The loss against the
Gorean should be enough
to convince the High Council
that it is sheer
madness to attack the
Amsus, especially when
such attacks leave our
capital worlds vulnerable.
We must concentrate our
forces, fortify our lines,
and take the time to
rebuild.
Gorean Flagship - High Orbit - Karin - Karin System - Imperial Territory
~~*~~
Walker felt as if he were entering the dragon's den, he'd spent much of his time after the occupation surveying the damage to his world, the desolation the Gorean war machine had caused. He had seen first hand the great processing camps where his people had been branded as cattle to feed the ravenous horde. Experiencing their suffering, and sharing in their pain as they struggled to rebuild yet again for a hundred year promise of peace, followed by the darker promise that the Gorean would return.
He hadn't bothered with the House great coat; such symbols were wasted on the Gorean. Instead he'd chosen to wear the woollen sweater one of his people had knitted for him while they sought shelter in the reactor bunkers beneath the palace. Let the Gorean know that, despite their best efforts, they hadn't won on Karin.
Sal-zÿr's command ship sat in orbit over the lost frozen world, as if ready to wait every moment of the one hundred years until the world belonged again to its master. And Walker passed great windows that looked down on his planet, realizing how much he loved his world, his people. Feeling the pride of everything they had survived, everything they had accomplished. A lost colony of pirates and bandits rising to challenge the greatest empires of the day, and somehow managing to remain free. That was the Karin legacy, freedom.
Brigadier Mayfair had insisted in coming with him, taking a break from re-organizing the Karin defences and training his new brigade of Dragoons. The Brigadier looking uneasily beyond the ring of fusiliers that escorted them through the snarling ranks of blue lesser Goreans, bristling with snapping jaws and hissing tongues, each eager to again taste Karin flesh.
With the Gorean refusal to see Chancellor Evans, Walker had no choice but to come personally, he knew it. And the negotiation had been tight just to secure permission to come aboard the flagship of the Gorean Armada. The arduous task of trying to fulfil Prince Edward's wishes and convince the Gorean to assist the liberation of Earth, that was still to come.
The room they were shown into opened out onto a circular platform above a massive tank of water, curving arches supported the great chamber recessed with stained glass that was back lit with an incandescence that shed patterns of light across the clear blue waters.
The fusiliers hung back beside the doors as Walker and Mayfair advanced along the jetty, taking their places on the platform looking down at the gigantic form sitting just beneath the surface of the water being tended to by aquatic creatures that flitted about cleaning the cobalt blue scales the way Remora fish did on Earth.
Around the great chamber, on balconies and catwalks, Lessar Gorean stood sentinel, watching the humans have their audience with the great lord. Sal-zÿr's honour guard wearing armour crafted from the High Gorean's cast off scales, talismans and runes dangling from leather thongs warding against danger and evil.
"I am Archduke Walker von Karin," Walker stated looking down at the pool of water.
"The Great Lord knows," A female voice hissed from deep in the chamber, as a female Gorean wearing light cotton robes over her feathers was suddenly lit by a spotlight. "You seek to make an addendum to the Hundred Year Treaty, negotiated by the God Emperor of Man and the Great Warlord Sal-zÿr of the water clan."
"That is correct," Walker said placing his hands behind his back, and suddenly regretting not wearing the great coat, maybe the symbolism wouldn't have been wasted after all.
"The Great Lord's answer is no," the woman stated. "You may now leave…"
"He hasn't even heard what we have to say…" Walker began.
"He doesn't have to," the woman countered. "You have nothing of value to offer the Gorean Imperium that we don't already possess. We stand to gain nothing by assisting your invasion of your homeworld."
"You stand to gain our gratitude…" Walker began.
"Gratitude for enslaving your world? For eating your people?" The woman shook her beaked head. "Human gratitude is a strange thing indeed, and is hardly valuable. You have nothing, Archduke, and so you will return to your world with nothing."
Walker shrugged, turning away. "I knew this was a mistake," he murmured as their brief audience came to an end. The fusiliers escorting him back to his shuttle.
Imperial T-557 Gunship - Seralus System - Disputed Territory
~~*~~
Alessandro sat quietly staring at the Morning Star who sat across from him in the cramped aft section of the ship. The small vessel was entering the outer edges of the Seralus system at Fëdor's bequest. The ancient, skeletal man seeming to enjoy his excursion away from Keppe, taking the time to refine his work with a laser scalpel he kept spinning through his fingers everytime the fancy struck him to 'tweak' his master piece.
