We Need a Deathworlder!

Chak feels the world around her shift into something almost entirely different in an instant. Gravity, scent, temperature, light and sounds all change as though she’s emerging from blacking out. Yet although her bodily response is to immediately feel ill from the unexpected sensation, she is anything but distracted in her unfaltering goal.

Her father stamped in a slouch ahead of her, seemingly close to expelling his last meal from his stomach.

Taking no chance, Chak takes aim and fires a concussive shot point blank into his exposed back. The shield protecting him flickers in near failure as the king is sent flying forward in a thrashing roll along a polished pearl-white floor. Still dazed, the man attempts to get up to flee, but another pulse rifle shot strikes him in the side.

Once again the shield's hexagonal patterns flare as it desperately tries to safely redistribute the harsh impact. The king is sent once more, this time crashing right at the food of wide open stairs.

Panting in absolute dread as he feels the heat of his shielding indicate the brink of complete failure, the King begins to crawl off the steps still committed to running.

Finally, another shot hammers him in the square of his back causing the shields to disperse in it’s protection just before he feels chitin around his body crackle as he’s forced against the sharp corners of the steps.

Crying out in a pained scream, he covers the back of his head with all of his arms.

“Chakalata! Stop this!” he commands in a shout that borders on begging.

“No.” his daughter replies in a tone he once thought impossible for this child to ever produce.

He braces for another far more lethal shot, but it doesn’t come. Instead he listens to armored hooves walk up the steps and around him to his front.

“Look at me, you cowardly filth.” Chak orders.

Hearing the sound of the pulse weapon priming, the King slowly begins to tilt his horned head up. However before he can meet the gaze of his offspring a hoof kicked him with enough force to launch him all the way back down the steps in a crashing tumble.

Groaning as one of his snapped horns clatter by his face, Lovia feels a crack along his jaw leaking internal fluids.

“Ch-Chakalata… You don’t understand… there was no other choice…” he says while pushing himself up to his hands and knees.

“There were plenty of choices to make, father. You just chose the one with the most cowardice involved.” Chak replies as she starts walking back down the steps, each hoof stamping like a slow ritual war drum.

“Cowardice!? Daughter, our people’s freedom is the price of not doing what I’ve done! You know just as well as I do that none who would have inherited the throne before me would commit to what must be done-” Lovia argues before being cut off with a kick at his side.

“Because they weren’t INSANE!” Chak roars at him with boiling rage, “You murdered our family, father! Your wife, your children! How are their lives worth this pointless lunacy!?”

Coming to rest on his back, Lovia gasps and hacks in pain.

“This galaxy is already doomed, Chak! As steep of a price as it was, the alternative was far greater!” he snaps back in vitriol, “I take no pleasure in what had to be done! But in the best interest of our people, I take pride in the fact that they will be far better off from my actions!”

“You truly are a madman…” Chak utters in disgust, “Do you honestly believe that the Manarians would treat our people any differently from the other species once they are in power? No, you only did this to save your own cowardly chitin! You hoped that at the very least you’d be treated with some modicum of mutual respect and spared from the worst of the inevitable servitude that would befall our people.” she strides up next to him and kneels down to focus her hateful glare upon him, “You are just as willing to sacrifice the lives of our people as you were our family. You are a narcissist of the worst calibur, and I’m ashamed to be related to such. I will forever regret not catching on to your evil, self-serving, gutless mind sooner. Your legacy will forever be a stain on our history moving forward, the only good coming from it being a lesson to not dare repeat by anyone in our future generations.”

Lovia grits his sharp teeth in a sneer.

“There will be no such lessons… The Empire will come, they will be victorious, and my efforts will be lauded and appreciated! Perhaps the Cali people will not be treated fairly, but they will be proven more useful than any Deathworlder species! And in that use, their treatment will still be superior to all others under the Empire’s rule!” he insists.

Chak stands back up while shaking her head.

“The Terrans have a saying, father; ‘Better to die on your feet, than live on your knees’. Our people will be standing proudly by everyone else, whether or not we lose to the Empire. And even if we do lose, the fight won’t be over.” she informs with conviction in her voice.

“What a completely foolish notion…” the king replies with a spiteful spit of blood.

“Perhaps to the ears of a worthless ‘king’ it is.” Chak grants as she takes precautionary aim at her father while finally looking around to absorb her surroundings.

The space she stands in is circular and walled off on one side, the other having inclining steps up towards a large thick blast door. Though the architecture design is almost completely foreign to her, she certainly recognizes the materials and artistic depth of the golds and whites.

Her recollection flashes back to the relic station that they discovered Jamie, causing her legs to feel numb from sudden sinking realization.

