Horror Story Halloween Contest!

Posted: //
Oct. 16, 2017, 3:09 p.m.

Updated //
Oct. 24, 2017, 3:58 p.m.

It's that terrifying time of year where everyone either wants to get scared or scare someone else! So, we thought it'd be the perfect time to put together a small contest, one that could potentially be a bit scary!

To enter this contest you must reply to this thread with a horror story (one story per person/account) that takes place in the Dreadnought universe. Here's what we're looking for..

  • At LEAST 250 words per story.
  • Must be Dreadnought themed.
  • Must be SPOOKY, or, at least try to be. smile

Winners will be selected based on imagination, creepiness, and overall quality. Please ensure these stories aren't too graphic or mature. The three winners will be selected by our community team and announced on November 3rd at 11 AM CDT and awarded a 500 GP code (for the platform of their choice) to help them get some creepy vanity items for their ships!

Let's see what you've got captains! Let's see if you can scare us, or each other! smile

Check out the official rules and regulations thread here for more details.

Having any issues and need some assistance? Our support team would be more than happy to help! You can reach out to them here!

Miguel "MiguelItUp" Rial - Six Foot Player Relations Specialist

Posted: //
Oct. 24, 2017, 5:04 p.m.

He opened his eyes, the lights flickered. How long had he been unconscious for? He looked around, where was he? He couldn't make out his surroundings very well. His eye snapped in to focus. He was on the bridge, out of the main seeing window he could see the twisting wreckage of the Raptor. He sat in the captains chair, "Damage report!" He snapped. No one on the bridge answered. He moved person to person, they where all dead.

He flicked the com switch, "Engineering damage report!". He was greeted by static. He walked up to the exit of the bridge And slapped the door control, nothing happened. He hit it again, nothing. He 're took his seat. As he sat there in the silence, he thought he heard a whisper. He turned in his chair towards the sound, but there was nothing there. He turned back, as he looked forward, something didn't seem right. One of the body's had moved slightly. Weapons officer Parker was no longer had her hands on the weapons controlls.

There was that whispering again. Just out of the range of hearing. But it was something. As he turned another body had moved. It was looking right at him. Tactical officer Jenkins looked right at him. It was the first time he had looking in to lifeless eyes. There was that whispering again. What was it saying? "You?" He could make out "you" he turned gain. Another body was on the floor. Navigator Hendrick. An arm stretched out as if it where crawling towards him. He pulled his side arm. There was that whisper again, "you". This time he made out another word. "Alive".

You all blame me. He thought to him self. You all blame me and now you want me dead. It's not my fault. He turned Parker was now on the floor. He backed up in to his chair. Gun shaking in this hand. You'll not get me he thought.suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder, he turned and pulled the trigger. As the body hit the floor he saw another crew member standing in shock. He was saying something, but he could not hear him. Then he realised he gun shot had not been that loud. He Rand his had up the side of his case to feel the blood running from his ears.

i5 4690K @ 3.5GHz|8GB HyperX Savage 1600mHz|MSI H81M-E34|MSI GTX 960 Gaming 2GB|Seasonic S12G 650W|Win10 Pro X64| Corsair Spec 03 Case|

Dreadnought Support tool | Customer Support | Rookie Helping Hand Manuel

Posted: //
Oct. 24, 2017, 5:05 p.m.

Updated //
Oct. 25, 2017, 5:14 p.m.

He opened his eyes, the lights flickered. How long had he been unconscious for? He looked around, where was he? He couldn't make out his surroundings very well. His eye snapped in to focus. He was on the bridge, out of the main viewing window he could see the twisting wreckage of the Dreadnought Raptor. He sat in the captains chair, his ear still ringing from the blast that had knocked him.down. "Damage report!" He snapped. No one on the bridge answered. He moved person to person, they where all dead.

He flicked the com switch, norhing, it was dead. He walked up to the exit of the bridge And slapped the door control, nothing happened. He hit it again, nothing. He took his seat. As he sat there in the silence, he thought he heard a whisper. He turned in his chair towards the sound, but there was nothing there. He turned back, as he looked forward, something didn't seem right. One of the body's had moved slightly. Weapons officer Parker was no longer had her hands on the weapons controlls.

There was that whispering again. Just out of the range of hearing. But it was something. As he turned another body had moved. It was looking right at him. Tactical officer Jenkins looked right at him. It was the first time he had looking in to lifeless eyes. There was that whispering again. What was it saying? "You?" He could make out "you" he turned gain. Another body was on the floor. Navigator Hendrick. An arm stretched out as if it where crawling towards him. He pulled his side arm. There was that whisper again, "you". This time he made out another word. "Alive".

You all blame me. He thought to him self. You all blame me and now you want me dead. It's not my fault. He turned Parker was now on the floor. He backed up in to his chair. Gun shaking in this hand. You'll not get me he thought. Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder, he turned and pulled the trigger. As the body hit the floor he saw another crew member standing in shock covered in a spray of blood. He was saying something, but the Captain could not hear him. Then he realised he gun shot had not been that loud. He ran his hand up the side of his face. He could feel the blood running from his ears.

i5 4690K @ 3.5GHz|8GB HyperX Savage 1600mHz|MSI H81M-E34|MSI GTX 960 Gaming 2GB|Seasonic S12G 650W|Win10 Pro X64| Corsair Spec 03 Case|

Dreadnought Support tool | Customer Support | Rookie Helping Hand Manuel

Posted: //
Oct. 25, 2017, 2:31 a.m.

