Two figures of both genders and much larger then her approached. They said she should go with them and not to be afraid. Then mentioned they were gathering the others. This all just incited more anger. But these ass clowns she figured were just the dogs on the chain not the master. Best to just follow for now. She wanted to splatter their brains on the wall, that however was a short solution to her anger with likely deadly ramifications. She followed and soon was teleported to the founder.
The other twelve were on this high tech ship as well. Gathering all thirteen and placing them in one place like they had right to command their fates. Observing the various holo screens Cloe felt he needed a new one. Right here in this damn room. They seamed to think they were insuring a better future for orphaned races. It made the scientist Syma spit at the leaders boot in disgust. Her outrage blazed in her eyes with a grievous rage. To make matters worse the leader addressed one of them more so then all of them. Then he, or maybe it, no matter spoke. Then he called her impure. She had imaginative day dreams of driving the scalpel in her hand into his skull and scooping out his brain matter.
“First of all don’t come to any of us with some ‘don’t be afraid bull shit’ Founder.” There was a particular bite to her tone when she said his name. “Most of us just saw thousands if not millions of us die. Others are being informed of it just now! Sorry by the way guys.” The siren taking a moment to speak to the others. “Then you have the damn audacity to bring us all to one point. Which is dealing with a war! Yeah let’s bring a war torn near extinct species into another war brilliant!” She straightened her clothing trying to dial down her obvious aggression a bit.
“My apologies Grand Jack Ass Finder, my name is Cloesevet but you can just call me Haven. Why because you don’t have a right to call me by my real name. And don’t come at be with the ‘impure’ speech. Mum was a Syma dad was a Syma of a long line of pure Syma’s. I’m a siren, like the pirate over Earth. That genetic make up gave me a sort of pardon from the damned psychic bombardment that killed some quadrillion people. I want to thank you for collecting us all by the damn way.” Her eyes drifted to the smallest and most innocent survivor Nepeta. “Sev and I had tried to place her out of reach deep near the core of a Syma world. We were hoping we could hide her until whatever attacked us was dealt with. A insurance plan that you just ruined. Good going genius. Lastly don’t worry about our nations assets Kayle is taking them.” The brief remark telling of the brilliance behind the feisty teen, in seconds from a single monitor she knew that Kayle was constructing an intricate A.I.
She sighed in weariness. “Look I’m not sorry for being bitter, but please be lenient it’s a stressful day. Seeing as where now collected do we get like special gear. Or maybe an idea of what will be doing? Can’t afford to bum rush the enemy.”
Cloesevet the daughter of Sev was on the Baleful Gaze examining the corpse of a Tallonian when it happened. For years Sev told her of a day one of his lovers, Cloe’s mother, said would come. A day when the Symaarian population would be wiped out by a psychic storm like no other. A cosmic anomaly of catastrophic proportions. Together the pair had made a back up plan the siren and her father having something in place in a final effort to prevent that monstrosities awakening. However never in all her sixteen years had she expected for this to happen so soon. She thought there would be more time, thought she would be ready. Instead her heart was virtually ripped in half.
The small blade cleaved through the exoskeletal like frame being studied. Around her were the people she called friends, who she practically called family. Studies were underway to access the enemy and perhaps develop biological weaponry. That was a favorite study of hers, the adaptation of weaponry to target genetics or DNA. In the labs back round was a sort of electro pop equivalent of music to the Symaarian people. War and conflict were home to the Symaarian people. The sounds of cannon fire echoing in the ship was rhythmic to the yellow eyed technician and the others. This was for all purposes a ‘really a good day to be a Symaa’ Cloesevet thought. Then everything went dark.
Waking up moments later she was met by the flickering lights of back up batteries. Struggling to her feet she soon ended up tripping. Reaching down to catch herself she felt spit coat her hand. The teen reared backwards in a scream of terror. She found herself staring at Markevis Osenberg she had a crush on him once like three years ago even. Now his body was twisted in a position of absolute agony. The fall had smashed his head into a lab desk and cracked his skull like an egg. Ichor seeped from the opening like running yoke. This was just one though, a single person. Beside him was Seranien, Igabud, Esleyna, Reseben, his brother Raseben, Velcena and more. This couldn’t be happening, she had to go check on Ersevik. This had to be a accident, a stray cannon round. A breach in the hull. A collision. That bastard couldn’t of released the psychic wave already. She needed more time! This could not be happening.
In a fit of rage and disbelief scalpel and a bolt pistol in hand the siren ran down the corridors. Her knuckles were white, desperate to think this had to just be a part of the attack. Check on the family then go to the security room. Mount the offensive and defensive machines again. This had to be an attack it could not be anything else, she had this covered. The more she ran though the more bodies the flickering lights revealed. Agonized spasms caused weapon discharges peppering the walls with holes and blood. From these wounds and psychic bombardments the bodies littered the domain. Nobody was left. Everything behind her in front of her, to the left and right. Just dead. Her spirit seemed to be falling apart like shattered glass just falling shard by shard bit by bit. Clumsy gilt and grief ridden feet finally came to a halt.
That shattered glass fell completely, with nothing left in it’s frame. Her little brother eight years old, Ersevik laid in a twisted mess. Writhing in pain his arms had been snapped out of place. His body bent backwards and in an impossible arch. His eyes dim and lost, wide in terror. Beside him not far off on the couch was Seleva Esevik’s mother, who might as well have been Cloe’s own. She had emptied a bolter into her head, she was barely even recognizable. Others were there to family and friends one an all. Seeing Seleva and Esevik though were what broke her. Rivers flowed down her cheeks in pain. Still she couldn’t bare to except the reality.
Struggling to her feet the siren rushed to the security room. Granted at this point a rush was a casual and sluggish walk. It was just to hard to run or be swift any more, she couldn’t keep eyes wide and alert. She didn’t want to look at the faces anymore. Couldn’t stand to see the corpses any more. Reaching the security room revealed more dead they’d fallen like the rest. Here it was that she could see all the rooms and corridors of the Baleful Gaze. No damage was done to the ship it was intact. No indication of alien intrusion of any kind. What hit them was not the Higharchy. Nobody was alive, nobody breathed, nobody moved. This was it, her entire race had been cut down to twelve people. She was alone. Her hand twitched shaking as the gun was lifted to her temple. For the life of her though she couldn’t get her index on the trigger moving so hard to do at all. It took two minutes just to get a actual grip and she was just about to squeeze when she saw her.
Kayle Rez was still on board and not being a Symaarian alive. The side armed dropped just from the shock that her fathers idol was here. Cloe though in a ball in the corner of the room, with yellow eyes stained by the amount of tears, would not end her life. Then they came, people here for her. People fetching the twelve. “What the fuck do you want?”
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