Talon - A Dark Falcons Tale

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Talon - A Dark Falcons Tale

Post by Rayo Azul » Wed Sep 09, 2009 5:00 pm

I seem to have a slight block, so I've jumped the story forward a little, four or five generstions to be exact :lol:

This is the story of one Dark Falcon, one ship and their adventures.

The muse struck...what can I say?

Cheers

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Post by Rayo Azul » Wed Sep 09, 2009 5:02 pm

Prologue


Goliath System
Deep Periphery
Dark Falcons Protectorate, 20th June 3157



Four ships shimmered into real space. They were neither welcome nor expected. Other craft disengaged from docking rings, in turn spitting forth smaller vessels. It was though some strange and ripened fruit had burst open, flinging its malevolent seeds haphazardly into the vacuum.

Soon, fighters formed into wings, guiding larger transports towards the planet below. Two cruisers appeared from behind the planet, missile tubes launching silvery death towards the mute invaders. There was little direct response, apart from an increase in speed, or so it appeared.

Missiles began to explode, well short of their targets. Behind them, the approaching fleet opened fan-like allowing the largest, a Battleship, to shoulder through. From its prow missile batteries fired at an astonishing rate. The first volley over, it swung ponderously, more of its weapons discharging as they bore onto their target. These projectiles flashed towards their prey at twice the expected speed, consuming their own fuel in their fury.

The cruisers’ anti-missile defence roared into ineffectual life, the missiles’ speed foxing their automated systems. Fighters now screamed to life, following the initial barrage and homing in on their targets.

In slow and awful motion the cruisers received hits. Metal blew into nothingness, atmosphere vented in balls of fire and crewmen screamed hoarsely for aid. None came. Relentlessly, the fighters continued the attack, snapping and snarling like a pack of hungry dogs around a cornered bear. Their short range missiles ripped through weakened defences, energy weapons adding to already fatal damage.

Fighters launched from the cruisers fought desperately, but were outgunned and outmanoeuvred. Whatever their desperate situation they did not retreat, instead flying directly into the grinning teeth of the enemy.
It was soon over; all that was left of the protective craft were two rent and torn hull sections. Pieces span slowly away into the blackness, imbued with their own momentum by the ferocity of the battle.

The unknown fleet reformed, the battleship once more shrouded by its fawning fleet. Together they flew on towards the now undefended planet. They had a job to do.

On his flagship, the Fleet Commander sneered in derision.

“So much,” he said spitting in scorn, “for the Dark Falcons.”

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Post by Rayo Azul » Wed Sep 09, 2009 5:06 pm

Chapter One


Geosynchronous Orbit
Winfield
Dark Falcons Protectorate, 30th June 3157


Cadet Seamus McVay stared at the ship as it rolled into view. The shuttle in which he had made the short transit from Winfield was making its final manoeuvres. He had recently graduated from the Academy and had been posted to the Talon. She was a sleek craft, every fibre of her being screaming her warlike nature. “A Vincent Class Corvette,” he breathed to himself as he drank in her lines.

At 412,000 tons she was large for a corvette. She carried ten fighters and four shuttles, in one of which he was now making his approach. Greedily he watched her autocannons spring into focus and remembered that she also carried ten Barracuda missiles. This was a fighting ship.

Seamus had been overjoyed when he had been passed his orders; never had he expected to win such a prize. His family, true, claimed a lineage straight back to the Founding of the Dark Falcons, but that was over five generations ago. His relative had then been a Tech who had served with the first Khan, but since then family members had rarely distinguished themselves. He was the first to enter the Navy, his father even now no doubt, rueing his choice.

As they slid into the landing bay, he saw the other shuttles at rest, and realised that all was ready for departure. He was the last aboard. Frantic activity drew his attention, as the airlock cycled open and he was all but dragged clear. A burly soldier looked him up and down disdainfully, before pushing him towards a lighted hatchway.

