A cluster of explosive bomblets rippled across the outer hull of Dalyth Station, sweeping across the communications grid in a bubbling wave of fire. The base of a sensor array, over one hundred meters tall, rocked under a heavy concentration of fire from a warship orbiting low around the Kryth Mahr outpost. A second salvo from the bank of particle cannons aboard the warship sheared through the thick array supports, with grim efficiency. The array no longer anchored to the stations massive framework keeled over from the bombardment towards the hull of the outpost.
The doomed structure impacted, breaking into four sections. The largest, the bottom third of the array wrenched its way against the hull, crushing a large section of the station underneath. The explosion it caused was more destructive than the initial bombardment.
Lintorth Sol stood calmly with his feet planted wide on the causeway, as the whole section of Dalyth station shuddered underneath another barrage of energy weapons.
His hulking body, a half-meter taller than anyone nearby, obstructed the path of a dozen panicked people rushing across the narrow walkway, directly towards him. Those in back pushed eyes wide with fear, urging more speed from those in front. The jumbled mass of flailing arms and legs threatened to trample anything or anyone in its path to safety.
Lintorth looked down at the fleeing mass in disdain. The first few people squeezed past his massive frame, which bulked across more than half the width of the causeway. Others behind tried to shove his rock solid body aside, only to be themselves swept aside with a broad sweep of his massive arm. Suddenly, the whole section of the causeway groaned as the metal support arches swayed dangerously, spilling some of the less fortunate over the rail. Shrieks punctuated the air sharply, followed by dull thuds on the floor five meters below. Cries of pain rose over the cacophony of noise, pleading for help to escape the destruction.
The causeway shook harder a second time. An explosion rumbled guiltily in the distance. I haven't time for this, thought Lintorth angrily as he plowed forward, shoving the remainder of the crowd aside. He trotted the last few steps and passed through a high arched doorway. His crimson red cape flapped behind him briefly as a small gust of air rippled past him in the enclosed corridor.
Strange Lintorth Sol thought. He was nearly incredulous of the current situation. Another explosion seemed to punctuate his thought. Someone was directly attacking the Domain. This was far beyond the usual skirmishes across the territories of the Kryth Mahr. Most of all attacks on the fringes of the Domain were merely raids against ill-armed or unescorted transport ships. Rare attacks because all races knew of the terrible retaliation that would fall upon any aggressor fool enough to challenge the rule of the Kryth Mahr masters. Even the Vrae Javril, who controlled an empire as vast as the Kryth and easily their military equal, would not attack so boldly without any warning.
Lintorth Sol pondered the enigma that had been thrust upon him.
He ruled out the attack as the beginning of a campaign. None of our enemies have the capabilities or the resources to mount a war. The Vrae realized that a stalemate existed between the two mighty powers for a reason. Any full-scale war between the two would leave only one victor. A victor too weak to fend off even one of its subjugated races. This all had to be a diversion, but a diversion for what? From What? Lintorth's mind whirled trying to calculate what was happening. Why hadn't his carefully placed spies warned him? Had they been compromised? Impossible! Glass crunched beneath his feet. Lintorth Sol passed a burning maintenance console, the wires from the power conduit crackled with energy.
Just then a troop of Kryth soldiers rounded the corner, their boots beating a rough staccato on the deck plates. The flurry of bodies did not slow as they flowed around Lintorth, jostling him in their hurry to escape.
"Stop!" roared Lintorth at the fleeing mass of troops. He noticed that they were largely unblooded soldiers by the youthfulness of their faces. When none heeded his command, his arm shot out, grabbing a recruit and brutally slammed him into the bulkhead, eliciting a grunt and sharp cry of pain.
Already in a dangerous mood, Lintorth was further enraged by this show of cowardice by the Kryth soldiers.
"From whom do you run Tuuka?" Demanded Lintorth through clenched teeth. Struggling, oblivious to Lintorth Sol's rank and filled with fear, the young soldier begged "Let me go! It will kill us all!" Small arms fire echoed down the corridor punctuated by screams of the dying. Lintorth focused his flat, pitiless eyes on the youth. "Then die a coward's death." He hissed, driving the edge of his hand into the youth's throat, crushing his windpipe. The soldier slumped to the floor, choking on his own blood, as Lintorth released his hold on him, mentally reminding himself to increase the training regimen of his recruits.
