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The young girl walked quietly down the main street, avoiding the puddles formed by yesterday’s rain and the piles of excrement from today’s animals. She was late for school and knew she would be punished for that. Her older brother Arn waved at her as she passed by the guard house where he was standing in his bright new uniform. Even he looked handsome in it.

Arn saw his little sister skip away, her trilling laughter lightening somewhat his dreary day. Turning eighteen was special for a number of reasons, but to him the greatest part was the fact it meant that he was called for military service. Everyone did the basic training early and with the almost perpetual state of war, no-one missed out.

Soon they would be marched to the front, where he too could die in the name of the Emperor. That was, he had been told, the greatest blessing a man could receive.

A growing noise impinged on his consciousness. It was unusual in that it was a strange roaring, as though some wild animal had been chained against its will. At first he though it came from behind him, but then was unsure. He squinted, his hand shading his eyes from the sun, as movement drew his attention. Black shapes, high in the sky. They too were growing. Birds never got that big, did they?

Soon he realised that these were no birds. Their wings were straight, almost stubby and their heads sparkled as the sun reflected off them. They were metal! He raised his rifle, fumbling with the paper cartridge. Biting off the end, Arn poured the powder and ball into the muzzle and tamped it down. Taking careful aim, he saw others rushing out beside him, mirroring his actions. The bawl of his sergeant as he dressed the men into line, made him smile. Arn fired.

In slow motion the things turned, diving down towards him. Musket fire crackled now, yet seemed to have no effect, the things turning again and rising, flame spouting from their rears. On their sides was painted a strange emblem. Nothing known to him. Then they were gone.

Sergeant Price patted him on the back and praised his vigilance. He also bulled up their success in chasing the devils away, yet Arn knew that they had not caused even the slightest of damage. It was as he was hanging his head that he noticed the puddle of water near him. Ripples shivered outwards from its centre, as though something heavy had been dropped nearby. Then he felt it.

A metronomic beat, as though giant feet marked time on the ground. He heard the scream of his sister and rushed forward, standing in shock and horror by her side. Enormous. Gigantic. A demon stood before them. No rifles were raised in response, people fleeing in panic. Arn took his sister’s hand in his, and waited to die.

*

Arn and his sister had been passed by, the huge monster striding over them with oblivious ease. He had hurried her away in the direction of their home, intending to leave her there and find his unit. His rifle he carried with him, the Sergeant’s constant reminder of death following its loss having been ingrained in his mind throughout his basic training. When he reached their humble dwelling, he found his parents hurrying to load their belongings on a small cart.

“Where are you going?” he asked, as he handed his sister into the care of his mother.

“Away from here,” mumbled his father, “your aunt and uncle have a nice house in the city. They’ve been on at us to join them for a long time. This seems to be the right moment.”

“We have to fight,” said Arn incredulously, “the Emperor…”

“Is not here!” snapped his father, “now are you coming, or not?”

“Not!” said Arn stubbornly, “I will stay and protect our things from the demons, as should a soldier of the Emperor.”

“Fool,” sneered his father, and then more gently, “you know where to find us. It will take us a day or so to reach the city. We will look for you there.”

A hug from his mother, a handshake from his father and a tearful kiss from his little sister were his last remembrance of them. He watched as the handcart was dragged protestingly away, then he squared his shoulders, checked his ammunition and ran towards the sound of musket fire, which crackled lamely in the distance.

A slow, steady stream of refugees continued down the main road into the valley below. They were a mix of men and women on foot, belongings bundled together and carried on heads, in hands or in satchels. Weaving in between were those lucky enough to own a horse or mule which could do their owners work. At the rear handcarts piled high with the accumulation of a poor lifetime trundled wearily.

It was within this final group that Arn’s family plodded slowly along. His sister gambolled happily beside her parents, blissfully ignorant of their predicament. No-one was away of the eyes which watched greedily from a nearby hillside until it was far too late, lost as they were in their own misery.

The drumming of hoofbeats on the packed earth broke into their reverie and soon cries of fear could be heard. People cast away their personal items, trampled over each other or even just huddled together in desperation. Demons were one thing, but the Emperor’s cavalry was a more well known evil.

