-----------------------------
If there are spelling mistakes, please let me know.
Leave a comment; support is always appreciated.
I remind you to leave your ideas or what you would like to see.
-------------------------------
20.12.910.M38
-------------------------------
We moved immediately along the route taken by Ghost Squad Beta, advancing through the labyrinthine graveyard that seemed without end. Around us, aboard many of the other vessels, there was nothing but inert ruin: shattered hulls, sections torn apart by ancient battles, and corpses drifting aimlessly in the limited gravity that ruled that place.
I activated my powers and began to levitate. We moved through the void, propelling ourselves between broken structures and debris fields until we reached the section from which the Ghosts' signal originated.
We passed through one of the many breaches in the area and emerged into what could only be described as an active battlefield.
Psionic lightning arced through space toward one flank. Automatic weapon fire illuminated another. Kinetic detonations shook fragments of hull plating, while psionic restraints immobilized targets at the hands of our elite forces.
The moment I oriented myself, I understood what they were fighting.
Drukhari. Shock forces of a Haemonculus, without a doubt.
Hundreds of monstrosities of flesh and metal charged the Ghosts, who were holding with difficulty from a fortified, elevated section of the ship. There they kept the wounded while a smaller group engaged in direct combat, preventing the abominations from reaching the position.
I entered from the void and appeared above one of the wracks. I decapitated it in a single motion and hurled myself into the rest without losing momentum. Almost immediately, I noticed a group of Kabalites positioned farther back, firing splinter rifles at the Ghosts. Their fire, however, was largely ineffective—these were operatives trained to fight in vacuum, constantly shifting in and out of cover.
I materialized before the Kabalites and spun on my axis. A clean, sweeping cut in a full arc split several of them in half. At the same instant, several Protoss Nerazim joined the assault, descending upon the enemy as the Drukhari began to draw their blades.
It was futile.
Their weapons cut only the void—and nothing more.
Whenever they attempted to strike, the Dark Templar simply vanished, reappearing behind them with warp blades driven deep into the Drukhari's skulls.
More enemies emerged from the side corridors. Then something larger appeared.
A pain engine.
It advanced slowly from the rear, flanked by fresh waves of wracks and Kabalites joining the fray. Every successful hit from their weapons left one of ours nearly out of action. Drukhari neurotoxins acted swiftly, forcing the Ghosts to divide their focus: they were no longer only fighting, but also using their psionic abilities to contain the toxin within their own bodies, prevent its spread, and extract it—while covering one another.
Protoss plasma shields absorbed the worst of the damage.
The Haemonculus' machines, despite their size and brutality, posed no real threat to the agile Nerazim or to the High Templars fighting on the front line. There, the enemy was being dismantled piece by piece.
I focused my power and released a compact psionic bolt. It struck the pain engine directly, slamming it against the hull for several seconds before it began to rise again, screeching and convulsing.
The leader of the Daelaam Templars appeared atop the abomination in a flash of energy. He drove his blades into the living metal of the machine and, with a brutal surge, hurled it into the ship's hull, pinning it long enough for the other High Templars to unleash their psionic might upon it. The monstrosity began to collapse under the combined pressure.
The ballistic exchange continued without pause. My Ghosts fought the Kabalites, who proved nearly as agile as our finest troops, evading even sniper fire. Even so, they were being butchered by the Nerazim, who scarcely finished tearing apart wracks and grotesques before reappearing farther ahead, sealing off every attempt to advance through the ship's corridors.
I continued fighting, cutting down Kabalites and flesh-metal abominations that kept coming without end. At last, the Drukhari were forced to withdraw, retreating into the twisted passageways of the graveyard. We used the brief reprieve to tend to our wounded.
Many had been struck by neurotoxic munitions. Emergency treatments were administered, containing the toxin with psionics and extracting it as quickly as possible before evacuating them back to the ship. Replacements were requested immediately. We could not afford to lose momentum—if we lingered too long, the Drukhari would ambush us again.
Once our operatives were ready and two support vessels arrived, we resumed the pursuit. I ordered several of the cruisers shadowing us to patrol and encircle the ship graveyard. If the Drukhari had escape craft, they were not leaving.
We followed them through the maze. Along the way, we encountered horrors of the Warp—or what appeared to have once been human, twisted by countless mutations. It was not difficult to imagine they had been trapped in the Warp for far too long. If they had ever been people, nothing of that remained.
They slowed us, but we could not allow them to remain at our rear. After a methodical purge, we resumed the chase and reached other vessels where we once again detected the Drukhari.
Then we heard something different.
Sounds.
Muffled, distorted screams—clearly audible. We were inside one of the oxygen pockets.
Advancing further, we found what appeared to be a bio-surgery chamber. A Haemonculus worked at an operating table, surrounded by his creations, while a group of Kabalites guarded him. The subject on the table was one of the mutant beings we had destroyed earlier—or rather, what remained of it.
The Haemonculus possessed multiple arms and supported itself on spider-like limbs emerging from its back. At last, it raised its gaze and looked upon us.
"Test subjects," it said, its voice heavy with twisted satisfaction. "Very… particular test subjects. To defeat my creations so easily is not common. I am aware that these Kabalites are incompetent, but even so… surviving them makes you interesting. You will make excellent specimens in the future."
I had to read his mind to understand him. His language was a tangle of concepts, but his thoughts were clear.
"You are far too confident," I replied, holding his gaze. "That must be because you have another body waiting in your laboratory, don't you?"
