And The Dead Shall Rise

"Harry," said Javier, pointing at the control panel, "What does 'E' mean, and why is the red arrow pointing at it?"

"That's an 'E'?" Finn asked, attention divided between the gauge indicated, avoiding the following soldier and not careening into anything explosive. Well, not yet, anyway.

The car gave a shallow cough and jerked forward. What does 'E' stand for? Emergency? Energy? Electrons? Engineer? Well that's taken care of.. Javier thought as he looked at the flashing red symbol. "I think E stands for 'Engineer'," he informed Finn. Javier glanced back at the combat suited 'brother' who was gaining on them now. "Shit!" He brought the launcher to his shoulder and aimed it at the sprinting figure. The same hesitation came over the engineer coupled with the feeling that he was about to kill a friend. He turned to the side and the visor swept over some large silo-like structures. The readouts in the helmet designated them as storage tanks for high octane rocket fuel. "Harry, find the entrance to that facility," Javier said and hit the firing button. The rocket streaked towards the four silos. The explosion that followed sounded like a thunderclap. Flames shot in every direction as the force of the blast threw Javier to the floorboards.

Find the entrance, find the entrance, sure, and would you like a side of fries with that? The car had been losing momentum and there were sputtering gaps in the acceleration which he suspected involved not a lack of engineering but fuel. Meanwhile it was just as hazy inside the gates and he couldn't see for shit but there was a sort of… blankness up ahead, if he could just coax the tragic vehicle just a little…

The blastwave of the explosion shot the car forwards, towards that very blankness which, as it happened, was a ramp… a very thin, multi-railed ramp which may well have been used for inter-level rocket transport but was, for now, the scariest roller coaster Harry had ever experienced. "Going down!" he yelled, over the bumps and jostles, "third floor, suits and sportswear…!"

"You're not funny!" Javier yelled from the floorboards. The car was at a one hundred and thirty degree angle and gaining momentum every second. The bumps in its descent threatened to tear the bottom out of the vehicle. "I'm going to kill you!" the engineer growled. There was a grinding noise beneath him and the floorboard suddenly jolted then bottomed out as Javier clawed his way into the passenger seat. Sparks shot up from the metal plate as it hung on by a bolt and flailed around in the opening. "I'm not kidding..I'm going to kill you!" Javier reiterated. The plate ground loose and whipped by his head like a runaway boomerang.

Holding the wheel steady was taking everything Finn had… one of the tires had blown in the first hundred meters or so and ohh how this baby wanted to veer off the side of the rough and narrow path they were descending. Costala was shouting something but Harry couldn't hear anything beyond the tortured screams of metal, his own blood rushing in his ears and the mantra of all old sea farers, 'hold fast, hold fast, hold fast…" as the two men continued their unholy trip into the pit of Father's industry.

At the end of eternity, all three or so minutes of it, they found the end of the line and it was coming up the ramp. Up the ramp they were currently flying down. A rocket, coming… up… the ramp. "Problem," Harry said, remarkably calm, under the circumstances. He attempted to apply more pressure to the brakes but the pedal was already at the mat.. no joy there. "Problem," he said again because some things cannot be stated too firmly.

Javier forgot his fear of rollercoasters as he stared down the ramp. Eject. Eject. Eject. flooded through his mind as memories of flight training came back to him. The engineer turned and grabbed the explosives from the rumble seat. He tried to gather up the last rocket and launcher but the launcher was being a bitch and decided to entangle itself in the one of the pack's straps. Javier looked up at the fast approaching rocket tip. The car was about to get the shaft, literally. "Eject. Get out." he said and opened the passenger door.

Just managing to get one arm snaked through the strap of his rifle while the other kept the vehicle from skidding into a dive off the side of the ramp, Harry was counting down to impact. "Go!" he shouted, "I'll hold her steady and jump… "

"I said get out!" Javier yelled and grabbed a fistful of Finn and sprang from the vehicle, pulling the security officer along for the ride. The boost of power from the suit sent them both to the far side of the ramp-way. The wall stopped their vertical journey, as the men slammed against the side of the corridor then slid to the floor and rolled down the incline. Javier heard the tearing of metal as the car impaled itself on the rocket point. Then he was laying on a level floor in a jumble consisting of Finn, the launcher, a rifle, a spare rocket and two packs full of explosives.

"Should we, by some inexplicable chance, survive this insanity," the muffled voice of an unmoving Finn commented, "this shall never be spoken of." He began to attempt extrication but, aside from the logistical issues of not being jabbed by the several weapons they had between them, he'd managed to rediscover just how broken those ribs were. It took three long, slow breaths before he could roll himself off of the entangled Costala. "Never spoken of," he hissed, laying back and trying to see beyond the pain-filled haze.

The engineer was up in a second, something about the factory made him feel good. Disentangling the weapons and ordnance from himself and Finn, he pondered the change. Perhaps it's the heat? Javier thought as he felt the warmth from industrial furnaces wash over the suit. There was a whisper in the suit and his eyes were drawn to the creatures lumbering toward them. "Duly noted," he replied, then added, "Oh Harry..look who's coming to dinner."

Finn was vertical in a heartbeat, the rifle in place and the pain delegated to 'I'll deal with you later, if I'm alive'. "That may be my cue," he said, as the shuffling drones who'd been chauffeuring the rocket smelled the blood of an Irishman. Right now there were only five and no suits. Finn dropped three in short succession. "Well, Batman, looks like this is where we part ways," he fired two more times and hooray for adrenaline because they dropped like the rotting corpses they were, "but first," he darted forward, grabbed a handful of the goo emanating from the nearest corpse and slapped it dead center of Costala's chest, where it left a reddish-green smear, "so I don't shoot at the wrong suit," he explained, passing by the apparently speechless engineer. "Always easier to ask forgiveness than permission," he added before, "Good luck. I'll be… making some noise," he pointed towards a distant series of scaffolds, "far enough away from where you need to be."

Still no answer.

O-kay. "If you get back, tell Wendy…" tell her what? "Ah, screw it… good luck," and with that, he was gone.

Originally posted on 17 December by Harry Finn and Javier Costala.


The sound vibrated the blimp, and Pev rushed over to one of the aft windows and looked out, curious and concerned.

It was part of a ship, and it was coming straight towards them.

"Steamrunner-class saucer section," the S'ti'ach mused as he refrained from putting two of his hands to his sensitive ears. "Nice lines. She needs to bank a bit though."

As if on cue, the huge, descending hulk of metal veered away, taking it off-line from the zeppelin and continued its descent. Slamming into the earth as if some deity was skipping stones, the titanic ship's section flattened a phalanx of undead and skidded to a lurching, violent halt.

Tucking her hair behind her ears, T’Shaini looked over at Pev.

“I do hope that was not our ride back.”

"Indeed," replied the XO with a grin. "Still, it was thoughtful of them to crash in such a way as to remove some of our adversaries." In fact Pev was thinking that, against all odds, the Hawking had somehow been located in this uncharted area of space, and that lifted his spirits. He looked up at the Vulcan.

"It occurs to me that as they have come all this way to find us, it would be discourteous of us to die here in this desolate place. I believe I'll figure out a way to beam us all safely back to the Hawking before they blow us up. You keep shooting zombies." Looking to the helm, he called "Mr. Stryfe! Bring us over to the site of the crash, please!"

Pev walked to the back of the airship, the wheels of his mind turning.

Originally posted on 18 December 2007 by Pev.

~ Earlier ~

:: Halcyon Master Control ::

The journey through the underbelly of Halcyon had been relatively uneventful. Nils found that his suit made easy work of the few undead that they encountered despite his poor combat abilities. The enhanced muscle strength alone was enough to crush most brittle bones of Halcyon’s grisly monsters. And with Nolan, the spinning ball of boyish fury at his side, the work of clearing the way had been simple.

The simplicity of their journey was halted abruptly when they emerged into what appeared to be Master Control. A helix of massive conduits hung from a vast ceiling into a series of networked machinery in the center of the room. The machines, which looked like oversized replicators, sat upon a circular dais rimmed by a wrought iron railing. The mirror image of Nils suit barring their way, however, stole any joy their arrival at destination prime could have offered.

“Ah damn,” Nils said, his voice booming through the suit.

<>Insect.<> The Bajoran ducked in response to a voice that no one else seemed to hear. <>Test your mettle against my children.<> An ominous presence no doubt enhanced by proximity to the NG field’s origin point dominated the very air around him.

“Nils hold him off,” Jillian said cradling her injured hand. The last wave of zombies had antagonized the wound considerably. “We’ll get to the control panel. Nolan don’t argue…you have to turn it off!” She gathered Nolan like a mother hen, and motioned for Dr. Thorne to follow them to the central dais as Nils stepped forward to block his mirror image from pursuing his crewmates.

<>I am Tennyson. You are insignificant.<>

As if spurred on by the thought, the battle suit charged at Nils.

“Costala wait,” cried Nils wildly holding up his hands in a pleading gesture. The battle suit crashed into the science officer and the tangled mass of Kevlar fell to the floor. The air in Nils' lungs exploded from his chest and he struggled to draw another breath as the mass of his opponent pressed him to the floor. “Costala…please…” his voice was weak and strained.

Fists pounded into Nils' face, which thankfully hid behind the suit’s protective helmet. A brief pause in the pummeling allowed the Bajoran enough time to look up and watch the battle suit draw two swords from his back. Eyes wide and in a panic Nils thrust forward with the heel of both palms and the battle suit flew off of him. Landing several meters away.

