| TheLtleTramp | Date: Saturday, 2014/April/19, 1:14 AM | Message # 1 |
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Monday, November 3rd, 2014
Group: Forum Visitor
Messages: 5
Status: Offline
| The ship is a morgue, everyone on it is either dead or dying and all that remains is the packaging away. So it is that a greatly wounded Nathaniel Marrow struggles to find a reason to look upon ashes. For a moment he entertains the thought of being the still born babe that never opened its eyes, never lived never died, but then another scream rings out, utterly shattering Nathan's shroud of cowardice.
“No, I have to see it coming” he tells himself, he felt he owed his family that much at least . Nathaniel's forces his shuttered eyelids apart and finds himself squinting into a nightmare . The dark scarlet dim of the emergency lights seemed to dye the shattered room in the colour of dread, the walls on the bridge had been torn to shreds by all manner of fire arms in the preceding massacre. Not 7 minutes ago the crew were discussing which flight path would take them directly to the nearest core world capable of accommodating the refugees they had picked up from Haven. Then, without warning, the captains neck erupted into a red smile and blood was flowing freely from his faux grin. His neck had been instantly ravaged by an invisible hand right before the crews eyes .They each grabbed whatever weapon they could find and started firing wildly at shadows, Nathan himself shot his old model rifle with complete vengeful abandon. The captain had been a good friend to Nathan's father, they were both poor farmers once, until the captain sold all he had for an old hercules class carrier. He came back a made man several years later and Nathan's dad wanted the same for him. The captain was glad to oblige and Nathan shared his skies right till this very day.
Around Nathan the crew was falling, mostly to spontaneous gun and knife wounds, but every now and then a friend would bleed from their ears and crumple like a doll. Eventually the ammo all the ammo had been spent, the crew's panic turned to utter terror. The end result was a sluggish rain fall of blood dancing about the gravity-less room, splattering against a wall or corpse every now and then, adorning the space like the wilted petals of a rose caught and pieced apart by a Korhal breeze .
Up to this moment Nathaniel was unable to realize the true horror of his surroundings. Everything just seemed different now , this was not the place where he had dined and slept and laughed and cried for the past eight years of his life. He may as well have been stranded in a hive cluster at the centre of char. Despite the nightmare assaulting his senses he commits to the struggle of finding a recognizable face within the unrecognizable madness before him.
But there were none, death had twisted even the brightest of features. To his left Nathaniel gazes upon the remnants of his friend Matthew, he takes note of how Mathew had held on to that same distinct look of sudden shock that he had had over 5 minutes ago when a knife popped out of his chest and carved him in two at a downward angle. Nathaniel could still see himself welcoming Mathew onto the crew over 6 years ago. At the time his cheeks were pink his hair was uncut and his bag was stuffed with clothes that his mother had made him for the journey to come. That same day the captain had told Nathaniel to look out for Mathew, no doubt he would hold Nathaniel responsible for Matts fate, but said captains was the first to die, so there was no one left to chastise Nathaniel but Nathaniel.
His eyes then drifted to the corner of the bridge where Arthur and Merrill, bitterest of rivals and the captain's only sons, they were sharing a massive bullet wound delivered by a rifle longer than a Hyrda's spine. About four minutes ago Arthur was standing in front of his brother hoping to intercept any shots with his own body. Even in the face of death, with no father left to impress, he sought to outdo his brother to the last, but the bullet refused to be swayed and plowed through the brothers collective torso. Driving them both into a wall 8 feet from where they were hit .
And so the list of causalities grew and grew as Nathaniel surveyed ruins of his life, Sammy, Joss, Malcolm, all dead, his family in the sky was gone forever, but the slaughter was not yet complete. He finally heard the last straws of hope shouting and begging for mercy in the deck below, as the ships alarm announced the crack of the airlock. The captain had Nathan and the crew rescue over a hundred settlers from Haven in the midst of a heated battle. Farm folk, little families struggling to survive on the fringes of the sector kicked around by wars they had nothing to do with. The ship was on it's way back to Mar Sara when they heard the beacon. The rescue was certainly the most valiant deed the crew had ever carried out. The captain believed that deep down every human being desires nothing more than to save a life. He considered the whole endeavour a gift to his crew. Now that wondrous triumph that had wracked the ships frame with cheers of relief and gratitude not 10 minutes ago was being completely drowned out by the sound of the hangar door, opening up, and inviting the emptiness in to greet all 106 of the colonists we'd had settled in the hanger. The whole thing lasts maybe 20 seconds, 20 seconds of swallowed screams, and then its over. Everyone but Nathan is dead.
Tears find their way from his eyes to a puddle of his own blood on the floor,
He too has suffered his share of wounds. Yet what pains him far more than the dagger in his side or the armour piercing rounds in his legs is the fact that the madness costing him and his loved ones their lives, is standing in plain sight just a few feet away, carving a trinket of bone from a girl who had joined the crew a month before, whose name Nathan wished he'd had the courage to ask.
A steel mask in the shape of a skull, possessed by two gaping ruby eyes. A body of twisted black metal and blood stained creases. A dozen knives strapped to a vast torso and a behemoth rifle clinging to delicate palms. A ghost, but not a ghost. The menace began to close in as Nathan's world turned dark. It's voice came out a dark whisper.
“Look upon the ship, it is new again, you cant see it can you? Death is wasted upon you, it was wasted on all of them, you all did not deserve the wonder that he bestowed upon you.”
A final reluctant blade mercifully sends Nathan on his way. The moment Nathan's life abandons him the Spectre starts to shake. He sits down in a blood soaked corner, drags a recording out from his belt, puts it on repeat and listens. “All units, take out the colony, they are all infected, no ones leaves Haven. Lets just gets this over with Raiders"
Jim's voice never fails to becalm the Spectre. Today all it takes is an hour. The Spectre gets up and rigs the ship. He then re boards the stealth pod that he attached to the ships side just two hours before and just like that, he's gone. As he nears the Hyperion the detonation rolls over him but he barely feels it. He had lost track of all time and just barely caught the cruiser, as he boards the ship he is overwhelmed with relief, but gets nervous again just imagining what would happen if he'd missed the Hyperion. After all, whatever would the Raiders do without him?
helop
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| Oblivion | Date: Monday, 2014/April/28, 4:00 PM | Message # 2 |
 Thursday, April 24th, 2014
Group: Graduate
Messages: 832
Status: Offline
| Quality work. 
Formerly Known as A1a3a1(ConFed)
:|: Inducted as a Confederation Legend in 2009 :|:
Commandant :|: Fleet Admiral :|: Domestic Advisor :|: Vice President :|: President
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