(2099 Unlimited)
NOVA 2095: PATROL
Written by Bowie Sessions ([email protected])
Edited by ?
FOREWORD
The Xandarian SpaceCorps is the finest judicial force of the Universe, the Police of all the known Galaxies – their forces consist of thousands upon thousands of Corpsman comprised of hundreds of different alien races. In their rank structure, their most elite are Nova Centurions entrusted with an entire Supercluster, given two assistants beneath them to patrol Galaxies within it.
This is the story of one Nova Centurion, a Galadorian man who rather than enlisting in their own elite corps of the Rom Knights became a Galactic Protector in the Xandarian SpaceCorps. It was supposed to be a slow night like any other.
This is not the story of SHIELD Agent Errol Chen. However, it will be.
[the outskirts of Las Vegas, NEVADA]
The screen comes to life to show a clean faced man, apparently Asian with tightly cut black hair in a bird-crested uniform and a desert at night behind him. “Sir, we’ve come across a possible emplaced explosive,” reports junior agent Agent Chen, saluting his senior Agent Jeffries.
“Give me a SITREP,” Jeffries asks, inquisitively, eyes snapping up from the illuminated hologram of the board before him where he examines 3D mapping of the terrain that surrounds the dangerous site that has become the province of a mad Clown Prince and threat to the nation.
“Papa Uniform Zeerow-Two-Zeerow-Ait-Niner-One-Six-Zeerow-Two-Fife, golden cylinder – unknown height, its buried in the sand. We can see the peak of what seems to be a red star emblem above two holes in its fore. It’s also releasing a loud klaxon, sir… but not on any audible spectrum the human can hear. Possibly a transmitter of some kind. We don’t know if it’s a bomb, a trip wire…”
Jeffries nods, “Understood. I’m en route. Give me video?” The camera focuses, showing an enlarged view of the visible cylinder, just as Agent Chen described it. It is buried too deep to see much detail. Could that be a helmet, Jeffries wonders? “ETA one fife mikes. Do. Not. Touch. It. Agent Jeffries Out.”
Agent Chen goes back to looking at the rubble when the screen dies on him, cutting him off. Could that be a helmet, Chen wonders?
Agent Chen continues to toy with his surveillance equipment as he tries to find the noise on their sensors. As he turns one more dial, the sound suddenly records in the system, first incomprehensible jargon before it translates. The screen scrolls with text as the system synchs with the broadcast, allowing Chen to stare as the helmet’s star glows a bright red.
{ - - THIS IS THE RECORD LOG OF XANDARIAN SPACE CORPSMAN, REN TOSH, NOVA CENTURION, IDENT RT512KEL7. STATE REQUEST. - - }
“Agent Chen, over. Sir, you might want to see this…”
{ - - THIS IS THE RECORD LOG OF XANDARIAN SPACE CORPSMAN, REN TOSH, NOVA CENTURION, IDENT RT512KEL7. STATE REQUEST. - - }
“Agent Jeffries! Agent Chen, Over.” Receiving no comm traffic response, Chen looks both ways before staring at the find before him, the screen incessantly prompting him.
{ - - THIS IS THE RECORD LOG OF XANDARIAN SPACE CORPSMAN, REN TOSH, NOVA CENTURION, IDENT RT512KEL7. STATE REQUEST. - - }
Agent Chen types into the screen to send on the same bandwidth. All Agent Jeffries said was Don’t Touch It, he convinces himself. { - - ACCESS LOG -- } he types.
{ - - 15512 INCIDENT LOGS FOUND. STATE LOG REQUEST. - - }
“Shock me,” Agent Chen whispers. He begins to type, { - - ACCESS INCIDENT LOG 15512 - - }
It responds.
{ - - XANDARIAN SPACECORPS INCIDENT LOG, NOVA CENTURION REN TOSH, 15512 - - }
The entire desert lights up as a red glow erupts from the star of the helmet, producing the face of a broad-chinned man with the slightest hints of inhumanity, in the very helmet now lying before Agent Chen. In addition, he begins to talk, voice translated into English from whatever it once was. The lips do not match.
“I just received a call,” it says, and so the story begins. However, let us start the story a little earlier.
“Frak,” the pale-skinned Galadorian named Ren Tosh sighs as he sits in his tri-point star-decaled blue uniform, his gold helmet pulled off and sitting on the vacant co-pilot chair.
Ren Tosh is a bitter, angry man. He rose through the ranks the hard way, with tough work and constant battle. Forged in fire and made into a man, he proved himself strong, earned the rank of Nova Centurion, and received the prestigious honor of safeguarding his own Supercluster. His assignment? The Virgo Supercluster, home to a dozen galaxies, including the Milky Way Galaxy, which possesses the Sol System. Earth’s home town.
He stares into the black of the sky, distant stars mocking him. This Supercluster used to be one of the most ravaged in the universe, a site of constant battle and strife. Any Nova Centurion suffered his firmest tests in this place as his predecessors. It was. Then the great Savior of Earth cleansed the near Universe of the foes arrayed against it.
“The frakking Powell,” Ren whispers angrily to himself, as he punches his control panel in front of him.
The Virgo Supercluster is the quietest sector in the Universe, Nova Centurion Tosh thinks, writes and rants. He is a trained warrior, a great universal champion … and he just watches a silent monitor array every day as he slowly cruises through his galaxies, sleeping and eating and practicing at a dozen different hobbies. He’s gradually becoming very good at needle-point
The sirens strike, and Ren feels his adrenaline surging. “This is Virgo Nova 1, please send.”
“This is Access Point 14.3.v9, we just had an unauthorized cargo ship tear through our checkpoint. Requesting assistance.”
Ren curses, “Frak. Another stupid traffic stop…” he sighs, deeply, and thumbs the radio, sending sub-light back.
“Warping. Be right there, Access Point v9,” he releases the trigger and sends the ship through its check. The ship shrinks into itself and light rushes as the stars move in blurs around the warp-traveling patrol vessel.
Ren Tosh would let the silent world know he hates doing this … but he is so much faster than sound that it would never catch up.
He drops out of warp, the lights blurring to their serene stop and Ren slows to gather his senses and calm his stomach. “Xandarian SpaceCorps Incident Log, Nova Centurion Ren Tosh, begin recording.”
His eyes trail over the ship he sees through his view port. “Gamma-class cargo ship, minimal carrying capacity … obvious adjustments made to engines … presumably a discreet small-goods courier. Prior encounter with contact suggests crew to be noncompliant…” His voice is tired, groggy. “Pause recording. Incident Log, begin monitoring mode. Kill me now… hhh… continue recording.”
Ren summons his conviction, and thumbs the transponder to page the troublesome ship. “PULL. OVER. YOUR. VEHICLE,” the Galadorian screams through the radio. The Xandarian Patrol Ship sails through the black of space, turning its axis to be facing ‘up’ the same way as it rides up to the flank of the cargo ship beside it.
The cargo ship responds, “Yeah, thing is, you’re going to detain me, because I’ve got extremely illegal goods in here. So I’m thinking No.”
Suffice to say, the tired and overworked Corpsman does not take too well to this. “Prepare to be boarded, slug!” Ren screams into the radio, as he releases his seat straps and rushes to the airlock, grabbing his helmet up.
“Computer, auto-pilot, lock onto Target Vessel, pursue until notified. Evasive maneuvers if engaged,” the words spoken by Ren Tosh as he leaps out of the ship. He flies straight to its airlock and begins violently punching the seam in its doors. The metal begins to warp and buckle under the superhuman strength of the Nova Centurion. A blast of air strikes Ren as it erupts from oxygen inside. He grasps the formed crack and begins to pry the doors open, eyes set from inside his helmet. Ren looks, of all things, bored. Managing to pull himself into the airlock, he walks to the second set of doors and eyes the glass, then the access panel. Punching his hand into the wall, he begins yanking on cables, electricity arcing into the vacuum of space outside the breached airlock.
