by Andrew Iddon
“This man here to my right is called Drake, and this creepy looking fellow to my left is Sabre”, he said.
They shook hands, exchanged proper introductions, and sat down. Greg stood in some awe and admiration of this rather unique yet impressive looking trio. Drake was a shorter man, however, quite burly and his tribal tattoos twisted and curled all up his arms only to vanish beneath his vest. He had long black hair tied into a ponytail, his arms and chest looked quite thick, despite his short height. His dark brown eyes squinted suspiciously at Greg, not knowing yet if he could trust an Imperial soldier. He stroked the bristly black goatee that covered most of his lower face with his thumb and finger, thinking to himself quietly.
Sabre, on the other hand, was a rather tall skulking man, not nearly as built as Vulture or Drake, yet still looked like he could take on a whole squad of Imperium soldiers, and win. He had the kind of psychotic felon, ex con murderer look about him. He wore a long grey cloak, with a large dark fedora hat, trying to conceal his face. The only things that Greg could see were Sabre’s large silver tinted eyes.
Greg was mesmerized as he and Sabre stared each other down, waiting for the other to blink. Vulture quickly broke the tension and began to give a quick synopsis of the trio, the three overlords of the Skullz Mercs.
“We aren’t normal men; you can clearly tell by Sabres eyes. There is a lot to us you don’t fully understand; you probably won’t believe us when we tell you but we might as well, to break the ice. First of all, my name is Vincent Slater; I am a Capricorn, and am sixty six years old”, Vulture stated.
Greg’s mouth dropped in disbelief, but Vulture continued, “Around thirty years ago, me and my two cohorts here were in the Federal Earth Conjugate army, right when it began its massive invasion of the Earth. The Admiral, Gerard Fedorov, who is now well over a hundred years old, was doing some experiments, not only on himself, but on his soldiers as well. He wanted to have better, faster, smarter, and stronger soldiers than his enemies; so he started the Ecclesia project. He had scientists working on a special type of technology to enhance human beings’ characteristics, such as strength and speed. He invented a steroid-like drug called Ecclesia Serum, which was pumped into our veins at an alarming rate. We were a select volunteer regiment of around one hundred men, who were outfitted with these mid-combat injector packs, from which we were to inject ourselves if we wanted to perform better. We did as we were told and it worked miracles! We stomped on any idiot who stood before us, and outran anyone who tried to catch us; but it wasn’t all fun.
Our bodies began to change; our minds began to bend and twist. We became addicted; whenever we were going through withdrawal, our hearts would begin to beat at dangerous rates, and our veins would bulge and glow. Many of us died of heart attacks, or from blood loss at exploding veins and arteries; the rest were deemed dangerous, and were to be hunted down.
We were manufactured by this drug to enhance specific skills; I gained extremely strong physical endurance, and became talented in martial arts, and marksman skills. Sabre, here, became an extraordinary swordsman, accurate with a throwing knife, and his eyes evolved like a nocturnal animal. He can see perfectly in the dark. However, he has to wear sunglasses even in a dimly lit room, or he will feel pain, and run the risk of going blind.
Drake, on the other hand, did not suffer serious negative side effects, but his strength endurance, and his brain most of all, evolved beyond normal human parameters. He became a pyromaniac, and can make a bomb out of toilet paper and a Popsicle stick if he put his mind to it.
We all gained supernatural inhuman powers, greater strength, speed, agility, and our special skills. However, we need a near constant supply of Ecclesia, or our bodies wither and die.
Thank God for Drake’s brain! He managed to memorize the schematics to an Ecclesia brewing tank, and managed to create one of his own. He also managed to make this handy Ecclesia auto injector attached to our hearts, through our body armor, so it gives a small trickle of it at a near constant rate. It keeps us alive and strong, and makes sure we don’t overdose. If humans take too much, their hearts beat too fast, and have tendencies to, well, explode. So, yep, we are on steroids constantly.
