Halcyon Days: Shatterpoint

Details
Cry Havoc and Let Slip the Dogs of War.

Timeline
Originally going to be set in 26th Century, but later to more unused or heard time -- the 28th Century, starting in September 2703.

Chapter One (V.I)
0930HRS, February 26, 2552 (Military Calendar) / USR Light Frigate Gannicus, Kaywinnet System. The ancient warship, a relic of the Earth-Venusian Interplanetary War, the USR Gannicus hung in orbit above of the planet Azura Prime. The four-decade old Obama-class light frigate's interior had been gutted and retrofitted to house numerous living quarters for various alien and human needs, and even a few entertainment venues for long ventures in deep space including a track and a rec room gym. At the moment Petty Officer (1st Class) Tyr'ahnee Tevoscounted as she struggled to pull herself up on one more inverted sit-up in the ship's gym; her body told her she had done enough, but the man beside told her to push herself. "C'mon Tyr'a, one more and you're done. One more, push it! Push it!" He urged. Tyr'ahnee's sweat coursed its way from her forehead and into her long snow-white hair,each strand slipped from the hair-tie and dangled. After several seconds of urging, she forced herself up with a loud grunt and grabbed ahold of the bar. "Two hundred. There you go. I knew you could do it." Tyr'ahnee exhaled heavily as she let go and reared back on the inverted board; the man smiled and untied the restraints holding her legs in place. She used her arms as a vault and landed on her feet. She stood with haste and groaned from the pain. "Goddamn that hurt." "You'll get over it, you Eshani are resilient." She cracked her back and stretched her leg muscles, the relief from her aching muscles made her go numb and she leaned against the wall for support. She chuckled. "You want to grab some lunch, Carlos?" He picked up a water bottle and took a swig before answering. "Wish I could. Got armory detail, Cunningham's been riding my ass about it lately." "Warrant officer Guerrera to the bridge. I repeat Guerrera to the bridge." "Speak of the devil. Sorry, can't leave the boss waiting." "See ya later, Carlos." Carlos departed, leaving the young Eshani in a room of the buff man-power United Systems Republic Marine Corps, even with others around, she felt alone and vulnerable since she was Navy and they weren't. She sighed and shrugged at the thought. At least I'm not the only non-human here. And she was right, there were several others, a pair of Teth, Arians, and Sarens. The Teth were friendly enough, known for their militaristic and disciplined culture, tall and muscular bipedal reptiles from the sixth moon of Temuera. The Arians on the other hand had a primitive society on Arias before the Great Stellar War, now their either soldiers or criminals, but have been known to take up missionary work much like Tyr'ahnee's own people. Not much was known about the Sarens however, they usually kept to themselves but if you stared long enough, their deep amethyst eyes would be on you and your entire body would go numb as if they were staring into the very core of your soul. Tyr'ahnee raised her arm and caught a whiff of her scent and wince. Oh shit, that is not a pleasant smell. She headed for the door and around the corridor, passing Marine and Naval personnel alike, officers and enlisted. When she made it to the locker-room, she immediately grabbed atowel and walked into the shower stall. She washed herself up and down, her hair, and after a minute she could feel the stink expelling from skin. After a second rundown she rinsed off and wrapped the towel around her before stepping out of the stall. Tyr'ahnee smiled at the soldier beside her and opened her locker, grabbing a fresh uniform, she quickly got dressed, rested her pistol in her holster, tied up her hair and left the locker-room. When she opened the door she saw security drones escorting a gurney with an unconscious man on it, he wore a tattered uniform she had never seen before. Without warning the man jumped up and grabbed one of the drones by its chassis and threw it into the wall. The look in his eye was that of fear, she knew it well from her first tour on Aalta, especially during the Battle of Foerost. "Who are you people?" He yelled. Before she could bring herself to blink, personnel were on him. "Restrain him." One of them said. Another injected him with a sedative and he fell face first to the floor, limp. They picked him up and place him back on the gurney and strolled him toward Tevos; the escort noticed her corpsman badge and beckoned for her to follow. Her curiosity pushed her along, she followed them to the infirmary and once there she helped slide the man's unconscious body off the gurney and onto the bed. "Okay, can I ask who the hell this guy is?" She asked, intently. The corpsman and Marine both shrugged. "Found him floating incryo-chamber outside, captain ordered we fish him out." "Yes I did. Can't just leave someone in this great void." Everyone stood at attention and saluted when they heard his voice. Shorter the six feet, brownish-blonde hair, and Caucasian skin, he was still the most respected officer aboard the Gannicus. "Captain Cunningham, sir, didn't hear you come in." "I know." He turned his blue eyes on the unconscious man before him, "Is he stable?" "Yes, sir. Just gave him a sedative to help him relax." "You think you can wake him up, lieutenant? I have some questions I want to ask him." "I can try, sir." The corpsman turned Tyr'ahnee, "Petty officer? Can you grab that orange vial and give him a two milligrams." "Sure." She did as she was asked and loaded the vial into the injector and grabbed his arm. When the needle touched the skin, without warning the man slapped it away, jumped off the bed and grabbed her by the throat. The Marine lifted his assault rifle and the erratic man twirled his body behind Tyr'ahnee's to shield himself, without letting go of her neck. Cunningham waved a hand at the Marine not to fire while making eye contact. "Whoa, buddy. Be calm." "Calm, who the fuck are you telling!? Who the fuck are you people and how'd I get here?" He blurted out. Tevos felt uncomfortable and was tempted to go for her sidearm but quickly abandoned the idea; this man was muscular she couldn't deny that and looked as if he could snap her neck like a twig if she tried anything. Best to wait it out she told herself. Best to wait. "I ask again: who the hell are you?" "I'm Captain Cunningham, this is lieutenant Davis, and corporal Crespo. The one you're holding hostage is Petty officer Tyr'ahnee Tevos. We're with the USR&mdash;United Systems Republic and you're aboard the Gannicus." He flexed his arm and it enclosed on Tevos' throat slightly. "How'd I get here." "We brought you aboard. You were in a cryo-chamber, just floating out there." There was a dead silence for a few moments, then Cunningham spoke again. "Sir, can I ask what your name is?" He didn't answer right away but after a few seconds he released Tevos and she fell to knees. She looked back up at him, the confused look on his face; his forehead furrowed, confused. "I don't know." He said, finally.