It was a cold night on the blasted ruins of Elysium. Captain Nemo, as usual, was on the command center of his ship, Vindicta. Taking patrol routes on this region was never of his best interest, but as any other captain, Nemo always stay true to his duty.

Looking out of the window, he could not help but to admire the beauty of the dystopia below him. The pale moon light reflected upon the wave on the shores of the island, created a strange tranquility on the ruins left by the Transhuman.

"Any anomaly, officers?" - Nemo asked

"Nay captain, it's as quiet as usual" - His navigational officer replied

"That's good, keep scanning" - Nemo continued - "Hopefully nothing will happen under my watch"

Despite that, he could not shake off the feeling of something going to happen. Being a veteran captain through countless of battles, it was his sharp instinct that kept him alive, and it was rarely wrong.

Suddenly the communication officer shouted out "Captain, you might want to look behind, there is something coming at our ship"

Nemo quickly glanced at the radar, nothing was shown. He rushed toward the back of the bridge and looked out of the window. It took him a couple of seconds to see the small distorted part of the scenery behind a ghastly figure.

"A stealth corvette, no wonder the radar didn't pick up anything"

As he looked, the corvette rushed toward his Vindicta. Nemo quickly ordered his crew

"Alright boys, full power to maneuvering thruster, let show this rascal what he gets for ambushing us"

"Aye aye captain!!!" - His crew replied

Nemo sat down to his control seat and took the navigation into his hand. A smile flashed on his face as his blood began to boil, for his whole life had been ready for battles.

"Engage evasive maneuver" - Nemo ordered his navigation officer

As the Vindicta dashed forward, Nemo steered to the left, giving him perfect vision on the target

"Weapon, gives me a lock on" - Nemo shouted

"Negative captain, weapon not locking on" - The weapon officer responded.

"What? How is that possible?" - Nemo kept shouting as he continued to steer the ship - "Maximum power to evasive maneuver, give me lock on as soon as you get it"

As the Vindicta dashed left and right, the corvette drew closer and closer, following every movement Nemo made.

"Such a skilled captain, why have I never encountered him before?" - Nemo though to himself, as sweats began to drip off his forehead.

Before he realized it, the corvette was already too close.

"Prepare escape pod, if thing goes south we have to abandon ship" - Nemo yelled

Then they felt a cold surge. The corvette suddenly blinked forward, through their ship. The lights flickered as the hollowed structure passed through. Nemo and his team stood silence for a few seconds, watching it.

"Damage report, damage report now!!" - Nemo demanded as he captured his thought when the light came back on

"Zero damage captain" - Engineer officer replied - "All systems are go"

"Then what in the world just happened?" - He questioned, as the corvette flew away and disappear into the moon light

A few seconds later, Nemo muttered a few words "Did a ghost ship just race us, one last time?"

"I am the law, I am the justice!" - Captain Nemo

Posted: //
Oct. 25, 2017, 2:32 p.m.

Updated //
Oct. 25, 2017, 2:37 p.m.


"Mr. Bix...Mr. Bix...can you hear me, Mr. Bix?"

Bix cracked open his eyes. His sight was hazy and he felt disoriented. The room he sat in seemed blindingly white. As it slowly came into focus and his eyes widened, they settled on two strikingly green dots: the eyes of a transhuman standing above him.

Startled by its presence he attempted to sit up, but to no avail - he was firmly secured to the chair. His breathing was rapid as he surveyed the room. The trained eye of the captain could not discern a door, or even an escape route of any kind. More concerning, he couldn't remember how he got there to begin with. The transhuman looked familiar, but he couldn't place its face.

"What do you want?" snarled the captain.

He knew he was in no position to threaten the deadly creature, but at this point options were limited. Memory of his crew, the all seemed distant and foggy.

"What are you doing to me?" he barked.
"Mr. Bix, what happened to your eye?"
"The heck are you talkin...AHHH!"

Bix howled in pain as his right eye sealed shut, a suddenly familiar headache thumping harder than the warp coils on the Morningstar. 'Why did it hurt? What was the transhuman talking about?' His mind raced as the pain only increased, the memory of his lost eye slowly rising up from the shadows of a past he buried as deep as he could.

Deeper still than the screams on comms from a dying world he had abandoned.


"Captain Bix, please open your eyes."

The pain suddenly ceased, as did the roaring headache. Bix carefully opened his left eye, the inky blackness suddenly blurred by the ever so slight distortion of electric currents and cold metal. A familiar amber tint covered his right peripheral. The transhuman was nowhere to be seen, nor even the white room. He sat in his commander's chair, a worried crew watching him with bated breath as the chief medical officer urged him to sit still.

"What's going on doc. What are you doing?" he quietly asked...his amber vision flickering on occasion as the doctor fidgeted with a fearsome needle.
"Just be still, Captain. It's going to be ok."
"What is? What is going to be ok?" asked Bix, his lips quivering as his eyes darted to a discharged pistol on the floor.

From what little he could see past the medical officer, the crew seemed tense. The smell of burnt flesh and scarred metal filled his nostrils. His amber vision providing only basic clues compared to its usual readouts. The pistol was his, of that he was certain. Yet all crew were present, staring at him. In the distance, beyond the heavy glass of the bridge, a crimson red dot burned magnificently. It and the stars around it seemed familiar.

The crew were oddly distant, they didn't usually lean away from him. 'Where are we?' he thought. He tried to tilt his head to view the Nav Officer's panel, but the doctor snapped it back forward and sternly asked him to remain still. He trusted his doctor, always had. Why did he seem more cautious now?

