Stepping off the Ave Liberato, wearing the a freshly tailored suit with a satin cape over a single shoulder connected with a gold chain on the other, Sector 20 Guild Commander Yareck takes in the view. Dozens of rusting vessels, the tipped over DuskWalker, the horde of the dead in front of him desperately trying to rip him asunder, and last of all, the Liberations pride and joy, the corpse of project Oobelawng. Getting in here was a nightmare itself, having to destroy the mindless Reaver was not on the mission statement but, nonetheless, had to be done in order to complete the task.
Yareck hated being part of the retrieval crew. He much more enjoyed giving the orders than receiving them but he did enjoy watching the Ad Liberum corp do their work in removing necessary issues and retrieving "lost toys" that the Liberation so valued. He understood why they had to do these "research" projects out and away from the commons and any prying eyes but it was always such a hassle everytime they were in his sector. Yena and Louum never had to deal with any of this, so why should he? Scowling, fucking bastards. He is going to demand a high position after this fetch and liquidation quest.
"Captain, please tell your men to begin following their orders. This incessant pounding is going to give me a headache." Yareck lazily said, oblivious to the death that awaited him only 5 feet away.
"Sir." Captain Ablett affirms and radios to her men to begin. Yareck, still as a statue, watches fifty brave men and women exit the back of the ship. Lining a path between the cells in the cargo hold to the outside, the Ad Liberum begin herding the dead army and liquidating any that get too handsy with them then dragging them on board so as not to leave any subjects behind. The other half of the horde is too preoccupied with trying to chase whatever meal is on the other side of that shutter.
Yareck, still not bothering to face the Captain orders, "Make sure your troops scoop up the lab subject as well as the other corpse. The Liberation will not be pleased that their toy is broken but they may be happy to have it back in their possession as well as this other gift." Once again affirming, they do as ordered and load up the eviscerated corpse of the Oobelawng, dripping blood and gore, as well as the corpse of the Angel. Turning his attention back to the DuskWalker, he strolls out of the safety of his personal vessel toward the ship known to him.
Examining the flipped over ship, tuffs of fur, scratch marks (caused from usage, claw marks, or slashes with an axe), bloody handprints all over and the door laying on the ground to his left. Did they die as soon as they came aboard like the others? Surly they must have, Al first of course, fucking weasel. Then again the other horde is trying to reach something, maybe they did survive. But that corpse was Al, had his clothing and stitched name tag on it, was he the only one to die? Too many questions, not enough answers. If any of them did live, and are living now, they mustn't be too happy right now. I wouldn't either if I spent as long as they have on here alive.
"Captain," Yareck says over his communicator, "tell your troops that I want this vessel on the ground so I can enter it and I want it done an Old-Earth hour ago." Clicking off without waiting for any affirmation, he stands in wait. This crew above all else needed to be disposed of. They had the highest likelihood of turning, becoming heretics and rebels. If they managed to survive he'll be done for, demoted immediately and sent to any number of mining planet where he'll most likely die and be the furthest thing in the mind of his superiors.
With a loud crash, that is also met with moans from the horde by the bay door, a large dust cloud plumes up as the DuskWalker lands on its bottom. Yareck commands some of the Ad Liberum to round up those that are coming closer and the others to follow him as he inspects the vessel. Looking around he notes just how lived in this ship is, how homey it has become to this crew. Dining wear and cups shattered on the floor, bed rooms all messed up and paper work scattered. Blood and gore on the floor and couch then onto the walls trailing all the way deeper into the ship.
Following the blood trail, they arrive to BBs' room, where the blood trail stops. Entering, there are signs of blood and gore on the wall that has seeped down onto the floor. Surely they must have died, there is too much blood everywhere. Knowing it's a fools hope, he turns too face the Captain, "We're going into the Pandemonium for cleaning duty."
"Sir, I must argue against you on this. We were sent here on a retrieval missing not cleaning," Captain Ablett said and adding, "plus you are our ward and our duty is to protect you while on the this vessel until we drop you off at Sector 20 guildhall."