A few hours later after being questioned non-stop by the good captain, being given a physical and medical treatment for his apparent amnesia and any other sickness, the young man sat in his tattered uniform on the bed in the infirmary. Tevos dumped a duffel bag on floor beside the infirmary bed and gave the man a vaccine injection. Tyr'ahnee moved the injector away and put a cotton swab in its place. "That's for the hematological malignancy." She took up the remaining medical supplies and put them away in lower cabinet under the sink. "The what?" "Blood cancer. It's odd that you have it, since people are given shot as infants." He gave her a faint smile. "Maybe they missed one." She raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, maybe." She opened the duffel and lifted it, placing it beside him; he looked over, a clean white shirt, black trousers and boots sat prominently in it. "While you're with us, dress appropriately. You look like shit." "Uh-huh... by the way it's Marcus." He said. Tyr'ahnee raised an eyebrow. "What?" "The name you suggested earlier: 'Marcus', I'd like to go by that." "Good. Um, a new uniform is in that bag, you can get dressed, and if you want, Crespo will escort you to mess hall for some chow." "Thank you." Tyr'ahnee smiled wryly and turned to exit the room before he called her. "I'm sorry." He said. "Sorry about what?" "Earlier, when I grabbed your neck and held you as a prisoner." She looked away. "No hard feelings." Marcus stepped off the bed and approached her, she reacted and pulled out her M7A sidearm and pointed it at him. "Step back." He did as ordered and took a single step backward, he stared into her crimson red eyes, a certain degree of fear in them. "You don't like me, I get it." "I don't trust you. I don't trust what you are, who you are, or what you might be." "How can I earn it." She holstered her sidearm and grimaced. "The day you earn my trust is the day I die." With a wry chuckle she left the room, Crespo came in behind her, carrying a food tray with chicken, mash potatoes, and a green apple. He set the tray down on the bed and stepped back, and removed his helmet revealing a clean shaven middle-age Caucasian with blonde hairand brown eyes. Marcus leaned against the bed and looked at Crespo. Crespo caught his eye. "What?" Marcus felt his legs go limp and he dropped to the floor, hitting his head on the railing as he went down, he noticed Crespo over him yelling for help, sight faded and sound deafened against his eardrum as Tyr'ahnee came through the door and fell into unconscious.

