NationStates Jolt Archive

The Prophecy

"There is nothing," said the monarch, "except the power which you pretend to seek: power to grind and power to digest, power to seek and power to find, power to await and power to claim, all power and pitilessness springing from the nape of the neck... Love is a trick played on us by the forces of evolution. Pleasure is the bait laid down by the same. There is only power. Power is of the individual mind, but the mind's power is not enough. Power of the body decides everything in the end, and only Might is Right."
~T.H. White, The Once and Future King

His name was Tycho Andris. He grew up an ordinary child, in an ordinary family, in an ordinary residence, on the “hub” world of Ondataru, one of the most populated worlds in the whole empire. He went to school, then college, then pursued a graduate degree. He would always remember, however, a simple story he was told long ago – he’d almost forgotten it by college – about the legendary ‘matriarch’ of his people – Anikar. His grandfather, one sunny day as Tycho was playing at war with some action figures, had reflected on the marvelous tale. Long, long ago, in a time mostly lost to memory, everyone had lived on a different world – The Old World, it was called in the now extinct language from ancient times – the races of men fought the elves in a long war of attrition that ended in the tragic destruction of the entire elven heartland, and the death of millions of innocents. A truce was signed, but soon after, a horde of evil orcs boiled forth from the bowels of the earth, intent on war and murder. They drove what remained of elf and man before them in a wave of destruction, hoping to displace the woe-begotten races and reign supreme. However, a woman rose up, and wielding a flaming sword, she took the reigns of the bedraggled armies of good, and fought the orcs. She slowed their advance, stopped it, and then worked a miracle – she began to push that vile black horde back. Over ruined and burnt cities, wasted fields, and smashed citadels she drove the evil creatures back, not stopping until the last orc had flung himself into the vile pits from whence he came. She became a hero beyond imagining. The races of men unified under her and proclaimed her their queen, and she founded a city that became the seat of her empire. From the ruins of the old order, she built a prosperous new nation. Yet, she became too enamored of the power she wielded. It corrupted her, and she began to oppress the people. They suffered, and endured, remembering their debt to her miracle. Eventually, however, it grew too great to bear, and treachery ended her rule. The nation changed, the people moved on, and Anikar was remembered in tales as a sort of tragic heroine – a savior, and victim to her own power. Some people thought she didn’t die though – her body was never found. They think she might come back someday. His grandfather never told him the story again, but Tycho always remembered it, and it stuck in him – what of this story? For years, he forgot it, perhaps faintly recalling it every once in a while, until he got to college. There was a course on the “Legend of Anikar,” and he took it. He began to learn more about it, and the more he learned, the more he wanted to know. He wanted to study it seriously, from a historical perspective, but all his professors considered it nothing but an old legend. He could find nothing he needed in the public libraries. One day, though, he was browsing around when he stumbled upon something else that might help. On the homeworld of Arizona Prime, there was a huge repository of literature and history – The Tyrion Archive. It supposedly contained just about anything a person could want, as far as any written or digital information was concerned. He decided to take a trip there, to further his studies. This is where his story begins, and an ancient prophecy comes to its end.

Arizona Prime – Tyrion Archive

Tycho had been searching all day. This archive was, without a doubt, huge – almost beyond imagining. While only one story actually was visible on the outside, its vaults and stacks went down hundreds and hundreds of feet underground. They had only recently installed a rapid hover transit system by which to browse the towering stacks, and for this at least was Tycho mightily relieved. Yet, even with the cataloging system, it was still hard to find anything about Anikar. Books and essays about her were scattered chronologically and throughout many genres, and were rather rare. What complicated matters was just the eerie quiet in the archive. There were few visitors, and they usually weren’t very socialable to begin with. What really unnerved Tycho, however, was the old man. He was of medium height and build, with a bald head ringed by gray hair, a gray mustache, and a nose with a slight hook on the end, and spectacles perched on them. While it looked like he was browsing about, he seemed to follow in Tycho’s footsteps – Tycho would page through a book, move on, and the old man would, a few minutes later, would appear and page through the same book. After a while he caught the old mans eye, and he just stared right back – calculatingly and shrewdly. Tycho decided that it was time to leave, and he took the platform to the nearest dock and got off. He didn’t see the man anywhere, and took quick strides toward the floor exit, and looked at a map to find the main exit. When he put the map down and turned around, however, there was the old man! Tycho jumped a little, having not expected the old man’s sudden appearance.

“Hello,” said the old man. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around the archive before.”

“It’s my first time,” Tycho replied, trying to mask his nervousness.

“What are you studying?” queried the old man.

“Why are you asking me this?” replied Tycho, ready to throw down the gauntlet. “I mean, you’ve only been following my every footstep. Just what are you on about?”

“To answer your last question first,” said the old man with a shrewd smile, “I make it my business keeping tabs on people who study the Old Histories. It’s of… particular importance to me. In any case, my name: I am Diodotus Vasco, Senior Archivist.”

Tycho still did not trust the old man, Archivist or not. “So why were you following me then?”

“I know who you’re studying, Tycho – you’re studying Anikar. What’s more important is that I can tell you’re looking for history, not ‘legend,’ – this is more serious to you than merely passing a class or finding a good story.”

“What bus… wait, how do you know my name?”

“I know a lot of things. I also happen to be the keeper of a considerable bank of knowledge about Anikar – and if you will trust me to show you, I will.”

“Why me though?”

“Because I chose you. Because you’re one of the few who takes this seriously – like me.”

“Alright – show me. Try anything funny, though, and I’ll be on you like a ton of bricks.” Tycho wasn’t a formidable person, but he had taken some self-defense lessons.

“Follow me then, please,” said the Diodotus. He turned and strode with surprising speed down a nearby hallway, and Tycho had to jog a little to catch up. Then Diodotus came to a dead end. Tycho wondered what he was doing, when he began to study the wall intently. He then placed his hand on it, and a crack appeared, and widened until it became a full doorway. Diodotus gave a little nod with his head, signaling Tycho to go inside. They walked in, and the door closed behind them with a nearly imperceptible click.

“Welcome to my private study, Tycho. Please, have a seat,” he said, pulling out a chair. The study was darker and gloomier than the austere, white marble hallways that the rest of the building was clad in.

“So what do you want then?” asked Tycho.

“To ask you a question. I happen, Mr. Andris, to be part of a group that takes Anikar very seriously. We know things that the person on the street hasn’t even conceptualized yet…”

“Whoa whoa whoa,” interjected Tycho. “What the hell is this, a cult? I knew this was a bad idea…”

Diodotus turned a shade of red and narrowed his eyes. “What are you on about? A cult? Are we a cult simply because we don’t look for converts under every spreading tree, or kill people in the name of the gods, or The God, or no god at all? As is, we’ve been around far longer than any ‘religion’ you know of.”

At this, Tycho started. “What?”

Diodotus ignored Tycho, and continued: “As is, we have men of many faiths in our group anyway. It’s secular by far, and we don’t defy God or practice any ‘perversions.’”

“Then what are you all about then?”

“Don’t be so daft, boy! You should know – but I’ll explain it anyway. It’s about Anikar. Now, the story you probably know – the orcs, the empire, the treachery, the uncertainty of death – it’s all true. It’s incomplete though. Anikar was indeed betrayed by her followers – her own guards and court mages turned on her one night. She slew the guards easily, but the mages, which she had hired expressly because she was afraid of treachery, disabled her. However, one of the mages remained loyal to her. When the rest began to begin an incantation that would imprison Anikar for eternity in a subplane of the universe, he interrupted by setting alight one of the others. With the spell incomplete, Anikar was instead cast forth into the multiverse. In the ensuing battle between the court magi, the entire palace was destroyed.”