She’s in a Manarian structure.

Her dread only deepens as she catches something laying between the two arching portal-devices. Stepping closer, she takes in the sight of Simone’s armored gauntlet and the small red pool leaking out from it.

Guilt and shame racks her two hearts as profound concern overtakes her anger. Simone is terribly injured at best, or… at worst…

Chak can’t bear to entertain the thought of the redhead being obliterated somehow from the collapsing portal. It was an instantaneous occurrence, she’s likely hurt but alive.

Hearing her father attempt to scramble away as she appears distracted, Chak snaps her gaze right back onto him.

“Did you even care for us? Or was it all performative to best maintain the power your union with our mother granted you?” she coldly inquires as she watches him pathetically crawl towards the steps again.

This time however, Lovia injuries prove too painful for him to get far.

“I did what HAD TO BE DONE!” He shouts back before faltering into whimpers.

“Did you relish manipulating me? My mother? My siblings? Were we all simply political toys of yours that you were willing to throw away as soon as it proved advantageous for your own greed to hold on to power?” Chak guesses, “Every time you spoke fondly, every time you encouraged me… it was all to serve yourself and your sick twisted goals, not for the best interests of your own family.”

“SILENCE!” the now sobbing man screams as he lays back upon the steps to face her, “You dare… I will not be lectured by you! Call me sick and twisted…? I’m not the one fornicating with a Deathworlder like some Klat-spawn! A Terran of all things as well!? How many times did you have to serve yourself to it and it’s pack before it even agreed to aid you-”

The king screamed out so intensely that his voice rings hollow as his left leg is blown clean off his body in a bloody mist.

Chak glares at him down her freshly fired weapon’s sight.

“Speak ill of me in your final moments all you wish, but if you utter anything about my wife again I’m willing to throw my morals aside and offer you into Klat’s realm as slowly and painfully as possible. I was open to giving you a public trial, have the people decide what is to happen to your worthless shell, but seeing where I am, I know I’m likely not to survive long enough to see that come to pass. However, I can rid you and offer some sense of justice to my family.” Chak speaks in a dark tone as she moves up and presses her rifle barrel against Lovia’s head to firmly pin it against a step corner, “Accept my mercy, and speak your final words wisely.”

But before the fallen king can bring himself to speak a single syllable the thickly armored door begins to click in unlocking sounds.

Chak glances up at it and around for any place to flee to.

After a few moments the door silently scrolls open granting those on the other side access.

The sounds of heavy yet sharp clacking of chitin against smooth floor echo throughout the portal room as four adult female Malchite come marching in.

“Help!” Lovia shouts in a rush of desperate glee, “Quickly! I’ve been gravely wounded!” he adds.

The four don’t seem to give the king’s words much care, but they do make their way down the steps to him.

“Yes! Yes! Quick! I’m losing too much blood! Hurry!” Lovia cries out to his saviors.

“What are we to do with this one?” one of the Malchite inquires to a single one walking past him and towards the portal devices.

“Dispatch and dispose as ordered. I’d say he’s plenty dispatched.” the seeming leader of this group replies, “Dispose as you please.”

Lovia looks back anf forth between the three circling around him and the one separating.

“What? No…nonononononono! NO, WAIT! I’M KING LOVIA’MOTAAS, FRIEND TO THE EMPIRE, AND THE CHARGE OF THE ARMIES COMING TO FREE YOUR PEOPLE-” he panics before his voice escapes him again as he watches that remains of his separated leg be picked up and inserted into a devouring Malchite maw.

His body instinctively goes completely numb and freezes up as he sees pairs of sharp claws come down around him.

Chak listens in terror and sickness as she listens to her father be torn apart and eaten alive. He’s only able to make the weakest of sounds of protest as his body mercifully shut down his senses to spare him of the worst of his final living moments.

Feeling her own legs begin to stiffen, she doesn’t know if she’d be able to run from the single Malchite approaching the only place she could run and hide; behind one of the portal devices.

“I know you are there…” the Malchite speaks towards her, “If you have no honor within you to conduct combat, then I’d recommend using that rifle of yours to spare your miserable consciousness of the consequences in your defeat. Because you are to die here, regardless.”

The pulse rifle in Chak’s grasp begins to tremble in fear, hoping beyond hope that Simone would come charging in through another portal. Even in power armor, Chak knows she stands no chance fighting one let alone four Malchite. There’s no doubt many more roaming whatever this place is as well, compounding on her odds of not surviving.

The Cali jumps as something is tossed in front of her.

A familiar gauntlet, completely cleaned out.

