"I'll only be an hour, I promise."

Major Gerald Malkov gently caressed his wife's face with his left hand as he leaned in to place a kiss upon her forehead. Caroline Malkov smiled and shook her head, "You know I don't like these surprises every year. I'd rather be with you than have some diamond ring."

"Well," began Gerald, "You don't have to worry about a diamond ring this year. Besides, I think you'll like this year's surprise." He slid his left hand onto Caroline's large belly, hoping to feel a kick from his unborn child. "The Corps was real good to me this year with the holiday bonus, so I will spare no expense." He kissed her once more before reaching for his coat, "Edmond is going to be coming in about thirty minutes to drop off some gifts, so be sure to have his usual glass of brandy ready for him."

Caroline groaned, "Why does your brother always come here for his liquor? Why can't he simply buy himself his own drink at the cantina like every other self-respecting drunk?"

Gerald shrugged his shoulders and slipped into his coat, "You know Edmond: always wanting an excuse to eat out of my fridge. Anyway, I'll be back before you know it."

"You have one hour, Major." Said Caroline sternly.

Gerald chuckled and nodded, "Yes, ma'am."



It was that time of year again; another standard galactic year slipping past as the next one awaits us around the corner. For those loyal to the Vast Empire, that meant another holiday bonus, an opportunity to hit the local cantinas, or the chance to spend time with loved ones as you waited anxiously for the last second of the current year to fade into oblivion.

For the natives of Strethys, however, a different story is about to unfold. In the far reaches of the Unknown Regions, the citizens of the low-tech Strethys are about to witness the birth of a beautiful baby girl. Unbeknownst to many, her arrival marks the forthcoming of a myth no less than a few millennia in age – an urban legend that few are familiar with, and even fewer that pray for death before the next chapter begins…







The peaceful blue-green world of Strethys floats before you in the midst of the stars. Foliage and oceans create the stunning landscapes of this primitive world, and you become intrigued with its simplistic beauty. You close in on the planet and begin to notice the many creatures that inhabit this heavenly body: the strange birds of the air, the aquatic life of the oceans, and the numerous kingdoms of animal life that reign on land.

The time is near…

As you make your way through the dense forest, you think you see a flickering light in the distance. Just to be sure that the late of night isn't playing tricks on your mind, you begin to make your way closer to this strange phenomena. Ah! It is a campfire… so this planet does have intelligent life amongst the other wonders that are present. Like a ghost in the wind, you float towards the light – almost entranced by its random display of motion. The cries of a child break your hypnotic state, and your vision of the fire is quickly replaced by that of a small hut. The walls seemingly fade into transparency, and you see a child being wrapped in a blanket and handed to her mother.






"Good evenings, Gerald. How's Carlines?"

Gerald placed his gifts onto the table and began searching his pockets for his wallet, "Very well, Torhon. She's due any day now."

The Chiss smiled as he neatly packed Gerald's belongings into a bag, "That's very goods news. Do you knows if it's a boys or girls?"

Gerald shook his head and chuckled, "Nah. Caroline and I decided we wanted to be surprised. I'm crossing my fingers for it to be a boy though."

Torhon nodded and handed the bag over to Gerald, "Well have a goods nights, Gerald."

"Same to you, Torhon. Thanks much. I better head back now before Caroline gives a fit."

On his way home, Gerald noticed several people running frantically into the streets. They were pulling at their hair, punching the walls, and cursing at the night sky. He didn't pay it too much mind, though. He figured they were just drunk with it being news year's eve and all. However, the sight of those men did want him to get home faster, so he began to speed up.






"She's beautiful!"

You've never learned Strellis, but somehow you could understand every word they spoke. The baby's birth gave way to a great celebration within the hut. The women were laughing as they congratulated the mother, and the men peering in through the door were patting the father on the back.

