Tzeentch Incarnate
12-05-2006, 22:16
The rain’s relentless assault upon the concrete embankments doubled, as though the futility and impossibility of harm upon the latter’s superior strength drove the weather patterns overhead into frenzy. Streams of water skirted downwards, reflecting the harsh perimeter lights which forced the nocturnal black from the constructs of the civilised and added a second skin of silver to the stretching supports.
Failing to join the vast currents flowing downwards, pools of rainwater settled instead within the cavities and contours of a rifle left unattended upon the ledge; the casing a bright red and spoiled in its uniform colour only by the thinnest of lines declaring where one section of the protective plating ended and another began, relenting to a black sheath surrounding a silver barrel whose terminating muzzle displayed the only damage apparent—blackened from discharges beyond the expertise of cleaning rituals.
A gauntleted fist swept the weapon from its lonely perch, shaking it liberally and banishing the settled water to stream overboard, joined by a second hand which assisted the first in frustrating the weather’s ineffective attack.
Alex checked the charge remaining in his rifle’s power pack, satisfied it was in no need of changing for the arduous task of policing nothing and securing little. Passing the shoulder strap over his head, the rifle slid to waste level, free of restraining hands. From Alex’s vantage point the stretching urban blanket of the capital ended suddenly, barred from expansion by the immense perimeter wall which stood many times the height of the men whom had constructed it, bettered in height only by the guard complexes like his own and perhaps the Parliament building in the city’s centre.
The lands immediately beyond the sculptured concrete and glittering metals of the capital were drab and grey without the benefit of ingenuity to bring light outside the sun’s reach; rolling hills which climbed to lazy peaks hardly noticeable and flattened once more into expansive plains swept clear by the driving rains until nothing more than a quagmire of mud and rock remained.
Seeing nothing worthy of observing, Alex turned his gaze upwards to the sky, making a mockery of the huge distances visible by courtesy of the flat terrain surrounding his position by offering the entirety of the heavens to stare upon. In a position that should be dominant, the twin moons of Miranda and Athena hung motionless as guardians of their mother-world, sharing the sky with a handful of stars visible through the driving rains.
Yet the inky blue above was not so arranged, for another presence hung silently and unavoidably in the depths of the void beyond the clouds and atmosphere. Where the moons were almost imperceptible in their unconscious desire to be at one with the sky, this abomination scarred the gaze with wrenching, violent yellows twisting insanely amidst swirling blue eddies. Twisting as a vortex which seemed to feed on the fabric of space itself, pulling and distorting the points of light making up the blanket of stars and draining them in a pattern of spiral madness.
This ethereal dance occupied a portion of the sky which rivalled the stature of the two moons, and drew attention in the form of distasteful glances and scrutinising gazes. The Maelstrom, as it was known to Alex and the people of Calesares, remained blight upon what was widely regarded as the jewel of the local sector.
Of what precisely begat the Maelstrom none were certain, for the Celestial Eye as it was also known appeared in any number of historical accounts throughout the history of the people of Calesares, from the stone carvings of the prehistoric cave-people to the aristocratic oligarchy of medieval Kingdoms and any in between. And yet despite this terrible scar upon the pristine flesh of the Calesares solar system, the eye had done nothing more than observe for ten thousand years of confirmed history—if indeed the Maelstrom was anything more unique than a nebula, or red dwarf.
Until recently, Alex thought with a confusing mix of sarcasm and bitterness. Scanning the horizon visible only to those whom could make the obvious statement to its continued existence, and satisfied nothing stirred the Guardsman released his rifle to his side once more.
The Maelstrom had been the focus of much scientific study by the civilian and military branches, from the earliest telescopes to unmanned probes and only in the previous few decades, manned interstellar flight—with all but the very latter yielding anything beyond inconclusive nothingness. For the antennae and recording devices of the various probes recorded a region suffused with energy and activity when compared to the relative stillness, and residual radiation of uneventful space; A swirling whirlpool of intense, buffeting forces more akin to solar winds amplified many times over—ultimately taking each of the probes which approached to destruction or ends unknown beyond monitoring.
