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Price of Enlightenment
A spore fan fiction

Chapter 1: glories rewards
The world exploded.
The fireball reached out across the void, catching other worlds in its fiery embrace. The system burned, rocks the size of planetoids spiralled into the suns gravity and caused it to go nova. The surviving ships scattered into the void, their moral as broken as their faith and their world.
And with that, the war had ended.

Fleet commander Drake eyed his work with pride. With one final decisive blow he had restored peace, saved his allies and proved that his people could stand against any foe.
'Savour the moment' he told the bridge crew, his voice a harsh rasp passing through scaled lips.
The Bridge staff settled once more into their seats. After 30 years hard campaigning, they could finally rest. The Flitt, the Uxerbel and the Marthians could rebuild at last. The spirits of the Reptilius would be silenced.
Drake turned his bullet head to face the comms man.
'Contact the captains and pass them my thanks, with this they can return to their homes'.
The officer returned to his station and began signalling the fleet, his hands passing through the projections of each ship in turn as the channels were opened.
'Damage report?'.
'Within safety limits commander,' came the reply from the decks newest crew member 'we have two breaches on the left wing, areas locked down. Auxiliary engine has been vented and is inoperable'.
Seether had been awarded the position of chief engineer by dint of her seniority seeing as her predecessor had died during the conflict.
'Receiving acknowledgements from the fleet. The Harrier and the Plow both give their complements and commendations'.
Drake contained his ire at the thought. That blasted Flitt was always sending his complements. After each skirmish and raid the emotionless pest sought to follow procedure and diplomatic etiquette.
The Plow had been a necessary annoyance though. The Flitt had a long standing enmity with the Duckulon and their pilots were trained from birth in how to bring down Duckulon ships. They were short four limbed creatures with green and purple coats, resembling most primates, but their bodies were heavily remade to best suit their tasks and their ships echoed it. Plow had been renamed by the rest of the fleet for convenience seeing as its original designation was P10WAR.
Harrier though was a different story, between his ship and Harrier their was a much stronger tie.
The tie of blood. The Draconians had been more than willing to aid him since before the Falcen had been blooded. They were the children of the Dracus, their chosen successors should their race fall.
Maris, captain of the Harrier, had sworn an oath to follow the Falcen through fire and damnation.
'Send them both my thanks and close the link, we have other tasks ahead of us'.

The Falcen turned gracefully, its damaged wing no more of a hindrance than a cut in the arm.
The ship was shaped more like a stylised U than a bird of prey, wings swept forward and beneath the main command deck and were stylised with the ancient flowing script of its past, these contained the quarters for the ships staff numbering no more than 10. The deck was comprised of three tiers, sinking further back into the ship as they ascended, with a diamond and quartz view port covering them like a giant shield. Set further back, atop the highest point of the ship was the gun deck, in the shape of a raised dome, with the twin cannons mounted to either side.
Beneath the ship were two thin, auxiliary engines, based on liquid fuel propellent. While the main engines were set to the very rear of the ship, like two glowing furnaces, leaving trails of molten plasma in their wake.
And as these flared, the Falcen began the long journey home, the journey to Terra where glory awaited.

'I'm what?!' the exclamation echoed throughout the citadel.
'Dismissed, Disgraced, Cast out. Say it how you will "commander" the allies and myself hold you to account for the atrocities committed in the war'. The Dictator's thinning face pulled taut against his bones as it formed into a visage of pure malevolence.
'Your instructions were to protect our borders, to maintain diplomatic ties and expand our influence in this galaxy. Instead you attacked ships belonging to one of our oldest allies and led a zealous crusade against their worlds, the culmination of which was to break one of the few rules the galaxy can agree on and destroy an entire solar system. Count yourself lucky I haven't had your heart ripped from your chest and fed to the Raptus'.
'I did what I had to do!' the words escaping Drake's lips in a warning hiss. His anger was rising, the hunger building.
'I removed a species which was threatening 3 of our allies and had already eradicated one of its own. How long until they turned on us in the name of Spode?'.
The Dictator's guards raised their scourges and glowered at him menacingly as they awaited the command to drag him from the chamber.
'Watch your tongue fledgling, else I have it removed. You have been courting disaster since you first took that ship from the furnaces. When word of our so called successor species reached me ears I was tempted to dismiss you then,' a pained look entered the old revenant's eyes and his tattered wings sagged to the floor, was that remorse? Or was he simple done with this argument?
'Using empire funds to terraform a planet, and then wasting it all by populating it with a group of primitives you found lurking in a cave out there'.
'The Draconians are a sister species, they share the same ancestors. Some say they may even be our ancestors! Would you have had me leave them to die out? Because of my actions they now control an empire which venerates us, which would do anything to help us'.
'This isn't up for debate, you are a servant of the empire and your blood is mine to command. You are to be stripped of your rank and that is all. I leave you your ship and I'm signing you over to Arise, they need patrols and you will do. You captured the wretched place after all'.
And with that, he was dismissed, never to see Terra again, at least for now.



