Damycles
Izurich
Vesuvius00
Alby47
TaintedMushroom
Theyra
xxjessicaxx
13org
KjbivinsThe gealtirocht alone in his thoughts and in the bowels of the biomechanical vessel soon would be interrupted from his increasingly distorted thoughts by a notification on their personal communications device - MAKE YOUR WAY TO THE DESIGNATED ROOM.
Within separated rib like construction of the wall lights flashed just brightly enough for their eyes to spot their flicker, a linear pattern trailing down the hallway, past a windowed room, towards a series of automated doors visible to their honed sight. The little trilobite-esque creates flittering within their elongated crevices flashed their lights as if directing a plane to land.
Behind those doors the Invictoid's digital systems flicked through the channels on the television; flashes of jarring and increasingly alien text, channels intended for those whose perception of the world was of a more amorphous and ambiguous nature, before a different broadcast was settled on. A symbol covered the screen for a moment. It was a coiling creature of centipede appearance... no, not one but two emerging raised heads and triumphant in posture from a tripartite skull of curving ridges and upwards gazing eyes - impaled from all their would-be flat sides by long lances, some of which resembled insectoid limbs and others tribal weaponry.
It vanished not even leaving an afterimage. In its place was the familiar sight of the Rhodes Valley not as a distant rolling tapestry of a besieged but relentless armored advance but the beings who had stormed its length and driven out the foreign occupation. It was not a pleasant scene; the camera flickered on occasion, blurred artifacts clinging to the screen before it was wiped down in a wave of gentle light-teal light. The channel was no doubt one associated with the central Intransigence planets if that was all was needed to counteract the backwas of ethereal radiation interfering with electronics.
It could not however hold back the strange mixture of jubilation and anger that shoved, howled, celebrated amongst, and clung to the deceased. The armor of those they had seen scurrying and sprinting amidst blasts of cannon fire and machine gun spray now with rifles clacking against the biometallic armor plating and laden bandoliers, hanging limply on their shoulder straps. There was skin visible; human in its many colours or motttled-rotted green-brown-yellow amongst them - the great numbers of tarrhaidim present brilled with explosive emotion no different from human counterparts.
There was no real conversation towards the camera-holder; some of what was uttered were the mumbles of the mourning through the tears that poured from eyes adapted to see further and more precisely than a human normally might. One human desperately pulling out another mottle-camo patterned body, furiously shaking it by the shoulders, their tongue some bizarre mish-mash of adapted local tarrhaidim and English - "Not your time to rot. Not your time to rot. Not your time to rot." The specifics were difficult to make out, some local mantra, but the words became indistinct. The sorrow verbalized as hands placed themselves onto the now unrecognizable remains, extracting keepsakes and supplies alike of a fallen friend, clashed against the resonant howls and uproarious celebration the camera swung to next.
Upon the shattered body of some of the huge walkers, with the faint blue glow of where the stadium-esque League command center once stood in the background. The air blurred and the space around it undulated and twisted, sickly pinkish colours bruising into the strains of realspace sitll recovering from the Envenomed's horrific artillery strike. It was as if a fire burned there not with flame but colours that warped in and out of the visible spectrum, bending the image which they could see. Tattered walls and smoking gun emplacements stretched and blurred as if some gelatinous, invisible substance was being pulled and compacted around them yet one that took on strange and foul colours as it did so.
It was not an unearthly bonfire that the soldiers, rifles grabbed around their receivers and held high as if offerings, were celebrating. The camera closed in, shaking as a civilian figure - tall, gealtirocht clad in white-purple ballistic padding around its broad torso, striding with ease over the debris unlike the camera operator - walked onto the field. They were not alone; craggy skinned celaderaka, a tarrhaidim clad in overlapping robes fluttering as it walked with ceremonial moon-shaped medals pinned to the ballistic armor-implants beneath, and a berreted human whose darkened skin bore a series of bruises next areas of strangely lighter colouration, all raising their hands and welcoming the cheer.
The gealtirocht turned, cranial-mounted microphone letting them gesture and point as the audio mix momentarily diminished the sound of whatever meeting or reunion was occurring.
"Live here from the scene of the recent Rhodes Valley Offensive, where all constituent members of the Zanovia Reclamation Front participated. As you can see, the price paid is steep and the wounds on the people and the land will remain long after even the colonial occupation departs."