"You're going to be just fine, Captain." The doctor raised the heavy needle to Bix's right eye, the silver tip eliciting sprites in his mechanical vision.
"What's going on? What happened? Why are you..." Bix stammered out his questions, his gut queasy as the needle descended into a port in the eye, the reminder of a hollow shaft in his head bubbling up.
"Will this work?" a nervous cadet asked, her hand dangerously close to her side-arm.
"It has to." replied the doctor, his green eyes shining brightly.
"Why..." Bix didn't finish his question as his world turned dark once again.


Bix opened his eye, the amber vision returning a view of the metal struts above his quarters. There were no sprites or feedback - it was functioning as normal these days, doc had seen to that. For a brief moment, he considered ripping it out. One mistake had led to him getting it...but that only hurt him.

The eye. It hurt everyone else. It wanted to. Anything PCF made wanted to. For everything wrong with the transhumans, they were still just another problem made by men - doc didn't want to hurt anyone. Neither did Bix. The eye, though...

Bix reached up and grasped the metal device firmly, the sensitive scars tingling as he gently pulled on it...rage and sorrow welling up inside his chest. It was harmless now...but he still wanted to rip it out.

He always did when he dreamed of the day he tried to retire.

"Our shots are giant red lances of destruction! Why don't they ever shoot back!?"
"We never give them a chance to."
-Discussion aboard the Virtus

Posted: //
Oct. 25, 2017, 3:26 p.m.

The Derelict

Captain's Log: 10/25/XX17, Captain Adrian Blunt on board the Destroyer Dark Reaper arriving in orbit around Saturn's Moon Titan in response to a distress signal.
We've arrived in the Saturn system in response to a distress signal that the Sinley Bay had picked up. Taking the job my crew sat out to discover what's going on. Upon exiting the Warp Jump my Commander informs me they've pick up the beacon emanating from Titan.
"Plot a course to Titan Commander, prepare sick bay for any injured we may find."
"Aye Captain. Helm plot a course for Titan, best speed!"
"Aye Commander". Said the Helmsman.
As we drew closer to Titan we saw what looked like a flashing red distress beacon in a deteriorating orbit above Titan.
"Captain we've found the source of the distress signal but no ship" Replayed the Tactical Officer.
Feeling that we're walking into a trap by rouge captains I signaled the ship to go into Caution Mode and ordered a full scan of the area for rouge ships and of course get a closer scan of the distress beacon.
Minuets felt like hours as my crew began to feel nervous and paranoid of an unknown attack. As we finally arrived around Titan we set the ship to orbit and began scanning the distress beacon when suddenly an explosion rocked the ship!
I screamed the orders in to the ships comm as another explosion rocked the ship.
"Captain we have a hull breach on Decks 1-5, causalities are reporting in!" Cried my Communication's Officer.
"Tactical scan for enemy ships NOW!"
The next explosion hit the tactical station killing my tactical officer.
"Seal off that bulkhead and get the doctor up here!"
Just then several more explosions came from the aft of the ship. MY GOD THE ENGINES!!! My ship was now dead in the water as our orbit began to decay. I ordered all hands to escape pods and several more explosions rocked my dying ship. As I ran to the my personal escape pod I ordered a distress beacon to launch, as I looked out the window of my escape pod I could see the tattered remains of my once proud ship the Dark Reaper plunging towards Titan, burning up in it atmosphere and I could see my ships beacon pulsing its emergency red lights and the last thing that ran across my mind was.
"That beacon we found wasn't from another was ours."

Semper Fi.

Posted: //
Oct. 25, 2017, 4:46 p.m.

Updated //
Oct. 26, 2017, 9:42 a.m.

A lonely corvette is flying through the endless and never ending darkness of space, without a destination. The captain was nervously wandering around on the bridge. The mission has to be a success! If we fail, we will loose everything.
The corvette warped to a convoi, which job is to protect the vette and its precious cargo.
Captain John Smith was nervous. He closed his eyes. Fire. Fire everywhere. People screemed in agonizing pain, while there skin was burning and their eyes melting. Blood was everywhere, the entire outpost was lost. This act of terrorism commited by the ban colonial fleet will never be forgotten.
He coughed and opened his eyes. This will haunt him for the rest of his life.
His ship, the lucifer, exited warp. There it was. The convoi. The lucifer approached slowly, captain Smith stared out of his window.
Captain sakarra was concentrated, she kept on spectating the units and space around her ship, the babylon, a heavy monarch class dreadnought. >Babylon, report!< * That was the crazy horse, a medium corvette spectating the area. here is captain sakarra from the babylon, we got a ping on our radar. The lucifer will be here in around 20 minutes. And then, suddenly a white sparkle appeared in the vacuum. All electronics went crazy, not only on her ship. WHATS THAT?! An undescribably heat appeared out of nothing, the radiation warnings broke. The white sphere expanded rapidly, Sakarra wanted to scream, but her mouth didn't wanted to make a noice. She looked downwards, her hands turned into big pieces of wet, bl00dy meat, her mouth was like a long skar, her eyes where at complete different positions. Crew members got molten into each other, some simply vaporized. Another one lost all of his skin.
CONVOI! CONVOI COME IN! All captain smith heard were screams and other unimaginable sounds through the communication speekers.
Those baStards did it. I cannot believe it, his weapons officer johnson said.* The Pcf just used their version of a high radiation biomorph bomb. Causing people to mutate into undefinable biomass. The exact same weapon the Lucifer transported.
Smith saw the surveillance feeds from the convoi units. It was terrifying. Feet were there where hands should have been, broken rips pierced through skulls...
John smith started to cry, then he pulled his gun and shot himself into the head.