Marcus walked down the corridor of the ship, riddled with corpses of USR soldiers and an odd bunch of mutated humanoids. He bent down to study one of them, it was female and Human or at least it used to be, the skin was matted with bloody lacerations as well as being partially burned, the mouth was glazed as if they cauterized it to prevent speech and the eyes were eerily pearl-white. He touched the mouth with a finger and the skin parted, he jumped back when a tiny black insect-like creature crawled out of it mouth and scurried away. Marcus's eyebrow twitch. "That's just wrong." The man stood and followed the critter around the corridor. "Master." You piece of shit.

Characters

 * ("The Republic")
 * Armed Forces
 * Tyr'ahnee "Tyr'a"; Sailor (Eshani female)
 * Sev; Marine (Human male clone)
 * Michael Cunningham; Sailor (Human male)


 * ("The Reavers"/"Draugrs" aka The Project)
 * Crespo; Marine (Human male)

Chapter One (V.II)
0930HRS, February 26, 2422 (Military Calendar) / Light Frigate Gannicus, Kaywinnet System. The ancient warship, a relic of the Earth-Venusian Interplanetary War, the Gannicus hung in orbit above of the planet Temuera. The four-decade old Obama-class cruiser's interior had been gutted and retrofitted to house numerous living quarters for various alien and human needs, and even a few entertainment venues for long ventures out on the frontier of deep space. But at the moment Lance (1st Class) Tyr'ahnee was questioning Captain Cunningham's orders to keep their strange passenger aboard the cruiser, even after the disturbance in Cryo Bay Two a few hours ago.

She knew he was busy with other matters at the moment, but her curiosity had got the better of her and she couldn't stop herself. "Sir, I need your inquiry on this guy since you're the only&mdash;"

"Listen, Tyr'a, let this go. The deeper you go down this rabbit hole, there's a good chance you're going to find something you're not going to like." The captain turned away and began looking over the holographic battle plans in front of him with another officer. Just before he gave Tyr'ahnee a dismissal he repeated his final statement and she saluted, and exited the bridge.

The deeper you go down this rabbit hole, there's a good chance you're going to find something you're not going to like. It reminded her of something her father told her once on her seventeenth birthday and that rang in the back of her head like loud commotion after a night of binge drinking with her friends back on Bastion. Ah, Bastion, the one true citadel of peace and prosperity in the Milky Way galaxy as it was the capital of the United Systems Republic, representing planets from the Inner Rim to the far reaches of the Mid Rim.

She chuckled and smiled, she could still hear the holosigns's advertisements; "Bastion, home of billions since 2156", "USR wants you," and her personal favorite was in lower decrepit levels of the 'prosperous' station where her childhood home and father's shop was: "Deeper the rabbit hole, the better the journey". That always stuck with her until her father died on her seventeenth birthday. The remembrance of her father bore a sour taste in her mouth and she grimaced.

By this time Tyr'ahnee decided to get some food from the mess hall to get rid of the taste.

Prologue
Fourth Moon of Dovah, Jungle region December 10, 2498 - 1305 hrs Lieutenant Tyr 'Ahnee hated jungle exercises, not that it was the jungle she hated, it was the stupid joke Anderson always made about the Tarsiidae being a bunch of simian-like sentient race from the planet Covance in the Covan system

Shatterpoint (V.V)
"Cry 'Havoc!', and Let slip the Dogs of War." &mdash; Julius Caesar

End of Prologue
Without warning Witwicky was thrown against the tank.

"... he's badly hurt." (Aaron) swam back to consciousness.