*

Julius Aquilla had waited eagerly for the majority of his prey to enter the killing ground. He had studied them carefully through his spyglass, ensuring that there were few weapons and even fewer fighting men before he gave the order to charge. In one long line, his men had begun to walk their horses, sabres drawn and resting against their shoulders. Pistols would be a waste on these vermin and the hot red bodily fluid a prize to be won.

A sharp command brought them to a canter, then a trot as they neared the bottom slopes of the hill. Once on level ground the charge was ordered in earnest. Knee to knee they thundered down on their helpless victims. Soon their chilling battle-cry could be heard and the slaughter began.

As one they slammed into the column, the weight of their charge bowling their victims over, where they were trampled under foot. Bright slivers of metal flashed in the sun as they rose and fell in methodical butchery. Blood rained down from high, as the upsweep of their blades sprayed a rich red harvest. Those who escaped the first carnage ran blindly away and were subjected to the whooping howl of the hunt.

At a full run, the horsemen bore down on them. Sabres sliced, imparting awful wounds in back and face, as the men rose in their saddles to deliver their cuts. Time and again they wheeled back, driving their prey before them and allowing all to enjoy their sport.

Arn’s father had fallen early, his staff raised in a vain attempt to protect his family. Aquilla’s blade had shorn through the ineffective wood and cleaved open the man’s skull. His mother lasted a little longer, holding her little girl in her arms as she ran, but to no avail. The General wanted no survivors, no witnesses to bleat of the injustice delivered to them. He laughed as he killed and his men joined in.

Once the main chase was done, they dismounted to deliver the coup de grace with knife or pistol, leaving none alive. Finally, General Julius Aquilla gave the order to mount, leading his men slowly away laughing and joking as they went.

*

There were no survivors, yet there were two distinct sets of witnesses. A small band of men had stayed hidden under cover and watched the massacre. They had not tried to help, their orders had been clear on that fact. Teeth were ground in frustration and terrible oaths sworn, yet none disobeyed their orders. As the General led his men away, they waited a small time and then sought out their own horses.

The second witness was a remote spycam, many miles high, which diligently recorded the events. It was mindless, so did not know the importance to one, even now held within the bowels of the ship which spawned it. Instead it continued on its way, transmitting data which would later be studied on board the distant warship.

*

The strange cord sat uncomfortably on Arn’s wrist. He stared at the three distinct turns and toyed with them idly. Elana, the Elemental as she called herself was speaking, her leader Lieutenant Jax had left them with her a while ago, and attempted to explain the honour they had been done. It seemed as though their futile stand had impressed these Dark Falcons and had helped them, and others, become slaves. She had sneered at Arn’s denouncement of his staus and continued to indicate that they were now recognised as part of the Dark Falcon Clan. No matter how hard he tried, Arn could not recognise that he had been done any favour.

A sharp tug on his new tunic dragged him back to the present. The enormous woman had twisted her hand into the cloth and now lifted him easily to his feet.

“You will listen,” she snarled, “there is no room for melancholy. I expect you to continue to show the courage and dedication already demonstrated. Failure will not be tolerated.”

Arn beat futilely against her arm, bruising his fist against the hardened exterior. Terror struck him, as he realised that beneath his knuckles was no flesh. She tossed him aside and peeled back the sleeve of her jacket.

“Yes, my frightened child. Some of us have already given of ourselves to our Clan. Willingly we will give more.”

There was a proud fanaticism in her words and as he struggled to his feet, Arn wondered again at where these people had come from. The Emperor would deal with them eventually, he thought, and then remembered the ineffectual sound of his musket balls against their armoured figures. Doubt crept in, but he had been well-schooled, and fought his worry with defiance.

“You will be sorry when the Emperor finds out what you have done. Even now, I am sure that his strongest troops will be rushing to our aid. They will rescue us and defeat you.”

Elana laughed, “Unless your vaunted Emperor can fly, there is little possibility of reaching us.”

“You’ll see,” shouted Arn, “our army will respond and crush you.”

“I think that your re-education needs to begin immediately. Follow me, all of you.”

The ten men obeyed, some more sullenly than others. Two guards followed behind him, their rifles held easily in their hands. It was a strange sight, the crisp new coveralls they had been given hung off them as they shuffled along. They wore no chains, but behaved almost as though they were shackled together. Their journey ended after they had entered a small room, which contained a number of lighted buttons on one side. Packed together they were hurled upwards and groans escaped from them. This was a new and terrifying experience.

