With a wry smile, the image of Gargoyle brought his arms up to cross upon his chest, his hands clenched into fists, before jerking them to his sides. A salute? He - no - it is mocking me. The image spun on its heels, marching in the direction of the far wall. Its arms swung back and forth, drumming to the sound of hard leather heels on the star-speckled floor. And with each beat, a shroud of darkness reached farther and farther outwards, blotting out more stars as it passed, before receeding to form a cloak of shadow at the projected feet of Gargoyle.
Marek closed his eyes. I need to think. The drum pulsed on, blackened his own thoughts. And then it stopped. He opened his eyes to darkness. The stars were extinguished. Again? He rubbed his forehead, pressing his frustrations across his brow. "Come on," he muttered. "Get on with it." Marek waited, his teeth clenched. And nothing happened.
He growled into his chest and barked out into the darkness. "For Irkalla's sake!" Marek exhaled sharply. "Is all this drama really necessary?"
Gargoyle's cackle rang out from above him. I've had enough of this lunatic! The laughter died off into an intermittent crackling noise. It was a familiar sound. And was it coming from above him? Marek pressed his head backwards, and felt the chair lurch beneath him. It was unlocked again. As he spun towards the ceiling, he discovered light once more. There were a dozen dim clusters of stars spread above his head. The crackle re-emerged in their midst, seeming to jump across the void, spreading stars in its wake. As he watched, the crackling noise spread across the ceiling, growing in strength; he revolved his chair to watch it leap to the walls and the floor. It finished with a roar at his feet. It sounds like a burning forest, he thought.
A loud pop, as if fire had burst out from the heart of a tree, brought his eyes up from the floor and into orbit. A dark grey orb lay before him. It was small enough to fit into his hands and yet... as he stared at it, it seemed to grow to fill... everything. His eyes found themselves soaring past clouds and mountains; past an ocean of ice, feeding fingers of water that reached down across the planet's dark surface; past cities growing from the ground and even the sky itself, each filled with thousands of the horn and spiral shaped buildings he'd seen on the console earlier. His eyes lept upon a city, and fell within the structures, each alive with light and shapes crawling within them. As he flew by the buildings, one of the shapes turned and looked at him; it was alive with legs and eyes. And suddenly he was falling back into orbit, passing thousands of gleaming silver discs in thrall to one another, all spinning in synchrony, and threaded across the upper atmosphere like a ring. Marek blinked and the planet was an orb once more, the existence of rings and cities only a memory upon its surface. That was unbelievable, he thought, his frustration forgotten.
Marek closed his eyes. I need to think. The drum pulsed on, blackened his own thoughts. And then it stopped. He opened his eyes to darkness. The stars were extinguished. Again? He rubbed his forehead, pressing his frustrations across his brow. "Come on," he muttered. "Get on with it." Marek waited, his teeth clenched. And nothing happened.
He growled into his chest and barked out into the darkness. "For Irkalla's sake!" Marek exhaled sharply. "Is all this drama really necessary?"
Gargoyle's cackle rang out from above him. I've had enough of this lunatic! The laughter died off into an intermittent crackling noise. It was a familiar sound. And was it coming from above him? Marek pressed his head backwards, and felt the chair lurch beneath him. It was unlocked again. As he spun towards the ceiling, he discovered light once more. There were a dozen dim clusters of stars spread above his head. The crackle re-emerged in their midst, seeming to jump across the void, spreading stars in its wake. As he watched, the crackling noise spread across the ceiling, growing in strength; he revolved his chair to watch it leap to the walls and the floor. It finished with a roar at his feet. It sounds like a burning forest, he thought.
A loud pop, as if fire had burst out from the heart of a tree, brought his eyes up from the floor and into orbit. A dark grey orb lay before him. It was small enough to fit into his hands and yet... as he stared at it, it seemed to grow to fill... everything. His eyes found themselves soaring past clouds and mountains; past an ocean of ice, feeding fingers of water that reached down across the planet's dark surface; past cities growing from the ground and even the sky itself, each filled with thousands of the horn and spiral shaped buildings he'd seen on the console earlier. His eyes lept upon a city, and fell within the structures, each alive with light and shapes crawling within them. As he flew by the buildings, one of the shapes turned and looked at him; it was alive with legs and eyes. And suddenly he was falling back into orbit, passing thousands of gleaming silver discs in thrall to one another, all spinning in synchrony, and threaded across the upper atmosphere like a ring. Marek blinked and the planet was an orb once more, the existence of rings and cities only a memory upon its surface. That was unbelievable, he thought, his frustration forgotten.
A wall of fire and heat burst in front of him. He threw his hands up to his face, jumping back in his seat and sending the chair spiralling backwards. He came to rest with his head near the floor, staring at the room behind him. The heat that had licked at him was gone. Marek slowed his breathing, guiding the beating within his chest to a gentle rhythm. He felt light-headed. Marek brought the chair forward once more.
Tens of thousands of lights now glinted from orbit of the planet. As he examined them, his eyes accelerated forward, alighting within their midst. They were ships, but not like those of Prime. They were grey as the planet below and completely round, but for a single spiral extending from their bow and four short wings at their aft, surrounding an aperture glowing a brilliant white. They moved gracefully together, each separated by no more than meters. And yet they spun and weaved, never colliding, and always in synchrony. They must be fighters. But how do they move like that?
Marek turned his head to examine the planet and found himself in the room, examining the scene from afar. As the chair turned, he noted a new collection of ships, this one much larger than the other. It was a fleet of hundreds of thousands. His eyes drew him within the ships once more. But these were familiar. It was a fleet of the League.
There were squadrons of fighters, flying together. They were sloppy. There was little to no coordination between them. Just meat, he thought. Marek shuddered. The wings of the fighters reached forward towards their cockpits, like the blades of sicles blunted by all the death they had harvested over the years. He shifted his eyes and found himself surrounded by flying daggers: thousands of heavy cruisers. Waves of distortions in the light rippled off their surfaces, a consequence of the negative energy used to propel their warp drives. As he watched, debris from what could only have been a collision between fighters ran across the bow of a ship, only to dissolve in a burst of green fire from the shields.
Some movement at the corner of his eyes caught his attention, bringing him back to the room. The console displayed a small image of the planet and the ships in its proximity. He pressed his finger to the image, and data on the planet and the ships in orbit appeared next to it. Fifty thousand fighters. Shielding. Ten planetary rings. It explained the discs he'd seen. He'd never seen rings up close before, let alone from what could only be an alien planet, but the name made sense now. And there was another notation: CCA, factor 20. There was a command center algorithm in place. The weapons and the navigation of the ships in orbit were hooked up to a central computer: a good one. That explained their coordination.
"Let's see what we have to work with," Marek muttered to himself. He pressed his finger to the League fleet, flooding the console with data. Marek whistled aloud. Fifty thousand heavy cruisers and four hundred thousand fighters. He spoke into the air, "I think this is overkill, don't you?"
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