You feel a sudden chill run down your spine… well, you think you have a spine. It's as if you know something… something absolutely horrific that is about to happen. You feel yourself being pulled through the transparent walls of the hut and placed next to the newborn child. One of the women who helped with the birth suddenly appeared in front of you, coming out of nowhere… no, not nowhere… from behind… no… within you.

Did she just go through you?

She had begun dabbing a cloth around the child's neck to remove some of the blood when she gave a sudden shriek and quickly dropped the soft rag.

"No…" she whispered, "May the gods have mercy on our souls." She looked down at the mother and shook her head, "Your child," she took a step back, "Delivers a warning from the devil."

Devil? Now that caught your attention. You concentrate on the child, and your vision quickly fades into a different picture: the back of the child's neck. You see something, but you can't quite make it out. Blinking several times, you try to make out what it is. Upon backing up a bit, you notice that it's an unusual birthmark. It appears to be two spherical objects in close proximity of each other… but what does that mean? That was a stupid question, because somehow you knew everything. You suddenly feel your body being pulled back outside the hut, and you find yourself back near the fire. Instinctively, you look up at nearly gasp at the sight above you.

Not a moment later, three women come rushing out of the hut – tears in their eyes – as they frantically pointed up into the night sky. Cries of terror rang in your ears, and laughter was replaced with moaning.

Dancing around the mighty Strethys were her two moons: Morphys and Nemyth, as the inhabitants called them – named after the god of dreams and god of revenge, respectively. Suddenly you knew what was about to happen. Somehow it was becoming all too clear, and yet you didn't panic. Instead, a sinister smile formed on your face as you peered back over at the new mother and her child. Thoughts of blood, death, and tears began filling your mind as the two moons neared their final phases of perfect alignment.






Gerald turned the corner, and his eyes widened at the sight before him. All of his apartment windows were shattered, yet there was no sign of movement. Gerald's right hand quickly slid beneath his speeder's seat and grabbed the hidden Deathrain Combat Blaster, which he had purchased from the Imperial Center Store for 750 IC's not two months ago.

He leapt out of the speeder and quickly positioned himself outside of his apartment door. He peered inside the dark room and quickly scanned the area.

"Caroline?" he shouted into the dark. He silently entered the apartment, his weapon poised, and his trigger finger itching to deliver a fatal blow to anything that popped out of the darkness. His left hand began groping the wall for the light switch. Once the familiar shape of the switch slid past his fingers, he flipped it on, and he nearly dropped his pistol at what lay ten feet before him.

"Edmond! Stop!" Gerald raised his pistol at his brother, absolute horror in his eyes. "You son of a bitch, stop!"

But Edmond wouldn't stop. He didn't even seem to care that Gerald had entered the room – he was in frenzy, and his pure black eyes showed that the Edmond everyone knew was gone.

"I'm going to fire Edmond – STOP!" yelled Gerald.

Edmond didn't stop. He was too hungry, and Caroline was sliding down his throat real smoothly.

A laser through the head made him stop – it was the only way to make him stop. The Deathrain's shot echoed throughout the apartment, and Edmond's lifeless body fell backward onto the bloodstained carpet. Gerald let the pistol slip out of his hands as he fell next to what was left of Caroline Malkov. He pulled her blood-covered torso into his arms and held her close – his body rocking back and forth as his tears began to clean her face of the crimson red.

A cackling woman dressed all in black suddenly flashed into his mind for a split second, and his body froze with fear. He blinked several times and slowly tightened his hold on his wife – afraid of the dark. The image flashed before him again, and again, and again… each time, driving him more mad than the last. Finally, the images stopped, but his once glossy brown-eyes had turned a pitch black. He moaned, and one last innocent tear fell onto Caroline's cheek before he began devouring what Edmond hadn't finished.

He was just so hungry…

Once he had finished with her, his frenzied eyes looked down at the lifeless heap on his carpet. After he licked his fingers, he reached out for Edmond's head and pulled it up to his mouth.