Abruptly they stopped and doors slid open. Stumbling forwards, they found themselves in a large open space, on whose walls were banked metal objects. Sat in front of them were men and women, whose hands flew across a flat object and who seemed to be talking to themselves. Elana made straight towards one who was seated on a slightly raised dais.

“Elias,” she said peremptorily, “I need to see the information received yesterday.”

“Which information would that be?” asked the man, laughingly, “Could you be a little more specific? It would help you know.”

There was a sharp intake of breath from amongst Arn’s group, but Elana just smiled.

“You have been spending far too much time with the Lieutenant,” she growled, “I refer to the incident in the valley.”

The man’s face darkened and he looked more closely at the group before him, before speaking.

“Is that wise?” he asked cautiously.

“Imperative,” she answered.

“Very well,” Elias said, “I will put in on the central holo-screen.”

Elana nodded in thanks and in an almost gentle manner, shooed her charges towards a flat glass-topped table.

“Recording running...” a voice intoned, and Arn began to witness not just the death of his family, his village, but of all of his close cherished beliefs.

*

Jax entered the room and watched the ashen faces of the young men. Their bond cords stood out starkly against their weathered skin and the dark cloth of their new coveralls. Some started to weep, yet on the face of one he saw a cold and terrible anger. He had learnt some of their names and this young man, Arn, had been the most vociferous in his belief in the godliness of his Emperor. Now though, he looked ready to kill.

“Listen to me,” Jax said softly, “what you have seen here is a shock and no doubt, has shaken the very foundations of your beliefs. I will make you a promise, here and now. Join with us wholeheartedly and I will give you the means to exact retribution. We, in the Dark Falcons, will be your family. Your enemy will become our enemy. No slight, however small, against you will be forgiven or forgotten. This man, no this thing hidden beneath flesh and blood, will be wiped from the face of this planet. You have my word.”

“I will join you!” snarled Arn, leaping to his feet.

“Wait,” Jax said quietly, “until you have heard everything. We have our own battle to fight, others of our family in great need. When we leave this world, to journey back to our own, you will come with us. Understand what it means to be a Dark Falcon, the Clan comes before all else. No-one will be left behind.”

“What do I do?” asked Arn, “I am ready to swear my allegiance.”

The others rose, one by one, murmuring their agreement, as Jax reached for his belt knife.

“It will not be easy,” he said motioning Arn forward, “you will be given into the care of Elana here. She will bring you up to speed and will spare no-one’s blushes. If you are found worthy, you will be welcomed into our warrior caste.”

“And if not?” one of Arn’s companions asked, a frightened tone in his voice.

“You will be found a place amongst us, do not fear,” Jax continued, placing his blade under the first twist of the bond cord on Arn’s wrist. With a quick motion he cut through it and turned to the next.

“Welcome,” he said to each of them in turn, “listen to what Elana has to say and show you and you will succeed.” Then he grinned evilly, “Ignore her and not even I can save you!”

*

General Aquilla’s boots clacked on the marble flooring as he strode towards the Emperor’s chambers. He was still flushed with the excitement of his work. To him, there was nothing wrong with his actions and he had no doubt that his Emperor would agree with him.

Two guards moved away from the ornate double doors which led into the chamber and announced him, before quickly standing aside. A courtier sprayed him with scented water, as the stench of horse, sweat and blood crossed the fop’s nostrils. Aquilla glared at him and the man scurried away. When I hold the reins of power, he thought, that one will be one of the first to feel my ire.

He grinned at the thought and moved on, towards the ornate throne and the distasteful fawning he would need to do. Not for much longer, though. No, not for much longer at all.

*

Ioin Kearney sat around the campfire. He had returned with the small patrol and recounted all of the terrible massacre they had witnessed. His leader’s response had been non-committal, as though none of the villagers’ lives had been worth a damn. Ioin knew that they were followers of the cursed Emperor, but still, women and children. It was not right.

As a man, how could he accept to stand idly by? He knew that others felt the same way, yet none spoke out. The sharp reprimand he had received had only served to fuel his determination. Prisoners taken in the mountains had spoken of the demons and their horrible powers. To seek them out and kill them, now that was a task for a man.