Lintorth gazed down the gloomily lit corridor. Shadows hung menacingly from the metal arches that spanned the corridor in exact intervals, swallowing up the frail beams of light that glowed weakly from every third archway. Debris littered sections of the floor, blunting the effects of the light. Black troughs of darkness crisscrossed the metal foam floor, intruding upon the architectural exactness of design. In full light, the raised wall etchings would have stood out in crisp, clear detail on the reddish-brown surfaces, but in the dimness the edges blurred the familiar into the threatening. Even Lintorth's eyes were tricked momentarily into believing that the wall surfaces resembled the hide of a Varkestu flesh-eater.
Lintorth snorted contemptuously at himself. The acrid smell of smoke assailed his nostrils. He advanced a few meters into the corridor, inhaling deeply; his feet crunched over scattered data disks. He smelled the unmistakable stench of burning flesh as a new cloud of smoke wafted towards him. Lintorth increased his pace; brushing past a tangle of metal-wrapped wires dangling from the ceiling, ignoring the sparks that cascaded down when he passed. He roughly shouldered an overturned tool cart aside, scattering the contents of the modules, mindless of the metal tools that rang sharply on the deck. Lintorth automatically dropped into a running crouch, his powerful legs churned silently, as he loped forward in to the darkness.
A firefight erupted suddenly about fifty meters further down the corridor where another corridor intersected. Lintorth was able to discern the oscillating sounds of Kryth Mahr weapons firing. He paused a moment as he discerned a second sound, one that his keen hearing did not recognize. Another weapon could be heard firing producing a strange piercing roar, followed the sounds of projectile impacts against body armor, and more cries of pain and shouts of fear from unseen Kryth. Lintorth stopped just before the intersection and paused as the firefight ended abruptly. The sounds of bodies falling and the whine of the strange weapon were well audible in the sudden silence. Pressing a stud on his weapon, he warmed the plasma chamber in preparation for firing. Lintorth heard footfalls receding in the corridor and gathered himself to spring forward. His boots crunched on scattered data disks, as he smoothly rolled on his shoulder, kneeling and ready to fire.
A dozen Kryth soldiers littered the corridor, lying at impossible angles. He held his weapon at the ready with his left hand, and crouched next to the nearest body. Inspecting the wounds, he saw that indeed they were the result of some sort of plasma weapon. Three or four rounds had pierced the soldier's body armor, class-four he noted with a small amount of dismay. Melted by intense heat, the armor had been pulled into the wound. Lintorth probed the cauterized wound roughly with his finger, causing a small amount of blood to coat the tip. He brought it up to his nose and sniffed, searching for clues. Strange he thought. He sniffed again. Lintorth could smell the propellant residue but was unable to place its origin. Many races used plasma weapons. The Cukkzen, Vrae, Mrektalon and half a dozen other races recognized by the Domain.
Lintorth Sol blew breath through his nostrils disturbed by what he saw on the next corpse. No less than seven plasma rounds had punctured the heavy torso armor, useless protection on another dead Kryth soldier. All seven were tightly grouped in a space no larger than the outstretched palm of his hand. He knew that plasma rounds placed horrific stress on weapons, even ones produced by superior Kryth Mahr technology. Lintorth Sol was not pleased!
He could not believe how well a small force had initiated an extremely well planned assault on the outpost. Communications had been destroyed as well as weapons control. The invading force possessed weapons equal to or superior than Domain technology. Their warriors were very well trained and dangerous, as the dozen Kryth Mahr bodies around him attested.
Lintorth heard sounds from a room farther down the corridor. Moving with renewed caution and respect for his enemy; he stepped silently over the fallen bodies. As he drew nearer to the doorway, a duo of Kryth soldiers came running around the corner towards him. Their faces showed shock and open disbelief, which turned to rage at the sight of their fallen comrades. One pointed to the entrance of a medical lab. They both hefted their weapons and charged into the lab before Lintorth could issue any order.
A torrent of firing echoed for the briefest of moments as the two Kryth soldiers razed the entire lab with their plasma weapons fire. Lintorth heard the piercing whine a second before the deafening roar answered the Kryth challenge. One body was hurled back through the doorway, slamming in to the opposite wall, the soldiers frontal armor literally shredded by plasma fire.
Lintorth crouched in the shadows, hidden outside the radius of the few remaining lights in the corridor. The light shone directly over the doorway to the medical lab, illuminating an area approximately five meters in both directions. He saw the blood pool underneath the Kryth soldier sprawled against the wall.
Lintorth knelt easily on the metal deck, his brawny forearms rested across the tops of his left knee. He held his weapon unwaveringly at the dark, empty doorway. Lintorth wished for a heavier weapon instead of the light assault rifle he held in his huge, scarred hands. The suddenness of the attack on the Dalyth outpost had not afforded him the leisure to obtain a more preferred weapon. No matter Lintorth thought with a glance to the razor sharp keslar blade strapped to his right leg.