The night was young, and he would be gnawing on Edmond for a while…







The child – her birthmark of the phases of the two moons – was a sign of her return. Shy'nok, the Huntress of Minds, would soon make her way back into the consciousness of all men, women, and children. This coming year marks another 40,000th year in the galaxy. She returns every 40,000 years, and this year just happened to be lucky four-quadruple-oh.

I wonder what you'll be doing on the eve of her forthcoming?

OOC:

Morphys and Nemyth have come into perfect alignment with Strethys, and Shy'nok has returned from her 40,000 year long slumber. Not a minute has gone by, and her influence has already spread into Vast Empire space.

What are your dreams? What are your nightmares? What do you most fear? Shy'nok knows them all, and manipulates them to her desires. Her influence infects everyone, and many go mad at the sound of her laughter. Only those of strong will can withstand her mental attacks.

Post your encounters with Shy'nok, and those infected by her spell! Periodic updates will be given as you continue the story!

Temporary Defence Fleet(TDF) Alpha, mSSD Atrus, on patrol along the VE Frontier

Newly promoted Petty Officer (2nd class) Ibram Tyrol strolled silently through the corridors of the Atrus. Despite it being the holiday season, Ibram had volunteered to work patrol duty with the temporary defensive fleet: Someone still had to watch the frontier.

He would send a message to his father in the morning, and at least most of the crew got the day off, barring an emergency. Lieutenant Jaden and the XO had also volunteered, but the rest of Viper Squadron had opted to go on leave. They had been dropped off at Abrea a week previously. Ibram didn’t see much of the Lieutenant or the XO though. All the Volunteers we’re divided and assigned to ‘temporary’ squadrons, which were a mix between real and droid pilots.

It was approaching midnight, and Ibram was heading straight for the sack. No matter what profession you were in, time zone, mental state… working a late shift always seemed to suck. Ibram and two pilots from the Second Fleet had done the shift. One was a grizzly old veteran with a decent sense of humour and some good stories; the other was a Flight leader who was good with mind games. It had been a laugh.

The Clock struck twelve, Ibram turned the corner that lead to his assigned billet. All of a sudden the lights flickered on and off, and a gentle rumble echoed throughout the ship. Ibram paused; he could here shouting and ruckus off in the distance.

Weird, he thought. Must be some of the Gropo’s getting drunk again.

He entered his quarters. Immediately, he felt something was not quite right. Hand slowly moving to his DC-17 Blaster Pistol, he walked slowly to the middle of his quarters. By a mere Flight Member’s standards, the room was pretty plush: another perk of holiday volunteering.

Something stirred over by the wash-room. Ibram drew his pistol, sank to his knee, and aimed at the door. “Who’s there!?” He called. “Come out and identify yourself!” Silence. Another gentle rumble shook the ship, and Ibram could have sworn he had heard an explosion. He stood up, and gently inched towards the door of the washer. No-one was there.

What the Gak is going on?

He looked at the mirror, and suddenly he saw her. The cackling women dressed all in black. Long nailed hands poised over him, ready to strike. Military training kicked in, and he span and fired at his adversary. Again, no-one was there…and now he had a small scorched crater in the wall.

Gak. He thought. I’m going to get charged for that.

He was about to holster his pistol and go to bed when he saw her, huddled in the corner of the room. The young woman was dressed in a blanket, scarred hands pulled close to her. She was cold and she was crying. Ibram’s jaw dropped.

“Ma-Marisa!?”

----------------------------------------------
TDF-Alpha, ISD Suspense

The clock struck twelve.

Commander Shodon felt dizzy. All day, he had been plagued by this drumming in his head. It never seemed to stop.

Thump-thump-thump-thump

Thump-thump-thump-thump

Off to his starboard, the Commander noticed that the lights on the Atrus were flickering. He turned to his bridge crew.

“Mr. Gallowfrey, signal the Atrus with my compliments. Ask if everything is alright.”

