was, however, only a facade. For while it was powered by an immense underground generator, he was no building but a super laser aimed directly back down into Coruscant.

A doomsday device.

And Ciscero realized (as he knew Theren would as well) that the resulting black hole singularity that would form with the destruction of the capital world would be enough to rip to shreds any trace of the enemy.

There would be no Blood on their trail.

"Good hunting," Ciscero whispered and the hologram of Theren's serious nod flickered off.


"Hyperspacial Terminus.." came the automatic response as the craft's engines powered down and the lights suddenly compressed into pin-point destinations once more.


The crew of the Shroud watched one particular pinprick identified as the Capital.


And, all of sudden.... the pin-point light disappeared.


And a heavy feeling overcame the agent as the enormity of what just happened sank in.


Imperial Center was gone.


The casualty list of the Themien War just went up a few billion. Quite a few billion.


And Ciscero felt as if he would throw up.


No more! he vowed angrily and ordered the ship turned towards the coordinates that would take them into the heart of the Blood's foothold on their galaxy. Their universe. Belkaden.


The last hand of Sabaac to be played.


Ciscero hoped he just didn't bet everything on a bluff...

Belkaden


"Sir, the front lines are collapsing!" the scans showed that the final gambit by the desperate people of the Coursca galaxy was failing. There was just no combating the mental fields cast by the older, larger Blood. Even at their distance from the front, the feeling of fear and depression were almost overwhelming.

The mental push of telepathy by the creatures blunted the knife of their drive and some of the forward elements began to fight among themselves making them easy targets for the real enemy, the smaller creatures of the Blood.

The Quoroms began to come against both the forward and flank lines, their large creatures to the front casting the will of the Blood over not only Kaine's fleet but also pushing their own against him even at the expense of their lives.

For what was life to the Blood? They were creatures who fed upon the weak and kept coming until either they overwhelmed or were all killed.

Survival of the fittest.


And the Coursca galaxy was deemed unfit against the might of the Blood.

The computerized tactical display showed their last chance dying before his eyes.

No matter how valiant, no matter how brave or courageous they were, there was just no defeating something that could turn you against yourself.

He knew what he had to do.

He signaled the New Republic and other non-Imperial elements of their hodge-podge of ships and gave a final order.



His old enemy, Trajan Vespian, had been standing next to Lando Calrissian, the President of what was left of the Anti-Imperial ideology, and had questioned the merits of his plan.

"There IS no more time!" he had shouted. "If this does not work... nothing will!"

And Kaine did the unthinkable from a tactical viewpoint: He split his fleet.


From a human (even an alien) standpoint, the move was confusing. The logic of what was happening to the fleet was simply.. absent. The Blood only saw that the numbers of the enemy were being thinned. An Imperial, though, would see the move and be perplexed. And so while the fighter squadrons of the fleet bought precious moments with their life, the nature of the forces facing the Blood changed.


Under the command of President Calrissian, the remaining ships of both the Empire and other factions ralleyed under him leaving Kaine with the vessels of his choosing.

They were not the largest ships of the Empire but they were the most stout for the Emperor kept only one type of ship with him. A Reign Class Star Destroyer.

Arguably one of the strongest, well put together ships in the entire Imperial arsenal, it's tough construction was not the only reason Kaine kept the class of ship to him.

It was the fact that the ship's AI could function without a crew.

"Slave all Reigns to the Galactus AI and prepare to carry out my final orders.." he whispered.


If there was one intelligence the Blood could not yet exert control over, it was that of artificial intelligence.

With no biologics, the Blood had nothing to use to divide Kaine's fleet against itself making the warships tough nuts to crack. With no biologics to eliminate, they would have trouble stopping ships run entirely by AI.

"At your command," came the response of his Exec and Kaine nodded.

"It's been a pleasure, sir." the man added and Kaine looked at him momentarily shaking off the feelings of despair that were increasing due to the Blood's mental push.

"Execute." he ordered and suddenly he felt a great wave of relief.

As if a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

The computerized voice sounded overhead but Kaine's mind was becoming too foggy to notice.

"Fleet Environment Control Systems shutdown."


Kaine blinked his eyes as dark spots began to form at the corners of his vision. His breathing began to become labored as the air thinned.

"Control Systems Locked" the computer verified and suddenly the ship began to bank, it's AI taking over and issuing commands to the Reigns slaved to it.




*


The Galactus, the largest Reign Class warship in existence, along with it's fleet of fellow Reign Class warships, lit up the space around them as the computers went to work systematically and methodically smashing into the Quorom formations.

Whether the gamble would work or not no one would know.

The remaining fleet made the jump forward toward the rift in the space surrounding Belkaden.


*


Kaine's eyes had done dark and he could vaguely make out the ship's weapons systems firing.

His body was lying on the deck as was the rest of the crew and he wondered, as his mind struggled in vain to fight for life, if he had made the right decision.

And as his mind shut off a surge of images flickered past a life that some might make out, in the grand scheme of things, rather irrelevant.


An image of his smiling mother.

An image of his father...

An image of marching into Corsucant..

An image of Regrad and he playing a game..

Of triumphs and tragedies...

Of the Golden Age of the Empire he had helped usher in...