"Yeh feel the power beneath that shell?" Fëdor inquired. "My apprentice." He savoured the title, his tongue darting across his dried lips as he considered Alessandro again.
Alessandro remained quiet, a black look in his eyes as he drew distant. Pensive and contemplative of all he had given up to serve his God. Fëdor's lecherous leering didn't faze him, he was beyond it, in the safest recess of his mind, still clinging to that little part of him that was still human, despite the alien body and foreign features that was now his face.
His chest was thicker, shoulders broader and waist still trim. Leaner, more muscular he felt stronger, his eyes were tracking everything around him, sensing and feeling as much as seeing.
His dark hair hung down tickling his eyes, the fine Italian features having an almost Latin look about them. He wore a Saint's face, and he wondered at the heresy of it.
"Yes," Fëdor mused fishing a teabag from a cup of hot water, smiling to himself as he supped it. "Yeh are ready for this test, I think. How well did they train yeh in that Kardiac army camp I wonder… Do you know of the Tancred?"
"They are native to the Apilon Rift," Alessandro said. "Former Pirates brought into the Empire as a servitor race…"
"Indeed," Fëdor said. "Large, green and mean. Perfect for yeh to wet your appetite upon. The word we are nearing is overrun by them and you will find I will test you upon them. Show them no mercy, as they will show you none. Reach the Hive Capital, and you will have earned your title as a Templar… but be warned, apprentice, this is a world riddled with ancient darkness…" He smiled, "at one time the Qalabarim tested their own warriors upon it as I will now test you. Anything they can do, you can."
Jungle - Seralus System - Disputed Territory
~~*~~
For Alessandro the right of passage was upon him, acceptance into the Templars. Only the initiation rites remained to be completed, only then would he be deemed worthy. He had a strange desire to compete and to win, an alien desire to excel at the course life had thrust him upon. In three hundred years there hadn't been another Templar, he was it, the first, an Ophanim.
Alessandro was a proud headstrong young warrior from the world of Tempus. All he had to do now was survive for one week alone on a death world while Fëdor waited in orbit. Similar initiation rites had been carried out throughout the Empire prior to the fall. It was the way of the Templar. Only the best would ever be accepted from the vast ranks of recruits that made the Empire their home.
The Imperial T-557 Gunship touched down in a forest clearing. It had travelled for hours looking for a spot to drop the hopeful apprentice, Fëdor selecting with great care a most ancient spot as remote as he could. Only once Alessandro had reached the City of Kullkera would he be able to rest and relax and wait for Fëdor and the Gunship to come and collect him. If he didn't make the two hundred mile journey, he would be left behind, considered lost to the vast and deadly jungles of the death world Seralas.
Alessandro watched with a hint of fear as the Imperial T-557 departed, he was alone now in the jungle with only a compass and map to guide him the two hundred miles to Kullkera. It seemed an almost impossible task, but others had obviously made the journey, otherwise there would be have been no Templar. The going would be undoubtedly tough, of that he had no doubt. He checked his PKD and two foot long Machete, more for reassurance than anything. They would be his only friends in the harsh terrain through which he had to travel. He fitted his backpack in place, what little he had was stored in the pack, such as a weeks rations, although if he wanted meat he would have to catch it himself. He had enough water for a week, but it didn't really take into account the stiflingly hot temperatures of the jungle, again he would have to find any extra he might need. Medical supplies were essential, especially the anti toxin syringes that he carried. The jungles were notorious for their poisonous flora and fauna, not to mention the beasts that roamed the dark underbrush.
Within minutes he was ready to leave, he glanced at the compass knowing he must head North West to reach the City of Kullkera. It was the only human inhabited place on the entire world, only the mountainous Terrain provided enough relief from the jungles to build anything of any size. There had been other settlements, but they had a habit of being swallowed by the jungle, once clear areas overgrowing within a matter of weeks or months as the relentless expansion of the deadly jungles continued. Seralas was renowned for its indigenous populations, the beasts that roamed the jungles were awesome predators, and only the most highly trained warriors ventured beyond the city, only those foolish enough to think they could master this deadly world. There were others too, wealthy merchants and aliens who came to Seralas looking for a safari through the wild lands, hoping to hunt down a predator of considerable worth to display for all to see.
As for Alessandro, he would have been happy to settle for getting through the jungle in one piece and hopefully not getting lost and left behind. He would travel by day and make his camp in the trees at night, tying himself to a branch to escape the vicious predators that would likely be crawling throughout the jungle during the twilight hours.
