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Wrath of the Puppet Master
Act 3: Chap 15- Star Listener

Act 3: Chap 15- Star Listener

Captain Sterin sat in her throne, gazing out upon the rainbow-colored tunnel of light that spanned out before the windows of her bridge. She had not moved for a whole day. No sleep, no food, no water, no bathroom breaks. She remained seated on the leathery throne as a stone monument sat upon a shrine, her thumbs pressed against her cheek bones as her folded hands shrouded her lower face, her vacant eyes staring into the abys, her legs criss crossed with her elbows snugged deeply in the inside pockets of her knees.

Miken and the scientists had narrowly survived the failed Shrike take over, as the Spree had spent the last thirty hours purging every nook and cranny of the ship. But that wasn’t Captain Sterin’s concern, as she roiled in pain, and sorrow. She had lost her lovers, her brother, a good portion of her crew, and most likely her fleet. The full power of Shrike having now been realized; she knew her fleet might as well been lost. As soon as they left the portal, the infected ships would engage her loyal ships with boarding craft, spreading the infection that was Shrike and his minions. The Exelon was now the last ship within her control, as she couldn’t warn her captains of the imminent doom.

An impossible choice stood before her as she contemplated for a day and a half. Abandon the mission, save her fleet by going from ship to ship, bay to bay, room to room, and purging her ships of the infection of Shrike’s influence. Or continue onward, find the relic, and deliver it to the humans before Shrike was able to feed off them at the trap known as Barouge.

In either scenario, she lost most of her friends, ships, crews, and profit. What it boiled down to, was save herself and recover most of her fleet, or face what was coming.

“Sister?” a male voice asked softly.

Sterin was silent, as she stared into the portal.

Miken slowly walked up to her left side. His blue dyed hair poofy, black eyeliner, pale skin, skinny body, perfectly identical to Aine as he stood nervously. He was clad in body armor, a sword and rifle by his side as he nervously looked at her.

“We are sending him off today,” Miken mumbled.

Sterin was silent.

“I suppose, you don’t mourn because we will see him in the next life,” Miken sighed.

“There is no next life after this,” Sterin croaked, her voice cracking from lack of use.

“What?” Miken blustered.

Her decision was made.

Sterin pushed herself off the throne, her bones cracking as she stretched.

“Would you like us to get you some water? Maybe some food, the funeral can wait,” Miken said hurriedly.

“Take me to him,” Sterin growled.

Miken hesitantly nodded and led the way down the destroyed bridge. As Sterin followed him, the Spree manning the consoles nodded, or saluted. They barely understood the technology in front of them but manned it none the less after seeing their captain in such a disarray. The humans and Laydren had all been nearly wiped out by Shrike, a mere fraction of them left perhaps fifty or so as their peers had been transformed into his replicants. Large majority was what was left was Sterin, Miken, the Scientists, and the Spree who seemed to have a remarkable resistance to cloning procedures.

Sterin and Miken stepped into the elevator, and the doors shut as Sterin stood perfectly still in place, staring at the steel. Miken nervously leaned against the wall, studying her with his darting glowing grey eyes.

“It’s not your fault,” Miken mumbled.

“Speak again and I will rip your tongue out of your face with hot plyers,” Sterin spat.

Miken softly nodded, looking at the floor. The elevator stopped and opened on the mid-level. They walked out, into the open fighter bay. The amassed crew parted like a great sea, nearly a thousand remaining within the giant bay as Sterin and Miken strolled forward.

The fighter hold was lined with craft, large mountains of storage bins and containers littering the warehouse like area. On either side of the walls, large energy shields of purple where spanning from floor to ceiling, from which fighters could launch out of. On the far side, a fighter catapult had been loaded with a large shipping pallet of coffins. The fighter catapult was a hundred-foot-long pully system built into the floor, mimicking aircraft carriers of Earth, designed to launch fighters manned by particle manipulators at breakneck speed so they could focus on getting their weapons ready instead of takeoff.

Chief Baba stood with his officers by the catapult launch system. He nodded gracefully as Sterin strutted past him. Miken trailed off, joining Baba, the few remaining Laydren Officers, and the scientists. Sterin stopped and stood by the metal coffin marked Aine.

It lay on the farthest end of the hundred-foot storage pallet, alone, the others stacked on top of each other. Sterin’s lip trembled as she lay her hand on the coffin, bowing her head. She looked up, retraced the hand, looked at Baba, and nodded.