War. War never changes.

The community should not be afraid of the developers- The developers should be afraid of their community. carrier

^I want to believe^

Posted: //
Oct. 26, 2017, 5:44 a.m.

It was the next fight for the Rings of Saturn, two gangs of mercenaries were fighting over a strange discovery appeared is unclear how and why this long-searched area. Dozens, hundreds of ships, fused into a single mass, hovered near the hassle...
The fight stopped once near the artifact materialized the ship is a giant, on Board of which it was possible to make out the inscription "the Destroyer Anvils"... per second by reducing the distance, the giant rammed the old man "Simargl" and opened fire on the asteroid that hid the living mercenaries. A huge beam gun drilled stone so that he began brasatsa and decay. Return fire did not bring any results - like shells were gone, before reaching the goal. Valcour, attacking from the flank, seem able to penetrate the invisible protection, but immediately got a huge bar right in the bridge, the explosion Corvette gutted for sweets, and those who survived, floating in spacesuits.
The only one who could withstand the fire of the stranger - "Monarch", was shot without a break, distract your enemy from your friend on the "Vindikta". Attempt ramming into the side was a bad idea, light destroyer just jammed on Board the battle barge, causing significant damage. And in the air, meanwhile, was "Iron within! Iron without!"

Posted: //
Oct. 27, 2017, 2:05 p.m.

Updated //
Oct. 27, 2017, 2:06 p.m.


William sat back in his command chair of his Otranto, scrolling through various job listings and reports. These days that list was topped with a warning and link to an ever-growing page of disappearances. He wasn't taking it lightly, but with his tactical cruiser manned by his faithful friend Harvey, he felt little fear, he knew his friend was at him back and he would always be ready to charge to the defense of his healer when needed.

"Got a message for you. Its Harvey."

William sat back and took the call, watching the man's face appear on a screen. "Whats up Harvey?" He asked, feeling no need to be formal with the man who'd pulled his ship out of the fire many times.

"Just wanted to tell you that I'm going to go going out soon. Got a bit of a job." The man replied.

"Alone?" William asked. "Is that a good idea?"

"The man is a good friend of mine, so the crew and I are willing to do it dirt cheap for him. If you are worried about those disappearances, I get it, but I'm headed out near the Red Sands battlefield. Most of those MIA are out system a bit."

"I don't know... what if you get jumped by someone?" Willliam asked.

Harvey shrugged. "I got weapons and auto-repair."

William frowned. "How about I go with you anyways?"

Harvey frowned at that, looking a little distracted. "Its not much money to split, I'm just doing this as a favor..." He paused. "Give me a moment, let me check something." He cut the com call and William waited.

A few minutes later Harvey was back with a grin on his face. "The man doesn't mind! says he'll even give me a bit more money, but it still ain't a lot. So he just want a scout of some of the canyons out there, heard that there was some good scrap to be had, but no one wants to go check for the amount of money he has. So unless there's already some powerful vultures there, we should be fine."

"Lets lets spin up the warpdrive and get this party started!" William said dramatically, pulling a laugh from his friend and the bridge crew, motioning to his officers to prepare the ship for a jump to Mars.


It was nighttime on Mars, the dark canyon walls rising up around them as the destroyer hovered protectively above the tactical cruiser skimming down near the ground, taking in detailed records of the bits and pieces of debris they were finding. Nothing big yet. If something had died out here after a battle, it wouldn't be very well known, most people didn't want to put the effort in scavenging off a planet, not enough room to flee if someone comes down on you from above.

William watched his officers working while keeping an eye on the visual of his tac cruiser.

"Picking up some strange readings ahead. hard to make out what it is." His tactical officer said as she adjusted her sensors. "Kind of faint, might be other vultures, but the canyon walls are bugging out my readings."

"Keep an eye on it." He answered, watching as Harvey's ship pivoted and ran around a corner. "Helm, keep up with him!"

Two different 'ayes' answered him and the destroyer surged forward to follow, swinging around the corner to follow and protect the tactical cruiser.

"Holy..." Someone murmured quietly.

It was the first remains they'd found. A Jutland and a Zmey, both dead on the canyon floor, the Jutland seeming balanced precariously atop the Zmey. Even in the dark shadows, it was easy to see where fire from battle damage had burnt and warped even the toughest of hulls.

"Where's Harvey?" William asked after a moment.

"He's not on my sensors." Tactical said.

"Communications can't raise him either." The man sitting there with his headset on piped up. "Just getting some sort of encrypted message, haven't seen this type before."

"Look a tactical cruiser can't just disappear, it isn't a cloaking ship." He said as studied the information available to him. "Com, can you at least track the direction of that message? Perhaps we'll find the tacnapper there There has to be something."

The man nodded and doubled down on his console. "North, under the arch of rock."

"Thats a dead Nox." Tactical corrected as the ship swung in that direction and passed under the dead ship. "I'm getting a lot more return now, a lot of debris and sensor clutter, no wonder scavengers haven't been here yet. I'm readying the guns, just in case."

William nodded, watching his crew get to work on trying to locate their tactical cruiser and his friend. He watched the ship pass another wreckage, a pile of corvettes and bombers, and then a destroyer fused with what was left of some poor dreadnought, two artilleries rammed into the walls of the canyon like some strange art installation. It was extremely unsettling to see as most of the positions had to be impossible to achieve by mere chance.