Then there is a sudden warning inside his helmet. { - - CRITICAL INCIDENT ALERT, HORUSIAN CONVOY UNDER ATTACK, BROOD INSURGENCY - - }
Ren evacuates the cargo ship. He does not even bother. “Aborting this case! End incident log! Xandarian SpaceCorps Incident Log, Nova Centurion Ren Tosh, begin recording!” His voice is harried with fear. This could be serious. This hammer has been waiting to fall.
“I just received a call. A Horusian ship has been besieged by a Brood attack of currently unknown size, refer last received transmission to incident log. Contact Ship Computer, begin warp preparations, target transmission and trace coordinates. This one might be tough. Refer Treaty of Horusian/Brood War, established … GY ’24. Potentially critical windfall,” Ren warns as he flies under his own power back into his own ship, which has keyed its warp drive. He straps himself in with a hurried speed.
“Ship, engage warp. Pause recording. Frak, I’m going to retch if I do this one more—“ The ship blurs, stars become a blur and Ren’s stomach lurches. They come out of warp in the blink of an eye, the ship slowing in a blur and the stars righting themselves to stop in the sky. Ren turns and releases the contents of his dinner, wipes at his lips and speaks. “—time. Hhh. Begin recording.”
His eyes widen as he sees through the view port a terrifying sight. There is a small Brood vessel outside of a massive convoy of the Horusian Empire. “Oh frak,” Ren whispers as he sees the radar shows five dozen dots that are quickly coming this way. He really doubts it is the Horusians.
“Pause recording. Begin monitoring mode. Continue recording. This looks bad. I have approximately thirty seconds before we’re in deep here. I’m paging the ship, waiting for the Horusians to – they responded,” he speaks hurriedly.
“—Nova! We have need of—“ the voice of a noble, proper and presumptuous, pours over the transponder.
“This is Nova Centurion Ren Tosh, you have a serious problem. I just need you to tell me why.”
“They keep telling us we’re holding their Prince hostage! We have no hostages – we’re an ambassadorial ship!” the Horusian man pleads over the radio, awaiting response.
“I’m coming onboard,” Ren informs them as he releases his seat straps. “Computer, track my biometrics and get a distance. This is going to get ugly.” The Galadorian leaps into action out the airlock and flies into the awaiting landing bay of the Horusian ship, which opens to allow him in. He hits the ground hard and ignores the welcoming committee as he rushes through the halls with no concern for anyone who tries to stop him as he flies by. Ren does not stop until he finds a dozen guards outside of a stately looking door.
“STEP. AWAY,” he orders harshly, and the guards are about to fight for their charge when the doors behind them open. A pretty young woman with a feline face and an otherwise human form smiles to him in her Cheshire way.
“You came to find me,” she tells the Galadorian Nova.
“…your people on the bridge don’t know a thing. But I saw this ship was carrying you, Majesty. Do you know if there’s a prisoner here? Anything of the Brood’s? They … sure look to be intent,” Ren offers in a rush of words, very aware of time. He feels the seconds bearing down.
“No,” she tells him, calmly.
“But my beloved can save us. I’ve seen it,” she speaks, as a man walks up behind her, his face that of a hawk. Just then, the ship rocks and lights sputter out, the emergency lights flaring.
Ren knows all about her. She is the prophet daughter of Dhanistu, the Pharaoh of the Horusian Empire. She supposedly has a prophetic sight. “Why? Do you have some special power, pal?” He asks the ‘beloved’, who scratches his head.
“No… I mean, I speak Brood…” he offers. Ren can tell he is lying.
“Sure, Neserita,” Ren surrenders, his voice filled with resignation and impatience. Grasping her beloved by the waist, he rockets them towards the landing bay he entered.
“Neserita, known as a Seer and Prophet, saw me coming to her, and Sees her beloved – purpose unclear – is going to save us. Let’s go with a linear progression, and assume he comes with me. While outside reg, desperation leads me to action. I could fight them off, but the treaty would be in tatters,” the Nova Centurion narrates for the benefit of the Incident Log, to the confusion of his rocketed guest.
Landing in the bay, Ren stares at the beloved, for just one moment. “Name and duty.”
“Lafases, diplomat—“ the beloved begins, but Ren doesn’t bother to listen as he launches out of the bay along with a dozen star fights of the Horusians, the massive swarm of Brood now apparent. It looks like a cloud at first, which seems weird – what with being in the middle of space and everything. Until the specifics become vivid, the seeming brown mist becomes very clearly individuals. As they come closer, and Ren focuses his helmet’s sensors to watch the horizon. He sees body after body bumping against one another in their frenzy to reach the three ships, the unarmed ambassador ship and its two gun-ship guards.
They have no chance, he realizes. “Frak.” Ren powers up, his body covered in a cocoon of orange energy and he soars forward with a fiery trail of power behind him as he blazes into the horde. “DESIST, under lawful order of the Xandarian SpaceCorps! Unauthorized act of organized inter-species aggression! DESIST or be found guilty of –“ a stinger rushes straight for his head. Ren snarls, catches it in his two hands, and snaps its tail off.
“Yeah, alright, that’s how you want to play this!” He roars in defiance and starts swinging, trying to hold back the flow of their waves, but they rush over his futile struggle. Their aim is true and they make directly for the hangar bay that Nova left moments ago.
They swarm into the hangar and Ren is aware of the screams of the people inside. Doubling back, his aura flares as he destroys each Brood on his way back in. His authority is implicit; he is responding to a Galactic Offense for which they would not desist or even recognize his authority and acted in aggression against the intermediary justice of the Xandarian SpaceCorps by attacking a Nova Centurion. Ren does not bother to point this out in his incident log; he has better priorities.
“—DER YOU TO STOP!” Lafases is screaming when Ren enters the bay, to the swarm of Brood. Except the enemies, no one but Ren seems to understand Lafases. To his credit, Ren has a universal translator in his helmet. The enemy and Lafases, however, share a common language: that of the Brood. Almost no species in the universe can speak it due to its vocal chord requirements. The sound chambers cannot produce the particular buzz. Oddly, Lafases can.
There is a long silence, and they speak in their language. Ren floats there in preparation to strike.
“…is that you?” one of them asks Lafases.
He responds, “It is I, Lord K’la. Your information is false. And if I find its purveyor, I will have him devoured! My very cover is breached – all potential I bore for the Hive compromised! FOOLS! You will eat your Swarm Commander. This is my directive. Leave, now.”
There is a long, awkward silence from the invading forces. They pull back, leaving all the damage done to the ships as the only evidence of their appearance. They retreat from the battle.
“What just happened?” ask one Horusian, his face that of a jackal.
“He speaks Brood,” Nova explains, his voice dry, eyes set on Lafases. Ren is about to speak to the ‘noble’ when Lafases avoids the gaze put on him. He really should, as Ren looks like he just might kill him.
Ren spares him the rant as Neserita rushes through the doors to meet her beloved Lafases. There is blood that coats the deck, blood of Horusians and blood of the Brood. Outside, hundreds lay strewn and broken from the battle. The treaty has been shredded here. Ren allows only a brief reunion between the two before he interrupts. “As you two cuddle and reacquaint, there are warships being formed by the Horusians in response to this attack. It will only go downhill. Lafases – your name is K’la, and you are the Brood Queen’s firstborn they were looking for.”
After an awkward silence, Lafases – K’la – looks to his beloved Neserita and back to Ren. Anger is visible on the hawk face he bears. “How?” he asks, hands tensing and relaxing. Neserita takes a step back, eyes wide and lips gasping. She rushes into the crowd, as K’la swears in the Brood tongue and shifts his gaze back to Nova with his eyes filled with a hot fury.
“Universal Translator,” Nova explains, tapping his helmet. “You are going before a Tribunal. If you run, I will follow – you have possibly started a war. To say the least, I don’t appreciate that.”
Nova takes to flight, and soars free from the landing dock, flying toward his cloaked patrol ship. “Pause log, note me the ident.”
{ - - INCIDENT LOG 15512 - - }
“Thanks.”