The Spree chief called a command, and the crew within the control center pushed buttons. Sending the cargo pallet hurtling forward. The heavy silence was crushed by the metal groaning and shriek as the pallet ejected from the side of the ship, into the portal verse, where it burst into flames.

Sterin turned to her crew.

“We don’t cry for or mourn our dead. I told each and everyone one of you when you signed up that if you died, I’d fling your rotting corpse into the unforgiving universe, where’d your ashes be cast upon the stars and emptiness of space,” Sterin roared.

The eyes of the crew lay upon her, human, Laydren, mostly Spree eyes all gazing at her and melting her soul.

“But this one is different. None of these crewmates deserved this. I lost a brother, you lost friends, we all lost shipmates. Not one person in this crowd can step forward and tell me they did not lose someone close to them in this ambush!” Sterin cried out, her voice breaking.

The crew was silent.

“We are going to this back water planet, when we arrive, Shrike will have most likely overran the Blood Maw, and within an hour, he will have the rest of our sister ships. We will have to complete the mission, alone,” Sterin sighed.

Soft murmuring rang out from the crew.

“We are now at the frontlines of a war that has raged since the celestial father scorned our people, the Laydren. If we do not retrieve this item, Mankind will fail, our kind will fall, and he will return!” Sterin shouted.

The crew shifted uneasily.

“I am asking you to follow me to this planet and help stop these maniacs from turning the rest of the galaxy into Barouge,” Sterin called.

“We won’t abandon ship!” a crewmen called.

“I’m not saying we’ll run!” Sterin spat.

The crew erupted into shouts and complaints from the humanoid crew, as the Spree sat silently, watching her with wide eyes.

“Friends! Friends!” Miken shouted, stepping forward in front of the crowd.

Sterin eyed him angrily, what was he doing?

“I will stay with the brave souls who volunteer and guard the Exelon from our turned sister ships. We shall hold the line, as we have always done, while our brave Captain descends to the planet’s surface, and turns the tide of the war!” Miken shouted.

Sterin crossed her arms, looking at the crew.

“With your permission, Captain?” Miken asked, looking at her.

Sterin hotly nodded.

“So, we are retrieving something?” Professor Malcolm meekly called from the crowd.

“Yes we fucking are. You don’t have to like Zion, but if you don’t want your precious Earth suffering the same fate as Barouge I suggest helping us,” Sterin spat.

“What are we retrieving captain?” Sage chimed.

“A power reservoir most likely hidden underground, that’s why the Queen of Zion commissioned your talent. I failed you all, I don’t deserve to ask any more from you, but I am. Will you follow me?” she asked.

Malcom looked at Sage and Emur, then nodded. Chief Baba tapped the ground with the butt of his cane.

“We defend ship. Oog bay more zah,” the chief called.

“Zuh wah!” the Spree crew chanted in a low tone.

Sterin strutted forward and put a hand on Miken’s shoulder.

“If we don’t succeed, the Celestial Father returns, and there will be no more lives for us,” Sterin murmured.

“I understand. We won’t fail you sister,” Miken nodded grimly.

Sterin studied the crew.

“Prepare yourselves, we make planet fall soon!” she roared.

The crew dispersed, as each person hurried away to arm themselves. Chief Baba walked over, studying them.

“How shall we land?” Emur echoed in their minds.

Sterin looked at Miken who grinned.

“The boarding shuttles are still intact. You can used those,” he said.

“How many crew can you spare?” Sterin asked.

“I can spare ten humans, two of the Laydren officers, and a hundred Spree. I need everyone else if we’re going to properly maneuver the ship,” Miken nodded.

“Good enough, gonna have to be fast and mobile then. Can you guys keep up?” Sterin arched an eyebrow.

“Perhaps it would be best for us to stay on the ship and transmit translations, Captain?”

“Yeah, might be best, but what if they scramble comms?” Miken asked.

“We do not need your communications equipment to transmit, if you allow yourself to join our network,” Emur softly whispered in their minds.

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“I don’t like where this is going,” Malcom mumbled.

“Fine. But if you fuckers stay in my head past the mission, I’m going to cut you out. I hope your people haven’t forgotten the last time you overstayed your welcome in a Laydren Priests head,” Sterin snarled.

“We have not forgotten the pillaging of our sacred grounds,” Emur angrily whispered.

“In their last war, the Laydren burned an entire planet for the Umar trying to hack into their main servers,” Sage nodded to Malcom.

“We did a whole lot more than that,” Sterin grimaced, remembering the burning cities.