Crewed vessels made their goal of visiting this spacial storm long before the original orbiters had left the planning stages, and built plans of exploration far beyond what their simple chemical rocket delivery systems were capable of fulfilling. Such fragile environments evolved, eventually proving capable of negotiating worlds where first scarce few men and then entire families landed upon the twin moons, and other planets of the system.
Alex allowed his arm to trail the handrail as he climbed a level above, the clapping of his rifle against the flexible armour-jacket adorning his torso the only additional sounds beyond the continually falling rains and the thrums and murmurs of urban life below and behind. Ahead nothing stirred, beyond the softening topsoil to mud and the thirst of the rivers flowing quenched. Entering the observation station upon that particular floor of the guard complex, he deposited the rifle upon the desk and released the chin strap upon his standard issue tactical helmet—as uniform grey and utilitarian as anything else issued to the Calesares Planetary Defence Force.
Alex set his helmet upturned in a tray so as to collect the rainwater draining from its tough outer skin with the minimum of mess, before settling down into the swivel chair which provided an excellent view of the console and its various display screens therein. Collecting an unimpressively painted thermos flask he poured a cup’s worth of coffee—the harsh, almost eye-watering aroma of the military ration as effective in its job to retain wakefulness in smell as in taste.
Calling up the electronic library repository on an auxiliary screen Alex searched through the fleet listings of the Interstellar Navy, seeking a specific image and entry for the name burned into the memory of any who carried an interest in the earlier off-world exploits of the Calesaren people outside their cradle, and to further fuel his current line of thoughts.
The exploits and discoveries of many of the ships of the Navy were as varied as they vessels themselves were long-lived; long and illustrious records of discovery, defence and humanitarian work upon the sea and between the stars. Unfortunately some ships were not so lucky to be remembered for their achievements, rather more their failure or tragic ends—lost in the line of duty, or otherwise removed by accident or occasionally foreign design.
Of such a failure, the hardest to quantify were those lost in a purpose for which the entirety of their being was sculpted to achieve; without a vast remit and with only one task at hand to which the skills and abilities of a generation would be turned. Such a failure weighed bitterly in one particular case, where the pioneers and intellects of the finest minds felt the heavy burden of many decades efforts laid to waste with little to no explanation.
The C.I.S. Discovery had been conceived for only one purpose, many years before the technology to fully exploit the desire had become available—to perform the most sophisticated and in-depth analysis of the Maelstrom and to finally identify the nature of the celestial phenomena. What had begun as the product of a national think-tank, one amidst thousands of projects awaiting a rejection stamp or green light, soon captured the attention of a world that had grown and aged beneath the baleful eye and now desired to learn the reasons behind its gaze.
So it was that an eclectic mix of young, eager initiates to all branches of government and industry, as well as the tempered, and well-tried hands of the most experienced men of the Navy populated the very pinnacle of engineering and interstellar design. Self-sufficient in her ability to operate for almost six months of continuous operations without refuelling, carving a bold new exploratory frontier far beyond the reach of the world which spawned her.
The most sophisticated sensor equipment ever conceived, much of it prototype in nature, would furnish the Discovery with unrivalled information-gathering capability; the true nature of the Maelstrom, and her existence would soon be read by any number of school children in textbooks alongside Nebula and the other once-wonders now understood occurrences of space.
Alex swilled the remaining liquid in the cup, swallowing the lukewarm contents and suppressing all but a grimace at the tart, black taste. Replacing the top, and retrieving his helmet the Guardsman left the relative comfort of the sentry point and resumed his thankless walk across the winding metal battlements anchored upon the sloping concrete perimeter walls.
Brass bands, resplendent in shining bronze and immaculately pressed uniforms topped by individually combed feathers; the brightest minds of the planet’s universities, primary schools and gifted institutions; the most angelic and uplifting voices of the finest church choirs; the dictation devices and cameras of the largest media conglomerates as well as a hundred lesser networks; all walks of life gathered to ensure a memorable send off.