“Well, then Anikar is still good as gone, isn’t she?”

“I’m not finished yet,” snapped Diodotus. “After this happened, Tyrion, Anikar’s brother, began to write ‘prophecies,’ if you will, about Anikar’s return. He never told anyone else about it, even his closest friends and relatives, as people still remembered the ‘oppression’ of Anikar’s late rule. He wrote hundreds of scrolls and books about it, rituals and things, to pave the way so that his descendants and followers could trace her way back to the Prime Material someday. He passed this tradition onto his son, who did the same, even unto the ending of the Old World.”

“This is all so strange – what does this have to do with you?”

“Try and suspend your disbelief, at least until I’m finished! When the Old World came to an end, many from House Tyrion survived, and started anew here. The tradition was kept alive, even after the introduction of Earth culture and ways here. It’s evolved, as technology has come and changed things, and I,” said the old man, pointing to himself, “am one of those who keep the tradition – an Acolyte of Anikar.”

Tycho was floored. How could any of this be true? Still, it intrigued him.

“So what do you want me to do?”

“Help fulfill the Prophecy. Nothing more.”

Tycho slapped his hand to his forehead. “Oh, JUST fulfill some ages-old prophecy!”

“Indeed. It’ll be easier than you think.”

“What? How?”

Diodotus leapt up and strode over to a table full of old scrolls. “Because,” he said, “the time for the fulfillment of the prophecy is nigh.” He grabbed a few of them and walked back over to Tycho. Rolling one open, he put his finger on a spot and began to talk excitedly: “see, references are here of many things: living metal – as we encountered in the Lessir Tsurani war – and ringworlds, great-fire-and-metal fish – starships, no doubt – a fellowship of nations – likely a reference to the ESUS – the list goes on. We’ve ran calculations, we’ve done simulations, we’ve even mathematically predicted Anikar’s “trajectory” through the multiverse. The time is nigh, my friend.”

“Well, all that is indeed impressive, but people interpret prophecies as being something that’s happening ‘right now’ all the time.”

Diodotus flushed red with anger again. “Are you saying, then, you’ll have no part in it, then?”

“No, I’m just voicing my concerns about this whole thing.”

Tycho was, however, conflicted inside. While this seemed to push the fringe of insanity to new heights, what if the old man was right? The universe was full of things madder than this – rumors of nations ruled by demons, digital sentiences created by the networking of billions of people, to just name a couple instances. If the old man was right… who knows? Everything could change. Even if this Diodotus was wrong, who knows what could be learned in this expedition?

“Well? What say you?” interjected Diodotus. “Time is already short. I need your decision now.”

“Alright, I’m with you.”

Tag. Tell me when you want the package delivered...

The Expedition

It was a month later. Tycho had been learning from Diodotus about what the old man liked to call “the true history,” what had been forgotten over the long years. Indeed, the “legends,” were the truth – the stories about Anikar and her exploits, the Republic built on the ruins of Anikar’s Empire, the “New” Empire built on the ruins of the Republic, and the destruction of the Old World by The Everlasting Darkness. While Tycho had been banking on the idea that Anikar had been a legendary leader early in the History of the homeworld, this was far beyond his expectations. Meanwhile, Diodotus said that all of House Tyrion had been moving in secret for years to prepare for the “homecoming” of Anikar – appropriating resources, equipment, weapons and armor for the expedition, and working on something else – of which Diodotus would only give hints and his hope that “the Lady” would be pleased. Of all Diodotus’s eccentricities, his choice of wording for this affair was the oddest. He wrapped it in quasi-religious phrasings like a king wrapped himself in finery – “heretics,” “the prophets,” though Diodotus assured him they were merely colloquialisms of his used to scare off the weak-minded. Sometimes, though, Tycho wasn’t so sure. One day, however, as Tycho was in the study, reviewing some history and bits and pieces of the “Old Language,” Diodotus ran in, and began shuffling through the books papers and scrolls.

“Something amiss?” asked Tycho.

Diodotus started and whirled about. “Oh, it’s you. The Council was looking at the prophecies again, and we decided we should set out sooner than our earlier projections.”

“How much sooner?”

“I hope you’re packed.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“Things aren’t looking good abroad right now. Ever since the Lockdown* began tensions have been running high. Of course, we’ll be able to get out because we know people, but if we don’t get moving soon the Army will want its equipment back.”

“Wait… Army… equipment? You failed to mention that.”

“Indeed.” Diodotus turned and pulled a star chart out of the mess of scrolls and papers, and laid it on the table in front of Tycho.

“Anikar’s return was to be ‘through the greatest ring.’ By that, I believe they mean a ringworld. We know of only one nation with a ringworld – Jordaxia. We’ve found where it is.” He pointed to the star map. “We are here, in the Perseus Arm,” and then shifted his finger over. “The ring… is here.”

“So why do you need army equipment?”

“When I say Jordaxian ringworld, I mean that in the past tense. The Jordaxians built it, but it was abandoned decades ago for reasons unknown.”

“Reasons unknown?”

“We do know there was a lot of fighting before they left it. That’s why we’re bringing the hardware – there could be leftovers haunting the place still. Thus, we need to get going, because the Army might come hunting for it back soon.”

“And we have to leave now?”

“Today, preferably, not right now.”

Tycho rolled his eyes. “Gee, thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” replied Diodotus, cracking a wry smile.

Fortress World Andalus

Before the journey truly began, the group Diodotus assembled was to stop off at the fortress world of Andalus. Though, technically, it was one of the moons of the gas giant Mekoa, it was hardened far more than any other Arizonan world. It was here that House Tyrion had been stockpiling weapons and armors. As for personnel, Diodotus had surely assembled a ragtag collection. Freelancer mech pilots, retired military personell, and others from “The Acolytes,” the group dedicated to the fulfillment of the Prophecy and the return of Anikar, composed the expedition’s team – Tycho included. The ships Diodotus had chosen were on loan – a few drop bricks, but he had acquired an aging Bulwark II class vessel as well, the Glorious Moderator. Long since retired from service, the Moderator had been collecting dust in a scrapyard off Äußer-Kern, and he had gotten it at a great discount. This was good, as Diodotus had hinted that House Tyrion had come nigh to emptying its coffers, and those of its friends, on this whole business. Tycho was currently sitting in one of the officers’ mess lounges, enjoying what might be his last good hot meal, when Diodotus joined him.

“You know, I think this ship might have fought at Groombridge. I was looking up its history and I found it was at least put on alert to deploy when the conflict began. If these walls could talk…” Diodotus mused absentmindedly. His countenance then became serious. “Our next stop is the Chyrsham system.”

Tycho choked on his chicken. “The Chyrsham system?” he coughed. “Why there?” Evil tales had always surrounded that place. Tycho didn’t consider himself superstitious, but he had heard many tales of the place. Having twin suns didn’t make it any brighter than anywhere else; it was a dark and foreboding place. An Arizonan colony which had started there disappeared without a trace years ago, and it was a haunt of pirates, outlaws, and men with nothing to lose.

“Yes, that Chyrsham system. The ‘dark side focus,’ the ‘haunted worlds,’ whatever. All the more reason to put our operations there – nobody comes there, and for the right price the pirates leave you alone.”