<>I am Tennyson. You are insignificant.<>

“Listen Costala,” Nils said springing to his feet. “I was just joking all those times I said I didn’t like you!” A pause belied Nils' insincerity. “Ok…Not joking. But I was exaggerating. The truth is you tried to be a friend when I…wait no…Costala!” Nils voice was hoarse through his shout. The speeding suit collided into Nils again, this time razor sharp swords swinging. The scientist dodged as best he could and held up his forearms to block the incoming blows. “I’m… Sorry… I… Punched you…”

A monstrous howl exploded from the helmeted figure and the butt end of both swords careened off Nils own helmet, knocking him momentarily senseless. His recovery was quick and again he launched his attacker from his chest.

“I said I was sorry,” Nils called pushing himself up on his hands. A sinking feeling overcame the Bajoran as he realized the virus had run its course in this one. Costala was lost to them. Despite his general sense of annoyance at the man, the loss hollowed out his chest like a gravedigger.

Again the suit prepared to charge… Nils had no choice but to draw his own blades. Up to this point his lack of experience with such weapons was easily overcome. Cutting through rotting flesh could’ve been accomplished with much less. Nils quickly did a physics calculation whereby applied force and vector velocity were factored with his estimated density of the blades and the micro bundling of enhanced Kevlar weave.

The battle suit sprang forward with blinding speed. Nils held both blades down the length of his leg until the last possible moment. As the battle suit sprang from the ground Nils whipped his blades up and then together straight out in front of him. Unable to halt his inertia once airborne Costala flung himself down onto the upheld blades, gravity and enhanced velocity driving them through the Kevlar and deep into his chest.

The dead body’s weight dropped them both to the floor. Nils felt ill. He’d killed the man. Slowly and reverently he rolled himself from beneath his crewmate. A silent prayer to the Prophets rose like smoke off an alter from Nils' pagh.

“You were a good friend even when I wasn’t,” Nils added quietly trying to draw his blades from the dead battle suit. The microweave made it impossible.

There was no time for mourning. “Nils,” called Jillian’s voice from the central dais. He looked just in time to see the doctor decapitate one of the zombies that were surrounding the two women and the boy. Once again Nolan was a blur of prepubescent might spinning and tumbling his way to zombie destruction.

Abandoning his swords Nils picked up the nearest thing he could find, a lead pipe, and charged into the fray. Battling his way to the center and joining his crewmates in decimating the incoming beasts lasted less than a minute.

“Father has a name,” Nils said, out of breath. “It’s Tennyson. And he talks to me through the suit just like he did Costala,” he spoke the engineer’s name reverently and delicately. A respect he’d not allowed himself to previously acknowledge now paraded the forefront of his tone.

“Such a nice name for a guy who’s a real bitch,” Nolan said, only to be chastised by Nils again for his use of expletives.

“Have you got this thing shut down yet,” the Bajoran asked taking a look at the controls.

"The mainframe's got some kind of failsafe," called Nolan from the operating panel. "I can't override. It must be Tennyson!"

"An organic redoubt?" asked Torrik, hefting the lead pipe in his hand. "So what if we just pull his plugs?"

Nolan shook his head. "If we do that, the whole systems launches. We need to outsmart him!"

Tatiana grimaced. "How are we supposed to outsmart a man who's jacked into a computer that's running an entire planet?" Jillian, standing nearby, ignoring her burned and bleeding hand, looked up from the desiccated remains of a headless zombie as Nolan replied:

"I don't know. But we need to do something, because those ships are going to launch soon, and when they do, they're going to make the Borg look like Tribbles in comparison!"

<>I am Tennyson. You are insignificant.<>

Father’s consciousness tugged at the edges of Nils own. The beginnings of a struggle for control danced just on the periphery of what Nils could discern as thought. The suit is the link to the Neurogenic field, Nils thought, his intellect instinctively reacting to invasion.

“I’ve had about enough of this son of a bitch,” Lieutenant Torrik Nils said viciously, still reeling over the loss of his hated roommate. His suit’s scanning ability hinted at an NG Nexus point directly behind the panel Nolan was working on. With strength enhanced by the suit he ripped away the screen and plunged both fists into its innards.

Arcs of lighting and a shower of orange sparks exploded from the machinery as the Bajoran screamed violently. His body shook and jerked as his intellect fused with the NG field. He lost perception of the world around him and Halcyon’s matrix had him.

Originally posted on 18 December by Torrik Nils.

.: Surface to Air (Or Vice/Versa) :.

"Oh, shit, it's Vince!" Caius shouted over the wind as he spied the cocky pilot as the young man deftly controlled the aircraft. As he spoke, the lumbering dirigible began to turn lazily in the sky like an overfed whale.

"They're turning," Gran announced to no one in particular.

"Really?" Caius asked, sarcastically. "Keep on them."

Turning back, he settled his gaze once again on the blimp, this time, spying Pev, who had climbed up on a safety rail and was gesturing wildly at the Argo.

"I think he's trying to tell us something," Tanis said, leaning over to get a better look at the sky.

"Yeah, but what?" Caius replied. "His arms are too short for me to tell what it is that he's trying to say…"


"I'm coming down!" Pev was yelling, as if they could hear him from the Argo. "Hold still and we'll drop a line." Pev did his best to gesture for the buggy to stop, holding three of his hands out, palms flat in a halt gesture while he held on with the fourth. The message was just not getting through.

"Sir, where are you going…and why?" It was a concern to T'Shaini that it appeared as if Lt. Pev was preparing to leap from the airship to the far-distant vehicle.

Pev paused his wild gesturing and looked back at her for a moment. "Down, because the Argo buggy is faster."

She looked over the edge. "It doesn't look like any Argo I have ever seen, sir."

"Nonetheless, it is a Starfleet vehicle. The markings on the side say so. And the uniforms on the personnel say so. And I haven't seen any Tellarite zombies yet, and one is driving the craft."

"You can see that from here?"

"Yes," he stated simply as he turned around and began to gesture wildly again at the Argo, which was now weaving slowly behind the airship, following it.


"I think they want us to stop," Caius said, still squinting at the ship through the monocular at the wildly-gesturing S'ti'ach. If he hadn't known better, he'd think the little guy was having some sort of convulsions right there on the rail.

Moments later, a Vulcan woman stepped to the rail, gently pulled Pev back, and dropped a rope. "Yep, they want us to stop. Someone's coming down." Gran didn't hear him, and continued swerving lazily back and forth behind the craft, paying no attention to the rope hanging down from the airship.

"I SAID STOP, GRAN!" Caius shouted as Pev scrambled over the edge of the rail and quickly shimmied down the rope. As the airship caufght up to the Argo, Caius worried for a second that the Hawking's XO might fall, right up to the point where the S'ti'ach simply let go of the rope and fell the final eight feet into the back of the car. Jameson was so startled, he almost fell out of his turret - catching himself at the last second by grabbing the barrel of the cannon.

"Hello," said Pev brightly, waving his two left hands. "I'm Lieutenant Commander Pev of the USS Hawking. We're currently fighting a zombie hoard that is preparing to enslave Captain Benjamin, launch a fleet of ships against the Gamma Quadrant, and destroy all life as we know it, replacing it with a mindless fleet of undead and controlled by a man calling himself Tennyson. I would ask if we could use the armament aboard the Expidition to assist, but I'm not sure any survived the crash. Splendid piloting, by the way." He paused, looking around. "We need to establish contact with the Hawking, break through the sensor interference and get a transporter lock on the crew, and evacuate the planet before General Order 24 is launched and we all perish. Or before we are bitten by zombies and turned into mindless beasts. How are you?"

Caius had cranked his head around to stare at the diminutive Executive Officer as he stood deftly on the rear roll bar of the Argo. "Umm… fine?" was all he could think of to answer as he tried, in vain, to wrap his mind around the statements Pev had just made. Zombies? Tennyson? If I hadn't been up there when the General Order came in, I'd think this was some sort of joke. Instead, it's some sort of twisted nightmare.

"Great," Pev said brightly, almost cheerfully. "Let's go, then." With that, he tied the tow line that he'd just descended to the roll bar and somersaulted into the small cargo area just in front of the turret. There was just enough room for him to stand, his head above the roll cage, but well clear of the bottom of the cannon behind him. Laying his ears back, he grinned a wicked, toothy grin and yelled, "Charge!"


Looking down from the open door of the zeppelin, T'Shaini noted Pev tying off the zeppelin to the Argo like a giant parade float, shrugged, and turned to Vince. "I believe you are no longer needed at the wheel, are you armed?"

Vince looked at her. "Does the Pope shit in the woods?" She frowned at him as he looked at her, slowly realizing what he'd just said. "Wait… damnit, I always get that wrong. Yes, I'm armed."

"Good. Find a window. Look for targets. Protect the ground crew."

Vince grinned. "Yes, ma'am."

Originally posted on 18 December 2007 by T'Shaini, Pev and Caius Echelon.

Dereguer Shipworks - Sector 8
Sub-level 5

In the less than five minutes since he’d ditched Costala, Harry had managed to wind his way to the ladder-like structure which connected the many levels of Daddy’s inferno. He’d somehow also avoided all but one of the zombie ship builders… though in truth he didn’t credit these ruined specimens with creating what looked to be a full-on fleet in less than 24 hours. Given what he’d gleaned from the news illustrations back at the Batcave, this installation had likely been in place pre-apocolypse and Father was just making use of what was already there, taking what had probably been this country’s weapons of last resort and recycling them for use in his interstellar holocaust.

Which didn’t really make his or Costala’s job any easier, it was just one more puzzle piece for Harry to fit into the malevolent pattern.

After downing the wandering corpse, he made quick use of Munro’s medicinal gift. Setting the hypo to 15cc’s, he administered the maximum allowed amount and immediately perceived a change as his muscles warmed and breathing became less ragged and a wave of energy washed over his body. The screaming ribs quieted to a dull whine as he tucked the hypo back into his boot. True, he wasn’t to take any more of the drug if he didn’t want to, what was it?, melt into hot puddle of purple goo, but there may well come a time when that was the soft option.