[aboard the Nova Patrol Ship, two hours later]
“…resume log ident 15512,” Nova Centurion Ren Tosh notes to the air as he drops into his own ship, directly ahead of a small pod that he hauls over his shoulder with a massive cable. The landing bay door closes behind him at the cargo end of this vessel, and recycles oxygen into the once-depleted expanse. He opens the pod and out step four people. Neserita, Lafases, the Broodqueen and Neserita’s father – the Pharaoh of the Horusians, Dhanistu. They file one by one in that order into the bay.
In this small cargo bay they find a desk magnetically locked to the floor, along with three chairs behind it and one chair before it. Issued into the room, they sit as Nova speaks. “This is a court, under the galactic-authority of a Nova Centurion of the Xandarian SpaceCorps to mediate in a safe atmosphere. Presided over as dictates permit by each of the ruling body of the conflicted worlds and one knowledgeable third party to perform the functions of an unbiased intermediary. I will act in this role. This Tribunal will form on the matters concerning Brood Firstborn K’la alias Lafases’ intrusion into the Horusian Court and possible subversion of Princess Neserita.”
Suffice to say, the Nova’s oration – which continues even as the Horusians and the Brood both attempt to speak in stops and starts – lands on the faces of an astounded crowd at his bravado. Until Pharaoh Dhanistu steps forward and bows his head to the judiciary providence of Nova. “I will subject my world to this court’s mercy as well as the culpability of my beloved daughter.”
All the eyes in the audience look to the Broodqueen. Lafases and Neserita are both intelligent enough to understand their opinion does not matter, only that of their respective parents. “Fine,” she speaks in Horusian for the benefit of those she deems her lessers.
Ren smiles broadly before gesturing the accused to the seat in front of the tribunal. “K’lafases, or whatever you want me to call you –“
“K’la is fine.”
“K’la. You’re in a pickle. Either you committed treason or your nation has committed an act of war,” Nova calmly states, not looking to his left or right as he speaks, sitting in the middle of the two opposing world powers.
K’la looks a little restless and the Broodqueen sneers. “It was my doing,” K’la claims. The Broodqueen visibly smirks, before waving a hand dismissively as if to write off her firstborn for his guilt.
Nova senses the lie, and warns. “The penalty for treason is death, K’la. For you and for Neserita—“
“My daughter did NOTHING. She has admitted no sin!” Dhanistu interrupts, hastily, to a smiling continuation by the Centurion he cut off.
“—if she is found guilty.” Dhanistu looks to his daughter at this, hope in his eyes. The court turns to her.
Nova points to her and so much as opens his mouth to speak. She does not let him get even that far.
“No, father!” Neserita screams to Dhanistu, not to her inquisition. She had sat in silence, arms crossed and head bowed, looking away from her once-beloved who still bore the form of a Hawk-faced man.
“No what, Neserita?” Dhanistu asks, as Nova looks to him pointedly.
“No… I did not know of Laf—“ she weeps at this and her face scrunches up in fury to spit out the next word as if a curse, “—K’la’s lies. I did not know he did this. Spare me - spare me in my idiocy, to let him into my … house … my heart …” Lafases reaches out towards her and she steps further away, eyes averting him.
“You’re a known Prophet, Neserita. You didn’t ‘see’ he was a Brood?” Nova inquires, eyes set on her, pen tapping to the board in front of him.
“I hear nothing, I only see – and I … I saw him in the … in the form you all see before you. I saw that face only! I swear it to Horus!” she proclaims, needfully.
There is another tap of the pen and Nova looks to the Broodqueen. “Your son stands accused of treason against your nation, for violating the treaty and bringing you both nearly to war. Despite constant near-miss cases of infiltrating spies within the Horusians, you claim you knew nothing of those – and still nothing of this? So you accept his penalty to absolve this is death, if so deemed?”
The Broodqueen hisses quietly, eyes distant. “Yes,” she manages to speak between her fangs. Nova shakes his head clearly in disgust. His mouth opens to speak and interruptions stop him again.
“I did it,” K’la says again. “It was my idea to infiltrate the Horusian Court. I sought to bring knowledge to my Hive and gain personal glory. In so doing, I met a young woman and her name is Neserita. I fell in love with her. Those knowing of my deceit that were expecting my return – I can not speak their names and you will not manage it of me – expected me long ago. I never … returned with the intelligence… because I was in love. I became Lafases, please understand. I became Lafases because such a life was far greater than my loyalty to my Hive. My loyalty to my love, to –“ He clenches his teeth and his head snaps to the side.
“To you! To YOU, Neserita! Believe me – my death here is promised! I gain nothing by lying! I love you, please, know I love you – I couldn’t tell you .. I couldn’t … I wanted to forget myself! To become the man you deserved!” Neserita does not respond, her face wet with tears and body shaking as if freezing.
Nova comforts him quietly but firmly, “Know that doesn’t matter legally, K’la.”
“Lafases,” he corrects.
“What?” Nova asks, eyebrow quirking beneath the helmet.
“If I am going to die, I die as Lafases.”
“You are NOT my son!” the Broodqueen screams in rage.
“Mother?” Lafases asks, eyes turned to her.
“I exile you from the Hive!” she furiously condemns, a stinger slamming to the table.
A strange silence then falls over the room. Nova does not look sure of what to say. He actually opens his datapad and starts tapping rapidly, attempting to refer to precedence.
“Oh, that’s good,” Dhanistu speaks up, calmly. “For the crimes he confesses to – not that of insurgency but that of defection – he has been exiled from his people. Very well. Therefore, it now falls on me, to whom he defected, on his punishment. If any at all. I could very well grant his sanctuary.”
The Broodqueen looks around wildly. Lafases and Neserita suddenly look up as well, Lafases to Nova and Neserita to her father. “Is it true? You could – save him?” she asks, voice sounding stronger than it has, tears breaking. Lafases sits straighter, whispering Neserita’s name on his lips in hope at her cheer.
“He’s right. He’s not a spy, between his sworn testimony and his exile… he could – could be judged to be a defector, only if the majority vote of the judiciary council allows it.” Nova’s voice seems to be that of hope, as well, his eyes – all eyes – on Dhanistu now.
“Do you love him, daughter?” He asks, quietly and solemnly.
“…I don’t –“ she begins.
“It’s really rather imperative you answer this question with haste,” her father reminds, the jackal-head he bears perking its ears erect.
“Then I …” her words catch, all eyes on her. But no eyes strain stronger to her than Lafases. “…I love him, father.”
There is a snarl from the Broodqueen, who begins to stand – until the star on Nova’s brow flares. “A judge must not leave council until the matter is resolved,” he intones darkly. Her eyes tighten and she sits, back straight and tensed.
Dhanistu waves a hand dismissively. “So let him be defect. I grant him sanctuary. All matters settled.”
Nova looks between the two and as he speaks the Broodqueen glances away. “A vote,” Nova orders.
“To allow it—“ Nova begins.
“Do you both desire it? I do not. No ballots! None of this foolishness! This is all pretentious filth! He is yours. We know how this ends. This treaty is at its final years, Dhanistu, I swear this to you. Your arrogance will see me kill you, soon. Keep pressing.”
She stands and walks to the airlock and just … steps through it before soaring out to the arrayed Brood Fleet.
“No contest? Then so it stands. K-,er, Lafases is given to the sanctuary of the Horusian Pharaoh. Case dismissed. Court is adjourned.” Neserita and Lafases rush to embrace and Dhanistu looks on thoughtfully.
With much apparent relief, Nova speaks his next words. “End Incident Log.”
“...frak,” Agent Chen whispers as the red image disappears. He walks closer to the helmet, staring at the thing buried into the dirt.
“How did you … get here, though? That was it – that was the … last thing you saw?” His voice is hushed and full of awe. Kneeling, he dusts it off. As the star on its brow only just started to soften, he grips its sides. The star then explodes with light to encompass Agent Chen. The light continues, and covers mile after mile of expanse. The desert looks like the noon sun exploded within it. There is no sound – only light.
