POLITICS AND SOLDIERS THE SIEGE OF FARSCAPE PART II
24th Dec 2005
In a typical fashion, there well over 700 collective one-man vehicles set against the Farscape base. In the midst of the darkness, when the Empire was asleep, invisible knives slit two half-asleep guards’ throats, and eager hands worked on the vehicles. They were quick and silent, and very careful in their deeds. Within a quarter hour, the small forest opening was back as it was.
T'Lahnee could practically smell the excitement in the air, or it might just be that horrible stench that the male-warriors let off when nervous. She heard an insult from a passing officer, but let it roll off and kept on walking-her squad wouldn't insult her.
They'd seen her in action.
She hurried not to the army assembly point in the North, but East to the group of aircraft that belonged to her squad. They accepted her quickly and rushed to enter their vehicles.
T'Lahnee was about to enter her cockpit when she saw a fellow Striker-Bomber blow up with a thunderous sound, quickly followed by many others. The crews left their ships immediately; they were experienced, and sabotage must have taken place here. How could the treacherous humans have gotten outside their base though? With a frown, T'Lahnee rushed to collect the surviving members of her squad and rushed to the caves.
"T'Lahnee...why are we going here?"
Instead of answering verbally, T'Lahnee just allowed him to look into the cave.
The enemy were assembled. Lines and lines of troops formed a gigantic perimeter outside the base, and a formidable amount of firepower. Oddly enough, there was not a vehicle in sight-the enemy's arsenal seemed to only consist of light guns; not that the defenders preferred otherwise.
"Men. We've had to take this base the hard way. Many of our brothers died to give us this moment. The Fleet is right above our heads, praying for us to win. Now, I don't believe in prayers, so I say screw the Fleet unless they can get some guns for us. I say, we get out there, get some fat pointy heads into our sights and turn their brains into evening stew! They want to eat our livers? Let's see how they eat lead! Men, fire at will!"
The base, so quiet and unassuming, absolutely erupted with power. Turrets and rifles rammed into the Empire, spitting off blood and gore; in that one burst, over 300 enemy troops died.
The survivors responded.
The next hour was hell. Turrets fired, aliens and humans alike fell and red rivers painted the landscape. The sky was filled with curses, angry war cries and the sounds of battle. Blue pulses climbed the walls of Farscape, responded with red lines of death painting the enemy lines. This was a great battle, a true fight. This was war.
"Point Beta's gone sir! Same with Gamma!"
The wizened commander growled, and snapped off a retort.
"Close off the airlocks, and post booby Christmas presents if they're opened. Keep the outgoing fire up boys, no slack."
The humans fought valiantly, fending off the aliens with their bare hands if need be, fighting to the death. There was no quarter asked, none given. The two remaining turrets blew enormous holes in the enemy's lines, but the lines were endless.
And then, in a second, the ground shook with terrifying force, sending humans and aliens alike to the floor.
"What the hell was that?"
The young leuitenant gulped.
"Phonon Type III Pulse missiles sir. They detonated in the hills." The dutiful noncom reported from his screen dutifully, but couldn’t hide his confusion.
Because Phonon missiles were Skylordian in design.
Even with this slight brief of hope, as the enemy swarmed into the base, the remaining soldiers realised that they required a miracle.
Recruit Yi-Likjee hated Skylord weapons. They were hideous and primitive in design, compared to his own elegant rifle. The disgruntled elitist soldiers had nothing else to use however-the squad’s armory had been discovered this morning full of completely drained rifles, and the squad had been forced to acquire their own weapons since. They were forced to cope with these monstrosities for now.
Yi-Likjee was a young soldier, but he had sharp eyes, and the moment he saw the pink flesh poking out it returned smoldering. With a cry, he threw a grenade in amongst the hiding soldiers and blew them to hell.
His superior looked impressed, even while he was managing a complex manoeuvre where the humans were outflanked and outgunned and gunning down a squad of pink aliens at the same time. The young recruit smiled, and knew victory was close.
