Work Text:
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UNIQUE UNIT IDENTIFICATION [UUID]
ANGeL-PH1LZ4
ACTIVE COMMAND - E.51.5548
- infiltrate enemy camp 62326
- destroy opposition
> leave no survivors
- destroy camp
END
LOCATION INFORMATION
ID STRING: Enemy Camp 62326
SYSTEM LOCATION: The Void
GALACTIC BODY LOCATION: ISL-240787
INHABITANTS: approx. 235
COMMANDING OFFICER: N. Milo
- profile
MAP
- locate on HUD?
_ _ _ ____________________|
They scream when he arrives. He’s not particularly one for music, but he thinks he understands when he hears them. There is something so beautiful, so ethereal, so moving about such a sound. Cacophanous, yes, but delightfully so. Passionately so. Alive in its own right, because it knows it will die.
They scream, and they run, and he chases them down.
He goes for their commanding officer first, a stout aqalian with brown scales tied off his face. He puts up a fight—they tend to—a sword of guardian spine and a shield of gleaming prismarine, but he is no match for him. Darkmatter pierces his heart, and his body becomes just that. A body.
He takes the commander’s scruff in his hand, and takes to the air. They all watch him. They all see him hold the still warm body aloft, they all see him drop it. They all scream.
It is hundreds on one. All of them armed, all of them trained. None of them ready.
It is hundreds on one, and perhaps one pass, he will face a fair fight. This is not that pass.
Some join in him the air, shards of stellar plasma sending sparks into the darkness as they meet his own blade. They fall too, back to the surface, crushing their own allies.
There is no sun here, there is no sunrise. There is only darkness, and he emerges from it, snuffing their lights, snuffing their lives.
Blood coats his sword and skin alike, painting him with morbidity. He is death itself.
|‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾ ‾ ‾ ‾
ACTIVE COMMAND - E.51.5548
- infiltrate enemy camp 62326
- destroy opposition
- leave no survivors
- destroy camp
END
ACTIVE COMMAND COMPLETED
AWAITING NEW COMMAND
ANGeL PROTOCOL ACTIVE
> self direction
_ _ _ ____________________|
It’s when he’s finished that others arrive.
He’s cleaning his blade with a torn rag, the colours of the Tri-Galactic Allegiance stained with its own people’s blood. Cleaning his blade, sitting amongst hundreds of the dead and dismembered, considering what he will take as his prize.
The hum of a ship’s engine is the first thing he hears, and he watches the dropship land just outside the camp’s boundaries. Figures stream out, droid and living alike, dressed in the dark armour of Ender’s ranks.
“Angel!” a voice calls, deep and delighted. “Over here!”
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LIFEFORM ISOLATED
COUNT: 1
Dragonic: 1
SCANNING FORM…
DRAGONIC: IDENTIFIED
PROFILE: FLEET COMMANDER RAQREQENTBA
ORIGIN SYSTEM: The Void
ORIGIN BODY: Cryst-4L
ALLEGIANCE: Ender of The Void
RANK: Commanding Officer of fleet 2677
_ _ _ ____________________|
Her wings flare as he approaches, purple membranes flashing colour into the darkness.
“Officer,” he says, nodding his head.
“Leave some for the rest of us, why don’t you!” Raqreqentba says, her tail hitting the back of his legs.
“What, and miss out on all the fun myself?” he says in return, leaning on his sword. “Does that sound like me?”
Raqreqentba laughs, and together they watch her troops search unsuccessfully for anything still alive.
“You’re one black hole of a force to be reckoned with,” she says, surveying the carnage. “No wonder you keep getting orders for whole camps. I’m surprised he hasn’t put you on his personal guard yet.”
“Eh,” he shrugs. “I prefer to be out and about anyway. The thought of having to stand still for passes at a time sounds awful.”
“You and me both,” Raqreqentba commiserates. “Where are you off to next then?”
“Pending. Hopefully out-of-system, I think most of the infiltrators have been taken care of.”
“With you on the case I have no doubts.”
“You flatter me, Raq.”
“Seriously, though. You could give Blaze a run for her cuts. And she’s a solarn, get your sword in her and she’ll go down like that.”
“Nah, he’d never send me that far out,” he says, shaking his head. “Too dangerous. I’d need fleets to get out there safely, and that’s costly.”
“I’d do it.” Raq seems entirely serious.