Memories of the Discovery were all that remained tangible, as the months rolled by—the music of the band; the voices of the choir; all the pomposity faded into obscurity as the six month operational limit came and passed with no word or record of deeds. Statements pertaining to progress degraded from optimistic explanations of the cutting edge nature of the mission—there were many variables “home base” could not foresee—to suggestions of malfunction and finally, a deep-seated resignation to catastrophe.
Such whispers of doom were strengthened in their hysteria by the total lack of vessels capable of traversing the great distance between Calesares and the Maelstrom, for the march of technology had brooked for no stragglers, and whilst the Discovery might have indeed been the first in a bold new period of exploration there were none ready to join her trail-blazing wake.
It had taken almost a decade for the only remnants of the lost ship’s existence to come to light; a sole message constructed from what appeared to be any number of materials, rather than the emergency distress beacon as one might expect, or even a standard probe variation. The data contained within all but wiped clear by a combination of years adrift without sufficient protection from the harshness of space, and hushed mutterings of a darker nature.
A simple entry; Vessel declared lost, presumed destroyed, was all that remained of the Discovery and a prerogative that had been amongst the most ambitious ever recorded, and a fleet service life shorter than many failed prototypes upon technical drawing paper or within workshops.
That such a disappointment might plague the psyche of a people confident in their spirit of adventure to overcome was hardly surprising to Alex, himself a failed applicant to the fiercely contested Interstellar Naval Academy Expeditionary Core. The number of applications outstripping even the most mundane posting on a starship, and contributing to the perceived quality of the program at large.
Ignoring for the meantime the Eye, the Guardsman focused on a particularly glimmering point of light basking upon the rim of Athena; study of charts rather than first-hand experience assuring what he gazed upon was the furthest world in the Calesares system—the rocky orb of Esuine. Composed almost entirely of towering, splintered chains of black rock the surface of the freezing planet seemed antithetical to Human life; blinding storms raging above vast oceans of frozen ammonia, constantly scouring peaks which tore through the almost non-existent atmosphere surrounding.
An irony perhaps, that the mysteries of the Maelstrom would be somewhat explained here, rather than the seat of intellectualism and understanding, within the winding corridors of the most learned universities or think-tanks of Calesares itself. For in a grandiose announcement of achievement and scientific endeavour the Planetary Governor of Esuine, a scholar misplaced amidst the frozen tundra, declared that the scientific research institute whose existence served as the primary purpose of habitation on the outermost planet had ascertained the true nature of the Maelstrom.
Assembled from painstaking examination of fully two other civilisations’ experience in some proximity to the Celestial Eye, along with the Governor’s own privately funded unmanned exploration programmes, valuable insights into the phenomena were gleamed. The Maelstrom was no mere event on par with a Nebula, but an intersection of realities; a tear within the fabric of space which allowed the stuff of an ethereal realm to pour through. As a dyke might bear a crack from which the vast waves of the ocean trickled through slowly, but irresistibly, so this other dimension or facet of reality merged with our own.
The properties of this dimension were almost entirely unknown, for any probe dispatched from Esuine as those from Calesares found to their cost, were lost when closing the distances to examine further—final readings confirming tremendous levels of wildly fluctuating energy which seemed to disregard the laws of physics so vital to the understanding of the physical.
Further the experts of Esuine declared, entry into the Maelstrom for any purpose, was a physical impossibility if one laid control of course and a margin of safety as a minimal prerequisite. The volatile nature of the Eye rendered it inhospitable to the craft of normal space, without the modifications needed to survive in this reality which seemingly rejected such knowledgeable men as Einstein, and Newton.
The Planetary Governor had left his final announcement in reserve so as to top the shock inflicted—though only a series of sketches and theories, plans were afoot to construct the necessary engines to traverse the horizon of the Maelstrom and finally sate the slavering hunger of the scientific community to understand and learn.
Alex still possessed one of the original press releases from Esuine, framed for posterity and adorning his mantelpiece at home. An original possession of his father, whom had dictated it be passed on upon his death, it lost none of the excitement of the original statement, even thirty years onwards.