That done, he started to climb the scaffold, eyes scanning the area as he ascended. It looked like they’d made it all the way to the bottom level of the plant… not too crowded… he couldn’t see any sign of a suit, friendly or otherwise. Hopefully Batman was on the move, setting the charges where they’d do the most good. Meanwhile, as long as he wasn’t on anyone’s current lunch menu (possibly the smoke, chemicals and constantly burning fires of industry were masking his scent?), Harry figured it was time to go looking for a target of his own.

Because with the resurgence of energy brought on by the drug, he’d had a similar upwelling of thought and the first one that hit was, we’re gonna need a bigger bomb. Expert or not, two IED’s were not going to decimate this entire installation. And, as long as he was looking at the cold hard facts, there was every chance that Costala wouldn’t get those explosives set.

Come down to it, he might not even want to.

Look who’s coming to dinner.

Originally posted on 18 December 2007 by Harry Finn.

Even though the Argo could easily out distance what remained of the squad T’Shaini sent a rocket in their direction. Sensing that Vince was staring, she turned and raised one eyebrow.

“Can I use that?”


Vulcans are so crabby. Vince thought to himself. “I hope the little blue guy manages to get some kind of transport back before they initiate the GO24.”

T’Shaini caught her breath for a moment as his words sunk in. She had never heard that phrase outside of the academy…yet of course, what other choice for this planet was there. If it came between the lives of the crew on the planet and the possibility of an invading force launching, then this was the only logical solution. If anyone can find us a way out it will be Pev.

Scanning the horizon for further targets she heard the explosion before she saw it. Off to the southeast a pillar of flame bled into the sky. Javier. She spared a prayer for the two in the airfield, then lifted the launcher back to her shoulder and continued searching for targets.

Originally posted on 18 December by T'Shaini.

Voices whispered through the combat suit as Javier made his way through the mass of working creatures. They paid him no mind, firmly dedicated to the task that Tennyson had designated for his lesser children. As he moved the engineer used the systems within the suit's helmet to scan the different levels of the shipyard. The scans poured a deluge of intell across the interior of the visor, all of which he was able to process. The inhibitor is wearing off. The virus is taking over, Javier realized, no matter, I have to complete this mission. I have to remember what's important.. The engineer steeled himself mentally, hoping that he would remain himself long enough to finish what he and Finn had set out to do.

<>, you have returned to us.<>

The voices were not like the one Voice. There was no seductive promptings to kill or infect the others or even a mention of 'Father', instead the voices' of his brothers were exultant and filled with a joint mixture of admiration and comradeship. Each voice had a different timbre and Javier found that he could put a name to each voice. The first one was Terath, his trusted second. The visor automatically set a marker two levels above him that listed Terath among the other information that was displayed.

<>Command me First Born.<> another voice stated. Javier turned his head left. Belisaras. he thought in recognition as a marker set, designating the soldier's position 300 yards away on the same level.

<>I serve the Eldest.<> The engineer looked up. Five levels above him, Zakale circled on a catwalk, eager to be unleashed. He smelled something impure, there was an affront to his Master's creation nearby.

<>I am yours to command Brother<> Shyalee. The one at the gate whom he couldn't bring himself to fire upon. <>Pain is my enemy, for the glory of our Maker command me.<> Xerxes. The one Finn had struck with the vehicle. <>Eldest, victory is ours!<> Mithrael. Guardian of the gate, His most loyal friend.

<>Hold your positions.<> the former marine ordered, finding himself once again, in his natural military element.

He had been walking as he listened and Javier's study of the shipyard's structure led him to form a frightening conclusion. I don't have enough ordnance to destroy all the ships…let alone this entire factory. A sudden feeling of failure came over the engineer and cast him down into an unfathomable state of despair. How think I could stop a conquest of this magnitude with my little bag of homemade explosives. Then the engineer remembered the factory where he had become infected. I destroyed the factory from the control room..set the furnaces to overload and blew the shit out of that place. A small ray of hope sprung up inside of him, then was dashed away as the engineer realized there was no central control room in the shipyard.

"I have to find something, anything, to create a chain reaction. To magnify the explosion and its radius of destruction," Javier told himself as he scanned the factory. All he could see were creatures, rockets, and material being assembled. There was not even a fuel cache in the bowels of the makeshift shipyard. The engineer watched as the creatures dismantled one of the rockets that was in the primary stages of conversion. There's nothing here.. he thought in frustration. The helmet's scan pinged off of a small conical shaped object being removed from the rocket's interior.

Thermonuclear device, mass yield 475 kilotons, primary prolate, secondary spherical… the engineer picked from the scrolling information. Thermonuclear? Harry, we're going out with a bang afterall. Javier concluded. He realized that it would take too long to traverse the entire factory and set the triggers manually. The engineer opened the communications systems in the combat suit.

<>Terath, Belisaras and Zakale bring me the explosive devices from the rockets.<> Javier ordered. He could sense a change growing inside of him. The more he communicated with his 'brothers', the less he felt like himself.

<>To hear is to obey.<> Terath replied.

<>From the Father's lips to my ears.<> Belisaras answered.

<>Eldest, I sense an unworthy presence near, I think I should…<> Zakale started to say.

<>I command here.<> Javier replied, not recognizing his own voice.

<>Forgive me Eldest, to hear is to obey!<> Zakale said humbly.

Abselem smiled. He was among his old brothers-in-arms once more. <>Shyalee, Xerxes, Mithrael bring me the one who mocks my Father's creation.<>

Originally posted on 18 December 2007 by Javier Costala.

Dereguer Shipworks - Sector 8
Sub-level 3

Wiping the splash of gore from his hand onto the oxidized decking, Harry rose from checking that the latest rash of carcasses to cross his path were all truly dead before daring to move further onto the floor.

He’d climbed his way up two levels thus far. The first stop had been a disappointment, tactically. An area almost deserted, it had yielded a series of cubicles, long bereft of their occupants. Some had contained standard office furnishings, including the remains of some fairly clunky desktop computers; others were set up like miniature labs, boasting counters overrun with circuit panels, wire and chips… possibly the guidance systems for the original missiles.

What’s going to steer these things, now? the question flashed and was answered almost before the last word had faded from his synapses, “Captain Benjamin,” he whispered, staring at the abandoned circuitry, which was to Borg technology what a wooden club was to a phaser. “Holy…” but any further ruminating on the subject was interrupted by a shuffling and a moaning and the time had come to reap yet more of Father’s bitter harvest.

Things hadn’t improved, since. After shooting his way through the office space, he’d scampered back up the scaffolding to this lovely vacation spot - a maze of labs - each one emanating its own unique eau du chemical and each, it appeared, sporting a veritable hive of cadavers to minister to it. He’d hit the floor shooting and had used over half of his available ammo just on the beasties who’d been working the corridor perpendicular to the scaffold and where is the elevator in this dive, anyway? He rubbed the rusty grit off of his fingers… it tingled a bit… probably residue from whatever they were cooking down here… and began a quick and dirty recon.

What he found were lots of beakers, most simmering excitedly over low-flaming burners… by the last room in the corridor, he was becoming sick of the sight of the poison green substance and he almost started tipping them over, just on principle but pulled his hand away from the act as his brain finally processed what he was seeing… what it meant.

A fleet of what used to be warheads, guided by, Father hoped, borg nanites and containing… not an army of zombies… they’d never make re-entry in one piece, would they? No, what was going out on those rockets was….

Harry stepped quickly back into the hallway, as if the extra two meters made a difference. This was nothing more nor less than the incubation chamber… the birth place of the virus which would, if Father had his way, sow itself among the stars and that, that would yield a bitter harvest, indeed.

Swearing, he turned to continue his search for something, anything, that would put a stop to the armageddon being manifested in front of him but froze as he saw, stepping from what, yes, was the elevator, a suited figure. It was carrying something but that wasn't what interested Finn. What interested Finn was that, unless Costala had managed a quick offal-removing shower, this was one of the others. One of the brothers.

Three percussive shots later, it was still standing there.

The suits were bullet proof.

“Well, shit.”

Originally posted on 18 December 2007 by Harry Finn.

Previously, in the Halcyon Master Control…

“I’ve had about enough of this son of a bitch,” Lieutenant Torrik Nils said viciously, still reeling over the loss of his hated roommate. His suit’s scanning ability hinted at an NG Nexus point directly behind the panel Nolan was working on. With strength enhanced by the suit he ripped away the screen and plunged both fists into its innards.

Arcs of lighting and a shower of orange sparks exploded from the machinery as the Bajoran screamed violently. His body shook and jerked as his intellect fused with the NG field. He lost perception of the world around him and Halcyon’s matrix had him.

“NILS!”, Jillian yelled. She started running towards him, only to be thrown back by a minor shock wave. She got up, brushed the debris off her clothes and looked back to make sure Nolan and Tatiana were not injured.

Nolan poked out from behind a large cement pillar, “… I kind of saw that coming.”

Tatiana nodded, "I'm alright."

Jillian looked down at her already injured hand, a piece of shrapnel had burned through the bandaging – it was bleeding severely.

Her attention snapped back to the sounds of Nils screaming. A horrible roar escaped his mouth, like the sound of a thousand tortured souls being burnt in the pits of hell. He began to tremble as his body struggled to maintain it’s grip on the console.

“NILS! LET GO!” Jillian cried. His face turned ashen, and he began to mutter indistinctly, as his body began to shake from the force with which he was contracting all his muscles.

Tatiana flipped open her tricorder, “He's doing it. He’s interfacing with the computer…and I think…”

Jillian turned back towards Tatiana, “We have to stop it!”

Tatiana began to protest, “Jillian, he’s trying to…”

Jillian cut her off, “Yes, I know what he’s trying to do! But we don’t know what this could mean! What if we can’t tear him apart from the NG field? It’s killing him! This is NOT what we came here to do,” she screamed, “This wasn't the plan! I didn't fight to stay alive this long, just so that I could watch my partner kill himself!” She tried to push him off the console, but was only thrown back by the electric current.