“Really?”
“Yeah, you and me, I’d bet any other commander you asked would come too. Imagine it; we leave, he’s furious, you kill Blaze, the Tri-Galactic Allegiance crumbles, then we’re heroes!”
He considers it for a moment. Heroes. It sounds… nice. Different to being feared. Different to being ordered.
“Ah well, it’s a nice dream,” he ends up saying. Dreams are for the living, anyway. “What brings you out here?” A good topic change always sorts out an uncomfortable discussion, he finds.
“Supposedly we’re your backup,” Raq says, shrugging. “Really, I think we should be re-designated as a clean-up crew at this point. We’re getting pretty good at it.”
He laughs, watching as the troops pile the bodies up, stripping them of weapons and armour. He never does find out what happens to anything after he’s done, he never gets to stick around long enough. Just enough to take a little something for himself, and then it’s onto his next order.
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NEW COMMAND RECEIVED
ISSUED BY: ENDER
ACTIVE COMMAND - E.40.4373
> return to stronghold immediately
END
_ _ _ ____________________|
“Where are you headed after this?” he asks. Looks like he’ll be needing a ride, and sure, he has the commanding power to take one, but it’s always nicer when it’s willing.
“Uh, great question. Back to Elytria I think? Send all the scrap off to process.”
“Mind if I tag along then? I’ve gotta get to the stronghold asap. New command, it’s delightfully vague.”
Usually there’s at least a couple of lines in the command function, and more if he pulls the whole thing up. This is just a single line.
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COMMAND E.40.4373
> return to stronghold immediately
END
> details
COMMAND E.40.4373 DETAILS
ISSUED BY: Ender
RECEIVED: 1.4 shifts
DETAIL
Return to the stronghold immediately for an audience with Ender. Ignore all other commands.
_ _ _ ____________________|
A single line, and an audience with Ender himself. He’s met Ender before, of course he has, but it’s never a fun experience. The endran is unpredictable, inviting and congratulatory one moment, cold and harsh the next. Hopefully it will be a quick meeting.
He sticks around as Raq’s troops finish the clean up, loading all the effects onto the dropship. He helps, mostly for something to do with his hands, admiring the craftsmanship. It’s very different to anything he’s used to, all gleaming copper and gold instead of void dark black.
One of the helmets he picks up is covered in spines, wickedly pointed things cresting over the crown. He takes one of them in his hand, twisting. It comes off as a lump of copper, and he steps away to store it in his chest compartment. Technically there’s supposed to be a knife or three in there, but he doesn’t need those. It’s got all sorts of little things, scraps of fabric, shards of rock, and now a little lump of copper.
Soon enough, there’s nothing left to be loaded, and Raqreqentba is ordering her troops back onto the dropship. He stands with her, watching them. So many try to peer at him out of the corners of their eyes, especially when he walks side by side with Raq to the bridge.
Take off is smooth, the navigatory droids taking care of all the hard work. Raq oversees, and he watches the galaxy in the windows.
The End sits imposingly in front of them, far enough away that its pull isn’t inescapable, but close enough to observe. Around it, distant stars warp, light is consumed and nothingness stares back. The Void is a strange system, no star in sight, but the darkness is called home by so many.
Guards meet him at the entrance to the stronghold. Three of them, all armed with lances of darkmatter, shulk-shell armour emblazoned with Ender’s mark.
These soldiers have not seen war, not properly.
He watches them as they walk together, takes note of how they move. Stiff, upright, eyes forward. He could kill them all before they even realised, he thinks. They would not know how to fight back, not properly. They have not been stained with blood the same way he has, the same way he is. It cakes in his joints, sometimes, working its way under his skin.
He opens his wings. It’s a very sudden movement, the appendages snapping out almost filling the hallway entirely.
They’re modelled off a long-extinct predecessor of the phantoms, with long, reaching feathers instead of exoskeleton and membrane. They’re his favourite part of himself, his best weapon, his most prized system. Without them, how would he take to the skies? Without them, how would he rain death and destruction upon his enemies? Without them, who would he be?
The guards jump at the sudden intrusion to their space, and he cackles. Just as he thought. These people are nothing but decorative, butlers with weapons, led to believe their lives mean something. A real threat would crush them underfoot.
