"The Helot Worlds, a dark collection of planets inimical to life and utterly indifferent to the struggles of man. Far from the core of the Inaius cluster, this troubled sector has lain undiscovered for millenia, mysteries and secrets left buried in the dark void between worlds. The arrival of humanity is a recent event, the great colony ships leaving Tellus and embarking on a fifty-year voyage. It has been centuries since the Dread Tsar defeated the aberrant and forged the dynasty, his subjects speak his name with reverence and dread each day and pray his like will never grace the stars again, but the struggle is far from over and many terrors lurk in the dark"
The Frontier of the Helot Worlds
Near the Orzak cloud
The Burya burned through the tar black of the void with murderous intent, the vast warships wings bristling with open gun bays as the crew prepared for the coming slaughter. In the distance the vast orange of the Orzak cloud loomed, long the final boundary of Dynasty space it was infamous for hiding predatory clans of aliens and bandits alike. The Vulghyr* had hoped to find shelter in the obscuring clouds, but their raids had attracted the attention of a far more terrible beast.
“Anya, how soon till its engines are down?” Petyr asked turning to regard his bridge officer
“Any moment now Hetman, they are bleeding fuel” Anya replied affirmatively
Petyr exhaled a large plume of fragrant smoke from his pipe before setting the ancient thing down on the command thrones holster. He rose and glared at the viewscreen, his mind already working through all necessary calculations. It was an ugly, hulking thing, the sort of craft that had been cobbled together in sheer desperation, a would-be ark to save a dying species from something worse. If Petyr had ever held any sympathy for such beings, it was long dead, they may have been innocent once but now the Vulghyr had well and truly bloodied their claws.
They had led the Burya on a merry chase, weeks of cat and mouse games as the Kozaks* had followed the raiders and their trail of destruction. A bloody collection of gutted stations and ransacked settlements had greeted the Kozaks as they tracked the aliens, the crew growing hungrier for vengeance with each new atrocity witnessed. Now though there was nowhere left to flee and as the alien vessel bled like a wounded leviathan, the Burya closed in for the killing blow.
A fusillade from the Burya’s plasma cannons shrieked across the void, each burning orb impacting with the stricken alien vessel and detonating violently on its surface. Already multiple gaping wounds covered the ancient metal, the anaemic return fire from the aliens’ own weapons bounced harmlessly off the Kozak’s shields, the last act of defiance falling flat as the end approached.
“Their engines are down sir; they are dead in the void”
“Good, prepare the assault shuttles!”
“Sir, want to board them?”
“They owe us a debt in blood, and I intend to personally ensure they repay it” Petyr replied with a wolfish grin as he gathered headed for the turbolift
*****************************************************************************************
The interior of the ancient boarding shuttles was pitch black save for the weak glow of halogen strips and glint of metal as sabres were drawn and plasma cells checked. The craft shook as it swam through the void toward its target, inside men and women went about their rituals of preparation, some prayed, others joked and some stared at faded mementos of distant loves, for Petyr the moment before was always the same.
It had been over forty years since he had left Sivastopol, spent decades stalking the great frontier, decades battling every evil the helot worlds could proffer. In the moments of silence before the killing began his mind’s eye turned always back to that distant memory of home, to the great rolling tides and green skies of Sivastopol. He had been barely a man when he’d left with the Sich, sworn to expand the empress’s domain and to defend its folk, now his oseledets* had long since gone grey.
“Thirty seconds to docking Hetman” the pilot announced over the comms, voice crackling with static
Petyr wondered if anyone back on Sivastopol would even be alive to remember him, his relatives had been hale people, but the tides of that world claimed many. Perhaps he would have been long forgotten now, a footnote or interesting tidbit in his family’s story, perhaps there was no one left even to do that. He pushed the thoughts out of his mind, this was no time for rumination. He slammed the plasma charge into his pistol and grinned as the weapon lit up with eerie green, he was ready.
“The Dead Tsar Sleeps!” he declared as he stood and began to move to the exit ramp
“MAY, WE NOT WAKE HIM!!!” the Sich replied back defiantly
“We have been led on a long chase by these creatures, but now they have nowhere to flee to! Today we will avenge the countless dead, today we show them why the dynasty is eternal! Spare none, they deserve only your steel and your lead!” he declared as the transport erupted in roars of approval
Petyr was now standing at the front of the squad, his wasp fur lined cloak and steel breastplate making him seem gigantic, his already tall frame enhanced by the raiment. There was a thud as the shuttle connected with the hull of the Vulghyr warship, then a sound of drilling and the reek of ozone and molten metal. Moments later the ramp descended to reveal a darkened, wreckage strewn corridor and countless glaring eyes.