The digitigrade alien's actual tongue seemed far harsher than the english of the subtitles, live-translated with some sort of specialized digital intelligence program, popping up at the bottom of the screen. Its features were anguillid, predatory even with its semi-elongated head and the visible slightly curving knife-teeth it spoke through, but the rush of emotion on its features were kept barely in check. Something between a proud grin and a heavy emotional weight played across its features.
"Front infantry, many of which are veterans of multi-continential conflicts dating back to before the forceful renaming to New Prospery, even before Sazan's rise to planetary leadership of the umbrella organization, were deployed en masse. As one can see-
The camera swept this time to behind where they were all situated - far, far behind the mountain that the squad had been battling upon during their short stay on the planet. If the destroyed CivSec command centre looked like an invisible jellyfish wearing reality's skin ready to burst from expanding pressure, then the expansive of anomalous swollen wounds in the fabric of space was a whole field of pulsing wounds in the visible spectrum of realspace itself each one still seeping a sickly purplish-pink gaseous light.
"A massive level of void-artillery was used to try and stall the advance but soldiers report that the weapon later on ceased its firing, before firing again, destroying the main stronghold in the area and a mobile command centre, then a nearby bunker."
The alien paused for a moment, exchanging unclear words with a pair of soldiers, one whose fungoid skull was reduced to a lower jawbone at most and the two human troopers underneath both of its arms, hauling the hole-marked torso gurgle-intoning some sort of distorted prayer. Two optical-tendrils with bulbous ends peered at the camera before their comrades, grinning ear to ear looked away from the reporter to say some sort of half-blurred ring of expletives - something to the effect of bleeding the colonizers dry and mailing their distant League backers the fear-induced excrement of the nation sector's governor as a parting gift, to be mailed courtesy of a Sazan Kal-Hayalat .
The gealtirocht turned to the camera, their words momentarily muted by a roar of jeers and howls of violent support. Bodies laid upon stretches coughed and hacked, raising fists or clanging knives against armor plating. A joyous cacophony, one that even the anguilid xeno could not help but curl its lips into a smile with, revealing rows of teeth that began to curve backwards - it looked not hungry but smug in its satisfaction with the enthusiasm.
Slowly the energy died down.
"In more pressing news, a recent prisoner exchange was completed as part of the ongoing negotiations wherein the foreign-backed settler government was forced in exchange for the eldest son of a noble scielto househood, release a number of major leaders of the ZRF coalition - as you can see-"
He gestured off to the trio from earlier, now appearing to hold a small conference of their own. A private military channel with the crews operating the various forms of recording equipment all in much of the same motley uniforms and aggressively dated armor patterning. One did not need to hear or understand a word of what was spoken in order to see the vigor and hopefulness in them; the way their hands rose as if commanding not an army but an orchestra, the assembled soldiers behind them grinning through their battle scars, some of the wounded ones even hoisted up by allies, made it appear to be the least professional confefence possible.
"With the unfortunate loss of Sazan, means that negotiations are still ongoing with the remaining leadership, many of which are of ex-Dominion origin as well as trained by Intransigent forces. Face-saving measures including talks of a 'transitional government' have gone well in the hours leading up to the makeshift battlefield conference, with similar talks happening elsewhere on the world. For once, the native inhabitants have the position of power not only over the tables of diplomacy rooms but the very soil of they and their predecessors. I believe it is fair to say that-"
The screen flicked off and the skeletal machine turned back to the squad they controlled.
"Now, who among you would have preferred the bloodshed to continue? Purely on my own terms, I would not have minded - strategic possibilities were endless. These are not however, my people or my planet. Did you know that it was not even Sazan's? You do not need to read intercepted coms and intelligence to know that he was not even a native of Zanovia. Why, there was a televisted broadcast a day or so ago while you were on the way to be dployed; a vrexul veteran mentioned his work writing speeches for Yrrkradian leaders, went so far as to say that tarrhaidim was not our friend. Truthfully, he was not wrong about him."
Its movements were sudden. Machines were not of flesh, blood and skin, and its steps were strides that brought it before Alice. There was no shadow to loom over her, only byzantine details of advanced cybernetics to stare back.