Chapter I (V.V)
U:23June18|

0930HRS, February 2, 2703 (Military Calendar) / GAC Light Frigate Gannicus, Kaywinnet System. The ancient warship, a relic of the Celestial War, the Gannicus hung in orbit above of the fourth moon of Dovah. The four-decade old Zonama I-class light frigate's interior had been gutted and retrofitted to house numerous living quarters for various alien and human needs, and even a few entertainment venues for long ventures in deep space including a track and a rec room/gym. At the moment Ensign Tyr 'Ahnee counted as she struggled to pull herself up once more on the inverted sit-up in the ship's gym; her body told her she had done enough, but the man beside told her to push herself. "C'mon Tyr'a, one more and you're done. One more, push it! Push it!" He urged. Tyr'ahnee's sweat coursed its way from her forehead and into her long silvery snow-white hair, each strand slipped from the hair-tie and dangled. After several seconds of urging, she forced herself up with a loud grunt and grabbed ahold of the bar. "Two hundred. There you go. I knew you could do it." Tyr exhaled heavily as she let go and reared back on the inverted board; the man smiled and untied the restraints holding her legs in place. She used her arms as a vault and landed on her feet. She stood with haste and groaned from the pain. "Goddamn you, Carlos, that hurt." "You'll get over it, you Eshani are resilient." She cracked her back and stretched her leg muscles, the relief from her aching muscles made her go numb and she leaned against the wall for support. She chuckled. "You want to grab some food?" He picked up a water bottle and took a swig before answering. "Wish I could. Got armory detail, Cunningham's been riding my ass about it lately, saying something about always be ready for anything." "Warrant officer Guerrera to the bridge. Repeat: warrant officer Guerrera to the bridge." "Speak of the devil. Sorry, can't leave the boss waiting." "See ya later, Carlos." Carlos departed, leaving the young Eshani in a room of the buff man-power Galactic Alliance Coalition Armed Forces, even with other agents from other races around, she felt alone and vulnerable since she was an Eshani and they weren't, she felt like the odd one out. She sighed and shrugged at the thought. At least I'm not the only non-human here. And she was right, there were several others, a pair of Teth, Aryans, and Sarens. The Teth were friendly enough, known for their militaristic and disciplined culture, tall and muscular bipedal reptiles from the sixth moon of Temuera. The Aryans on the other hand had a primitive society on Aryas before the Celestial War, now they're either soldiers or criminals, but have been known to take up missionary work much like Tyr's own people. Not much was known about the Sarens however, they usually kept to themselves but if you stared long enough, their deep amethyst eyes would be on you and your entire body would go numb as if they were staring into the very core of your soul. Tyr raised her arm and caught a whiff of her scent and wince. Oh shit, that is not pleasant. She headed for the door and around the corridor, passing Marine and Naval personnel alike, officers and enlisted. When she made it to the locker-room, she immediately grabbed a towel and walked into the shower stall to undress. She washed herself up and down, her hair, and after a minute she could feel the stink expelling from her skin. After a second extended rundown she rinsed off and wrapped the towel around herself before stepping out of the stall. Tyr smiled at the Teth marine beside her, (he was a handsome fellow for a biped lizard-man with mandibles) and opened her locker, grabbing a fresh uniform, she quickly got dressed, resting her standard issue Smith & Wesson M7 Personal Defense Weapon System sidearm in her holster, tied up her hair in a tight ponytail and left the locker-room. When the door slid open she saw security drones escorting a gurney with an unconscious man on it, he wore a tattered black body-suit she had never seen before and there was a strange symbol on it, like a circle. Without warning, the man suddenly jumped up and grabbed one of the drones by its chassis and shoved it into the wall, remains of it legs hanging from cords. The look in his eye was that of fear, she knew it well from her first tour on Aalta, especially during the Fall of Tevet. "Who are you people?" He yelled. Before she could bring herself to blink, the Gannicus's personnel were on him. "Restrain him." One of them ordered. Another injected him with a sedative and he fell face first to the floor, limp. They picked him up and place him back on the gurney and strolled him toward 'Ahnee; the escort noticed her corpsman badge and beckoned for her to follow. Her curiosity pushed her along, she followed them to the infirmary and once there she helped slide the man's unconscious body off the gurney and onto the bed. "Okay, can I ask who the hell this guy is?" She asked, intently. The corpsman and Marine both shrugged. "Don't know. Found him snuffing around underground in that facility, the captain ordered Omega Squad to fish him out." "Yes I did." Everyone stood at attention and saluted when they heard his voice. Shorter the six feet, brownish-blonde hair, and Caucasian skin, he was still the most respected officer aboard the Gannicus. "Captain Cunningham, sir, didn't hear you come in." "I know." He turned his blue eyes on the unconscious man before him, "Is he stable, Sara?" "Yes, sir. Just gave him a sedative to help him relax." "You think you can wake him up, lieutenant? I have some questions I want to ask him." "I can try, sir." The corpsman turned to Tyr, "Ensign? Can you grab that orange vial and give him two milligrams." "Sure." She did as she was asked and loaded the vial into the injector and grabbed his arm. Before the needle touched the skin, without warning the man slapped it away, jumped off the bed and grabbed her by the throat. The marine lifted his rifle and the erratic man twirled his body behind Tyr's to shield himself, without letting go of her neck. Cunningham waved a hand at the marine warning him not to fire while making eye contact with the crazed. "Whoa, buddy. Be calm." "Calm? Who the fuck are you telling!? Who the fuck are you people and how'd I get here?" He blurted out. 'Ahnee felt uncomfortable and was tempted to go for her sidearm but quickly abandoned the idea; this man was strong and muscular she couldn't deny that and looked as if he could snap her neck like a twig if she tried anything or if he simply felt like it at anytime. Best to wait it out she told herself. Best to wait. "I ask again: who the hell are you?" "I'm Captain Michael Cunningham, this is lieutenant Sara Davis, and corporal Nicholas Crespo. The one you're holding hostage is ensign Tyr 'Ahnee. We're with the GAC&mdash;Galactic Alliance Coalition and you're aboard the Gannicus." He flexed his arm and it enclosed on Tyr's throat slightly. "How'd I get here." "We brought you aboard. You were in a cryo-chamber underground, my men brought you up here." There was a dead silence for a few moments, then Cunningham spoke again. "Sir, can I ask what your name is?" He didn't answer right away, obviously trying to make sense of everything as if he had no clue about current events but after a few seconds he released 'Ahnee and she fell to her knees gasping for air. She looked back up at him, the confused look on his face; his forehead was furrowed, a flustered expression etched there. "I don't know." He said, finally, after a long moment of silence.