The cadet dug his heels in and as the man moved to push him aside, Seamus grabbed his hand, twisting it and forcing the soldier to the floor.

“Name?” he asked conversationally as he applied pressure.

“Barnes...”

Seamus twisted again.

“...Sir!”

“Good,” said Seamus, letting him up, “I always find polite conversation beneficial.”

Free once more, Barnes swung his fist at the impudent cadet. Tradition shouted for him to put the young master in his place.

A happy grin plastered across his face, Seamus ducked underneath the flailing arm, the heel of his palm striking Barnes under his jaw. There was the clack of teeth, another grunt of pain as Seamus followed the blow up with a punch to the solar plexus and a cry of surprise as Barnes hit the floor.

Still smiling, Seamus offered his hand to the thoroughly chagrined man.

“Shall we start again?” he asked as Barnes took the proffered hand, “And this time, you can show me where I can report to the Captain.”

*

Daylon Barnes was Navy through and through. He was a big man; some of his mates claimed his mother had slept with an Elemental. They never said it to his face though. If questioned, he would have expressed an opinion over little, apart from his love of fighting, and of course the Navy itself.

From his position on the floor, he looked up at the slight figure of the cadet in astonishment. He had fought many, both within and out of the Circle of Equals, but had never been so easily put on the floor. Belligerent by nature, his first reaction was to leap up and smash his fist into the grinning face. Something stopped him. A kind of personal revelation swept over him. The cold light of pure confidence shone from the youth’s face. There was absolutely no doubt there.

Surprising even himself, Barnes took the hand and then picked up the cadet’s bag from the floor from where it had fallen.

“Please follow me, Sir,” he said meekly, his fierce look quailing the smirks of his companions.

Seamus waited for him to pass, and then with his hands in his pockets, began to whistle a merry tune.

*

Mr McVay. Thank you so much for joining us.”

The grin had still not left Seamus’ face as he stood now to attention.

“Sir!” he replied, there was nothing else to say.

“How,” continued the Captain, “a mediocre cadet, such as you, could be posted to such a fine ship, is beyond me.”

No doubt, thought Seamus, a lot is beyond you Captain. Instead of speaking though, he handed his papers over. The Captain’s face changed, anger giving way to chagrin. Such orders were always sealed, so Seamus was totally ignorant of the contents. Whatever was in there, had certainly had an effect.

“Your name is McVay...” he began and Seamus nodded, “but your full name is Seamus Elias McVay.”

A gasp from behind him indicated that Barnes had followed unbidden.

“That is correct, Sir,” responded Seamus.

“A tainted name...”

The Captain stopped, shocked at the sudden fear which overwhelmed him. He had been staring into the Cadet’s eyes. They were a grey-green, which had suddenly turned ice. Captain Ewan Dawson felt the cold touch of death drape a companiable arm over his shoulder.

Sorry ...Sir?”

Dawson gulped and folded the orders, for the first time noticing Barnes. He took out his anger on the big man, who shrugged it off diffidently.

“You there! What do you think you are doing? Get off my bridge!”

Barnes saluted lazily and moved to the adjoining corridor where he would wait for the Cadet. Mad Elias. No frakking wonder the Cadet had downed him. Just wait until he told his mates!

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Post by MechRat » Wed Sep 09, 2009 9:32 pm

Intriguing beginning... :o

"Mad" Elias? A "tainted name"?

I am very curious to find out why.
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Post by Grunt213 » Wed Sep 09, 2009 11:01 pm

MechRat wrote:Intriguing beginning... :o

"Mad" Elias? A "tainted name"?