"Sazan was useful but not a believer in revolution; neither are the others who back the Front. He knew warmaking but his desire to prolonging the conflict for a distant total victory would mean drawing in the League and the Dominion alike as things further escalated. An expansion of the conflict and the diminishing of Intransigent allies there; cruel as what we did was, crueller still would have been the cost of throwing our prayers to wind. A transitional government may not sound glamorous, but I would prefer the transfer of power into the hands of the liberated masses. It also gives us time to sort out issues with the Dominion-backed elements in the Front and less trouble transitioning into popular governance; we are completing our goals with a lesser body count."
One of the Invictoid's hands raised, a single digit pointing at her between her eyes.
"Know this; the very nature of what you are here for crosses more lines of interstellar relations than you can even begin to fathom. You are not fighting a war of right and wrong; right and wrong exist, but they only exist because of the presence or absence of armed power and implicit threat. You are not speaking out of line, but I will advise you now; we fight within a grander series of interconnected causalities and phenomena where the fate of a single world echoes far beyond its atmosphere. Your reservations are dangerous moreso to yourself than anyone else and I will only ask that you guard them closely from what is to come."
He walked to the door and motioned for the rest to follow.
"Take Kleo to the medical bay, then follow the navigational marker on your personal device across the connector-bridge to ship we've docked to. We have a rather unpleasant group of people to attend to."
The medical bay of the vessel was best described as oddly green, soothing even. From a first glance it resembled some sort of mossy chamber where the expected curtained partitions and blocky medical equipment stood. The more traditional elements of a hospital room felt incongruous amongst the fresh smell of a rain-soaked forest and the crab-like drones that walked across the ceiling, each of them moving about various tubes, casts, and monitors with long spider-leg claws ending in many fingered appendages, gingerly ensuing the comfort of all visitors.
A semi-spherical rock-like thing floated towards them. It was a gealtirocht, craggier upon closer inspection almost as if a series of cubes crushed into the imitation of a spherical shape, multiple complex cybernetics jutting out of its body and no doubt keeping track of the silhouetted figures behind the biofilm curtains. Arms like cranes emerged from its body as its ball joints whirled and it seized a variety of tools from various night-tables. One of the crab machines pulled back the curtains and a bed, just a normal mattress, was revealed.
It motioned to the voidhanger to puts its human compatriot there before it would get to work with the rest, silent and its various jutting camera-ports on its "face" visibly focused all throughout the room.
The docking-bridge was the last of the vessel they would see before they stepped into something more conventional. Sleek corridors of a grayish and light reddihs tint, jutting supports that arched from the ground to brace against the walls, and personnel all in a variety of reinforced silk-weave naval officer gear walking about. They were not in a living beast but a mechanical equivalent to one and based on the Invictoid's rapid gait, in a hurry as well. The doors were not some sort of elytra that retracted as if trying to conceal themselves when they neared; instead they split apart like blades being sheathed.
Past one more set of these sharp and imposing if starkly professional and proper doors and they found themselves within a wider space; multiple computer stations along its side, multiple large projector modules rising from the floor to waist level, and high ranking uniformed personnel dour and stringent in dress and expression calling out orders when not marching past. Three-dimensional images of worlds distant and near, camera feeds of goggle-eyed armored helmets speaking with mission control operatives, handheld devices flicking in the laps of headset wearing personnel as information updated in live time - before the Invictoid sped up in long strides up a set of stairs towards a large blade-door. Fast enough their compatriots were nearly left behind.
The door opened and the connecting room's purple hues and faint lighting emerging from the glowing doors on all four of its sides did not prepare them for the fury that greeted them.
"YOU! Just the treacherous swine I wanted to see!" A voice wet with phlegm and bile shouted out, a finger jabbed accusatorily into thet orso of the Invictoid. "The stunt you ordered back on Prosperity should have you stripped of your rank and sent before a tribunal! Don't think that show of force you had hiding at the artillery platform, just waiting for your pawns to leave, means anything to me!"
It was a human who spoke, tall but not towering, gruff and white haired which his commander's hat did not wholly hide, and of which the medals that adorned his uniform seemed to take on an almost sickly glow with the light around them. Two massive vrexul soldiers, each one bulkier than Echo and their rifles thicker and denser than any of the other bodies in the Envenomed squad, stood at off to the side impassive but watching the Invictoid's retinue closely with swivelling, stalked eyes and ocular domes.
