Alone in the Void (Kraken and Lamar))

(Prequel to The Black Fleet )


“That is not dead which can eternal lie, yet with stranger aeons, even Death may die.”
-Howard Philips Lovecraft excerpt from “The Nameless”



“Why weren’t contacted sooner, Captain? You’ve been out here for days and it never occurred to you to report this.” Karl Valten, donned in the black and crimson of the Imperial Inquisition, focused his energy on berating the unfortunate officer in front of him. Flanking the Inquisitor was a quintet of stoic Inquisitorial commandos, each one hidden behind a shell of rust-red armor and each one carrying an assortment of weapons.

Captain Teresias fidgeted behind the heavy mahogany desk; the Inquisitorial squad had arrived just an hour earlier and as soon as their corvette had touched down the ISD’s hangar, had practically stormed into his personal quarters. “Look, derelict ships are pretty common out here, with all the pirate activity. We just figured that this was a routine finding. We can’t go calling in every strange thing we find, Inquisitor

Karl slammed his fists down on the table, knocking over several small trinkets strewn haphazardly on the surface. The Inquisitor drew close with a sneer. “Routine?” Karl jerked his thumb in the direction of the massive alien ship on the captain’s holo-wall. “Yes I can see that, abandoned ship big enough to be a battlecruiser, a design never seen before, no life signs, and better yet, no sign of damage”

Valten brought himself closer to the captain. “I guess I can accept that, but here’s where you made a mistake, captain.” One of the crimson soldiers stepped forward, dropping a folder filled with papers. “Sending out scout parties to that ship without contacting your superiors and withholding information from the Inquisitoriate is grounds for a full investigation of your command. Now is there anything in here you want to tell me about before I read through this.’

“Alright” The captain looked slightly terrified at this point, just the threat Inquisitorial investigation and the possibility of actually having a hearing at one of their facilities was enough to scare most imperial personnel. People tended to disappear when an Inquisitor was around. “We picked up a mass shadow on long-range visual sensors, if it hadn’t screened a profile on the nebula we would never have found. I sent out a scout flight and they found that” Karl straightened back up, Teresias was spilling information easily now. “They ran scans and found the whole thing dead, not even any energy signals. But, when I brought the Sunderer in for a more detailed scan, the thing lit up like a torch. You would believe the energy spike when it came online. I put us on combat alert, but nothing else happened. It must have been a proximity detector that triggered it. After that, well I thought it was best to send group over to see if we could find anything before calling it in….to make sure it was even worth calling in.”

Karl pawned the folder, turning to look at the image of the stranger vessel. “I’m sure” The Inquisitor stood, gazing ‘out’ at the find with Captain Teresias fidgeting behind his desk. “Hmm…with the state of the Empire as it, a ship with potential new technologies would be quite a treasure, wouldn’t you say.” Teresias held his tongue as Valten turned towards the door. “Many people would pay a fortune for this...” The door hissed open and Karl paused before walking out. “I’m betting this could make a grand flagship for someone with…warlord aspirations.” Faceless soldiers followed the Inquisitor out of the room; leave Captain Teresias in the dark.

The squad silently made their way in the direction of the hangar to speak with the officer in charge of searching the alien ship. As they moved, Karl tossed the folder down a nearby garbage shoot. A folder full of papers detailing nothing more than the current stock rates.

A callous activity paraded through the hangar bay. The continuous abrasive cadence beat from the tampering of droids as ships came to smooth halts. Officers of all kind trotted a long to handle analysis, checkups and rudimentary work. All of it was quite dull and boring, especially accented with Imperial uniforms. The blurs of whites, blacks and grays allowed the forever moving figures to almost blend in with the hangar. The people become nonexistent, even when Lamar conversed with them.

It had been about two standard hours since his arrival, and his platoon still hadn't been placed in active duty. Only a days ago they had been transferred by General Hinjis from a run-down outpost for a routine inspection, but it had only recently sunk in. Instead of gradually being noticed, it punched the squad leader all at once. The boredom infected Lamar's features until they contorted into a slump.

Over the last year he had been spoiled with action. Even at the bases he had taken recon on, or guard he was always dealing with somebody. Here there was just shades of colors, and idiotic buffoons misplaced as Imperial officers.

A sigh escaped his mouth, allowing another forced breath to come out. He was on the brink of killing himself, holding onto his Scout Trooper helm under his arm for dear life. If it wasn't for a slight nudge to his side, he might have very well gave it all up.

"Lieutenant. We're all done here."