So very much light.
[aboard the Nova Patrol Ship, years ago]
Only hours after the court, Nova slides off his helmet and sets it at his bedside, sliding into his cot to sleep. The ship set to alarm him of danger, his eyes close and the exhaustion of the day takes him.
Alarms klaxon, and Nova wakes up with shock. Instincts take over and he barely glances at the clock, which shows two hours since he laid down. It feels like fifteen minutes to him and either way, he knows action is ahead of him. Quietly Ren curses himself for begging so desperately for there to be action in the Sector again. He regrets that jinx a great deal, as he pulls on his uniform.
"Computer, report!"
{ - - FIFTEEN BROOD WARSHIPS HAVE DROPPED OUT OF WARP INTO THE HORUSIAN EMBARGO SURROUNDING EARTH -- }
There seems to be a look of shock on Ren's face, doubt clouding his expression. "...excuse me?"
{ - - REPORTS SHOW ENTITY K'LA/LAFASES HAS BEEN ASSASSINATED BY HORUSIANS. - - }
"Ohfrak," whispers the horrified Centurion, who grasps his helmet.
"Computer, enter warp, get me there! We need to stop a massacre!"
{ - - WARPING ... - - }
He barely seems shaken this time as they come out of warp. He does not even call for an Incident Report. The air seal opens and he launches into the open blackness of space, to see he is too late. Having not even bothered to look out the view port first, this is his first sight of it. Thousands. There are thousands of the Brood, swarming forward in a massive surge from a series of enormous insectoid ships. They come towards a large embargo of Horusian ships, most diplomatic and very few built for war. Most of its forces commit forward, sending fliers out in fighter squadrons. Dozens of attack fighters under the Horusian flag rushing into space.
Nova cannot seem to fly fast enough as he comes in to fight the swarm. The matter of 'Good' and 'Bad' amongst them is negligible at best, the matter of assassination very irrelevant. There is a war and he must stop it. Decimate the leading forces. Fight to a standstill. His only chance is to stop the Brood, which seems nearly impossible. More stream forward every second, and the flow passes him with casual ease.
Cocooned in the swirling energy of the Nova Force, Ren Tosh, the Nova Centurion, rushes forward as it becomes evident … this is not a battle he’s going to win. Blasting through their ranks, energy coalesced along his gleaming form, he rams straight through the largest of all the vessels of the Brood fleet to gain entry. Not stopping for such miniscule things as bodies, he flies down its halls and tears through form after form of assaulting Broods like confetti. His destination is singular and the glowing emblem on his brow leads him to the unique destination.
The Broodqueen’s Throne room. Nova slows to a stop directly in front of the massive matriarch, hovering in the air before her. “Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to stop,” he intones firmly.
“They killed my son. I have no choice. He was exiled, perhaps, but this was an act of war. This … this TRANSGRESSION hours after your ‘peaceful accord’. I told Dhanistu the treaty’s end was at hand – this is the time! We will claim them now, in their hubris!”
Nova floats, silent for many long seconds as guards surround and the Queen stands before him defiantly. The pitched battle outside rattles him but strengthens his conviction. His Nova emblem glows brightly. “I’m really going to have to insist.”
The Broodqueen launches at him and Nova smirks. He does not seem to be expecting the force of her fist to send him flying through three different walls of her spaceship. Crawling out of the mess, he shakily finds his feet. Clearing cobwebs from his vision, he takes flight and returns the favor. Both fists bear down on her with little regard for safety. The impact shakes the station as they pass hordes of kin, crushing them beneath their soaring momentum and landing in the mess hall.
Trading blows with each other, the fire of conviction burns in Nova. Unfortunately, strength burns hotter in the Broodqueen who begins beating him unconscious. He spits blood from his lips onto her maw as it opens for a killing bite.
“I’ve wanted to do this awhile. Frak you,” Nova just smiles with these words, starburst on his forehead glowing so much brighter. Energy swirls around it, releasing in a torrential flow of destruction. The Nova Force. She and her ship are destroyed as it passes outward. The damage sucks Nova into the abyss of space, his suit barely sustaining him after the drain.
{ - - Emergency Life Support protocols engaged. SYSTEM REPORT - Power: 2%. Approximately forty-eight seconds until System Activation. - - }
Floating, energy slowly collects again in the suit. If one could hear his voice in space, he would be overheard screaming incoherent blasphemies in desperation for full operational power. His head turns, however, in time to see the swarm rushing for him and forcibly dragging him into the landing docks of another Brood ship, where one of the larger of them lands with the body of Nova. A Brood with the recognizable face of one of the Queen’s upper Lieutenants.
“Welcome to the next world, Nova scum,” he retorts in the bitterness of the Brood language.
Ren puzzles and coughs up blood briefly, as he tries to kneel. They allow him to. “I’m sorry. What’s this little meeting about? I’ve got some important business - like destroying your war force to get back to. Already killed your Queen.” { - - Power: 24%. Approximately twenty-two seconds until System Activation. - - }
There is much hissing around this enclave, but the Lieutenant waves them to silence. “Doesn’t matter. The Queen and her son, just – in the way. Distractions and excuses, they are. We saw to his death to bring this fight. Too long has this accord stood. We needed its end. You prolonged this. You made it come to this, Nova.”
“Am I supposed to feel bad for doing my job? Why are you even telling me this? You should really be killing me,” Nova mutters as he stumbles to his feet. { - - Power: 32%. Approximately thirteen seconds until System Activation. - - }
“I believe a man should understand when he’s conquered. I do not wish to only kill you, Galadorian. I want you to understand I conquered you. I conquered law and order. This universe will bow to the Glory that was the Brood. Tremble in the terror of our name as we spread like plague.”
“Spread where…?” Nova asks, stalling for time.
“Earth. There are no heroes. It will be ours. We will feed from its bones. Not because we need it. But because you held it from us.” { - - Power: 89%. Approximately three seconds un – SYSTEM ACTIVATED. - - }
Ren’s eyes widen to the concept. His teeth grit and jaw tightens. “Yeah, well, I wish you could’ve been there to see it,” Ren threatens and leaps forward to grasp the Lieutenant by his shoulders to launch them into the closing bay doors, energy propelling them forward through the foot of steel, and destroying the Lieutenants body in the process. This allows the Nova Centurion into the sky outside, Earth in sight. As are many worse sights.
Out of the pan and into the fire, he thinks and beholds the Brood swarm completing its destruction of most of the Horusian convoy and decimation of his Nova Patrol Ship. He finds himself the only face against a massive swarm of monstrous aliens with no true home.
“Earth will be warned,” Ren whispers to himself in the black of space. Thousands, it seems, turn to the living Nova and swarm for him in a frenzy of action. He takes flight into the stratosphere of Earth, meeting the blues and the whites of its skies. Heat races over his body, but he ignores it. It is rather his shock when some of the Brood endure the heat as well, with dozens of them carrying massive crates that weather the intrusion into the sky.
It is rather worse when they cover him. Dozens swarm him, hurling their crates into the sky as they rush Nova. All of them as strong as the Broodqueen, likely her chosen for this - given forms of truly powerful aliens. They begin to tear free his uniform, piece by piece, and devour or poison his flesh by their teeth and stinger as they burn into re-entry. Heat washes off them as Nova struggles in his horror until they tear free his helmet. Defenseless, the heat takes him and he bursts into flame. The Brood rush away from him as the man turns to ash within the sky.
The Brood soar skyward, leaving the stratosphere into space once more. Crates collide with Earth and Sea, opening to allow white eggs to spill free. And a single golden helmet slams into sands amidst a desert, as a strong wind blows over it.
It begins to beep, its sublight transmission to the Xandarian SpaceCorps too distant to reach. A simple message repeated into infinity.
{ - - THIS IS THE RECORD LOG OF XANDARIAN SPACE CORPSMAN, REN TOSH, NOVA CENTURION, IDENT RT512KEL7. STATE REQUEST. - - }
END
NOVA 2095: PATROL
Written by Bowie Sessions ([email protected])
Edited by ?