“Perhaps humanity has more in common with our neighbors than we were led to believe,” Malcom sighed.

“Welp, bring it on mushroom. Clocks ticking,” Sterin sighed.

Emur slowly slunk forward, the person tall pile of fungus pulsing with its green and yellow patches of mucus covered slime. Sterin wrinkled her nose as a green tentacle whipped around from Emur, slowly approaching her temple. The slimy tentacle made contact, and her vision went blank.

She was suspended in darkness when a green and purple glow emerged before her. It started out slow but rose higher as the sound of millions of voices overlapping each other grew. A wall of dim orbs where slowly coming towards her like a looming sandstorm. The voices slowly unified, as the billions of orbs gathered around her.

“Star Listener,” the million voices whispered.

“Hello Umar,” Sterin called.

The orbs shifted, coming together. Sterin watched in awe as the orbs became a single mass, forming a giant the size of a planet, suspended in darkness. It had eight arms, four legs, eighteen tentacles, ten glowing green eyes. Its skin was made of mountains, trees, oceans, fauna, and fungus. The single mind with a trillion voices, the Umar.

“It has been some time, since a descendant of the Celestial Father has entered our domain, in peace,” the giant softly whispered.

“These are troubled times,” Sterin sighed, her voice echoing in the void.

She ignited her energy, exposing her highest form.

“Why do you help the humans, yet feign a disdain for them?” Umar asked gently.

“Why does the master spit upon the slaves that tend to his fields? He is above them, yet still sees to their needs,” Sterin shrugged.

“Yet, you love them. Why do single minded beings speak a lie that shadows the hand they extend to help those, they deem less worthy?”

“Because we’re better than them,” Sterin spat.

“Why?”

“Because we were created to guide them!”

“Why?”

“Because they’re too stupid to achieve anything on their own!”

“Do you truly believe this?”

Sterin sighed angrily.

“I didn’t allow you to talk to me to be lectured about philosophy. Are you going to help me back into the physical realm or not?” Sterin called.

“Your self-hatred blinds you to their potential. The Ethereals are slowly mending their ways, perhaps the next chapter in the annals of your people’s fate, shall be heralded by humans,” Umar said kindly.

“What do you know of our fate? Where was the Umar during the wars? Where were you when our galaxies burned?!” Sterin shrieked.

“We were always here, watching. We were young when your father created your kind. His sister created us, we remember watching form our nursery as Alpha Centurion held the hand of the first Laydren, walking with them in the Golden Halls of the First. Perhaps his arrival would not be such an unpleasant thing as your wayward houses imagine so?”

“If you are aiding the Axium, I swear upon my ancestors I will burn every last one of your drones,” Sterin snarled.

“The Axium are lost souls, clawing away at life, desperate for power, blinded by their lust for control over their doomed existences. They fail to see what Alpha Centurion truly is, and what he stands for. We do not help them, nor are we actively seek to bring Alpha Centurion to this plane of existence. It is merely an observation, from one who has seen him, and remembers his true teachings which has been corrupted and manipulated over millennia.”

Sterin sighed angrily, a million questions burning in her mind.

“Is he truly as bad as they say he is? Was?” Sterin asked meekly.

“He is the punishment of the universe, the burning scythe that tears down civilizations that prey upon the weak. He is son, heir, and servant of the First, the greatest warrior they sired, and truly master of struggle. He is also the greatest boon to those who deserve, the kindest father, the sincerest alia one could ask for. Wrath, and mercy. Destruction, and guiding lesser unto prosperity. He is both sword, and shield. Judge, observer, and conqueror. The Lord of Order. I fear your people are right to fear his arrival.” Umar whispered.

Sterin didn’t know how to feel about that.

“Can you help me?” Sterin asked.

“Yes child. Why else would we summon you here. The conduit you seek is hidden in a temple buried deep within the bowels of the planet you are headed for. The temple was built by your people, your mother having stored it there. We shall guide you to its gates but cannot help you defeat the sentinels that guard the human’s treasure.”

“Will it really help them fight Alpha Centurion?” Sterin called.

“The human King known as Aryus asked us the same thing once, and we gave him the same answer we shall give you. It will enable the humans to understand what Alpha Centurion truly is,” Umar nodded.

“Good enough,” Sterin sighed.

“Go with our blessing, Star Listener. Your saga is just beginning, the day draws close when you and the banished must return to your people, and restore their honor,” Umar nodded.