Yareck, irritated, "I understand that Captian," adding as much visceral to the word, "but if we don't make sure that the group that own this ship are dead and they manage to come back to civilization than we'll all be condemned to the mining worlds. Or worse." Knowing the number of things the Liberation does to those who fail while knowing more than they should. They become liabilities, problems to be solved, and what do you do with liabilities? You make them vanish or you feed them to the hungry. Without any further arguments Ablett orders her men out and meets up with those who were meant to take care of the other half of the horde.
Exiting, the soldier-mercenaries are gone. It is improbable that they got over run by those dead things, they've dealt with worse experiments and larger hordes, but the blood splatters and viscera can only lead to one fate on this ship. Looking toward where the mini-horde should be, they're still where they were left but now just standing there. Motionless, swaying gently.
The remaining Ad Liberum, Captain Ablett and Yareck begin to look around for the reanimated corpses of those that were, only minutes ago, alive. They begin to find limbs and larger splatters of blood on the wall and multitude of ships. As the Ad Liberum continues moving onward, Yareck stops for a moment to inspect the limb. This wasn't ripped off by the hands of the dead it was sliced off. The marks are almost similar in tearing but these are too jagged, to precise. What the hell happened and why was there no gun fire? If the dead didn't get them, then what did?
Returning to the Corp the sound of munching grows louder and is matched by the sound of tearing. Rounding the corner, Yareck sees the Captain and her men, weapons trained on a lone figure too preoccupied by it's meal, surrounded by the bodies of the missing soldiers, each with bits of armor ripped off and scattered and bits of their flesh missing. Ablett gives the signal to switch to deadly force that is met with the clicks of weapons switching modes and ammunition being made the thing stops eating and glowing violet eyes can be seen gently moving to look at where the sound originated.
Seeing the armor, Yareck shouts, "You, soldier, name and rank. Now or you will be shot into the arms of Life herself." Wanting a damned explanation of what happened and why this soldier, somehow, executed his siblings in arms without anyone else hearing it.
The figure slowly raises, a blood filled grin that can be seen for an Old-Earth mile, a doubled-voice resonates out in response, "Well if you just must have a name and rank," the thing loudly sniffs, "Yareck, then I shall humbly give you one. Previously, I was gifted the title of 'Angel' but now I have been gifted something much more by her majesty, my glorious Archon. I have been saved from death, given life and power anew. I have been given that which you humans give out like sweets, a name. You may call me Mors." As Mors goes to pick up the axe that was not seen till now, the Ad Liberum opens fire on him.
With recognition setting in, the sound of gun fire recedes, fear exudes out of Yareck as he regresses into his mind. This is impossible, how has it survived? We killed the main body while the mind was elsewhere. The Reaver should be dead and mind lost. Now it has a name and has fully possessed a body? Oh Life, what do we not know about these creatures.
Gun fire stops bringing Yareck back. The Reaver, one of the Angels, Mors, is still standing, bullets scattered all around him, and staring deep into Yareck. The scent of fear, denial, and all those intoxicants are spilling out. Unheard to anyone else but him, 'Your fear is potent. It's delicious.' The grin on Mors face never once cracks or leaves.
Meeting those uneathly violet eyes and really examining Mors the signature Reaver crystals are protruding all over the body. Upon this discovery, Yareck runs and runs fast as his desk job legs will take him followed by the mixture of bullet fire, slashing, screaming and above all cruel laughter. Hungered moans followed.
"What have we unleashed." Yareck asks no one, "Life, please forgive and spare me, I beg your mercy." But no one and nothing answers his pleas as he runs up the fallen catwalk and jumps into the vents. Seconds after entering the vents, hurried steps approached where he had only just been. With dust and grime collecting on once pristine clothing, Yareck begins making his way through the vents, knowing there is a singular safe place on this ship that he can call for help. The Bridge.