Kearney spat into the fire, his decision made. Tomorrow, he would ask permission. His mind made up, he rolled himself in his blanket and laid down to sleep.

Above on the hillside, a dark figure watched. His infra-red sensors showed him the men below, as though it was full daylight. Lieutenant Jax had ordered Hans to find these rebels and test their metal. He had not been impressed with their refusal to try and save even one of the villagers. Hans had pointed out the men who had argued, who had tried to rise, but had been pulled back to the earth. It was for this intervention, he had been tasked with this visit.

“Find yourself and the Dark Falcons some men,” Jax had said and Hans had accepted the challenge gladly. He spoke quietly into his headset and stood. His men appeared on his sensors as small blips as they descended towards the campsite. Hans grinned to himself as he thought of the surprise they were about to spring. Checking through his weapons, he received confirmation that his squad was in place and gave the order to fire.

*

Kearney was rudely woken from his sleep. Hot embers from the fire had been turned into charcoal shrapnel by the exploding missile. Hans’ man had aimed true; direct casualties were minimal, although the whistling chunks of flame burned many. Gasping for breath, his ears still ringing from the weapon’s impact, Ioin looked around frantically for the source of the sorcerous noise. He found it.

Leaping and bounding down the hill towards him, came a group of what could only be demons. Their matt black bodies gave off the dull reflection of metal and from their arms speared forth intense beams of light. Whatever it touched flamed into inexistence. Suddenly, Kearney felt cowed, how had he ever thought that he could kill one of these things.

Fear turned into anger as he drew his pistol and fired at the nearest. The ball struck was harmlessly brushed away. In desperation he called to his men and set off at a flat run towards the main tent. Positioned there was a mobile field piece, perhaps the only thing that could be used against this these creatures. He was gratified to see his squad rushing towards him, many in a state of undress, yet discipline remained.

The first there, he tried to manhandle the unwieldy weapon around, but it was only when Black Conn, his huge wildly bearded second-in-command, reached him that the job became easier. He screamed at his men to load and prime the weapon, glad that its flintlock firing mechanism would make things easier. At last it was ready and he ordered everyone back. Conn followed his instructions, centring its barrel on the largest of the fleet monsters. With a wild cry he fired it and was momentarily blinded by its muzzle flash. When he could see again, the monster was gone.

Loud cheers quickly became groans as they saw the demon rise from the floor, a smoking dent visible in its chest. Its arm turned towards them and a pure beam of energy licked out and touched the gun’s barrel, melting the metal as though it were a child’s toy.

“To me!” screamed Kearney, pulling free his sword and running towards the thing. Not one of his men failed him, even when the monster spoke.

“My turn, now,” its voice was deep, stentorian and it walked purposefully forward.

Kearney was the first to reach it and swung his sword. There was a clang as it struck, the rebound of the blow numbing his hand and causing it to fall. Conn swung a huge pole at it, Kearney realising that it was the tool used to load the cannon, just as it snapped in two over the demon’s skull.

With one swing of its arm, the thing swept Conn aside and moved to grasp him, a fusillade of rifle fire ignored as it’s strange metal hand reached down. Ioin leapt on its back, burning his hand as he hung on. He heard a throaty chuckle, just before he rose into the air, flames spurting under his feet.

*

Hans was confident that he had found his men. The big one was almost of a size to be called an Elemental. Even though he had tapped him hard with his power claw, the gigantically muscled man was struggling to his feet. He jumped higher, the young leader still clinging to his back, and ordered another missile strike. The projectile weapon had been a surprise and he assumed that he would have some bruises in the morning. Wary of any other unexpected weaponry, he decided to play safe.

Two SRM’s were enough. They pounded the ground in the centre of the encampment, shooting brick and earth high into the air. Machine guns were then used to shatter the rest of any defiance and Hans’ boomed demand for surrender was soon complied with. The only one who ignored him and still tried to reach him with a sword, was the black-bearded giant below.

Hans grinned. At least there would be one or two worth breaking. He cut his jets, dropping to the ground with a jarring crash. Ioin fell senselessly to the floor, next to Conn, who he had been knocked down once more. As the blackness rolled over him, he cursed his desire to search the demons out. It seemed that someone had been listening.