However, the negatives do not include our balls shrinking, thank Christ; we don’t age, and we never get sick. We are immune to aging and disease, but a bullet still hurts just as much, and, with a small push of a button, we get a little boost of serum to give us an edge.”
Greg listened like an eager school boy, an insane yet awesome story at the same time. He observed their chest packs, and they showed off a little of their special skills, keeping him entranced the whole time. He never thought he would see anything this crazy; never thought he would see demigod-like humans. A drug that makes humans immortal; what could come next?
Now he realized why the Admiral cancelled the program. It was too much for humans to handle. The Admiral probably witnessed that within himself. He took the drug, too; that must be why he was so ingenious, and was able to defeat the US government with astounding strategy. That is how he has lived to be over a hundred years old.
Greg was speechless, but who could lie about this? Who could make up a story that good? Vulture, Drake, and Sabre finished the demonstration, and Vulture reached under his desk, and pulled a large metal latch.
Greg jumped with alarm when the wall behind him began to shift, and the books on the shelf buckled together, and hid away in the dark of the wall. A secret entrance opened in front of them. The trio entered, and motioned Greg to follow.
It led them through a dark dusty hallway, and eventually to an elevator, which brought them deep underground. The doors opened, and Greg gaped in awe at the massive and grand sight he was having the pleasure of seeing first hand. He stared into a bustling, lively, underground star port, hundreds of people running around gathering equipment, working on vehicles, and such, all bearing the sharp iron skull emblem. This had to be the Skullz Mercenaries’ headquarters. Greg’s mission seemed to explode with significance and size. There was so much he didn’t know, so much for him to learn.
Greg explored the star port, observed the black market stores, and sales people. He saw all sorts of different people, and aliens of all different types, scurrying about like rats, trying to get their jobs done. He made his way through the crowds along with Vulture and his partners; everyone they passed stopped their activities, and gave a quick salute. He could see the respect that these people had for the trio; he could see how important they were to their cause.
Vulture was very modest, he never bragged about his power and his influence, never boasted at the fact that he managed to unite hundreds of people in this mini underground city. They continued through the extremely lively port, until they reached the main docks where Vulture’s personal battleship was parked for repairs.
There he stood, finally witnessing the legendary Bird of Prey, the one mercenary vessel that the Imperium taught their pilots to fear.
It was a magnificent spectacle; it was massive, with a shiny metallic hull which had many holes and scratches, indicating the countless battles it had survived. The silver paint with white emblems and stripes were marvelled by rival and friendly pilots alike, and the razor metallic skull emblem on the sides of the main hull was an intimidating sight.
They entered through the lowered ramp near the rear of the ship, and made their way through the complex and large ship’s insides towards the bridge. Drake sat down in the assistant pilot’s seat, and began turning knobs and pressing buttons. Greg didn’t much care for being a pilot; he figured it was too complicated. Sabre lay down on a couch near the window, and watched as the ship began to lift off the ground. Vulture sat on the large comfortable chair overlooking the entire piloting crew, a good two dozen men needed to operate the different speeds and balance systems, as well as the weapons, when the time called for it. Greg sat on the couch next to Sabre; the bridge was
really casual compared to the Imperial ships he was used to. Couches and a mini bar, fridges and heavy metal music, were nothing like the Imperial ships, where the chairs were uncomfortable, and nobody was in a relaxed mood.
The ship soared through the sky, and cut through the atmosphere like a knife. Greg was quite surprised to see such a ship have so much firepower, and still be so mobile and sleek. It was probably built to be fast, to help escape Imperium cruisers, or to help in smuggling.
It had been a long day, and Greg was getting quite fatigued; Vulture showed him to a spare room where he could rest. The bed was surprisingly comfortable, and as Greg lay down, and stretched his tired sore muscles, his entire body just sank into sleep.