"We should not even be in conflict! The outcome even the Dominion reformists agreed on was-"
The air around the Invictoid flared as light itself diminshed and recovered around them but the human flinched not an inch. If anything he grew angrier at this display of whatever ethereal power the Invictoid contained, the white-red glow of its cybernetic eyes failing to make him even squint.
"I seem to remember, no we seem to remember that there was meant to be a vrexul support squad to assist us in the taking of the artillery platform. A team that had been prepared for weeks in advance, that from what I had learned, had been moved out an hour ahead of time to greet my assets. What a shame their position was revealed so quickly; the show of force I had cover the exilfration will not be pleased to learn they now have to deal with that as well."
The Invictoid had gestured back to the rest of the Envnomed with a wave of its hand, its voice oddly calmed. If previously it was akin to a series of people speaking entirely in synch now its tone of voice was dense but almost relaed... smug even, but steeled by a resolve every bit as unbending as its torso's armor.
The human seethed through his teeth, glancing towards them from the corner of his eyes before turning back to the machine-biped.
"Tit for that is beneath a hero of your stature, so is the poor instruction towards the branches we operate in conjunction with! I cannot account for all of your personal inconveniences, especially not when I have to live-feed intelligence to a multi-hegemon rebel army! It is uncharacteristic to suddenly make a fuss about the loss of a handful when you may have handed the world to the worst kind of revisionist scum."
A sound like a snort emerged from the skeletal giant; unfiltered of cybenetic enhancement, biological in nature.
"And how out-of-the-blue it is for you to have suddenly acquired such fervor for the grip of ideology's blade. You are an adaptable man, General Trelevoss, but I believe it is best if you air your complaints to the ixaxxar node, not a mere upstart like myself."
The human's anger did not subside but he soon turned to the Envenomed.
"If you all have the slightest ounce of sense, know that you are just as disposable to him as the vrexul squad splattered and rotting back on Prosperity. You've every right to be upset, but it will mean nothing if you do not realize what this fool has gotten you into."
Without a word, he stomped past them all, the vrexul following suite somehow quieter in their lumbering footsteps but no colder as they brushed and pushed the rest of the squad out of their way. The door sliced shut behind them.
"That was the easy part. The next is easier." The Invictoid lead them through another room, this one quieter and even more poorly lit but eyes that had adapted to the dark noticed flurries of movement. Flickering streams of hundreds of swarming pieces and forms, all small by themselves but flowing like rivers across the ceilings and walls. Faintly lit computer screens watched by figures of concealed features beneath blocky visor-like headsets and wire-ridden full body cybernetics, others vaguely scielto in nature hovering or rather suspended above the ground on floating platforms of holograph screens.
All of which seeemed to centre around a strange mass receiving the flow of strange particles. It was a roughly spherical thing at least when its form did not fluctuate like television static. It was at least 10 feet in diameter, not of singular components but a swirling madness of arthropod limbs and shells linked with splintering fragments of cybernetics, behind which fluctuations of pinkish-red ethereal power swirled and morphed into an almost organic and fleshy redness. The lunacy of its surrealist appearance was contrasted with the near silence of its operation, at most making at best a rustle amidst the ambient throb and hub of the chamber.
The invictoid stood before it and then turned to the Envenomed squad.
"Echo, turn on a camera feed. I will link it to Kleo's handheld device. The ixaxxar node will be taking over. We'll be getting information on our next mission soon."
As he stepped off to the side, the light that seemed to try and escape the pseudo-spheroid's body congealed into a shape almost akin to an eye. An eye whose gaze was so dreadful in its power it did not feel as if it looked at any one of them as much as through them; not at personhood and individuality but some realm of unknowable possibility and knowledge.
The voice that emerged did not radiate outwards from a central source. It started off quiet but amplified in volume never an unpleasant level as if the very words took time to travel towards them, almost bassy as if from underwater, but with a clarity edited to remove any unneeded distortion or ambiguity.
"Envenomed Squad - designation to be determined - mission completed under subpar conditions - assessment of initial performance is as effective. Mission ready; deployment to be determined. A question awaits before selection."
Light flowed from beneath the blinking gaps in its swarming body, forming a three-dimensional holographic image before them of a familiar face they had met during the mission. It was the messenger in the village, the one who had left soon after they had filled them in on their mission.
