[Admiral]
Location #P786D7G3S002
The last thought that went through the Admiral's mind before he lost consciousness was one of great unease rather than terror. The engine of his craft was manufactured under the strictest of conditions, so many safety protocols that every nut and bolt was inspected many times before completion. If there was anything that Command Centre was the best at it was their security, bordering on paranoia. Even the Admiral had not even a clue where it was located, let alone spies and insurgents.
The engine type of his craft was a Lux-IV, the standard for most military vessels, known for its reliability with chances of spontaneous failure less than one in several trillion. Therefore, despite the Admiral's vehement denial, he was left unwillingly to face the only truth that remained: sabotage.
He barely had time to register this fact before the shockwave broke through his aura defenses and rendered him unconscious. Ossilia, still in her quarters and much further from the engine room 'only' suffered a severe concussion. But even she was barely holding on, blood-red energy undulating and rippling around her recumbent body in an instinctual response to her agony.
With the main engines utterly destroyed, along with the rear half of the vessel, there was no hope of salvaging the situation. What emergency measures previously in place had long been rendered useless and with no engine, there was no power either. Horizontal momentum kept the craft going for some time but it was not long until the inevitability of physics kicked in and it began to spiral into descent.
Accelerating past what seemed rational, it broke free from the storm system just about 1,000 feet above ground, trailing dark-grey smog. Terminal velocity had long been reached and the craft left a trail of vaporised mist in its path as it boiled the rain on contact. Lightning flashed once and the silhouette of the falling craft was highlighted against the menacing clouds.
The lightning was still forking among the clouds above as the ship smashed into the ground with a deafening boom. Going from Mach 50, a completely illogical speed for any sane physicist, to Mach 0 in a few milliseconds does tend to cause some slight discomfort.
The thermal shielding that had withstood the high temperatures of re-entry instantly combusted. The Iron V chassis melted into a slag heap that promptly bubbled away into plasma as a shockwave expanded, flattening the trees around. The following explosion lit up the newly-formed valley like a false sun, utterly atomizing everything within a semi-spherical crater 500 feet deep and creating a mushroom cloud thousands of feet tall.
Despite the veritably cataclysmic explosion that occurred, the supernatural storm system somehow absorbed and dispersed the energy of the mushroom cloud, obscuring it completely from any prying eyes. The only indication the crash had even occurred was a slight twitch in a few seismometers, quickly dismissed as anomalies by scientists across the planet.
The rain continued its downpour unfazed, sizzling as it rapidly cooled the viscous molten rock in the crater. Gradually, as the smoke and steam dispersed, the aftermath could be seen. All that remained was a humongous crater of glassy smooth rock, obsidian-black. No remains of the craft could be seen, no doubt utterly obliterated and dispersed into the atmosphere by the monumentous explosion. The seemingly omnipresent rain fell into the crater, rivulets building into small streams as it filled up the unnatural basin.
Just like that, any signs of the apocalyptic crash were wiped clean, the presence of a new lake only confusing a few of the more adventurous creatures close enough to see the bright light yet far enough that they shockwave and heat was dispersed by the storm. Even that interest quickly waned as the storm continued its incessant downpour unfazed.
about 3 seconds earlier...
Without his aura to protect him without conscious input, the Admiral's now limp body was completely flattened against the back of his seat. The g-force dampeners had long since been deployed, though such a situation was far beyond their capabilities. As the Admiral fell unconscious, his unwillingness slowly faded from his eyes. Suddenly, something flickered on his forehead before lighting up a mysterious silver. The symbol of a crescent moon shone on his forehead, its dim light barely perceptible in the dark cabin like a candle about to go out.
Just as the light was about to wane, the familiar sound of rushing sand filled the cabin as a circular, swirling portal appeared behind his seat. The majestic aura emitted almost seemed to quieten the storm itself, before lightning began flashing even more vigorously as though refusing to be intimidated. Yet, in the cabin at least, all became silent as the figure emerged from the sand.
As the figure was fully revealed, the storm seemed to clear for a split second despite its thunderous protests, allowing a singular moonlit beam to illuminate the falling craft, painting a contrasting image of serenity among chaos. Abruptly, the storm lashed out against the suppression, the sound of breaking glass echoed as an invisible barrier shattered, the wind howling nature's wrath at being cowed. For once, an expression other than disdain flashed in the unfathomable eyes of Kyrnos as he spared a glance out of the shattered craft into the raging storm outside.
He turned back, his gaze seemingly piercing through what remained to the cabin to fall upon the figure of Ossilia. As he did so, the portal behind him collapsed, the sand flowing over both the Admiral and Ossilia's figure. Kyrnos' eyes flashed and their figures disappeared from the craft, milliseconds before it crashed.
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Far from that place, Kyrnos reappeared amidst a swirl of sand atop a desert dune with the Admiral and Ossilia in tow. He stared for a while in the direction of the storm system now far beyond the horizon with an unusually serious expression, before shaking his head and turning towards the slowly stirring Admiral.
"Be wary, Admiral, only once more can I be summoned", Kyrnos' deep baritone sounded. "I fear this planet hides more that even I can see through. Both opportunity and disaster coexist here". His gaze was piercing as he looked down at the Admiral. "I hope we next meet under better circumstances".