“Highly doubtful, but thank you,” Sterin snickered.

The giant smiled, his grin the size of a continent as the vision vanished. Darkness followed by bright light charged her, and the fighter bay came back into view. She wiped the sweat from her brow, as she swayed back and forth. Miken, with wide eyes reached out, and held her steady.

“How long was I out?” Sterin muttered.

“Like a second, he just touched you with that thing,” Malcom said worriedly.

She shook her head; it had felt like hours. She looked at Emur, the faceless plant shifting its weight as the tentacle retracted into its mass.

“Can you hear me?” Sterin thought.

“You voice echoes in our presence, yes,” Emur chuckled.

“Sweat!” Sterin cackled mentally.

She squinted at Malcolm, focusing on his mind.

“You cannot read his mind, merely speak to it,” Emur whispered in her head.

“No fair!” Sterin grimaced.

“Why are you making those faces? You look like your trying to talk without moving your mouth,” Miken chortled.

“Hey fuck face!” Sterin shouted in her mind, focusing on Malcom.

Malcom shrieked, clutching his head as he fell back.

“Get out of my head! Oh my god, why is it so loud! Jesus Christ!” Malcom wailed.

“Lighten up buttercup. All right fuckers, we ready?” Sterin smiled.

“I feel like someone just stabbed my brain,” Malcom moaned, whipping tears from his eyes.

“And that’s why only Star Listeners can speak to the Umar. How close are we Miken?” Sterin smiled.

“We’ll be arriving soon,” Miken nodded.

“Right, let’s do this!” Sterin cackled.

The group dispersed, all heading for the elevator. Sterin strutted forward with purpose, and watched them all clamor in. Emur and Miken took majority of the crew, and took a separate elevator up, Sterin and her party went down deeper into the ship. The elevator doors opened, and she walked down the corridor lined with pipes and wires, illuminated by lights built into the ceiling. The long corridor led to metal double doors, which slid open as the party walked in.

Sterin stood in the center of the large armory, lined with walls of weapons and armor. Her personal Stache. She turned, amused at the scientists’ wide eyes.

“Suite up boys, gonna be a rough mission, so take what you need,” Sterin grinned.

“My personal equipment shall more than prove sufficient for personal defense, but I thank you captain,” Sage chimed as he perched on a bench.

“Suite yourself, Malcom?”

The professor nervously went over to the armor racks and put some a brown plate carrier. He clumsily put it on, then searched for more gear. Sterin rolled her eyes and walked over. She turned him around and tightened up his body armor.

“You left or right-handed?” Sterin asked as she worked.

“Uh, left,” Malcom mumbled, barely a foot from her face.

“Cool, mags go on left, put your medical pouch here on your right. Chin to belly button is your workspace, keep the gear tight and don’t let it get in the way of aiming and reloads,” Sterin said.

She reached over and grabbed a gun belt. She reached behind Malcom and put the belt on him. She looked him in the eyes, and clipped the belt, then tightened it. He winced a little as she smiled.

“Is our proposition still in effect?” Malcom asked.

“Now what kinda guy askes a gal who just lost her lovers that kinda question? Mmm?” Sterin arched an eyebrow.

She grabbed the plate carrier, and leaned him in close, a few inches from her face.

“Be a good brave little boy, survive, and I might consider it,” She grinned.

“So, you are going to help Earth?” Malcom mumbled nervously.

She rolled her eyes as she shoved him away.

“Of all the men they could have sent me, it had to be the only one who somehow doesn’t think with his dick,” Sterin spat, walking away.

“What? Wait, I mean, hold on!” Malcom blustered.

Sage was clutching their chest as they bellowed with laughter. The navigator’s grey skin shinning underneath their cloak as their multiple arms and bowed legs bounced, a wide smile framed by Sage’s oval eyes which were squinted from mirth.

“Can it dickless!” Sterin growled, walking over to her gear.

“What’d I do?!” Sage howled with laughter.

“Your face is annoying,” Sterin snarled.

She sighed and pulled her jacket off. She pressed a button built into the metal wall, and it separated. A secret room was revealed and both Malcom’s and Sage’s eyes widened as they saw the armor and weapons. Sterin liked using human armament, but she’d need proper equipment for what lay in store.

Laying on the armor stand, was Sterin’s personal Star Listener battle armor. An intricate, beautiful silver and blue armor set, the surface interwoven with beautiful metal carvings depicting heroes of Laydra, with blue and gold paint designs covering the shinning smooth metal surface. It was the strongest and most flexible armor set the smiths had made for the High Priestess, intended to be given to Sterin on the day she replaced her mother.

