After Manolo's disappearance, it was Domingo's turn to be attacked. They were about to reach the engine room when he fell to the ground for no apparent reason. The soldier hit the floor face-first with a thud that startled everyone.
He grunted out of pain and rolled over to get up. "What the..."
Carmelo shushed him and made him stop. Domingo froze in place.
For a couple of seconds nobody moved as if not daring to disturb the quietness that had presented itself. But there was nothing around. Carmelo was the one to shake it. He patted Domingo on the back and extended him a hand, encouraging the man to get back on his feet at last. At his boss' gesture, Domingo relaxed and extended his hand in return.
They have never found each other's grip. Domingo's body jolted off the floor and hit the ceiling before Carmelo could understand what was going on. He was still processing the image of Domingo reaching for his hand when the sound of the shattering bones hit his ears. His brain faltered. It was so overwhelming, he stumbled back and fell on his bottom. He couldn't reconcile his thoughts. He had a puzzled and vague look on his face as he finally reached out for the emptiness.
He looked back to his people to see desperation in their eyes. They had looked for hours to find nothing but destruction and death. Four of them were gone and he couldn't begin to comprehend what it was that had killed them. A man was just killed in front of him and he couldn't understand how. Carmelo felt dizzy.
He found the entrance to the engine room. "There has got to be some escape pods down there still," he said to himself as he got up. "We leave this haunted ship now."
They entered the engine room, caution (for the most part) thrown to the wind, knowing that nothing they did would stop whatever the hell was attacking them. The large room housed the reactor, which went from floor to the vaulted ceiling four stories up, gently humming as it produced the energy necessary to run the ship. Since it was a stationary battleship, the engines were offline. Computer consoles were all over the place, covering the walls as well, but most were dark. Towards the back and left was a door that had 'escape pods' over it, advertising their potential escape. They started for it, but then it started.
It was a low-pitched moaning that gradually gained intensity, climbing up to a high-pitched squeal. Everyone was visibly shaken - everyone, that is, except for Angelica. It came from everywhere, from the very walls it seemed. Carmelo, finally losing what fingernail grip on control he had left, broke into a run for the escape pods. Then, ten meters from the door, they appeared. Angelica was smiling as if she was seeing an old friend. There they floated, humans frozen in their tracks, ghosts floating in front of them. They seemed pained, almost as if they had asthma and it was acting up. Gray was laced with the blue mist, and they were drooping just a little.
Lightning bolts flared from on of them, striking Samuel and forcing him across the room, as he slammed into the wall everyone saw that he was burnt to a crisp. Angelica clapped with a chortle of delight. The soldiers were yelling, shooting in a vain hope that it would work. Vain, that is, until the shots connected with the ghosts. It seemed to increase their weird sickness. They shrieked and flew into the air, howling like banshees and circling, trying to get closer to the soldiers. Their fire kept hitting, the ghosts kept on screaming and apparently weakening, and finally they threw all their strength at Anibal, who was struck by a lightning bolt as well. He joined Samuel at the far side of the room, crispy.
Something amazing happened - one of the ghosts let off a scream and flew through the ceiling, as if retreating to some unknown plane. The other quickly followed suit as another shot hit it. Carmelo looked around in shock, as if surprised to be alive. Angelica seemed disappointed that the violence had ended. Santos and Consuela were the only others still alive, and were a bit edgy. Carmelo motioned them to keep moving, there was no way to tell what had happened, but they couldn't help asking themselves: had they truly won, or was it just a ploy?
The Necrosis was rarely in Omega 47. Corsairs and Hessians killing each other. Usually, when people were doing that, Mon'star was quite happy to let them carry on.
But bounty hunters had picked up the Necrosis's trail in Omega 50, and Mon'Star had given them the slip, but wanted to double back to Omega 49 to visit the Zoners.
PSI-Borg was on-screen, as always, and appeared puzzled. Artificial intelligence rarely is puzzled, so Mon'star's interest was naturally piqued.