FOREWORD
The Xandarian SpaceCorps is the finest judicial force of the Universe, the Police of all the known Galaxies – their forces consist of thousands upon thousands of Corpsman comprised of hundreds of different alien races. In their rank structure, their most elite are Nova Centurions entrusted with an entire Supercluster, given two assistants beneath them to patrol Galaxies within it.
This is the story of one Nova Centurion, a Galadorian man who rather than enlisting in their own elite corps of the Rom Knights became a Galactic Protector in the Xandarian SpaceCorps. It was supposed to be a slow night like any other.
This is not the story of SHIELD Agent Errol Chen. However, it will be.
[the outskirts of Las Vegas, NEVADA]
The screen comes to life to show a clean faced man, apparently Asian with tightly cut black hair in a bird-crested uniform and a desert at night behind him. “Sir, we’ve come across a possible emplaced explosive,” reports junior agent Agent Chen, saluting his senior Agent Jeffries.
“Give me a SITREP,” Jeffries asks, inquisitively, eyes snapping up from the illuminated hologram of the board before him where he examines 3D mapping of the terrain that surrounds the dangerous site that has become the province of a mad Clown Prince and threat to the nation.
“Papa Uniform Zeerow-Two-Zeerow-Ait-Niner-One-Six-Zeerow-Two-Fife, golden cylinder – unknown height, its buried in the sand. We can see the peak of what seems to be a red star emblem above two holes in its fore. It’s also releasing a loud klaxon, sir… but not on any audible spectrum the human can hear. Possibly a transmitter of some kind. We don’t know if it’s a bomb, a trip wire…”
Jeffries nods, “Understood. I’m en route. Give me video?” The camera focuses, showing an enlarged view of the visible cylinder, just as Agent Chen described it. It is buried too deep to see much detail. Could that be a helmet, Jeffries wonders? “ETA one fife mikes. Do. Not. Touch. It. Agent Jeffries Out.”
Agent Chen goes back to looking at the rubble when the screen dies on him, cutting him off. Could that be a helmet, Chen wonders?
Agent Chen continues to toy with his surveillance equipment as he tries to find the noise on their sensors. As he turns one more dial, the sound suddenly records in the system, first incomprehensible jargon before it translates. The screen scrolls with text as the system synchs with the broadcast, allowing Chen to stare as the helmet’s star glows a bright red.
{ - - THIS IS THE RECORD LOG OF XANDARIAN SPACE CORPSMAN, REN TOSH, NOVA CENTURION, IDENT RT512KEL7. STATE REQUEST. - - }
“Agent Chen, over. Sir, you might want to see this…”
{ - - THIS IS THE RECORD LOG OF XANDARIAN SPACE CORPSMAN, REN TOSH, NOVA CENTURION, IDENT RT512KEL7. STATE REQUEST. - - }
“Agent Jeffries! Agent Chen, Over.” Receiving no comm traffic response, Chen looks both ways before staring at the find before him, the screen incessantly prompting him.
{ - - THIS IS THE RECORD LOG OF XANDARIAN SPACE CORPSMAN, REN TOSH, NOVA CENTURION, IDENT RT512KEL7. STATE REQUEST. - - }
Agent Chen types into the screen to send on the same bandwidth. All Agent Jeffries said was Don’t Touch It, he convinces himself. { - - ACCESS LOG -- } he types.
{ - - 15512 INCIDENT LOGS FOUND. STATE LOG REQUEST. - - }
“Shock me,” Agent Chen whispers. He begins to type, { - - ACCESS INCIDENT LOG 15512 - - }
It responds.
{ - - XANDARIAN SPACECORPS INCIDENT LOG, NOVA CENTURION REN TOSH, 15512 - - }
The entire desert lights up as a red glow erupts from the star of the helmet, producing the face of a broad-chinned man with the slightest hints of inhumanity, in the very helmet now lying before Agent Chen. In addition, he begins to talk, voice translated into English from whatever it once was. The lips do not match.
“I just received a call,” it says, and so the story begins. However, let us start the story a little earlier.
“Frak,” the pale-skinned Galadorian named Ren Tosh sighs as he sits in his tri-point star-decaled blue uniform, his gold helmet pulled off and sitting on the vacant co-pilot chair.
Ren Tosh is a bitter, angry man. He rose through the ranks the hard way, with tough work and constant battle. Forged in fire and made into a man, he proved himself strong, earned the rank of Nova Centurion, and received the prestigious honor of safeguarding his own Supercluster. His assignment? The Virgo Supercluster, home to a dozen galaxies, including the Milky Way Galaxy, which possesses the Sol System. Earth’s home town.
He stares into the black of the sky, distant stars mocking him. This Supercluster used to be one of the most ravaged in the universe, a site of constant battle and strife. Any Nova Centurion suffered his firmest tests in this place as his predecessors. It was. Then the great Savior of Earth cleansed the near Universe of the foes arrayed against it.
“The frakking Powell,” Ren whispers angrily to himself, as he punches his control panel in front of him.
The Virgo Supercluster is the quietest sector in the Universe, Nova Centurion Tosh thinks, writes and rants. He is a trained warrior, a great universal champion … and he just watches a silent monitor array every day as he slowly cruises through his galaxies, sleeping and eating and practicing at a dozen different hobbies. He’s gradually becoming very good at needle-point
The sirens strike, and Ren feels his adrenaline surging. “This is Virgo Nova 1, please send.”
“This is Access Point 14.3.v9, we just had an unauthorized cargo ship tear through our checkpoint. Requesting assistance.”
Ren curses, “Frak. Another stupid traffic stop…” he sighs, deeply, and thumbs the radio, sending sub-light back.
“Warping. Be right there, Access Point v9,” he releases the trigger and sends the ship through its check. The ship shrinks into itself and light rushes as the stars move in blurs around the warp-traveling patrol vessel.
Ren Tosh would let the silent world know he hates doing this … but he is so much faster than sound that it would never catch up.
He drops out of warp, the lights blurring to their serene stop and Ren slows to gather his senses and calm his stomach. “Xandarian SpaceCorps Incident Log, Nova Centurion Ren Tosh, begin recording.”
His eyes trail over the ship he sees through his view port. “Gamma-class cargo ship, minimal carrying capacity … obvious adjustments made to engines … presumably a discreet small-goods courier. Prior encounter with contact suggests crew to be noncompliant…” His voice is tired, groggy. “Pause recording. Incident Log, begin monitoring mode. Kill me now… hhh… continue recording.”
Ren summons his conviction, and thumbs the transponder to page the troublesome ship. “PULL. OVER. YOUR. VEHICLE,” the Galadorian screams through the radio. The Xandarian Patrol Ship sails through the black of space, turning its axis to be facing ‘up’ the same way as it rides up to the flank of the cargo ship beside it.
The cargo ship responds, “Yeah, thing is, you’re going to detain me, because I’ve got extremely illegal goods in here. So I’m thinking No.”
Suffice to say, the tired and overworked Corpsman does not take too well to this. “Prepare to be boarded, slug!” Ren screams into the radio, as he releases his seat straps and rushes to the airlock, grabbing his helmet up.
“Computer, auto-pilot, lock onto Target Vessel, pursue until notified. Evasive maneuvers if engaged,” the words spoken by Ren Tosh as he leaps out of the ship. He flies straight to its airlock and begins violently punching the seam in its doors. The metal begins to warp and buckle under the superhuman strength of the Nova Centurion. A blast of air strikes Ren as it erupts from oxygen inside. He grasps the formed crack and begins to pry the doors open, eyes set from inside his helmet. Ren looks, of all things, bored. Managing to pull himself into the airlock, he walks to the second set of doors and eyes the glass, then the access panel. Punching his hand into the wall, he begins yanking on cables, electricity arcing into the vacuum of space outside the breached airlock.