"Finally..."

Hangar Bay of the Sunderer

The Imperial Stormtrooper squad would be debarking shortly to begin their inspection of the derelict vessel drifting off the bow of the Imperial Star Destroyer. The Imperial battleship was dwarfed in size compared to this immense vessel, stretching out for several kilometers into the void facing torwards the nebula.

His armour polished a solid white from the daily morning shine routine, his legs clacked together, holding his blaster rifle at attention against his chest, stood stormtrooper Park Alexei Kraken, one of the regulars aboard the Imperial warship that had been chosen for the mission at hand. Standing a very standard six foot six inches tall, he was the norm for Imperial infantry during the height of the Empire, but now was a little above norm for the era that they were transiting into, or rather, had started to transition into. After the debacle at Endor, Imperial commanders were now rallying their routed troops and reforming, and worlds that had any thought of defecting after the Emporer's death were now being given a second chance to stay in the graces of the Empire before extermination began.

Park took a small, shallow breath. He had been standing at attention for sometime now, and was beginning to get a little tired. It wasn't that this was particulary long wait, he had stood longer inline during daily parades and inspections during his training at Carida, but he had expected a relativley short attention period before they were supposed to have embarked upon their Sentinel shuttles in preparation for the boarding operations. However, a ship of the Imperial Inqusition was docked inside the hangar bay of the destroyer, and Park guessed that the captian had made a foolish mistake of some kind or another. After all, hardly the only time a Inquisitor was present was if an Inqusition was needed to be brought against a person or people.

But finally the time came for them to being boarding operations. Their commander ordered them to embark. Turning in line with the men of his platoon, he began marching across the hangar bay deck, heading torwards the ramp of the shuttle. Turning slightly to the right, he noticed the Inqusitiors had returned to the hangar bay from wherever they had been. The capitan was not among them. Smiling slightly, Alexei continued marching.

Valten and his retinue strode into a hangar laced with anticipation. Troopers eager for an escape from the Sunderer’s monotony filed aboard their shuttles while the officers were busy barking orders; flight deck hands and technicians fueling the boarding craft cast grudging glances at the few of them were to go with the troopers.

Separated from the Sentinels, a handful more Inquisitorial soldiers observed the activity, their matte red armor in stark contrast with polished white of the storm troopers. At the sight of their Inquisition brothers and sisters, to the surprise of many, they filed onto the shuttles behind the rest; they act as the Inquisitor’s eyes and ears among the other squads.

Karl approached the stormtrooper commander overseeing the final preparation before taking off. “Commander, there is a possible security compromise aboard this ship. My people will accompany your squads as a precautionary measure. I would also like your squad leaders to relay reports every ten minutes."

A nod was all Lamar could provide.

No matter the separation in organization, the Inquisitors were always looked upon as superiors. The apparent intelligence they carried, even in their demeanor, was almost startling. Such people were hardly ever encountered in the ever active life of a trooper. Instead there was an onslaught of idiocy, garnet by citizens and enemy alike, leaving an almost meaningless feeling to the war.

At times Lamar grumbled at the fact that he participated in such foolishness. He actually was protecting these buffoons from themselves. A stormtrooper's life was a troubled one, with loyalty and robotic motion. So, without a heed to his numerous thoughts, he spun about and barked his orders to his men. In a moment's time the solders latched on their helmets and grabbed the necessary equipment. Trotting into the readied shuttle, they were all very much prepared.

Ready for anything...

But a las, this was only a routine inspection. Still, the troops were to be boarded with Imperial Intelligence. Lamar was always ready to place a good impression. Being off guard for only a blink could lead to demotion, or worst, a meeting with his superiors. Nothing was worst than conference with those blabbering nuna scats. They never had something good to say, even when soldiers were promoted.

Karl paused at the foot of the boarding ramp, eyes tracking the movements of the last troopers filing onto their shuttles. The ignorant captain had no clue what he had stumbled across; Valten could hardly believe it himself. Records in the secure Inquisitorial databanks dated back millennia, laden with forbidden history and knowledge. To the ordinary peons of the galaxy many of those stories would be regarded as myths and fables. But then, myths are always an interpretation of reality aren’t they.

One of those myths stuck out in the Inquisitors mind, only fragments of the story remained. A prophecy here, a warning there, the occasional report of long dead captains and exploration teams. Prophecies of a terrible, ancient horror waiting to awaken to reclaim their place in the galaxy. Patiently sleeping on aeon forgotten dead worlds until it will once again sweep the galaxy in a crimson harvest. Old reports of archeological digs finding strange hieroglyphs on the walls of ancient temples alongside warnings heeding people not to investigate further, lest they awaken what lay inside. Tales of super-advanced warships that could destroy entire fleets.