Chapter 2: Redeeming blood

Arise spun lazily in its orbit, its blue seas glittering in counterpoint to the violet earth.
The southern mountains bearded the world with their frosted peaks.
Upon its soil, creatures whooped and gibbered as the dawn sun made its slow progress across the lilac sky.
And as it touched the curtain wall of the planets sole colony, the roar of engines filled the air.

The freighter touched down in the same manner that a rock falls to the earth, only with less force.
Its bulky form moved artlessly, as if its ovoid body had been held in the air by nothing more than force of will.
The jet upon its stubby wings fell silent as four stout legs took its weight.
Karthis glared impatiently at the airlock, willing the slow umbilical chute to finally dock. His veridian wings aching to stretch themselves outside of the cramped, confining shuttle.
As the hatch opened, his face split into a predatory grin, his tusks sliding from beneath his upper lip.
Gargoyles were rare creatures, keeping to their own systems for the most part. But when they were seen they were rarely welcomed. They held to their strict doctrine, a society devoted to gain, their only sin was lose, their only crime was failure to enrich themselves.
As Karthis's black, empty eyes travelled down the span of the docking chute, they took in the veined polystone walls and appreciated their value at the same time that his dark mind began to plan for what was to come. He had chosen well.

Drake crouched in readiness, his blade extended to the right of his body, his repulser held in a low guard.
His opponent could wait no longer, he raised his guard, lowered his face to the floor and charged.
How could such a puny thing hope to stand in his way, waving bits of shiny metal in his face.
The Warrior leapt upwards, its wrist spikes glistening with the remains of its last kill. As its cloven feet descended, a thought penetrated the red veil of its mind, the Dracus hadn't moved.
And with that, Drake exploded into motion, his powerful legs propelling him backwards into the air like pistons, as the huge form of the Warrior crashed down in the space where he had been standing. As it bellowed its rage, its bladed wrists lashed the air in frustration.
The creature was truly massive, its elongated bulk sectioned between the chitin encrusted torso and the muscle surrounding the legs and tail.
But as it tried in vain to reach its target, Drake spread his left wing and pivoted in the air, bringing his right arm flashing round, the ebon blade extended to its full length.
As Drake's feet touched the earth once more, the warriors headless body collapsed to the floor, thick vermilion blood burst forth to carpet the stones of the square.
The overlapping sections of the blade gently slipped back into place, returning the sword to its original length, little over a foot.
He sighed, stalked over to his fallen prey and began the litany of purification.
'In blood we are born, through our blood do we live, with our life blood we may sin, with our death blood we are made pure, so the sin of your death is past to me, and you are pure once more.' he dipped his fingers in his foes blood, and placed in under his tongue.
And with that, he lifted the head and returned to his post.

As the light of the sun reached its peak, Drake was at last relieved from his post. His mind was set on one thing as he carried the drying remains of his trophy.
But before he could sink deep into his padded nest, he had a final task to fulfil.
Eventually his padded feet carried him to the hub of the colony, the main dock.
The dock jointly served as the last stop on a rarely used shipping route, and as the control centre for the planet.
The building was a conglomeration of styles from many previous owners.
The earliest known colonists were Flitt and their tall white buildings still dotted its edges, but the followers of Spode had claimed the world from them and given it its name as a symbol for the Duckulon campaign and their squat, chapel like dwellings clung to the Flitt spires like leaches.
It had been the first world to fall into his hands, and had been the crucible which brought forth his fleet.
And now the dwellings of his people sat in a ring around the older structures, their low to the ground shape and their dark Terran colours making them appear like pointed mounds of earth. Up close they resembled a nomadic encampment as if they would be gone on the morrow.
Drake entered the tall spire and presented the remains of his prey.