It was early morning, half-past seven according to his timepiece. He knew from looking through the files on the planet that sunset in the summer months was not until eleven o'clock. That gave him fifteen and half hours to travel the thirty miles a day that he needed to cover. As far as predators were concerned, he knew he had to avoid them wherever possible, not least because it would waste valuable time. He figured at two miles an hour he could rest for perhaps twenty minutes an hour and still make good time, only swift travel would get him through this nightmare and to his destination in one piece.
With knife in hand he began moving into the jungle, cutting a vicious swathe through the undergrowth and quickly dismembering any feelers that tried to grab him. He had to remember that a death world was virtually alive; the wilderness was a living organism that took no prisoners, only if he treated it with the respect that it deserved would he manage to complete his initiation.
The jungle was alive with the sights and sounds of the wilderness. Everywhere he looked creatures crawled, slithered, swung and ran. Some were to be feared, of that he was certain, he was new to the jungles, and an unknown prey. Within moments of leaving the clearing he had already counted over twenty different kinds of beasts. Most were too preoccupied to bother about him; they too were pray for something else, as was the way of all things.
If he had the time to prepare and studied hard, the flowers, plants and trees alone would have taken him over six months to research. He had thought becoming a Templar would be one long battle quest. He had been surprised by the other things he was required to learn. The Templar were fanatically devout followers of the Immortal Emperor, Fëdor had explained that while not as rigid as the make up of most of the Tempus units of the Empire, the Templar retained a deep devotion to their lord that when tested found them to be among the Emperors most deadly servants.
Alessandro had vowed to himself that he would join their ranks as a chosen one, an Ophanim Warrior, the first one in three hundred years. Of course he was being hopeful. First he had to make a journey that most humans would find impossible not to mention deadly.
Jungle - Seralus System - Disputed Territory
~~*~~
Alessandro had heard the tales about Seralas. But he had never suspected they were still true till that day. He recognized the beast before him, it had been one of the first lessons he had learned, the races of the Empire. He was certain that he was gazing upon the dismembered corpse of a Tancred, long time enemies of the Kardiacs. If it hadn't been almost cleaved in two by what looked like the wounds one would receive from a bladed weapon, then Alessandro would have had to kill it himself.
The City had been founded only a hundred and fifty years earlier. They maintained a planetary defence force of some half a million troops and an Imperial Guard garrison of a further one hundred thousand. For the fifty million inhabitants of the industrial city it would mean a bitter struggle. He stopped himself from thinking further. There could be any number of reasons for the Tancred's presence, and he did not have time to dwell on all the possibilities.
Alessandro debated the wisdom of taking the Tancred's weaponry. But time was of the essence and the lighter his load the faster he would travel. He decided against it, leaving the blood covered weapons where they lay on the ground. He had been concentrating so much on the matter at hand that he had not heard the approaching footsteps, his usually keen senses only picking up the cacophony of sound that came from the jungles inhabitants.
Suddenly at the last moment he turned, almost like a sixth sense had told him he was in mortal danger. His reflexes were razor sharp as the sword wielding Tancred charged at him, waving the blade above his head, the beast's intention was to decapitate the human meal it had stumbled upon. Alessandro dived clear of the deadly weapon, rolling onto his feet and readying his weapon. The beast was massive, its rough green skin was dark and leathery, its frame massive and imposing.
"Do you see it?" Fëdor's voice cackled in his ear. "The abominations… those that refused to serve. Do you see the face of the enemy?"
Alessandro couldn't help but notice the shear size of the beast. Its arms were thicker than his waist. The tusk like fangs jutted from its lower jaws, it bared a row of razor edge teeth as it saw Alessandro look in fascination upon the creature. The beast was pure savagery, it wielded weapons of technology, but at heart the Tancred race was a barbaric and savagely violent culture that destroyed everything in its path with little thought for those they prayed upon. He had to wonder in that moment what could be worse than this abomination that charged towards him.
Worse yet, there were others behind him, dozens, the shouts of rage rang throughout the jungle as what seemed like an army descended upon him. Alessandro sprang to his feet, he hesitated only for a second and then turned and ran, faster than he had ever run before. The shouts from behind him grew louder and more numerous, he had to wonder at just what he had stumbled upon. Perhaps they were an entire warband, or an army come to wage war against the City or their old enemies.