I am very curious to find out why.
Prob spent too much time with Jax.
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Post by MechRat » Thu Sep 10, 2009 8:08 am

I'm not sure about that. Jax may be crazy, but he is honorable in the Dark Falcon manner.
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Post by Rayo Azul » Thu Sep 10, 2009 1:01 pm

Sorry, but you'll just have to wait to find out :twisted:

Cheers

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Post by Rayo Azul » Thu Sep 10, 2009 2:19 pm

Chapter Two

Geosynchronous Orbit
Winfield
Dark Falcons Protectorate, 30th June 3157


The room, if that was what it could be called, to which Seamus was shown would have made his room in the barracks on Winfield look luxurious. It contained a cot and footlocker. With a grin, the cadet dumped his bag on the sleeping place and sighed. What did it matter? He was finally on a real warship.

Alarms sounded and the countdown given for engagement of the jump drives. Well, the Captain had complained about Seamus’ tardiness. Still though, he had been assigned no duties and dismissed perfunctorily.

There was a knock at the door, and when he opened it, Seamus saw the rating, Barnes, waiting for him.

“Yes?”

“Your muster station, sir,” began the large man, “I checked up on it. You’re with my lads on the boat deck.”

“Your lads?” asked Seamus, amused at the change in Barnes.

“Yes, Sir. Good bunch…well, different you might say, Sir.”

“Aah,” said Seamus knowingly, no doubt troublemakers and malcontents, if his first meeting with Barnes had been anything to go by.

“Don´t you worry, Sir. I’ve already had a word with the boys. They won’t give you any trouble.”

Seamus clapped Barnes affectionately on the shoulder. His was, no matter how ugly, the only friendly face on the Talon.

“Lead on…” he said, closing the door to his cell behind him.

*

Nothing untoward happened during the transition from Winfield to the Goliath system. Not that Seamus had been expecting anything to. It all seemed rather humdrum. The time had been spent in getting to know his crew, as Barnes called them. Of the Captain he had neither seen nor heard a thing.

As he had expected, they were a strange bunch; the flotsam and jetsam of the ship. Barnes had claimed that they were the best, but the only award they seemed to have won, was that worn proudly across one of their number’s T-shirts. If Barnes was big, Lupus was enormous, and hairy. Big, black curly strands sprouted from every possible place, and no doubt some impossible ones too.

On his shirt was stenciled in fluorescent green letters “I DRANK TEN FUSIONNAIRES AND COULD STILL TALK!”. Having heard Lupus respond in nothing but grunts, Seamus did not doubt it.

His best mate was Frakman. No-one knew or cared what his real name was, but his constant cursing, no doubt, was the root of his nickname. He was short and whip-thin, with a rat-like face and constantly moving eyes. And they were the best of the bunch.

It was whilst they were at their assigned posts, awaiting re-entry into real space, that it really hit the fan.

*

Goliath System
Deep Periphery
Dark Falcons Protectorate, 04th July 3157


New alarms shrilled as soon as they transitioned.

“Proximity alarms?”

Frakman’s voice was squeaky, almost frightened.

Cadet McVay leapt from the drum on which he had been sitting and punched the intercom key. Nothing. He pushed Barnes aside and tried to open the main door to the ship. Zero.

The outer lock to the bay began to cycle and he cursed.

“Move!” he commanded, startling Barnes and his crew. There was an unquestionable authority in his voice, belying his years. Barnes saw him stop at the air-lock of the first shuttle. He could not see what he was doing, but it hissed open.

“In!” he snarled and the rag-tag crew of cut-throats meekly obeyed. The last of them falling through just as the air began to whistle out of the bay.

As the large doors opened, they could see shuttles waiting, which shot in. Ramps opening even as they touched the deck, and dark, armour-clad figures raced out.

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Post by MechRat » Thu Sep 10, 2009 2:28 pm

This is great, another new story to devour.

Rayo Azul wrote:Sorry, but you'll just have to wait to find out :twisted:
You're not the least bit sorry Rayo, you're enjoying every minute of our expectant curiosity... :wink:
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Post by Rayo Azul » Fri Sep 11, 2009 7:05 am

The Talon had entered normal space without incident yet her Captain had been unusually nervous. Beads of cold sweat had popped onto his brow as his fingers ran over his controls. His XO, at one point, tried to question what he was doing, but a snarl had sent him on his way. Alarms blaring had brought the XO back, but the pistol which miraculously appeared in the Captain’s hand, silenced whatever question he had in mind. Ratings, weapons cocked and ready, rushed to secure the bridge and it was only then the Captain smiled.