“For the Dynasty and the Empress!!!” Petyr roared as he drew his sabre and charged
The response was a booming roar as the Kozaks charged into the fray.
The Sabre bit deep into the creature’s neck, amber hued gored spurting on the bulkheads as its arteries burst, it slumped back mouth agape as its life ebbed away. Around Petyr the boarding teams were making short work of the Vulghyr, they may have been impressive raiders, but they lacked any discipline when confronted by professional fighters. Already Korov and Bogdana were cutting a swathe through the defenders, spent rounds clattering on the ground as their miniguns roared.
Petyr had always sensed something decrepit about the Vulghyr, their elongated forms seemed more suited to exploration or craft than warfare, everything seemed to speak to their desperation. He’d seen the scraps of once pristine clothing, intricate spiral patterns barely visible under all the grime, the delicate flowering forms on the few original parts of their ships and even their elongated quad eyes seemed to possess a sad intelligence.
It was as though they knew they were finished but some last desperate instinct demanded they persist. Something had broken them long ago, made them into the desperate creatures that murdered and stalked across the frontier. Pity had little utility in a boarding action, and these creatures were still killers, the Kozaks lost men as they advanced, pulled down by countless grubby knife hands or blown apart by the burst rounds that the Vulghyr were so fond of, they fought like cornered animals. But they still died, they were outmatched.
They advanced down derelict corridors, the stench of the alien sharp and repugnant as it invaded their nostrils. They passed dilapidated bunk rooms and filth encrusted common areas as they made for the heart of the ship, every surface seemed to tell a story of forgotten glories and of a culture given to elegance rather than atrocity. Nowhere was this more apparent than in the ornately carved doors to the command deck.
“Fancy” Korov muttered with a snort as he nonchalantly attached the breaching charge to the doors
Delicate swirls and elegant hieroglyphs mingled, flecks of violet and azure suggested the door had once been painted. The scene on the door was of a crowds gathered by a beach to welcome a new dawn, a red sun blazed at the centre and a robed Vulghyr in white robes raised his staff in revelation of the suns glory. Was this what they had once been, devout? Ornate? How had such a species fallen so far
“Blow it” Petyr commanded
Korov clicked the switch and the ancient fresco in a superheated explosion as the plasma bomb disintegrated everything in range. The stink of molten bulkhead and scorched air clung to Petyr’s nostrils as they charged through the opening. Inside the command centre the remaining Vulghyr were arrayed around a single command dais, a tall figure in metal armour rose from the throne and drew a needle like blade from its scabbard.
“Death to the alien!!!” Someone roared as the shooting started
Petyr leapt onto the dais with his sabre drawn, the Vulghyr advanced its jagged needle blade shimmering with unnatural energies as it held it aloft. His armour was a burnished chrome hue, one of the few pieces of Vulghyr equipment that looked like it had been maintained. Petyr swung out with his blade, the Vulghyr responded with unnatural speed, sidestepping the swing and thrusting with its own blade, every nerve ending seemed to scream as though aflame as the edge but into Petyr’s side.
Petyr moved back and raised his blade, the two warriors circling each other, his newly gained wound seemed to burn, the energy from the needle tormenting every sense. Petyr had to exert every ounce of will not cry out in agony, he gritted his teeth and focused on his anger instead. The Vulghyr lunged a second time, Petry ducked and brought his blade up as the last second, the tip burying itself in the gap between the collar and helmet.
Amber blood sprayed across the dais, the scent was sickly sweet like decaying resin, the creature crashed to the ground as its life began to ebb away. The rest of the Vulghyr were being massacred in short order, gunned down by disciplined volleys of lead and plasma or hacked to pieces by sabres and axes.
Petyr stared down at the dying Vulghyr, it was only now that he noticed the elaborate details on the creature’s armour, countless tiny windows of azure glass spread out across the breastplate. He was taken aback by this, such beauty seemed at odds with the creatures they fought, the delicate nature of the armour suggested it had not been intended for war. Petyr sheathed his sabre and reached for the needle blade; the creature tightened its grip and tried to mouth something in a gurgling voice
“Coming….cann…cannot let them cat-cchhh us….” The creature said in perfect Surovan
“What are you talking about alien?” Petyr asked shaken by the creature’s command of human speech
“Aberrant! Aberrant! Coming for us…Abbberrrant!” the creature roared its four eyes wide with terror
Then it went still and fell back, Petyr sighed and pried the needle loose from the dead alien’s hand. The weapon was like no sword he had ever seen, the metal reminded him of mother of pearl and precious stones studded the blade from top to bottom, a current of ultraviolet energy flowed across its surface in delicate tendrils. Petyr wondered if the weapon had ever been intended to fulfil such a role, even as he sheathed it.