And of it's Fall to the Blood that he would witness...


Was it all worth it?


"Mya.." he whispered as the last ficker of life left him forever..




Simon Kaine had died.

Lando Calrissian and Trajan Vespian stared in near disbelief as the fleet of Reign Class Star Destroyers cut a swath of bloody destruction throughout the ranks of the attacking Quorom.

Bits and pieces of the Blood battered off the advancing hulls of the Imperial warships, a testament to the first real failure of the Blood to stop an attack from any creature from the Coursca galaxy.


"The bloody creatures are pulling away!" a sensor officer who was really too young for the position yelled out and President Calrissian growled, feeling the pyschological battering of his mind by these telepathic species lessen.


"They think they can take us at their leisure so they are turning their attention to the greater threat! Kaine's Reigns!"

"I would be of a mind to be offended if I wasn't totally relieved myself," Trajan whispered trying to think past his massive headache. "We cannot take much more of this!"

"How is Kaine bloody doing it? How did he figure out a defense against their mental assaults and why didn't the bastard inform us!?"

"Sir? The Imperial Reigns are showing no lifesigns."

"What?!" Lando and Vespian looked at each other, understanding suddenly dawning.

"AI!"




And while the ramifications of what was happening raced through their minds, an Imperial Shroud was pushing it's existing speed barrier for Belkaden.

*


Azguardia Prime




High Lord and Prime Minister Regrad marvelled every time he jumped into Azguardian space. The plethora of shipyards and materials scattered about were a testament to his species dedication to this holy war against the Blood.

After the Battle of Algeron, the Coalition had changed strategies to keep themselves in the fight and prepare for the future. He was hailed as a madman when he diverted funds to the capture of asteriods, comets and other source of raw materials converting their inner solar system into one large manufacturing facility complete with shipyards transported from unprotected areas of the Coalition.

Azguardia was now completely overpopulated and even still, the people of the Coalition worked like slaves in near unbearable conditions to stay one step ahead of the Blood.

With Mon Calamari having fallen, he regretted there would be no more living MC-class vessels anymore. What few he had he would not risk anymore in open combat with the Blood for they amounted to what was left of the Mon Calamari as a race.

The twelve large, Galactic Guns covering just about every entrance into the system were comforting and gave the impression to all those seeing them that the Coalition could hold out till doomsday.

Unfortunately, Doomsday had come.

The Blood's attack on Mon Calamari indicated to the Azguard that they were starting a push through the old Black Dragon Empire and outward towards their location.

It was only a matter of time until the Blood came and so preparations had to be started now.

There was no more time.



He walked down the Grand Hall of the Parliament Palace, his cloak of leather swaying as his talon tapped the tile beneath him. Rows and rows of Azguard soldiers were standing at attention knowing that the time had come for their ultimate sacrifice.

Many had called them over the years zealots and fanatics but now such name-calling had grown silent. For it was such zeal that everyone in the galaxy would need if it was to survive.

Walking into the Parliament Building he strode over to Luke Skywalker, who was addressing the members about the latest updates garnered from the fickle holonet.

"The attack on Belkaden has commenced and the Empire has reported a great victory in the West. Grand Moff Drayson is said to have stopped the Blood cold."

Regard frowned at the Jedi Grand Master for the human seemed not to share everyone's enthusiasm over the news.

As Luke turned to Regrad, the Azguard saw the familiar inward wince as he knew the Jedi was remembering how Jedi Dolash had given his life on Naboo during the Blood attack so that Skywalker could live. Why the sight of Regrad brought such a painful memory to the fore was not immediately known but he hesitated allowing the man the privacy of his thoughts for the moment.

"You do not think this good news?" he finally ventured.

Luke's sad eyes flickered downward as if the man were debating whether to tell his friend that his wife was sleeping with a Dark Lord of the Sith, his favorite starship had just blown up and that his Gods were merely Hutts in disguise and that the planet had run out of ketchup. As it turned out, Luke's comment was much much worse.

"I do not want to go to sleep anymore," he replied bleakly. "I cannot take the visions anymore."

A Communication's Officer entered the room handing a note to Skywalker and Regrad saw his shoulders slump a little more. "It seems that our astronomical telescopes have lost sight of Coruscant. There is now a black space where it's pinpoint was located."

Regrad at first thought of that the telescopes were on the fritz again until the full import of the message sunk in.

Coruscant.

The shining gem and capital of the galaxy for many a millenia was now no more.

The High Lord was silent for a moment speaking a prayer for the dead billions and after a moment, raised his head to the Parliament members and remaining functionaries of the Coalition government and said, "It is time to launch Project Hope. I was hoping for more time but I feel that with the attack on Mon Calamari, we will be next. The Blood have an amazing ability to wrestle knowledge from their captives and our position is no longer secure.

The message must be relayed before the holonet closes forever and we frankly do not have much more time."


"Once we send the message, the Blood will be on their way!" a member remarked, his fear very vivid.


"So we hope that our allies can smash as many of them as possible over Belkaden!"


"How?!" someone else nearly shouted.


"If anyone can, Emperor Kaine can!" Regrad answered back. "And he's got help!"


He turned to a waiting Comm Officer, "Prepare the transmitter!"