The Warlord Domination, Sovereign Race

Chapter 3: Hasty Decisions.

A shot of Otonoliss from the ground.

Planet: Otonoliss

Inside the Aszen Lens.
    Baaaaam!! A computer console explodes at the far corner of the room, throwing two technicians into the adjacent bulkhead!
    Wheet Wheet Wheet!! Sirens blare loudly as more and more hullplating is ruptured! Massive dents appear in almost every outside wall from the Vex fighters' heavy cannon rounds!
    An overhanging catwalk begins to collapse! Crash!! It crushes the floor below, almost killing a woman, who only narrowly escapes death by side-stepping at the last moment! Thick dust from the crash billows outward, filling the entire room within seconds.
    "WHERE ARE MY BLASTED DEFENCE SHIPS!?" a droning, scratchy voice shouts from across the room. Though the face can't be seen from here- the voice being all that penetrates the hazy air.
    The woman, dressed in the azure and silver clothing of the ruling citizen class, pushes herself off the catwalk, and makes her way towards the sound of the voice with all haste; though slowed considerably by many large chunks of debris scattered all across the floor.
    "Your Majesty, are you alright!?" a too-shrill voice, different from the first, screams over the blaring alarms.
    Just then another explosion rocks the room, again throwing her, along with a great many others, to the floor!
    "Madam Shin-Graza, are you alright?" the voice screams again, more insistently this time.
    She shakes her head, annoyed. Honestly to her: Science Empress Arma Shin-Graza, that voice- while only ever trying to be helpful to her- has become more annoying than even the nature’s weather controllers!- always working but never getting the job done properly. Small in stature as in personality, the whiney voice belongs to her manservant Trent Sez-Milo- timid as a wild deer, and nitpicky to all extents of the word! But at the same time (even She has to admit) caring, loving, understanding, kind, and able to put up with her not-too-rare emotional outbursts a lot better than even her own husband! ...and the list goes on. Arma has actually grown quite fond of the little man over the period of years he has worked as her personal aid (though not in a romantic way, you must understand). He helps her most adamantly in keeping up her daily role of simultaneously governing and ensuring the advancement of the Otonoliss Science and Development Program.
    And there's little point denying that she has needed a good deal of help many times in the past- especially as of late. Science progress has gone hand in hand with planetary construction on this nature for its entire history. Where the hands of power were found for the building of the 11th nature [Otonoliss is humanity’s 11th planet.], hands too were also found for the building of new and better ideas and technologies.
    But where power is found, one wouldn't have to look far to find those who covet it. Arma has needed all the help this little man has provided her with, and More, in dealing with men such as these.
    Her musings are interrupted by a hand which suddenly appears in front of her, offering to help her up. "Are you in any need of assistance, my lady?"
    The voice is calm, casual and yet horribly dark. And even though his facial features are barely discernable in the thick smoke and dust, she can too easily imagine the eerie smile that he must be wearing.
    She stares up for a moment into his hollow, mocking blue eyes. "Not from you, Bruce Cavalar!" she thunders, pushing herself to her feet in order to stare angrily up at him. Then in her most commanding voice she says, "I told you to stay at the Ceaderen Keep!"
    Bruce just smiles back defiantly, his thick facial features displaying a sense of complete disregard for her orders. "We both knew I wasn't about to do that."
   Arma practically grinds her teeth together. "I am the Empress, Cavalar! You heed my orders!"
    Another explosion roars in the background, hurling another officer from his seat to his death across the room!
    Trent Sez-Milo scampers up behind her. "Your Majesty, are you all right!?"
   Something bursts in the background, causing an earth-shattering sound! but Arma doesn't even give him the satisfaction of flinching as she locks eyes with Bruce, whose royal garments do absolutely nothing to sway her opinions of him right now. 'Do you hate him, Arma?' she asks herself. 'How many times have I asked myself that?' She has tried hard not to hate anyone, for any reason- tried Very hard. But as she stares at him- hardly taking notice of the surrounding chaos- that resolution she made years ago, to never hate even her most insidious enemies, wavers a little. And this is no small resolution to her. It is a resolution made upon her father’s death bed- the day she became Empress of all Otonoliss Science and Development.
    But that mighty temptation to pour all her hatred into this one man still is able to hit her like the hammer of a giant, causing her to involuntarily squint her eyes.