“What was the alien rambling about? I could hear it from across here with the minigun firing!” Korov asked as he ascended the dais to stand with his Hetman
“Aberrant or some nonsense” Petyr said with a dismissive shrug
“Deluded savages” Korov muttered before spitting in disgust and returning to his looting
And it was nonsense, no one had seen an Aberrant in centuries, the dread tsar had nuked the monstrosities into oblivion as Kaskad long ago. Petyr had seen countless aliens, some good and some not but aberrant? They were just a myth to scare children. Still, the beast had been terrified, how old could the Vulghyr be? Could this ship have been running since the wars*
“Get some more plasma charges brought up, once we’ve finished our sweeps, I want this ship turned into a debris field” Petyr said as his forces scrambled to complete their tasks
He didn’t want to believe the ramblings of a mad alien, but he couldn’t shake the image of the Vulghyr’s final words, the terror in its eyes seemed to transcend species, it was a look of primal fear that would terrify any being. And its words, spoken in unnaturally perfect Surovan and spoken with such raw conviction that how could there ever be doubt that the speaker believed them.
“Aberrant! Aberrant!” Petyr shuddered involuntarily as he remembered the terror that clung to each utterance, he turned to leave, eager to be away from such a vile place.
*The Vulghyr are an alien species noted for their vast arks, moribund nature and propensity for violent raids. They will strike any target without warning and seize whatever they require before fleeing, they have no compunction with killing or genocide and seem to be motivated by fear of something else.
*Kozaks are ancient clans of pioneers given sanction and blessing by the Surovan dynasty to expand and chart the helot worlds in total freedom. Kozaks are legendary for their protection of the common man and are idolised as the defenders of the humanity.
*The topknot of a Kozak, this ancient hairstyle is legally only permitted to be worn by members of a Kozak Sich and acts as a marker of the wandering clans.
*The Aberrant war, a decades long conflict between newly arrived humanity and a monstrous alien species known as the Aberrant, it ended when General Sofron Surova wiped out the species with nuclear arms at the battle of Kaskad. The Abberrant remain a myth at the heart of the Dynasties founding history.
The Frontier of the Helot Worlds
Near the Orzak cloud
The Burya burned through the tar black of the void with murderous intent, the vast warships wings bristling with open gun bays as the crew prepared for the coming slaughter. In the distance the vast orange of the Orzak cloud loomed, long the final boundary of Dynasty space it was infamous for hiding predatory clans of aliens and bandits alike. The Vulghyr* had hoped to find shelter in the obscuring clouds, but their raids had attracted the attention of a far more terrible beast.
“Anya, how soon till its engines are down?” Petyr asked turning to regard his bridge officer
“Any moment now Hetman, they are bleeding fuel” Anya replied affirmatively
Petyr exhaled a large plume of fragrant smoke from his pipe before setting the ancient thing down on the command thrones holster. He rose and glared at the viewscreen, his mind already working through all necessary calculations. It was an ugly, hulking thing, the sort of craft that had been cobbled together in sheer desperation, a would-be ark to save a dying species from something worse. If Petyr had ever held any sympathy for such beings, it was long dead, they may have been innocent once but now the Vulghyr had well and truly bloodied their claws.
They had led the Burya on a merry chase, weeks of cat and mouse games as the Kozaks* had followed the raiders and their trail of destruction. A bloody collection of gutted stations and ransacked settlements had greeted the Kozaks as they tracked the aliens, the crew growing hungrier for vengeance with each new atrocity witnessed. Now though there was nowhere left to flee and as the alien vessel bled like a wounded leviathan, the Burya closed in for the killing blow.
A fusillade from the Burya’s plasma cannons shrieked across the void, each burning orb impacting with the stricken alien vessel and detonating violently on its surface. Already multiple gaping wounds covered the ancient metal, the anaemic return fire from the aliens’ own weapons bounced harmlessly off the Kozak’s shields, the last act of defiance falling flat as the end approached.
“Their engines are down sir; they are dead in the void”
“Good, prepare the assault shuttles!”
“Sir, want to board them?”