A few hours later after being questioned non-stop by the good captain, being given a physical and medical treatment for his apparent amnesia and any other sickness, the young man sat in his tattered uniform on the bed in the infirmary. Tyr dumped a duffel bag on floor beside the infirmary bed and gave the man a vaccine injection. Tyr moved the injector away and put a cotton swab in its place. "That's for the hematological malignancy." She took up the remaining medical supplies and put them away in lower cabinet under the sink. "The what?" "Blood cancer. It's odd that you have it, since everyone are given shot as infants." He gave her a faint smile. "Maybe they missed one." She raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, maybe." She opened the duffel and lifted it, placing it beside him; he looked over, a clean white shirt, black trousers and boots sat prominently in it. "While you're with us, dress appropriately. You look like shit." "Uh-huh..." He said. Looking up from the bag Tyr caught his eyes. She raised an eyebrow. "What?" "Red eyes, white hair, dark skin. That's interesting." "Hm-mm, I'm Eshani. Um, a new uniform is in that bag, you can get dressed, and if you want, Crespo will escort you to mess hall for something to eat." He nodded. "Thank you." Tyr smiled wryly and turned to exit the room before he called her. "I'm sorry." He said. "Sorry about what?" "Earlier, when I grabbed your neck and held you as a captive." She looked away. "No hard feelings." She knew she didn't sound too convincing. Try it again and I'll kill you! Were her thoughts. The man stepped off the bed and approached her, she reacted with hostility and pulled out her sidearm and pointed it at him. "Step back!" He did as ordered and took a single step backward, he stared into her crimson red eyes, a certain degree of fear in them. "You don't like me, I get it." "I don't trust you. I don't trust what you are, who you are, or what you might be." "How can I earn it." She holstered her sidearm and grimaced. "The day you earn my trust is the day I die." With a wry chuckle she left the room, Crespo came in behind her, carrying a food tray with chicken, mash potatoes, and a green apple. Tyr walked halfway down the hall before she realized she might have been a bit less tolerant than Cunningham ordered her to be. She shook her head, Fuck! She decided to head back to the room.

...

He set the tray down on the bed and stepped back, and removed his helmet revealing a clean shaven middle-age Caucasian with blonde hairand brown eyes. "Sorry, the cap doesn't quite trust you yet." Three-Eight leaned against the bed and looked at Crespo. The marine caught his eye. "What?" Three-Eight felt his legs go limp and he dropped to the floor, hitting his head on the railing as he went down, he noticed Crespo over him yelling for help, sight faded and sound deafened against his eardrum as Tyr came running through the door and fell he into unconsciousness.