    She blinks hard and swallows her emotions down, determined not to give in.
    Bruce turns around; the cloak around his shoulders swatting against the thick grey smoke. “If you are finished then, I suggest we do what we came here to do.” He then adds, almost in an intimidating tone, "We mustn't keep our Prime Advocate waiting."
    Argin Aszen, a thin-faced man with slicked-back, long black hair, and wearing a long white leather coat, slams his fist into a computer console and screams in his raspy voice, "I said cut them off from reaching the Blasted Generators!!"
    As if insulting his command, two Vex fighters breach through the heavy defense fire and blow a power-cell to pieces! The resulting yellow fireball rips up any surrounding hull within a quarter-mile, causing another shockwave to surge through the Aszen Lens, knocking practically everyone in the room, save for the Prime Advocate himself, to the floor!
    Aszen growls in frustration. This is all his responsibility in the end. He is the Prime Advocate, the ruler of emperors and their peoples. Though not given ultimate power over Otonoliss, he is still the primary force behind every governing aspect of the nature. As for his actual ability to do that wisely and justly; well…many, if not most, would beg to differ. The reputation that proceeds him is that of a fierce and ill-intentioned man. Even his being here today as Prime Advocate is questioned by many… His father had died so suddenly…so unexpectedly. Many people place the blame on the son of one so great and well respected by his subjects.
    As a result, their favor in him is very low- Dangerously low. Rumors of potential revolts reach his ears all the more frequently!
    This is the last thing he needs at a time like this.
    Arma stumbles to her feet and grabs a guardrail behind Him. Desperately she says, "Sire, we still have stranded technicians out there!"
    Aszen doesn't take his eyes off of his panel monitor. "Not now, Madam Shin-Graza! I am a little preoccupied!"
    The station rocks again- Arma not falling to the hard steel floor this time only because her manservant holds her up, at the cost of his own falling to the ground. "My husband is out there!" she pleads.
    *"Anagonga moving into attack formation!"* a captain's voice shouts over the radio. Seconds later the ship comes into view- Vex fighters riddling it with fire until it erupts into a ball of yellow light! *"AAAAAAH-!!"* That line goes dead.
    Aszen screams, "All Ships attack! ALL SHIPS ATTACK!!"
    More and more hangar bays open up, releasing sleek strike cruisers, who- provided they make it outside alive- dive into the battle, Storm-cannons blazing.
    Arma comes up to stand directly behind him. "Prime Advocate, my husband is still out there!" she repeats for the third time. "Please, do something to help him!"
    "There is little I can do about that right now!" he barks back. "There are thousands of people still stranded out there! You did notice there is a war going on, didn't you?" He doesn’t sound happy.
    "But sire…" she moans, trying not to sound selfish, but not convincing anyone, including herself. "My husband…"
    "Is alive!" a voice behind her announces! She spins around…
    Roice Son-kye stands in the doorway; Riss Len-Quéd leans on his strong arm!
    "RISS!" Arma cries in a broken voice, rushing over and throwing her arms around her husband's neck. "I thought you were dead!" she says, breaking down into sobs.
    "It takes more than a bunch of dumb aliens to finish me off”, he replies, smiling.
    Aszen looks briefly over at the two, then back to his console. "It's good to see you still in one piece, Captain Len-Quéd”, he says.
    To Riss, even that slight effort at showing some level of caring, is more than a huge compliment, coming from the Prime Advocate! "Thank you, Sire!"
    Aszen gives a slight smile back, and then barks out a few quick commands to his rallying fleet. Finally he turns to address his convened group.
    Riss looks around himself at those assembled. It really is quite an impressive gathering to say the least. At least seven different members of imperial authority, including his wife- still clinging to him; a baker’s dozen admirals and notable commodores; various men of wealth and prestige; and a good number of advisers and counselors. In the face of all these great men and women he feels a little out of place, and not just a tiny bit small and insignificant (though I doubt if you would ever hear him say so). He tries hard not to look the way he feels- quite unsuccessfully- and shifts from foot to foot.
    "Oh stop that, You”, his wife whispers in that irritating way of always knowing exactly what he's thinking. Wiping her eyes, she then walks to the center of the room, with him in tow, and addresses the assembly. "My fellow ruling members and honorable citizens”, she starts off quickly. "I don't think we have need of- or have time for- formalities today. We all know why we were called here-"