Feeling a spark of rage at the sight, Chak stepped out with her weapon drawn on the giant crustacean that is still lapping its red-stained mandibles.

“So you will fight? I suppose there’s some honor within you after all. Unfortunately for myself, it will not bring me much if any honor to defeat you.” the Malchite muses in surprise.

Chak amplifies her power armor’s output. Simone is coming, the Cali knows this with all of her being. However, the Terran won’t miraculously arrive in this dire moment.

Just as Simone had to hold out to be found after being taken by the Children of Gaia, Chak decides to survive for as long as it takes for Simone to come find her.

She’s not dying today.

She and Simone promised a future together.

No one in this place will break that promise, Chak will not allow it.

Yet, simply fighting isn’t going to be enough to accomplish that. She musters within herself everything Simone has taught her and pairs it with something she already knows all too well.

For one last time, she will be the Runaway Princess.

In the same moment she fires a maxed out concussive blast right at the Malchite’s face, the Cali bounds to the side and dashes for the steps.

Reeling back by the sudden stun, the Malchite nearly topples over, but catches herself and screeches out in a signal for the others to grab the fleeing Cali.

-

“The majority of the King’s loyalist ground forces are standing down. It appears the defense fleets are pulling away as well, but there’s no correspondence of their surrender at this time.” an officer reports.

“Any news of the King?” Admiral Sreiak inquires.

“Still awaiting confirmation of his status. The palace has been secured, but our task forces have yet to disable whatever is jamming the comms within.” the officer replies.

Sreiak snarls softly in concern.

“Perhaps whatever bunker that fool locked himself away in is quite the shell to crack…” she mutters to herself before looking to the holographic stages of battle currently playing out.

The hostile Cali fleets are indeed backing off. Clearly they understand that not only is their capital is taken, but leader as well. Even if the King is still behind a thick door or something in that manner, they understand this fight is all but over. Hopefully it remains that way.

“The Mikk and Watath reinforcements certainly gave us that last push needed.” Chucknuq comments as he views the recently arrived ships.

“The cost would have been much higher without their aid.” Sreiak mostly agrees, “Doubt they would have been spared our way had Vermis not been as effective as it has. There’s already additional FSA fleet forces being prepared to join us to the Malchite homeworld. Nothing too substantial, especially with the Terran Union still heavily assisting Central, but we’ll take what we can get.”

“Indeed, but let’s hope the Union is motivated to hurry up and join us! Hehehaha! If the Cali fleets decide to go against us despite our victories here, we’ll certainly miss their presence.” Chucknuq says as he changed the view to overlook the palace grounds.

His scales shift slightly paler to a pink-ish hue.

Opening his personal comm, he makes a call towards everyone on the ground.

“Chucknuq? Space fighting go good?” A tired Gratt voice asks.

“Indeed, Nodrin. How are you three faring? Any word on Simone and Chakalata’Thatch yet?” the Tromple asks.

“Meekie sleeping. Troy… Troy is…” there’s a long pause, “Troy is still hurt much bad. Er- very bad. But doctors say he is likely to live, but not fully certain. They will move him to ship hospital soon.” they respond with concern, “So we may see you in space soon. I’ve not heard from Chak or Simone yet. But most fighting stopped.”

“Understood. It’s good to know you three are alive. I’m certain Troy will pull through, he is a tenacious sort. Rest as well as you can, friend.” Chucknuq says as he nods his head.

“I will. We know there is more fighting in soon-future. Farewell.” Nodrin replies before the call ends.

“Ever thought you’d see the Galaxy come to such times, High Admiral?” Sreiak questions in a sigh.

“Certainly not, but nothing is forever. Time is a funny thing, one moment you’re sitting discussing academy escapades, the next… the universe is suddenly encouraged to hunt you and those you care about down like animals.” Chucknuq shrugs with a chuckle, “Your favorite local lunch spot will go out of business someday. You are surrounded by your elders, only to one day realize you are the elder with less and less older than you by the day. Peace becomes war. Stability becomes fear for the future. Fascism rises from your own backyard, and once-friendly faces suddenly see you as little more than rot to remove. Time brings change. Change is inevitable, good and bad. Regardless of the scale of what’s playing out before me now, I acknowledge that those days of more peaceful times were always going to be temporary. But even in the darkest moments in recent memory, I’ve witnessed the solution for future better days.”

“I don’t suppose this solution will work against a highly advanced force prepped to invade the galaxy at large?” Sreiak semi-jests.

“It will.” the elder affirms in an earnest tone, “Perhaps not immediately, or even strictly within a few generation’s time. But I can say without a doubt in my mind the Manarain Empire will fall, regardless of how powerful or united it may be. Just as their actions move to topple the current status quo, the one they establish will be a victim of change just as well.”