His final words seemed to echo as the Admiral struggled to get up. By the time his head had cleared enough to ask what happened, Kyrnos had disappeared, no evidence remaining of his arrival. Ossilia remained unconscious, no doubt still suffering the after-effects of her concussion.
Groggily, the Admiral stood up on shaking knees, dusting sand off his charred uniform. Looking around, far to his right, the twinkling lights of a city could be seen. Wherever Kyrnos had brought them, it was far enough from the storm that a few hours still remained of daylight.
'It'll take us at least a day to recover', the Admiral thought, 'our clothes should keep us warm throughout the night and emergency supplies should last until we reach the city
'The only issue is, for a betrayal of such magnitude, who knows if the Alliance outpost on this planet can even be trusted?'
Shaking his head, he removed a flat pack from his inside pocket and threw it to the floor. A metallic tent sprung up around them before shimmering and turning a sandy colour. Ossilia was still recovering in the corner, her blood-red energy forming an impenetrable cocoon around her.
The tent was deceptively large inside, enough space for both of them comfortably. The Admiral, however, had no intentions of sleeping.
'Is it worth it sending an emergency alert? All other craft perished in the storm, so I am most likely missing presumed dead.' A grim smile spread on the Admiral's face, 'There are certain benefits of anonymity ascribed to being presumed dead. Perhaps it's better to start investigations this way.
'If it really comes down to it, I can at least attempt to contact Akilah. First things first, though: we need to reach the nearest city alive'.
A clear plan formulated in the Admiral's mind as he meditated, slowly regaining his lost strength. A feeling of clear relief spread throughout his body as aura flushed through, slowly mending torn muscles and fractured bones. He felt a flicker from his moon-pact as the penultimate string snapped, strengthening the silver colour of his aura. Flowing through his body, it gave his aura a feeling of majesty, though incomparable to Kyrnos, enough that he could feel the Fifth Shackle weakening.
Taking advantage of this opportunity, he cycled his aura at an increasing speed, drawing forth what little reserves he had recovered. He found that his breakthroughs rarely occurred when he was in best condition: only after teetering on the brink of death would his Shackles weaken.
Soon, his aura gained such momentum that the sound of roaring torrents could faintly be heard within the tent. Unbeknownst to anyone, Ossilia's cocoon rippled seemingly in response as she stirred in her deep sleep. Once the maximum strength was reached, he directed his aura into his heart.
A light-grey ethereal shackle manifested in his internal sight, while images of four others broken and tattered flashed before disappearing. A misty fog hung forebodingly around his heart-region with the promise of more Shackles to descend.
Channeling his strength, he flooded his aura into his heart muscle, dramatically increasing the vigour of its beats. His blood took on a hint of that silver majesty as it circulated strongly around his body, accelerating his healing substantially. His heart muscle strained against its chains, but the Shackle was not to be so easily defeated. Its light-grey chains tightened and a sharp pain flooded the Admiral's mind, snapping him out of his meditative state.
He gritted his teeth, holding back a hiss of pain. The Shackle gave no respite for his brief lapse in concentration, its contraction threatening to pierce his heart fully. Unable to hold back, the Admiral lifted his head and roared in pain, sweat on his forehead dripping into his stinging eyes.
'More, I need more!', he thought desperately. He channeled his will to break through the pain and, with a momentous effort, his heart beat once under the Shackle's suppression. With the contraction of its straining muscle, cracks began to appear in the illusory chain, leaking mist that added to the ominously hanging cloud of fog. Once again, his heart beat, louder and stronger than the first. As it did, the silver colour of his blood became more pronounced, beginning to exert its own force on the binding shackle.
Slowly, the cracks began to expand, the trickle of leaking mist becoming into a veritable flood. Abruptly, a shrill sound penetrated directly into the Admiral's mind as the chains sheared and snapped, disappearing fully into the fog. A familiar feeling of euphoria spread through the Admiral's body, as though the weight of the world had been taken from his shoulders.
His heart beat firmly without the suppression of the Shackle, supplying his aura with more power than ever before. The silver tint also remained in his blood, with it coming almost a new vision altogether. For the first time, his internal sight could begin to see the moon-pact within his glabella. When he turned his sight there, what he saw took his breath away: a dizzying complex of runes that spiraled endlessly inward toward the hovering image of a full moon. Its majesty was so great that only after a few seconds did he realise that it seemed faint, some runes flickering as though barely intact.
Before he could explore further, his attention was ripped away, back towards his heart-region. The hovering fog had taken on a more solid colour than before, losing much of its illusive nature.
'The Sixth Shackle is supposedly the last, although no contractor has reached this level in the Alliance records', the Admiral thought.
Almost on cue, the fog condensed into a another shackle, bound by dark-grey chains. They circled around his heart before tightening suddenly. They did not become uncomfortably tight yet however, just enough to constantly remind him of their presence.
With their appearance, the surrounding fog had diminished considerably, returning to its previous, ephemeral nature. Suddenly feeling the fatigue of the past day, the Admiral gave up on keeping watch for the night, trusting the proximity alarms of the tent to do their job.
Taking a sleeping bag out, as soon as he lay down, his consciousness slipped into the deep, dreamless sleep of sheer exhaustion.
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"Some places are just weird, yaknow?"
- Jophysus of the Outer Reaches, Archive File #P786D7G4S002