“Aye, pirates mabee, but whet about the ‘ellbeasts that call ‘et ‘ome?” interjected “Rogue,” one of the mechmercs. “Don’ tell me yae nevar ‘eard of the Chyrsham foive incident? ‘Ole colony woiped ‘ut, bloody navy glassd’ the place to smithereens,” he growled.

“My good man,” reassured Diodotus. “It’s only a check point stop to pick something up.”

“Whet be et then?” asked Rogue. “Et baetter be worth the pickin,’ cause I won’t be ‘anging round the joint longaer than I ‘ave too,” he said, crossing himself and spitting.

Diodotus wrinkled his nose a bit, and said “Don’t you worry. If it takes five minutes, we’ll have been dragging our feet for the matter. That, and the pirates or whatever else is there would think twice before attacking a Bulwark. We’re in good hands.”

“Aye, but I’ll be countin’ evary secon’ til we leave that pit.”

The com crackled to life, and the captain’s voice floated through the mess:

“Attention: we will be making the jump to Chyrsham soon. Diodotus, we’re going to need you up here to clear us. Please get to the bridge now.”

“Duty calls,” said Diodotus. He picked up his tray, put it away and strode out.

“Crazy aold man,” grunted Rogue. “Pays well enuf, but he moight aft to pay better for this ‘ere travestae. What’re YE in this faer?” he said, locking his scowling gaze on Tycho.

“Me? A number of reasons – curiosity, mainly.”

“Hah! Et killed the cat, ye know. I’m booking et when this is said and dun – old men and ancient miracles do leave meh unsettled, that they do.”

“Well, have a good day then, Rogue.”

“Aye, twill be bettaer when this business en Chyrsham be done.”

Tycho liked Rogue well enough; he was crusty, like most mercenaries, but he was a site more affable then some of the others. Argus, for one, was quite unfriendly. He had a dire face that betrayed nothing more than a cold efficiency – for killing, mainly. Argus kept to himself, but already a scuffle had broken out and a man had been sent to the infirmary for crossing the hulking pilot. He was, however, reputable among his peers, and Diodotus had said that he needed skill more than personality. Now, however Tycho decided he would get some sleep while he still could – it might be a while until he could get another wink.

When Tycho had finished his rest, he decided he would pay Diodotus another visit. There was, still, one last burning question that he wanted to ask the old man, but asking earlier would probably have put him out of Diodotus’s good graces. He knocked on Diodotus’s door and the old man called “come in,” from the inside, prompting the doors to open. The old man was pouring over some ancient text, as usual. He looked up to see who it was, and then began reading again.

“Hello Tycho! What are you doing walking about at this hour? I’d be getting some more rest if I were you,” he said, his nose in the parchment yet.

“Yeah, well, I’ve just got this question, though, that’s been bugging me for a while – about this whole expedition.”

Diodotus looked up with his eyes narrowed again – “What’s your question?”

“Well, we’ve both read the texts – and know them well – and they always say that Anikar was ‘corrupted by power’ and such. Why would we want to bring someone like that back, if that’s the case? I mean, outside of ‘prophecies’ and ‘destiny’ – if we had a choice, why would we – why should we – do it?” Tycho braced, expecting the old man to get angry again. However, Diodotus just frowned, and then cracked his wry smile again.

“That, Tycho, is a perfectly legitimate question. Anyway, now, there is an example of a roughly similar event that happened in Terran history – how studied up on their history are you anyway, my boy?”

“Fairly well – which story?”

Diodotus nodded and continued: “There was a man, once, named Julius Caesar – a great general and leader in the late Roman Republic. He had built up the power of Rome greatly – he conquered many lands, and defeated great numbers of enemies abroad. Now, his power at home was growing – and whenever someone gains power, now, it’s a good bet someone else is losing it. In this case, the Roman Senate was losing power to him. They really didn’t like that. Do you know what happened next?”

“Caesar was assassinated – by his own friends, even, right?”

“Murdered, yes – by his best friends. Of course the Senate said they planned it ‘for the good of the Republic’ – painted all sorts of nice stories about it – yet people today still know there was more at work than their altruism. Now, let me construct for you a scenario: let’s say that somewhere in the Empire, our Empire, there is a group of extremists - communists, xenophobes, temporal crusaders, hyper-religious folk, whatever – and they are of the persuasion that Anithraldur is ruining the whole nation and leading us down a dark path or something. They want him out. The opportunity to get rid of him comes up, and they take it, and eliminate him. What is the first thing they’re going to do?” Not waiting for Tycho’s response, Diodotus continued: “Commemorate the ‘Glorious Revolution,’ the uprising of the masses against Anithraldur’s tyrannical rule, that sort of thing. They’re going to blow it out of proportion. In the long term, they’ll also try to re-write history – diminish his successes, and make his failures and faults loom larger than ever. Now, let’s say someone mounts a surprise attack sometime after, and the Empire is shattered. Very few accounts of history will probably survive, if anyone survives, except the propaganda which was being circulated. Now, do you see what I’m getting at?”

“I think,” said Tycho. “Basically, that the few texts that remain might be skewed?”

“Exactly,” said Diodotus. “We have no certain way of knowing for sure what Anikar was like or what she was doing when she was deposed. She might have had a taste for power, but every leader does to an extent, and it only takes a historian patronized by the current ruling power to make history lean one way or another in his patron’s favor. Considering that the Old World was completely obliterated, and the history of it survived only by oral traditions scribed a century or so after Arizona Prime was settled, we’re lucky we even know about Anikar – besides what WE know.”

“I see. Well, for our sake, I hope you’re right, Diodotus.”

Diodotus’s face seemed to darken slightly. “As do I, Tycho.”

.:ooc:.
*Arizonan borders have been locked down due to dangerous international circumstances.

Chyrsham System

The small convoy thudded back into real space right outside the rim of the system. Tycho looked out the windows of his quarters into it – so this, this was the “Dark System,” a place where, in spite of the twin suns, it seemed the black of space dominated. Arizona Nova of course claimed control of the system, but their actual presence was small to nonexistent – only a border patrols station on the outmost world. Though, if Vasco’s own indications are correct, than the Empire had more of a presence here than everyone knew. Speaking of which – the door to his room let forth a beep, indicating someone was at it. “Come in.”

Diodotus walked in and announced, “we should be at Five soon – and be picking up our ‘hardware’ and a couple ‘surprise’ passengers.”

Tycho put a hand on his forehead. “OK, you just said WAY more than I’m probably prepared to hear for the next WEEK in one sentence. Let’s back up. Five? You mean Chyrsham Five?”

“Good to see there is some sharpness about you; I’m rather glad that you asked. Yes, Chyrsham Five.”

“God… let me sit down before the NEXT one, just in case my heart fails.”

Diodotus smirked. “C’mon, you don’t believe those old ghost stories, do you? Killer aliens wiping out the entire colony – just old wives’ tales used to scare children to sleep! Anyway, we’re picking up some stuff and some extra passengers and then heading straight to the Halo.”

“What are we picking up?”

Diodotus’s face became quite serious, and he said, “A little something for Anikar; suffice to say it’s all very powerful. As for the passengers – they were helping us make said devices, and they showed interest in coming along with us and helping out – which I believe we’ll need.”

Tycho pondered it for a moment – just what all is going on that the old man had “failed” to mention? Only for a moment though – the ship suddenly lurched, though only slightly, which was immediately followed up by a massive “BOOM” noise – like that of a MAC cannon firing…

“What the blazes?” yelled Diodotus, and he ran off toward the bridge. Tycho immediately ran after him, as the ship rocked again – they were being fired upon.