All of it was meaningless were it not for a few primitive flat-screen recordings, of a ship that had the exact same eerie markings and structures of this ship. Karl doubted the prophecies had any substance to them. Several of the tombs had been found and thoroughly searched, each on of them empty, stripped of anything valuable by treasure hunters and pirates. The mad rantings most likely nothing more than a terrified galaxy reminiscing on a long fallen empire. It wasn’t new, similar things were found dealing with the Sith, the Mandalorians, even the Galactic Empire in less archaic ways.

But for each one, legacies and artifact remained and Karl wanted this for the Inquisition. If even a small part of the myths were true, then this would be a deadly new weapon.

In short order, the shuttles would reach the ship and the Imperials could find a way to bring the vessel back online. Around him, his retinue checked their unique blaster rifles, modified for high power and short range, as they waited for the laser drills to cut an access way.

A creak screeched behind the chatter of soldiers compressed in the shuttle. Girls had come up, and Lamar had evacuated. The female species was a topic he rather dwell on in private, instead of publicly. Forums of discussion with any regular joe would only produce a senseless debate. No one listened or heed his words if they weren't orders. The platoon was an excellent example of sheer stupidity, or at least Major Winfield saw it that way.

The frown hidden under the shell of his helmet grew as the spoke deeper into the numerous abo they had invaded on recent visits to foreign sectors. All of it was exotic and irregular, but time had tested Lamar numerous times and after a quick swallow of his pride he managed to shrug the conversation off.

In time the shuttle would reach the ship and be prepared to allow the onslaught of routine behavior bore the grown children to death. The demise would be sweet, because the pleas for new ideas and things to do would be heard over Lamar's intercom. It always happened that way. Their unimaginative minds always came crawling back for more orders during any mission, especially when it was as clearly boring as this assignment.

Before he could further contemplate, the shuttle's repulsor engine activated and the defiance of gravity agitated the unbalanced crew's bodies. Soon the irregular vibe faded, before the shuttle blasted out of the hangar and rocketed smoothly toward the exotic ship that the squad had been briefed on. Much of it was random, unnecessary information, but hopefully it would come in handy during the labor.

A sigh escaped Lamar's concealed mouth as he awaited the clearance to depart the shuttle into the unique vessel. Hopefully it wouldn't be too dull.

A slight shudder rang through the Spectre as her docking clamps sealed on the derelict hull. A moment later, fusion cutters on the extendable boarding tube flared to life, sparks flying as metal was slowly boiled away.

“That’s strange. What ever this thing is made of it’s stronger than durasteel.” One of Karl’s soldiers sat, operating the controls. A flip of a switch here, a few buttons pressed there and the torches flared brighter. The metal screeched as the as the energy beams cut deeper.

Finally a solid thud sounded as the hull was breach. “There’s enough oxygen that we don’t need breathers. Equalizing pressure….” The women focused intently on her work, as the boarders waited. “…..done.”

Karl hesitated a second longer before giving the order to move. As one, the Inquisitorial soldiers sprang into action. The lead warrior dropped through the hole into the darkness, quietly landing in a crouch, his rifle instantly to his shoulder. Two others followed suite, each covering the other, guns sweeping the area. “Clear.”

Valten and the others dropped, behind him, the female trooper pulled on her helmet, locking the collar at the neck and grabbed her weapon. The Inquisitor moved like a ghost, landing silently, cloak billowing out behind him. “Lights”

Half a dozen helmet mounted glow-rods flashed to light, bathing the area a yellowish hue. “Whoa.” Valten mentally agreed with his soldiers. Walls of solid stone, coated in gothic runes and edifices reminded Karl of an old Sith mausoleum he had once seen. The hallway branched into several alcoves and other paths like ancient catacombs.

The Inquisitor tapped the comm on his head set. You all have your assignments, move out.” Karl gazed at the meticulous design that went into the vessel, wondering what race could have constructed such a strange ship; combining advanced technology with archaic style.

Laughter and humor faded with a quickness as the grouping's eyes were engulf in an utter darkness. Missions rarely carried troopers in the heart of horror unequipped, and this assignment was no different. Before a breathe could fall from the squad, their lights illuminated the deep hallways. Behind the darkened lens numerous orbs in unison maximized. Amazement perched itself on the platoon's crouched frame.