Progress in the newest phase of the project to conquer the unknown was considerably slowed where haste might have been expected, with many critics having broken from the unity the Discovery project had originally enjoyed. New factors came to light which could not be so easily ignored by patriotism or excitement; the realities of the dangers of travelling beyond the cradle, losses of entire crew to the void; technologies promising fundamental changes to the methods of propulsion beyond which monitoring would be exceptionally difficult and of course, the financial concerns of building additional vessels with the abandonment of the one-ship-one-hope policy.
Alex sighed loudly, rubbing a palm across his weathered forehead beneath the protective lip of the helmet. The original motives of the newly reborn mission seemed impossibly pure, uncontaminated dreams of knowledge garnered when compared to the cynical times of Alex and the rest of his people currently.
Those ships were indeed constructed amidst the doubts, and the criticisms—worries bypassed and the march of time answered with the most advanced technologies possible. Yet the spirit of the fleet had changed utterly within months of the barest bones of the hulls laid, with fear and a creeping dread of the unknown replacing the burning curiosity.
One world had failed to see their achievements altered by the change in circumstance—Esuine and her sixty-thousand strong scientific contingent, nestled amidst the inhospitable landscape of a planet bathed only dimly by the warming light of her sun, had been irrevocably changed by a force as unknown as it had been swift and unchallengeable.
The garbled communiqués spoke of the shadows of the black peaks disassociating themselves from their physical masters and taking forms of their own, slithering across the lakes of ammonia and upwards to blot the weak sun from the sky and enveloping the pressurised domes. Startled reports of vessels, misshapen and elongated with bristling tresses and outcrops of metal, moving into orbit before the non-existent atmosphere of Esuine suddenly generated suffocating cloud cover with gases it did not possess to put to work.
Scrambled images of lightning strikes whose tendrils bore a size more appropriate to the mountains they impacted illuminated arcing, whipping waves of furious energy which obliterated the reinforced structures fastened to the rock. From the shadows given form streams of concussive force tore apart reinforced metals and disintegrated the remains, the occasional glimmer of heavy, plated armour upon the shapes betraying their mortality.
Other creatures did quite the opposite, revealing the impossibility of their biological existence by wheeling and dancing upon the frozen gases with no form of protection visible. Great gouts of coruscating purple flame erupted from limbs ending not in dexterous fingers for the manipulation of surroundings, but obscene twisting orifices surrounded by bulging spines. The wall of flame complemented the impossible creatures by resisting the effects any normal attempt at such a weapon’s deployment on a world of ice and cold.
The remains of habitation on Esuine went undiscovered in person for a further three months, whilst an ultimately futile operation to rescue survivors and drive the hostile forces from the System was pieced together. For the resources of Calesares were thinly stretched, and there existed no reserve for which to commission a new fleet to investigate the apparent purging of Esuine. It was with little recourse then that the existing number of vessels whose original purpose was to front a brave new exploration of the Maelstrom were redirected to a more graven purpose, even as they began shakedown testing.
Alex had protested the decision to all that would listen, though said group consisted of nothing more than this patrol squad, and even they were loathe being subject to his insistence of fault at a higher level. With perhaps some justification, he had argued that the Discovery mission’s lack of logical, dispassionate preparation had lead to its failure and now to dispatch a second experimental fleet, tasked with an additional mission to engage and destroy aggression forces, seemed at least to Alex a foolhardy move.
Yet Alex’s own remit was nothing more extensive than a small quadrant of the perimeter wall; neither the scope nor importance to entitle him to challenge the combined experience and knowledge of the entirety of the Interstellar Navy and the government it reported to. The decision as it stood had already been made, and the Esuine recovery fleet had departed Calesares to no fanfare and little more than sombre remembrance almost three weeks before this cold, rainy night.
Alex swept his vision clear, ringing his soaked hand against the rail and scanning the horizon for signs of activity. For the third time finding nothing to pique his interest, or training, the Guardsman let his weight lean upon the battlement in front. Such concerns of worlds beyond his own were far higher than his duty allowed him to intervene upon, and duty thusly demanded full attention. Returning to the monotony of a land bereft of movements beyond pooling water, he watched, and waited.