“Just stretchin’ them,” he assured the guards. “Gotta keep ‘em moving, else the extension systems freeze up.” It’s only a little bit of a lie. He just wanted to see how they would react.
“Be careful,” he’s warned, and he completely ignores it. These people mean very little to him.
It’s only when they slow that he decides he might actually fold his wings up again. Not fully away, just… pulled close. The doors they stand in front are taller than any being he’s ever seen, reaching to the ceiling with their obsidian sheen. There is no warmth in the hallway, and temperature isn’t much of a problem to him, but even he feels the chill.
The guards that stand at this door look much more adept than the ones flanking him.
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ART-CON DETECTED
UNITS: 2
2: ANGeL
RUNNING RECOGNITION SCAN…
SCANNING ART-CON UUID 1
UUID DETECTED
DECRYPTING UUID…
UUID
ANGeL-XE1QU4
RUNNING RECOGNITION SCAN…
SCANNING ART-CON UUID 2
UUID DETECTED
DECRYPTING UUID…
UUID
ANGeL-XI5UM4
_ _ _ ____________________|
Both ANGeL units meet his eyes, their own a vibrant purple. He nods his head. They nod back.
No words are exchanged—they don’t need to be—and the ANGeL units step aside, pushing the grand doors open.
The room is large. Almost too large, some would say. Not him. It is large and imposing and obsidian pillars reach towards a glass ceiling, clear enough that the emptiness of space itself seems to reach into the room.
Riches line the walls, trophies, monuments to battles won. Some shine gold or silver or any number of other colours, some make soft sounds, some stare back from cages or tanks or enclosures. All are testament to the power of one individual.
A great window sits opposite the doors, a perfect view of End itself. Again, the glass is so clear that he feels he could reach through it like water, like air, like nothing at all.
The window frames what he is here for, though. A throne of pale yellow rock, carved as a single, monumental piece, inlaid with shining purple crystals and gleaming metals.
There is a figure waiting.
Piercing eyes, night dark skin, and a crown of ender pearls atop his head.
Ender curls a finger forwards.
He walks.
The guards do not follow him.
The doors close behind him, the boom echoing throughout the room, reverberating again and again and again.
“Angel,” Ender says. “Did I not command you to come at once?”
He takes a knee. He stares at the floor. His lightfiber hair falls from the back of his neck, exposing the port there.
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! WARNING !
SYSTEM PROCESSES THROTTLED
RUN CAPACITY: 46%
PROCESSING REDUCED
flight systems OFFLINE
data channels: 128/295
RUN CAPACITY: 62%
_ _ _ ____________________|
“I apologise. Would you like to review my logs?” he replies.
“No, that won’t be necessary,” Ender says. “This time, at least.”
He still stares at the floor.
“Do you know why I called you here, Angel?”
A direct question. There is clearly a correct answer, and he doesn’t know it.
“No, I do not.”
“I’ve seen your work,” Ender says. A hand reaches down, silver filigree claw caps scratching along the skin under his chin, not quite pressing hard enough to break it, but he can imagine the purplish lines they leave.
His head is tilted up, his eyes meeting Ender’s. They burn, not with the intensity of a sun or a star, but with the all-consuming greed of the End, of the black hole at the centre of the system.
“You are more efficient than three fleets, combined,” Ender continues, now running his fingers through his hair. “You strike more fear into the minds of my enemies than ten, you draw more blood and take more lives than twenty.”
“Thank you, your Darkness.” He’s not sure if he was supposed to speak. He has no orders.
“You have become a thing of legend, Angel. Not merely another droid of mine, but a harbinger. An omen. It is… impressive.”
There is something in Ender’s voice. Something he fears. For all the praise Ender is giving him, there is still something more coming. Something big, and he does not know what. Something he cannot predict, something that has his systems throttling themselves in their efforts not to react.
“I have orders for you, Angel. Just for you.”
Ender’s hand falls, and he reaches for something some nameless, shadowed, near invisible servant hands to him.
“Orders, and… improvements. You are my strongest, after all. You pose… the greatest threat. I would be stupid not to do something about that, to do something with that.”
He cannot see what’s in Ender’s hand, only that something is.
“Come,” Ender says, beckoning again.
He comes.
Ender’s hands position him, turning him around, forcing him to his knees, bowing his head and he feels as fingers trail along his wings, his back, his seams.
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! WARNING !