Articulate carvings riddled the walls, swerving about in exotic spirals. Nothing before with held such foreign grace, and nightmarish claims to it's description. Even the beaches of Aldeeran could not formulate a formidable competitor to the extrinsic molds. As the lull dulled the abstract observation and awe dwindled, the platoon's lead stood. A clunk and clink echoed through the hallow corridor, parted with an forced entrance hole. The Major frowned at the obscene disarray of his squad.

"Come on, we need to move out. You heard 'em."

Before the calvary could respond, the corps' head shifted ahead readily. The smoothness of his motions allowed any possible sound faint. Lifting the rifle to his shoulder, the company proceeded down the hall way. During the briefing their task encompassed a strategic position. Hopefully their exploration would lead them to the barracks. There they would sustain their position until the other campaign's were fulfilled.

"Don't play around. We'll get done faster. In and out."

An ominous silence permeated the ship broken only by the muffled padding of armor feet. It was strange, from the outside, the ship seemed bright and dotted with light, but within the stone paths the architects seemed to favor, everything was black. As if the ship were trying to hide from the invaders, or to hide what it contained from them.

Karl had seen many horrors in the past, and committed them as well. He had been hunted by rogue adepts in ruined Sith temples, taken part in the carnage of urban warfare, and felt the kiss of a lightsaber. But he had never felt fear, his training had made sure of that, but here he felt….apprehension, foreboding. The unaccustomed sensation confused him.

He could see it in his soldiers as well; the retinue he had picked were all veterans of the Inquisitoriate and had witnessed the worst of warfare. They hid it well, but Karl could see the occasional twitch here as a distorted sculpture suddenly appeared from the shadows, weapons flitted back and forth as they nervously checked their surroundings.

But those things could wait, they need to get to the bridge and secure it, the quicker this was wrapped up, the less chance there was of setting off any defensive systems or traps. The other squads were due to report in a few minutes anyway, it would do no good if the Inquisitors fell behind the regulars. Darkness swallowed the crimson clad troopers as they moved on.

Darkness slithered itself into the troops from the murky dimness that only allowed askew sculptures to be uncovered by the helmet lights. The heave of the stormtrooper platoon wheezed over the intercoms in pattern as their practiced creep left them snaking through the hallways. In the bleak intent of silence, a lull clank could be heard from the armoring boots beating on the ship's floor. Only the heave, and boots linked the squad back to reality, for the molds were only imagery of sheer death.

All the exotic frames provided an uneasiness in the pit of Lamar's stomach. Even as he strolled cautiously about with an unrivaled smoothness, he scrutinized the halls with a twinge of agony. The fear that engrossed his nerves kept his ears alert, eyes open and other senses prepared.

A twitch would force his blaster down an enemies throat without a thought. Only the keen tutelage of Stormtrooper Training could carve instincts so well, but the thought left the young soldier's mind drained.

Finally he returned to reality as his foot pressed against the cold floor. There was something to be done before the tampered with the recently found door.

Lifting his finger to his head, and carbine to his shoulder, he opened the comm. link back to head of the operation. An update was in need.

"JK-016, reporting a door entrance from dissent of western whole. Inspection requested.

Over and out."

Explicator Riggenson, trudged forward with the squad of stormtroopers he was supposed to be monitoring. They had come out in one of the many identical hallways on the dorsal section of the landing zone. Prior to landing the squad had been laced with pointless banter, but now the stood silent, flashlights scanning over the odd chamber they had found.

Several hallways joined together to form a half sphere. Between each of the entrances, a monolithic obsidian statue, carved directly into the walls, loomed over head. Unlike the other obscure figures in the catacombs, intricate detail went into each sentinel. Flawless folds of elongated robes flowed off the larger than life humanoid shapes that seemed to float near the ceilings. Riggenson would have assumed that the shapes were humans were it not for alien features covering them; demonic horns grew off one, another’s features were so stretched and distorted that it seemed like a dried of corpse, a third sported frail looking fingers that ended in meter long claws on arms that reached over two of the portals, as if it were guarding the doors.