Jungle - Seralus System - Disputed Territory
~~*~~
Wild firing Tancreds shot their bolters in a barrage of fire that only sought to anger Warlord Zug-Zug.
They had ruined his kill, the loathsome, useless, mewling scum. He'd deal with them later. He had a Human to catch.
Jungle - Seralus System - Disputed Territory
~~*~~
For his size he was fast, but Alessandro was far swifter. He traced his steps back hoping to reach the clearing for some unknown reason, surely he didn't hope to stop and take stock of the situation. All he could think was I'm running in the wrong direction and how many Tancreds were between him and Kullkera. To be slaughtered by this vermin was not something he had anticipated when he began his initiation.
He seemed to be putting some distance between him and the Tancreds, but the sight that met his eyes once he was close to the clearing made his heart sink with terror. Literally hundred of Tancreds seemed to be searching the area. A thought struck him, perhaps they had seen the Imperial T-557 landing and had come to investigate. He turned to change direction but quickly realized he was trapped, they were all around him now. Before he could react Zug-Zug had felled him with a savage blow that knocked out two teeth and sent him sprawling onto the ground unconscious.
Jungle - Seralus System - Disputed Territory
~~*~~
The shouts and cries of victory made Zug-Zug sick to his stomach. These damn inbred fools needed combat, a real war if they were ever going to remove the shame of losing the war against the foul Gorean. But then that was why they had returned, his clan would have their war of that he had no doubt, but were these pathetic weakling humans up to the task of providing enough entertainment. The one at his feet had gone down like a snotling slave. He licked his lips in anticipation, the thought of bringing destruction to the humans was something he could grind his fists into, something he could hammer, decapitate and destroy. Zug-Zug felt a sense of relief, no Gorean anywhere, but a whole human city to pillage, plunder and destroy, he was really only happy when there was carnage to be had.
Tancred Camp - Seralus System - Disputed Territory
~~*~~
Alessandro awoke to the sound of chanting Tancreds. He had been tied by his hands wrists and ankles to a tree overlooking what appeared to be a crude arena. The pit was surrounded by sharpened spikes, both on the outside pointing outwards and on the inside pointing inwards. It was obvious to Alessandro that whatever this Tancred rabble intended for him, if he where to be dropped into the pit, there was little hope of him getting out. Although he couldn't make out quite what they were saying, he could tell that every damn Tancred present seemed to want the bloody honour of ripping him limb from limb in the arena. This wasn't exactly how he had planned on beginning his initiation. There was only one thing for it, he had to try and escape. If he lived long enough and as soon as the opportunity presented itself. It looked as if he was going to have to fight for his life.
Two Tancreds strode forward, almost throwing themselves at the ladders that would allow them to untie Alessandro's bindings. Moments later he dropped the ten foot to the floor, his arms and legs aching from the strain of holding his body in place on the tree. He landed on his feet, ready to face his tormentors. His presence was close to starting a riot before Zug-Zug stepped forward and demanded silence from the crowd. He gestured to the two Tancreds to take the prisoner to the arena. Again Alessandro felt himself falling as the Tancreds took an arm each and dragged him to the side of the pit arena and launched him downwards. Alessandro rolled and found his feet ready to attack anything that came through the wooden gate.
The Tancred leader, Zug-Zug took Alessandro's Machete and threw it down into the pit. Having no other recourse Alessandro scooped it up, weighing the blade in his hand and exercising his grip on the handle.
"Good," Fëdor's voice came again. "Be ready to taste blood, to fight. Templar's fight, they don't run, they don't hide…"
Alessandro watched as a machete wielding Tancred ran through the now opened gate before him.
He sidestepped the viscous swing and slashed out digging deep into the arm which held the Tancred's weapon. The blade cut through muscle and tendons, sending a shower of blood spurting across the arena. The enraged Tancred turned its head as it howled in pain. Alessandro stepped quickly forward and slashed the blade across the Tancred's throat and quickly stepped back out of range of the Tancreds wild swing with his fist. Alessandro rolled forward grabbing the creatures dropped machete and scooped it up, turned and waited for the oncoming charging Tancred who was now bleeding from his throat and arm.
The chant from around the pit came from hundreds of Tancreds as they wagered on the winner, some were already howling in fury that it looked like the Human was going to win the contest. At least this one, there would be many takers for the next round of combat.