“Aye sir.”

Thump-thump-thump-thump

Shodon put his fingers to his temples. That dammed drumming!

Thump-thump-thump-thump

It was getting louder. So loud, he couldn’t concentrate.

“Sir, disturbance reported through-out the ship. Some sort of fire-fight has broke out in engineering.”

Thump-thump-thump-thump

“Sir? Sir! Explosions registered in the arms bay! Shall I sound a general alert?. Sir!?”

Thump-thump-thump-thump

Shodon drew his pistol. Mr. Gallowfrey was looking scared. All around the under-staffed bridge, the other crewman were also acting strangely. One man was slamming his head against his desk, another had collapsed, blood foaming at his mouth…yet another was praying. All had eyes as black as night, and as empty as the void.

The commander saw a flash, and a cackling woman dressed all in black. He raised his pistol-thump-thump-thump-and shot Mr. Gallowfrey in the head. Thump.

The commander started punching commands into his console. “Marines.” He said. “Clear up this mess.”

The troopers on duty moved as if in a daze, quickly executing what was left of the bridge crew, and carrying their bloody bodies away.

The computer spoke; “Captains override engaged. Weapons slave circuit engaged. Level Red security locks engaged.”

Commander Shodon smiled, his black and empty eyes reflecting the scene around him.

“Computer, direct all power to weapons. Target the Atrus. Open fire.”

---------------------------------------------------------

mSSD Atrus

“Marisa?”

The woman before was haggard, untidy, and scarred in so many places. But Ibram knew her. He had known her most of his life. He knew those weeping eyes, those quivering lips….those scarred hands. His ex-fiancé may have been dead for many months now, but Ibram would know her anywhere.

“Marisa what are you doing here? You’re…..You’re supposed to be dead!”

“No thanks to you!" she shrieked. And for an instant, Ibram thought he saw the cackling lady once again.

“I don’t understand.” He cried. “What are you talking about!”

“You know Bram….you know.” She raised an accusing finger at him. “You know who the real murderer is.”

Ibram sunk to his knees, tears coming to his eyes. “No! How-how can you say that! You know I would never hurt you my love! I missed you so much after it happened!”

She cackled. “Should have known better then shouldn’t you? You knew she was ill. You knew she was tired…but no. You wanted her to test the gakking fighter anyway.”

Ibram was crying. All the guilt he had harboured, all the fears that had formed and fermented in his mind. They all game flooding out. “I didn’t know…I couldn’t know.”

“But you knew she was pregnant. Didn’t you? You had your suspicions. Didn’t you? You know you should have gone yourself, didn’t you? DIDN’T YOU!!” The apparition of Marisa shrieked and clawed at him, and Ibram crawled backwards across the floor in terror, his black and empty eyes wide with dear. “Keep away! Keep away!”

“You abandoned her. You weren’t there in her hour of need.” The apparition was advancing on the cowering Ibram.

I tried to get there…they didn’t tell me till she was already in the hospital…

“Murderer. Betrayer. And all over some Gakking Z-95 or whatever it was…”

I’m sorry…I’m so sorr- wait…it wasn’t a Z-95…it was an ARC-170. Marisa would know that. She loved it more than I did! Which means….

The darkness cleared from Ibram’s eyes, and the apparition of Marisa halted…except it wasn’t Marisa anymore.

Ibram’s strong blue eyes looked up at the cackling lady dressed in black, looked right through her.

“Which means,” He said. “That you’re not Marisa.” He fired his pistol, and the apparition screamed and vanished.

Gak, he thought. They're gonna charge me for that one too.

Ibram could defiantly hear explosions, and a stronger shockwave shook the ship. The ship’s intercom blared.

“This is the Captain, all hands to battle stations. Repeat all hands to battle stations. This is not a Drill. The Fleet is under attack.”

Ibram grabbed his gear, and rushed back out of the room.

OOC:

1,206 words.