"Dammit", she yelled. She couldn’t keep it together. Panic began to sink in; her heart was beating a mile a minute.

She turned to Nolan, and the tears began to stream down her face, “There has to be another way,” she gasped. Kneeling down in front of him, “Nolan, I know you can do this. You’re smarter than this bastard…Think!” she begged.

Originally posted on 18 December 2007 by Jillian Munro.

There is a state between consciousness and unconsciousness where time and space mean nothing. Lifetimes pass in an instant and moments stretch for eternity. In the realm between awake and asleep thoughts race by at speeds incomprehensible. Perception is limited, but imagination is not. In this ether between alive and dead, Torrik Nils faced off against the orchestrator of Halcyon's planetary nightmare.

"You have entered a place which angels fear to tread," the gentleman said quietly, his silver hair a nimbus beneath the soft, soft lights and his grey-hued suit all that was civilized. "Outsider," he began to circle the frozen alien, "intruder… poisoner of thoughts…"

Senses so distinct in the waking world mixed and intermingled such that Nils was not sure if he heard or saw the gentleman. Yet he perceived the being somehow as an idea with form. "You're Tennyson," he said, willing words from a non-existent mouth into a non-existent world. "You're Tennyson?" His form floated free as he reformed the thought, making it a question.

"It was a name which served me, once," the elder man admitted, "before I became Order and Peace… before I created this paradise," and all about the two, the quiescent nothingness reformed into a paradise, indeed. A pleasant land filled with pleasant, happy people, strolling or sitting or playing with children. "Before I created life everlasting and thus became so much more than the Lerad Tennyson that was."

"Paradise?" The Bajoran's voice was incredulous. "You created nothing… Death and destruction is not order and peace…" Shiny black Starfleet issue boots landed on Tennyson's soft green grass. A shift in reality occurred and Lieutenant Torrik stood in pristine uniform as his perception of himself found shape. The green grass he landed on began to fade to the devastating drabness of gray. It was the color of death. Death spread beneath the officer as his ideas drew form from the nonexistence in which they dwelled. "The world you have created is rotting and decaying… Its potential snuffed out… By you."

"You are a purveyor of lies who dwells in putrescence," Tennyson spat. "My world might have been as you make it seem, had the wars continued, had not my will been superior," he paused and on that smooth, almost silicon face, something rippled, as if it were only a reflection in a pond into which a pebble had been tossed. "But perhaps this rot you claim is none of my making… perhaps it is what you bring with you, tainting my purity with your own, defiled, past."

Once again the world changed and this time, this time it was to a place Torrik Nils knew all too well… the time and place etched like acid into his soul as, once again he found himself leading a small, hopeless band of children…

"Jachin," Nils said his eyes filling slowly with tears that felt all too real running down his cheeks. His baby brother's angelic face looked up at him, bright blues eyes shining and full of life…and trust.

"Where do we go Nils," his tiny voice whispered.

Go back…go back to Keldek… The thoughts could not escape into words. Nils watched helplessly as his life's defining moment, destructive as it was, played out again before him. His body froze as the children carried on through the quarry. The Cardassians were right over the ridge, waiting to kill them all with yellow disruptor fire…

"The Prophets walk with you," said a kind female voice over Nils' shoulder. Kai Opaka's diminutive form stepped forward and placed her hand on the tall man's shoulder. Nils watched her pass him and vanish into a vapor.

"No…" he said, finally finding his voice. "No," he screamed. "My brother's death is not a defilement of your purity." Finding strength in Opaka's words and looking to the Prophets Nils turned from the scene of the children back to the visage of Tennyson, cold and emotionless. "I've made peace with my path, Tennyson. The Prophets gave my past this chaos and it has formed me… I can accept it or not, but I can not control it. By trying to control it…I would destroy it."

"Then you are weak-willed, as well as foolish. And so are your Prophets… I will tell them so when I meet them," the man or, rather, the image of the man waved as if in dismissal and then, when nothing changed, narrowed his eyes. "Ah," he said, "I understand, now… you are no more than a common thief, aping your betters." When he saw nothing like comprehension in his 'guest's' face, the father-figure shook his head, "The armor of my son's brigade," he explained. "You, unworthy and uncleansed, have taken it upon yourself… no great mystery then, that you have pricked the sides of my intent." The voice was all confidence and superiority but again, there was that rippling and now it was the entire body of the speaker.

Realization slammed into Nils. He'd been playing the game of a madman. Clearly his weaknesses were exposed to this twisted being. But if he had one strength, it was shutting people out. The process he used time and again since his youth clicked into place and he was the stoic, tears fading as if they didn't exist, brow low and angry. This is not real. This is not the science. The science is sure. The ripples in Tennyson's image twisted and bent as Nils applied the meditation of science - observation. Tennyson was stretched thin. He was nothing less than a super powered being, but he was not infinite as much as he would like to be. And something that is not infinite is finite. There are limits… There are borders…

The world shifted.

Gone were all the illusions the Master of Halcyon had striven to paint and that included the Master, himself. In place of the gleaming gentleman there grew a shriveled husk of what might once have been a man but now was nothing more than a repository for a mass of tubes and wiring and encased, almost entombed in a vertical bed of circuitry. Pale and rheumy eyes open but flicking quickly, as if in a dream state, the man who would be king didn't look at the intruder. Not, at least, with any physical sense.

This, then, was the center of the net which Tennyson trolled and all throughout this grotesque inner landscape, flashes of the outer world would appear… of a sudden one could see a motorcycle racing past, as if watched by someone on the very street it had sped upon; there, the image of a thousand thousand hands manipulating untold steel objects, moving them up and up and up through the earth; another flash and here was Harry, holding onto the steering wheel of the car and shouting something that would never be heard in this non-place. Everywhere one looked there were these images… lightning fast windows to the world above and in some few cases, the world beyond the world above. It would be so easy to lose oneself in those images… the lines of code criss-crossing the 'ceiling' which bespoke the blocked communications or the dancing waves of thought which guided the many thousand undead. So easy to lose oneself if a last and perhaps, for the visitor, most disturbing image, had not appeared. This time he saw himself, shaking and screaming and, quite likely, dying while his consciousness remained here, watching the world that Father built.

The image of himself wrapped in the embrace of electrocution brought Nils to his knees in waves of pain. The pain was not imagined. The reality of space and time were intruding on the realm of forms and agony bled into both. Thoughts of Jillian standing by his dying body struck the Bajoran to the core. "All higher brain function produces neurogenic energy…" her voice echoed through his thoughts. Applying that fact to action, Nils concentrated on disrupting the first thing his eyes saw. The dancing waves of thought pulsing through the atmosphere around them bore the brunt of his concentration as he attempted to flood Tennyson's Massive Neurogenic Net with his own miniscule energy. Nothing happened.

Until he felt his fingers, the fingers he'd left behind in the real world, working their way through the guts of Tennyson's Master Control. And thought melded with physical form. The waves of thought guiding the undead wavered and quivered on their course before becoming nothing and dissipating. His union with Tennyson's net made him aware of zombies all over Halcyon losing all ability for higher thought.

Nils laughed. Ethereal spit and sweat mingled on his lips as an urge to guffaw bellowed from his belly and overcame the pain.

<>Impudence!<> the word tore through the ether as the energy Tennyson had used to manipulate hundreds of thousands of his lesser children broke free, scattering across his realm without focus, without purpose… chaotic in its dispersion. Order faltered in the face of such rampant dissolution and rage suffused every aspect of the hard-wired being at the center of it all. <>I… will… bring… peace!<> the words shredded across the waves and cut at the intruder's soul with the keenness of any mortal blade. <>MY will be done.<>

The rest, for Nils, was silence.

Originally posted on 18 December by Torrik Nils.

Dereguer Shipworks - Sector 8
Sub-level 3

To hear is to obey… to hear is to obey… to hear is to obey… the words were as the breath of life to Zakale and so he had obeyed, fetching down the device as the Eldest, so long lost to him, had ordered.

It had not been with any overt thought that he had halted the lift when the stink of corruption impaled his awareness, not with any foreknowledge that he stepped into the presence of the defiled one, who’s very existence was anathema to Zakale and his brothers. But, by his own will or not, he had done so and now he stood, vibrating with conflict as the sneering lampoon of life fired upon him. Thrice he fired and thrice the pathetic bullets fell away from the mask of honor bestowed by the Eldest’s great Father.

And still he stood.

To hear is to obey… Zakale, brave and loyal and burning with righteous passion gently laid his charge to the floor.

By the time he straightened, the false one had fled. Zakale took one step after, then another… slowly at first but ever quickening he followed his fervent desire to bring low the evil one.

A door slammed to his left.

So simple, this prey. Abselem would be pleased… he would forgive his brother’s transgression when presented with the mewling creature who cowered in a corner.

This time he was fully aware of the choice he made, twisting the handle of the locked door until it fell away in his hand, shoving the portal open, past the hastily piled corpses of the lesser beings, as he stepped into the small laboratory and closed the door behind himself, ready to cripple the enemy of the Eldest.

When the shot fired down from above, he wanted to rejoice in his opponent’s foolishness but there was no time, as the bullet entered one of the tanks which serviced the many burners….

<>Forgive me my bro….<>

- - - - -

In the crawl space above the lab, Harry Finn shoved the ceiling panel back in place and thanked every deity he could think of for fireproofing. Bellying away from the sounds of the explosion, he paused as he heard a cut-off scream of agony and that… that was a bad thing.

What if that had really been…?

Then he started on his way again because it didn’t matter. It couldn’t be allowed to matter. Even if that had been his crew-mate back there, the way it had behaved meant it wasn’t Javier Costala, anymore and Finn still had a job to do.