What, pray tell, is bothering you, PSI?
Master, I'm picking up transmissions from the Corsair Battleship Fez. Chaotic ones. It sounds.. he paused, trying to interpret the mixed sounds and broadcast images. It sounds like the Fez has been boarded.. By Outcasts.
Mon'star laughed. Interesting, it would seem someone is throwing a party on the Fez and didnt send us an invitation. Borgy, we have a party to crash! Set course for the Fez.
Within minutes, the Necrosis was in visual range of the Fez. PSI-Borg was busy trying to hack the Osiris's internal systems in search of more information.
One docking bay was clearly heavily damaged. Smoke and air came from fissures in the mighty ship's hull at that location.
That part of the ship was damaged by a nuke mine, PSI-Borg explained to his very enthralled master.
Master, I have hacked access to the internal camera system. Displaying on our video screens now.
Camera after camera played out on the Necrosis's main view screen, telling a tale of carnage. Mon'star rose slowly from his chair. MonStar was impressed, not an easy task considering his dubious reputation.
The final scene played across the viewscreen, PSI-Borg narrating nonchalantly from the speaker system, like a tour guide on one of New London's famous double decker buses.
This is the bridge, and that pile of corpses is, or rather used to be, the bridge crew. The corpse on the very top, who looks badly bruised, is the Captain of the ship, named Alec Lekkas, according to the Osiris's database. He appears to have been killed in a way I have never seen before. Other than that, Master, frankly, it looks like your work.
Mon'star was still standing, and began nodding slowly, and smiling. Oh, PSI, I simply must meet those who threw this party. They appear to be my kind of people.
PSI Borg spoke quickly. Master, it appears you will get that chance. There are two Sabres launching from the Fez now.
"Onscreen", said Mon'star.
The two Sabres turned after leaving the slaughterhouse otherwise known as the Fez. They approached the Necrosis cautiously, and slowed to a crawl.
There seems to be much more than meets the eye to these two. MonStar said as he stroked his beard slowly, What do you make of that blue glow?
"I do not know Master.", PSI explained, "but I am trying to hack the internal ship systems of both Sabres."
There was a pause as PSI Borg played digital chess in the 'minds' of the Sabres, trying to wrest control of the small fighters.
"Strange, Master. I cannot hack control. There are no live analog or digital inputs, no interfaces with other computers, and no evidence of controls actually in use, but something is controlling each of those ships. I have to try...."
PSI Borg's digital face froze in mid sentence. Monstar turned to PSI-Borg's viewscreen only to find it blank.
"Much more than meets the eye indeed.
------------------------------------------------
A ship. An outcast destroyer. Here.
After leaving the Fez, the Sabres had approached the Necrosis. They were close now.
Something probing the Sabres' electronics. A mind. Not human. A cold mind. Hard and precise. No rage. No fear. No hate. No love. Just pure obedience.
A mind they wished to know better. And so they would.
-------------------------------------------------
The screen flickered. PSI-Borg's visage came and went. A godawful howling, pure anguish, came over the intercom. Voices pleading, but for what, it was not clear.
The howling faded. The image of PSI-Borg was returning slowly. MonStar watched patiently, still standing motionless except for stroking his beard nonchalantly, while the fate of his minion lay in the balance. The image of PSI-Borg was completely restored now, and he looked around the room, reorienting himself. There was one very important difference however.
Now PSI-Borg's eyes glowed blue, not red. He spoke. His voice was at least the same.
"Master. I am back now. And they are with me."
Monstar looked at PSI-Borg and smiled devilishly. He could sense something was different, aside from the change in eye color, and what he sensed.he liked.
"Yes I do sense a change. The eye color suits you my pet. Oh, but that isnt all is it? Tell me, how was your little adventure?
PSI-Borg smiled. "I think you will like how it turned out."
"Oh?" MonStars eye glowed with excitement, Did you make some new friends?