Karthis's mind worked at a fevered pace as he finalised his plans.
His would be benefactors would have their due but it would be he who profited, he'd seen to that.
The local docking controller had questioned him ruthlessly as if desperate to find a means to dispose of him.
But what could he do? Karthis had been coming to this world for years, spice runs were not common and the planet would have suffered greatly if he hadn't helped arrange matters.
The loss of a steady inflow of credits would be a necessary evil, but a greater return of investment was promised with the culmination of his plans.
He turned away from the view port of his apartments and let it fall on his retinue. There were 5 of them in all, two of them, Skaarg and Igtho, were fellow Gargoyles and had been bound to him ever since he'd indebted them on their home world. Skaarg's runty hands clasped a carry case, Karthis new that Skaarg could not be trusted with a weapon but he was still needed.
Igtho was tall for one of their ilk, with broad shoulders and an over muscled jawbone. In his vice like grip, he help a scourge, its long tails embedded with conductive fibres and its handle emitted a soft hum as its charge was maintained.
Igtho was expendable although the lose from him would take some time to be recovered.
Two of his retinue were little more than mercenaries, hired with promises of lucrative spice running contracts, they wouldn't survive, one of them was short and seemed comprised entirely of feathers, its delicate hands twitched in anticipation and its green eyes darting too each of its fellows.
The other was a lithe reptilian creature with a whipcord thin body, its long arms bending twice before ending in a pair of taloned hands.
Its head turned lazily to regard him and its long tail curled around its waist to rest on the handle of a compact pistol.
The final member of his entourage kept silent vigil at the back of the spartan quarters. Karthis new what it was and the thought of its presence was nearly enough for him to abandon his goals.
As far as any could tell, the figure was little more than a small Flitt like creature, its body was slightly wider and its fur was differently coloured, beyond that they could hardly notice anything.
It was there to oversee the plan, Karthis just hoped he could escape it before the end.

Balefire lamps illuminated Drakes abode as he entered even though the burning light of day penetrated the space, the artificial leather flap falling back into place. Inside, the space was divided by simple hangings which split the room into three. He headed straight into the smallest chamber, parting the hangings and stepping inside the musty space.
Once more the Balefire lamps flickered into life as they sensed his presence, their red tinged light painted the room with the colours of blood as he slipped out of his armour and returned it to its resting place. The pauldrens were set on their tanned hide mats, the armlets were split and sat by their side.
The curving greeves were sat on a stand along with the protective shell which formerly encased the top of his feet.
Lastly, his sword was returned to its noose, hanging above the arrayed armour like the beak of a predatory bird.
With that Drake padded across to the largest chamber, extinguished the lamps even as they began to flair, and collapsed into his welcoming nest of hide and furs the suns rays casting his recumbent form in a golden light. Sleep finally overcame him and his labouring heart began to beat in time to the rhythm of his breathing.
He stood proud aboard the Falcen once more, his fingers clasped the command console as he directed the fleet once more. There were ships in the sky before him, and he would see them burn.