Greg slept hard; this was a chance to get a lot of sleep, since the life of a soldier doesn’t allow or require much rest. Once his eyes closed, his mind left reality; strange images began to dance throughout his mind. It was an uncomfortable sleep, though his cot was cozy; he awoke with a jump, and was sweating quite heavily. He rubbed his eyes and stood up, examining the cold metal of the walls, and began gazing through the window into the vastness of the stars.
As he watched the stars wipe past his vision, he felt the ship slowing down, he lost his balance, and fell back onto his bed. He stumbled back up, and watched through the window once more. He saw a rather odd sight—large piles of debris.
There were shattered chunks of metal, bits and pieces of engines, and vehicles all strewn about this area of space. The large chunks of broken metal were still on fire, or were still freshly breaking apart from each other, showing signs of a recent battle. Greg had seen these sights many times, but he did not expect to see a space graveyard, as people began to call them, this far from any station or colony.
Greg quickly made his way back up to the bridge to find Vulture, Drake, and Sabre already pondering the sight themselves. He stood next to them, and stared as well. For some reason, he recognized the architecture of the debris. “Look at that piece of debris there, the clenched fist of the Imperium. This is an Imperium civilian immigration convoy,” said Greg dismally.
“This doesn’t make sense; there are no fleets nearby. This space graveyard looks fresh; some of the rubble is still on fire,” said Drake.
The Bird of Prey carefully manoeuvred into the maze of death and destruction, until they were through the other side. Everyone seemed to hold their breath, as they ventured into the graveyard.
After they escaped the maze, they came upon another sight which startled them. “Look, there is a fleet of ships heading north, could they be the culprits?” asked Vulture.
“No, it says UI on the side of that vessel there. That is a Universal Incorporated merchant fleet. No armaments, and since they are untouched, probably aren’t containing anything of importance,” replied Greg, confident in his trust in the Chairman.
“Maybe we should head down to Nuevo Mundo, and pay the Chairman a visit?” asked Vulture.
“That is a good plan. They must know what is going on; this graveyard is still in orbit. UI must know what is going on; it would be very irresponsible of them to allow murder such as this to take place inside their airspace,” said Greg.
The Universal Incorporated ships seemed in a hurry; they weren’t wasting any time heading in the other direction.
Greg and his party continued on to their objective destination, Nuevo Mundo, where they hoped the Chairman would be able to enlighten them with some well deserved answers.
CHAPTER 10
The Skullz flagship approached the surface, outside of NUCM airspace; it did not need any attention at the moment. It set down in a gorge hidden by tall cliff formations all around, impossible to be seen from the sky. The only entrance was through a tight cave-like path that wound through, and exited at the mouth of a large sandy valley. Trying to remain hidden, Vulture, Sabre, Drake, and Greg headed towards the capital city. They trudged across the dry, rough, sandy terrain leading towards the walls of Mandredar City, but when they got closer to the gate, they noticed smoke rising from the city’s innards. The group hurried towards the gate guard to question what was going on; they were surprised by the person they met. It was not an NUCM marine; it was a black and white camouflaged pattern clad Universal Incorporated security officer.
“What is going on here, officer?” asked Greg.
“What does it look like, sir? Universal Incorporated is taking over things here; we don’t need the marines of the New United Colonies of Mankind butting in on our business anymore. The Chairman has declared martial law on Mandredar city, and we have secured the area, since the NUCM forces pulled out,” replied the guard.
Vulture stood puzzled, and pulled Greg aside, as Sabre and Drake made small talk with the guard.
“Looks like it’s finally happened; the Chairman is finally making his move”, said Vulture.