If the chamber could be said to have a ‘front’, it would have to be the largest and most imposing figure. Even with Riggenson’s limited connection to the force, he felt malice tangibly dripping off of it. A vision flashed in his mind as he gazed into its sunken eyes. Swathed in blackened, rotted robes, it pushed itself clear of the tomb, the solid stone reshaping itself in a swirling black shroud. Riggenson had a barely perceived glimpse of a gaunt, mouldering face with twin pits of yellow glowing from within. There was…insanity in those eyes…a raging, unquenchable thirst for suffering in those eyes. A pair of rotted bandage-swathed arms were all the penetrated the dark cloak shrouding it. One limb ended in lone, dirt encrusted talons, the other in what appeared to be a huge blade of darkness, angled like a vast scythe.

Riggenson snapped out of the vision, sweat drenching his face. This place had to be the personal ship of an ancient Sith lord. It was the only way to explain the connection he felt. And this…statue…had to be built in his likeness by underlings, probably regarding him as a god.

“We’ve found something as well, Inquisitor. I think it’s an altar of sorts; the place stinks of the darkside. This entire ship might be a temple or something. It would explain all of the stone.”

Another voice broke the comm; he couldn’t tell if was one of the stormtroopers or one of the Inquisitorial agents. “Why bring the stone at all? Look closer at the corners and floors. You can see metal poking through all over.”

The voice of Inquisitor Valten interrupted any others that would have spoken, his voice going through strong and determined. “Focus on our objectives, we can ask questions later. JK-016, proceed with caution. Explicator Riggenson, is there a possibility of force-traps here.”

Riggenson stared up at the figure glaring down at him. In an instant he realized he had seen it before, it many places. It bore the exact same semblances of the image of death that almost every race held, a reaper of souls. He shivered.

“I don’t think so, it’s just a feeling.”

Karl Valten's orders sent a shockwave through the troops as their formation wedged into a ready stance. Rolling into a circle about the door, their blasters aimed, the awaited the designated person to open the ominous room. Albeit the mission required routine inspection of the ship, the darkness which ran over the ship provided an edge that forced all of the men into anxiety. Some amidst the group were uneasy, and it showed. The light rattle of their hands left the carbines and rifles shaking under their grasp.

Sighs of relief hissed over the intercom ever so often. Lamar had become expected of such behavior from his troopers. Anxious feelings always brought out the best of his platoons in the past, despite the rather insignificant commission he had been sent on. Reconnaissance was not exactly the most nerve-ending position amidst the numerous task on the list of the Imperial military duties.

However this situation was different, and it showed in the cautious soft steps the squadron made as the door slowly opened. Lamar sat amidst the closing circle, splashed with the pure light of the helm's headset. The young Major's face distorted as the horrid smell of the opening room revealed itself. A stench flushed the ventilation of the trooper's helmets and coughs were the only response.

Floods of distortion thwarted the team's face, but their eyes stayed keen through the darkened lens of the armoring heads. Wheezes and cough could not stop this troop from acting upon their fright.

Engulfed in the steady orders of their squad leader, the herd awaited their king to motion. After one last cough, Lamar finally lifted the hand for forward movement. Swiftly the crew maneuvered at the rear, following the Major into his crouch and creep into the foreign location. Serpent artifacts impressed the cool floor, illuminated by the head lights. Molds of sickened figures painted the surface around the exotic species molded from an unusual material. All of it was too foreign for Lamar's common eyes, and he was forced into a blink.

Finally reopening his eyes, he switched his head readily over. The feel of another pressed into his senses. Behind him sat the unknowing comrades, ready for the next commanded move. However, Lamar's mind was elsewhere, but he still cared for his fellow soldier.

"Be prepared for anything," he whispered over the intercom as he proceeded with further caution. Every step was soft and graceful like a thief.

A tainted ship? It was a possibility, but highly unlikely, if the stories were correct this vessel would outdate the Old Republic! What ever Riggenson had felt went deeper than the force. Normally Karl would have directed his attention to these mysterious. He had a passion for ancient riddle, but with a limited number of troops and resources taking the ships vital stations was key.

Strange though, Karl could sense the urgency racing through his troops his troop’s veins. A strange thing considering the empty ship. The Inquisitor was unsettled to note that the same apprehension increasingly poured into his soul.

Still, the Inquisitorial squad pushed on, moving along at a half sprint. Deeper and deeper towards the base of the main pyramidal structure. Or so they hoped.
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Riggenson had followed the stormtroopers through the archway under imposing icon of death. If anything, the air seemed to get colder and heavier to farther down the corridor. He hoped that it was his imagination.

So distracted was he that he didn’t notice the line stop in front of him and he walked into the trooper in front of him, nearly sending half the squad falling down the steep stairway that suddenly disappeared into a murky abyss at their feet. A string of yells and insults floated across the squad channels.