Failing to join the vast currents flowing downwards, pools of rainwater settled instead within the cavities and contours of a rifle left unattended upon the ledge; the casing a bright red and spoiled in its uniform colour only by the thinnest of lines declaring where one section of the protective plating ended and another began, relenting to a black sheath surrounding a silver barrel whose terminating muzzle displayed the only damage apparent—blackened from discharges beyond the expertise of cleaning rituals.
A gauntleted fist swept the weapon from its lonely perch, shaking it liberally and banishing the settled water to stream overboard, joined by a second hand which assisted the first in frustrating the weather’s ineffective attack.
Alex checked the charge remaining in his rifle’s power pack, satisfied it was in no need of changing for the arduous task of policing nothing and securing little. Passing the shoulder strap over his head, the rifle slid to waste level, free of restraining hands. From Alex’s vantage point the stretching urban blanket of the capital ended suddenly, barred from expansion by the immense perimeter wall which stood many times the height of the men whom had constructed it, bettered in height only by the guard complexes like his own and perhaps the Parliament building in the city’s centre.
The lands immediately beyond the sculptured concrete and glittering metals of the capital were drab and grey without the benefit of ingenuity to bring light outside the sun’s reach; rolling hills which climbed to lazy peaks hardly noticeable and flattened once more into expansive plains swept clear by the driving rains until nothing more than a quagmire of mud and rock remained.
Seeing nothing worthy of observing, Alex turned his gaze upwards to the sky, making a mockery of the huge distances visible by courtesy of the flat terrain surrounding his position by offering the entirety of the heavens to stare upon. In a position that should be dominant, the twin moons of Miranda and Athena hung motionless as guardians of their mother-world, sharing the sky with a handful of stars visible through the driving rains.
Yet the inky blue above was not so arranged, for another presence hung silently and unavoidably in the depths of the void beyond the clouds and atmosphere. Where the moons were almost imperceptible in their unconscious desire to be at one with the sky, this abomination scarred the gaze with wrenching, violent yellows twisting insanely amidst swirling blue eddies. Twisting as a vortex which seemed to feed on the fabric of space itself, pulling and distorting the points of light making up the blanket of stars and draining them in a pattern of spiral madness.
This ethereal dance occupied a portion of the sky which rivalled the stature of the two moons, and drew attention in the form of distasteful glances and scrutinising gazes. The Maelstrom, as it was known to Alex and the people of Calesares, remained blight upon what was widely regarded as the jewel of the local sector.
Of what precisely begat the Maelstrom none were certain, for the Celestial Eye as it was also known appeared in any number of historical accounts throughout the history of the people of Calesares, from the stone carvings of the prehistoric cave-people to the aristocratic oligarchy of medieval Kingdoms and any in between. And yet despite this terrible scar upon the pristine flesh of the Calesares solar system, the eye had done nothing more than observe for ten thousand years of confirmed history—if indeed the Maelstrom was anything more unique than a nebula, or red dwarf.
Until recently, Alex thought with a confusing mix of sarcasm and bitterness. Scanning the horizon visible only to those whom could make the obvious statement to its continued existence, and satisfied nothing stirred the Guardsman released his rifle to his side once more.
The Maelstrom had been the focus of much scientific study by the civilian and military branches, from the earliest telescopes to unmanned probes and only in the previous few decades, manned interstellar flight—with all but the very latter yielding anything beyond inconclusive nothingness. For the antennae and recording devices of the various probes recorded a region suffused with energy and activity when compared to the relative stillness, and residual radiation of uneventful space; A swirling whirlpool of intense, buffeting forces more akin to solar winds amplified many times over—ultimately taking each of the probes which approached to destruction or ends unknown beyond monitoring.