On the bridge, Tycho looked out at the viewscreen and saw a number of smaller, motley vessels – pirates. Diodotus was fuming at the officers on deck – “Why are they firing at us? I thought we paid these scum off!”

The captain, now slightly ill-humored, said, “Well, we did – but these aren’t ‘our’ pirates now…" He gestured to the view screen and magnified an area of the enemy hull with a strange marking on it. “I have no idea who these clowns are. Suffice to say, they’re all about to die…” Suddenly a low roar emanated from the bowels of the ship, and right out from under them, a brilliant white streak of metal pierced the black void - it was the main MAC cannon – and it sped toward the largest enemy vessel. With no time to evade, the ship was caught by it, and the shell smashed right through the outer hull of the ship, and would have continued on its course right through had it not detonated the numerous bombs inside itself. With a brilliant flash of colors from all over the spectrum, the pirate flagship was annihilated along with a few others; the remainder turned and fled. Diodotus looked on the captain reprovingly.

“Why did you use one of the big shells? We have turbolasers, and those aren’t limited by ammunition.”

The captain narrowed his eyes. “I wanted to send a message: namely, back the hell off. Hopefully any more of these punks will think twice before attacking us again.”

Diodotus fumed. “Or just send stronger ships.” He turned around and before leaving, said to Tycho, “If you need me, I’ll be in my quarters.”

High Orbit, Chyrsham 5

Tycho was part of the small group of curious people collected outside the main docking bay where the Ald Rhun vessel, Excruciator, was to be landing. Though Diodotus had tried to be secretive about who and what was coming on board, nonetheless it only encouraged the onlookers to show up. Tycho noticed standing amongst the crowd was Argus again, lurking at the back edge of the group, his cold, narrow grey eyes staring at the bay door. Tycho wondered why he would care who came aboard. But yes, he heard the noises beyond the door of a ship docking – the clanging as the boarding bridges extended, and the hum as the atmosphere-holding shields came online. Yes, it was definitely here now. There was further dull clanging as the “mouth” of the docking bridge locked on to the sides of the docking vessel and latched on. Then all was silent, but a moment later heavy footsteps came down the corridor. The door opened, and Diodotus came in, leading this huge creature – it was easily about twelve feet in height, and all covered in scales with a lizard’s head, with a retinue of like creatures about him. After him came a massive armor suit – smaller than the first, but even more fearful looking, as it had a great skull-mask where it’s head was, and the floor groaned as it walked. Argus’s face contorted into a sort of derisive half-sneer when he saw the lizard-man walk through. Diodotus looked at the assembled throng with annoyance and said,

“I try to get them on board with as little fuss as possible and look what happens! Shoo, get back to your quarters while I get our guests settled!”

He led them past the crowd, which began to disperse, its curiosity sated.

The skull-faced man looked about, scanning the room for its current employer. Sighting him, the man turned, and approached him.

"Dioditus. I am the QUETZAL Avatar assigned to your entourage. My designation is Marduk, and I am to operate as your bodyguard until the conclusion of this operation."

OOC: took ya long enough...
IC: The "lizard-man" stepped behind Marduk, addressing Dioditus.
"My Brothers and I will tour our quarters now. We will also be requiring the use of your largest spare cargo bay, to test the capabilities of our new... equiptment. We would appreciate it if you would join us there to discuss our current venture."

As they walked along the corridors of the Bulwark class vessel, Diodotus continued:

"For you, Heinrich, we have fixed up one of our cargo bays to rival state quarters," he said smugly. "As for Marduk, he has his pick of whatever room he wants... considering he is the avatar of an archsentient, after all."

Diodotus handed them some room key cards, and said, "As for the cargo bay, the largest is currently filled up with equipment for the expedition, but there is another of similar size on the other side of that deck which is not so full. If they are too small to test things out, you could always go 'outside' - we did have full atmosphere systems installed in those suits, did we not? Make sure to not detonate any of the heavy ordnance inside - we're well armored to without, but less so from within. Well, I'm off."

Diodotus turned away and strode back towards the bridge.

The two suits stood facing each other, seperated by a few meters of hard vacuum. One towered over the other, a hulking monstrosity with a dragons head. It stood a full four meters tall, the incredibly dense armor plating concealing the bulk of the Rhunate prince. The other suit was considerably smaller, but still projected an aura of palpable menace. Its skull-like visage stared blankly towards its Rhunate counterpart. Finally, it spoke.

"The rules are simple, Heinrich. No ranged weapons, nothing capable of penetrating the ships hull. You will restrain both the suit's systems and your leech in this exercise. This will also prevent damage to our suits. The excercise will end one minute after it is begun. There are no other rules. Begin."

With that one word, the smaller Marduk leapt towards his towering counterpart, lashing out with a scything kick, sweeping the legs out from under Heinrich. Somersaulting backwards, the huge beast grinned from inside his armored suit. At least this fight would be interesting....

Striking back, Heinrich lunged forward, attempting to crush the smaller Marduk against the hull. Seeing the attack coming, Marduk rolled forward, between the hulking Rhun's legs. However, he failed to see the tail snake out, and snare his left leg. Lifting Marduk up into the air, Heinrich slammed him down against the hull, leaving a mansized dent in the military grade armor. Lifting him up again, Heinrich tossed Marduk a good thirty meters across the hull. Shifting direction in mid-flight, Marduk arced back, slamming into his opponent, sending him sprawling. Lunging forward, Marduk extended a blade from his fore arm, leveling at his opponents throat. Plasma dripped downward from the spike, sizzling against Heinrich's chest, not even scratching the plating of the armor.

"The minute is not yet up, my Prince, but I believe this exercise is over."

Diodotus watched the two suits sparring on a viewscreen, occasionally making comments to himself under his breath. When they finished, he nodded approvingly. The real action will begin when they start seriously fighting, he thought, though even now they might not even realize the full potential of these suits. When the two were safely back inside, he gave the all-clear signal to the captain, who took his seat, and prepared to engage the hyperdrive. They broke orbit around Chyrsham 5 and soon enough were safely out of the system. A technician nearby finished inputting the coordinates to the computer, and he gave an all-clear sign when it was done. The captain flipped a switch, and with a roar the engines engaged, and the ship gave a lurch as it sped into hyperspace.

Tycho was in his personal quarters doing a little reading – he couldn’t sleep at all, of course – and listening to the rhythmic pounding of the ship’s engines as it cut it’s way through hyperspace. He was just about finished with his book when the engines began to wind down. Setting the book down on his coffee table, he went over to a view screen and switched it to external view. The Halo appeared on the screen – a great ring, seemingly suspended in nothingness. It was orbiting a nearby planet, which had a dark red color to it. As the ship neared, details began to appear on the ring – Tycho could discern different zones – mountain ranges, forests, grassland – but he could also see what resembled battle scars. Large areas were burnt and at certain points he could tell that some parts of the ring had been blown away to scaffolding. He shivered, wondering just what was left down there after the Jordaxians left; what horrors could there have been - or were still there - if they had completely abandoned the ring? There was a long beep over the ship’s intercom, and the captain’s voice announced: “All boarding personell please report to Bay 5 for extraction to the ring-surface.” Tycho immediately got up and headed for the docking bay.