“All accounted for?” he asked his Aide, who seemed calm in the midst of the chaos.

“All except the new Cadet and Barnes’ crew…”

“[b]What[/b] ?”

The Captain leapt from his chair, motioning armed men to follow him.

“Where are they?” he screamed as he began to run.

“In the small craft bay…” the Captain's hand slapped across the Aide’s face, stopping him short.

“Oh frak!” shouted the Captain, his voice disappearing as he raced away.

“What is his problem?” asked the Aide of no-one in particular, “What can one Cadet and a bunch of drunken reprobates do?”

The XO smiled, ignoring the muzzle of the autorifle which wavered in front of his face.

“You’ve never heard of Mad Elias?”

“Bah,” sneered the man, “Myths and fairy tales. What has that got do with anything?”

Laughing the XO continued, “The insignificant Cadet? He is Seamus ELIAS McVay.”

“Yeah,” said a rating by his side, “and Frakman and Lupus are with him.”

“Oh…frak!” said the Aide quietly, now he knew why his Captain was so upset.


*

Seamus watched through an external link as the soldiers dispersed throughout the bay. They carried no markings, but were obviously professional. A large body pressed next to him and Barnes heavy breath impinged on his consciousness.

“How did they get in without a fight?” he asked.

“Someone inside helped them,” said Seamus tersely as he saw the inner doors opening, and the lights flashing for re-pressurization, “and there I think is your answer.”

The Captain stumbled through the half-open door and made his way straight towards the unwanted visitors. He spoke animatedly with them and they immediately began to fan out.

“Frakker!” muttered Barnes, “Now what are they doing?”

“Looking for us, I think,” said Seamus grinning, “I think your reputation has them scared.”

Barnes grunted in laughter, but he knew that it was not them being looked for. Rather it was this ice-cold Cadet, who was certainly more than he seemed.

There was a knocking at the main port and the flashing light of an incoming signal.

“Looks like they’ve found us,” said Seamus calmly, “let’s go and see what they want, shall we?”
Last edited by Rayo Azul on Fri Sep 11, 2009 8:32 am, edited 2 times in total.

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Post by MechRat » Fri Sep 11, 2009 8:25 am

Rayo Azul wrote: “In the small craft bay…” the hand which smashed into the Aide’s face, stopped him short.
Rayo,

I'm having a difficult time understanding the context of this sentence. Who's hand is in the Aide's face and if it is indeed "smashing" into his face, how is he able to communicte so calmly in the next sentence?

--MR
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Post by Rayo Azul » Fri Sep 11, 2009 8:31 am

MechRat wrote:
Rayo Azul wrote: “In the small craft bay…” the hand which smashed into the Aide’s face, stopped him short.
Rayo,

I'm having a difficult time understanding the context of this sentence. Who's hand is in the Aide's face and if it is indeed "smashing" into his face, how is he able to communicte so calmly in the next sentence?

--MR
See what you mean...changed. Let me know if that reads better :wink:

Cheers

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Post by Rayo Azul » Sat Sep 12, 2009 7:56 am

Chapter Three

Goliath System
Deep Periphery
Dark Falcons Protectorate, 04th July 3157



Captain Dawson watched as the line of ratings, arms held high above their heads, marched out of the shuttle, led by the ever-smiling Cadet. They were roughly grasped by his waiting allies, whilst others trained their rifles on them. He smirked, then walked to stand in front of Seamus.

“So, McVay, hiding were we?”