    "This is outrageous!" shouts one of the nature's more wealthy citizens. "How were they ever allowed to get this close undetected!?”
    Argin Aszen's right-hand man- a shady fellow by the name of Roderick Im'oan- speaks up in his master's defense. "Don't be absurd, Mr. Als-Tine. Fighters of that small size can't be detected by long-range radar scanners!"
    Another complains, "Then why have they not been wiped out yet!? Our glorious fleet- which I have poured Millions of funds into- has barely even slowed them down!"
    Im'oan shoots back, "Our craft are dwindling them down as we speak, warden! But they can't use their heavy armament so close to the Aszen Lens and its surrounding generators!"
    "Then where are all our FIGHTERS, blast it all!?" someone screams frantically from the back.
    Im'oan looks like he's ready to explode with rage, but the Prime Advocate speaks up for himself before he can. "Fighting!" he counters with venom. A sort of panicked silence falls on the group at the sound of his voice. Riss unwittingly smiles at that. Argin Aszen is an intimidating man when he wants to be! "As they should be! The key to victory here is patience”, he says through gritted teeth. "So I suggest all of you call out your respective armies as You should be doing, and then seal your highly over-critical mouths!"
    He then turns furiously back to his console, allowing the majority of the representatives time to release the breaths they were holding, and swallow down their bobbling throats.
    The only person in the room who seems to be enjoying himself is Roice, tucked away in a corner, giggling to himself.
    Silence fills the room till one older senator steps forward: The King of Inquina, the capital city. "And what if those fighters are not fast enough?" he asks bravely. "What if the Censure Rite destroy the surrounding generators before then?"
    Aszen doesn't turn around, but the sudden jolt that passes through his body shows that he most certainly heard…and that it hit home. And, as Riss and Arma both know, it stung him too. This nature has belonged to the Aszen family for untold generations- Argin being the latest descendent to inherit it- and he loves it, more than anything or anyone…
    In fact he loves it too much; a hard, jealous love- not the kind of love that leads to much happiness or peace.
    He gives them all a sideways glance and opens his mouth to offer some sort of solution, but then closes it again; his eyes darting around in their sockets.
    He's stumped… He doesn't know what else to do. The situation has become desperate faster than he had ever planned for.
    "They won't”, a voice says, drawing all eyes in the room, including the astonished ones of Arma. It takes Riss a second to realize it was him!
    Even the Prime Advocate raises a curious eyebrow.
    'Ok, Riss…' he thinks. 'no going back now.' He raises his voice and tries to stand in his most confidant manner. "Well, sirs and sires; my Cosmic Flare Troopers and I can easily set up Ion Canopies over every generator. That should give our defence forces the leverage they need to mop up the rest of the enemy without having to worry about protecting them." He pauses, holding his breath. That ‘easily’ remark was a bit of a seller…
    Barely two seconds pass before Aszen speaks up. "Do it”, he orders.
    Riss bolts for the exit, practically reaching it in one step! "Y-yes, sire! Thank you, sire! I-I-I won't let you down, sire!" he stammers, jammy-packed with adrenaline. "C’mon, Roice! Let's light up the skies!"
    Roice, equally excited, bolts after him, joking, "I think we're up a little too high for anybody to see us from the ground, boss!"
    Riss rounds a corner, punches a panel, and dives through an opening hatch to get to a locker door. "Then let's make it really bright!" He pulls a switch on the locker, revealing a fully equipped, gold detailed, C.F.T armour suit.

_____________________________

    Nearby.
    A pale-skinned alien is seated at the helm of the wing-leader fighter's cockpit. He sees through eyeless lids (you heard me right!) and breathes constantly- his mouth permanently hanging open in a creepy (to say the least!) way. He is big, even for a Vex, easily seven and a half feet tall, weighing about 475 pounds in his bulky suit of onyx black armour, and with the strength and animalistic behavior to match even his toughest warriors!
    He is Gorillo. These attackers are his men. They are all here because this attack is their last chance to survive.
    They cannot- must not- fail to capture this grand weapon- this Otonoliss, even if it is only for a small moment of time.
    But first they must capture its generators, and destroy any that they cannot.
    After all, “Must not let the Rulers get their ugly claws on it”, he mutters in an inhumanly deep, hollow voice. "Cannot let that happen…"

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