The plan was moving to pace. Karthis's force had yet to team any resistance, although that would soon be solved.
Skaarg reached for the door before them and began his work. Even as the other members of the group took up positions, the doors defence systems flickered and died. Yes Karthis had chosen his tools well, he mused as the portal slip open.
The group proceeded down a sloping corridor which led them deeper and higher into the central spire. As they neared the end, Skaarg froze and slipped to the right of the passage, flicking open a panel concealed in the glowing white metal.
Shortly afterwards, they all heard the sound of dying power-cells as hidden defence mechanisms fell silent, how Skaarg had known of their existence was a mystery to Karthis but he knew that as long as their was a challenge ahead, he could count on the runt to do his work.
At last the infiltrators reached their main objective, the heart of the dock was still of Flitt design, and its white walls pulsed with green luminescence, in the centre of the chamber stood a large cylinder, connected by hundreds of cables to the room around it.
Before Skaarg could even move, Karthis cut him off and headed deep into the chamber, his clawed feet causing a clatter across the smooth floor.
As he reached the cylinder, gears whirred and the blank facing slid into a hidden groove in the floor revealing its contents.
A Flitt was suspended within a cocoon of wire and plastic, its withered frame beat with the pounding of its heart and the pulsing of the rooms light.
'Skaarg, disconnect direct controls and reroute them through our console,' even as he spoke, the runt had ripped upon the carry case and pulled forth the bulky unit, sliding its grey form across the floor. He began examining the controller of the dock and then, with great care and delicacy, began to the cut cables.
At once, the room flared with red light and a high pitched squealing filled the air. The sound filled his head, it bit at his mind and tore at his thoughts. But even as his mouth began to let loose its own keening note, a discordant cry cut the air and the room fell into silence once more.
The Overseer lowered an upraised arm, and gave Karthis a look of pure malevolence.
'we had believed you capable enough,' the Overseer's voice grated forth like the hiss of a machine 'your task is nearing completion and if it is not carried out too satisfaction then matters will be resolved differently'.
Karthis rounded an Skaarg and struck him, he had endangered the plan and so had brought things forward.
'Back to your task,' he spat as his words became hampered by his elongating tusks.
The small Gargoyle picked himself up and returned to the console, attaching the severed cables quickly and efficiently even as he cursed his master 'The task is done, all primary systems are under our control'.
'You two,' he pointed at the mercenaries 'guard that entrance and await our return'.
He signalled to Igtho even as he grabbed Skaarg by the wing and pulled him towards a second hatch opposite the first.
Even as he left, he could feel the cold, metallic glare of the Overseer.

Fire erupted around him, harsh red light filled the command deck and keening sirens sounded from deep in the guts of his ship. The enemy ship had blind-sided them, running cold so as to rid its presence. But now its signal glared balefully on the sensors.
A heavy fighter, its bulky form filled the view screen. It swung ponderously, turning to bring its cannons to bare once more. As he shouted out his commands, the flare of energy illuminated his mind, and he awoke to find it filling the sky.
Drake rose swiftly from his nest, and stared up at the roof. The normally clear sky was dark with night, but even as he watched it was set alight by a powerful burst of vermilion light, he glimpsed the shape of a ship, a ship he'd wished never to encounter again.
A crack like that of thunder filled the air and then the world erupted. As Drake staggered at the sudden wave of force his feet were already finding their way to the arming chamber. No time for the armour, he grabber his sword swiftly, even as the keen edge sliced his palm. Strapping it to his side, he turned and opened a small box, hidden in the shadow of the wall. The floor tremored as he reached inside and drew forth a sleek, black pistol, its barrel ridged as if with teeth, its handle inlaid with scripture. It felt light in his grasp as he remembered the day he was given it.
Lhunara had once told him the guns history and he had known then that it was not for his usage, it had remained in its case, in the shadows, never to see the light. But now it was time to put it to use, as fire licked the edges of his abode, his blade shot out and cut him a way into the burning light.
With the sword in his right hand and the gun clasped across his heart, he strode out to redeem himself in the blood of the fallen.


Chapter 3: Vengeful memories

'This is your legacy'.
His sword slicked forth, bringing peace to another.
'your people raised mine, what you gave us cannot be forgiven'.
He raised the tip to his lips and drank of its sins.
'the knowledge of war, the power of battle'.
He strode between the burning buildings who mirrored his heart, burning with grief.
'we learnt your customs, your society and then we learned your war'.
A mewling reached his ears, another lay dying in the wreckage a child whose chest was crushed near flat, once more he took in their sins.
'and war destroyed knowledge'.
And with their sins, he took in their vengeance. Drakes eyes affixed themselves upon the docks lit by warning lights and filled with the screaming of klaxons, and his wings took flight.