"SIR! Look up head in the clearing!"

William looked at the visual and in the darkness, right in the middle of the clearing, floated Harvey's tactical cruiser, the Ceres was unharmed.

"Thank god." William breathed a sigh of relief. "Raise him for me please." He waited until Harvey's face appeared on his screen, the man looked at him blankly through the screen. "What the heck do you think you're doing scaring me like that!?"

"...Did you follow His words?" The man said and William felt a stab of confusion. "To here, to this place?"

William looked at the visuals of his surroundings and felt his face drain of blood. Piles upon piles of ships may at the bottom of this clearing, some still clearly smoking from recent death.

"Okay your buddy is going to need to do his own scavenging, this ain't right Harvey, lets warp out of here."

"Yes I brought Him a gift."

The line was delivered by Harvey, but the private link had changed to a general channel. He watched as from the shadows tactical cruisers of all types slunk out to surround him, like rats eyeing their next meal. William probably would of laughed at this had it not been so weird, and even if tactical cruisers weren't high damage, enough of them around each other could make them impossible to kill.

The tactical officer looked up at him. "I've got 27 of them on screen, the sensor fog beyond that I can't tell if more are hiding." She whispered.

"Okay Harvey, jokes over." William said. "I'm leaving and you're coming with me."

"HAIL." Came the cacophony voices over the channel and he made a cutting motion to the communications section and the man threw his hands up in confusion. He couldn't close it. "HAIL. PRAISE HIM."

"This is getting old, helm, get us out of here." William snapped.

"Can't! Warpdrive is getting gummed up, it won't jump us out!"

"Oh Great Savior, Our Protector, Our Sword, Our Life, accept this gift so that we may bask in your eternal light!" Someone chanted over the channel over the various continuing to cry 'PRAISE HIM', getting louder and louder as the Otranto's crew tried to make sense of what was happening.

Then silence.

"Praise be unto Him, the Immortal Dreadnought."

An alarm shrilled in warning.


A dreadnought warped in in front of the destroyer, old and massive, the ship had obviously seen its share of battles. He wasn't even sure what type it was, and right now it didn't matter.

"Helm get us out of here now." William snapped.

The destroyer surged forward and up to clear the walls of the canyon, over the dreadnought. As it passed the dreadnought it unloaded everything into the old ship except the nuke, they were too close for that. He felt his ship rumble as the shields took their first hits and that uncloseable channel was filled with unintelligible screams as the dreadnought turned slowly to pursue. Not even a scratch. The swarm of tactical cruisers was faster and were already flowing over the walls of the canyons like vermin after him. The ship launched its first salvo of torpedoes into one of the pursuers and it didn't do anything, the light of their healing painting the swarm in lime green light and a spider web of lines that moved and flowed like a creature of its own.

"make us disappear helm!" William said as watched his shield gauge begin to blink red in warning. The ship nose dived down into a canyon, twisted around a corner, brushing the ground like it had wheels. "Kill everything that has power."

"But Sir we..."

"I Said KILL IT."

The ship's power died and it came to rest under a small arch. This probably wouldn't work, but they needed to get away from the swarm. One or two they could deal with, not 20+.

"Alright what the f..."

"Not now." William cut the man off. "Helm, see about getting the warp up, com try to burn a message through the sensor clutter, we need some help."

"Aye Sir."

Hours felt like days as they sat there, trying to get a call out for help or repair the mysteriously broken warp while shutting down and going quiet whenever a tactical cruiser flew over. They hadn't been spotted, yet. The rocks were beginning to gain shades of red, speaking of a close approaching day. Either they would be stuck here till help stumbled over them, or they move somewhere with less jamming. Risky, but they could not sit here forever.

"Alright, take us up carefully." William said, watching as the Otranto rose out of the canyon and above the arch. He was about to command full speed ahead, get them out of here.

"So that's where you were. Nice hiding spot."

William looked down in surprise at Harvey's grinning face and William knew him well, that wasn't a smile he'd ever seen on his face before. "I will hurt you next time I see you, pulling a prank like that. Don't do stuff like that to me, you'll get us both killed!" William sighed. "Can you at least lift the jamming or whatever you're using so I can warp out of here and we can go get a beer?"

"Do you praise His name? Bask in the light of His glory and grace?"Harvey said the smile growing wider as the tactical cruiser moving closer, almost touching noses with the destroyer. "His word is no laughing matter, you are a gift, what is given is taken." Harvey paused looking out with the blank expression again. "Praise be unto Him, the Immortal Dreadnought."

"PRAISE HIM!!!" the scream near deafening as tactical cruisers began to surge up out of the canyons around him and surround him, bathing his ship in harsh whitish purple beams, burning away the hull layer by layer. "PRAISE HIM!!""PRAISE HIM!""PRAISE HIM""PRAISE PRAISE PRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISEPRAISE" the chanting continued as the destroyer attempted to push through the swarm, the destroyers weapons doing nothing to the tactical cruisers around it all the while damage warnings blared at the crew as their ship began to fall apart.

Then silence, the purple beams disappearing. The swarm parted.

The dreadnought was here, its broadside aimed at the weakened Otranto. William gripped the arms of his chair, staring with hatred, fear, and confusion at it. "Launch the nuke." He said, it was their only hope, and even this close, he wasn't getting out of here alive. Least he could do was hurt it before he went down. "It was a pleasure to fight with you all."