Three-Eight walked down the corridor of a ship, corroded metal, damaged light fixtured, riddled with corpses of GAC personnel and an odd bunch of mutated humanoids. He bent down to study one of them, it was female and Human or at least it used to be, the skin was matted with bloody lacerations as well as being partially seared, the mouth was glazed as if they cauterized it to prevent speech and the eyes were eerily pearl-white. He touched the mouth with a finger and the skin parted, he jumped back when a tiny black insect-like creature crawled out of it mouth and scurried away. Three-Eight's eyebrow twitch. "That's just wrong." The man stood and followed the critter around the corridor. "Master." You piece of shit.

Excerpt
Allon felt a tingle in the back of his head, one he couldn't scratch, he hadn't felt that sensation since he been aboard the Gannicus, when Tyr A'hnee had sneaked up on him after he came out of the shower. Her indifferent expression at his nude form, even though he still had no memory of who he once that moment unnerved him a bit, making him self-conscious. As he sat at the sticky counter in the Guinness Cornerclub, surrounded by dozens denizens from dozens of planets and moon, he sipped his cup of whiskey grimacing at the bitter taste, but at least it helped dull the mental aberration he was feeling in regard to his amnesia.

After a moment of quiet thought he heard Tyr's voice, "I thought you didn't like drinking?"

Waltham



Acknowledgements
Acknowledgements

James Patterson, Jude Watson, Karen Traviss, Kevin J. Anderson George Lucas, A. C. Crispin, John Jackson Miller Mark Millar, Joss Whedon, Drew Karpyshyn Thank you all for the inspiration I've garnered, your talented works of literature have given me the insight, and the courage to go along and write my own story, creating my own universe.

Brian Olivas, Sharelle McGee, past friends and encouraging teachers I appreciate all the encouragement, assistance and guidance you've given me, and I promise if this become a phenomenon I won't let it go to my head, again thank you all so very much.

'Sharelle, this is especially for you, my little nightingale''. I love you, more you could possibly know.''' &mdash; One Love, Aaron.

Prologue
A TERRESTRIAL PLANET, on the edge of the Outer Rim Territories, in a star system far from the galactic core. One of over forty billion planets in the Milky Way galaxy, also one of the few hundreds deemed inhospitable to life. Humanoid life that is; an apparent backlash caused by a centuries-old conflict conducted with nuclear armaments that once scarred the surface of the arboreal mass. As time passed, flora and fauna evolutionarily adapted to the desolate world, once peaceful creatures and beautiful vegetation mutated, posing significant threat to any who dared step foot on the surface, along with the minor residual nuclear clouds left over.

However, miles beneath the poisoned surface, something was awakening. Something, or someone.

Pitch black. And eerily silent as he became aware; awoken, but delirious, he couldn't tell which way was up. Feeling confined as if in an enclosed space, he moved his hands forward, they touched something solid, not metal. . . no, it was glass. He attempted to open it by pushing forward, to no avail instead he deepened his body into the foam-like cushioning he was lying against. Where am I? He thought. He concentrated on remembrance for a moment but couldn't muster a thing; his past, the date, not even his own identity. It all eluded him completely.

He peered through the glass at a sudden spark in the distance behind two panes of glass, the dark room ahead just barely illuminated by a sparkling wire every few seconds; it was just enough to see he was in some sort of containment pod, and it was cold. Freezing, even.

He rubbed his right knuckles as it was the only part of his flesh that was bare, feeling the stiff hair protruding from his skin; it was strange and uncomfortable. The man moved his hands around the pod trying to feel for anything that might help, when he reached upward he felt a handle and grasped it. Pulling it, the pod hissed as it began to disengage the latches, he sighed with relief when it opened up but then grimaced almost as quickly when he caught a whiff of the air.

"Damn." He said aloud, as he stood up and stepped out of the cushioning interior, touching the cold metallic floor with his bare feet. He quickly turned his attention on the smell and where it was coming from, he followed his nose, sniffing the air&mdash;it was revolting to say the least, but nevertheless effective as he discovered the odor seemed to be coming through the air vents above. Before he could take a step his legs trembled and caused him to collapse and fall to the floor face first. "Ah, fuck!" He hissed before he started speaking a language he didn't even understand, "Ikarht ma duun zishk dramund ka'asii!"