Originally posted on 18 December 2007 by Harry Finn.


Pev moved through the smoke and circuitry of the crashed saucer section, his heightened senses rebelling at the acrid scent and eye-stinging particulate matter that greeted him. Everything was at an angle, making it seems as if he was walking along the side of a hill.

Running a quick diagnotic, Pev saw that while the saucer section would not be leaving Halcyon, most of its primary systems were intact. He automatically shunt all power away from weapons and shields, routing it to sensors and the Operations panel. He knew that the ship's technology should act as a beacon to the zombies, but at this point the XO felt that most were already occupied with preparing their fleet, while the rest were concerned with stopping the Hawking crew. As a precaution, however, the S'ti'ach pulled several live wires from a wrecked circuit panel and left them exposed nearby. Should any zombie make its way in, Pev would have a few surprises of his own.

Accessing the comm panel from the flight station, Pev accessed a low-frequency radio wave and began running up the dial until the computer detected a signal.

"Pev to T'Shaini," he said. "Are you reading this?"

A click. Then: ::T'Shaini to Pev. Where are you?::

"The bridge of the Expidition. I'm going to try to bounce a signal from here through your handheld and up to the Hawking. Hopefully they will pick up the radio signal and amplify. I believe if we can get a clear signal through the interference, they will be able to transport us."

::Our communications are still being blocked by the tower,:: the Vulcan pointed out.

"Not once you destroy it with a rocket," Pev replied.

::Ah. I see.::

"Wait for my signal, then fire on the tower. I believe we will have a very small window with which to broadcast before Tennyson thwarts us again."

:;Perhaps the rest of the team on the ground can provide a distraction?::

Pev chuckled. "If 'if's' and 'but's' were candy and nuts, we'd all have a merry Christmas."

::I do not understand,:: said T'Shaini, puzzled.

"It means…" Pev heard a scraping sound behind him. "I'm sorry, counselor. I believe I am about to be preoccupied. Please leave the channel open, and I'm sorry for the noise."

::What noise?::

"Wait for it."

Originally posted on 19 December 2007 by Pev.

USS Expedition

Surreal. Zombie hoards, a mad scientist, imminent destruction courtesy of General Order 24. (Too bad about that—the planet would have been an epidemiologist’s dream.)

Join Starfleet! the sign had said. Adventure Awaits! It’d said nothing about Salvador Dali on crack. The only thing that still teetered on the brink of reality was the furry blue XO. She’d wanted to give him a hug, scratch him behind the ears, and ask Caius if she could keep him.

“This ship must’ve been expecting some action,” Jameson said. “When I was last in the armory, I’d catalogued over 5,000 weapons, including self-replicating mines and isomagnetic disintegrators. Couldn’t have done better if I’d supplied it myself.”

They had gone to the armory to gather weapons, supposedly to keep themselves alive long enough to get a signal to the Hawking. If they’d listen. The look on Alex’s face before Caius cut him off indicated he’d just catalogued Cay to the species, Abandoned All Sanity.

She stuffed her jacket and pockets with whatever she could find—phasers, explosives, d’k tahks. If she tripped and fell, they’d all be out of luck. “I’m glad you approve,” Tanis said. “Perhaps we can rip off chunks of the ablative and use them as shields as the planet blows up around us.”

“You know, I’ve never met a sarcastic Vulcan.”

“And I’ve never met a team so willing to follow a man who’s clearly not flying on all thrusters.”

“You’re not part of the team, wouldn’t understand. You steely eyed fighter jocks may fly in formation, but it’s different on the ground, when you’re fighting hand to hand, covering each other’s ass. When you’ve laid down disruptor fire and cleared the area, then hear a groan beside you. And your team member just gutted an Orion who was about to shank you. But you say nothing, because you know you’d do the same for him.”

Jameson finished padding himself with various sharp and explosive objects and left the room. Tanis stowed an extra explosive and made her way back to the bridge. Team. She’d always avoided the word, hadn’t been a joiner. Being half-human on Vulcan contributed to a loner existence…one she’d embraced while training under her mother. It was easy to lapse back into in the pilot’s seat, in space. No one talking behind your back, no furtive glances, whispered tones. Just you and the target, you and the stars…you and your ship. And that’d always been enough.

But she began to wonder if it would be enough.

When she reached the bridge, Pev had extracted several live wires and laid them on the floor—apparently a surprise for the friendly hoard members. He was talking to a woman, making plans to thwart the interference.

“Unh!” A pain coiled the base of her skull, sending tendrils up through her brain. She dropped to her knees.

Cay grabbed her arm, helped her up. “Are you all right?”

An image flashed in her consciousness. Saw a man, hands entangled in wires. Felt pain, disruption, chaos…as if pearls from a necklace broke, rolled across the curve of space/time, escaping. But subject to recall.

“Pev, if you have a plan, you’d better do it now,” she said.

Originally posted on 19 December 2007 by Rhian Gaius.

Lerad Tennyson's Offices
Four Months Before the Outbreak

Abselem looked around the office where his father had spent so much time. The area was cluttered with papers, empty food containers and drawings of whatever project his father had been consumed in for the past four months. He could say without hesitation that work was Lerad Tennyson's life. Even when he was a child, Abselem had seldom seen his father, as the renowned scientist had often been away working on one top secret project or another.

"My boy, my boy," a self-satisfied Lerad spoke as he bustled into the home office. "This is such a surprise. The project is near complete and I've been spending so much of my time down in the labs with the prototype that.." The elder Tennyson froze as he became aware of what his son was wearing. A brittle chuckle broke forth from Lerad's lips. "Capital joke my son, but do you wish to give your father a heart attack before this project is complete? I don't think our government would appreciate that." Not so close to ultimate victory

Abselem's hand settled on the hilt of the tonfa sword that hung at his side. It was the traditional sword of their people and the weapon carried by the soldier that graduated first in his class at Halcyon Military Academy. The sword was only part of what troubled his father. The uniform Abselem wore was what had given his father such a shock. "It's no joke father, I graduated at the top of my class," he stated openly, hoping beyond all hopes that his father would be proud of him. "They're giving me a field promotion and I am to join my brigade immediately. I just stopped by so that…" Abselem reported his voice full of excitement before his father cut him off.

"So that you could tell your father, who has had great plans for you since you were a child, that you are going to throw your life away on some meaningless crusade," Lerad answered angrily. The scientist who had, in his own way, become a power in his country, paced the office in barely contained fury before looking at his son and asking vehemently, "Why? Why did you do this thing Abselem? Are you trying to embarass me? Is it for attention..have I neglected you in some way?"

"No. I did it because I want to help our people," the soldier stated firmly. "Being a scientist and working in a lab is what you are good at Father," Abselem explained, "but it's not what I am good at. I want to be on the front-lines, among the people. I'm a good soldier Father. I've found something that I can do well and gain experience from while making a difference."

"In two months none of this will matter anymore," Lerad stated. "Then you'll realize you were wrong. You will forget this foolishness and come back here to work beside me. You will see.." the older man convinced himself. He walked around and sat at his desk. In his mind Lerad had already dismissed the actions of his son.

"Father? Can't you just be proud of me for who I am?" Abselem pleaded.

"Proud of you..yes, very proud of past accomplishments," Lerad muttered as his eyes were drawn once more to complexly coded diagram. He heard the audible click of the door and realized his son had let himself out.


Present Day

Abselem studied the shipyards around him. Father's work..all of this is His creation. the son thought to himself proudly. There was a break in his concentration, the Eldest's attention switched inward. The tremor within his mind grew. He had felt it several times but now it seemed more purposeful and…oddly enough, familiar. Terath approached him and placed the cone shaped device at his feet. The soldier then drew his swords and crossed them in a salute.

<>Hail Commander!<> the combat suited figure proclaimed.

Javier Costala stared at the suited person in front of him then slowly drew his own swords and returned the salute. The 'brother' dropped his blades and waited for orders. Another combat suited figure approached and deposited the thermonuclear warhead near Javier. This one also withdrew his blades and saluted and Javier repeated the movement. Watching the soldiers for any movement that would alert him to betrayal, the engineer knelt beside the first warhead and opened its casing. In the back of his mind Javier felt Abselem questioning his actions. He pushed the Eldest's belligerent queries aside, focusing on the warhead. It took him a few minutes to find the arming device and set it to a timed detonation.

Thirty minutes should be enough time. the engineer guessed. He didn't want to have to spend anymore time on the planet. Javier knew he was fighting a losing battle with the virus and if the Hawking couldn't transport him out soon..I don't want to live as one of them. he thought as he glanced up at the 'brothers'. He worked quickly and quietly, the ominous soldiers standing watch over him, as Javier armed the second warhead as a fail-safe. Finishing the task, the engineer sealed the casing using a welder's tool he found in a nearby toolbox. Now to find Finn and..

<>Forgive me my bro..<> Zakale's voice called out before ending in an angonizing scream.

<>Zakale? Zakale?<> Abselem called out. He searched the bulding with the scanners in the helmet. Zakale's combat suit pinged out a reply.


Rage burned through the Eldest. <>Find the Finn imperfection. Subdue him. I reserve the honor of sinking my blade into him first, then we carve his flesh in memory of Zakale.<> Abselem ordered as he withdrew his blades. His brothers Terath and Belisaras joined the hunt.

Originally posted on 19 December 2007 by Harry Finn and Javier Costala.

Dereguer Shipworks - Sector 8
Sub-level 2

Lifting the rifle to his shoulder, Harry had to admit this had not been his best day, ever.

The last ten minutes, in particular, had achieved a whole new level of suck (which, given the past twenty hours, was saying something) and the acrid smell of burning cadavers did nothing to subtract from the overall pissedness.

Not that he could complain about the odor… it had been his doing, after all.

Jumping down from the crawl-space after his brief encounter with the now-immolated suit, Harry had found himself in another corridor, this one filled with still very ambulatory corpses.