Both ships fired, and then the dreadnought turned away from the expanding ball of flames that had once been a destroyer, its swarm of tactical cruisers close behind, and nuclear hellfire exploded around it.

It emerged unbothered and its tactical cruisers gathered around it, murmuring their praises while their healing beams smoothed over their god, to await the next gift for Him.

Praise Be Unto Him, the Immortal Dreadnought

The Trident Dreadnought, for when you need firepower, but not right now.

Posted: //
Oct. 27, 2017, 7:55 p.m.

Updated //
Oct. 28, 2017, 3:13 a.m.

 The Demon's Hand

The Old House of Oberon served Captain Rigley well. Rigley’s Gravis had taken a nasty hit from squad of artillery cruisers lying in wait for trade ships and fighters returning to orbit from a common launch zone. By some stroke of fortune and wit he and his crew sent two of them to an icy grave, the wind and snow howling as they burned, falling to the surface while Mourning Glory limped away into the closest mountain range where an old dry dock that flew the Oberon colors remained from The Solar War. The dry dock still pinged that it was active, miraculously. The remaining cruisers made a sound decision and cloaked away while his Gravis glided to the old station nestled between two peaks.

His navigator, known only as Shadow, did exceedingly well in removing themselves from the seemingly losing situation. Rigley shivered from the moons chill as he nodded to Shadow, passing by the many controls to check on the rest of his crew. "How soon can we be off this cold rock, Shadow?" Rigley said in passing. "I wouldn't say more than seven solar hours, Captain," Shadow said without a hint of emotion. "Good," let’s not spend any longer than we have to on this barren moon." He knew that old curmudgeon Bix would have never paid so well for a simple survey run, so be it, they were alive.

Rigley had quick exchanges with the rest of the shaken and freezing crew making sure systems were nominal for atmospheric exit. Rigley was a stern but oddly kind man, earning the nickname Slowseas during his time as a nautical pilot. Decisive and paced was the foremost qualities of his character, more so of his tactical abilities. He was not a fearful man yet he itched to be gone of this historic moon, Ganymede. He returned to the pilot throne and ordered hot beverages with a small ration of liquor for the bridge crew. It was against intergalactic regulations and the crew knew it, yet with the chill creeping through the hull and the brush with death was enough to scoff and words written on parchment. Not more than an hour passed and spirits lifted a bit as the mechanical whir and hum of the damaged ship lulled Rigley into an exhausted stupor. Rigley hadn't slept in at least two solar days and nodded off during repairs.

A slight jarring and sweep of the ship to starboard woke him to buzzing sensors and hushed voices implying chaos. "What's going on?" He boomed across the bridge, trying to hold in the rage he held against himself for falling asleep. "Sir, a cat four blizzard formed and swept upon us quicker than you could imagine," Lilah, the newest addition to the crew, squeaked out. Rigley nodded knowingly. He had heard of the fierce storms amongst stranger things from the Oberon elders.

"Well, do we need to prep an anchoring crew, or can we manage with thrusters and the cannon moun-" Shadow cut Captain Rigley short, "the ground party is being assembled and geared right now, sir." Rigley stared out the bay window fifteen yards from the pilot throne he sat upon for a moment, pondering the completely white flurry of the frozen water hiding the surface of Ganymede from view. He sat stock still while contemplating against better judgement, the chill of the bridge biting at his toes and fingers. "I'm going with them, take the throne Shadow." No one argued against the brash decision, his crew all knew his bloodlines and the history that the moon held. "How far are we from this dry dock, Shadow?" Shadow whipped his head from his controls to the nearest monitor. "Two hundred and fifteen yards, sir." "Alright, find us some solid ground to blast a rod into, basement level – sector one is where we will breach.”

Rigley watched for a moment as the crew fell into departed captain roles, they were a fine bunch, he thought to himself. Intelligent and trustworthy. He made for the stairwell that descended into the belly of his dreadnought, a fine mist escaping his mouth as he trotted down the metallic steps. That itch was still there. They needed gone of this place, he knew that much. Too many had died on this rock in the past, he wouldn’t let that happen to his crew. He arrived at the basement level and quickly walked to the nose of the Gravis, an air of command permeating about him as the tanker men and engineers dotting the corridor paused and brought their fist to their shoulders in salute. When he arrived in sector one the ground party had already suited up, the Captain’s Aid stood waiting with Rigley’s jump suit and rifle. He quickly suited up and shouldered the strap on the scout rifle while checking the seals on his helmet. Before he knew it they were all on the lift, dropping out of the vacuum and into the hellish cold of Ganymede.

Their descent was not kind. Rigley and his party of four were knocked about as the ship swayed in the heightening storm, Lilah chiming in on coms to let them know that it was only going to get worse. The two men of the group, aside from the Captain, shouldered the anchoring rod, a dusty old thing that likely hadn’t been used since the previous captain. The two joked about heavy lifting while the two women of the group smiled mirthfully with their scout rifles tipped towards the two men’s toes. “Stand down, Oberon,” Rigley rasped into his mic. “No funny business while we are on the surface.” The party nodded to him as the lift stopped a meter from the ground. The anchor rod went first into the fresh snow, then Rigley, followed by the rest of the party. “How far from the nose, Shadow?” Shadow’s stark voice sounded even more robot-like across coms, “fifty yards towards Jupiter on the horizon, sir, there should be a patch of gravel that will handle us.” They took up the rod and trudged through the snow as quickly as possible. The wind whipped at them and threatened to blow them either off the small shelf of ice or into the foundation of the ancient dock. Fifty yards isn’t very far to walk on a nice day on Old Earth, but on a dead moon with gravity shifting constantly and an unnatural wind screeching into your soul, it’s nearly an eternity.