Crewed vessels made their goal of visiting this spacial storm long before the original orbiters had left the planning stages, and built plans of exploration far beyond what their simple chemical rocket delivery systems were capable of fulfilling. Such fragile environments evolved, eventually proving capable of negotiating worlds where first scarce few men and then entire families landed upon the twin moons, and other planets of the system.
Alex allowed his arm to trail the handrail as he climbed a level above, the clapping of his rifle against the flexible armour-jacket adorning his torso the only additional sounds beyond the continually falling rains and the thrums and murmurs of urban life below and behind. Ahead nothing stirred, beyond the softening topsoil to mud and the thirst of the rivers flowing quenched. Entering the observation station upon that particular floor of the guard complex, he deposited the rifle upon the desk and released the chin strap upon his standard issue tactical helmet—as uniform grey and utilitarian as anything else issued to the Calesares Planetary Defence Force.
Alex set his helmet upturned in a tray so as to collect the rainwater draining from its tough outer skin with the minimum of mess, before settling down into the swivel chair which provided an excellent view of the console and its various display screens therein. Collecting an unimpressively painted thermos flask he poured a cup’s worth of coffee—the harsh, almost eye-watering aroma of the military ration as effective in its job to retain wakefulness in smell as in taste.
Calling up the electronic library repository on an auxiliary screen Alex searched through the fleet listings of the Interstellar Navy, seeking a specific image and entry for the name burned into the memory of any who carried an interest in the earlier off-world exploits of the Calesaren people outside their cradle, and to further fuel his current line of thoughts.
The exploits and discoveries of many of the ships of the Navy were as varied as they vessels themselves were long-lived; long and illustrious records of discovery, defence and humanitarian work upon the sea and between the stars. Unfortunately some ships were not so lucky to be remembered for their achievements, rather more their failure or tragic ends—lost in the line of duty, or otherwise removed by accident or occasionally foreign design.
Of such a failure, the hardest to quantify were those lost in a purpose for which the entirety of their being was sculpted to achieve; without a vast remit and with only one task at hand to which the skills and abilities of a generation would be turned. Such a failure weighed bitterly in one particular case, where the pioneers and intellects of the finest minds felt the heavy burden of many decades efforts laid to waste with little to no explanation.
The C.I.S. Discovery had been conceived for only one purpose, many years before the technology to fully exploit the desire had become available—to perform the most sophisticated and in-depth analysis of the Maelstrom and to finally identify the nature of the celestial phenomena. What had begun as the product of a national think-tank, one amidst thousands of projects awaiting a rejection stamp or green light, soon captured the attention of a world that had grown and aged beneath the baleful eye and now desired to learn the reasons behind its gaze.
So it was that an eclectic mix of young, eager initiates to all branches of government and industry, as well as the tempered, and well-tried hands of the most experienced men of the Navy populated the very pinnacle of engineering and interstellar design. Self-sufficient in her ability to operate for almost six months of continuous operations without refuelling, carving a bold new exploratory frontier far beyond the reach of the world which spawned her.
The most sophisticated sensor equipment ever conceived, much of it prototype in nature, would furnish the Discovery with unrivalled information-gathering capability; the true nature of the Maelstrom, and her existence would soon be read by any number of school children in textbooks alongside Nebula and the other once-wonders now understood occurrences of space.
Alex swilled the remaining liquid in the cup, swallowing the lukewarm contents and suppressing all but a grimace at the tart, black taste. Replacing the top, and retrieving his helmet the Guardsman left the relative comfort of the sentry point and resumed his thankless walk across the winding metal battlements anchored upon the sloping concrete perimeter walls.
Brass bands, resplendent in shining bronze and immaculately pressed uniforms topped by individually combed feathers; the brightest minds of the planet’s universities, primary schools and gifted institutions; the most angelic and uplifting voices of the finest church choirs; the dictation devices and cameras of the largest media conglomerates as well as a hundred lesser networks; all walks of life gathered to ensure a memorable send off.