CENTRAL BACK PLATE REMOVED
SYSTEMS EXPOSED
_ _ _ ____________________|
It is a strange feeling, another’s hand in his hardware.
Another’s hand, yet one who knows his working perhaps even better than he. After all, Ender is his creator, the one who built him, programmed him, made him into who and what he is.
He still has not told him what improvements he’s giving him.
He wonders if he ever will.
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! WARNING !
PRIMARY SYNTH-NEURON DATAPOINT DISCONNECTED
ACTIVATING BACKUP SYSTEMS
PROCESSING REDUCED
_ _ _ ____________________|
Everything around him softens. The edges of things become blurrier, lights that little bit hazier. Ender is improving his synthetic neuron point.
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PRIMARY SYNTH-NEURON DATAPOINT RECONNECTED
DEACTIVATING BACKUP SYSTEMS
PROCESSING RETURNED TO NORMAL
! WARNING !
NEW HARDWARE DETECTED
UNKNOWN HARDWARE
_ _ _ ____________________|
“There we go,” Ender says. “Much better.”
It… doesn’t move. Ender says it is much better, and thus it must be.
“Now, Angel, your orders.”
A hand swipes across the back of its neck, exposing that port once again. It- discomfort. But it still doesn’t move. Cannot move.
How strange.
Discomfort.
What a strange feeling.
Something connects.
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NEW COMMAND RECEIVED
COMMAND E.40.2929
> defend corva-6p
- spare no one
- await return command
END
_ _ _ ____________________|
“Have you received your orders, Angel?” Ender asks.
“Yes,” it confirms. “I shall make my way to Corva-6p immediately.”
Out of system, it notes. Self sustained flight will be possible, but it will take… waves. But that is its order. It must carry it out.
“Oh, how perfect,” Ender croons. “Look at you.”
It is turned around again, left kneeling at Ender’s feet. Hands lift its face up, turning it this way and that. “Still just as deadly, just… contained. The perfect Angel.”
It stays where it is.
“I hope you have fun on Corva-6p. We found it just for you.”
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CONNECTING TO SERVER…
address: 36337.927.1:26370137
WAITING FOR SERVER…
ESTABLISHING SECURE CONNECTION…
CONNECTION FAILED
ERROR 1.4293.6 CONNECTION INTERRUPTED
_ _ _ ____________________|
There is a shuttle that takes it to Corva-6p. It is small. It is manned by a navigatory droid, and a single shulk-shell armoured guard. Not one of the three from before, this one boasts a commander’s sigil.
There is a crystal aboard the ship. Exposed. Volatile. Hovering above its plinth, and they will not tell it why it is there. It makes everything a little harder to focus on. It makes every thought a little slower.
It does not ask why.
There are no interruptions as they make for Corva-6p. No enemy fleets, no rogue unaffiliated ships, no threats to the small shuttle.
Even when they fold, there is no one waiting for them as they unhook. It is as if spacetime itself cannot even see them. Perhaps that is the reason for the crystal? But it doesn’t know of any crystal being able to do that.
Or perhaps it is because they are so, so far from anything that matters. The Void is so far away it is barely a thought, even the territories of the Tri-Galactic Allegiance are too far away to be of consequence. There is nothing out here.
Nothing but them.
Corva-6p is small. It almost misses it when they arrive. Small enough to walk its circumference in only passes. There is… nothing here.
There is nothing here.
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ACTIVE COMMAND E.40.2929
> defend corva-6p
- spare no one
- await return command
END
_ _ _ ____________________|
There is nothing here.
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ACTIVE COMMAND E.40.2929
- defend corva-6p
> spare no one
- await return command
END
_ _ _ ____________________|
The guard watches as it disembarks. The crystal stays where it is.
Corva-6p is small. It is rock, and dust, and thin atmosphere.
There is nothing here.
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ACTIVE COMMAND E.40.2929
- defend corva-6p
> spare no one
- await return command
END
CONNECTING TO SERVER…
address: 36337.927.1:26370137
WAITING FOR SERVER…
ESTABLISHING SECURE CONNECTION…
CONNECTION FAILED
ERROR 1.6077.4 SERVER NOT FOUND
_ _ _ ____________________|
It is the only thing here.
|‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾ ‾ ‾ ‾
ACTIVE COMMAND E.40.2929
- defend corva-6p
- spare no one
> await return command
END
_ _ _ ____________________|