----- 1:47 AM -----
In orbit of planet Abrae
Aboard the The Zephrim

Nymall lifted his head slowly... he had fallen asleep. The cockpit had a eerie, ghostlike quality to it, and there was complete silence over the ship, with the exception of the occasional beep by the comms console, as it repeated the distress order.

There was no response.

Below, through the cockpit Nymall could see the planet below, looking so peaceful and pristine, even though he knew in the back of his mind that there was a war going on in the streets... the people verses themselves.

Stretching, he wandered over to the control panel and reviewed the logs... just to make sure... and to his surprise, there was a message. The computer had saved it, and with a tap of a key Nymall brought up the voice.

“This is Thrisk Delahurst of the Cargo freighter Na'gha De'havaal... we are under attack, I repeat, we are under attack. One of the crewmen has gone crazy an he got Schogee, our pilot... I've secured myself in the Cockpit... and... oh my god... he's trying to get through the door... please... if there is anyone.... MESSAGE ENDS.”

Nymall played the message over again, and looked at the time stamp... 1:32 AM... Twelve minutes ago. She might still be alive... Nymall thought to himself as he Ran to his console and started placing in co-ordinates.



Thrisk bolted upright from her sleep, letting out a cry of terror. She tried to place herself, panicked as the world slowly reformed around her. It's ok... She thought to herself. You're aboard the Na'gha... it was just a nightmare...

However... the woman seemed so real...

There was a thumping sound out in the hall, and she timidly rose from her bed to go take a look, grabbing a gown from her closet. It was a slow, methodical thumping sound... almost sounded like something had broken loose. Thump... Thump... Thump...

Better not be that damn actuator... I told them to get a replacement months ago... She thought as she approached the door. With a click, the door slid open leading to the engineering bay. The lights were dim, and the sound was echoing louder in here... it seemed to be coming from another room... and... wetter...

Swearing again, Thrisk reached for her toolkit, which she usually kept beside her door... However it was missing. “Dammit Tynell... I told you not to touch my tools...” She muttered as she started down the hall towards the kitchen. She slowed her pace as she approached the kitchens, as the sound got louder. She barely noticed a bit of blood trailing on the floor... and now there was muttering...

As she reached the end of the hall, the muttering grew louder... she placed the voice... it was Tynell...

“Do you hear that peter? They're all robots... droids... we're just making them work again... yes... they'll all be better... we're upgrading them peter... that's what I said...”

The lounge and the kitchen of the Na'gha De'havaal was shapped in a long L, so that part of the kitchen extended down the hall, and Thrisk had to round the corner to see the gruesome display before her. Blood coated every surface of the walls and ceiling, and she could see Tynell hunched behind the counter, working on something with a hammer... the pounding sound was a cross between metal against metal and the suction of mud...

“Oh my god...” Thrisk said to herself as she slowly backed away from the gruesome scene... and Tynell looked up. The Correlian stood approximately five feet in hight, and would have had rugged good looks, but his insanity showed it's physical signs... where his left eye should have been had been torn out and a Optic Lens from one of the repair droids had been smashed into the socket, and the area around scorched... On the ground was a slain crewman, half of his face gouged by various wires and tubes, protruding out at odd angles...

“Thrisk! Peter, she needs upgrades!” Tynell said as he stood up and started walking towards Thrisk. The female Correlian let out a scream and started fleeing... down the hall towards the cockpit. She arived there a split second before Tynell and closed it with the emergency controls, locking it. She found the emergency blaster that Schogee hid behind the false console and blasted out the controls... there was no way that monster could get in there now...

Reaching over, she pressed the button on the comms and started broadcasting a message. “This is Thrisk Delahurst of the Cargo freighter Na'gha De'havaal... we are under attack, I repeat, we are under attack. One of the crewmen has gone crazy an he got Schogee, our pilot... I've secured myself in the Cockpit... and... oh my god... he's trying to get through the door... please... if there is anyone....” There was the sound of sparking under the console. Timidly, Thrisk looked down to see what was there.