The Explicator had the barest moment to feel shame in embarrassing the Inquisitoriate so easily, but he earnestly brushed it away. He had to be the one in control.

“What do you have sergeant.” The squad leader crouched at the top, gloved hand manually switching between optical modes on his helmet. “Visibility zero, Infrared is dark, even the electromag isn’t picking up anything.”

Riggenson shouldered his way to the front and crouching next to the sergeant. A frown creased his face as he tried futiley tried to peer through the black haze.

“Alright descend in pairs and keep your line of fire cle…..what the…..? A skittering sound echoed up the stair well. In an instant, all of the soldiers had rifles raised. The tension could have been cut with a knife as the group nervously kept their fingers on their triggers.

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“Got something on visuals up ahead.” Indeed, ahead of Karl and his group, the stone took on a sickly green tinge, from a lightsource not much farther ahead.

Sunk in the exotic area, the squad and Lamar sped in a crouch through the passageway. The room had led into a depth that could not be easily salvage with their advance technology. All of the readings came to a zero, and only the temperature was on display. Beside the squad, there was no sign of life in the barren hold.

Even as the steps sent dust into the sky underneath the squad's ever moving feet, there was very little animated about the hallway. After the initial entrance the unique art across the wall, and molded critters were repetitive. It began more an annoyance than a horrific display. Lamar still was dazzled by it, though, while his crew's insults and jokes sprung up from a muse through the squad's channel.

A few giggles ravaged Lamar's ears at a lull, but the silent of his step soon came to a slow. Another door was exposed to the left by the switching of his headlights.

"Another one," someone whispered, but the platoon leader did not reply. Instead, his mind juggled the various ideas. Anguish flung himself in Major Winfield's precognition. There was a sure problem in the next move, whether it'd be a trap or not. Nothing would come good of any more maneuvers, but the team had orders.

And Stormtroopers followed commands.

"Come on." Lamar's words ran deep, though toned with a casual nature. Inside he was troubled by the moment, and with bravery disallowed the others to drift forward. He was the lead to the campaign, and by his own ideals was to go first.

Heading ahead, the small door was opened and the foreign sounds boomed over the newly acquainted quarters.

And so the troubles would began... Lamar thought, his hand lifting the rifle.

“What do you think that was?"

"I don’t know, I can’t see anything. Order’s, Sergeant?"

"Engines are that way, so we’re moving out. Delta formation, Hrrask, your on point"…."Point? We’re in a frelling hallway where do you want me to go."……

…."Quit your whining and get down there.….Frak that, go down yourself, sarge."

"If you don’t………."

"You two shut up and get out of my way, I’m taking over the squad."

"Bu…" …*click*..."You have a problem with that?"…."N..no, not at all."…".Good choice..now move”

Valten rolled his eyes; the stormies were really starting to get on his nerves. At least Riggenson had stepped to stop the headache inducing bickering from that squad. Maybe they’d get something done in decent time, if not; Riggenson would have to be more persuasive.

But his attention was needed elsewhere at the moment. The Inquisitor’s group rounded another corner and the black melted away, bathing everything in a luminescent emerald. Footsteps became less muffled and reverberated down the corridor. Instead of the hazy musk of an old cellar, the air became a crisp chill. The sudden change in atmosphere brought the squad to a cautious crawl.

"Explicator, I have something over here."….."What is it…. a droid?"

"Well that explains the scratching sound. Kind of looks like a small beetle, has to be a maintenance droid."….Whoa, there’s more of the suckers down there"

Karl dropped to the rear of the group as he listened in to the comm chatter; he trusted that his squad could deal scouting forward. Ahead, an illuminated archway steadily grew closer. Transparent tubes filled with crackling green lightning emerged from the floor and trailed towards the exit. One of the troopers crouched down and ran a scanner over the phenomenon.

“I haven’t seen technology like this before. Could be a power conduit..or just a light panel; I don’t have clue.”

The Inquisitor motions his soldiers forward, it wouldn’t do any good to gawk at every strange thing they met, he was too busy speaking with Riggenson, anyway.

“Explicator, be careful, don’t interfere with anything those droids are doing.”

Whine creaked from the door's open, but Lamar did not notice. Instead his eyes converted into a sharpened iris, prepped for the pierce through the eternal darkness. Gloom crept from the unseen, leaping through the lens of the trooper's helmet. Despite the terrorizing prowess herald by the Stormtrooper armor, the squad swelled with a cower. Before the onslaught of angst sat an uneasy, yet plain figure.