With his free hand he began to remove his cape. He was in the process of disengaging a metal clasp when something stepped in to the corridor.
The towering figure's helmet missed brushing the lower ceiling arch by a bare hands breadth. Its shoulders were immensely broad with a deep, powerful chest. The two arms and legs were long and corded with rippling muscles. The dim light above did not reflect off the dull, black armor that encased the invader entirely.
Its entire body was encased in molded armor that covered all exposed flesh from the top of the neck to the feet. Heavy armor plates overlapped the molded armor on the torso and the shoulders, adding more girth to the already physically impressive invader. The upper arms were sheathed in heavier armor and the hands covered with strong gauntlets, armored cuffs flaring up past the forearms. The black boots appeared to be made of the same material. The shins were protected by greaves and the thighs covered with heavier armor. Intricate, overlapping plates concealed the joints on both the arms and the legs.
Kneeling in the shadows, Lintorth contemplated his next move as he watched in silence. One of the metal clasps on his cape freed itself from the snag on his shoulder, scraped across his back, and struck the deck noisily, betraying his position. The invader snapped its head around frighteningly fast to look directly at Lintorth Sol.
Lintorth Sol snarled a vehement curse. He gripped the forestock of his weapon and elevated it parallel to the surface of the deck. Peering through the luminous sight, he calmly targeted the invaders upper torso. He saw the invaders own weapon rising to fire at him. Lintorth resisted the urge to fire even as his instincts screamed at him to do so. He waited another full second, allowing the plasma chamber to cycle to ninety- percent capacity before he depressed the firing stud.
The first plasma round struck the black-armored torso with a searingly bright flash of light. Lintorth kept his right eye frozen to his weapons sight, bracing his strong arms against the recoil, as gases vented from the firing chamber. The first round had staggered the invader slightly sideways, which caused the second round to strike its forearm instead of the torso. The invader's hand spasmed, discharging multiple rounds whining into the corridor wall before it dropped the weapon clattering to the deck.
Lintorth fired a third plasma round into the left side of its armored torso. The invader stumbled forward slightly under the impact, but instead of falling as Lintorth anticipated it bolted towards him instead.
Lintorth, surprised, fired three additional rounds in rapid succession. The massive black-armored body surged forward. Its legs churned powerfully, closing the gap between itself and Lintorth.
Lintorth watched in disgust as his three plasma rounds impacted against the invader's heavily armored torso with negligible effect. He saw the invader draw closer. Its heavy footfalls crashed loudly in the corridor as it hurtled over a pair of Kryth corpses in its path. Lintorth stood up from his kneeling position, not wishing to meet the oncoming rush upon his knees.
He sighted his weapon on the invader's helmeted head, gambling that a shot from his light plasma weapon would have more effect at point blank range. He pressed the firing stud at three meters away. The invader did not stop. Lintorth's weapon vented a large cloud of gaseous plasma instead of plasma round. The chamber was empty.
Lintorth had no time to rage as the invader loomed upon him. A black gauntlet swept across the front of Lintorth's broad chest and struck his rifle, sending it spinning through the air. Lintorth's breath exploded from his lungs as the invader's boot drove into his midsection with a sickening crunch. He doubled over, gasping in pain. Lintorth felt his broken ribs grate against one another beneath his light body armor.
The black-armored invader smashed a powerful forearm down on the back of Lintorth's exposed neck and slammed him facedown on the deck. Stunned, Lintorth tried to refocus his eyes around the black spots flashing inside his head. He felt blood flow down the left side of his face, where jagged metal had cut his forehead.
The blood stung his eyes harshly. He turned his head to the right, focusing his eyes on a large black boot inches from his face. Lintorth heard the distinct ring of a blade being drawn. The menacing noise spurred him to roll desperately to his left, inflaming the pain of his broken ribs. As Lintorth moved, a knife blade flashed in front of his eyes, driving point first in to the deck plates, precisely where his neck had been.
The tremendous, machine-like strength of the invader's massive arm had propelled the tip of the blade an inch or more through the metal surface of the deck plate.
Lintorth's eyes widened in shock with the realization that he had never been so easily felled, since long before he had taken service with the Domain. His disbelief dissipated in a flash, replaced by anger growing into a murderous rage. He watched as the black gauntlet rocked the knife back and forth, once…twice and the blade squealed free from the metal deck.