“No, actually,” replied Seamus, “Barnes bet me that we couldn’t get inside the shuttle before the air left the lock, and I said we could…”

There was a snort of laughter from Lupus, who was nudged in a conspiratorial fashion by his ever present companion. Blood rushed to the Captain´s face and he leaned close in to the Cadet.

“Well,” he sneered, “it will avail you not. You are all my prisoners!”

Seamus looked pointedly around at the gun-toting strangers and raised one eyebrow. Almost choking with anger, Dawson snarled at him.

“Insolent. Like all your family! Proud to be Dark Falcons, as well no doubt?”

A growl of discontent rumbled through the ratings, and Seamus seemed to be confused by something. Still smiling, he beckoned the Captain forward.

“I suppose,” he whispered, “that I should let the family slur go, this time. Insolence and madness are one of our better traits.”

Seamus raised his hand slowly and patted the Captain’s face, almost fondly, his tone changing and voice rising

“You scorn this,” he said, his right index finger tracing the Dark Falcon motif on the breast of his duty fatigues, “asking me if I’m proud to be a Dark Falcon? Well, as my grandfather would have said, “Does sh*t stink?”

His hand dipped into a pocket of his utility belt, flashing outwards. The knuckles of his right hand caught the Captain across the throat; a glancing blow which sent him choking backwards. With a flick of his wrist, something silver flashed, the air behind it blurring.

Arm now extended, Seamus tugged and a nearby soldier’s throat sprayed blood. He heaved again, and the man’s head toppled from his shoulders. The Cadet had not waited to see the final play in his short drama, he had already sprung to catch the man’s rifle and depressed the trigger.

*

Barnes was taken by surprise. One minute the Cadet had been in whispered conversation with the Captain, the next blood spilt. It was a momentary situation, his surprise, and he reacted quickly, as did his fellows.

Frakman flung his arm backward, a shiv concealed in his sleeve dropped into his hand and he buried it in the soldier behind. The man was unlucky. He had lifted up his visor to try and see what was written on the back of Lupus’ shirt, and paid the price for his curiosity.

A balled fist crashed against the helmet of Lupus’ antagonist. It was questionable whether the armour gave any sort of protection; the soldier dropping to the floor in a heap. Then all hell broke loose.

*

“Where’s Mr McVay?” roared Barnes, grabbing a soldier by the throat and crotch and raising him high, before tossing him into a group of the enemy.

“Eh?” never one for conversation, Lupus stared belligerently around.

“There!” said Frakman, pointing beneath the shuttle with his bloody implement.

Seamus slid on one knee from beneath the shuttle, rounds pinging off the metal of the craft. He rose, his right hand moving in a figure of eight. Barnes could see a silver weight which twisted and flashed around him.

“Madman!” he called and Seamus glanced his way, winked at him and threw his arm forward. Something whistled by his ear, and the soldier taking aim on the rating’s back crumpled to the floor.

“Frakking monofilament fibre,” breathed Barnes, now he knew what the Cadet was and conviction surged through him.

“Dark Falcons!” he screamed, launching himself into the fray.

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Post by Grunt213 » Sun Sep 13, 2009 8:04 am

Thanks for the updates Rayo!
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Post by Rayo Azul » Sun Sep 13, 2009 8:59 am

Not a problem :wink:

I am working on this story, set over a hundred years in the future from the first DF story, so that I can develop the timeline a little. In particular, I am trying to place the DF story in line with the developments which happened.

Hopefully, it will not be too much of a spoiler with respect to Book Two, but I needed somethig fresh to get my teeth into.

Part of the history will come out in the story itself, but I don't want to be accused of too much info dumping. If needs be, I will fill in the blanks with asides as we go along.

Cheers

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Post by Rayo Azul » Mon Sep 14, 2009 7:25 am

Council Chamber
Winfield
Dark Falcons Protectorate, 04th July 3157


Lars Mattlov stared in astonishment at the brawl which had broken out in the Council Chamber. Khan Ayrton Sheehan sat smiling, watching his subjects reduced to pure animal frenzy. Any ceremony had been thrown aside, as the various factions strove to prove their case. He in himself, was overweight and overindulgent; food and wine bedecked a small table by his side.