"This figure asked of you to destroy League artillery cannon or capture it? Were they accompanied? They had something with them and another accompanying them. Materials confidential in nature; there were supposed to be two. Recount any relevant information from when you encountered them."
Within separated rib like construction of the wall lights flashed just brightly enough for their eyes to spot their flicker, a linear pattern trailing down the hallway, past a windowed room, towards a series of automated doors visible to their honed sight. The little trilobite-esque creates flittering within their elongated crevices flashed their lights as if directing a plane to land.
Behind those doors the Invictoid's digital systems flicked through the channels on the television; flashes of jarring and increasingly alien text, channels intended for those whose perception of the world was of a more amorphous and ambiguous nature, before a different broadcast was settled on. A symbol covered the screen for a moment. It was a coiling creature of centipede appearance... no, not one but two emerging raised heads and triumphant in posture from a tripartite skull of curving ridges and upwards gazing eyes - impaled from all their would-be flat sides by long lances, some of which resembled insectoid limbs and others tribal weaponry.
It vanished not even leaving an afterimage. In its place was the familiar sight of the Rhodes Valley not as a distant rolling tapestry of a besieged but relentless armored advance but the beings who had stormed its length and driven out the foreign occupation. It was not a pleasant scene; the camera flickered on occasion, blurred artifacts clinging to the screen before it was wiped down in a wave of gentle light-teal light. The channel was no doubt one associated with the central Intransigence planets if that was all was needed to counteract the backwas of ethereal radiation interfering with electronics.
It could not however hold back the strange mixture of jubilation and anger that shoved, howled, celebrated amongst, and clung to the deceased. The armor of those they had seen scurrying and sprinting amidst blasts of cannon fire and machine gun spray now with rifles clacking against the biometallic armor plating and laden bandoliers, hanging limply on their shoulder straps. There was skin visible; human in its many colours or motttled-rotted green-brown-yellow amongst them - the great numbers of tarrhaidim present brilled with explosive emotion no different from human counterparts.
There was no real conversation towards the camera-holder; some of what was uttered were the mumbles of the mourning through the tears that poured from eyes adapted to see further and more precisely than a human normally might. One human desperately pulling out another mottle-camo patterned body, furiously shaking it by the shoulders, their tongue some bizarre mish-mash of adapted local tarrhaidim and English - "Not your time to rot. Not your time to rot. Not your time to rot." The specifics were difficult to make out, some local mantra, but the words became indistinct. The sorrow verbalized as hands placed themselves onto the now unrecognizable remains, extracting keepsakes and supplies alike of a fallen friend, clashed against the resonant howls and uproarious celebration the camera swung to next.
Upon the shattered body of some of the huge walkers, with the faint blue glow of where the stadium-esque League command center once stood in the background. The air blurred and the space around it undulated and twisted, sickly pinkish colours bruising into the strains of realspace sitll recovering from the Envenomed's horrific artillery strike. It was as if a fire burned there not with flame but colours that warped in and out of the visible spectrum, bending the image which they could see. Tattered walls and smoking gun emplacements stretched and blurred as if some gelatinous, invisible substance was being pulled and compacted around them yet one that took on strange and foul colours as it did so.
It was not an unearthly bonfire that the soldiers, rifles grabbed around their receivers and held high as if offerings, were celebrating. The camera closed in, shaking as a civilian figure - tall, gealtirocht clad in white-purple ballistic padding around its broad torso, striding with ease over the debris unlike the camera operator - walked onto the field. They were not alone; craggy skinned celaderaka, a tarrhaidim clad in overlapping robes fluttering as it walked with ceremonial moon-shaped medals pinned to the ballistic armor-implants beneath, and a berreted human whose darkened skin bore a series of bruises next areas of strangely lighter colouration, all raising their hands and welcoming the cheer.
The gealtirocht turned, cranial-mounted microphone letting them gesture and point as the audio mix momentarily diminished the sound of whatever meeting or reunion was occurring.
"Live here from the scene of the recent Rhodes Valley Offensive, where all constituent members of the Zanovia Reclamation Front participated. As you can see, the price paid is steep and the wounds on the people and the land will remain long after even the colonial occupation departs."