Still lying on his side Lintorth attacked the invader. Years of training lent him the speed and ability to react instinctively. His own booted foot whipped out, striking the invader's head with a loud crack. The invader fell backwards from its crouched position, caught unprepared by the unexpected attack. Its knife flew from its clenched fist as Lintorth's enemy landed on top of a Kryth corpse with a loud squelch.
Lintorth slid painfully to his feet, disregarding the pain in his side. He watched the invader rip its left arm free of the corpse, spraying blood on the corridor wall. The long blade protruding from its elbow had penetrated the chest of the corpse underneath it as it fell. The reek of blood and organ fluids grew strong in the corridor as they seeped from the gaping death wounds on the Kryth corpses. The sight and smells of the battlefield no longer discomforted Lintorth, a veteran of numerous battles, but still he envied his adversary beneath the black helmet.
Lintorth struck the black face of the helmet brutally hard, lacerating a few of his knuckles on a sharp ridge between the golden eye lenses. The blow staggered the massive invader, but it rose inexorably, only slowed not stopped. Lintorth struck again at the head. An armored forearm painfully blocked his fist. He rammed his other fist in to the armored torso to no avail. The heavy layer of armor blunted his attack.
The invader returned Lintorth's attacks with a near lethal strike to his abdomen with its knee. Lintorth barely blocked the knee, tipped with a sharp blade, to slash a deep gouge in his left forearm instead. As the invader stood on one leg, Lintorth swept the other out from under, sending his enemy crashing to the deck.
Lintorth, snarled through clenched teeth drew his own keslar blade. No unnamed warrior would mock his name by defeating him so easily. He would have the head he decided in an instant, moving to kill the stunned invader lying on his back. Lintorth's blade flashed down towards the invader's throat. A black gauntlet closed around his wrist with lightning speed, the strength of the vice-like grip made Lintorth's knife clatter to the deck. The invader locked gazes with him, its expression impossible to gauge beneath the unyielding helmet, but Lintorth bet that it was smiling.
The corridor floor flashed in to ceiling as pain once again erupted in his cracked ribs as the invader's legs propelled him through the air. Landing hard on the deck, he slid up against a Kryth corpse, halting his erratic flight. Rising with some difficulty he saw the black-armored being now ten meters distant rise to his feet. Lintorth's right knee throbbed painfully. He looked down, smiling at his luck. At his feet lay a plasma rifle, one much more powerful than his original weapon. Lintorth snatched the rifle up in one fluid motion. The heavy weapon felt reassuring in his hands. He knew that this time he would wound the invader, no matter how strong the armor. Lintorth aimed and fired at the invader's head. The discharge boomed much louder than the lighter weapon.
The invader threw itself flat on the deck astonishing fast avoiding the shot. The plasma round streaked overhead, blasting a head-sized hole on the wall panel at the end of the corridor.
The invader pointed its left hand directly at Lintorth; three of its fingers rigidly aimed at him. Lintorth heard coughs of air and saw wisps of vapor issue from just above the fingertips. Sharp pains ripped his skin, disrupting his aim. He looked down and saw two black spikes protruding from his left arm. The first had punctured his bicep, the second the heavy muscle on his lower forearm. Blood flowed out from the holes punched in his light armor. Lintorth saw a third identical spike protruding from his left thigh, bleeding freely. The wounds were a slight nuisance he thought. He sighted his weapon once again on the invader, intent on spraying it with the last few dozen rounds in the chamber.
Lintorth abruptly fell to his knees as waves of burning pain racked his entire body. He screamed as poison twisted through his bloodstream and assaulted his muscle tissue without mercy. His entire body spasmed violently throwing him into the wall. Clutching on to a doorframe, Lintorth felt a numbness in his left arm and leg slowly spreading, making him gasp raggedly for each laborious breath. His vision blurred, the corridor shifted erratically; He barely was able to hold himself upright.
He saw through his pain-hazed eyes the invader stoop and retrieve his own deadly weapon. Lintorth recalled the scene of Kryth corpses that he had passed earlier. He fought to lift his own rifle, but could not. He dropped it and clawed desperately at the pouch on his waist. He fumbled with the strap for a precious second, his fingers growing clumsy. At last he closed them around the object he sought. Lintorth depressed the cylindrical protrusion on the surface of the smooth metal sphere and lobbed it underhanded at the advancing invader.
He gathered a reserve of strength born of desperation and threw himself through the open door to the medical lab, not watching where the object landed.The grenade arched towards the invader, bounced near its feet on the deck plates and detonated. Domain scientists had designed the Desa 9 grenade. It was intended to be launched from a weapon, ensuring that it would explode hundreds of meters distant from ground troops. It was never designed as a hand-thrown weapon.