Mattlov knew that his opinion was in the minority and that the Khan and his followers would win the day, again.

It had started innocently enough; rumours of attacks had been conveyed to the Council. Over the previous century, the Protectorate had grown in size and importance within the sphere of their influence. They had avoided the internecine strife of the Inner Sphere and survived the collapse of the HPG network. Their job had been to provide protection and support for their member worlds and this had been carried out efficiently and effectively, despite the early death of their first Khan. Subsequent rulers had been infected with the vice of politics, factions developing which promoted the baser instincts.

A few, very few in fact, of the original Dark Falcons had shown dissent and were ruthlessly made an example of. Some had escaped, or had gone underground; the most famous of the cases being “Mad Elias”. He had disappeared with a cadre of followers, leaving his remote family members and associates to ridicule and persecution. That had been over fifty years ago. An underground movement now thrived in secret and, watching the ridiculous goings-on today, Mattlov was more than ever sure of its rightness.

“Gentlemen, gentlemen,” rumbled the Khan, waving a chicken leg in admonishment at the Council members, “this is little befitting such an august body.”

His Loremaster, Waylon David, bent and whispered in his ear. The Khan smiled and nodded.

“I said enough!”

Still the Council Members fought, one, an Elemental, had torn a bench clear from its mountings and had raised it high over her head. David spoke into a hand-held transmitter and from an upper balcony filed a group of soldiers in dark body armour. Autorifles were lowered and began to spit out high-velocity rounds. Bodies spun and twisted in a macabre dance, blood spurted and splashed indiscriminately as the soldiers sprayed the body politic with gusto.

Mattlov threw himself to the ground, reaching for a non-existent pistol. An order had been passed the previous week that forbade even ceremonial daggers in the Council Chamber. Freezing cold realization hit Mattlov; this had been meticulously planned!

He poked his head above the seat in front of him and looked down on the carnage. Only the Elemental remained; she had used the bench as a shield and bulled her way through to the locked doors. Finding them barred to her, she reversed the bench and used it as a battering ram, shattering the locks and heaving her way into the corridor beyond. Mattlov saw the flash of laser pistols and knew that all exits were covered.

In his jacket pocket, disguised as a stylus and pad, he held the means of his escape. Activating the concealed transmitter would initiate a bloodbath; civil war had been coming and it appeared to have arrived with a bang. He did not hesitate, punching the pre-arranged signal into his pad and drawing the stylus clear. With a snick, the slim blade inside flicked out. Mattlov had to follow the Elemental through her self-made exit and into the inferno beyond.

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Post by MechRat » Mon Sep 14, 2009 8:33 am

It is sad to see the Dark Falcons fall to such a level, especially Sheehan's decendants... :( However, it appears there are some who shall bring the true Falcons back and make Al Sheehan's spirit proud.
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Post by Grunt213 » Mon Sep 14, 2009 8:39 am

Whoo-Hoo!!!! Blood and Gore!!!! :twisted:
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Post by BeoWolf » Mon Sep 14, 2009 10:29 am

MechRat wrote:It is sad to see the Dark Falcons fall to such a level, especially Sheehan's decendants... :( However, it appears there are some who shall bring the true Falcons back and make Al Sheehan's spirit proud.
I agree with Mechrat's point of view. Truly a shame that Sheehan's descendents would stoop so low. They bring shame to their founder's name.
Stay true to the dream of the Kerensky's, now and always.