“They owe us a debt in blood, and I intend to personally ensure they repay it” Petyr replied with a wolfish grin as he gathered headed for the turbolift
*****************************************************************************************
The interior of the ancient boarding shuttles was pitch black save for the weak glow of halogen strips and glint of metal as sabres were drawn and plasma cells checked. The craft shook as it swam through the void toward its target, inside men and women went about their rituals of preparation, some prayed, others joked and some stared at faded mementos of distant loves, for Petyr the moment before was always the same.
It had been over forty years since he had left Sivastopol, spent decades stalking the great frontier, decades battling every evil the helot worlds could proffer. In the moments of silence before the killing began his mind’s eye turned always back to that distant memory of home, to the great rolling tides and green skies of Sivastopol. He had been barely a man when he’d left with the Sich, sworn to expand the empress’s domain and to defend its folk, now his oseledets* had long since gone grey.
“Thirty seconds to docking Hetman” the pilot announced over the comms, voice crackling with static
Petyr wondered if anyone back on Sivastopol would even be alive to remember him, his relatives had been hale people, but the tides of that world claimed many. Perhaps he would have been long forgotten now, a footnote or interesting tidbit in his family’s story, perhaps there was no one left even to do that. He pushed the thoughts out of his mind, this was no time for rumination. He slammed the plasma charge into his pistol and grinned as the weapon lit up with eerie green, he was ready.
“The Dead Tsar Sleeps!” he declared as he stood and began to move to the exit ramp
“MAY, WE NOT WAKE HIM!!!” the Sich replied back defiantly
“We have been led on a long chase by these creatures, but now they have nowhere to flee to! Today we will avenge the countless dead, today we show them why the dynasty is eternal! Spare none, they deserve only your steel and your lead!” he declared as the transport erupted in roars of approval
Petyr was now standing at the front of the squad, his wasp fur lined cloak and steel breastplate making him seem gigantic, his already tall frame enhanced by the raiment. There was a thud as the shuttle connected with the hull of the Vulghyr warship, then a sound of drilling and the reek of ozone and molten metal. Moments later the ramp descended to reveal a darkened, wreckage strewn corridor and countless glaring eyes.
“For the Dynasty and the Empress!!!” Petyr roared as he drew his sabre and charged
The response was a booming roar as the Kozaks charged into the fray.
The Sabre bit deep into the creature’s neck, amber hued gored spurting on the bulkheads as its arteries burst, it slumped back mouth agape as its life ebbed away. Around Petyr the boarding teams were making short work of the Vulghyr, they may have been impressive raiders, but they lacked any discipline when confronted by professional fighters. Already Korov and Bogdana were cutting a swathe through the defenders, spent rounds clattering on the ground as their miniguns roared.
Petyr had always sensed something decrepit about the Vulghyr, their elongated forms seemed more suited to exploration or craft than warfare, everything seemed to speak to their desperation. He’d seen the scraps of once pristine clothing, intricate spiral patterns barely visible under all the grime, the delicate flowering forms on the few original parts of their ships and even their elongated quad eyes seemed to possess a sad intelligence.
It was as though they knew they were finished but some last desperate instinct demanded they persist. Something had broken them long ago, made them into the desperate creatures that murdered and stalked across the frontier. Pity had little utility in a boarding action, and these creatures were still killers, the Kozaks lost men as they advanced, pulled down by countless grubby knife hands or blown apart by the burst rounds that the Vulghyr were so fond of, they fought like cornered animals. But they still died, they were outmatched.
They advanced down derelict corridors, the stench of the alien sharp and repugnant as it invaded their nostrils. They passed dilapidated bunk rooms and filth encrusted common areas as they made for the heart of the ship, every surface seemed to tell a story of forgotten glories and of a culture given to elegance rather than atrocity. Nowhere was this more apparent than in the ornately carved doors to the command deck.
“Fancy” Korov muttered with a snort as he nonchalantly attached the breaching charge to the doors
Delicate swirls and elegant hieroglyphs mingled, flecks of violet and azure suggested the door had once been painted. The scene on the door was of a crowds gathered by a beach to welcome a new dawn, a red sun blazed at the centre and a robed Vulghyr in white robes raised his staff in revelation of the suns glory. Was this what they had once been, devout? Ornate? How had such a species fallen so far
“Blow it” Petyr commanded
Korov clicked the switch and the ancient fresco in a superheated explosion as the plasma bomb disintegrated everything in range. The stink of molten bulkhead and scorched air clung to Petyr’s nostrils as they charged through the opening. Inside the command centre the remaining Vulghyr were arrayed around a single command dais, a tall figure in metal armour rose from the throne and drew a needle like blade from its scabbard.
