The Eleventh Entry

The clue’s destination grew closer with each passing minute as the Harrower propelled itself through space. My mind remained focused on my task, my quest, yet it also still wandered. A name haunted me, my fingers curling against the slab throne of the meditation chamber. Nothing had changed, yet everything had.

Aberus appeared before me, kneeling in the singular emanating light.

“My Lord, before you begin again your quest – I have a request from the Obelisk.” Aberus said, pausing and looking up at me from beneath the hood.

I absently nodded with approval.

Aberus continued: “A world not far from here is currently contested by the Host, and it is having difficulty taking what remains of the sentients that occupy that galaxy. The initial influence appears to have failed to incite believers and spread our husks; the sentients seem to have some form of mind shield which countered our efforts. The situation required a more direct approach, and the Obelisk obliged. They are cornered, but a layered planetary shield system stops most of our attacks. It allows their fleet to fire from several layers deep and remain out of harms way, which is also reinforced by dozens of orbital cannons and ground cannons.”

“Eventually they will break under our numbers, regardless of how endless their supply may seem. Their numbers are limited, ours are not.” I responded.

“Yes, normally I would not bring this matter to you, however, as I said before this is a request from the Obelisk. It has requested that you oversee this matter personally.”

I felt my mind strain for a moment before returning to my quiet composure.

“Very well, I will make a detour.”

As if speaking directly to the pilot, the shuttle shook lightly as it changed direction.

“Thank you, My Lord.” Aberus said while bowing.

Aberus’s timing was impeccable, the detour only lasted a few minutes before reaching the contested system. I moved from the meditation chamber through the cargo/ramp room to the cockpit and Aberus followed behind.

The planet shimmered in an invisible glow; the layered shields completely naked to the eye, the only indicator a network of energized pylons. Large cannon instillations gathered around the pylons tethering themselves through a network of cables, which appeared to provide a supply of energy for the weapons, and should one fail or be destroyed - then their energy was passed to the next instillation. A gilded silver fleet of vessels sat quietly behind the second layer of pylons, a range of corvettes and frigates to a singular large battlecruiser at its center. The sun radiated off their sheen silver plating, and their blistering turrets.

In the shadow of the almost celestial like planet was one of the many innumerable fleets of the Host, its vessels blotted out much of the galaxy in their direction. In the front of the fleet, countless frigates covered in a mesh of hardened flesh and plating. In the back were the cruisers and carriers, made to destroy most fleets due to sheer numbers in firepower and fighter craft. The frigates acted as transports for most of the Host, ranging from the lowest Husk to the towering Cybermorphs.

A large number of frigates began moving, pushing forward in a slow manner and grouping together. Another purpose, perhaps one of the most important, of the frigates were their piercing ability – crafted to spear head into buildings, bunkers, ships, and anything else that stood as a target. It was then, when the target was pierced, that the frigates would deliver their payload. These frigates poised themselves to do the same to the energy shields. Debris, however, in front of the first layer accounted the number of attempts to do so.

“The Host fleet is preparing to assault the shield, My Lord.” Aberus said beside me.

I merely nodded in acknowledgement.

Aberus was quiet a moment, before saying: “Forgive me, My Lord, but I must say you appear distracted. Is there something on your mind? I am your Keeper – you can ask me anything.”

I too was silent, taking a moment to gather my thoughts.

“If you were angry – angry beyond what words could be written or spoken to a point of hollowness: what would you do?” I asked watching the fleet move into position.

Aberus said nothing, perhaps shocked by the question, then tenderly answered: “I would scream. Scream until I could no longer do so, until my suffering could not be mistaken for indecision.”

“I see.” I responded.

The Host frigates moved quickly into position and began their charge towards the shield.

“Begin the exiting sequence and lower the ramp.” I commanded and walked into the ramp area.

Aberus watched from beyond the cockpit door before it sealed. The room depressurized and the ramp lowered into the darkness of space.