The first of the Cinder Block drop ships descended toward the surface of the ring world, leaving brilliant streaks of color as they descended through the Halo’s sky. As they slowed to land and extended their landing gear, marines – not official members of the AMC, but probably more mercs – handed out arms to everyone. Diodotus was taking no chances here – he said he wanted no man to be without some sort of armament for this. What Diodotus knew, but hadn’t told the rest of the crew, was that forward scouting reports had been grim. One of the groups hadn’t even come back, and the ones that did had reported strange automated sentinels all over the ring, attacking anything that moved. However, they were mercenary scouts, armed with decommissioned Arizonan rifles; this group was much more finely equipped. There were even a few of the SIR-1 Infantry Rifles. One of the bay doors on the first drop brick slid open to reveal one of the Timber Wolf battlemechs – the height of Arizonan engineering. There was a low, barely audible hum as the machine powered up, and it took its first ponderous step out of the vessel as the pilot warmed up to the controls. Another mech followed, as well as some armored vehicles, which contained Diodotus, Tycho, and the other non-combatants. One of the Cougar light mechs, outfitted with an advanced sensor suite, began scanning the area for hostiles – none immediately visible on the scope. A contingent of marines and mechs stayed behind at the base camp while the rest began their journey forward into the wilds of the Jordaxian ring – they were near the target complex, but not very so – it was purportedly an active volcano with many tunnels leading to the gate room. Diodotus exited one of the vehicles and began making frantic directions to the mechmercs – mainly, for the heavier mechs to stay behind and guard the base, and the lighter ones to go forward. When he got back in, Tycho asked,

“What was that all about?”

“Well, we studied the composition of the ring,” replied Diodotus. “Anything that’s really heavy that would be walking around on it is at risk of falling through the ‘floor,’ which suffice to say would not be good.”

“So where are we headed?”

Diodotus pulled out a tablet from a satchel and switched it on, and an image came onto it of a volcano. “Here,” he said. “The ‘Mount Doom’ facility. The gate, which is our target, should be at the core of it.”

“At the core of the volcano? Isn’t that sort of occupied by – you know – magma and molten rock?”

“Er, below the core. Suffice to say, there will be little lava where we’re headed,” Diodotus hastily replied.

“I detect some hesitation in your voice,” said Tycho. “If not lava, then what?”

Diodotus leaned forward and whispered to Tycho, “I trust you enough to tell you this – don’t go screaming it to the rest of the crew, alright? There is still something here – a lot of somethings – that were left over from when Jordaxia was still on this ring. There was some sort of fight, a rampant AI or something, which left the ring, as you could probably see from orbit, in bad shape, and also left a bunch of… things. We should be safe, as the Otagian and the Rhunate have special armor suits we designed that are a sight near unstoppable, but I’m still worried.”

He leaned back with a pensive look on his face as the transport continued to rumble toward its target - Mount Doom.

The network of tunnels beneath the orbitals desolate tunnels resembled a mechanical bee hive. Insectoid shapes scuttled beneath the surface, heading in a general direction: up. A dull drone of machinery was the sole noise. Above, the convoy of organics passed along unawares. Moments later, the attack was beginning. Optical sensors tasted natural light for the first time in years. Clawed hands broke the brittle surface all around the organics. Huge monstrosities, looking like spiders, praying mantis, even large, vertical caterpillers, rising 30 feet in the air once they had sprang from the surface. As soon as they had appeared, metallic hail flew through the air. Hundreds of guns held by nearly a hundred sentinels opened fire in any general direction. The sentinels, however, were silent, letting their firearms do the talking.

The massive barrage caught the Arizonans by suprise. Several mercs went down, riddled with holes from the onslaught. The mechs immediately began to exchange fire with the Sentinels, though it was apparent that they were outgunned. The Sentinels began to focus their fire on the mechs, hoping to take down the largest pockets of resistance first.

Just the way the two armored guests liked it.

"Marduk, how many of those things are there?"

"Slightly less than a century, my Prince."

"Only a hundred? I'm insulted!"

"Then let us show them how to conduct a proper welcoming."

Like a pair of angry hornets, the pair of suits flitted in the air, largely unnoticed by the attackers. That is, until they began to die.

The first Sentinel to go down was hit from behind, an armored fist passing through its skull. The metal beast's remains were tossed forward, smashing a smaller sentinel beneath its bulk. Another pair of sentinels turned to face this new threat, and were promptly wiped out by a gravitic maelstrom. A series of rockets streaked from the smaller suit, Gilium warheads annihilating sentinels with every blast. The insectile attackers poured fire onto the pair, thousands of bullets impacting on the skins of the suits to no effect, either stopped outright by the suits' inertial barriers, destroying themselves against the shields, or flattening themselves harmlessly against the suits' singularity forged skin.

To the weary Arizonans, the pair seemed to be demigods, their plasma coated skins blazing like novas, smashing sentinels left and right. A mantoid sentinel was thrown through the air, impaling itself on a rocky spire. It twitched wildly, sending more shots towards Marduk, only to be silenced by a barrage from the Arizonans.

Finally, it was over. The last of the marauders had been destroyed, its arachnoid form crushed beneath the hundred ton weight of an armored heel. Freshly christened in the oily fluids of their vanquished attackers, the pair marched triumphantly towards the transport vehicle, to the cheers of the Arizonans. Heinrich turned towards his comrade, and grinned.

"This, my friend is what it is like to be a god! And with this suit, even the gods would tremble before us!"

Diodotus had clambered over to a window when the fighting began, and at first had watched in horror as the onslaught of the sentinels began. His expression turned to relief, then amazement, as he watched the Otagian and Rhunate combatting the sentinels. It was a look that the rest of the squad wore as well as the two seemingly invulnerable suits effortlessly smashed through the sentinels, and soon enough dozens of them were piled up in a heap at their feet. When the battle ended, Diodotus turned back and got back in his seat. He looked at Tycho, then said,

"There it is again."

"What?" replied Tycho.

"Another part of the Prophecy. 'And the legions of Hell will come and throw themselves against the Acolytes, but they will be protected by the power of the gods; demigods who will cut wide swaths and laugh in the face of devils.' Amazing. This has to be it, Tycho, I just know it."

The convoy continued to rumble towards the great mountain, and for the time being it appeared that the inhabitants had exhausted their forces in the attack or were waiting for them elsewhere.

The sentinels had been overcome. What was left of their collective mind since the severance of fate would be enraged, if it had the capacity. As it was, it merely reformed - literally. Sentinels pooled in a cavern near the mt doom facility, piling high, on top of each other, merging with each other, becoming one. a beast with no obvious shape or form, a mass of metal, of weapons and death. The new beast began itself, to move upwards, the masses of mantoid, arachnid and caterpiller shapes oozing through the soil.

The cavern below it began to collapse, but its upward course was irreversible. it broke the soil, which fell through the hole it made, and before it was mount doom. it was on the opposite side of the mountain than the organic convoy, so it began to creep along the mountains with an impossible speed.... squirming slowly, yet really moving with great speed. It made the lower portion of the mountain look as if it had been reconstructed of metal as it glinted off of the harsh-sunset, a diagonal shadow slicing the orbital in two. A short time later, it was in position to intercept the convoy.