Memories of the Discovery were all that remained tangible, as the months rolled by—the music of the band; the voices of the choir; all the pomposity faded into obscurity as the six month operational limit came and passed with no word or record of deeds. Statements pertaining to progress degraded from optimistic explanations of the cutting edge nature of the mission—there were many variables “home base” could not foresee—to suggestions of malfunction and finally, a deep-seated resignation to catastrophe.
Such whispers of doom were strengthened in their hysteria by the total lack of vessels capable of traversing the great distance between Calesares and the Maelstrom, for the march of technology had brooked for no stragglers, and whilst the Discovery might have indeed been the first in a bold new period of exploration there were none ready to join her trail-blazing wake.
It had taken almost a decade for the only remnants of the lost ship’s existence to come to light; a sole message constructed from what appeared to be any number of materials, rather than the emergency distress beacon as one might expect, or even a standard probe variation. The data contained within all but wiped clear by a combination of years adrift without sufficient protection from the harshness of space, and hushed mutterings of a darker nature.
A simple entry; Vessel declared lost, presumed destroyed, was all that remained of the Discovery and a prerogative that had been amongst the most ambitious ever recorded, and a fleet service life shorter than many failed prototypes upon technical drawing paper or within workshops.
That such a disappointment might plague the psyche of a people confident in their spirit of adventure to overcome was hardly surprising to Alex, himself a failed applicant to the fiercely contested Interstellar Naval Academy Expeditionary Core. The number of applications outstripping even the most mundane posting on a starship, and contributing to the perceived quality of the program at large.
Ignoring for the meantime the Eye, the Guardsman focused on a particularly glimmering point of light basking upon the rim of Athena; study of charts rather than first-hand experience assuring what he gazed upon was the furthest world in the Calesares system—the rocky orb of Esuine. Composed almost entirely of towering, splintered chains of black rock the surface of the freezing planet seemed antithetical to Human life; blinding storms raging above vast oceans of frozen ammonia, constantly scouring peaks which tore through the almost non-existent atmosphere surrounding.
An irony perhaps, that the mysteries of the Maelstrom would be somewhat explained here, rather than the seat of intellectualism and understanding, within the winding corridors of the most learned universities or think-tanks of Calesares itself. For in a grandiose announcement of achievement and scientific endeavour the Planetary Governor of Esuine, a scholar misplaced amidst the frozen tundra, declared that the scientific research institute whose existence served as the primary purpose of habitation on the outermost planet had ascertained the true nature of the Maelstrom.
Assembled from painstaking examination of fully two other civilisations’ experience in some proximity to the Celestial Eye, along with the Governor’s own privately funded unmanned exploration programmes, valuable insights into the phenomena were gleamed. The Maelstrom was no mere event on par with a Nebula, but an intersection of realities; a tear within the fabric of space which allowed the stuff of an ethereal realm to pour through. As a dyke might bear a crack from which the vast waves of the ocean trickled through slowly, but irresistibly, so this other dimension or facet of reality merged with our own.
The properties of this dimension were almost entirely unknown, for any probe dispatched from Esuine as those from Calesares found to their cost, were lost when closing the distances to examine further—final readings confirming tremendous levels of wildly fluctuating energy which seemed to disregard the laws of physics so vital to the understanding of the physical.
Further the experts of Esuine declared, entry into the Maelstrom for any purpose, was a physical impossibility if one laid control of course and a margin of safety as a minimal prerequisite. The volatile nature of the Eye rendered it inhospitable to the craft of normal space, without the modifications needed to survive in this reality which seemingly rejected such knowledgeable men as Einstein, and Newton.
The Planetary Governor had left his final announcement in reserve so as to top the shock inflicted—though only a series of sketches and theories, plans were afoot to construct the necessary engines to traverse the horizon of the Maelstrom and finally sate the slavering hunger of the scientific community to understand and learn.
Alex still possessed one of the original press releases from Esuine, framed for posterity and adorning his mantelpiece at home. An original possession of his father, whom had dictated it be passed on upon his death, it lost none of the excitement of the original statement, even thirty years onwards.