The digitigrade alien's actual tongue seemed far harsher than the english of the subtitles, live-translated with some sort of specialized digital intelligence program, popping up at the bottom of the screen. Its features were anguillid, predatory even with its semi-elongated head and the visible slightly curving knife-teeth it spoke through, but the rush of emotion on its features were kept barely in check. Something between a proud grin and a heavy emotional weight played across its features.
"Front infantry, many of which are veterans of multi-continential conflicts dating back to before the forceful renaming to New Prospery, even before Sazan's rise to planetary leadership of the umbrella organization, were deployed en masse. As one can see-
The camera swept this time to behind where they were all situated - far, far behind the mountain that the squad had been battling upon during their short stay on the planet. If the destroyed CivSec command centre looked like an invisible jellyfish wearing reality's skin ready to burst from expanding pressure, then the expansive of anomalous swollen wounds in the fabric of space was a whole field of pulsing wounds in the visible spectrum of realspace itself each one still seeping a sickly purplish-pink gaseous light.
"A massive level of void-artillery was used to try and stall the advance but soldiers report that the weapon later on ceased its firing, before firing again, destroying the main stronghold in the area and a mobile command centre, then a nearby bunker."
The alien paused for a moment, exchanging unclear words with a pair of soldiers, one whose fungoid skull was reduced to a lower jawbone at most and the two human troopers underneath both of its arms, hauling the hole-marked torso gurgle-intoning some sort of distorted prayer. Two optical-tendrils with bulbous ends peered at the camera before their comrades, grinning ear to ear looked away from the reporter to say some sort of half-blurred ring of expletives - something to the effect of bleeding the colonizers dry and mailing their distant League backers the fear-induced excrement of the nation sector's governor as a parting gift, to be mailed courtesy of a Sazan Kal-Hayalat .
The gealtirocht turned to the camera, their words momentarily muted by a roar of jeers and howls of violent support. Bodies laid upon stretches coughed and hacked, raising fists or clanging knives against armor plating. A joyous cacophony, one that even the anguilid xeno could not help but curl its lips into a smile with, revealing rows of teeth that began to curve backwards - it looked not hungry but smug in its satisfaction with the enthusiasm.
Slowly the energy died down.
"In more pressing news, a recent prisoner exchange was completed as part of the ongoing negotiations wherein the foreign-backed settler government was forced in exchange for the eldest son of a noble scielto househood, release a number of major leaders of the ZRF coalition - as you can see-"
He gestured off to the trio from earlier, now appearing to hold a small conference of their own. A private military channel with the crews operating the various forms of recording equipment all in much of the same motley uniforms and aggressively dated armor patterning. One did not need to hear or understand a word of what was spoken in order to see the vigor and hopefulness in them; the way their hands rose as if commanding not an army but an orchestra, the assembled soldiers behind them grinning through their battle scars, some of the wounded ones even hoisted up by allies, made it appear to be the least professional confefence possible.
"With the unfortunate loss of Sazan, means that negotiations are still ongoing with the remaining leadership, many of which are of ex-Dominion origin as well as trained by Intransigent forces. Face-saving measures including talks of a 'transitional government' have gone well in the hours leading up to the makeshift battlefield conference, with similar talks happening elsewhere on the world. For once, the native inhabitants have the position of power not only over the tables of diplomacy rooms but the very soil of they and their predecessors. I believe it is fair to say that-"
The screen flicked off and the skeletal machine turned back to the squad they controlled.
"Now, who among you would have preferred the bloodshed to continue? Purely on my own terms, I would not have minded - strategic possibilities were endless. These are not however, my people or my planet. Did you know that it was not even Sazan's? You do not need to read intercepted coms and intelligence to know that he was not even a native of Zanovia. Why, there was a televisted broadcast a day or so ago while you were on the way to be dployed; a vrexul veteran mentioned his work writing speeches for Yrrkradian leaders, went so far as to say that tarrhaidim was not our friend. Truthfully, he was not wrong about him."
Its movements were sudden. Machines were not of flesh, blood and skin, and its steps were strides that brought it before Alice. There was no shadow to loom over her, only byzantine details of advanced cybernetics to stare back.
"Sazan was useful but not a believer in revolution; neither are the others who back the Front. He knew warmaking but his desire to prolonging the conflict for a distant total victory would mean drawing in the League and the Dominion alike as things further escalated. An expansion of the conflict and the diminishing of Intransigent allies there; cruel as what we did was, crueller still would have been the cost of throwing our prayers to wind. A transitional government may not sound glamorous, but I would prefer the transfer of power into the hands of the liberated masses. It also gives us time to sort out issues with the Dominion-backed elements in the Front and less trouble transitioning into popular governance; we are completing our goals with a lesser body count."