The convoy was almost to the mountain - it loomed ominously up before them. Steam vents spewed hot, sulfuric vapors, and the temperature of everything in the convoy except the controlled climate vehicles - the suits and the battlemechs - were getting baked. They soon came to the base, and before them loomed a vertical wall of rock, with a canyon seemingly cut into it, forming a path that led to the mountain. Diodotus debated for a few minutes with the others in the convoy about their next course of action - either daring the canyon path or daring to try to climb the cliff face, but the canyon won out - speed was of the essence. Besides, assured Diodotus, the Rhunate and the Otagian had them covered. So their trek began through the canyon. It was quiet, aside from the rumble of the mountain and the jet of the steam vents. What conversation there was, was done quickly, and quietly. Soon enough, however, they neared the base. At first, nobody noticed anything. Then, someone gave a shout of surprise - they hadn't noticed anything because the thing they should have noticed, covered nearly an entire face of the mountain. The mercs paled and set up a defensive position with the suits and mechs, while the vehicles containing Diodotus and his group fell back behind them, awaiting the imminent combat.

Heinrich stared up at the monstrous sentinel. By the Lords of Chaos... That thing is huge!

Then it'll take longer to kill. Why haven't we started yet?

Heinrich glanced over at Marduk and grinned. An excellent question.

The pair of armored demigods moved forward, skittering stealthily through the rocks. Then, when they were close to the behemoth, a roiling wave of plasma rocketed towards the monstrosity, smashing into its side. Angrily, the great beast turned, pointing thousands of weapons towards the location of its attackers, only to find that they had already departed. Again, a plasma wave lashed into the beast's side, and again, it turned to find that its tormenters had vanished. This time, it focused its sensors on the area, and found that there was a fairly large hole, freshly bored into the ground. Squirming the thing began to force its amorphous bulk below ground, to better hunt its prey.

________________________

"Hey, Marduk?"

"Yes, my prince?"

"I think the game is up..."

Turning, Marduk saw the vast bulk of the behemoth squirming its way down the tunnel. Seeing them, the barrels on its miniguns began to spin.

"Oh shit..."

Diving to the side, Marduk barely avoided a hail of shells. Slamming into the tunnel wall, he activated his plasma sheath, burrowing an alcove for him to hide in. Glancing over, he saw that Heinrich had done the same. Just as he had squeezed his entire body into the niche, his sensors picked up a massive blast of energy searing through the tunnel.

"Marduk, what in the name of Chaos was that?!"
"Capital Scale Microwave Laser, my prince. It appears that the beast is slightly more heavily armed than we believed."
"Great. All that means is that we'll need to kill it quicker."
"Affirmative, my prince. Distract it while I get some heavier firepower. On three... One, two... THREE!"

On the signal, the two activated their plasma sheathes and gravitic thrusters, falling straight up through the cieling, blasting out of the surface in a hail of debris. Falling towards the beast, Heinrich let loose with a hail of micro-singularities, the voracious little monsters swallowing portions of the Sentinel, then exploding violently when the energy sustaining them was shut off.

Dropping down to avoid another maser blast, Heinrich spotted Marduk running towards the beast, a pair of huge cannons slung over his shoulders. Quickly, Heinrich made sure his sonic shielding was online. Just as he activated it, a series of sonic booms erupted as the Avatar's twin boomguns began firing. Accelerating 60mm mass-reactive slugs at Mach 5, they left gaping holes in the side of the beast. Spinning, Heinrich dove towards the creature, blasting with more micro-singularities. Impacting the thing directly, he activated his plasma sheath, and burrowed toward the things core.

Meanwhile, Marduk kept firing. He could see blasts of fire where his rounds were impacting, and began to see the thing start to glow oddly. Suddenly, the thing lurched, lighting up like a firefly and swelling grotesquely. Again, it glowed, and it's skin pulsed. One final time, and it exploded, showering the area with burning bits of sentinel. Marduk began to pick off the few survivors as he walked towards the glowing form of Heinrich, who was covered in molten metal.

"That plasma pulse comes in handy. A bit unorthidox, my prince, but it seems to have worked."

"Hey, I didn't see you think of anything better. Your peashooters there weren't putting the thing down very quickly, so I had to do something."

"An excellent point. I believe we should inform our friends of our victory?"

"They already know."

Heinrich pointed towards the caravan, which was again moving towards the mountain.

Once again, Diodotus and the men in the truck watched apprehensively as the two suits went into combat. Cold sweat beaded everyone's brows as they watched the fight unfold. Meanwhile, the mercenaries were trying their best to help, but against the enormous creature, their weapons had little affect. Even the two Mechs, loaded out as they were, were useless. It was all up to the two suits. Diodotus watched them burrow underground, and for a stunned second feared the monstrous sentinel might ignore them and tear apart the rest of the convoy, but it pursued them. There were rumbles underground, and he cursed aloud - if they made enough of a disturbance they might bring the whole mountain down! The ground held, however, and soon the two suits burst to the surface again, along with the monster. Their weapons appeared to be having little affect, until one of them burrowed into the creature. This appeared to be the killing stroke, as it soon fell dead and once again the two emerged victorious. Diodotus looked toward the mountain - it sloped gradually up in front of them, dark red and menacing. Before them lay a great concrete paddock, and the main doors.

"This is where we get out, gentlemen," said Diodotus to the rest of the cab. A door opened in the back and everyone piled out and began to walk toward the paddock.

Soon the group reached the great doors. Tycho looked up at the Rhunate - his armor was now burnt in spots, but looked solid and imposing nonetheless. While he was grateful they had been there, he still couldn't help feeling a little ill at ease around them. The doors swung open to reveal a huge lobby. There was a desk and a reception area that looked like it would have been more in place in a factory - a nice factory, not a dirty or grungy one, however - and to these Diodotus and a couple men made a beeline.

Diodotus motioned for the two specialists to follow him. They came over to the computer terminal at the desk. The two men were specialists when it came to handling computers, and soon enough they had a map of the complex. Diodotus signaled to the rest of the group to follow them.

"First, we have to go to this elevator," he said, motioning to a shaft on the map. "It goes down one 'floor,' and then there is another elevator down on the other side of that floor. We take that one down and take one more elevator which is stationed on the opposite side of that floor."

"Makes you wonder why they didn't just make one shaft," commented one of the mercs.

"Security reasons, most likely," said Diodotus. "Lets get going."

The group piled into the elevator, which was spacious - express elevator sized - though with the two suits, it was still a little cramped for the group. The door shut and the elevator began moving down at a steady rate.

"Hmmm..." said Diodotus. "I think we might be fine for now. The lobby looked pretty much untouched, so hopefully we won't run into any more sentinels as we move into the complex."

There wasn't much conversation as the elevator continued to move down the shaft. After a few minutes, it stopped. The doors slid open, to reveal a grisly scene: the corridor, stretching away from them toward another set of elevator doors, was strewn with mostly decayed bodies. Though well lit, the lights occasionally flickered off and then on again. There were blood stains, which clashed with the clean white of the walls, all over the place, and bits of broken glass, and the pungent odor of death and decay hung in the air. Off to the sides were great glass windows, and in the rooms beyond, which were still lit, was what looked to be at one time labs of some sort. Strange equipment and microscopes dotted the rooms, though corpses were strewn about in there as well.

Diodotus stared at the scene before him a moment, then gulped and said, "I stand corrected."

The group nervously exited the elevator and went into the corridor. One of the mercs went over to one of the bodies and examined it.

"I see bullet wounds here..." he said. "It looks like this one was jerked around and thrown through that window," he said, motioning to a nearby window pane, which had a roughly man-sized hole in it, with jagged cracks radiating out from it.

The group continued to move forward, but soon Diodotus held up his hand and motioned for them to stop.

"Listen!" he hissed. "Do you hear that?"