Just as their boots hit gravel a sharp explosion from behind them signaled the incoming anchor line. A red laser dot formed at the center of the patch of gravel and ice and not long after an inch thick nanite cord landed squarely on the dot. The ball joint that carried the cord through the air lazily rolled away from the fading laser sight and one of the women jogged to catch it before it got too far. The small crew quickly distributed from their packs and built the anchor assembly, fitting the heavy rod to the top of it, waiting for Rigley’s word to charge it with the anchor line. They all stepped back from the device, the line almost taught from the ship steadily growing more violent in its movement above the surface. “Line ignition ETA?” Rigley asked of the coms. “Lightning away!” Lilah said almost merrily in response. The line went straight as an arrow as electricity ran the length of it, the rod pointed into the gravel breaking the sound barrier as it blasted into the moon’s surface. The ship quit rocking immediately, energy pulsating off the anchor line. With that came a distinct rumble and hum from the dry dock. They all turned in shock at the deep thrashing of breaking ice.

Decades of snow and ice jettisoned away from the ancient structure, lights turning on all around, bay doors grinding open and auto turrets lazily reaching into the sky out of their dusty and frozen silos. The nearest turret swiveled and locked onto the party, the rest locking onto Mourning Glory. All was still as both ground and dreadnought crew awaited their demise. Old House Oberon had awakened from its slumber and meant to massacre its descendants. “Uh, Captain?” The Weapons Major, Clute, whispered into the coms. “All weapons offline and shields down, now,” Rigley said calmly. His alias, Slowseas, began to manifest as it had many times before. His Gravis was stock still on the humming anchor line, no sheen of shields or hiss of cannons at attention. The dry dock stayed trained on the ship and ground party, what could only be an old A.I. not satisfied that they were Oberon. “Let’s go for a walk, crew, there may be some piece of history to glean from The Old House,” Rigley commanded.

They again took another long walk through flurry and snow, the heavy powder crunching underneath their boots as they meandered towards the yawning and ominous bay door nearest them. “This is unwise,” Shadow hissed into the coms. Rigley ignored him and so did his ground crew. They passed the threshold into the dead come alive dry dock, immediately finding themselves in a cavernous and mostly empty hanger, save for a small ship. One of the men gasped loudly as he tripped over what looked like a jumble of cloth from a pilot suit and rocks covered in dust and ice. They all turned to see why he had gasped. It was a skeleton with flesh still sticking to its bones, empty sockets peering through a long-broken visor. “Expect more of this -- we are in the old war zone,” Rigley said solemnly. They all recovered (mostly) and kept walking, their path aimed towards the lone ship anchored near the command loft. Their steps echoed for what seemed like an eternity off the metallic gangways, ramps and catwalks threatening to drive more than a couple of them to grinding their teeth. They mounted the last stair case to the single ship. Rigley smiled once they drew close to it, the others stood in awe as he approached the gangway and anchor terminal. He noticed a small demon mask donned the front of the sleek ship, the entire thing whispered of smooth death. He tapped a few keys tentatively while looking at some characters imprinted in the sheet metal it was housed in. No response. The controls or the ship were dead, everything about them a husk of its former glory. The tallest woman chimed, “It’s an old Mithras, Captain?” The crew, though shivering and alert of the danger they could be in brimmed with excitement. “Aye. A very old model, the only one of its kind flown by only one pilot during the Solar War.” He smiled as pride coursed through his veins, warming his bones.

The platform they stood upon groaned as if being smothered by their combined weight, shifting slightly, causing the supports under and above them to rattle loudly. “Let us move into the command quarters and see what we see. I’d rather not test this old facility any longer than we have to,” Rigley said as he moved towards the next flight of steps. They all fell in line behind him and trotted up the stairs, their rifles barely clearing the steps. The blast door was swung open when they reached the landing and they filed in slowly, all of them snapping on their lights and rifles to attention in the eerie space. Illuminating their surroundings caused the male that had tripped on the corpse to wretch into his helmet, bile filling his helmets scrubbers. It looked as if the entire command crew had shriveled at their stations. Rigley winced at the twisted body lounging halfcocked upon the controls of the command throne. Unfortunately, they were not in a pilot suit to hide their grotesque shapes. They all wore the now rare fleece uniforms, dry rotted and tattered from the years of exposure to the harsh atmosphere and open door. Rigley quickly scanned the scene for the outpost log, or black box it would have been called in the earlier days. He approached the wretched commander and gently shoved him into in a sitting posture, heavy black dust falling off the bones. “Chemical weapons,” the smaller woman said with violence and disgust in her voice. She tried covering her mouth, but her helmet blocked the gesture. Rigley fiddled with the controls in the standing position and the with a few clicks of the keys the room went from small blinking and static lights here and there to full system activation. It almost seemed normal with the lights and computers buzzing at full steam, aside from the numerous bodies rotting slowly into oblivion. Rigley jammed a lever near the underside of the command booth and pulled on it hard, a greenish metallic box ejecting halfway out of the terminal.

“CAPTAIN!” Shadow yelled over the coms.

Something had to be wrong, in all his years he had never heard Shadow raise his voice.

“Yes, Senior Navigator,” Rigley replied as calm as he could.

With a mustered ounce of composure Shadow responded, “Sir, I am seeing more dots on this board than I have in many, many moons.”