Only, they weren’t… ambulatory, that is. They were dormant. Well, not completely… they had kept moving but to no purpose. The industry which had filled those in charge of the virus’ incubation had, as Finn had dropped down in their midst, become just so much meaningless shambling. They didn’t even notice him - fresh meat, still on the hoof - creeping between them.

The opportunity couldn’t be ignored.

So he’d gone into another lab and hauled out two more of the pressurized canisters, opening each valve just enough to slowly flood the corridor and then raced to the scaffolding, hitching himself up and up and up, hoping to make it to the next level before the slowly leaking gas made contact with an active burner’s flame.

The explosion, when it had come, was significant and, though not enough take out a fleet, it had done some damage to the payload. It had also allowed those ministering it to finally be at peace.

A peace Finn had found himself envying upon realizing that three suited figures were dexterously descending the scaffolding towards him even has he climbed.

Throwing himself off at the next available floor, Finn tried to make for the elevator shaft, weaving in and out of the mostly inert zombies and the endless rows of foreign machinery they had been operating.

He’d been only three corpse-lengths from the lift, three silent hounds in hushed and easy pursuit, when the elevator doors spat out another of the brethren who unerringly turned his eyeless gaze to where Finn had halted, surrounded by death.

But even against the most impossible odds, the deer will fly the wolf and so it was with Finn as he turned, sliding through the many obstacles until he breached a doorway and pounded towards the ramp down which he and Javier Costala had flown so many, many lifetimes past.

Where a fifth figure waited, crouched for employment atop the graveled hill.

It rose upon his entrance, leapt as casually as any cougar down to Harry’s level. It didn’t rush. It didn’t have to.

Harry didn’t bother looking behind. They would of course be there - all of them - because like all true predators, they had driven him exactly where they wanted… the killing field of their choosing.

Definitely not his best day, ever.

And now Harry lifted his rifle… even knowing it was useless he lifted it… turning in place and laying down fire in an endless round because now he was utterly surrounded and there would be no more tricks: no more quick escapes or exploding gas tanks to pull out of his hat. Round after round he loosed at the slowly approaching wall of Costala’s feared brotherhood. So many suits, just for me. He must have pissed someone off. The thought made him smile as they closed in, not one of them registering the impact of the hollow-points striking their chests and guts and helmets.

Only a couple of meters left between himself and the enemy. Out of rounds, Harry reversed his grip, meaning to keep on swinging until the bitter end but even that was taken from him as they converged and he was, in a hauntingly soundless moment, overwhelmed by the clutching mass.

And now the gloves which tore the rifle from his hands were black and the faceless masks corrupting his vision were black and the arms which locked down his limbs were black and the taste of blood and failure pooling in his mouth was black and, finally, as he sank into that grasping, silent, sentient mud, all that was left for him to know, was black.

Originally posted on 19 December 2007 by Harry Finn.

The heir to a global monstrosity walked the catwalks of what had once been a military base housing weapons of mass destruction. It had been his planet's final solution but had never been initiated because it had been made obsolete by the creation of new life by his Father. The lesser children that wandered the facility were making a new fleet. My new fleet. Abselem thought fondly as he reached up to run his hand along the fuselage of the rocket ship. In the helmet he could hear his brothers and followed their hunt as he idled close to the rocket. My brother will be avenged. Abselem thought as he listened to others herd Finn into a trap.

<>Eldest, the impure one has been subdued.<>

<>Excellent Terath, hold him near the rocket pad. I am coming.<> Abselem replied to his second. He patted the rocket then took his swords in hand and made his way to the small freight elevator that would take him topside. He flipped the blades idly as he made a path through the lesser children. Zakale had been impetuous but he had also been a good friend. I should make this Finn bleed out before he's offered the sweet embrace of new life. the soldier concluded as he stepped onto the elevator and threw the raise lever. The lift jerked upwards then smoothed out as it ran skyward quickly.

The light shone down the dark elevator shaft and Abselem was illuminated by its rays. The evil angel rode upwards, cast out of the bowels of the fleetyard's hellish furnaces. As his head came level with the edge he could see the Defiler laying on the concrete of the rocket's launch platform. Around the imperfect form stood his five brothers, forming a circle of silent guardians. Abselem stepped forward, his sword blades pointing downward then swung them back so the longer blades lay along his arms while the short ones faced forward. Shyalee stepped to the side as the circle widened to allow him in.

<>Hold him up.<> Abselem commanded. Belisaras and Xerxes grabbed the Defiler's arms and dragged him to his feet. <>You killed Zakale.<> he told the imperfection, <>I'm not going to kill you but your transition to perfection will not be easy.<>

He'd only just come back to the world as a sixth figure entered the circle and had felt a surge of outlandish hope at the appearance of Costala's very soiled (thanks to Harry) suit. That hope turned traitor the moment the individual he'd known as Javier Costala spoke in a voice… not quite right. Rough with fury and something more, it ordered ordered! two of the others to haul Finn up to standing… an act he was certain he'd never have managed on his own, at this point.

But on the accusation of killing… who? Zucchini?… at that, Harry almost spat out that he hadn't killed anyone.

Then the memory of that abrupt scream replayed and instead, "Rules of engagement," he told the not-Costala, "It was either him or me… and I chose him." As he spoke he watched the threatening aspect of the creature before him… searching for any signs that the real man, the real Costala might still be in there. So far, the prognosis was not good.

<>Rules of engagement?<> Abselem remarked genially. He had heard the words before, they had served some purpose or meant something to him once. An echo formed in the back of his mind but the Eldest shunted it aside. <>Zakale was superior to you in every way. You're an infestation that needs to be perfected. Zakale was only trying to help you. Not only did you refuse perfection, you murdered him in the process.<>

"I don't know about every way," Finn forced a smile, taunting, pushing, "But he sure did make a mighty fine barbecue…" a hissing from the terrorist formerly known as Batman cut off any further forays into gallows humor so Harry sucked it up and addressed the real issue, "If by perfection, you mean becoming a stumbling, mindless, rot-infested puppet of death who's strings are held by Father, well, yeah, I guess I'd just as soon abstain… "

Abselem back-handed the defiler of perfection. <>Impudence will not be tolerated.<>

If the two sentinels hadn't been holding him up, he'd have been flattened. Spitting blood Harry shot his gaze back to the new leader of the pack, "No?" he said, his own voice cold, "What about thought? What about choice? What about free will? Or is this a case of: 'First we kill all the subversives; then, their collaborators; later, those who sympathize with them; afterward, those who remain indifferent and finally, the undecided,'" he hadn't been hit again so Harry kept plowing through, "You wouldn't be the first to think like that… shit you probably won't be the last… but I guarantee that Daddy Dearest is the only freak in the galaxy who'd try to thought-police beyond the f**king grave!"

This angry person was familiar to him. He dredged the thoughts from the recesses of his memory. This person had yelled at him another time. Abselem's fist clenched as he drew it back to cave in the face of the one who dared to spew such traitorous libel. He had threatened to punch this person for another reason. What was it? Abselem started the swing as the memory came roaring back to him. I'm going to punch your lights out!

"This is for stealing my girlfriend, you piece of shit!" Javier yelled as he slowed the punch so he popped Finn. Pow! Right in the kisser!

I think my head just fell off Harry realized that he was still standing, still not under his own power and, yup, that whole new world of pain was a sharp indicator that the nerve endings were still attached to the spine… wait "Costala?" he could barely see for the red haze, "If that's you it's time to blow this joint…" please be in there, please be in there he tried to lean forward, was held firmly in place, "Look, I made a promise to T'Shaini…" he began.

"Don't talk to me about promises," Javier shouted as he pulled his fist back for another punch. "You went behind my back while I was wounded..what kind of fking parasite are you? Harry 'Fk You Over' Finn. I should kill you…but I won't. Ah the hell I won't. T'Shaini was the best thing that ever happened to me."

Talk about your rapid course changes.. "What in the f**king hell are you talking about?" Finn, confused, injured and getting downright pissed, wrenched himself furiously… might as well fight a steel beam… "Behind your back to 'what'? And what does being a parasite have to do… with…. T…" the credit dropped. "Oh come on! You do not think that she and I… and she…" Finn faltered because, for one, the entire situation was too absurd and two, this was probably not the time to be hashing out a scene from 'Othello'. "Look, bygones, whatever… T'Shaini loves you… YOU… and only you. She and I are… I'm a patient and she's my handler and… whatever… she loves you, Javier Costala and made me promise to get you back alive. Savvy?"

"Me?" His anger cooled slowly. God, how he wanted what Finn said to be true. "But I saw you..whispering together. I heard you ask her to let the mission turn her to you.." Javier said as the memory of Finn and T'Shaini's conversation returned to haunt him. "You didn't know I was listening did you?" the engineer asked as Harry stared at him, "apparently Father built..the scientist built a rather decent listening device into the suit."

The casual reference to 'Father' sent a chill through his spine but, "You heard… you heard a part of what I said… not the whole… and you don't know me well enough to believe it but I'll tell you anyway… There is nothing between Wendy and I… for three reasons, there's nothing: one, she's blotto over you so what would be the point? Two, she's in uniform and I will never involve myself with another member of the 'Fleet and three…" he thought, for possibly the first time since landing on this dead world, of why he couldn't be involved with T'Shaini or anyone else… not while… "three is private…" He tugged, out of habit more than expectation, at the rigid arms holding him in place, "And none of this will matter a damn if we don't stop that fleet and get our sorry asses back to Hawking… to her…"

<>My son… I have heard your call<>

Abselem came clawing back from the ether of Costala's mind. He had been pushed aside by Costala's powerful emotions but now he rose to the surface at his Father's beckoning. <>Father, this one has made a mockery of your perfection. He refuses our help. He has killed one of my brothers. What shall his fate be?<> Abselem beseeched.