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Post by Rayo Azul » Mon Sep 14, 2009 12:22 pm

...But that's what happens with dynasties...or was it Dynasty??? Never get that right :wink:

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Post by Grunt213 » Mon Sep 14, 2009 8:38 pm

Rayo Azul wrote:...But that's what happens with dynasties...or was it Dynasty??? Never get that right :wink:

Cheers

Rayo
Very true, just look at the Roman's
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Post by Rayo Azul » Tue Sep 15, 2009 5:59 am

Chapter Four

Goliath System
Deep Periphery
Dark Falcons Protectorate, 04th July 3157



Bodies lay strewn about the bay, a mingling of both Dark Falcons and their aggressors. Only McVay and five others of the Talon’s crew were alive, as well as the groaning Captain Dawson. Barnes had a heavy boot planted on his erstwhile leader’s throat and was slowly increasing the pressure.

“Enough!” said Seamus in a clipped voice, “We still need him!”

The boot was removed and Barnes hauled Dawson to his feet.

“This? What do we need scum such as this for?”

“Because I say so, Barnes!” retorted the Cadet, ensuring that all of their enemy were well and truly dead.

“He knows who these people are and what they are here for. I have my suspicions, but would like them confirmed.”

“Hey!” Lupus called from where he was stripping the body armour from a corpse, “Look at this!”

The survivors trooped over, the majority of them staring open-mouthed at the emblem revealed by Lupus’ endeavours. There, blazing proudly back at them was the majestic falcon; the badge of honour for which they fought.

“They’re ours!” gasped Barnes, spinning back towards Dawson, “What the frak!”

Dawson sneered, but held his silence. Seamus walked slowly towards him, drawing his combat knife as he did so.

“You will talk, my good Captain,” he commented fingering the exposed blade, “it just remains for you to choose whether you need a little encouragement.”

“Oh, I’ll talk,” snapped Dawson, “if only to demonstrate the depth of the sh*t you are in!”

“My, my,” mused Seamus, “such defiance. Frakman!”

“Sir?” responded the rat-faced rating.

“You still got your shiv?”

Frakman smiled and waggled his bloody implement in front of him.

“Good. Teach the Captain a little humility, would you?” asked Seamus politely.

“Wait!” Dawson screamed, “You don’t need to do that!”

“Ah,” replied Seamus, “but we want to...”


*

Council Chamber
Winfield
Dark Falcons Protectorate, 04th July 3157



Mattlov threw himself forward, skidding along the blood-slicked floor. He came to a stop with a crash, as his body slammed into the opposite wall of the corridor. Behind him, he could hear the reports of pistols, as Sheehan’s opponents were removed from the field of conflict. Noise close by drew his attention.

The Elemental, bleeding from a number of wounds was in the midst of a group of soldiers. She had managed to wrench an autorifle from one of them and was using it as a club. Looking down, Mattlov saw another near to his right hand and icked it up, checking that it still worked. Finger depressed on the trigger, he raced to the Elemental’s aid.

In such a target-rich environment, he could not miss. Short bursts cleared the men to her right and left and then he too was amongst them. His right boot cracked into a knee, breaking bone and dropping his adversary to the floor. He reversed the gun and slammed the butt into the throat exposed before him. Sound behind warned him of his next attacker. Mattlov blocked the descending rifle with his own, stabbed the muzzle of his rifle into the man’s chest and pulled the trigger.

This close, it was less science and more will and brute strength. The Elemental swung one body in front of her and used it as a flail, scattering enemies. Mattlov stood back and shot them where they lay. It was soon over.

“My thanks,” said the Elemental, “but I was managing quite nicely on my own, Star Colonel.”

Laughing, Mattlov recognised the blood-named warrior, “Elana Pershaw, you do your namesake proud.”

This time she bowed, then turned rapidly at the sound of approaching footsteps.

“It is time to withdraw,” said Mattlov, noticing the anger rising in Pershaw’s face, “Think of this not as a retreat, rather a regrouping. Khan Sheehan has initiated this pogrom and we need to get out of here. There are others who hold the honour of the Dark Falcons, as highly as we do. We need to find them.”

Still she wavered, her desire to fight warring with her good sense.