Progress in the newest phase of the project to conquer the unknown was considerably slowed where haste might have been expected, with many critics having broken from the unity the Discovery project had originally enjoyed. New factors came to light which could not be so easily ignored by patriotism or excitement; the realities of the dangers of travelling beyond the cradle, losses of entire crew to the void; technologies promising fundamental changes to the methods of propulsion beyond which monitoring would be exceptionally difficult and of course, the financial concerns of building additional vessels with the abandonment of the one-ship-one-hope policy.
Alex sighed loudly, rubbing a palm across his weathered forehead beneath the protective lip of the helmet. The original motives of the newly reborn mission seemed impossibly pure, uncontaminated dreams of knowledge garnered when compared to the cynical times of Alex and the rest of his people currently.
Those ships were indeed constructed amidst the doubts, and the criticisms—worries bypassed and the march of time answered with the most advanced technologies possible. Yet the spirit of the fleet had changed utterly within months of the barest bones of the hulls laid, with fear and a creeping dread of the unknown replacing the burning curiosity.
One world had failed to see their achievements altered by the change in circumstance—Esuine and her sixty-thousand strong scientific contingent, nestled amidst the inhospitable landscape of a planet bathed only dimly by the warming light of her sun, had been irrevocably changed by a force as unknown as it had been swift and unchallengeable.
The garbled communiqués spoke of the shadows of the black peaks disassociating themselves from their physical masters and taking forms of their own, slithering across the lakes of ammonia and upwards to blot the weak sun from the sky and enveloping the pressurised domes. Startled reports of vessels, misshapen and elongated with bristling tresses and outcrops of metal, moving into orbit before the non-existent atmosphere of Esuine suddenly generated suffocating cloud cover with gases it did not possess to put to work.
Scrambled images of lightning strikes whose tendrils bore a size more appropriate to the mountains they impacted illuminated arcing, whipping waves of furious energy which obliterated the reinforced structures fastened to the rock. From the shadows given form streams of concussive force tore apart reinforced metals and disintegrated the remains, the occasional glimmer of heavy, plated armour upon the shapes betraying their mortality.
Other creatures did quite the opposite, revealing the impossibility of their biological existence by wheeling and dancing upon the frozen gases with no form of protection visible. Great gouts of coruscating purple flame erupted from limbs ending not in dexterous fingers for the manipulation of surroundings, but obscene twisting orifices surrounded by bulging spines. The wall of flame complemented the impossible creatures by resisting the effects any normal attempt at such a weapon’s deployment on a world of ice and cold.
The remains of habitation on Esuine went undiscovered in person for a further three months, whilst an ultimately futile operation to rescue survivors and drive the hostile forces from the System was pieced together. For the resources of Calesares were thinly stretched, and there existed no reserve for which to commission a new fleet to investigate the apparent purging of Esuine. It was with little recourse then that the existing number of vessels whose original purpose was to front a brave new exploration of the Maelstrom were redirected to a more graven purpose, even as they began shakedown testing.
Alex had protested the decision to all that would listen, though said group consisted of nothing more than this patrol squad, and even they were loathe being subject to his insistence of fault at a higher level. With perhaps some justification, he had argued that the Discovery mission’s lack of logical, dispassionate preparation had lead to its failure and now to dispatch a second experimental fleet, tasked with an additional mission to engage and destroy aggression forces, seemed at least to Alex a foolhardy move.
Yet Alex’s own remit was nothing more extensive than a small quadrant of the perimeter wall; neither the scope nor importance to entitle him to challenge the combined experience and knowledge of the entirety of the Interstellar Navy and the government it reported to. The decision as it stood had already been made, and the Esuine recovery fleet had departed Calesares to no fanfare and little more than sombre remembrance almost three weeks before this cold, rainy night.
Alex swept his vision clear, ringing his soaked hand against the rail and scanning the horizon for signs of activity. For the third time finding nothing to pique his interest, or training, the Guardsman let his weight lean upon the battlement in front. Such concerns of worlds beyond his own were far higher than his duty allowed him to intervene upon, and duty thusly demanded full attention. Returning to the monotony of a land bereft of movements beyond pooling water, he watched, and waited.