With a vicious swing, Lord Eldral leapt out from behind the felled stanchion, his armoured forearm swinging in a swift arc that connected with the throat of an advancing alien. A brittle crunch echoed over the sounds of heated combat and the lithe figure was cast back, sprawling onto the deck plates as another shudder ran through the superstructure. The explosions were issuing from the suicidal self destructs of his crew, detonating the power cells of their cybernetic armour rather than risk capture.

Three other inhuman forms presented their bodies to his synthetic gaze, the warped forms grown from the bodies of Phed Dregakk. Instantly his visor offered surface scans and tactical detail on them, presenting him with a catalogue of unknowns. The captured had been altered in the bio hives of the enemy and given sanguinary purpose against their besieged comrades, all previous trace of their identity erased or suppressed. The bodyguards were grim parodies of their former selves, hunched and twisted, skin dense and thorny, fingers hooked claws, heads filled with fangs and mandibles to rend and destroy.

Dropping the assault cannon into the grasp of his other arm, the Warmaster cradled the long weapon and opened fire. The cluster of barrels span into a snarling whir of motion, becoming a smudge of movement that lit up with incredibly rapid strobe pulses of flickering blue. The stream of fire spattered a creature’s chest with bright splashes of sparks, the bolts etching rough dents as they pounded the beast, seeking vulnerable spots. A slash of claws swept out, catching the weapon and splitting open the casing, the ragged tear filled with arcs of loosed energy, causing it to fall silent, damaged beyond repair.

Releasing the firearm, he whirled out of his attackers’ reach and threw up his arm. His cloak billowed behind him, the braids of silver and bone decorating his armour dancing in the ailing light of the corridor as he took point blank aim. The blaster mounted along his forearm chattered rapidly with sapphire pulses, the searing coughs of energy boring into the dark skinned monsters. Each accurately smashed the natural armour at their throats and ripped open the soft flesh to send them spinning away. Clutching the ragged craters that had been drilled into them, they dropped in rapid succession, dark blood seeping from the mortal trauma while they pawed weakly upon the ground, the talons gouging thin trenches during their death throes.

Waving to his fellow Phed Dregakk warriors, the Warmaster of Terra marched down the corridor, proud and defiant of his enemy’s might, stubbornly pledging not to wilt before them. He was determined to show the aggressors that the Dregakk Theocracy was a force they could not trifle with and live to boast about.

Having been given command of his old fleet, Eldral had left the colony and his family to meet the invaders who had been steadily gnawing into their borders for numerous solar cycles. The foe used adaptive organic technology, modifying raw biological material and forging it into the configurations to suit their purposes. Since the first skirmishes they had been plundering entire worlds, stripping them of every living cell to create war machines and lethal organic engines to carry on the fight. They relentlessly upgraded their designs with each battle, improving and adapting so swiftly that the Dregakk were finding it increasingly difficult to even slow their advance.

A section of overhead ducts suddenly burst out, the torn flaps unfurling to allow exit for a flaccid-skinned octopod. The numerous tentacles flailed wildly as the beast landed on the warrior directly behind Eldral, the tendrils ensnaring him and holding firm while the soldier roared and tried to throw the creature off. A cruel stinger curled up and flashed down, piercing the armour with a metallic tone to inject a weighty load of digestive enzymes. The creatures were a grotesque part of any first attack wave before they took the role of skirmishers. The octopi paralysed their prey and then slowly broke down the harvested raw materials, storing them in glutenous sacs for later collection by their creators.

Without hesitation Eldral opened fire, whirling and shooting into the bulbous bag that was the body of the beast, resolutely ignoring the ghastly lost outlines of a slender face still prevalent on the side. The countenance was no doubt deliberately left behind to distract the less stalwart Dregakk with this reminder of what it had once been, but he would not be fazed by it. The swollen orb erupted with blossoming caverns, opening the creature and splashing a viscous sludge across the wall, the dissolved essence of his former crew being released when the storage sacs were breached by this pitiless attack.