"Yes. They are here, with me, but also, still out there, in the Sabres. They do not control me, nor I them. Think of them as observers, using my eyes."
PSI Borg continued. "Master, try to imagine what it would be like to be a conciousness, alone in space. Able to assume only somewhat tangible form. Trying to remember what you were, and hoping desperately to anchor yourself to a purpose, ANY purpose."
"Master, I have given them something tangible to cling to, to keep them firmly anchored in reality. Otherwise they would have faded away, and soon; they were weakening. I have communed with them, and my mind may be the only one in existence that can abide the images they are showing me, without going mad. Well, except maybe yours."
"And you, Master, well, you can give them a purpose. One that suits them very well."
PSI-Borg paused, then gave a look that showed a hint of psychosis which Monstar had never seen before in his sidekick.
"You see, Master, they HATE. Hate like even you could not possibly believe. You of all people should be able to help them release that particular emotion."
"Introductions are now in order. Master, the Fantasmas de la Nube Siniestra. Gentlemen, meet Mon'star the Red. We have heard of your work, right, Master?"
Monstar sat down in the command chair, in thought. He had heard of the Fantasmas. Thought it was all just rumour. But then, some said Mon'star was just a legend, too.
His grin grew, slowly getting wider and wider until his trademark laugh shook the ship, louder than it had for some time.
"A partnership forged through the bodies of the innocent, and the only payment they require is gore, blood, death, and destruction? We can get that for them. Oh yes, lots of that."
He laughed some more. "PSI, I'd love to spend time getting better acquainted with our guests, and I know of only one way to get to know them better. Ask them to dock and well make course for somewhere.populated"
The Sabres instantly began flying to the docking bay, which opened to allow entrance. Soon the Necrosis was cruising, putting ever increasing distance between the Fez and MonStar's ship. Soon scouts for a Corsair response to the Fezs distress call appeared on long range sensors only to find a gruesome scene of murder and unbridled fury. And no trace of who did it.
As the Necrosis sped away, Mon'Star was enthralled by the prospects presented by the new crewmen. The path of destruction he left in his wake would widen greatly, and that made him happy
As the mad, mad little world of the Necrosis jumped back into the core worlds of Sirius, MonStar opened a system wide channel as he typically did to announce the upcoming wave of desolation. He grabbed the small microphone from the arm of his command chair, and took a long draw of a freshly lit cigar whose ember glowed brightly across the darkened bridge of the Necrosis.
"Mission : to explore strange new worlds and new civilizations, to boldly go where no man has gone before, and.... KILL EVERYBODY!!"
The living were disgusting. Heartbeats, a mocking metronome giving the beat to which they lived their puny lives, were what repulsed them the most, drawing them to silence them. The two apparitions strode past the Fes' corridors of broken panels and bloody corpses in pursue of the remaining clicking little hearts.
While the suffering and terror of the living were delicious, the more they killed, the sicker they became. Vince was the first to notice it, he felt himself what Renato had described happened to him around the Bounty Hunters in Tau-23. Their bodies condensed and dissolved back at each spasm. These spasms were marked by erratic bolts of lighting racing through their bodies. He could also see... cords, almost, leading back to somewhere and attached to both him and Renato.
Still, something impelled them to destruction and carnage, even though the lives of their tortured victims were weighing them down, dragging them to... somewhere.
Finally, as the last two died the spasms reached a crescendo and they felt a searing pain. The cords went taut and they flew to it. Fields of white, like the beginning, only this time, they saw faces...
"Take them elsewhere," a hazy voice urged. "Don't bring them in here. It's not safe."
Vince tried to focus and make faces out of the speaking shadows he was seeing, but he was too disoriented to do so.