<>I have told you my wishes regarding this one many times<> the velvet dagger of Father's voice chided <>He is beneath the lowest of the low creatures… he is a blight in the garden of paradise and there is only one way to cure such a blight… it must be cut out of the plant, lest it destroy all<>

<>To hear is to obey.<> Abselem replied as grasped the sword in his right hand firmly and stepped close to the 'blight'. <>In the name of the Father!<> the Son cried as he thrust the short blade into Finn's stomach. Abselem turned the edge and withdrew the sword as the man fell off the blade. <>You are purified.<>

At long last the two guards loosened their grip, allowing Harry to slide, bleeding, to the hard ground where he could watch the slow pooling of his own life beneath him and see in it the reflection of failure, tinted red.

Originally posted on 19 December 2007 by Harry Finn and Javier Costala.

"Pev, if you have a plan, you’d better do it now."
"Not yet," Pev replied, staring at the panel. He needed to wait for the signal. He was exactly certain what the signal was, but he knew it would come. The rest of the crew were still out there. He couldn't risk missing what might be their one opportunity at a clear shot to communitcate with the Hawking and beamthem all to safety. He put a command in place, one that would open a channel to the ship when the time was right.

Something… There had to be something else he could do. And then it struck him.

"The zombies are drawn to our technology," he said, his four hands moving across the ship's inputs. "Something in the virus. We're 'impure.' Captain Benjamin most of all." Even with the enhancement to the ship's communications, there was still power to spare on the ship.

"Wherever the rest of the crew are, even given the number of undead boarding the invasion fleet, they are still under seige." Pev cut the power to life support; there was plenty of air to breathe, and the holes in the hull meant enough breathable air would continue to fill the saucer section for as long as was needed.

"I'm certain Captain Benjamin and the rest have a plan." He pulled his hands off of the control panel and held them just off the surface for a moment, like a multi-limbed pianist about to begin a concerto.

"Pev," asked Tanis, sounding concerned, "What are you doing?"

"They just need a little breathing room."

"Uh, sir?"

Pev's fingers descended, and the bridge lit up. Invisible to the eye, every available sensor on the remains of the ship began broadcasting on a rotating frequency through the entire wave spectrum, as loud as possible. Not into space, not yet. But Pev was certain that any zombie within the area would recognize the level of technology, perceive the threat as larger than that posed by the flesh-and-blood variety, and move to destroy or absorb it.

"Come and get it!" shouted Pev with a savage grin. Turning finally to regard the others, Pev said, "You might want to find non-powered weaponry. Company is coming, and I think they're hungry."

Originally posted on 20 December 2007 by Pev.

Previously, in the Halcyon Master Control…

“NILS!”, Jillian yelled. She started running towards him, only to be thrown back by a minor shock wave. She got up, brushed the debris off her clothes and looked back to make sure Nolan and Tatiana were not injured.

Nolan poked out from behind a large cement pillar, “… I kind of saw that coming.”

She turned to Nolan, and the tears began to stream down her face, “There has to be another way,” she gasped. Kneeling down in front of him, “Nolan, I know you can do this. You’re smarter than this bastard…Think!” she begged.

The child was taken by surprise at Jillian's reaction. Nils pulling a half-assed stunt he could expect, but there was no crying in Starfleet! Or was that baseball? "But… he's in the computer," the boy began slowly. Tennyson wasn't a physical opponent that Nolan could fight. If he was then the matter would have been relatively simple to resolve. Nolan liked easy solutions like that. It was probably why he was in security. Draw the phaser. Open the can of whoop ass. Save the girl. And then go have ice cream.

"How am I supposed to hurt a pro…" the youth began, his words fumbling as random images began popping into his mind. It was almost surreal. Program. Computer. Circuit. Absently, the boy began patting his uniform as he felt around for a quick inventory. He'd used his commbadge for a bomb earlier. He did still have his hold-out 'cricket' phaser, which still had a full charge in the power cell. What else did they have?

Gazing up at Jillian, Nolan saw the tricorder sticking up from out of the pocket on the hip of her uniform; reaching out to snatch it without a word. Flipping the squarish device around in his hands, the boy mulled over what components were contained inside.

"E.M.P." Nolan stated finally.

"Electromagnetic pulse?" Jillian echoed. "Can we set one off with the tricorder?"

"Maybe… if we can arc a strong enough current through the isolinear shunt to bridge the two power cells then they should align their poles, generating a magnetic field that could be amplified by using the…" the child began, only to be cut-off by the doctor.

"Okay, I get it! So just do it," she urged impatiently.

"Well, its not that simple," Nolan thought aloud, as he sat down on the floor and began working to crack open the exterior cases of the tricorder and the phaser. "I'll need a length of metal tubing…" he realized, glancing around for a moment before settling on Jillian.

"Your bra," the child said simply.

"Excuse me?" Jillian replied.

"I need the underwire from your bra," Nolan stated, before turning and looking over at Tatiana. "Yours too. Also, a hair pin."

"Anything else?" one of them cracked sarcastically. "My pants maybe?"

"No, but we do need something stretchy to apply tension to the diodes," Nolan mused absently, not even giving the bitter comment a thought as he continued to sit on the floor and disassemble the two Federation items for their parts.

"What about elastic from your underwear?" Tatiana ventured, looking down at Nolan.

The boy looked up to give her a vacant stare in response. "Underwear?" he echoed, as though to say I'm supposed to be wearing some? Honestly, adults loved coming up with things to add to the laundry pile, didn't they?

"Nevermind," Tatiana said finally, as Nolan resumed his work assembling what he hoped would maybe sorta work as an EMP device.

Originally posted on 20 December 2007 by Tatiana Thorne and Nolan Marc.

<>You are purified.<>

One hand covering the wound in his gut, Harry dropped to his knees and watched as blood welled up between his fingers thence to drip down, a bright rain falling on the dull gray of the launch pad. Purification sucks… I think I'll stay grubby, if it's all the same to you. He felt a gurgle of a laugh at that, which was weird. This must be shock… shock is sweet… as sweet as a shot of single malt on a rainy night… but not as sweet as the soft curves of a willing woman, when her red hair slides over your chest…

A monotonous atonal hymn-sounding thing interrupted his thoughts.

"HEY!" he looked up from where he'd slumped, to the six too-identical soldiers of death, "I'm trying to have a hallucination here and you chumps are f**king with it!" The shouting made the pain gape wider, shifted something inside in a way that made him queasy but, hell, he'd had worse injuries, right? Didn't mean this one wouldn't kill him… it'd just take a while to get there from here.

The soldiers that encircled the Eldest and his sacrifice paid the dying thing no mind. The defiler's deathchant rattled in his lungs in a language none of them could comprehend. Even if they had been able to understand what the insect was muttering from his bloodfrothed lips none of them would have ceased in their praise of the Father and His Hand of Purification, the Eldest.

<>Hail Father! A new world is Your blessing. A new People is Your design. A new life is Your conception. Hail Father. Hail the Eldest, Our Father's Most Beloved!<>

The Eldest was silent. He did not join his brothers in their song. His attention was on the crimson blood that trickled down the short blade of his sword then dripped to the cold, gray concrete. His eyes went back to the one he had purified, the one he had known as 'Finn'. The creature had not been armed and yet he had struck down the blight at his Father's behest. It was for purification. Abselem rationalized. A voice spoke in his mind, familiar sounding, yet not one he recognized.

It was murder! Javier thought. His memories flooded through Abselem's mind. Soldiers in camo paint surrounded a group of dying civilians. He was staring down at them in shock. One of the civilians, a man shot in the stomach and chest raised his arm and pleaded for aid. Why don't you just lay there quietly and bleed to death. the platoon sergeant had said as he put his foot on the man's chest and forced him back to the ground. The sound of weapon's fire cut the air.

A rough voice issued from the helmet. "Why don't you just lay there quietly and bleed to death," Javier said as he put his boot on Harry's shoulder and pushed the man onto his back.

"Haa…" the gasp of a laugh escaped as his spine hit the pavement… it was stupidly painful and yet he couldn't contain the dark mirth, "Don't blame me if your aim was less than perfect," he told the man… former man… above. He tried to push himself up but the foot pressing him back was iron and Harry was nothing but flesh and broken at that. "Guess Father's standards have slipped some… pulling in the third-stringers…" he was rambling and he knew it but damned if he'd just lay there, bleeding in silence…

The Eldest had used the short blade to stab the defiler. The longer blade would have killed him almost instantaneously, Abselem wondered as he questioned the method he had chosen to kill 'Finn'. He deserves to suffer for Zakale though. But the choice irritated the Eldest further as he realized that he had barely pierced the defiler's stomach with the shorter blade. That can be remedied easily enough.. Abselem concluded as he stepped back and flipped the longer blades forward.

It was the window Javier had been hoping would open. Now if only Harry Finn would stay down! He swung the blades high over his head. The downswing would cleave Harry's head from his body. The song of the other suits paused as with lightning speed Costala flipped the blades over again so the longer edges pointed outward then swung the blades down diagonally and rammed them through the helmets of the combat suits standing on either side of him. The long blades punctured the visors and entered the brains of Xerxes and Belisaras, killing them instantly. Using the strength of the virus Javier removed the blades with a sharp tug on the sword handles.

He flipped the blades around as he turned and 'walked' the shorter ones up Terath's torso, stabbing the suited figure repeatedly until he decapitated the soldier by cutting across the suit where it joined the helmet. A roar of anger flooded through the suit and Costala knew then that Father was aware of his betrayal. The engineer swung the blades up to block a cut from Mithrael then Javier was blocking the joint attacks of Shyalee and Mithrael as they sought revenge and followed their Father's command to kill him.