The beast went slack and the warrior holding it collapsed, lifeless and inert, already as good as dead from the poison in his veins. Another trooper snatched the raw cadaver and hauled it off before casting the invertebrate aside. Launching a trio of cyan blasts into it, the veteran soldier gouged it open and scattered scorched morsels in all directions, venting his rage while ensuring it was truly dead.

Proceeding deeper, they started to find the ensnared cocoons of more Dregakk and Human slaves. Their bodies were locked within translucent skintight shells, the smothering cells keeping them in a comatose state, awaiting collection and reprocessing. Instantly the Dregakk flicked up the wicked combat blades incorporated into their vambraces and began to cut open the film about their fellows. They unfailingly deserted the slaves in favour of tending their own casualties, giving them the valuable first aid that would start the long process of recovering from the embrace of the supple membrane.

Continuing with speed, another four of the converted monsters stomped into view through a haze of soot filled smog, claws outstretched upon a sprinting advance, heads kept low to protect their vulnerable throats.

‘Fire at will formation! Go for the necks!’ roared Eldral, his authoritative command crushing all thought of flight and causing an immediate clatter of frenzied movement from his squad.

The Dregakk fell into ordered rows, weapons raised and firing swiftly into the beasts, the bolts sparking in a futile manner upon their bodies. Denied streaks of pernicious blue ricocheted aside to afflict the walls of the corridor, punching holes and slicing molten wounds. Desperation started to rise automatically while the creatures relentlessly closed in, hissing softly, untroubled by the multiple impacts. Those placed into the weak spot at their throats succeeded in splitting the harsh shell, but the damage was far too inconsequential to halt them. The Dregakk fired with increasing haste, frantic, the monsters almost on top of them. Only the last point blank shots in moments of insane tension opened the weak spot and felled the aberrations. The bodies fell mere feet from the distraught ranks with a slamming impact that made the deck quiver.

The rows of warriors immediately continued discharging vengeful streams into the downed monsters, finishing them while the creatures wriggled and squeaked, holding to their lives with an engineered tenacity.

Jumping across the slain, Eldral ran forth, blood lust burning like the heart of a star. The location of the breach where the insurgents were coming from was located nearby, a promising site for the first possible capture of an alien vessel.

Whirling into a corridor, Eldral ducked a clawed swipe, the hand ripping open a section of wall, exposing raw circuits and severing a power conduit. The arcs of jagged lightning that licked out from the gash played harmlessly at the monster’s fingertips while Eldral launched his blade for use. The knife snapped into place and vibrated into a blur of frenetic motion. With a jab he plunged the oscillating serrated weapon into the exposed throat, the quivering tip boring through with amazing ease. Rising from his crouch to turn the blade and gouge the flesh, he jerked his other arm to the second beast, which was already in the motions of casting a claw back to deliver a lethal hack. The balled fist of black armour pressed to its collarbones and a flash of sapphire light lit up the bleak hide. The soft meat caved in and the scent of burned tissues washed outward, slipping through Eldral’s respirator to tickle his nostrils.

The beast jerked twice in shock and toppled, striking the deck with a resonant clang, denting the metal. Wrenching his blade free, Eldral retracted the augmented armament and checked the view. The point of ingress was immediately apparent, the grown biological pathway contrasting massively to the stark metal of Dreggak craftsmanship. The ribbed tube had punched through the hull and thrown out long tendrils and cilia that had fixed to the walls to hold the alien craft to his war cruiser. While the main alien force spearheaded a drive towards the command decks, as was their well versed tactic, he had led his elite veterans of the Terra campaign in an assault upon the hopefully undefended alien ship. It seemed as though his gamble had worked. If they could enter the craft, the marauding trespassers would have to retreat to recover their base of operations, allowing the Dregakk to smash them as they retreated. At the same moment his own forces would run out to catch them in a lethal crossfire. If they managed to take this ship, it would be the first step in analyzing the minutiae of their more advanced enemy and finding a weakness the Theocracy might exploit.