Elana stood in front of the thirty or so young men before her. They had formed into two rough groups, holding to their previous allegiances. She needed to break them, before giving them a new identity and it would start now. Without speaking, she began to draw a rough circle in the bare earth.

Jax had picked this mountain retreat as a suitable base. A high-walled fortress sat on the side of the mountain, with a winding rough stone road leading up to it. Apparently it had belonged to some ancient robber and when they had arrived had been in ruins. Dark Falcon Techs had reduced the unusable buildings to rubble and erected temporary acommodation as well as reinforcing the walls. A flat landing site had been prepared and Elana and her people had been brought here by shuttle. Now, laser emplacements protected the only road and a large banner fluttered in the breeze, above the main gates.

“You,” she began, “are scum. Unworthy to be called Dark Falcons. Perhaps one or two of you have something within worthy of the name, but I am not sure. Lieutenant Jax believes so and because of that, I am willing to waste some of my valuable time on you.”

She stepped out of the rough circle and nodded to Hans who had been assigned to this training detail. He now stomped forward, towering above the new bondsmen, and carried on where Elana had left off.

“This,” he said, “is a Circle of Equals. All disputes will be settled within it. Any failure to obey this basic rule will be dealt with severely. Now, I have seen some of you try to fight and to be truthful have been little impressed. As an example to you all, I assume that there are those amongst who disagree with me? Well within this Circle you may prove your point.”

He laid down his weapons, divesting himself of his pistol and knife. Then he removed his tunic and stood, bare-chested before them. There was a murmur of appreciation at his hugely muscled frame, which was silenced by a furious glare from Elana.

“What,” she sneered, as none stepped forward, “is there no honour amongst your kind? It seems that I was right. Worthless surats!”

Kearney’s group parted and the burly figure of Conn pushed his way through. He too removed his tunic and received encouraging pats from his companions.

“Are there any rules?” asked Ioin as he massaged the back of the big man’s neck.

“Ah, yes,” said Elana, “Hans, you may not kill him.”

Hans smiled and nodded, beckoning Conn forward. He was caught off guard by Conn’s speed. A right hand flashed out, smashing his head back and was followed by a terrific hook to his mid-section. A grunt of pain slipped out as the blow landed, but he avoided the stomp to his kneecap. Rubbing his stomach gingerly he circled away and was ready for the next attack.

Kearney’s men were cheering in encouragement and even Arn felt some respect for the huge rebel. What happened next was almost too quick to follow. As Conn struck, Hans moved inside the blow catching the trailing wrist and dragging his opponent down as he twisted. The momentum of the movement drew Conn’s face level with Hans’ knee, which rose to meet it. There was a crunch of bone and Conn’s head slammed backwards as blood sprayed out.

Letting go off the man’s wrist, Hans stepped back and drove his front foot deep into his opponent’s stomach. With a whoosh of escaping air, Conn doubled over exposing his neck to Hans’ elbow strike.

“Hans!” cautioned Elana and he changed his blow. He had time to recover from the killing strike. A step to the side, a swivel of his hips and his fist cleanly clipped Black Conn behind the ear. His feet slid out from underneath and he crashed unconscious to the floor.

Elana picked up a handily placed bucket of water and tossed it over Conn, who roused spluttering and swinging his hands wildly. She easily picked him up, avoiding his flailing fists and pushed him into his comrades’ arms.

“A good start,” she said and then turned to Arn, “you are next.”

Arn nodded and stripped off his tunic. He wanted someone to fight and although he had seen the punishment meted out to Conn, did not care. Anger washed over him, yet he controlled it, his fury ice-cold. Jeers and cat-calls came from the rebels, but ne merely pushed them out of his mind.
He was leanly muscled, working in the fields with his father every day, before joining the army. His mother said he followed more in the footsteps of his grandfather and Arn smiled in remembrance of the old man.

Hans grinned at him, “Confident are we?”

There was no reply and Hans narrowed his eyes. This one would not waste his breath, he reminded him of Kahn Sheehan. The same cold gaze and determined set of features. For the first time, a flutter of worry entered the Elemental’s mind, but was quickly banished.

“Finish it quickly,” said Elana, “we have work to do.”