One of the Invictoid's hands raised, a single digit pointing at her between her eyes.
"Know this; the very nature of what you are here for crosses more lines of interstellar relations than you can even begin to fathom. You are not fighting a war of right and wrong; right and wrong exist, but they only exist because of the presence or absence of armed power and implicit threat. You are not speaking out of line, but I will advise you now; we fight within a grander series of interconnected causalities and phenomena where the fate of a single world echoes far beyond its atmosphere. Your reservations are dangerous moreso to yourself than anyone else and I will only ask that you guard them closely from what is to come."
He walked to the door and motioned for the rest to follow.
"Take Kleo to the medical bay, then follow the navigational marker on your personal device across the connector-bridge to ship we've docked to. We have a rather unpleasant group of people to attend to."
The medical bay of the vessel was best described as oddly green, soothing even. From a first glance it resembled some sort of mossy chamber where the expected curtained partitions and blocky medical equipment stood. The more traditional elements of a hospital room felt incongruous amongst the fresh smell of a rain-soaked forest and the crab-like drones that walked across the ceiling, each of them moving about various tubes, casts, and monitors with long spider-leg claws ending in many fingered appendages, gingerly ensuing the comfort of all visitors.
A semi-spherical rock-like thing floated towards them. It was a gealtirocht, craggier upon closer inspection almost as if a series of cubes crushed into the imitation of a spherical shape, multiple complex cybernetics jutting out of its body and no doubt keeping track of the silhouetted figures behind the biofilm curtains. Arms like cranes emerged from its body as its ball joints whirled and it seized a variety of tools from various night-tables. One of the crab machines pulled back the curtains and a bed, just a normal mattress, was revealed.
It motioned to the voidhanger to puts its human compatriot there before it would get to work with the rest, silent and its various jutting camera-ports on its "face" visibly focused all throughout the room.
The docking-bridge was the last of the vessel they would see before they stepped into something more conventional. Sleek corridors of a grayish and light reddihs tint, jutting supports that arched from the ground to brace against the walls, and personnel all in a variety of reinforced silk-weave naval officer gear walking about. They were not in a living beast but a mechanical equivalent to one and based on the Invictoid's rapid gait, in a hurry as well. The doors were not some sort of elytra that retracted as if trying to conceal themselves when they neared; instead they split apart like blades being sheathed.
Past one more set of these sharp and imposing if starkly professional and proper doors and they found themselves within a wider space; multiple computer stations along its side, multiple large projector modules rising from the floor to waist level, and high ranking uniformed personnel dour and stringent in dress and expression calling out orders when not marching past. Three-dimensional images of worlds distant and near, camera feeds of goggle-eyed armored helmets speaking with mission control operatives, handheld devices flicking in the laps of headset wearing personnel as information updated in live time - before the Invictoid sped up in long strides up a set of stairs towards a large blade-door. Fast enough their compatriots were nearly left behind.
The door opened and the connecting room's purple hues and faint lighting emerging from the glowing doors on all four of its sides did not prepare them for the fury that greeted them.
"YOU! Just the treacherous swine I wanted to see!" A voice wet with phlegm and bile shouted out, a finger jabbed accusatorily into thet orso of the Invictoid. "The stunt you ordered back on Prosperity should have you stripped of your rank and sent before a tribunal! Don't think that show of force you had hiding at the artillery platform, just waiting for your pawns to leave, means anything to me!"
It was a human who spoke, tall but not towering, gruff and white haired which his commander's hat did not wholly hide, and of which the medals that adorned his uniform seemed to take on an almost sickly glow with the light around them. Two massive vrexul soldiers, each one bulkier than Echo and their rifles thicker and denser than any of the other bodies in the Envenomed squad, stood at off to the side impassive but watching the Invictoid's retinue closely with swivelling, stalked eyes and ocular domes.
"We should not even be in conflict! The outcome even the Dominion reformists agreed on was-"
The air around the Invictoid flared as light itself diminshed and recovered around them but the human flinched not an inch. If anything he grew angrier at this display of whatever ethereal power the Invictoid contained, the white-red glow of its cybernetic eyes failing to make him even squint.