Then there is a sudden warning inside his helmet. { - - CRITICAL INCIDENT ALERT, HORUSIAN CONVOY UNDER ATTACK, BROOD INSURGENCY - - }
Ren evacuates the cargo ship. He does not even bother. “Aborting this case! End incident log! Xandarian SpaceCorps Incident Log, Nova Centurion Ren Tosh, begin recording!” His voice is harried with fear. This could be serious. This hammer has been waiting to fall.
“I just received a call. A Horusian ship has been besieged by a Brood attack of currently unknown size, refer last received transmission to incident log. Contact Ship Computer, begin warp preparations, target transmission and trace coordinates. This one might be tough. Refer Treaty of Horusian/Brood War, established … GY ’24. Potentially critical windfall,” Ren warns as he flies under his own power back into his own ship, which has keyed its warp drive. He straps himself in with a hurried speed.
“Ship, engage warp. Pause recording. Frak, I’m going to retch if I do this one more—“ The ship blurs, stars become a blur and Ren’s stomach lurches. They come out of warp in the blink of an eye, the ship slowing in a blur and the stars righting themselves to stop in the sky. Ren turns and releases the contents of his dinner, wipes at his lips and speaks. “—time. Hhh. Begin recording.”
His eyes widen as he sees through the view port a terrifying sight. There is a small Brood vessel outside of a massive convoy of the Horusian Empire. “Oh frak,” Ren whispers as he sees the radar shows five dozen dots that are quickly coming this way. He really doubts it is the Horusians.
“Pause recording. Begin monitoring mode. Continue recording. This looks bad. I have approximately thirty seconds before we’re in deep here. I’m paging the ship, waiting for the Horusians to – they responded,” he speaks hurriedly.
“—Nova! We have need of—“ the voice of a noble, proper and presumptuous, pours over the transponder.
“This is Nova Centurion Ren Tosh, you have a serious problem. I just need you to tell me why.”
“They keep telling us we’re holding their Prince hostage! We have no hostages – we’re an ambassadorial ship!” the Horusian man pleads over the radio, awaiting response.
“I’m coming onboard,” Ren informs them as he releases his seat straps. “Computer, track my biometrics and get a distance. This is going to get ugly.” The Galadorian leaps into action out the airlock and flies into the awaiting landing bay of the Horusian ship, which opens to allow him in. He hits the ground hard and ignores the welcoming committee as he rushes through the halls with no concern for anyone who tries to stop him as he flies by. Ren does not stop until he finds a dozen guards outside of a stately looking door.
“STEP. AWAY,” he orders harshly, and the guards are about to fight for their charge when the doors behind them open. A pretty young woman with a feline face and an otherwise human form smiles to him in her Cheshire way.
“You came to find me,” she tells the Galadorian Nova.
“…your people on the bridge don’t know a thing. But I saw this ship was carrying you, Majesty. Do you know if there’s a prisoner here? Anything of the Brood’s? They … sure look to be intent,” Ren offers in a rush of words, very aware of time. He feels the seconds bearing down.
“No,” she tells him, calmly.
“But my beloved can save us. I’ve seen it,” she speaks, as a man walks up behind her, his face that of a hawk. Just then, the ship rocks and lights sputter out, the emergency lights flaring.
Ren knows all about her. She is the prophet daughter of Dhanistu, the Pharaoh of the Horusian Empire. She supposedly has a prophetic sight. “Why? Do you have some special power, pal?” He asks the ‘beloved’, who scratches his head.
“No… I mean, I speak Brood…” he offers. Ren can tell he is lying.
“Sure, Neserita,” Ren surrenders, his voice filled with resignation and impatience. Grasping her beloved by the waist, he rockets them towards the landing bay he entered.
“Neserita, known as a Seer and Prophet, saw me coming to her, and Sees her beloved – purpose unclear – is going to save us. Let’s go with a linear progression, and assume he comes with me. While outside reg, desperation leads me to action. I could fight them off, but the treaty would be in tatters,” the Nova Centurion narrates for the benefit of the Incident Log, to the confusion of his rocketed guest.
Landing in the bay, Ren stares at the beloved, for just one moment. “Name and duty.”
“Lafases, diplomat—“ the beloved begins, but Ren doesn’t bother to listen as he launches out of the bay along with a dozen star fights of the Horusians, the massive swarm of Brood now apparent. It looks like a cloud at first, which seems weird – what with being in the middle of space and everything. Until the specifics become vivid, the seeming brown mist becomes very clearly individuals. As they come closer, and Ren focuses his helmet’s sensors to watch the horizon. He sees body after body bumping against one another in their frenzy to reach the three ships, the unarmed ambassador ship and its two gun-ship guards.
They have no chance, he realizes. “Frak.” Ren powers up, his body covered in a cocoon of orange energy and he soars forward with a fiery trail of power behind him as he blazes into the horde. “DESIST, under lawful order of the Xandarian SpaceCorps! Unauthorized act of organized inter-species aggression! DESIST or be found guilty of –“ a stinger rushes straight for his head. Ren snarls, catches it in his two hands, and snaps its tail off.
“Yeah, alright, that’s how you want to play this!” He roars in defiance and starts swinging, trying to hold back the flow of their waves, but they rush over his futile struggle. Their aim is true and they make directly for the hangar bay that Nova left moments ago.
They swarm into the hangar and Ren is aware of the screams of the people inside. Doubling back, his aura flares as he destroys each Brood on his way back in. His authority is implicit; he is responding to a Galactic Offense for which they would not desist or even recognize his authority and acted in aggression against the intermediary justice of the Xandarian SpaceCorps by attacking a Nova Centurion. Ren does not bother to point this out in his incident log; he has better priorities.
“—DER YOU TO STOP!” Lafases is screaming when Ren enters the bay, to the swarm of Brood. Except the enemies, no one but Ren seems to understand Lafases. To his credit, Ren has a universal translator in his helmet. The enemy and Lafases, however, share a common language: that of the Brood. Almost no species in the universe can speak it due to its vocal chord requirements. The sound chambers cannot produce the particular buzz. Oddly, Lafases can.
There is a long silence, and they speak in their language. Ren floats there in preparation to strike.
“…is that you?” one of them asks Lafases.
He responds, “It is I, Lord K’la. Your information is false. And if I find its purveyor, I will have him devoured! My very cover is breached – all potential I bore for the Hive compromised! FOOLS! You will eat your Swarm Commander. This is my directive. Leave, now.”
There is a long, awkward silence from the invading forces. They pull back, leaving all the damage done to the ships as the only evidence of their appearance. They retreat from the battle.
“What just happened?” ask one Horusian, his face that of a jackal.
“He speaks Brood,” Nova explains, his voice dry, eyes set on Lafases. Ren is about to speak to the ‘noble’ when Lafases avoids the gaze put on him. He really should, as Ren looks like he just might kill him.
Ren spares him the rant as Neserita rushes through the doors to meet her beloved Lafases. There is blood that coats the deck, blood of Horusians and blood of the Brood. Outside, hundreds lay strewn and broken from the battle. The treaty has been shredded here. Ren allows only a brief reunion between the two before he interrupts. “As you two cuddle and reacquaint, there are warships being formed by the Horusians in response to this attack. It will only go downhill. Lafases – your name is K’la, and you are the Brood Queen’s firstborn they were looking for.”
After an awkward silence, Lafases – K’la – looks to his beloved Neserita and back to Ren. Anger is visible on the hawk face he bears. “How?” he asks, hands tensing and relaxing. Neserita takes a step back, eyes wide and lips gasping. She rushes into the crowd, as K’la swears in the Brood tongue and shifts his gaze back to Nova with his eyes filled with a hot fury.
“Universal Translator,” Nova explains, tapping his helmet. “You are going before a Tribunal. If you run, I will follow – you have possibly started a war. To say the least, I don’t appreciate that.”
Nova takes to flight, and soars free from the landing dock, flying toward his cloaked patrol ship. “Pause log, note me the ident.”
{ - - INCIDENT LOG 15512 - - }
“Thanks.”