Again this was accompanied by jeers and as Hans looked to Elana, Arn struck. His back leg swept round, taking the full torque of his body in its movement. It slammed against Hans’ ribs, the toe of his boot striking the same place as Conn’s blow. He smashed his forearm into the big man’s temple as the first blow landed, staggering him.

Reflexively, Hans’ huge arms circled him, pulling Arn forward. It gave Hans a brief respite and he shoved Arn away, sending short, sharp jabs into the young man’s face. Now it was Arn’s turn to reel drunkenly and one smashing right dropped him to one knee. He rolled away before Hans could land the next punch, staggering to his feet. Arn shook his head to clear and almost missed the Dark Falcon’s next punch. Had it landed, it would have all been over. As it was, Arn ducked his head and took the blow on the top of his skull. Even so, his vision began to blacken.

He snarled and leapt at Hans, his surprise attack letting him inside the big man’s guard. A right to the face and a left to the body, pushed Hans back to the edge of the circle. As Arn drew his leg back to strike, Hans swept his back leg away, slamming him to the floor. One knee pressed gently against Arn’s neck cutting off his air supply. He snarled in frustration and tried to rise. Hans looked across at Elana and seeing her stern face, hit the young man cleanly.

The same treatment was given to Arn, yet the most unusual thing to happen was when Black Conn pushed his stunned companions aside and helped Arn to his feet.

“He almost had me,” said Hans in quiet voice to Elana.

“I know,” she replied, “interesting, no?”

General Aquilla yawned and stretched lazily. He had slept well, the last of his forces arriving early in the morning. All of the troops were bedded down and he only waited for his commanders to join him. Not that much further planning was needed, as he had spent months organising the disposition of his forces in his head. His stay in the city had also served him well. Each defensive position had been studied and their weaknesses identified.

Idly, he picked at some fruit, as he studied the simple map laid out before him. The main gate would be his target. Although in appearance it was the strongest position, years of neglect had meant that its stoutness was questionable. Insects had attacked the wood and laziness its defenders.

Buildings had been constructed more to house the Emperor’s growing army of courtiers and slaves, rather than with thought for a potential attack. Still through, the main thoroughfare had been left open. It was a well-paved and glorious route which led directly to the palace itself. He would change things once he had made his last triumphal entrance to the city as a General, that was certain.

The sound of men’s voices signalled the arrival of his subordinates and with a wry smile, General Julius Aquilla opened his tent flap and welcomed them inside.

*

Jax stared at the holo-image before him. Elias had been monitoring the troop movements outside the Imperial city and it was obvious, that this morning would bring unwelcome visitors. He had, at first, thought about using an alliance with the Emperor as a means of consolidating the Dark Falcons position on this world. Apart from rest and recreation, they needed a base for recruitment and resupply. Their rapid exit from known space had left them with extremely limited resources.

The jumpship itself, was even now being repaired as was the destroyer which had been docked specifically for that purpose. FedCom personnel had been re-educated and were now working alongside their ex-enemies. Still, with only five Omnifighters, twenty suits of working battle armour and three Mechs, they were particularly short-handed.

Mechs, he thought, well they resembled the huge machines in shape and structure, but were units taken out of frontline service and their pilots were even now still recovering from their injuries, suffered during their attack on the jumpship near Winfield. They desperately needed more personnel and he was sure that the new training camp would bear fruit.

These men would be trained initially to fight as a unit with autorifles and crew-served weapons. Elias was confident that he could manufacture powered armour, but that would take time and resources. In the meantime, they would have to conserve their more advanced weaponry until they really needed it.

Jax had no intention of striking out for known space, until he had a full complement of men and weapons. So, he leaned over the image again and studied the ground described there. They could not afford for the city and its technology, however weak compared to theirs, to be destroyed.

Unfortunately, he could not yet intervene fully without expending valuable resources.

The irony of the incident at the training base did not escape him. He would sit by and watch this assault take place. Not through weakness, but rather through necessity. His priority was the Dark Falcons and returning them to fight at their Khan’s side. Everything else must come a poor second.

Gaius Augustus stared in mute disbelief at the demon as he mounted the steps to the throne. He still found it hard to credit the wild stories brought to his ears, but here was one of the creatures in the flesh. It was armoured in black with a curious emblem on its left shoulder; a stylised bird in black on green. Another two stomped into the room, turning to face outwards their arms held at chest height.