The man laid there stunned, wearied legs unable to compensate the weight of his body and gravity pressing his face against the agonizingly cold floor. He laid there for several prolonged minutes before garnering the strength to push himself up from the ground and grabbing the handle bar on the side of the pod; he groaned and winced as he pulled himself up. He held his body close to the external handle, sustaining his weight on it until he got a footing. Come on, damn it, get up!

After several seconds passed he attempted to take a step while still holding on, he made sure it was secure before letting go and taking another step toward the window where he saw the spark. Knowing holding onto the bar was just a handicap he slowly let go, afraid that his infirm body would drop again, but it didn't take long as he took a firm footing before walking forward. His steps were slow and still as he made his way around to the side door, luckily it was unlatched, a second glance revealed it was actually being blocked by something. He used the door to help him stoop down to see what it was, he moved in close to get a good look. It was a hand, metallic in appearance, the man stood back up and pried the door all the way open revealing a bot arm lying there, he quickly surveyed the room and found the bot it belonged to and a man in a bloodied white lab coat lying with his back against a console, dead.

"What the hell happened here?"

Suddenly, the bot next to him eyes started glowing yellow and it sparked back to life as he approached the dead man, spewing sparks, pre-recorded dialogue introducing itself as SP-43RO a personal assistance bot, and spoke of other subjects that just made no sense to him; speaking of a Galactic Federation, something called a Reaver and the galaxy at large. But the word Reaver caught his ear, as if he heard it before.

The man began sliding off the dead guy's boots and slipped them on, they were old and worn but he didn't care, his attention was far more centered on the malfunctioning bot. "Whoa whoa, go back to the part about the Reavers, what are they?"

The bot fizzed, crackled, and popped sparks before saying anything, "Gzzt . . .humans . . . failed exper. . .augmented bi . . . gzzt mass infection . . . the flood."

He raised a brow. "The flood?"

"Gzzt . . . flood of infection. Contagion . . . quarantine failed, breached Olympus. Primary protocol failed. Self-deactivation initiated."

"Protocol, what&mdash;deactivation? Wait, I have more questions." The man grabbed the bot by it's neck joint with both hands, but it was too late, the eyes' yellow glow faded, "Damn it." He exclaimed quietly, letting the bot sag down, he moved back over to the corpse. Who's gonna answer my questions now? He patted the dead guy's face, ''You, handsome? I don't think so.''

He searched the man's coat and pulled out a data pad and pistol among other things; he trained himself with it for several moments before raising himself to the terminal the dead man was leaning against. He activated the screen and found the login screen, it had a bio-metric scanner. Not wanting to take the chance of it locking him out, he grabbed the deceased at his feet and raised to eye level of the scanner and waited for it to finish, when it he gently laid him back down. "Thanks," he stopped to look at the screen, "Jayson Allon?"

He scrolled through the files until one caught his eye, it read: HELIOS Project, he clicked it but another lock activated this time it was a numerical code and it was timed, probably triggered to shut down whatever here was left on. Damn. He thought, there was no way to know the password. He turned away from the terminal and started walking down the hall, "Thanks anyway, Jayson," he said as he left the man's body behind.

Chapter I
0930HRS, August, 2703 (Military Calendar) / Light Frigate Gannicus, Kaywinnet System.

Prologue (HD:S, V.7)
0835 Hrs, June 1, 2703 (Military Calendar) / Helion System: Planet Kalavia

Military brass, every high-ranking officer of the Galactic Federation of Allied Planets with a commissioned officers' paygrade sat together in a conference room at the capitol building. Conferring on what to do about the constant dwindling source of soldiers to fight the Reaver threat across the galaxy. Debating for hours on end like a lot of politicians, many of them were still unsure of what to do. After a moment, the Kaewar colonel Corinthus spoke up when he saw Major Hawkins sitting quietly, seemingly contemplating something with his fingers.

"Virgil." he called.

The man seemed almost oblivious. "Hm?"

"What are you thinking?"

He stopped moving his fingers and placed his hands flat and firmly on the conference table, "Many of you may not agree with what I have in mind."

"What are you proposing, Major?"

"Reenact the Redemption Act of 2544."

All, except Corinthus and Admiral Vadam gawked at him with utter disgust and disapproval in the eyes.

"The Open Arms Program?" he said with obvious disgust, "Absolutely not, we can't allow these animals free, it would be hectic."