The explosion axed the legs out from under the invader, hurling it in to the bulkhead with such force that its body dented the metal upon impact. Careening off the bulkhead, the invader smashed face-first onto the deck. Hot pieces of shrapnel raked the body, gouging armor and flesh alike, some pieces ricocheting of the armor to imbed themselves in the walls, ceiling and floor. The invader lay motionless as the hellish flames licked over its body and whooshed down the corridor, leaving burned Kryth corpses in its wake.
Lintorth felt the searing heat on his back as the concussive wave from the explosion pushed him up and over a countertop inside the lab, his body sliding over broken containers and assorted medical supplies. He fell in a heap behind the counter, as a cabinet behind him discharged its contents on top of him. Some of the spilled chemicals were catching fire on the floor, the blaze growing as it found more puddles to ignite. Lintorth cursed as he struggled to uncover himself from the haphazard pile of medical supplies. Luck favored him as he spied a first aid box amongst the debris. He rolled for it, right over a chemical separator, its metal shell biting painfully into his wounded leg. Lintorth burned his hand slightly as he beat the flames out on the box. He ripped it open and searched frantically for…a cry of victory as he found a syringe filled with antidotes for chemical poisoning. He hoped it would be effective against the alien poison inside his body. Lintorth stabbed his left leg, unable to feel the two, four-inch needles that penetrated his light body armor effortlessly as it pumped, he hoped what was lifesaving antidote into his body. Agonizing seconds later he felt a cold sensation washing through his left side and spreading throughout his body. A good sign as the pain from the poison lessened noticeably. He rose up and leaned on the countertop, forcibly bringing his breathing under control to facilitate the antidotes effectiveness. He congratulated himself mentally for this small victory over the poison. Lintorth decided he might just have time to inspect his kill and glean some information from the black-armored being in the corridor. He limped to his feet and went back out in to the corridor.
The corridor had been severely damaged by the grenade. Thick smoke hung in the blasted corridor, mingling with explosive residues, that burned his eyes. Lintorth walked slowly and gingerly over the pieces of hot shrapnel strewn across the deck. Many jagged pieces, larger than his hand still smoked from the tremendous amount of heat and fire generated from the explosion. Passing the scorched walls blackened by the explosion and streaked with shiny shrapnel scratched trails; he stepped over the gasping hole where his grenade had detonated. Grim satisfaction filled him when he spied the black armored invader lying facedown and still fifteen meters away.
The invader moved slightly, one arm groped blindly in the air, trying to find purchase with its shaking hand. The invader was trying to rise up. Lintorth saw the deep gouges in the armor, exposing flesh underneath. Red blood squeezed between a large rent on the left side of the invader's torso, dripping on to the deck. He heard a barely audible groan as the body shuddered, trying to crawl forward.
"How", he muttered before the antidote weakened.
His question ceased unexpectedly as a violent spasm of pain yanked him ferociously down to the floor, broken shards of glass slicing his face. He panicked for a few seconds as he fought for control of his writhing body. He fought the urge to succumb to the soft pleasure of unconsciousness as another part of his brain-shrieked defiance. The part that knew to sleep was to die. The ecstasy of surrender beckoned, only to be rebuffed by his training. The warrior that would not let go raged and struggled for an eternity. The urge to sleep was too strong and began to overwhelm him, then a voice invaded his thoughts. A voice with a crystal clarity and raw forcefulness that could not be ignored.
"Move youngling! Get up! Up! Nokarsa Kel has no shroud for you! Many battles await the Domain! You haven't the right to die before I command it! Rise up! Rise up now!"
The iron wall that was his will crashed down, silencing all protests within. The call to sleep and surrender was shattered by Lintorth's cold desire to live. Lintorth roared in defiance, snapping him out of his haze. He sought purchase on the deck with both hands, his left hand closed over a hot jagged piece of metal. Instead of repositioning it for a clear spot he closed his fist about it in a crushing grasp causing it to rip into his hand deliberately causing the wound to bleed freely. His entire body tense, his rock hard muscles shaking under the tremendous effort it took to level himself up to his knees. Still squeezing the piece of metal in his left hand he bellowed at the pain contemptuously, daring it to fail him once again. The pain from his wounds and poison ignored, he smashed his right first into the wall and thrust himself upright in one swift movement.
A wave of nausea and pain washed over him only to be ruthlessly beaten back down mentally, as he staggered forward. He hadn't the surplus of strength to search the fallen body of his attacker as he limped forward past the struggling form of the black armored being at his feet. Immensely curious about the fallen warrior he dare not stop, for to stop now he knew was to die, as he sought out the nearing escape-pods.