“That is an order, Star Captain!” snarled Mattlov as he moved down the corridor, “There will be many more enemies to crush before we can restore the good name of our Clan. That I promise you.”

MechRat
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Post by MechRat » Tue Sep 15, 2009 8:26 am

At least the Pershaw and Mattlov lines have bred true. :D I believe they will have a hard battle against the other lines which have become soiled and tainted like Sheehan... :evil:
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Post by Rayo Azul » Wed Sep 16, 2009 10:24 am

hmmm ...good idea :twisted:

Cheers

Rayo

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Post by Rayo Azul » Wed Sep 16, 2009 12:22 pm

Goliath System
Deep Periphery
Dark Falcons Protectorate, 04th July 3157



Cadet McVay peered around the open door. Behind crouched Barnes and the remaining ratings. They were now fully armed and armoured, but a little confused as to what the Cadet intended to do. Arrogantly he had assumed that they would follow; a true Dark Falcon to the core.

A quick movement of his hand sent the group to their next objective, Seamus and Barnes covering them. Lupus gave the all-clear and the two of them rushed forward. Once more McVay studied the terrain and curtly whispered for them to wait.

There were two guards in front of the Battle Control Room. This was a secondary Bridge, giving an alternative in case of damage to primary controls. McVay paced silently towards the sentries, his monofilament bola held ready in his right hand. When he thought he was close enough, he began to swing the deadly fibre.

The sudden tramp of booted feet stopped him and he threw himself to one side. A full squad of black-clad soldiers appeared and took up their positions next to the guards.

“Frak!” muttered Barnes, “Now what?”

Seamus slowly made his way back, hugging the shadows. “Games up,” he said, staring longingly at their traitorous fellows, “there is little chance of us breaking through them.”

“What do you mean, Sir?” rumbled Lupus, “We took them in the hanger and we can do it here.”

The Cadet’s infectious grin returned, “I have no doubt of it Lupus,” he said clasping the big man’s shoulder, “but they’ve got men to waste...and we haven’t.”

Nods of agreement greeted his words; these men would definitely do.

“They’ll soon find the bodies, Sir,” said Barnes matter-of-factly.

“True,” mused Seamus, “but will they know the difference?”

They looked confused and he continued, “We’re dressed just like them. The corpses, apart from the Captain of course, are pretty unidentifiable. Frakman saw to that. We need to disappear, and the best place to do that is in plain sight.”

“Barnes?”

“Yes, Sir?”

“Is there anywhere you can think of that will have to be guarded, but no-one will really want the job?”

Barnes paused for a moment, his brow wrinkling, “Yes...,” he said with a toothy grin, “...I have just the place.”

*

Chamber Grounds
Winfield
Dark Falcons Protectorate, 04th July 3157


“The barracks, Star Colonel, we need to get to the barracks.”

The certainty in Elana’s voice wrested Mattlov’s concentration away from the purpling face in front of him. He let go, kicking the soldier in the temple as the limp body fell.

“And why would that be?” he asked as they exited a side corridor. He scanned the area and moved on.

“My armour and my men are there,” she stated flatly.

“Can you trust them?” he asked, spraying bullets into a group of soldiers who had appeared unexpectedly.

“Of course!”

It was as if he had insulted her, yet it was pertinent question in light of recent events. As a Dark Falcon, he too would normally have taken offence at such a query, but not lately though.

“Very well,” he said, checking his ammunition, “lead on.”

Elana moved with a litheness which belied her bulk, not that any who tried to stop them would have doubted who and what she was. Laser and machine gun fire drew them on, the noise increasing as they left the Council building. Their pursuers had learnt caution, sudden death had made them reconsider their options.

“There,” Elana pointed to an area of the barracks hung with a pall of smoke, “that will be my men.”

“Will there be a spare suit for an old man?” asked Mattlov, “I woud prefer an Ominech, but...”

“We will find you something,” laughed Elana as she slapped him on the back, almost driving him to his knees with the blow, “even if it has to have wheels.”