The octopod creatures were slithering from the intruding corridor, squirming into the ventilation system, the maintenance passages, all the covert nooks and crannies where they might lose themselves, the hidden mazes permitting the opportunity to attack without warning. The sight of them made his blood burn. The thought of losing to these scum fired his rancour. The Dregakk would not fall, the Theocracy would survive and prosper. He would not let his people perish, not while breath lingered in his body and strength dwelt in his limbs.

‘For the Goddess!’ he howled, throwing off his helmet and casting it aside, throwing back his hair and jumping into a sprint, his features contorted with fury.

Without breaking his advance, Eldral ran on, firing into them, blasting the creatures as he bellowed in rage, lost in a red haze of berserker fury, reflexes honed and ready. In reply, the beasts exploded from the walls and ceiling, tentacles outstretched in expectation, only to meet the burning stab of caustic power that cleaved through their soft bodies, tentacles denied access to him. Where they evaded his bolts, the eager blade slit them open so he might crush them under foot with spat insults.

Jumping into the alien tube, he bounded down the slick passage. The ground was moist, walls laden with veins and throbbing capillaries, the structure presenting the same image as being inside a huge living entity. A guardian creature emerged from a side passage, stepping out and then twirling aside with the volley of lethal bolts Eldral poured into its throat before using his knife to finish it. The hatred upon his coup de grace swing nearly decapitated the creature.

One of the alien architects of the vessel fired a paralysing beam, the bolt sailing through empty air as Eldral nimbly sidestepped and threw up his forearm.

‘You only get one chance, freak!’ he sneered and placed a bolt directly between the startled alien’s large almond shaped eyes, the black ovals betraying no hint of emotion as a plume of gore erupted from the back of its skull. How he hated their visage because of its lack of feeling. He liked to see the fear, the terror of assured death at his hands, but from these skeletal automatons there was nothing, just vacant indifference, lifeless, empty.

Moving deeper, the sound of his comrades trying to keep up reached his ears as they entered the alien craft, following his reckless assault, inspired to commit havoc by his example.

A tall chamber offered some hope of a command centre, but instead he found walls of strange hives, wherein lay captured Dregakk and Humans. Their forms were pierced by strange intruding stilettos, the devices siphoning away their bodies, reprocessing them as though they were any other raw material, feeding the ship and its masters. Two of the aliens were tending the imprisoned, the soft muted cries of fresh additions seeping through the sealed sphincters that were the doors to the tiny sarcophagi. The beings turned, levelling arcanely fashioned weapons as Eldral dove aside and into a roll, evading their rapid fire, pulses of soft light splashing against the meat of the ship and leaving it unaffected. Eldral’s response was less tender and a spitting arc tore clumps of jagged flesh from the wall in a steady line before crossing the bodies of the aliens, splitting open their grey-skinned chests, punching them from their feet and sending them awkwardly to the ground.

Walking through, he spied a familiar shape and stopped to peer in. His first mate lay bound, eyes rolled back in hollow sockets as his flesh slowly shrivelled onto his bones with the theft of his vitality, the cruel pipes gulping his insides.

Eldral put his hand to the muscular wall and let it wither into a fist as shock turned to renewed loathing. They had been comrades for many years and Urekk had kept an unambitious eye on Eldral’s back through the tricky road to command. They had butchered worlds together and now he lay broken and pillaged. It was no way for a fellow warrior Dregakk to die.

‘My revenge will earn you a place with the Goddess, Urekk,’ he swore and without compunction, gave his battle brother a swift death through a cascade of sapphire bolts.