Behind a whimper fizzled into a murmur as a tremor rattled the floor. Bodies did not shake, even minute. Yet the quake resonated within the squad. Distress despoil the fleet, forming living corpses. Demise rose from the depths of the squad's mind, precognition playing the support to the growing infrastructure of doom.

Promise of volatile darkness could easily captured the dull imagination, and it was so for the team. A single sigh exerted all such restraint in Lamar, but the squad could not do it with such ease. Although his puppets could be harpooned with a command, they still were not instilled with sense.

"Mind over matter. Move out..." And the squad stepped in.

Riggenson tread forward as lightly as his feet would take him. From the darkness all around him came the clawing sounds of the tiny spider-like constructs. Every now and then on of them would be highlighted by a glowrod before it either skittered off like a frightened cockroach or soared away on some sort of micro-repulsor.

Silence killed the soul, it brought on unbidden phantoms and demons. The mind would begin playing games on you, making you hear things buried in an avalanche of old memories, bring on sounds of an empty conscious. But, now the sound was overwhelming, the walls seemed to shrink in and suffocate in a sea of dissonance.

But still the squad moved on, compelled by a will that was not their own. A single trooper brought his helmet-lamp to bear on a particular cluster of the things. The beam washed over a structure set into the walls swarming with droids. A quintet of scarabs floated in the air, carrying a slab of rune inscribed stone. More clambered on the walls of a half-cylinder carved into the wall around a chipped area. Various cables ran from a suspended hub slightly higher than head level along the edges of the hollow where even more creatures cut and welded pieces back together.

The trooper daringly moved around human sized alcove, treading carefully as not to step on any of the droids. “Looks like a busted bacta tank”

Hisssssss…….CLANG “Whoa” In the instant the trooper spoke, the droids halted their repairs and whirled around while the airborne constructs let their heavy burden crash to the floor. A tink, tink, tink sounded as many more dropped to the ground from unseen nooks.

Chatter exploded over the comm system as the squad nervously inched backwards. An unsettling sensation smashed into Riggenson’s force attuned mind. A stirring feeling, as if something deep inside the ship were slowly waking from a deep, aeon long slumber.
And it was…..angry. Through stone and steel, he felt turn its senses on him. Its invisible eyes burned over him, and it laughed at his impudence

For the first time in his service to the Inquisitoriate, Explicator Riggenson’s resolve was broken, the haunting laugh shattering his indoctrinated willpower. With a yell, Riggenson squeezed down on his rifle’s firing stud. Crimson lances sprayed out, shattering scarabs into pieces even as the things surged toward the squad.

The Explicator saw everything unfold from a distance as the troopers joined in. He barely reacted as the lone troop was overrun and turn to shreds by hundreds of razor-sharp claws. Through everything he felt the presence call out. A cry for it’s servants to awaken and destroy those who would dare invade its home.

Only the glowing of the helm's lights kept the room dim in it's imminent darkness. Silence pester the squad as it crept easily about, avoiding possible pitfalls. The steady glare of the helm's lights sprayed over the scenery, occasionally focusing on the floor at unsure mishaps. Stumbles and shambles stagger the grouping about, but it's lead kept on the move. Not a trip or fall plaster him into an embarrassing maneuver. Even when the floor before him supplied a mistake, his smooth motions kept him at bay and above ground.

Breathe scamper over the comm channels amidst the group, and eased the lull into an introspective survey. The abscence of word, replaced by the evidence of life defined the necessary momentum to survive in the tarnished grounds. Every wall detailed an enclave or antique carving as before, but it grew gruesome as they tread forth. Figures of war scaled the walls, blood splatter about and engrossed in coating of color. Crimson, black, yellow scribed over and the chills of the engraved turmoil tatter the platoons step more so than the mysterious floor.

A sigh gave Lamar an ease. Behind the lens of his helmet his eyes flutter in frustration. Many times before he had scavenged and slither through holds in hope to find or destroy, but this was lengthy. Time and time again their eyes deceived the grouping into intrigue, but only found nothingness to award their curiosity. Yet in all the pleasantries of boredom still laid the latent gloom of the setting. There was no insurance in movements, of breath. Every ward, command and shift in step could be the last.

"Here."

The voice of Private Jinns squeaked over the intercom, thrusting through the silence. The sudden pierce of sound left a jolt traveling at lightspeed through the fleet's body until their weaponry was raised for assault. There wasn't a possible foe in sight, and the only disturbance was Jinns. Initially the team turned smoothly about in response, their blasters still pointed forward.