Naturally she had snuck into the temple and had stolen the armor after being banished. Sterin stripped down to her underwear, then ignited her energy. The metal armor dissolved like water and flowed unto the ground, climbing up her body. There it reformed, fitting her well-built form perfectly, as it self-adjusted to her every movement.

Sterin took the two swords from the wall and gazed at them. Each was one sided, intended for slashing, with the tips razor sharp, perfect for puncturing the thickets armor. She sheathed these on either side of her belt, then grabbed the helmet still sitting on the top of the stand.

The magnificent silver and blue helmet had an ornate bronze colored face mask, with sensors covering the eyes. The head was plumed by the small metal figurate of a falling star, the metal transitioning into a blue feather that gracefully trapsed down nape of the neck. She held the helmet in the crook of her arm as she turned.

Both Sage’s and Malcom’s jaws where dropped.

“What?” Sterin shrugged.

“I have heard tales of Laydren craftsmanship, but have never laid eyes upon it,” Sage said in awe.

“You look stunning. Like the armor of European Kings of old,” Malcom murmured.

“Yeah, yeah, c’mon. We got a temple to raid,” Sterin huffed.

Sterin prowled back the way they came, down the corridor, and entered the elevator. They hurtled downward, this time arriving at a new floor which housed the boarding craft. The elevator doors opened, and a mob of Spree in their native armor turned. Their eyes where wide as they murmured, parting for their captain.

The bay was wide, and tall, with landing crafted parked bumper to bumper, the smaller cargo bay door at the far end. The main cargo hold was right below them, this section of the ship used for launching the troop transports.

The crew bowed their heads in respect as Sterin strutted forward, towards the lead landing craft. Once outside the open vehicle door, she turned to the crew.

“Happy hunting, lets avenge our friends and kill some fuckers!” Sterin shouted, holding her fist over her head.

“ZU WAH!” the Spree chanted, sprinting to the vessels and boarding.

Sterin turned and walked inside the shuttle, sitting down on the built-in bench. Malcom and Sage sat across from her, as Laydren and human crew members piled in. A Laydren officer handed her an earpiece, and Sterin snugged it into her right ear, the speaker crackling with feedback.

“Can you hear me?” Miken’s voice asked over the radio earpiece.

“Loud and clear,” Sterin nodded.

“Is our voice reaching you, child?” Umar’s voice echoed in her mind.

“Sure is,” Sterin thought.

“Do not venture far from our drone, it must stay within range of the planet, else our voice shall not reach you,” Umar echoed.

Sterin nodded, as she leaned back unto the shuttle wall. The shuttle’s door closed, as the engines revved, the fuselage vibrating from the gears winding up.

“What does zu wah mean?” Malcom asked over the noise.

“Spree just speak gibberish, allowing their pheromones and body language to communicate for them,” Sage said.

“I understand that, but what is it they are conveying?” Malcom arched an eyebrow.

“For her,” Sterin sighed, picking her nails.

Malcom and Sage both looked at her with wide eyes.

“One of these days captain, you must regale us with how you earned such ferocious loyalty from such a, um, rather unique species,” Sage said.

“They’re not as savage as you think. I just treat them like people,” Sterin shrugged.

“We are the few unique Laydren who treat our Spree well,” one of the Laydren officers nodded.

“Aye, but there’s a reason they call the Captain the Spree listener,” one of the humans grinned.

“We have arrived, permission to disembark?” Miken called over the net.

“Send it,” Sterin barked.

The shuttle shuttered as it lifted off the ground.

“Good luck, Star Listener,” Umar whispered in her mind.

Sterin’s gloves reformed over her hands as she straightened up in her seat. The shuttle propelled forward and hurtled out into space. Sterin peered out the window and saw the twenty other craft following. As the shuttles disembarked, bright red flashes illuminated the air.

The Blood Maw was unleashing its four decks of guns into the Exelon, launching their own shuttles. The other ships, confused by this, where calling on the radio trying to make sense of things. Sterin turned her attention to the planet, trusting in Miken to sort out the mess. As they hurtled downward, the green jungle planet rushed to greet them, the continent sized storms thundering and flashing all over the massive planet as they made planet fall unto Jorfin Five Dash Three. Unease writhed in Sterin’s mind as she watched the shuttles race the Shrike craft to the surface. What lay in store for them?