“So, time and change is the solution?” Sreiak rebuttals skeptically.

“No. ‘Hope’ is the solution.” Chucknuq responds.

“...Well I thought you were going to go with something a bit more tangible, Admiral…” Sreiak sighs in disappointment.

“It may be a simple concept. But its effects are quite tangible, I assure you. We would not be standing here in this chance to defend the stars if it wasn’t for one Cali placing her hope on finding a Terran to help her. Even I had my doubts in what she hoped for, but I cannot deny where following that hope has led me. To put simply Admiral Sreiak, ‘Hope’ in all of its forms to bring change for the better is what spurs and feeds action to do so. Even in the span of stars, a single individual can set the course of everyone’s lives. Till my last day, I will encourage everyone to allow themselves to hold onto hope. Even in the face of the bleak and ‘insurmountable’, there is always something to face it with.” Chucknuq explains.

“Sounds… nice. But regardless of wishing for better or not, action is what’s most important, regardless of what motivates you.” Sreiak points out.

“Certainly, action is key. Cause and effect. You can’t organize on hope alone, but it’s a place to start and something to keep you standing and moving forward as you act. It gives purpose to action and continued action. Always keep that in mind.” the High Admiral finishes before a bridge officer stands from their position.

“Admiral, the jamming has been neutralized. Simone Thatch is requesting a shared call with you and Prince Brom.” he updates.

“And… Chakalata’Motaas?” Sreiak questions as she moves over to her comm screen.

“She’s… specifically the topic of the report. As well as the King.” the officer says.

Chucknuq’s scales become far less saturated by this news, dreading the worst.

“Link us.” Sreiak grants.

Brom joins in the call without hesitation upon the hail just before the Terran came into view.

“What do you have to report, Thatch?” Brom asks as soon as she appears.

“You’re gonna question what I have to say, but I’m telling you now to not fucking bother. We need to move as soon as possible so I’m telling you to just take my fucking word on this.” the redhead prefaces before taking a breath, “We made it to the King. But he had Manarian Technology. Wormhole technology. He was planning on escaping though a fucking portal, and he did, but Chak ran in after him before it closed prematurely because it was rushed open and shit failed. Good news is, I interrogated the staff manning the tech, and now know where they went. We were already planning on heading that direction next. There’s a hidden Manarian-made facility or something like that on the Malchite homeworld. The staff don’t know its purpose, but considering the whole Malchite plan and having a damn portal-path there, it’s probably nothing we want existing for much longer. We need to get Chak back, and destroy it, right now.” Simone explains sternly.

“I’ll reveal myself and rally my people to assist.” Brom responds.

Sreiak hesitates, shocked to hear that Manarians had wormhole technology.

Glancing over the Chucknuq, she’s further surprised to see his color mostly restored despite the terrifying news.

“Then we all shall rally, won’t we? Hahaha!” he says to the Z’ah’tuck with an encouraging nod.

“Right. However I don’t think it would be wise to risk bringing any Cali forces here with us. Are we to lie about the King’s whereabouts? If they find out he’s possibly alive and safe in a far away location we may be at worse odds in the fight as they turn on us.”

“If we leave them here, we risk them following us anyway.” Brom points out.

“Chak got him. She was right on his tail and I didn’t see anyone else on the other side of the portal. She got him.” Simone insists.

“Declaring absolution over an assured assumption is still a lie. If that lie were to be exposed, our reigns on their service would slip in an instant.” Sreiak argues.

“Many parted on Chak’s approach. They’ve seen her keep her word and lead on the front lines. I will take this moment to finally reveal myself. Take your forces to the Malchite world, I’ll remain with mine and bring as much reinforcements from here as I can muster. There’s still firm loyalty to the crown and even if they don’t see me as a King yet, many will follow me. Or at least I’m willing to try to follow my sister’s example. I’ll finish what she started here, you have my word.” Brom says with conviction.

“Your forces will be drastically outnumbered… if they turn on you, there will be no one coming to rescue you, Prince.” Sreiak cautions, “You are the only royalty still within our current reach. If Chakalata is no longer with us by the time we reach her, you will be the last hope to stabilize and sway the Cali military to our side.”

Brom lets out a small laugh.

“Take it from me, Admiral. One does not simply slay the Runaway Princess. My sister will find a way to stay alive. And like her I have a responsibility to my people. I’m willing to take the risks, but that requires you to go and save her. If I fail here, she’ll be your true last hope. My sister in law Thatch will ensure her safe retrieval, that I have no doubt.” he says before giving Simone a nod, “May the stars guide us all.”