Finn watched the helmet roll unevenly past him… "That was unexpected," he said, before gritting his teeth and hauling himself up to standing… okay, listing. Whomever was running Costala's body right now had just taken out three combat drones in less than twenty seconds but the other two had caught on. Harry might be a few parsecs short of a clue but he figured that the enemy of his enemies, yada yada yada… He scanned the ground for a weapon while Costala's suit blocked the two silent brothers… one he cleared by a solid kick to the gut which, unfortunately, sent the suit directly towards Harry.

Diving sideways, embracing the clawing tendrils of pain from every part of his body, Finn swept up one of the headless drone's blades and turned in search of a target.

Shyalee turned to dispatch the insect. Mithrael could take care of the traitor, he thought before an agonizing pain shot through his body. Shyalee dropped to the ground, never to arise, his legs useless.

Javier had blocked a powerful swing by Mithrael with one of the swords, then turned to stab Shyalee in the back, severing the suit's spine, as the soldier pursued Finn. The sword would not come free and the engineer was forced to abandon it as he dodged a deathblow. The last standing soldier attacked him with a flurry of blows and the engineer could only block, dodge and back-pedal with his single blade.

You wanted a target Finn told himself as, even while he turned to face the oncoming enemy, Costala's blade dropped the creature to the ground. Vainly it tried to push itself up… tried, even Harry could see how it tried… to get it's legs back beneath him… it… but even the dead have their weaknesses, it seemed. Harry approached the fallen soldier, wondering if there were any rules of engagement to cover what he was about to do.

As he closed in, the swipe of a hastily grasped sword almost took his feet out from under him, "Down but not out," Finn said quietly. "I know how you feel…" the next swipe he stomped down on the flat of the blade, cringed as it skidded a ways, taking his foot along for the ride but then he cut down with the sword in his own hand… deep breath… almost severing the arm of the wounded brother, just below the elbow.

The blow took effort, though. Effort of body, which in Finn's case was running on empty and effort of spirit, by now sunk so low it couldn't even see the sky. So when he fell to his knees, as wounded in his own way as the crippled masterpiece of madness, sword raised for the coup de grace, he was all unprepared for what came next.

Shyalee cried out in pain as his arm burned in the fires of agony. With his last breath he would see the Father's will done, so he pulled himself onto the insect's blade as he grabbed it's arm and thrust the blade deep into his own body. He brought the undesirable in close hoping to impale it on the end of the short blade in a macabre dual suicide. His grip was firm and the insect struggled feebly as it left a red trail on the ground behind it.

Javier could see what was happening but could not help Harry as Mithrael was intent on chopping him to bits. He knew the man was spent. "Harry! Fight it!" he yelled, then out of fear of Harry not hearing him, changed his tactics. Javier dropped to the ground and slashed at Mithrael's calves and leg muscles before rolling to the side. The combat suit fell soon after but scrambled toward the engineer as it growled like a rabid dog. Javier grabbed the nearly severed arm of Shyalee and yanked backwards, pulling the soldier away from Harry, as Mithrael launched himself forward. Turning the wrist so it severed the arm completely, Javier was able to lift the blade in Shyalee's now useless hand, as Mithrael impaled himself on it. One of Mithrael's blade points entered Costala's thigh and the engineer yelled as he used all his strength to jam Shyalee's sword as far into Mithrael's body as he could. Mithrael's body spasmed and expired.

Having been knocked backwards by the deformed puppet, Finn had locked his elbows against its slow, steady pull but it had wrapped that one arm around his neck by now, and even when he felt something happening close, tugging at the thing which pinned him… heard Costala's shocked cry, he knew it was too late… Nightmare 10, Finn 0. His arms began to buckle and the blade began to pierce the skin above his heart. "Time to wake up," he gasped out, though he doubted any such childish request would have an effect.

A weak call from Finn alerted Costala to the fact that Shyalee was still alive. Withdrawing the sword from Mithrael's corpse, Javier used Shyalee's own sword to lop off the soldier's head as the engineer yelled, "HAI-YAH!" in victory. Shyalee's head bounced across the concrete as Javier pulled the creature and it's second sword away from Harry Finn and deposited the corpse to the side. "How many minutes have passed since we split up?" he asked as he reached down and took the handle of Mithrael's sword. With a grimace, Javier removed the blade from his thigh. He barely felt anything and wondered if that was a good sign.

"In real or perceived time?" Harry exhaled from where he lay, kind of hoping the prior giddiness would make a comeback. No go. He replayed the past century in his mind, from the moment he'd left the engineer to now… "I lost some time when the pack knocked me out," he said, "but I'm pretty sure it had been between eighteen to twenty minutes at that point," he tried to sit up, failed miserably, "Why?"

"In about..four minutes this place will be nothing but a memory," Javier remarked.

Originally posted on 20 December 2007 by Javier Costala and harry Finn.**

To hell with the desert

Anthony and Bianca hiked up the mountainous trails, ignoring the aching pains and the steady numbess which loomed so close to him he continued walking up the mountain.

The morning look so beutiful, the majestic colors streched forever across the barren wastelands for ever…

And the sea of dead ruined the atmospheric feeling, Anthony and Bianca continued hiking up the mountain, shrubs they stepped on, harsh on thier boots the ground was.

"I can't take anymore" Yelled Bianca, grabbing her they both continued slugging up the mountain, and then he looked behind him.

Obviously not some of them had rigor mortis, they charged at Anthony, quickly spinning around Anthony raised his assualt rifle…

click… click…

He checked his waist for anymore clips, nothing, dropping his weapon he unshashed a side arm.

click… click…

Empty, Anthony grabbed Bianca and they both ran up the mountain, the hot sun only worsend things as they reached the top, and somehow, God had answered thier prayers.

Two corspes lay on the ground, with self inflicted holes in thier heads, 3 others had reanimated and charged at them. Anthony drove his leg onto the closest zombie, breaking his leg, then relentlessly crushed the creatures already frailed head against some dry rocks, Bianca's pistol fired twice, missing once then striking the second, the last Anthony hurled a rock, which struck the zombie in the head and knocked it out.

He ran over and searched the corspes for a weapon he so desperatly hope for, anything, and he found not a single weapon, but a whole cache, unopened. The defenders were proberly over run before they could.

He took out a weighty weapon, bearing 6 barrels and firing what resembled 5.56mm bullets, quite a small round for such a heavy weapon. The rounds spewed from a large barrel which he slung onto his back.

The flood of zombies reached the little peak they now stood on, he held the trigger down and the barrel spun, and then Anthony took a step back, such was the force of the weapon, had it not for his conditioning and training would have knocked him off his feet, the weapon spewed lead at an amazing rate, slicing down the zombies ranks. He took his fingers off the trigger and took a breath, and looked at the sea of zombies, atleast 60-90 had been hit, but most of them walked, and the sea was still there. Bianca came out with another pistol and kept firing the crowd.

They both stood thier ground, hopefully fate will tips its scales, or God will send his angels, either they needed a miracle, and quick.

Originally posted on 21 DEcember 2007 by Anthony Trann.

L’mek was learning how to drive the ancient vehicle with enough ease and the fact he enjoyed driving over the bumps and dunes almost as much as chief Jackson. Camenze was enjoying it so much she couldn’t speak.

L’mek was about to hit a dune just when an undead walked in front of the truck, jeep thing. L’mek hit it and kept going, with chief Jackson saying “ That’s showin em.” in his usual southern drawl.

After about four to five minuets of driving and smacking monsters with what had to be the most gruesome hood and grill in history L’mek saw a man in the rear view mirror. The only thing strange about it was that he was running, and catching up.

As the figure got closer L’mek noticed the suit. “Chief I think that’s Costala running up on us.” when the figure got closer it unsheathed a blade and threw it into the vehicle causing a small explosion and the vehicle to stop. Jackson now stepped out of the vehicle and spit onto the ground then walked to the man only to have his head removed. As he ducked the blade he was already yelling at the man. “Costala what the hell is your major malfunction. Did daddy Tennyson give you the attention you so desperately craved your whole life.” then the zombie hit him throwing him into the vehicle.

L’mek rushed behind the suited man and stabbed it in the back to quickly find out his blade could not puncture through the suit. It seemed it was more than form fitting it was also harder than Romulan steel. The thing turned and hit L’mek back about ten feet.

As it turned to Camenze L’mek ran about seventy five meters away from everyone and pulled out his disruptor pistol and took aim. He pulled the trigger and missed by a fraction of an inch. But the point was made. The thing turned and looked at L’mek. L’mek now worried about his survival yelled for everyone to get behind the vehicle and stay there until the explosion was done.

Doing as they where told Jackson and Camenze ducked behind the truck. L’mek ran about twenty five meters farther away and put up the disruptor for the more destructive explosive weapon. He loaded a black shell into it and fired at the suited figure. That in his mind was way to fast to be moving so methodically.

The shell hit the target and detonated just as predicted but as L’mek was just about to relax the thing could be seen walking out of the dust cloud without so much as a scratch on it. L’mek sheathed his projectile weapon in defeat. And pulled out the honor blade. Then just put his arms to the side and spoke to himself. ”Well that’s it. Were dead. This thing is invincible.” as he got into a fighting stance he noticed Camenze jump onto the things back and unlatch the helmet and throw it to the ground, revealing the thing to be a monster not Costela, also revealing there are more of these super soldier suits as well.

The thing threw Camenze to the ground and was about to strike when she moved like lightning and swung for his neck with her blade. But as luck would have it the things reflexes where superb and it blocked with exceptional skill and blinding speed. L’mek now seeing his moment now ran to take a shot at the things newly exposed neck but the thing just raised its leg and side kicked L’mek in the chest effectively Knocking him to the ground and the wind out of his chest.

He stood gasping for air and Camenze jumping back to take her own position where in flanking position. And L’mek knew this thing was better than them.

Originally posted on 21 December 2007 by L'Mek.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 2.5 License.