Karthis turned, the fur on the back of his neck standing on end as his mind contemplated failure.
Skaarg panted further down the corridor, unable to keep up with his owners pace. As he looked up, he saw a look of panic cross Karthis's face and wasn't sure whether to take heart from it or turn and flee.
As Karthis reached the final end of the steadily descending corridor, his hands played nervously along the gleaming white walls. As Skaarg drew level, he was already readying his tools to begin work on the door. What could be so precious that they were forced to linger here in a burning city?
He unsealed the door and stepped aside as his master rushed past. The chamber beyond had been remodelled extensively, the sparse furnishings of the Flitt had been stripped out and replaced by the previous conquerors. Now the room resembled little less than a vaulted chapel which had been forced into a smaller space. Devotional hangings crowded the walls, overlapping at the edges. Gold stands had been pressed close together at the edges of the room, where relics or icons to Spode had once stood. At the apex of the room, sat a control alter, its circuitry concealed within a stone block etched with freezes of godly deeds.
Skaarg jumped with fright as the looming shape of Igtho entered behind him, the brute barely sparing a glance at the rooms contents before he turned back to the door, his barbed scourge dripping blood from an unfortunate guard.
Karthis was already beside the alter, opening panels and glaring hatefully at what they revealed.
'Make it work' he hissed at Skaarg, his tusks lengthening and receding with each breath.
Scuttling over, he peered into the archaic technology and began his work.
'Soon', Karthis whispered, his plan was nearing completion.
A rumbling bark filtered back to them from the door, Igtho had spotted a new playmate.

He analysed the site before him, his mind cross referenced the input with his memory recall.
The component suspended before him showed signs of upgrading, previous organic components had been replaced with crude efficiency.
As he finished his analysis, a logical course of action occurred to him.
Watched over by the two expendable components behind him, he began dismantling the controller.

'Do you remember how you enlightened us?' Lhunara's mellifluous tones drifted through his head, the air was fragrant and laden with the scent of Juni trees.
'Of course, How could I forget?' his rasping tones sounded distant, his head swam as if intoxicated. 'we landed a monolith, a stone implanted with all the knowledge of our kind'.
'And did you not see where that might lead?' her voice changed, the lyrical quality fading to replace one of anguish.
His mind began to contract as if in a vice, a smell of burning filled his nostrils 'What do you mean? Anything else would not have withstood the years'.
'The monolith contained EVERY piece of your culture, your history and your technology. It taut us how to build, how to survive, how to advance. But it also taut us how to fight, it didn't teach us why'.
The scene began to shift, images of another place fought for dominance over the souring memories of Lhunara. Her face began to slip away, the soft blue of her scales becoming a harsh brown, the green in her eyes fading to red. 'War destroyed knowledge' came the her iron toned voice.
And the world returned. Stones lay beneath him, their surface rough and gritty. What had moments ago been the face of the Captain of the Harrier, became the twisted remains of a fallen statue, its face coated in rust and its surface beginning to run with heat.
As Drake lifted himself from the ground, his battered mind struggled to understand what had happened. Mere moments ago he had been flying to the docks, the only place where this nightmare could have stemmed. And as his target neared, he had seen the ship ounce more.
The vessel's sides were of gunmetal grey, bereft of ornamentation. Its proportions were immense. A central shaft ran its entire length, two bulges on either side gave way to devastating lance batteries. Its tail was a curved construction, like that of a monstrous fish. The underside was riddled with drop ports, who vented their wrathful contents on the streets beneath them.
A leviathan such of this could only have one master, the name of whom was not so much a whispered legend in the stars, but a shared nightmare.
Grox.
That was when the batteries had filled the world with vengeful light.
Drake forced himself onward, claws unsteady on the baking stone. The blast had passed 50 yards from him, yet the concussive force had been enough to send him tumbling through the sky. His wings were nothing more than ragged bundles of pain, the bones shattered from impact.
The black pistol was still strapped to his side, the hunger within it gnawed at his conciousness. His sword had been lost, he felt its end keenly.
Blood filled his mouth, and not only his own. He remembered all those he had drank of, their hatred still burned in him, and he had to fulfil it.
He gazed ahead of him and saw that the looming shape of the docks. He would sate their hunger soon.