Greg asked for clarification, and Vulture continued, “The Chairman has always had his security force, but he has also had a private army that he kept hidden under everyone’s noses. He became the galaxy’s richest man, starting from nothing; a local Slavorian arms dealer was the key to his rise in power. The Slavorian was the greatest arms dealer and criminal mastermind of the time, yet, as soon as the Chairman comes along, he goes bankrupt in thirty days. The Chairman isn’t normal, Greg; there is something about him that convinces people to do what he wants. There were rumours that he had psychic powers, and was able to control people’s minds into giving him their assets. The Slavorian handed over his entire company, and all its assets and technology, for an insulting price. The Chairman owned the city within three months after that. He established Universal Inc, and started hiring outside muscle, to take out the competition. Instead of buying most of his rivals out, he used his private army to physically take them out, and then would seize the spoils for himself. Then he made his army public on Nuevo Mundo, having his soldiers and security officers bear the Universal Incorporated emblems. Looks like, after all these years, he’s taking matters into his own hands.”
Greg listened, stoutly believing every word, yet not sure why the Chairman would rebel against the Imperium. There is no way he could muster up a strong enough army to face the entire Imperium.
Greg asked the guard, “Why is the Chairman doing this? Why is he rebelling against the Imperium now?”
The guard simply stopped, eyes widening as he raised his arm and pointed at the sky, “That’s why.”
Not a moment later the sky grew dark; the sun seemed to disappear, even though it was almost noon. Greg and the rest of the guys turned and stared into the sky to see a truly extraordinary sight. There was a fleet of black ships, as far as the eye could see; thousands upon thousands of ships and vessels flooding the sky like the darkness of night. Greg gasped at the sight; he began to tear up at the mere magnificence, and the feelings he was getting because of what he was seeing. There were some of the largest battleships he had ever laid eyes upon; the Imperium battle cruisers seemed like ants compared to these.
The Universal guard turned, and ran through the depths of the city, abandoning his post. Alarms began to sound, and a group of soldiers came into sight. They grabbed the four very confused men, and brought them to the Universal Incorporated headquarters building, the Chairman’s tower.
They escorted them to the Chairman’s office, and sat them down on chairs and boxes strewn about the room. Everything seemed to be disorganized, like a makeshift military base had been formed in the city, and in the tower itself.
Greg walked towards the window, and stared back up into the black abyss above. He could not sit and talk; at this moment his heart was full of fear. He looked at the ships in the sky, staring at their terrifying size and armaments; each ship seemed like its own flying fortress. So many ships!
Greg grew really angry with himself. How could the Imperium not have seen this coming? A fleet this size should have been detected
a long time ago, and why couldn’t he have found out the answers sooner? He stared at the emblem on the sides of the ships, trying to recognize what it was. Something about it seemed extremely familiar, but he just could not put his mind on it. Vulture came up to the window and immediately recognized the symbol; he muttered under his breath just loud enough for everyone to hear, “It’s a swastika.”
There it was, on the side of the ships, a large black swastika, inside a white circle encased inside a red flag-like rectangle, the emblem of the Nazi Regime. Drake and Sabre hobbled up next to the shocked and intimidated Universal Incorporated employees, and began to whisper amongst them.
The Chairman got up from his chair, and leaned against the window with one arm, sighing with disappointment.
“Wow, after all these years, after so much hard work erasing even the mere mention of them… they are back. You couldn’t even have a hint of Nazi memorabilia in your possession without the whole world bearing down on you.
How could they gain power again? The Imperium should have known this; they should have seen a force like this long ago. I knew something like this would happen, so I had to take matters into my own hands. The NUCM garrison scattered; they fled in fear when the supreme chancellor came onto the billboards. We had to take control of the city, and the NUCM troops were in the way”, he stated.
Greg looked at the Chairman with concern; the Chairman killed his comrades, his fellow citizens, his allies, human beings. He swelled with anger, but then realized the Chairman’s motive. He had done a good job in securing the city; they may even be able to hold their ground, if they played their cards right.
At this point, a terrifying sound rang throughout the building; it came from the fleet, and made its way through the streets like a possessed spectre. It was music; it seemed to originate from one ship in the middle of the dark mess of battleships in the sky. “That must be the flagship”, Greg said.
The rest of the men in the room nodded and murmured in agreement. A beeping sound interrupted their trance; it was the Chairman’s hologram communicator.