[aboard the Nova Patrol Ship, two hours later]
“…resume log ident 15512,” Nova Centurion Ren Tosh notes to the air as he drops into his own ship, directly ahead of a small pod that he hauls over his shoulder with a massive cable. The landing bay door closes behind him at the cargo end of this vessel, and recycles oxygen into the once-depleted expanse. He opens the pod and out step four people. Neserita, Lafases, the Broodqueen and Neserita’s father – the Pharaoh of the Horusians, Dhanistu. They file one by one in that order into the bay.
In this small cargo bay they find a desk magnetically locked to the floor, along with three chairs behind it and one chair before it. Issued into the room, they sit as Nova speaks. “This is a court, under the galactic-authority of a Nova Centurion of the Xandarian SpaceCorps to mediate in a safe atmosphere. Presided over as dictates permit by each of the ruling body of the conflicted worlds and one knowledgeable third party to perform the functions of an unbiased intermediary. I will act in this role. This Tribunal will form on the matters concerning Brood Firstborn K’la alias Lafases’ intrusion into the Horusian Court and possible subversion of Princess Neserita.”
Suffice to say, the Nova’s oration – which continues even as the Horusians and the Brood both attempt to speak in stops and starts – lands on the faces of an astounded crowd at his bravado. Until Pharaoh Dhanistu steps forward and bows his head to the judiciary providence of Nova. “I will subject my world to this court’s mercy as well as the culpability of my beloved daughter.”
All the eyes in the audience look to the Broodqueen. Lafases and Neserita are both intelligent enough to understand their opinion does not matter, only that of their respective parents. “Fine,” she speaks in Horusian for the benefit of those she deems her lessers.
Ren smiles broadly before gesturing the accused to the seat in front of the tribunal. “K’lafases, or whatever you want me to call you –“
“K’la is fine.”
“K’la. You’re in a pickle. Either you committed treason or your nation has committed an act of war,” Nova calmly states, not looking to his left or right as he speaks, sitting in the middle of the two opposing world powers.
K’la looks a little restless and the Broodqueen sneers. “It was my doing,” K’la claims. The Broodqueen visibly smirks, before waving a hand dismissively as if to write off her firstborn for his guilt.
Nova senses the lie, and warns. “The penalty for treason is death, K’la. For you and for Neserita—“
“My daughter did NOTHING. She has admitted no sin!” Dhanistu interrupts, hastily, to a smiling continuation by the Centurion he cut off.
“—if she is found guilty.” Dhanistu looks to his daughter at this, hope in his eyes. The court turns to her.
Nova points to her and so much as opens his mouth to speak. She does not let him get even that far.
“No, father!” Neserita screams to Dhanistu, not to her inquisition. She had sat in silence, arms crossed and head bowed, looking away from her once-beloved who still bore the form of a Hawk-faced man.
“No what, Neserita?” Dhanistu asks, as Nova looks to him pointedly.
“No… I did not know of Laf—“ she weeps at this and her face scrunches up in fury to spit out the next word as if a curse, “—K’la’s lies. I did not know he did this. Spare me - spare me in my idiocy, to let him into my … house … my heart …” Lafases reaches out towards her and she steps further away, eyes averting him.
“You’re a known Prophet, Neserita. You didn’t ‘see’ he was a Brood?” Nova inquires, eyes set on her, pen tapping to the board in front of him.
“I hear nothing, I only see – and I … I saw him in the … in the form you all see before you. I saw that face only! I swear it to Horus!” she proclaims, needfully.
There is another tap of the pen and Nova looks to the Broodqueen. “Your son stands accused of treason against your nation, for violating the treaty and bringing you both nearly to war. Despite constant near-miss cases of infiltrating spies within the Horusians, you claim you knew nothing of those – and still nothing of this? So you accept his penalty to absolve this is death, if so deemed?”
The Broodqueen hisses quietly, eyes distant. “Yes,” she manages to speak between her fangs. Nova shakes his head clearly in disgust. His mouth opens to speak and interruptions stop him again.
“I did it,” K’la says again. “It was my idea to infiltrate the Horusian Court. I sought to bring knowledge to my Hive and gain personal glory. In so doing, I met a young woman and her name is Neserita. I fell in love with her. Those knowing of my deceit that were expecting my return – I can not speak their names and you will not manage it of me – expected me long ago. I never … returned with the intelligence… because I was in love. I became Lafases, please understand. I became Lafases because such a life was far greater than my loyalty to my Hive. My loyalty to my love, to –“ He clenches his teeth and his head snaps to the side.
“To you! To YOU, Neserita! Believe me – my death here is promised! I gain nothing by lying! I love you, please, know I love you – I couldn’t tell you .. I couldn’t … I wanted to forget myself! To become the man you deserved!” Neserita does not respond, her face wet with tears and body shaking as if freezing.
Nova comforts him quietly but firmly, “Know that doesn’t matter legally, K’la.”
“Lafases,” he corrects.
“What?” Nova asks, eyebrow quirking beneath the helmet.
“If I am going to die, I die as Lafases.”
“You are NOT my son!” the Broodqueen screams in rage.
“Mother?” Lafases asks, eyes turned to her.
“I exile you from the Hive!” she furiously condemns, a stinger slamming to the table.
A strange silence then falls over the room. Nova does not look sure of what to say. He actually opens his datapad and starts tapping rapidly, attempting to refer to precedence.
“Oh, that’s good,” Dhanistu speaks up, calmly. “For the crimes he confesses to – not that of insurgency but that of defection – he has been exiled from his people. Very well. Therefore, it now falls on me, to whom he defected, on his punishment. If any at all. I could very well grant his sanctuary.”
The Broodqueen looks around wildly. Lafases and Neserita suddenly look up as well, Lafases to Nova and Neserita to her father. “Is it true? You could – save him?” she asks, voice sounding stronger than it has, tears breaking. Lafases sits straighter, whispering Neserita’s name on his lips in hope at her cheer.
“He’s right. He’s not a spy, between his sworn testimony and his exile… he could – could be judged to be a defector, only if the majority vote of the judiciary council allows it.” Nova’s voice seems to be that of hope, as well, his eyes – all eyes – on Dhanistu now.
“Do you love him, daughter?” He asks, quietly and solemnly.
“…I don’t –“ she begins.
“It’s really rather imperative you answer this question with haste,” her father reminds, the jackal-head he bears perking its ears erect.
“Then I …” her words catch, all eyes on her. But no eyes strain stronger to her than Lafases. “…I love him, father.”
There is a snarl from the Broodqueen, who begins to stand – until the star on Nova’s brow flares. “A judge must not leave council until the matter is resolved,” he intones darkly. Her eyes tighten and she sits, back straight and tensed.
Dhanistu waves a hand dismissively. “So let him be defect. I grant him sanctuary. All matters settled.”
Nova looks between the two and as he speaks the Broodqueen glances away. “A vote,” Nova orders.
“To allow it—“ Nova begins.
“Do you both desire it? I do not. No ballots! None of this foolishness! This is all pretentious filth! He is yours. We know how this ends. This treaty is at its final years, Dhanistu, I swear this to you. Your arrogance will see me kill you, soon. Keep pressing.”
She stands and walks to the airlock and just … steps through it before soaring out to the arrayed Brood Fleet.
“No contest? Then so it stands. K-,er, Lafases is given to the sanctuary of the Horusian Pharaoh. Case dismissed. Court is adjourned.” Neserita and Lafases rush to embrace and Dhanistu looks on thoughtfully.
With much apparent relief, Nova speaks his next words. “End Incident Log.”
“...frak,” Agent Chen whispers as the red image disappears. He walks closer to the helmet, staring at the thing buried into the dirt.
“How did you … get here, though? That was it – that was the … last thing you saw?” His voice is hushed and full of awe. Kneeling, he dusts it off. As the star on its brow only just started to soften, he grips its sides. The star then explodes with light to encompass Agent Chen. The light continues, and covers mile after mile of expanse. The desert looks like the noon sun exploded within it. There is no sound – only light.