Renato felt like throwing up, even though the spasms were getting better, he was still sick. He felt like having a sip of water to take away the sour taste in his mouth. He opened his eyes and tried to understand where he was, but all he saw was a light blur. His retinas shrunk so fast to adapt he felt dizzy. He tried getting up, but his muscles screamed in pain. It felt like a hundred shards perforated his skin and flesh. Soon he became lucid enough to realized the body functions assailing him. The sour taste in his mouth; the pounding on his head; the searing pain piercing his muscles; weakness... He hadn't felt any of that since... The thought overwhelmed him and he finally gave in to his sickness.
"They are not going anywhere. You must let us in right now."
At the same rate his muscles calmed down from the convulsions, Vince felt a sharp pain grow and pierce his stomach. Blood gurgled inside his throat and washed his mouth as it did. Despite the distinct scent of iron, it felt stale. A second wave of pain pierced his stomach. Vince pressed it hard with his left hand, but it didn't go away. He supported his weight over his right elbow and tried to get up, but he was too weak. He crawled to reach the blurred figure, but collapsed as he hadn't enough strength. He covered the last few inches reaching with his right hand, grabbing the figure's garments.
It was a dark room, and nightly noises could be heard from outside - the chirp of crickets, the rustle of leaves in the wind, the distant keening of some strange sort of beast. As Vince's mind struggled to consciousness, he took stock of the situation as if he was moving through gelatin. Apparently he was laying in a bed, but that didn't make any sense, as he didn't have a body. As that thought registered, his hand bolted up to where his heart was, to meet... flesh. The thump... thump... thump... of a heartbeat, the gentle movement of breath, the feel of blood circulating in veins and arteries. His hand, of it's own volition, slid to his stomach, to feel unbroken skin. Vince hadn't felt these for a long time. He looked over, and as his eyes adjusted to the light he saw the dim outline of a second bed, and on it another form was breathing in a haggard fashion.
Stumbling out of bed, Vince fell, knees first, to the hard, wooden floor. A sharp jolt jarred him, and a new feeling he hadn't felt in a while - a brief shock of pain - momentarily disorientated him. He was so used to not feeling, what was happening? Crawling to the bed where he presumed Renato slumbered, he shook the form of his fellow prisoner (for surely they had been such previously?) until he woke up. Renato bolted up with a cry, his hand also going to feel his chest, though it probed much of the rest of his body as well. Apparently they both were searching for their killing strokes, but found nothing.
"Renato, what is happening?" Vince asked, hesitantly, yet at the same time bold.
"I'm... I'm not sure."
As they both looked at the door, the knob started to turn.
It was a tense moment. Move, hide, attack, what? Now that the time came for action, a wave of weariness washed across Vince's body; he could only assume Renato felt the same. Before they could decide anything, the knob finished turning, the door swung inward on oiled hinges, and three men came through, arguing. One was obviously angry - outraged, even - another was calm and collected, and the third was passionate. Two sides with one man as of yet undecided, trying to keep it from coming to blows. It all stopped once they saw Vince and Renato awake, and the 'ghosts' decided to hold their ground, puffing up some in order to show that they weren't going to just roll over and die.
"Dios mio! They are awake!" said the one that had been angry. "Do you have any idea - "
"Yes, I do," said the one that had been fighting him moments before. He looked Libertonian. The other was a Corsair. The third man was from Kusari. What was going on here?
"We could be accused of treason, he could - "
"Again, I understand. But we can't just leave them alone, or hand them over to... him..." The way the Libertonian said 'him' left little doubt as to the consequences of such an action for Vince and Renato.
Vince took a few steps forward, too quick for anyone to react, and grabbed the Corsair by the collar, lifting him off his feat and slamming him back against the wall. "What the hell is going on? Where are we?!" Renato was two steps behind him, eying the other two with what would be called "intent".
The Kusarian intervened, "Wait, please," and put a hand over Vince's tensed arm. There was no malice in his voice that either one of the two Outcasts could perceive."We'll explain everything to you," he continued, facing each of his companions in turn, as if measuring their willingness to cooperate with their guests.