The first stopped in front of him, its facial covering reflected the overblown face before it. A deep rumbling bass voice rolled out, seeming as though it materialised from thin air.

“I would normally expect a thank you, for what we have done here today,” said Jax, “but having seen the deplorable manner in which you treat your people, it will no doubt not be forthcoming.”

The speech was archaic, stilted, yet understandable and Gaius reacted in his usual manner.

“Who are you to...”

The roaring stutter of Jax’s machine gun shattered the silence. Chips of marble ricocheted round the room as the once powerful Emperor squealed in terror. His hands covered his sparse pate as he mewled in terror, whilst his courtier fainted.

“Don’t interrupt. It’s rude.” Said Jax flatly, “Now where was I? Oh, yes. We have intervened because we could not stand by and watch the needless slaughter of your people. Even now, my troops are dealing with the remains of your attacker’s forces and then we will be taking over your city.

“As of now, martial law is in effect. A curfew will be set and we will enforce it strictly. I wish to meet with your leading council members, or whatever you call them immediately.”

The Emperor began to cry and in disgust, Jax turned to the now recovering courtier.

“You,” he said, will...”

Any comment he had to make was cut short, as the poor fell back to the floor, shaking with terror.

“Elias,” said JAx into his transmitter, “I need you and your team down here quickly. We have an awful lot of work to do.”

*

Elana watched as her recruits attempted to traverse the newly constructed assault course. Others had been brought to the training camp and she had split them into five teams of eight. By far the team showing the greatest promise was that led by Arn. They were an even mix of old enemies and had gelled quickly after the death of Kearney. Black Conn had immediately fallen into his new role of second-in-command to Arn, and none dared dispute his authority. The others were responding well, but she sensed something in the determined face of Arn and was accelerating their training.

Hans continued to try and beat them into submission, both physically and mentally and they were pushed the hardest of all. She had heard from Jax of his intervention in the city and approved wholeheartedly. They needed a solid base of operations, although from all reports the city was in a poor state of repair and would not be easy to defend.

The roar of an approaching engine announced the arrival of the shuttle, with a new cargo of fresh meat for her own particular grinder. It appeared that Jax had already been hard at work, selecting those he thought had potential. Her barked order brought the recruits from their exercise. They ran and formed two lines near the rear of the craft. As the door opened and ex-soldiers of the Emperor disembarked, the jeers and cat-calls began. This tunnel of shame was only the first of many indignities that would be heaped upon them. Well, if it did not kill them...

Wind howled past his face as Arn poked his head out of the shuttle’s cargo door. If he had been impressed by the laser rifle he had been given, then this machine had stunned him. He had seen it fly a number of times, but apart from his time as a prisoner and then recruit, he had never travelled in it. Behind him, his squad were checking over their new weapons, body armour and communications equipment. What had seemed like sorcery only a few weeks before, was now accepted as common place.

Their black combat fatigues still looked new and shiny, but that was not through lack of effort in dirtying them. Arn thought it was rather due to the presence of Black Conn, who had adopted him and by default the rest of the squad. The fight with their Elemental leader Hans had instilled respect in the men, yet it was Arn’s battle they remembered with pride.

None now wore the cord of Bondsmen and instead sported the Dark Falcon badge on the left shoulder of their tunics. It seemed that the distinctions between them had also disappeared, and in that the tenets of Clan life had been beneficial. He heard the clump of Han’s armoured feet behind him and turned.

“We are nearing the next search area,” said Hans, “Elias is convinced that this is the one.”

Arn laughed, “Again? That’s the third sure thing in a row.”

Hans joined in with his laughter for a moment and then became more serious, “Elias is almost always right and he is looking nervous about these readings. Make sure you are ready for any eventuality.”

With a grunted affirmative, Arn moved back to join his men, a bad feeling settling into the pit of his stomach.
*

The shuttle passed over a small mountain range and began its descent to the pre-chosen landing site. It was a cautious landing, Elias scanning the area with his equipment before finally giving the green light for a landing. He was thorough, as was his want, and used a full range of spectrum analysis in his search for the mysterious energy readings.