The skeletal face of Schogee, the pilot, grinned back.

Thrisk started screaming as the lights in the cabin went out.



There she was. Nymall scanned the massive cargo freighter with the thermal console... there had to be something... And there was.

Two heat signatures pulsed red... one in the cockpit, the other in the main cabin. On the far end of the ship, a large docking bay that was primarily used for cargo lay closed and sealed.

“Well..” Nymall said while looking over at the droid. “Let's put you to use.” Taking a long, slim wire, Nymall connected the Archive droid to the com systems, and waited. The droid whirred to life and started to try and access the freighter's systems. Minutes passed... finally, plessure blew out of the lock as the cargo bay opened... it luckily appeared empty. The Zephrim casually glided in and landed. With a whir, the cargo bay doors of the massive freighter closed.

“Now for the hard part.”

With a click, Nymall broguht the ship's defense system's on line. Browsing choises, he found a destroyer droid that was stowed in one of the cargo bays many hatches and brought it to life... the screen flashed for a instant and then showed the camera from the droid's head. Carefully, Nymall guided the droid out and into the bay, making sure to close the cargo bay doors after it left.

Nymall watched the viewscreen with intensity as the droid wandered the labrythintine halls of the ship, making sure to check all the rooms. Nothing. Some of the rooms had blood, and there was a lot of dragging marks, all leading towards the helm of the ship. Slowly, but surely, the destroyer droid inched forward... until it found the mess hall...

The mess hall looked like something out of a maddened dream. Blood covered every surface, and at each of the stools of the table sat a dessicated corpse... The destroyer droid slowly scanned the room, looking for the perpetrator... it found him, quite quickly. He leaned against a corner, as if waiting for the droid. “My brethren... You have come...” Without a moment's hesitation, the droid fired.

----- 2:17 AM -----
Deep Space
Aboard the The Zephrim

“They're all gone? He killed everyone?”

Nymall looked up from the floor. He had never been good at being sensitive, and now that he needed it... it was failing. “Everyone. He was driving pieces of metal into their skulls. When the destroyer droid found...”

“Enough. I... I don't want to hear about it... I...” Slowly, she started sobbing... Trying to be gentle, Nymall wrapped a arm around her, trying to comfort her... she sobbed for a while, and then eventually fell asleep. Carefully, Nymall laid her down on the bed and then left the room, making sure to lock the door... for both their safety. As soon as he entered the hall, he heard the comm blaring.

“This is the mSSD Atrus, we are under attack. Repeat, this is the mSSD Atrus, we are...”

“N'chetch Tithon!” Nymall swore in trandoshan as he rushed towards the cockpit. This was going to be a long night.

OOC:

Word count: 1382

Tadeth
Bar "Nyarlathotep's Messenger "
11:06 local time

Dante backed into the grimy durasteel surface and heard splashes as he knocked a pair of drinks over and their contents spilled onto the floor.

I would be a good deal more concerned if their owners weren't trying to kill me.

One of the...delusional lunged for him, fingers slashing the air and a trail of spit trickling down her left cheek. He smelt her drug-scented breath and felt her saliva on his throat as she rammed into him, forcing him onto the bar as she tried to bite his throat out. As the others closed in for the kill and she twisted this way and that, Dante glanced into his assailant's eyes and almost froze in fear. Her mad eyes were as black and as expressionless as a a pair of polished obsidian orbs. Closer to the eyes of a shark or a kryat dragon than those of a human being, they were horribly but unidentifiably familiar to the trooper.
She stopped trying to claw through the thick body armour he was wearing and leapt off, landing on all fours and scrabbling away on her hands. Relieved but confused the trooper turned and found himself looking down the wrong end of a blaster.