“Unknown sir, they are massed together in an unfamiliar pattern.”

“It could be those unorganized bastards we sent to hades, back with more friends.”

An awkward and inhuman giggle bounced all about the command center and throughout the empty hanger.


The ground party was terror stricken and the bridge crew was dumbfounded. Rigley looked about and knew immediately what he was about to deal with.

“What is your current protocols, Oberon?” Rigley asked the dead air about him.

A moment of stricken and fearful silence.

“Don’t play games with ME, captain!” The shrill voice blasted over the command speakers and into their headsets. “Do you want to die by my hand or your enemies?”

Rigley knew these old creatures, hyper intelligent A.I. that used to pilot all the old drones, some of the ships and served House Oberon during the wars. Not to be meddled with if you were not their master.

“I will die on my own terms and by my own hand for I am the blood of Oberon,” Rigley said with power and gusto. Again, he was not a fearful man but he had never encountered an old world A.I. nor been in such a precarious situation. He hid the sick and gnawing sensation in his gut well.

Another moment of agonizing silence.

“So be it Captain. We meet the coming wave together! It’s been TOO LONGGHAHAHAAAA!” The murderous machine’s laugh trailed off into the depths of the installation.

The anchors of the old Mithras came undone outside the command loft and the propulsion systems on it screamed as if it had just come off its makers assembly rack.

The interaction with the A.I. and the ancient ship coming off its anchors happened so quickly none of them noticed the blast door had shut itself. Or the insane A.I. had closed it. One of the men ran over to it and pulled hard. “It’s locked sir.”

“Uh… Or-orders, Rigley?” Shadow said shakily into their ears.

“Break anchor, and move into the hanger as fast as you can manage,” Rigley replied. “Do not make our presence known.”

“TOO LATE, CAPTAIN.” The A.I. matched the screaming of the Mithras and warped through the ceiling of the hanger, leaving a trail of plasma and ice in its wake. Explosions and the purring of cannons could be heard immediately. The whole mountain shook as bandit cruisers started firing back, one of them immediately mortally wounded and fallen into the already distressed installation.

Mourning Glory inched away from its broken anchor and moved towards the main bay door. Shadow trying to keep as low the ground as possible and out of sight. “There’s so many of them, Captain. I don’t know how we will survive this.” As Rigley was about to respond his ground party looked to him in terror but ardent fervor -- he nearly laughed. They were in the command station. “Everyone to stations that you have had some form of training on, I know you aren’t bridge qualified, but this is life or death, man the controls, comrades!” They immediately jumped at his order. Rigley moved to the corpse at the command throne and tore the lifeless thing from the chair. The others scanned quickly their new posts and did the same, heavy black dust coming off the chemically charred bodies filled the room. “Scrambler arrays, weapons, shields and facility locks all online, full executive control given to all operators! Shadow, get Mourning Glory inside the docks shields, now!”

“AYE SIR!” Shadow boomed into coms. The Gravis was just about to enter the hanger door as two destroyers came over the icy ridge and immediately rained fire on it. Shields went up and a full array of broadside plasma arced out of Mourning Glory like the first rays of sunshine on the horizon. It was a full connect on the furthest destroyer, both ships underestimating the aim and dexterity of the Mourning Glory’s crew. Armor amplifiers went up as the second round of hot cannon plasma came down on the Gravis. Mourning Glory's repeater guns began to choke from the heat, even in the subzero atmosphere. The Gravis was almost into the hanger, shields nearly depleted, hanging on by a thread, bay door beginning to close. All eyes widened at the miracle that happened next. The broadside recharge screamed. Green fury punched through the air and demolished the first destroyer, the last quarter of the volley shredding the side of the bay doorframe as they pulled completely into the hanger. The Demon-Faced-Mithras appeared directly above the last destroyer and one blast pulse sent it to its icy grave. A brief and notably evil cackle came out of the command speakers. The bay door closed. The occupants of the dead command center began to wheeze and cough, though trying to cheer. Turrets still blazing. Rigley still hammering orders into the coms and the controls. The whole enemy platoon convened on the dock.

The mad A.I. said to Rigley and Rigley only, “I am arming the facilities nukes, your ships crew will be saved and I will see they make it home,” the facility rumbled and parts of it began to collapse, “But you, dear captain, your scrubbers aren’t graded for the chemicals that you disturbed in the command center. I am truly sorry. By your hand, Captain.”

Rigley knew he wouldn’t be leaving the facility soon as he saw the black dust. He hadn’t the heart to tell the ground party that was now choking and spasming about him. His ship lives on, his crew lives on. “I’m sorry, comrades. You fought well,” he broadcasted to his entire crew. All but one of his ground party lay prostrate across the controls now. She turned and smiled weakly, her eyes nearly blackened by the vile chemical bubbling in all of their helmets scrubbers, “We all read about this in academy, Captain. God speed, sir.” She crumpled into her chair and didn’t move.

Rigley wheezed and blinked as darkness quickly set in for him as well. “We did our best, Shadow. Take care of her for me, eh? And give Bix sharp business for all this.”

Shadow smiled and nearly wept in response, “God Speed, Rigley.”

The nukes were primed. With a defiant fist Rigley smashed the keyed box and hammered the warhead button into the console.

A thunderous wrath shook Ganymede off its axis and a shrill laugh could be heard across the entire Solar Systems open coms. The Demon purred over the crackling wreckage and turmoil, quite pleased with itself.

"More trophies for OBERONHAAHAAHAAAAAA!"

When in doubt, warp it out.

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