"Good, good," encouraged Fëdor. "Can you feel the Ophanim blood in your veins? Can you feel the pulse of life around you? Use it…"
The Tancred barrelled forward, hoping his size and speed would ram his target and knock him off balance. Alessandro prepared to meet the charge, the Tancred stopped almost dead as Alessandro swung the machete embedding it in the side of the Tancred's neck. He plunged the blade into the other side, pulling on both weapons as the Tancred looked on bewildered and screaming in agony from the wounds that had been inflicted upon him.
The weapons met in the middle of the Tancred's throat, blood poured from the wound, as the Tancred's almost severed head seemed to take on a life of its own, trying to stay in place as Alessandro pulled his weapons free. He brought up his leg and kicked out sending the Tancred sprawling backwards and trying desperately to stem the flow of blood while at the same time grabbing his jaw and trying to keep his head from moving around. Alessandro wondered at the resilience of these beasts. If a human had suffered such a wound he would have died almost instantly. Perhaps even a lesser Gorean wouldn't have been able to take such a serious loss of blood, not to mention the massive gash to his neck and throat.
"Finish him!" demanded Fëdor.
Before Alessandro could even react, the wooden gate opened once more. He wasn't even going to get a chance to rest. The Tancred was a head taller than the first, the shear size of the beast almost stopped Alessandro dead. It carried an axe in each hand and looked capable of swinging them simultaneously.
Alessandro had to wonder at his likelihood of survival even beyond this opponent.
The Tancred charged forward, knocking aside the first Tancred who slumped to his knees almost dead. Alessandro was surprised at the speed of this beast. It moved like a man half its size. Both axes fell almost together, both aimed for Alessandro's head. The young Templar initiate moved just in time to dodge the wicked blades, he rolled forward and lashed back with the machete aiming at the Tancreds ankles. The Tancred sidestepped the swipe and lifted his axes once more.
Rolling onto his feet Alessandro remaining crouched as the Tancred charged forward again. The blades came down again as Alessandro rolled to his side and slashed out with his Machete, this time the blade cut deep into the Tancred's calf, but did little to stop the juggernaut from regaining his momentum.
"Fight!" Fëdor demanded furiously.
The wound only seemed to make the Tancred more determined, but unlike the careless rage of the first Tancred, this one was cold and calculating, seeming to prepare himself for likely counter attacks. The chants from around the arena seemed to favour the Tancred this time, there seemed to be little encouragement for the soon to be slaughtered human. The Tancred came forward once more, slashing with one axe and then bringing his hand back up to catch Alessandro on the chin. Alessandro staggered momentarily, the massive blow sending his head spinning as he dived backwards and out of the way of the second axe. He jumped to his feet dazed.
The Tancred seemed to give an evil grin, if they were capable of such things. Alessandro charged forward, stepping to the side at the last moment and bringing the blade up under the Tancred's jaw and ramming it upwards and into the Tancred's brain.
The beast staggered for a moment, unsure of what had just happened, its arms slumped to its side, dropping both axes into the dirt. Alessandro wasted little time in getting around the back of the Tancred and bringing the machete down on the back of its neck several times until he had hacked through the thick knotted muscle. Alessandro drew the Machete out and thrust it through the Tancred's right ear. At this, the beast fell to the floor dead, much to the annoyance of most of the crowd, but by the sound of it some of the beasts had made a killing betting on Alessandro.
"Good!" Fëdor crowed triumphantly. "Kill them all…"
The next three opponents died in much the same manner until the crowd was jeering in fury as Alessandro saluted them, both weapons held high in a mocking gesture that sent the Tancreds into a wild frenzy.
He panted, bloody. After his transformation under Fëdor's scalpel his body seemed to get muscle definition, not really getting bigger muscles par se, but they were standing out more. The sheen of sweat had completely soaked his grimy vest, sweat dripping from his hair in the heat of the jungle canopy.
The roar overhead deafened the crowd, as the Tancreds cast their heads up and screamed in fury at the Imperial T-557 that was swinging about over the arena, its Gatling guns cycling up as they began to hammer the crowd with concentrated gunfire.
Dropping, exhaustedly to his knees, Alessandro stared at his ship as it swept low on its VTOL drives, the side doors sliding open, beckoning him inside.
"Are yeh going to stay here boy?" Fëdor demanded. "Or are you going to accept a lift when you need it?"
"The initiation?" Alessandro yelled above the din of the engines.
"Yeh pass," Fëdor snipped testily. "Though your friends on Earth seem to need you, someone called James in a right tiss-was is screamin' fer yer help or sommat."