Time seemed to slow as the bedraggled, insane spacer tightened his grip on the pistol's trigger. His reflexes honed by dozens of missions, Dante ducked under the weapon's barrel and used one gloved hand to twist the man's arm. The weapons discarged into a durasteel wall and bounced off at a tight angle, leaving a small, blackened hole in the surface. Even as the mis-fired bolt exited the barrel, Dante grabbed the man's wrist and turned it. There was a loud crack as the man's bones gave way and the weapon fell to the ground from its owner's suddenly nerveless grip. However, the man , instead of falling to the ground and moaning in pain as Dante had expected, ignored his injury and attacked ,  black murder visible in his eyes. The trooper lowered his position and met the man's charge, using his own momentum to turn the lunatic and send him smashing into a wall. Even as his former assailant writhed on the floor in a pile of droids and drink glasses he had been thrown through, a dozen of his friends charged.

Dante's hand dropped to his pistol holster for a brief second before he reconsidered.

I can't murder the people I'm supposed to protect, even if they are trying to kill me.

The trooper flicked his weapon's setting to "stun" and opened fire, sending blue energy bolts into the horde. Several fell, and were trampled under the feet of the others in their eagerness to attack. But there were too many for one person to handle, and soon the trooper was fighting for his life.

He glanced over his shoulder and smiled.

"So sorry, but I have to go."

With that comment, the trooper jumped, going armoured feet first through a window and landing heavily on an adjacent rooftop. As he stopped for a moment, stunned by the impact, he saw a Rodian try to follow him, only to land several meters below with an unpleasant crunch. Taking another look at the damage and the groups of  madmen clustered around the hole in the building, Dante sighed. Even with his income, repairing the damage would be very expensive.

At least you're alive; considering what happened money shoudl be the least of your worries.

Replacing his helmet on his head, and ignoring the chime of activating electronics and hiss of activating seals, the trooper made a beeline for the barracks.

Maybe I can find out what in space is going on...

OOC:

624

mSSD Atrus

“This is Petty Officer Tyrol, can anyone hear me?” Static.

Ibram moved slowly through the abandoned corridors of the Atrus. He was still dressed in his flight suit; however the helmet and life-support units were in his locker. Leaving most of his personal possessions behind, he had grabbed his DC-17 and a Stitch Zu bayonet that his father had gotten him as a present. Now he was making his way slowly back towards the hanger, speaking into his personal comlink to see If any of the other pilots were around…or even alive.

“This is Petty Officer Tyrol, can anyone hear me?” Static.

Ibram could hear noises off in the far distance. Screaming, Shouting, Clanging…The Alarm klaxon was still blaring, and periodical shockwaves shook the ship. The Captain had said the fleet was under attack, but from whom?

Well if what I’ve witnessed is anything to go by…probably itself.

Ibram had seen several dead bodies cluttering corridors, along with copious amounts of blood smeared on the wall.

Down the corridor from his room he had seen a man with jet black eyes weeping on the floor as he started to eat the corpse of a comrade he had evidently just killed. Ibram shot him in the face. A crazed storm trooper had also tried to kill him by the turbo lift, but Ibram put him down with his bayonet.

Thank the stars for CQC. Along with the bayonet, his uncle had provided some army training material.

“This is Petty Officer Ibram Tyrol, can anyone-““Ibram! Is that you!?”

Ibram paused. “Lieutenant Jaden?”

“Frak! Yeh its me, where are you!?” Ibram could here shouting and gunfire over the com.

“Sir!? I’m on Level 217, delta block. Corridor…..9 What’s going on?”

“The whole fleets gone crazy. The Suspense opened fire on the Atrus, and other ships in the fleet have turned on one another. Even the crews have gone crazy! I’m holed up in the hanger bay with a bunch of pilots and some mechanics. We got a bunch of crazies trying to kill us!”

Ibram cursed. “Ok, I’m coming to you sit tight!” “See if you can find any other survivors. Get them to the hanger!” Ibram heard an explosion, and the com went dead.