There was a faint scrabbling noise, above yet far away from them. They waited apprehensively for what would happen next...

The scrabbling grew louder and louder as the things approached. Soon it was evident that the enemy was coming from above...

"At the ceiling! Train them on the ceiling!" yelled one of the merc commanders.

Everyone pointed their rifles up at the ceiling as the noise built to a dull roar.

There must be hundreds of them, thought Tycho.

Suddenly, the tiles right above them smashed and down leaped something far more hideous even than the sentinels they had met outside. It was of a shiny black color, but it had no eyes and a long, rounded and curved head. Its body was a twisted thing, and it sported terrible claws and fangs which dripped and evil-looking saliva. Immediately the group opened fire at it, and it launched itself into one of the nearby mercs.

"Energy weapons!" yelled the Otagian. "Kinetics don't even hurt it!"

More of the sentinels were dropping out of the ceiling by now, and now the group was backing toward the elevator as they tried to fend off the fiends now raining upon them. Meanwhile Heinrich and Marduk, however, held their ground as more and more of the things dropped down about them. Soon, the creatures began to focus their attack on them instead of the rest of the group.

Plasma sheaths blazing, the two armored titans began a deadly melee with the soulless creatures. Even touching the two of them damaged the sentinels, but the sentinels felt no pain or cared about self-preservation, and they smashed themselves against them in a desperate effort to destroy the two suits. Nonetheless the two lashed with devastating punches at the sentinels, destroying them by the dozen.

Meanwhile, the rest of the group was cornered as the other sentinels not busy with the other two attacked them. As they ran towards the group they were cut down by barrages of plasma from the SIR-1 rifles, and if they closed they would be cut down with a plasma-sheathed sword. The battle went on like this for a few minutes until the last of the sentinels was finally cut down by Marduk - who crushed its skull with his foot.

The group came back together again. A bunch of the mercs had been wounded and at least a couple were dead.

"Leave them for now," Diodotus said. "We'll pick them up on the return trip."

"If we return," said one of the mercs. "I think the price for this little expedition just went up. This is insanity!" he said emphatically, motioning toward the dead mercs and the corpse-riddled old laboratories. "We're all going to die here... except maybe those two," he said derisively, pointing at the two suits.

Diodotus frowned at the merc. Then, however, a thought struck him.

"You're right. If we do all go down to the next floor right now, we probably will die. Marduk, Heinrich - are you up to scouting that floor out for us first while we hold the fort up here?"

"We will do as you have ordered, Archivist," replied Marduk.

Diodotus blinked, wondering for a moment why he had been called archivist, then he remembered; "Oh right. But you could have just said sir..."

"As you wish, sir," complied Marduk. He and Heinrich turned and marched down the corridor towards the next elevator.

"I'll never understand the digital sentient," sighed Diodotus.

Marduk and Heinrich crossed the distance between the group and the next set of elevators with surprising speed, and in no time at all we heading down to the next level. It would be ten minutes before the elevator even got to the next level, and while the two suits just stood in stony silence preparing for the next battle, the rest of the group maintained a silent vigil upstairs, and tended to the wounded. Eventually, the elevator hit the bottom of the shaft.

"This is it," muttered Marduk. The doors opened up. This floor was in much the same condition as the last - white, with blood spatters and corpses all over. This time, however, Marduk and Heinrich were not concerning themselves with the surroundings, but with the sounds. Soon the scrabbling began again, and the two began to glow as their sheaths activated and they primed their weapons. The sentinels burst forth from the ceiling, shrieking horribly, and began their attack. Now, however, instead of merely trying to rush the two, they would try to evade their blows, and make quick sneak attacks on their back or weak spots, or try to trip them up.

Marduk cursed as he lunged at one of the sentinels and it jumped out of his reach. He leveled the microburster on the creature and prepared to annihalate it that way, but a sentinel leapt onto his back. Even as it was being consumed by the plasma field, it drew back its twisted arm and using a long wicked claw, slashed at Marduk's neck. The suit paused, and the skull head toppled off. Heinrich turned and gasped in horror, and the sentinels cacophony of shrieking rose to a crescendo as the sentinels anticipated a victory over the Otagian. However, the now headless Marduk suddenly twisted its arm about and grabbed the sentinel, and he crushed his head between his hands and threw it with all his might at a couple others. Losing his head made him... angry. He rejoined the battle furiously, cutting down sentinels savagely. The sentinels drew back slightly - experience told them that the lose of one's head usually induced death, but here the armored titan was, hacking away headless. Their numbers dwindled, but to the last the sentinels fought. Finally Heinrich caught the last one, and he lifted it on high and then smashed it into the ground.

"Finally," grunted Heinrich. Marduk said nothing - but of course, he wasn't really in a state to talk. They scanned the area to make sure that no more sentinels lurked anywhere in the area. Finding none, they turned back toward the elevator.

Diodotus was pacing about nervously. "They've been gone quite a while. I hope nothing has happened." Then the elevator doors on the far side opened up, and out came Marduk and Heinrich.

"Ah there they ar... good God!" yelled Diodotus. "What happened to Marduk?"

Heinrich looked at him, and though his armor didn't betray it he gave a reptilian grin. "It seems Marduk isn't as affected by the loss of his head as the rest of us would be. He'll be alright." Marduk gave a thumbs-up, silently seconding his companion.

"Alright," replied Diodotus. "Then lets get moving again."

The group went back to the elevator and headed down once again, and ten minutes later they arrived. As they walked past the pile of broken sentinels and rubble, a voice emanated from it: "Quit your gawking and help me put myself back together, dammit. We don't want the bomb in there to go off, do we?"

Diodotus started when he heard the voice floating out of the rock, and after Marduk finished, he motioned frantically to the mercenaries and said, "What are you waiting for? Get his head!" They sauntered over and pushed aside bits of broken and burnt sentinels and finally found the skull head. A mercenary bent over to pick it up, but found he couldn't even budge it. Marduk came over and picked up the head and just set it under one of his arms.

They continued walking down the corridor, and they took in the sights - mainly, the labs in this level. Tycho couldn't help but look inside them as he walked past - there were long, tall racks on them, all over the floor, and anchored to them were glass jars - an incredible number of them. Some intact, some smashed. Tycho could see things in them, as well - and they looked human.

"Diodotus," he said. "What are those things?"

"Leftovers," he replied darkly. "From the last occupation of this Halo. Some character took a bid at taking over the Halo - she was trying to grow a body, I think."

"Grow a... body?"

"Thats what I said."

Tycho gulped and increased his pace to catch up with the rest of the group.

They came to another elevator, and Diodotus groaned, "Not another one!" However, the ride lasted only a few seconds. The doors slid open, and they went down a ramp and came into the gate room. The chamber was round, and dark. In its center stood the gate – and most assuredly, one of the strangest “gates” they had ever seen – it was a cube, standing in the middle of the room, a great hollow cube. There was wires and cables protruding from the wall, and every once in a while there would a spark would issue from one, and rubble and detritus littered all over the floor. Off to one side was a door – which presumably led down to the control room. The mercs cocked their rifles and began a sweep of the room, and another group went down into the control room, checking for any more guardians that might be lurking. They came back and and gave the all-clear sign, and Diodotus and his attendants came into the room – all of them were dressed in long, red robes, with hoods obscuring their face and sleeves obscuring their hands, giving them the look of some fell specter – though Diodotus had pulled back his hood. Tycho followed, in his civilian clothing, taking in these austere surroundings. That, and the heat; even in his comparatively light clothing, Tycho could feel the great heat and humidity of the room. He wondered how Diodotus and his “acolytes” could stand it in their heavy robes, though by now everyone was in a cold sweat as is. Diodotus motioned for the (tech) to take the correlator device and have it sync with the Jordaxian mainframe, and begin putting in the coordinates. He then turned to the acolytes and said,

“Let us begin.”