Taking the only route out, he stepped onto a slender corridor, a ribcage of bone strengthening the structure as it led to a larger chamber beyond. The humid air was suddenly alive with fulgent beams, the poised squad at the end defending a place of obvious strategic importance. With a spasm he threw himself aside, narrowly evading the crippling shots and landing heavily on his side to slide to the wall upon the slick surface of the ground. Dragging himself upright, Eldral smiled with vicious intent and unclipped a pair of grenades from his belt. Tapping the firing mechanism of the twin cylinders, he took a breath, jerked out and threw them with all his strength at the far end of the passage before dancing back into cover and out of the renewed and dense volley of stark beams.

‘A gift from Urekk, freaks!’ he yelled.

Counting off the few remaining seconds in his head, he smiled and grabbed the wall for support, the reverberating explosion sending a virulent shockwave through the vessel. A piercing tone of an incredibly high pitch filled the air, as though the ship itself was screaming in pain. A wall of hot air thundered from the passage, washing over his armoured frame and buffeting him with chaotic eddies and harsh turbulence.

Hurling himself onto the path, he ran through the smoke, working by sound and vague shape in the moments of his enemy’s dazed recovery. Vaulting through the portal and over the raw pits of tissue in the floor that bled a thick viscous gel of glowing blue, he fired on the maimed survivors. Executing them with accurately placed blasts, he swiftly neutralised the remaining bridge crew, causing skulls to erupt and chests to burst.

Stepping into the centre of the circular hall, he looked across the strange organic controls and view ports. The screens showed depictions of his craft, the surrounding area and even views through the eyes of the genetically altered creations they were using against his crew. The sights of his fellow Dregakk fighting and dying under heavy claws fed his rage and bestowed a sense of impotence because he could do nothing to aid them from here, as the language and script flowing around and across the screens was unknown to him. Collections of lung like clusters on the ceiling were dragging away the smoke and the wounds on the ship were swiftly congealing, removing the trauma he had inflicted.

Turning from the room with a sense of victorious triumph, he activated his communication link and told his trailing troops to fan out into the ship, kill all resistance and hold their positions. Already the enemy were detecting the loss of the vessel and were heading back. The sudden turn in the tide of their assault caused the Dregakk to renew the fight with vigour, the scent of victory inspiring them to sanguinary acts as they cut down the fleeing forces. They had taken the ship, it was theirs and the fate of the Theocracy depended on the secrets they could glean from it.

*****

The slender beauties of the Holy Order dragged Theresa from under the High Theocrat’s gaze and into the winding labyrinthine corridors of the church. The echo of her own screams of torment were still heavy within her ears and successfully drowned out the collective signal wafting down the gloomy passages: the sound of hundreds, perhaps thousands of miserable howls and murmurs, the despairing slaves and captives announcing themselves to uncaring owners, uniting in an orchestra to sing their own melancholy lament. Only once she started to become aware of it did the effects weigh truly in her mind. The saturated grief and pain made her shiver in dread, the prospect of being reduced to such a state that she might join them being one that chilled her very soul.

A door closed and muffled the droning background symphony and she faintly detected a room about her before hands were upon her. They kept her pinioned, while also exploiting the chance to play at the implements still attached to her, trophies of the mob she had been exposed to for her attempted and futile escape. The restoration of all the old ferocity swept back into the wounds, the immersed hooks and barbs responding sourly to any attempt at movement, the implements of torture having grown comfortable in their fleshy nuggets and reluctant to part without a fight.

Shrieking, she tried to fight the removal, but she was being held down too effectively, the long march through the city streets and the violations and atrocities perpetrated on her helpless frame had stolen her energy, leaving her an enfeebled husk, one that could only holler as the tools were drawn out or broken to permit their flight. Churning spots of fire rolled upon her hide, the methodical process of extraction driving her into wild convulsions, the slide of metal from her pierced skin a sensation of the darkest and most stringent kind.

The final marks of harsh affection were lost and Theresa fell into a deep coma, her body losing an already tenuous grip on consciousness. The styptic aura of a tissue regenerator brushed her wounds as darkness began to envelop her thoughts, imparting a token effect to stop the bleeding, but choosing not to address the complete healing of her trauma.