Deep inside the mountain, a small light began to blink. It was housed inside a metal cabinet and faded almost to inexistence before becoming stronger. Others joined it, at first timidly and then whole-heartedly. Cabinet after cabinet shone brilliantly, machines began to whirr and the mountain woke from it slumber.

“Frak!” cursed Elias as his readings screamed at him, “Get us out of here!”

“What?” asked the astonished pilot.

“Just do it!” shouted Elias as the surface of the mountain began to shudder with the awakening of the beast within in. It was then that the pilot’s own alarms began to squeal furiously and he turned an astonished face to the almost apoplectic Elias, “Freebirth!” he cursed, “We are being scanned, and....someone has a lock on us. A...missile lock!”

*

The now self-acclaimed Emperor Julius was in his private quarters, admiring himself in his new finery when the officer rushed in, babbling. He calmly raised his hand and struck the fool across the mouth stopping him in mid-tirade.

“Is this how you approach your Emperor?” he snapped as the man wiped a small trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth.

“No,” he replied, dropping to one knee and bowing his head, “forgive me, please, but the news is so great, that I forgot myself.”

“Speak, then,” said Julius, “but remember that your life perhaps hangs now on a thread. This had better be worth it.”

“They’ve woken,” he said, turning a beaming face to his new Emperor, “as was foretold, the Gods have woken!”

*

“What is it?” asked Hans, as Elias frantically punched buttons on his terminal.

“An automated Defence System,” replied the Tech, “very old and seemingly tetchy. It is trying to communicate with us, but I think that we are only going to get one chance at confirmation, before it attacks us.”

“Well punch in the right code then,” said Hans dismissively.

“There is where we have our problem,” said Elias, “I have absolutely no idea what the correct code is...”

Awesome!

Thankin' you, good sir

Here's the next part


Julius, as had many others, ignored the tales of the Gods. He had always looked at the black boxes within the various palaces as nothing more than baubles with which to impress the superstitious. Even the stories had mainly been relegated to children’s games or  wrapped up into village folklore. Gaius had removed the boxes from their points of veneration within the Imperial palace and had them destroyed. Somehow, this more backward palace had been overlooked.

Now though, he was having an epiphany. The matt black box sparkled with a myriad of racing lights and his men kneeled in adoration before it. A strange voice crackled into existence and Julius almost joined his men, but restrained the urge to crash to the floor by their side.

“Unidentified craft detected. Permission to execute Emperor Protocol requested...”

The voice stalled and then started again, repeating the same phrase over and over again. Emperor Aquilla noticed his men watching him and spoke to the strange flashing object.

“This is Emperor Julius Aquilla, who are you?”

“Voice pattern match not accepted,” said the voice, “please confirm execution of Emperor Protocol...”

“I am the Emperor,” shouted Julius, “you will obey me!”

“Voice pattern corrupted,” replied the disembodied voice, “implementation of Defence Protocol Alpha Two Three Zero will initiate in Three, Two, One...”

All lights ceased to flash and their Gods died before them.

*


The pilot had moved them further from the mountain itself, before dropping Hans and his squad to earth. Elias joined them and they cautiously approached on foot.

Seismic action rocked the surrounding earth, knocking men from their feet with its violent action.

“Earthquake?” asked Hans.

“Not exactly,” replied Elias, “Look!”

From the top of the mountain four metallic objects pushed forth. They were in a rough square and began to shine in the reflected sunlight. Higher and higher they rose, their tapering points spearing skywards. With a final rumble they locked into place and a low hum could be heard.

“This is Jax,” the voice broke into Hans’ headset, “What is going on? Our sensors report major seismic activity in your area.”

“You would not believe us...” said an astonished Elias.

“Oh, I think that I might,” answered Jax, “That is if you were to tell me it had something to do with the distress beacon that has just activated.”

“Distress beacon?” now Elias was surprised.

“That is what we believe it to be,” Jax said, “it is a constant pulse and directed on a tight beam.”

“What are your orders?” broke in Hans.

“Shut off the signal, any way that you can. I am sending you reinforcements as we speak and have been appraised of the potential threat of missile attack.”

“Would not this help us in getting back to Winfield?” queried Elias.

“Perhaps,” said Jax, “but we have no idea to whom this signal is being sent, nor who might answer it. We must shut it off...before it’s too late.”