Gak it. Ibram was still a good 15 minutes away from the Hanger where all of the volunteer’s ships were stored. He picked up his pace.

--------------------------------------------------

“Sir! We have major damage on decks 9 through 30, gamma block!”

“Sir! Riots reported all over the ship! Half the crew is going crazy!”

“Sir! The Luminescence is coming around! I think she’s going to fire on us too!”

Rear-Admiral Riel Fury, SCAP of the SSD Atrus, shuddered in anger.

What in the name of creation is going on!?

He had thought this would be just a routine patrol. Nobody had the stomach to cause trouble during the holiday season, nobody. Especially in VE space, since trouble makers weren’t treated too kindly if they disturbed the peace at such a time.

Admiral Fury had decided to volunteer this year, since it was his first holiday run as the new Captain of the Atrus. He had been impressed with the ship, and had implemented a few changes and styles of his now. Now, just when he thought things were going a smooth as ever, the chaos emerged.

The Admiral looked back at the Tactical Display. The Suspense was giving a heavy broadside to the Atrus, whilst one of the Victory-class star destroyers, the Luminescence had turned about, and was heading towards the Atrus as well. Two other Victory’s we’re firing at each other, along with scores of other smaller ships. The only other ISD in the fleet, the Respite, had suffered some sort of internal power failure, and was dead in the water.

This is madness! –This is your fate.

The Admiral started. Who the frak was that? –You know me. I know you. The cycle has come again.

The Admiral stared out the view port, out into the vastness of space. Ignoring the fleet, ignoring his bridge crew…he could sense something out there. He felt a sudden pain in his head, and caught a flash of a cackling woman dressed all in black. His insides turned to ice. You!?

-Yes. The Cycle has come. All shall know my laughter, and all shall fall into madness as I shatter their dreams.

The Admiral could see the woman clearly now. She was coming towards him. Arm outstretched.

-Join me, and you may yet survive.

The Admiral fell to his kness. We’ve known about you’re coming. I know what you are! I shall never…never… he could feel his will breaking. He found it hard to breath.

-Join me.

No!

-Join me.

No!

-Join me.

NO!

-JOIN ME!!!! The woman screeched, and tried to grab the Admiral by the throat. Acting upon reflex, the Admiral took out his concealed lightsaber, and swung.

“Never!!” He cried. The head of the communications officer fell to the floor, her face slack, her eyes as black as night. It took a moment for the Admiral to realise what had happened.

She must have been using another proxy.

He looked around, and saw several crew members staring fixedly at his drawn lightsaber.

Frak. This is going to raise a lot of questions.

Putting away his lightsaber, the Admiral moved smartly to his command chair, and sat down. He spoke into the ship's intercom.

“Attention, this is the Admiral. I have strong evidence to believe that a number of the crew have been possessed by some sort of dark presence. Tell Tale signs are blackened eyes, and unusual behaviour.” He almost chuckled to himself at that one. “All loyalist crew members are to secure the ship, and shoot any of the possessed on-sight.”

He switched off the coms, and turned to his still scared bridge crew.

“Well what are you staring at? Get back to work! Sergeant, secure the bridge. Damage control, get repair teams to vital systems, try and stabilise them. Send escorts. Reroute non-essential functions to shield and weapons. Helm, steady as she goes, cut engines by 50%.”

He brought up the tactical display once again.

“Someone get on the coms and find out what ships are still loyal.”

He highlighted the Suspense and the Luminescence.

“Weapons, fix on renegade targets and fire at will.”

He sat back in his chair, face grim.

“Cleanse my fleet of this insanity” 

OOC:

Note: slight reference to the VE DJO here. Let me know if it is ok. I know I’ve been “godding” Riel slightly, but because I was writing from his ‘POV’ it is plausible to assume that he himself will make references to the DJO, and in this case, accidentally reveal certain things under stress. If there is a problem I will remove that section.

1,125 words. Give or take.