Karthis's mind raced. How long? How long since they had left the controller? How long would it take to access the information? How long until he could be rid of this world?
The incessant questions echoed, unanswered, within his head. Broken only by the joyful sound of Igtho's work.
Igtho was half way down the corridor, his green fur painted a deep crimson by the blood of the dead and the dying, whose broken bodies lined his passage.
The panicked defenders had rallied well though. A small detachment had entered through a side route, concealed in the gleaming white walls, now splashed with ichor.
Igtho had overcome his shock at their sudden appearance with uncanny speed, his scourge blazing to life in mere seconds after their entrance. The coils had snaked out across the corridor and lashed the first attacker with charged barbs, leaving deep channels through the leathery hide.
Skaarg let loose a sudden exclamation as light burst forth from the surface of the alter. A grainy image formed I the air, little more than a coloured imprint. Karthis smashed the smaller Gargoyle to the ground in his haste.
He pressed his hands against the alter, and studied what he saw there.
'religious texts, mumbled nonsense,' his hands clenched shut and he pummelled a fist into the lectern.
At once the image jumped, reforming itself into a string of numbers. The digits flared and died only to be replaced with another image. It resolved itself into the form of another planet.
'Skaarg, get off the floor and get this down now, I want full in detail copies before they manage to get past Igtho'.
Even as the runtish Gargoyle began connecting a hand held device, the image began to focus in. until it showed nothing more than a single point, no more than a mile in total scale. It always pays to have a second contract, mused Karthis as he turned his back on the projection.

Subject contained little in terms of usable data. Upgrades were rudimentary. Subject expired after 4.6 cycles of analysis. Conclusions drawn, subjects purpose was to monitor information and control processes within docking facility. Subject species of little reasonable use, removal of unsuccessful component required for new development.
The Grox lowered the last bloody remnants of the controller, whose remains where scattered across the room.
The lights were beginning to dim, the pale luminescence from the walls becoming little more than a gritty yellow.
The two mercenaries had reacted poorly to the display, the small feathered one had fled as soon as the overseer began his work. It had fled down the corridor, screeching in dismay.
The other had blanched at the site but turned its smooth head back to the door in an attempt to ignore the overseer.
Thus it was that it avoided its death. The bullet which was destined for its skull passing a mere fraction from its features before embedding itself in the remains of the controllers support chamber. A group of 6 Dracus had entered through a side shoot, 3 bearing activated repulser shields who crouched low so as to provide a moving wall of cover.
The rear rank boasted arm mounted rifles, their connicle shapes extending past the wrist and ending in a 6 inch barrel. The gunners opened fire again, this time firing a volley in unison, their bone helmets appearing daemonic in the strobbing muzzle flashes.
Throwing himself to one side, the serpentine mercenary flicked its compact pistol into its hand without a second thought. The smooth grip fitting snugly as it checked the clip. Seems that it was going to have to earn its pay after all.

