unconditionally. It couldn’t be true! There was no way The World Council would submit to the will of an alien force, no matter how belligerent without a fight. There was dissent amongst the fleet. Many claimed it was a Koll trick; a subterfuge to lull the EDP forces into lowering their guard, but it was no bluff. They were to yield unconditionally.
Many ships revolted and the Bristol had fled the EDP fleet with the intention of continuing the war on her own terms, and vowing to find a way to free Earth from the grip of The Koll. The crusade soon became little more than a desperate flight to stay ahead of the pursuing Koll forces, and they lasted a little more than three months before the gate drive failed and they were discovered.
The Koll arrived in force; the Bristol besieged and her engines destroyed. Yet still The Koll kept firing. Eight strike ships fired volley after volley into her, each shot striking like a sledgehammer, resonating the hull and killing his people, his loyal people. Their corpses were everywhere, but she held together and they fought back until reduced to spitting into the eye of those who would see them dead.
The Koll would learn at what cost Royal Navy crew men sold their lives, but pay The Koll did. Reducing the Bristol to a tumbling smoking hulk, with half her crew dead and a screaming commander who met the borders with pistol and knife.
Denz found himself weak and unable to move, his face pressed against the table as if a boot were on his neck. His body felt heavy and sodden as if he’d crawled from water after near drowning, with his breaths coming in short stabbing gasps. He could hear the laughter and hum of voices from nearby tables and tried to call out, but the words were little more than low panting moans.
He did not want to relive what he knew was coming and he tried move, tried to escape but his body was wet sand, a cold dumb mass upon the table with his spirit broke beyond the ability to resist reliving the benevolent Koll’s fair and just treatment of those who deserted the fleet.
First came the word: Admiral Quincen. Promises of mercy and absolution should they surrender the Bristol and lay down their arms, which they did. Then The Koll foremen came. Hoods and bound hands, needles and dreams to wake to nightmares. Their cell an underground chamber, the misty swap air lit by primitive torches and alive with the sounds of things that chirped and creaked, hissed and roared. Flickering flames cast shadows of terrible things that uncoiled to tower cobra like over goading keepers. The great round heads splitting open to reveal dagger teeth as they roared like cage whipped beasts and snapped closed.
Then the foremen took their arms. Chopping and slashing, sawing and hacking with blood spraying as limbs were torn from bodies. And the screams! Oh Lord how his crew screamed as the blades rose and fell, rose and fell. Then in they went. The glistening eyeless heads opening wide, happy to receive his kicking writhing crew who were cast in and chomp chomp chomp . He had tried not to see, tried to look away but they held his head. They held his head so he saw it all. Saw it all! Every bite! Every kicking leg and snapping bone as his writhing screaming crew paid for his disloyalties. Oh God in heaven he never thought there could be such torment. Have mercies and end their sufferings, please!
An age passed before the struggling ceased and cries faded as they succumbed to digestive juices.
My poor tasty crew, gone at last. Into the pot for The Koll monster’s supper. I hope you enjoyed your disloyalty stew, monsters. His unhinged chuckles became the only sound as the last of the creatures coiled into its nest, chirping contentedly, its stomachs full.
Then the truth found him. That this banquet of the macabre was the result of his actions. His crew only partial payment for his decision to run. The anguish wracked his frame as he cried into his palms until his chest burned as if
Many ships revolted and the Bristol had fled the EDP fleet with the intention of continuing the war on her own terms, and vowing to find a way to free Earth from the grip of The Koll. The crusade soon became little more than a desperate flight to stay ahead of the pursuing Koll forces, and they lasted a little more than three months before the gate drive failed and they were discovered.
The Koll arrived in force; the Bristol besieged and her engines destroyed. Yet still The Koll kept firing. Eight strike ships fired volley after volley into her, each shot striking like a sledgehammer, resonating the hull and killing his people, his loyal people. Their corpses were everywhere, but she held together and they fought back until reduced to spitting into the eye of those who would see them dead.
The Koll would learn at what cost Royal Navy crew men sold their lives, but pay The Koll did. Reducing the Bristol to a tumbling smoking hulk, with half her crew dead and a screaming commander who met the borders with pistol and knife.
Denz found himself weak and unable to move, his face pressed against the table as if a boot were on his neck. His body felt heavy and sodden as if he’d crawled from water after near drowning, with his breaths coming in short stabbing gasps. He could hear the laughter and hum of voices from nearby tables and tried to call out, but the words were little more than low panting moans.
He did not want to relive what he knew was coming and he tried move, tried to escape but his body was wet sand, a cold dumb mass upon the table with his spirit broke beyond the ability to resist reliving the benevolent Koll’s fair and just treatment of those who deserted the fleet.
First came the word: Admiral Quincen. Promises of mercy and absolution should they surrender the Bristol and lay down their arms, which they did. Then The Koll foremen came. Hoods and bound hands, needles and dreams to wake to nightmares. Their cell an underground chamber, the misty swap air lit by primitive torches and alive with the sounds of things that chirped and creaked, hissed and roared. Flickering flames cast shadows of terrible things that uncoiled to tower cobra like over goading keepers. The great round heads splitting open to reveal dagger teeth as they roared like cage whipped beasts and snapped closed.
Then the foremen took their arms. Chopping and slashing, sawing and hacking with blood spraying as limbs were torn from bodies. And the screams! Oh Lord how his crew screamed as the blades rose and fell, rose and fell. Then in they went. The glistening eyeless heads opening wide, happy to receive his kicking writhing crew who were cast in and chomp chomp chomp . He had tried not to see, tried to look away but they held his head. They held his head so he saw it all. Saw it all! Every bite! Every kicking leg and snapping bone as his writhing screaming crew paid for his disloyalties. Oh God in heaven he never thought there could be such torment. Have mercies and end their sufferings, please!
An age passed before the struggling ceased and cries faded as they succumbed to digestive juices.
My poor tasty crew, gone at last. Into the pot for The Koll monster’s supper. I hope you enjoyed your disloyalty stew, monsters. His unhinged chuckles became the only sound as the last of the creatures coiled into its nest, chirping contentedly, its stomachs full.
Then the truth found him. That this banquet of the macabre was the result of his actions. His crew only partial payment for his decision to run. The anguish wracked his frame as he cried into his palms until his chest burned as if
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