“Death to the alien!!!” Someone roared as the shooting started
Petyr leapt onto the dais with his sabre drawn, the Vulghyr advanced its jagged needle blade shimmering with unnatural energies as it held it aloft. His armour was a burnished chrome hue, one of the few pieces of Vulghyr equipment that looked like it had been maintained. Petyr swung out with his blade, the Vulghyr responded with unnatural speed, sidestepping the swing and thrusting with its own blade, every nerve ending seemed to scream as though aflame as the edge but into Petyr’s side.
Petyr moved back and raised his blade, the two warriors circling each other, his newly gained wound seemed to burn, the energy from the needle tormenting every sense. Petyr had to exert every ounce of will not cry out in agony, he gritted his teeth and focused on his anger instead. The Vulghyr lunged a second time, Petry ducked and brought his blade up as the last second, the tip burying itself in the gap between the collar and helmet.
Amber blood sprayed across the dais, the scent was sickly sweet like decaying resin, the creature crashed to the ground as its life began to ebb away. The rest of the Vulghyr were being massacred in short order, gunned down by disciplined volleys of lead and plasma or hacked to pieces by sabres and axes.
Petyr stared down at the dying Vulghyr, it was only now that he noticed the elaborate details on the creature’s armour, countless tiny windows of azure glass spread out across the breastplate. He was taken aback by this, such beauty seemed at odds with the creatures they fought, the delicate nature of the armour suggested it had not been intended for war. Petyr sheathed his sabre and reached for the needle blade; the creature tightened its grip and tried to mouth something in a gurgling voice
“Coming….cann…cannot let them cat-cchhh us….” The creature said in perfect Surovan
“What are you talking about alien?” Petyr asked shaken by the creature’s command of human speech
“Aberrant! Aberrant! Coming for us…Abbberrrant!” the creature roared its four eyes wide with terror
Then it went still and fell back, Petyr sighed and pried the needle loose from the dead alien’s hand. The weapon was like no sword he had ever seen, the metal reminded him of mother of pearl and precious stones studded the blade from top to bottom, a current of ultraviolet energy flowed across its surface in delicate tendrils. Petyr wondered if the weapon had ever been intended to fulfil such a role, even as he sheathed it.
“What was the alien rambling about? I could hear it from across here with the minigun firing!” Korov asked as he ascended the dais to stand with his Hetman
“Aberrant or some nonsense” Petyr said with a dismissive shrug
“Deluded savages” Korov muttered before spitting in disgust and returning to his looting
And it was nonsense, no one had seen an Aberrant in centuries, the dread tsar had nuked the monstrosities into oblivion as Kaskad long ago. Petyr had seen countless aliens, some good and some not but aberrant? They were just a myth to scare children. Still, the beast had been terrified, how old could the Vulghyr be? Could this ship have been running since the wars*
“Get some more plasma charges brought up, once we’ve finished our sweeps, I want this ship turned into a debris field” Petyr said as his forces scrambled to complete their tasks
He didn’t want to believe the ramblings of a mad alien, but he couldn’t shake the image of the Vulghyr’s final words, the terror in its eyes seemed to transcend species, it was a look of primal fear that would terrify any being. And its words, spoken in unnaturally perfect Surovan and spoken with such raw conviction that how could there ever be doubt that the speaker believed them.
“Aberrant! Aberrant!” Petyr shuddered involuntarily as he remembered the terror that clung to each utterance, he turned to leave, eager to be away from such a vile place.
*The Vulghyr are an alien species noted for their vast arks, moribund nature and propensity for violent raids. They will strike any target without warning and seize whatever they require before fleeing, they have no compunction with killing or genocide and seem to be motivated by fear of something else.
*Kozaks are ancient clans of pioneers given sanction and blessing by the Surovan dynasty to expand and chart the helot worlds in total freedom. Kozaks are legendary for their protection of the common man and are idolised as the defenders of the humanity.
*The topknot of a Kozak, this ancient hairstyle is legally only permitted to be worn by members of a Kozak Sich and acts as a marker of the wandering clans.
*The Aberrant war, a decades long conflict between newly arrived humanity and a monstrous alien species known as the Aberrant, it ended when General Sofron Surova wiped out the species with nuclear arms at the battle of Kaskad. The Abberrant remain a myth at the heart of the Dynasties founding history.
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