Blood coursed freely from his tattered wings. Pain flared throughout his battered body.
But still Drake forced himself through the portal to the docks.
The dying light illuminated the chaos before him. A group of enforcers were trying to restore order, forcing various citizens to stay calm. Passengers had flung themselves at the shaky enforcers and their remains littered the ground. Survivors were pressed against the walls, panic written across their faces.
Head swung to face him, several recoiled at the site. His broken form resembling little more than one of the dead outside, lit by the fires of the dying city. Gun in hand, he forced himself across the room, his claws causing a rhythmic clatter in the tense air.
An officer tried to bar his way, only to learn the folly of his actions. Drake lowered his fist as the stunned Dracus hit the ground. But he had no time to spare and words were things of a different time. He raised his head so the guards could see who he was.
Now they parted before him and his hazed brain registered that he had past beyond the entrance room and down the gloom filled passages.
As he moved, time stretched for an eternity, and memories peopled the darkness.
Many were those he never wished to see again, a dying crewman reached for him with bloodless fingers.
An enemy soldier burned soundlessly in the void, his mouth condemning Drake.
The Dictator stripping him of his command, the weathered face grinning wickedly.
And then their was her, Lhunara fell into step at his side. Her own form was pristine, her wings unfurled and stretched, their azure colours rippling insubstantially.
As her elongated head turned to face him, and her vivid green eyes fixed themselves on his own, steely, pupils, the loss finally struck him and he staggered under the blow of it.
'Are the sins too great for you?' her lyrical notes filtered into his mind and once more he was back among the scent of the Juni trees.
Her gaze fell to the pistol in his hand and her mouth formed a bitter smile. 'It is best that a gun such as that should avenge them'.
'I remember what you said of it, you said it was the death of knowledge,' his words were dying in his throat, choking on the smoke and dirt from before, but she seemed to understand.
'When we used your war, we turned on ourselves. We slaughtered our own people in an attempt to gain dominance'.
Much was done which cannot be undone, we paid no heed to the devastation we wrought. During one fateful battle, a shell smashed into the great monolith, your monolith. The black metal shattered, carrying with it the hopes of our people. And from that we forced ourselves to forget warfare, and as a symbol, we used the remains of knowledge to create a single weapon to show what happened when war was waged'.
A ghostly talon stroked across the ridged barrel and her gaze locked on his once more.
'Use it and you will symbolise what it did'.
And with that she was gone.
He emerged into yet another corridor, ahead of him came the sounds of battle. A group of guards were firing shots down its length.
As he watched, a darting shape appeared around the edge of a door and let loose a hail of shots. The gun emitted little more than a pulse of blue light and a sound akin to a hum.
Even as the rounds hit the mobile wall of repulsers, the shape disappeared from site.
2 shots smashed into a shield, causing the energy field to stutter, the lapse allowed a third to burst through, the pale blur entering the guards body with a shriek of ionised air. The body toppled to the floor, a gaping hole blasted through its chest where the mass reactive shell had struck.
The rest of the formation faltered and Drake knew that it would break under such an assault. He pushed his ragged body into motion and dived into the ranks, grabbing the fallen guards repulser and forcing it around his forearm.
Lifting the shimmering barrier to chest hight, he lowered his head and charged for the doorway.
A shot impacted on his shield, the force slowing his pace, another smashed into the wall to his right even as the third ripped into the ground at his feet causing shards to dig into his skin and add more blood to his image.
A three round clip then, how long does it take to reload?
As he neared the doorway, the figure loomed once more, raising its weapon only to find that it was too late.
Drakes arm shot out, the repulser smashing into his foeman's neck. As the snake like thing staggered, he swept his arm round again, knocking it to the floor. He raised the gun, and fired.
A dark splinter, no more than 2 inches in length, spat forth from the barrel, his arm jerked back as if struck by a great serpent. A keening hiss escaped the weapon as the rapidly cooling remains of its victim skidded back across the floor.
He turned quickly as he heard a deep throbbing from across the room. No sooner had he looked than a bolt of red light was reaching for him. He raised the shield and the blast tore it from his arm. The energy coruscated across the repulsers surface before shattering it in a burst of power.
Across the room from him, the overseer lowered its arm and stepped towards him.
The Grox was bathed in the yellowish light of the walls, as Drake looked, he saw the remains scattered across the floor.
The controller hadn't been more than a canvas of skin stretched across hollowed bones, now he didn't even resemble the wraith like creature he had once been.
A pile of bones had been stacked to one side, organic organs oozing to their left. Skin had been split and discarded, lying in ragged lumps by the wall, green fluids spilled across the floor and mingled with machine oil from an array of neatly laid out augmetics.
The cold, mechanical dissection of another sentient creature chilled Drakes heart and threatened to drown his rage in fear.
'Why? Why do you do this to us?' his voice stuttered forth, filling the air with trembling notes.
The Grox seemed to think on this question, its empty face turning to one side as a quiet clicking emitted from its personage.
'Your design is substandard, you are unfit to be continued'.
As it raised its arm to strike, the sound of metal sheaved feet met their ears.
The guards had rallied well, as they broke through the threshold they sank back into a defensive position, shields before rifles, the squad leader rattled off orders.
The Overseer turned to analyse them, and received a bullet for his troubles.
The force had opened fire, three shots had crashed into the Grox's small frame, two smashing into its torso with metallic thunks, the third smashing into the red orb of its augment eye, shattering the plastic casing and penetrating deep into the cranial cavity.
A grinding sound filled the air and the Grox began to tremble erratically, sparks began to cascade from the gaping hole. It turned to face Drake once more, its working eye fixing him with a burning glare, and then there was a crackling static sound as the room filled with a vermilion light which lashed the room, and then it was gone, leaving little more than a darkened patch on the artificial floor.
The squad began lowering their weaponry, but even as they did so, Drake was heading for the other passageway. The sounds of dying could be heard, and they were close.