Jinns could only stand there motionless, fear and anguish drizzled over his hidden frame. The shimmer of the white Stormtrooper guise his dismay. Soon the rifles and carbine drooped down to ease his assumed abhorrence and awaited his response.

"Here is another door. There are weird etch imprinted into it too."

Lamar's body replied without heed. Sent like a dagger from the rear of the crowd, he sent his blaster above and then quickly back down as he came to the door's entrance. Sharpened eyes became all the more peko-peko like as he gazed deeply into the wall. The young Major's mind whisper of danger, but his body screamed onward. Lamar was of sound, so the loudest in the bout won.

"Open the door Private," and without hesitation the team continued. Hopefully the foreign etch along the door's wall was their point of reconnaissance. Otherwise it would just be another faulty, unimportant room to their mission. All of it was becoming a bore.

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Clamor collapsed into the dim room. A single light dangled amidst the pressured fiery or darkness, swallowing the world into a carcas. Cascaded in mystic, the only life was sound that swung through with the objective of chaos. Astounded by sound, the team sat motionless at the door, fear managing to paralyze them in place as they awaited a vision. There hard to be a source...

And it showed. The hardened shell of the Stormtrooper armor thrashed in pieces as a claw exposed itself to the light of Private Jinns' helm. Breathing no longer patterned the intercom. Only warcries and a last scream of death.

Honor had been thrown to the shell of fury. Lamar took it in, delving deep into the murk about, feeding off it as his blaster exhaled the breathe of demise. Bolts splashed over the oncoming figure.

Solid obsidian segments form an impenetrable egress and for a moment Karl hesitates. Shuffling, creeping bodies maneuver around him, searching for any seem allowing passage beyond. But the Inquisitor stays routed, fixated upon ghostly imagery curving up into the abyss. Crackling glare covers embossed figures in a protracted gloom. Hundreds…thousands…of faceless beings flee before a shrouded army. Nigh formless beings unleash fire and lightning into unfortunates, stripping to nothingness. A blazing sky rains down immense monuments wreathed in arcane power. Looming above all floats a robed figure reaching out with skeletal fingers as the souls of its victims pull closer.

His eyes peered into the sunken pits of the unmerciful god when the cries erupted in his headset. Inquisitors hear the same piercing scream many times tearing from the throats of their own prey. Rarely do they hear that shrill wail from one of their own. Like children looking to a mother’s reassurance, Valten’s soldiers turned to him.

Unfeeling and unyielding their leader reached towards his ear and in one remorseless motion, shut out the terror. A sharp sigh reverberated across the now silent foyer. The hilt of a shimmering blade repelling the unholy jade hue now clutched in a gloved hand. Cold orbs regarded fearful soldiers and an emotionless voice breaks the still echoing ring.

“Those that falter in service to the Emperor are traitors to the cause.” He looked at each of them, daring anyone to lose their resolve. Riggenson had failed, and the Inquisitoriate did not accept failure, he would face his trials alone. “Break it down”

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Obsidian shattered into dust and spread like fog. Flickering emerald light rendered helm-lights useless, overwhelming tiny specks. Low humming crescendos from within tubes stretching endlessly into the apex far above. The crimson-encased platoon surged through the gap as ghosts in the haze.

An infinite vault stretched into the distance, rimmed by dozens of cylindrical sarcophagi. An echoing call washed over him and for an instant, Karl experienced what had assailed Explicator Riggenson. But it affected him nought, his mind steeled against the onslaught.

Motion stirred in the dusty tombs, long fingers reached from the chambers, gripping rounded edges. A skeletal form hauled itself out of sleep and a featureless skull turned towards them. Darkened eyes flashed to a soulless beryl light. Karl could sense his squad losing its moral when the being brought to bear its weapon. Crackling lightning arced from a scythed frame, in slow motion the alien energy stripped away the armor of an unfortunate soldier, flaying skin from muscle, muscle from bone, until not even a skeleton remained.

Karl strode forward, blade flashing in the unsteady light.

“The Emperor’s servants will not yield; we will not bow to his foes. We shall not fear…”

A clamor arose among the troops gathered as they citied part the old battle cry. The Inquisitor wore a perverse grin. In the face of despair, faith and blind fury became more powerful than discipline. His troops moved with him wielding blade and gun as more constructs rose from their cells.

“…For We Are Fear Incarnate