"I seem to remember, no we seem to remember that there was meant to be a vrexul support squad to assist us in the taking of the artillery platform. A team that had been prepared for weeks in advance, that from what I had learned, had been moved out an hour ahead of time to greet my assets. What a shame their position was revealed so quickly; the show of force I had cover the exilfration will not be pleased to learn they now have to deal with that as well."
The Invictoid had gestured back to the rest of the Envnomed with a wave of its hand, its voice oddly calmed. If previously it was akin to a series of people speaking entirely in synch now its tone of voice was dense but almost relaed... smug even, but steeled by a resolve every bit as unbending as its torso's armor.
The human seethed through his teeth, glancing towards them from the corner of his eyes before turning back to the machine-biped.
"Tit for that is beneath a hero of your stature, so is the poor instruction towards the branches we operate in conjunction with! I cannot account for all of your personal inconveniences, especially not when I have to live-feed intelligence to a multi-hegemon rebel army! It is uncharacteristic to suddenly make a fuss about the loss of a handful when you may have handed the world to the worst kind of revisionist scum."
A sound like a snort emerged from the skeletal giant; unfiltered of cybenetic enhancement, biological in nature.
"And how out-of-the-blue it is for you to have suddenly acquired such fervor for the grip of ideology's blade. You are an adaptable man, General Trelevoss, but I believe it is best if you air your complaints to the ixaxxar node, not a mere upstart like myself."
The human's anger did not subside but he soon turned to the Envenomed.
"If you all have the slightest ounce of sense, know that you are just as disposable to him as the vrexul squad splattered and rotting back on Prosperity. You've every right to be upset, but it will mean nothing if you do not realize what this fool has gotten you into."
Without a word, he stomped past them all, the vrexul following suite somehow quieter in their lumbering footsteps but no colder as they brushed and pushed the rest of the squad out of their way. The door sliced shut behind them.
"That was the easy part. The next is easier." The Invictoid lead them through another room, this one quieter and even more poorly lit but eyes that had adapted to the dark noticed flurries of movement. Flickering streams of hundreds of swarming pieces and forms, all small by themselves but flowing like rivers across the ceilings and walls. Faintly lit computer screens watched by figures of concealed features beneath blocky visor-like headsets and wire-ridden full body cybernetics, others vaguely scielto in nature hovering or rather suspended above the ground on floating platforms of holograph screens.
All of which seeemed to centre around a strange mass receiving the flow of strange particles. It was a roughly spherical thing at least when its form did not fluctuate like television static. It was at least 10 feet in diameter, not of singular components but a swirling madness of arthropod limbs and shells linked with splintering fragments of cybernetics, behind which fluctuations of pinkish-red ethereal power swirled and morphed into an almost organic and fleshy redness. The lunacy of its surrealist appearance was contrasted with the near silence of its operation, at most making at best a rustle amidst the ambient throb and hub of the chamber.
The invictoid stood before it and then turned to the Envenomed squad.
"Echo, turn on a camera feed. I will link it to Kleo's handheld device. The ixaxxar node will be taking over. We'll be getting information on our next mission soon."
As he stepped off to the side, the light that seemed to try and escape the pseudo-spheroid's body congealed into a shape almost akin to an eye. An eye whose gaze was so dreadful in its power it did not feel as if it looked at any one of them as much as through them; not at personhood and individuality but some realm of unknowable possibility and knowledge.
The voice that emerged did not radiate outwards from a central source. It started off quiet but amplified in volume never an unpleasant level as if the very words took time to travel towards them, almost bassy as if from underwater, but with a clarity edited to remove any unneeded distortion or ambiguity.
"Envenomed Squad - designation to be determined - mission completed under subpar conditions - assessment of initial performance is as effective. Mission ready; deployment to be determined. A question awaits before selection."
Light flowed from beneath the blinking gaps in its swarming body, forming a three-dimensional holographic image before them of a familiar face they had met during the mission. It was the messenger in the village, the one who had left soon after they had filled them in on their mission.
"This figure asked of you to destroy League artillery cannon or capture it? Were they accompanied? They had something with them and another accompanying them. Materials confidential in nature; there were supposed to be two. Recount any relevant information from when you encountered them."