Triumph, at last they had achieved their goal. Karthis grasped the storage unit in a lunatic grip.
Now all that remained was to escape with it. Skaarg was hurriedly packing his tools, thrusting them back into the carry case.
Igtho sat morosely, his scourge at his side as the blood evaporated from it in a pink haze. The last of his opponents lay steaming, a ragged gash ripped deep into his chest and exposed his lungs. Wings lay crumpled beneath the dying form, snapped in half where Igtho had grown bored.
As his master began to head for the doorway, he spotted something which made his heart jump. Fresh prey was running towards him, it may have been near death, but it wasn't dead yet.
He leapt to his feet and gripped his scourge tightly.
But even as he anticipated his next move, the figure razed a pistol in its right hand and fired.
A black splinter struck Igtho in the gut with all the force of a lightning bolt, sending him reeling into a back wall, blood coursed down his abdomen from what looked no more than a small incision. A burning filled his guts and bile leapt in his throat at the pain. Still, he regained his footing and charged out into the passage as the figure took aim again. His scourge leapt across the space between them in a hungry arc.
But the prey ducked, letting the barbed tail flash by overhead, Igtho pulled back in an attempt to recast his weapon, but this time the foe gripped the tail in his left hand, barely uttering a cry at the electrified cable.
Drake pulled hard on the scourge, the rage building to an undeniable crescendo within his skull as the pain fuelled the need for vengeance. His foe staggered at the unexpected move and Drake leapt, the scourge still clasped in his hand, locked in a rictus of agony. As he reached the monstrous Gargoyle, he spun on the spot, his clawed foot smashing into the seeping wound in its gut as his tail impacted on its side.
As it staggered, he slipped the scourge around its neck, and pulled. The cable biting deep into the throat causing spasming gasps to erupt from its throat as its wind pipe clenched convulsively.
Coming round behind it, he placed the dread pistol to its skull and let it feast.
The splinter cracked the foe's head like overripe fruit, bursting forth from its forehead as the neck ligaments tore and the vertebrae separated. A brackish spray of fluids coated Drake as he forced his hand to let go of his foes weapon. As he turned back to the room, a shot buried itself in his shoulder, a solid slug round which ground against his abused bones.
Karthis was panicking, this wasn't meant to happen, how had it got past the others?
His hand bucked as he let loose another shot, the vengeful Wight before him could not survive a bullet through the skull he was certain.
Drake turned to the panicking Gargoyle, its green fur was standing on end, its brow dripping with sweat.
In its left hand it clutched a hastily assembled firearm, in the right a small data container.
Its second shot went wide, splintering a bust to some Duckulon prophet.
Before Karthis could fire again, the bleeding, burnt and broken form of Drake crashed into him, the black pistol in its hand all but forgotten in the mad rage which burnt in its steely eyes.
His tusks fully extended, trying to gouge his opponents face, but the Dracus twisted, its long reptilian jaws opened and its scaled lips peeled back, revealing rows of blood coated teeth.
Drake bit deep into the Gargoyles hide at the joint between shoulder and neck, the creature thrashing and screeching in panic. The flesh was putrid in his throat, as if his mind recoiled from the atrocities it had committed to further itself.
He raised his mouth again and struck a second time, his dagger like teeth sinking into its throat and ripping a jagged gash which tore the major blood vessels wide open. Forcing his mouth to remain shot, he ripped his head back, snapping the Gargoyles neck and revealing the spine.
Vengeance done, he forced himself to his feet, spat out the bloody mass of flesh and cartilage. His left arm was limp at his side, his wings were broken and ragged, he was coated in blood, scales twisted by burns and wounds. As he looked around the room, taking in the temple like structure, he spotted the quivering, green form of another gargoyle. Staggering over, he returned his pistol to its strap and closed a hand around the back of the things neck, eliciting a squeal of panic from the runt. Its terror causing it to loose control of its bodily functions as its black eyes skittered across Drakes long face.
'Don't kill me, I didn't do anything, I swear it,' Skaarg's features bleached as his eyes fell on the remains of Karthis, a gaping hole where his neck had once been.
'And what did you do?' the madmen's voice was little more than a guttering rumble, but the menace within it was plain.
'I, I, I opened the dddoors, I'm an engin eer I swear,' his voice broke off into pitiful racking sobs.
Drakes anger flared at the display but his mind worked feverishly, there was still a Grox ship laying waste to the colony, and he intended to make sure it paid the price.
'Can you fix a ship?'
the glimmer of hope filled Skaarg's eyes 'yes yes, fix it up could, then we could escape, before the whole city burns'.
'No, we wont escape,' he shook the small Gargoyle 'We fight'.
The Falcen awaited.