Then of course, a turret looked at him, and sent him and the rest of his squad, including the operation commander screaming off the face of Farscape.
The screen, just as it had been showing live tactical pictures of the carnage, quite suddenly and quite unexpectedly turned off. It was accompanied by every single system in the control centre, amidst cries of surprise.
A voice came from the darkness, “Sir! They must have captured the power plant!”
Which was right next door to the control centre.
“Everyone, turn on your flashlights, and get your guns out. Prepare for imme-“
“Sir!”, a voice cried out. “Listen!”
He listened hard, and frowned. He clicked on his wrist tactical-reader, and frowned very, very deeply.
“All enemy and allied forces…gone.”
The soldiers gaped.
The soldiers turned on their flashlights noiselessly, still taking in what the hell had happened. They focused their flashlights on the door, and moved towards it…only to backpedal furiously as the reinforced door suffered a sizable dent and a noticeable bang.
The soldiers took up defensive positions, and readied themselves. Anything at all could be on the side of that door-their fellow soldiers, an enemy strike team, an evil parasite, Satan himself…
The door came open with a thunderous smash, and as the smoke cleared, a young, trigger-nervous soldier fired, and was followed by a furious bombardment of emotion from his brothers in arms.
The phase bolts soaked the door in red and blue sparks, making the entire doorway a portrait of fire. Until, finally…the phase bolts came out of the doorway in a furious wave, all hitting and evaporating on the ceiling. The soldiers stared in amazement…but not at the unbelievable feat just observed.
But at the magnificent caped figure standing in the doorway, holding his elongated blade straight and true. His stance was unmistakably one of a warrior, and a mighty one at that. He seemed to have the very aura of leadership and bravery, and stood standing tall and proud amongst the shellshocked soldiers. And, of course, like all other Skylords he bore his mark…and this one was the mark of Naltsa Abe.
“Did you really have to shoot at me?”. he asked with a grin.
5 minutes later, and the newly promoted General could only stare incredulously at the story which had just flattened his ears. That someone, especially a Skylord could be so ruthless was unbelievable.
It turned out that Naltsa Abe’s forces had always been in control of the planet, but had hurriedly retreated from the Farscape base at the first sign of an Imperial invasion. Since, his army had been conducting hit-and-run tactics, frustrating the hell out of the enemy. Naltsa Abe, had left the original In Da Galaxy clan because he had considered the galaxy to no longer have any true warriors. Farscape had been the test…and the Skylords had passed with flying colours. Naltsa’s army had enjoyed themselves however; that was the only reason they had barely met any air forces. At this he gave a little wink.
“Could you patch me in to your commanding officer?”, he asked solidly. He somehow managed to look both merry and sad at the same time.
Shaking his head in puzzlement, the General patched him through. He would never understand these damned Skylords.
The Captain smiled as he saw Abe’s face. He had had no idea of the change of management at Farscape, but was glad nevertheless.
“Patch him through to the Admiralty and the Skylord Council…go ahead Abe.” He was practically beaming.
With a great, melodramatic flourish, the fresh Skylord Warrior proclaimed “I, the Skylord Naltsa Abe, leader of the Farscapian Resistance Army and all of it’s associated brotherhoods, pledge my blade and my allegiance back to the Skylord cause, along with all of my armies and warships to fight our common enemy. You have proven yourselves to have returned to the path of the Warrior, and proven you have strength and hearts of steel. You are warriors…as are we.”
The Captain smiled.
“Thank you Abe…thanks. The Skylordian Alliance is based on Twilight Citadel, a few thousand parsecs of the Zygimantas tribute. They’ll be expecting you.”
The Skylord nodded, and cut off the transmission.
“Oh, and General.”
The General looked around at the carnage.
"You call this merry?"
On a passing note, I'd like to wish everyone a Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year!
Remember, all you need is a keyboard and and an imagination to write a decent story; don't be afraid to use either.
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