The Libertonian nodded expensively, almost solemnly. Neither Vince or Renato figured out exactly what they were arguing about as they entered the room, but it wasn't so wild a guess to imply their argument was about them. From his tone and manners, this one apparently was favoring their side. Whatever that meant.
The Corsair, still pinned against the wall, painfully agreed. His acceptance didn't sound sincere and Vince put more pressure on his hold of him. The Kusarian firmed his hold of Vince's arm, never really pulling it, but as if begging him to release his friend. He then looked the Corsair straight in the eye, as if to graft into his mind the perception of his predicament. Not the fact that Vince had his hands around his neck... In fact, as the two stared at each other, Renato saw the acknowledgement of some other realization that had nothing to do with the risk of Vince crushing the man's throat shut with his hands. Whatever it was, Renato decided he wouldn't be satisfied with their answers until they weren't able to exchange such conspiratory glances amongst themselves.
"All will be explained, friend," the Kusari man said, letting Vince's arm loose. In turn, Vince had on the Corsair slackened, and he fell to the floor, landing on his knees, gasping for breath. He made no move to rise, or retaliate.
"We're all dead," the Libertonian said, then waved his hand around to include all the scenery for his next statement, "and this is the afterlife you see before. That which there is to see, at least. Not everyone comes here. For most its darkness, or some other plane of being we can't perceive."
He walked to the door and opened it, beckoning. "It is easier to explain with visual aid, come with me." The Corsair stayed on the floor, his disapproval apparent. Vince and Renato followed with hesitance, but followed none-the-less. The Kusari man whispered something into the Corsair's ear, then brought up the rear.
Outside was a hallway, grim and bare. At the end was a door framed by light, apparently not fitting the hole it covered correctly. Beyond that door was an altogether bucolic scene, rolling plains, trees, a dirt path. The sky was... white. Whitish-blue. No clouds, or all clouds, it was impossible to say. Everything looked... faded. As if its ethereal qualities made it not reflect light properly, or as if the light itself was too ethereal.
They were led down the dirt path towards the east. It was about noon, as the sun was directly overhead.
"As far as we can tell, this is like no planet we have ever known. It's not spherical, that's for sure... as hard as this is to believe, this place is very much a flat plane." The Libertonian was doing all the talking. "Those whose death is closely related to emotion, strong emotion, usually come here. It is believed that we were not ready to let go of the life we once held."
Vince and Renato followed the Libertonian closely, mindful of their surroundings and of the other two men following them. The bucolic scenery suggested calmness, but both were struck by an incongruent sense of restlessness.
Even though the place seemed to be secluded, Renato expected to see people around the few houses he saw scattered along the path, but there was no one to be found. While the path itself wasn't overgrown, suggesting it was either frequently used or at least taken good care of, the houses by it were derelict, as if they had been abandoned by their dwellers. The way windows and doors were intently shut, however, suggested anything but desertion.
The houses were no more than cabins built of rough logs, neither painting nor varnish evident. The direct exposure to the sun and weather blackened and cracked the wood, giving them something short of a dreadful aura, especially under the shadows of the dense foliage.
All of those houses are occupied, said the Corsair, but people around here have little reason to get out, unless theres a rift nearby. Renato eyed the Corsair for a second at the mention of the term, almost yielding to his curiosity regardless of his animosity towards the man, but withdrew his gaze without saying a word. The Kusarian noticed Renatos discomfort, Its difficult to explain, Renato...
At the mention of Renatos name, both him and Vince stepped back from the group to face the three men. I dont remember us introducing ourselves, Vince questioned, Whats this all about? Its time you three start making sense. Vinces demand did come out incensed, but there was an undertone of anxiety in his voice and Renato wished that he was the only one to have noticed it.
![[Image: outcastsupercopieha6.jpg]](http://img132.imageshack.us/img132/8474/outcastsupercopieha6.jpg)
![[Image: iskariot_4.png]](http://i134.photobucket.com/albums/q97/Zax_Gentoo/iskariot_4.png)