So very much light.
[aboard the Nova Patrol Ship, years ago]
Only hours after the court, Nova slides off his helmet and sets it at his bedside, sliding into his cot to sleep. The ship set to alarm him of danger, his eyes close and the exhaustion of the day takes him.
Alarms klaxon, and Nova wakes up with shock. Instincts take over and he barely glances at the clock, which shows two hours since he laid down. It feels like fifteen minutes to him and either way, he knows action is ahead of him. Quietly Ren curses himself for begging so desperately for there to be action in the Sector again. He regrets that jinx a great deal, as he pulls on his uniform.
"Computer, report!"
{ - - FIFTEEN BROOD WARSHIPS HAVE DROPPED OUT OF WARP INTO THE HORUSIAN EMBARGO SURROUNDING EARTH -- }
There seems to be a look of shock on Ren's face, doubt clouding his expression. "...excuse me?"
{ - - REPORTS SHOW ENTITY K'LA/LAFASES HAS BEEN ASSASSINATED BY HORUSIANS. - - }
"Ohfrak," whispers the horrified Centurion, who grasps his helmet.
"Computer, enter warp, get me there! We need to stop a massacre!"
{ - - WARPING ... - - }
He barely seems shaken this time as they come out of warp. He does not even call for an Incident Report. The air seal opens and he launches into the open blackness of space, to see he is too late. Having not even bothered to look out the view port first, this is his first sight of it. Thousands. There are thousands of the Brood, swarming forward in a massive surge from a series of enormous insectoid ships. They come towards a large embargo of Horusian ships, most diplomatic and very few built for war. Most of its forces commit forward, sending fliers out in fighter squadrons. Dozens of attack fighters under the Horusian flag rushing into space.
Nova cannot seem to fly fast enough as he comes in to fight the swarm. The matter of 'Good' and 'Bad' amongst them is negligible at best, the matter of assassination very irrelevant. There is a war and he must stop it. Decimate the leading forces. Fight to a standstill. His only chance is to stop the Brood, which seems nearly impossible. More stream forward every second, and the flow passes him with casual ease.
Cocooned in the swirling energy of the Nova Force, Ren Tosh, the Nova Centurion, rushes forward as it becomes evident … this is not a battle he’s going to win. Blasting through their ranks, energy coalesced along his gleaming form, he rams straight through the largest of all the vessels of the Brood fleet to gain entry. Not stopping for such miniscule things as bodies, he flies down its halls and tears through form after form of assaulting Broods like confetti. His destination is singular and the glowing emblem on his brow leads him to the unique destination.
The Broodqueen’s Throne room. Nova slows to a stop directly in front of the massive matriarch, hovering in the air before her. “Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to stop,” he intones firmly.
“They killed my son. I have no choice. He was exiled, perhaps, but this was an act of war. This … this TRANSGRESSION hours after your ‘peaceful accord’. I told Dhanistu the treaty’s end was at hand – this is the time! We will claim them now, in their hubris!”
Nova floats, silent for many long seconds as guards surround and the Queen stands before him defiantly. The pitched battle outside rattles him but strengthens his conviction. His Nova emblem glows brightly. “I’m really going to have to insist.”
The Broodqueen launches at him and Nova smirks. He does not seem to be expecting the force of her fist to send him flying through three different walls of her spaceship. Crawling out of the mess, he shakily finds his feet. Clearing cobwebs from his vision, he takes flight and returns the favor. Both fists bear down on her with little regard for safety. The impact shakes the station as they pass hordes of kin, crushing them beneath their soaring momentum and landing in the mess hall.
Trading blows with each other, the fire of conviction burns in Nova. Unfortunately, strength burns hotter in the Broodqueen who begins beating him unconscious. He spits blood from his lips onto her maw as it opens for a killing bite.
“I’ve wanted to do this awhile. Frak you,” Nova just smiles with these words, starburst on his forehead glowing so much brighter. Energy swirls around it, releasing in a torrential flow of destruction. The Nova Force. She and her ship are destroyed as it passes outward. The damage sucks Nova into the abyss of space, his suit barely sustaining him after the drain.
{ - - Emergency Life Support protocols engaged. SYSTEM REPORT - Power: 2%. Approximately forty-eight seconds until System Activation. - - }
Floating, energy slowly collects again in the suit. If one could hear his voice in space, he would be overheard screaming incoherent blasphemies in desperation for full operational power. His head turns, however, in time to see the swarm rushing for him and forcibly dragging him into the landing docks of another Brood ship, where one of the larger of them lands with the body of Nova. A Brood with the recognizable face of one of the Queen’s upper Lieutenants.
“Welcome to the next world, Nova scum,” he retorts in the bitterness of the Brood language.
Ren puzzles and coughs up blood briefly, as he tries to kneel. They allow him to. “I’m sorry. What’s this little meeting about? I’ve got some important business - like destroying your war force to get back to. Already killed your Queen.” { - - Power: 24%. Approximately twenty-two seconds until System Activation. - - }
There is much hissing around this enclave, but the Lieutenant waves them to silence. “Doesn’t matter. The Queen and her son, just – in the way. Distractions and excuses, they are. We saw to his death to bring this fight. Too long has this accord stood. We needed its end. You prolonged this. You made it come to this, Nova.”
“Am I supposed to feel bad for doing my job? Why are you even telling me this? You should really be killing me,” Nova mutters as he stumbles to his feet. { - - Power: 32%. Approximately thirteen seconds until System Activation. - - }
“I believe a man should understand when he’s conquered. I do not wish to only kill you, Galadorian. I want you to understand I conquered you. I conquered law and order. This universe will bow to the Glory that was the Brood. Tremble in the terror of our name as we spread like plague.”
“Spread where…?” Nova asks, stalling for time.
“Earth. There are no heroes. It will be ours. We will feed from its bones. Not because we need it. But because you held it from us.” { - - Power: 89%. Approximately three seconds un – SYSTEM ACTIVATED. - - }
Ren’s eyes widen to the concept. His teeth grit and jaw tightens. “Yeah, well, I wish you could’ve been there to see it,” Ren threatens and leaps forward to grasp the Lieutenant by his shoulders to launch them into the closing bay doors, energy propelling them forward through the foot of steel, and destroying the Lieutenants body in the process. This allows the Nova Centurion into the sky outside, Earth in sight. As are many worse sights.
Out of the pan and into the fire, he thinks and beholds the Brood swarm completing its destruction of most of the Horusian convoy and decimation of his Nova Patrol Ship. He finds himself the only face against a massive swarm of monstrous aliens with no true home.
“Earth will be warned,” Ren whispers to himself in the black of space. Thousands, it seems, turn to the living Nova and swarm for him in a frenzy of action. He takes flight into the stratosphere of Earth, meeting the blues and the whites of its skies. Heat races over his body, but he ignores it. It is rather his shock when some of the Brood endure the heat as well, with dozens of them carrying massive crates that weather the intrusion into the sky.
It is rather worse when they cover him. Dozens swarm him, hurling their crates into the sky as they rush Nova. All of them as strong as the Broodqueen, likely her chosen for this - given forms of truly powerful aliens. They begin to tear free his uniform, piece by piece, and devour or poison his flesh by their teeth and stinger as they burn into re-entry. Heat washes off them as Nova struggles in his horror until they tear free his helmet. Defenseless, the heat takes him and he bursts into flame. The Brood rush away from him as the man turns to ash within the sky.
The Brood soar skyward, leaving the stratosphere into space once more. Crates collide with Earth and Sea, opening to allow white eggs to spill free. And a single golden helmet slams into sands amidst a desert, as a strong wind blows over it.
It begins to beep, its sublight transmission to the Xandarian SpaceCorps too distant to reach. A simple message repeated into infinity.
{ - - THIS IS THE RECORD LOG OF XANDARIAN SPACE CORPSMAN, REN TOSH, NOVA CENTURION, IDENT RT512KEL7. STATE REQUEST. - - }
END