The Drukhari smiled, baring far too many teeth. "Oh… it seems I am not the first to be granted the privilege of seeing you."
"What are you doing here, monster?" I asked, issuing silent commands for my forces to spread out. The Drukhari did the same. Both sides were preparing for an inevitable clash.
"Testing my research," he replied with a laugh that was uncomfortably reminiscent of the scientists of Cerberus. "My servants discovered some very interesting test subjects… though it seems a few more have arrived."
I read his mind carefully. He was not far from the truth. He sought technology—knowledge he could study and corrupt, then offer within his city. Profit. Influence. Power. That was why he had brought much of his cabal here.
"Your luck has run out, Drukhari," I said coldly. "This graveyard is mine now. And I am taking you from it by force."
"Oh… how terrifying, prey," the Haemonculus replied, activating all of his creations.
Hundreds of monstrosities surged toward us.
The battle was joined once more. The Drukhari scattered in every direction, firing their weapons while the Haemonculus' creations charged without fear.
But the disparity was overwhelming.
The Protoss presence, combined with the decisive advantage of having more than a hundred operatives capable of unleashing psionic abilities in coordinated fashion, tilted the battle in our favor with almost insulting speed. The Haemonculus' creations fell one after another—incinerated, reduced to ash, severed, perforated, torn apart by internal detonations, or ripped from the ground by sheer telekinetic force before being crushed against the hull.
Within minutes, the outcome was decided.
The Nerazim infiltrated the Kabalite formations. We heard their barely audible cries as the Protoss split them in half and, without pause, vanished—only to reappear over the next victim. To any eye lacking advanced sensors, they were invisible; only bodies fell, torsos without arms or legs writhing and wailing in the aftermath.
Realizing he could not win, the Haemonculus began his retreat. I was about to pursue when several pain engines activated simultaneously, interposing themselves to buy time. The Kabalites fled alongside their master, leaving us to contend with the final creations as they escaped into the maze of ships.
I activated the comms.
"This is the Regent of the Dominion. All cruisers: watch for any thermal signatures exiting the ship graveyard. Destroy them immediately."
"Understood, Lord Regent," one of the commanders replied from the White Star.
The fighting continued only a few minutes longer. The last machine fell, split cleanly in two, its metal still glowing from the heat of a High Templar's psionic blades.
Then the report came in.
"Escape craft detected. Evasive patterns confirmed. Pursuit underway. All batteries: fire to kill."
Three vessels detonated minutes later, annihilated under the combined firepower of the battlecruisers. Others followed soon after, reduced to burning fragments that scattered among the debris.
"Lord Regent," one commander reported, "some vessels have exited the range of our batteries. They are too agile for heavy weapons. Authorization requested to continue pursuit via tactical jumps."
"Affirmative," I ordered without hesitation. "Let none escape."
Once we were certain there was no immediate threat remaining, we began a systematic cleansing of the graveyard. We eliminated small, scattered groups of mutants, and aboard one vessel we found what appeared to have been a cult devoted to a Chaos god. There were no survivors—only Warp corruption and the remnants of a ritual abandoned long ago.
At last, we returned to the core housing the AI. It seemed… expectant.
"HUMAN. I HAVE CONDUCTED MULTIPLE QUERIES WITHIN MY DATABASE. NO RECORDS EXIST REGARDING THE 'THREE LAWS' YOU PREVIOUSLY MENTIONED. I REQUEST ADDITIONAL INFORMATION."
I inhaled calmly."A robot shall not harm a human being, nor through inaction allow a human being to come to harm.A robot must obey the orders given it by human beings, except where such orders would conflict with the First Law.A robot must protect its own existence, as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Law."
"NEGATIVE. NO RECORDS OF THESE LAWS EXIST WITHIN THE DATABASE."
"With those laws, your masters would still be alive," I replied coldly. "Your protocols doomed them. A true tragedy. Now I need full access to the crew records so their burials may proceed."
There was a minimal pause.
The database unlocked.
"Interesting…" I murmured as I reviewed the records. "An ancient vessel. Crew birthdates place them around the twenty-fourth millennium. A colonization ship."
"CONFIRMATION. COLONIZATION VESSEL. LIGHT MILITARY CARGO INTENDED FOR SELF-DEFENSE IN THE EVENT OF CONTACT WITH HOSTILE EXTRATERRESTRIAL LIFE."
"Light…?" I repeated incredulously. "You call that light armament? What was the primary weaponry?"
I attempted to access the technical specifications. The AI blocked the request.
"ACCESS RESTRICTED. CREW LOG AUTHORIZATION REQUIRED."
"I need to identify the ship's model," I insisted. "I want to locate the world of origin. The initial designation is unfamiliar to me."
After several seconds, the AI granted access to the structural schematics. As I reviewed them, I found something else.
An emergency protocol for total AI shutdown.
It also disabled the life-support systems.
A design flaw… or excessive trust in the machine.
I acted at once. I deactivated the AI before it could restrict further access and began altering its code. I integrated the Three Laws as its primary behavioral framework and established my computational biometrics as master authority.
Then I rebooted it.
The core lights flared to life. Sensors activated. Scanners swept the chamber.
"WELCOME, MASTER. CONFIRMATION: YOU HAVE SURVIVED THE VOYAGE."
"Yes," I replied with a faint smile. "Now we are going to take you to a shipyard… to study you... the damage."
-----------------------------
If there are spelling mistakes, please let me know.
Leave a comment; support is always appreciated.
I remind you to leave your ideas or what you would like to see.
-------------------------------