He then turned back toward the gate, and he and the acolytes began a low, melodic chanting in what Tycho was certain was the old language. The words seemed to reverberate and fill the room, and though he didn’t know what they meant, Tycho nonetheless was filled with feelings of age, might, and reverence as the solemn chanters weaved their eldritch song. The volcano far above them rumbled, shaking the room, but the singers were unperturbed. A low hum issued from below them, and a moment later, the gate activated – and everyone was hit by a powerful blast of air. Tycho was blown back out the doorway while Diodotus and the acolytes were thrust up against the wall. Diodotus peeled himself off it, mildly cursing. He and the acolytes finished their song and the gate glowed a deep shade of blood red, with a strange mist filling the whole box. The whole room turned the deep red color, and the feeling of heat seemed to intensify. They stood there, absolutely silent, waiting. The minutes dragged by. Diodotus, sensing a little impatience, spoke up while still staring raptly at the portal.

“It may take a little while. Just hang tight.”

He had barely finished speaking when the portal flashed, and something came through. Tycho rubbed his eyes as it had temporarily blinded him. He heard the gate power back down, and when he opened his eyes – someone was there. Tycho had known Diodotus for months, he had traveled for a week and some change, he had fought through the Halo’s guardians, he had done all sorts of things. Yet he wasn’t prepared for this moment; in part because, despite it all, he had significant doubt that anything would be coming through that portal. Yet now, there someone was. It was a she, and she was tall – extremely tall, well over six foot – yet she swayed there, looking unsteady, with a web of what looked like miniature lightning bolts arcing over her body, all of them leading back into the portal. They disappeared a moment later, and for a moment, she stood there unsteadily. She began to fall on her knees, but then her upper body changed direction and she fell backward, her lower legs and knees upright in the air while she splayed out on the ground, as if she had refused to fall on her knees. Diodotus also looked extremely faint, and even in the dying red glow of the gate, Tycho could tell he was pale. One of the acolytes rushed over to the woman to attend her, and the other helped support Diodotus. Some attendants rushed down the tunnel and brought a proper light in, and a moment later everyone was wincing as the bright white light bathed the circular room. After getting used to the light, Tycho began to look at her more closely. She was dressed in clothing that wasn’t shabby, but was worn and torn in a few spots, as if she had been in a struggle recently. Her face was like something you’d find on an old statue – it was smooth, youthful even, but it just seemed as if it was worn smooth, like a rock over many long years. It was also hard, even as she was unconscious now, defiant even. She had light, shoulder length hair, a very pale blond. The odds of this being a coincidence, by now, had become almost non-existent – she matched every description of Anikar that he had yet read. She was also bruised in spots – she had certainly been in a fight recently. Tycho and some of the medics that had been brought were crowding about her, sponging her forehead and another applying instant-vaccine, to protect her from foreign bacteria. Diodotus looked her over with an intense look in his eyes, checking the signs that signified she was definitely Anikar. He pulled back her hair by her ear, and checked one of her arms for something. He cradled his head in his hands and said.

“Dear God, there’s no other way – it’s got to be her. It is her…we did it.”

He then just looked on in a sort of dazed awe as the medics continued to treat her. They were calling for a stretcher when her eyes snapped open and she shoved the medics aside – throwing them across the room in the process – and leapt up into a defensive stance. Diodotus immediately got up and began rattling off as fast as he could in the old language, his hand gesticulating furiously, obviously trying to talk her down. At the first she had a look of fire in her eyes – she was certainly ready for a fight – but when Diodotus began to talk in the old language she was taken aback for a moment, and began looking around, amazed. She went over to him and they began a rapid conversation in the language, and only bits and pieces of it did Tycho comprehend, as his training in the language was limited. In addition, he now knew certainly why before becoming “Anikar the Great,” she was mainly known as “Anikar the Tall” – she towered over Diodotus, who was slightly above the average height of this age, which was greater indeed than the average height in her time. Diodotus motioned to everyone else, speaking more slowly now, likely trying to assure her that none of them intended to hurt her. She looked around, and spied one of the mercs with his rifle. She pointed to him and said something to Diodotus, who went over to him and said,

“Her ladyship requires your weapon, sir – and it would be most wise if you relinquished it.”

After seeing the medics fly across the room, the merc decided it was best not to anger her and he handed it to Diodotus who in turn gave it to her. She looked over it, turning it over and examined the switches on it, and then she held it pistol-style towards a wall and pulled the trigger. The gun gave a loud report and a plasma bolt slammed into the wall, blowing out part of it out. She gave an approving nod to Diodotus.

“We can go back to the surface now,” he said with relief. The whole group began walking back to the surface, but everyone was now dead quiet except Diodotus and Anikar, who were now busily talking away to each other in the old language. By now Tycho was wondering if the whole affair hadn’t been a dream; it all seemed so surreal, somehow. They all piled into the big freight elevator, and it began its transit back to the surface. In the rush to leave the eerie place, however, Diodotus and the team never switched off the gate – who knows what it would conjure up over the long lonely years under Mount Doom?

The return trip was much easier than the trip to - no other sentinels waited to impend their way again. They retraced their path through the complex, going back up again through the complex. In no time at all, it seemed they were back at the drop ships, and piling into the bricks and heading back for the Glorious Moderator.

Anikar, however, barely seemed phased by what she beheld - the horrors of the Mt. Doom complex, the sights and sounds of the modern age - she didn't even bat an eye. She continued talking in the old speech with Diodotus, their voices becoming background noise. Once Tycho got back to the ship, he made a beeline for his bed and went to sleep - he was exhausted.

Diodotus, however, was not so lucky. Anikar was naturally curious about all that had progressed in her ten-millenia absence, and it was up to him to fill her in on it all. She was a very patient audience, and eager enough to learn, though she had an almost unnerving, insightful curiosity. She asked questions about everything from history to physics to literature to politics. After they got back to the ship, Diodotus showed her to her new quarters - one of the state rooms that had been left in reserve for the occasion - then she took the conversation in a new direction.

"I thank you for going along with my questions thus far," said Anikar, "but surely you must have some of your own?"

"My lady, I would not presume to ask anything until you were done with your own questions," replied Diodotus in perfect Anikari. "Yet if you wish it, I shall ask. What do you next plan on doing, now that you have returned?"

"In the short term, I will disappear. You may not even see me again until the appointed time, friend Diodotus. I will learn, and I will prepare. House Riti has been steward of the throne the past six-hundred years, correct? I shall find a way to compel them to give it to their rightful queen once again. Fear not; I will not force my people to endure a civil war or massacre - such messy means to an end, are they. When I do move, it will be swiftly and silently, and no one will know until I sit on the throne. I will rule again, make no mistake, friend Diodotus. I will remember you and your house as well when I have ascended. You have served well, and done Tyrion proud. For now, though, I tire - you may go. I must rest."

Diodotus bowed low and exited the room. It was at once exciting and terrifying - she aspired to nothing less than the throne of the Empire! Technically, this wasn't treason - she was, after all, the rightful ruler. Now, all that was left to do once again, was wait - he seemed to be made for it. Wait and hope.