"You think?" Hawkins raised a brow and said, "Our scientists came up with an inhibitor coding so we could maintain the masses."

He removed a small metal device from his pocket and showed it to his colleagues. The rest of them knew what it was and were a bit puzzled but it seemed Corinthus to know where he was going with it though he said nothing as of yet, continuing to look on in intrigue.

"As you can see it's a neural interface, not unlike our own, but with an added perk, platoon and company commanders would get remote codes that activate these devices and sends a painful electroshock treatment to any convict in violation of the terms such disobeying orders."

"Sounds a bit unethical, don't you think? I mean we're violating their naturalrights." The martian colonel Ferreth said.

It didn't take a full minute for him to muster a response but before he could say anything Corinthus interjected, "They are prisoners, J'onn. They lost their rights when they committed the crimes that landed them in a penitentiary."

"Gentlemen, the Reavers are relentless and we could use the cannon fodder so they real troops can return in one piece; if they live through it, they can go home to whatever rat-hole they came from, if they don't, they're probably dead anyway."

There was silence for a long moment, each officer thinking about the pros and cons about the reactivation and the troubles released convicts could cause but all in all, the most they would be used for was suicide missions and being on the frontlines ahead of actual military personnel. Corinthus and Hawkins gave each other a glance and nodded, after another few seconds, he spoke again, "All those in favor of reactivation of the Open Arms Program, say aye."

Corinthus was the first to say, "Aye."

Following his lead, there was a collective of affirmations by officers, including Ferreth.

"Then meeting adjourned."

Everyone packed up to go, Hawkins waved farewell to Corinthus managed to squeeze through the traffic of security, diplomats and senators in the hall make it to his office in the east wing of the Department of Defense. When walked in he immediately recognized the presence of his old friend in black and crimson at his his window looking out and sat down at his desk beside him, opening the drawer and pouring a glass of 2642 Kel Hennessey. He handed it to the man.

Accepting the glass, he said, "The pieces fall into place, Major?"

Hawkins poured another before closing the drawer, "And soon the war will be over?"

"Soon, Virgil, soon."

He sipped the beverage, hissing at the burning sensation it left. "Good."

"Virgil, how long have we known each other?"

"I'd say just shy of twenty years. Why?"

He sipped the liqueur. "I was just wondering how long I should mourn you."

"Hephaestus?"

It was too late for cries of mercy and pity, he felt a tight grip on his throat but their was no visible hand at it or holding him by any physical means. He managed to look over at Hephaestus who was still staring out the window nonchalantly, seemingly oblivious to his plight until he spoke a moment later.

"I apologize, Virgil. But I cannot afford loose ends, your friendship was valued deeply, but I simply can't allow you to run around the galaxy unchecked." He removed a small knife with a circular imprint on the blade, from the inside of his coat, it was a design but he couldn't make what it was."Have you ever wondered why they call me Hephaestus, because of course that isn't my real name, my real name is&mdash;well now, that's not really important at the moment."

The blood vessels in Hawkins' eyes were starting to constrict, causing them to appear red.

"Many of my colleagues began to call me Doctor Hephaestus; maybe it's because I'm the craftsman of the best augmented soldiers the universe will ever see," he continued, "or maybe because the war was the spark to my flame; my soldiers, the anvil, and I'm the hammer."

By the time he stopped talking, Hawkins was dead, bleeding profusely on the brand new carpet at his desk, eyes frozen on the moment of ultimate betrayal. Hephaestus removed the blade from his neck and wiped the knife off with a cloth and placed it back in its place.

He sat in the now vacant chair at the desk and sipped his drink saying, "The ingots will be along soon."

Hephaestus relaxed into his seat and sipped his drink, as a single tear slid down his cheek.

Chapter I (HD:S, V.7)
05:23 Hrs, July 7, 2703 (Military Calendar) / Ulysses S. Grant Judiciary Detention Center

Chapter II (HD:S, V.7)
10:24 Hrs, July 11, 2703 (Military Calendar) / Ulysses S. Grant Judiciary Detention Center

"Thomas Rickard." They called. Jayson Allon was next. He wasn't sure if he made the right decision or not. Being a patsy to the government that locked him up.

Halcyon: Shatterpoint (v.7 revisioned)
Obedezca