BATTLEFRONT – CHAPTER 1 - THE RESTORATION

Epilogue

Many years from now, in the future…mankind will unlock the secrets of the galaxy. We will build planet-sized space stations; we will travel through vast amounts of space and have billions of descendants across the stars. Humanity’s territory will expand light-years upon light-years and then we will join together and then we will unite as a glorious empire.  Then as we reach out to the galaxies and its other inhabitants, there will be a disturbance in life’s order… WAR!

For many years the galaxy will be in turmoil and the great evil which will distort the natural order of life shall bring about nothing but intergalactic wars and suffering. Humans will go against aliens, aliens will go against other aliens and everyone will stand up against all manner of evil which is everywhere in everyone’s misguided eyes…

To us this is the world of the future is millennia upon millennia in the making…

But for some, the future is now!

As the future burns in our eyes, it is brimming with the blood of the innocent and guilty alike. In such a cold, unforgiving and murdering universe, there is little time for the luxuries of mercy, generosity or kindness. War is what drives you, it will teach you and when your blood-stained body hits the ground, it consumes you…

The time is near, though, the time for galactic order to be restored. Peace shall and shall not reign over the lands…

The End is coming…

It is here at this time in the future that we join Alistor, a seasoned warrior of the Imperial Capital Planetary Defence Force. After years of banishment from his home, Alistor has recently declared his new goal to become an elite Hypirium warrior and reclaim his lost honour by fighting in the name of the empire and its great emperor. Despite his years of fighting enemy incursions and putting down insidious rebellions, he knows he is has a long way to go to become a fully trained Hypirium warrior. With the well wishes of his friends from exile, Alistor set out through the stars, and after a long journey, he has come to a host world,  a world where the Hypirium warriors set up a temple for the recruitment and training of new apprentices before they are sent to a fleet of crusaders who will fight for the empire. One such world is Tudor VI, the militarized planet not so far from the one which Alistor has landed upon to begin his quest…

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MISSION 1

In the dark shadows of the galaxy where few tread, sinister beings sat and conspired. Many of them hushed in corners plotting galactic strife, others fighting in the midst, torturing and killing of others just for pleasure. The screams of pain and horror filled these chambers.

All of these villainous beings performing acts to please their lust for inflicting pain and all manner of suffering, when the huge chamber doors opened.

They all parted to let a dark towering figure enter into the room, his name was Black Wraith, “the time has come, our master has summoned us to do his bidding once more” said Black Wraith to the crowd before he turned to the chamber entrance from which he had just entered and he bowed.

Following his lead, they all bowed or knelt down and showed their respect as their master entered the room, the true shadow of the universe, master of all evil, the author of all atrocities, and the architect of all things diabolical that had been, were and would be...

“Gather the hordes,” the Dark Creator rasped in a terrible voice that brought foreboding and fear to all who heard it, “the third crusade is about to begin…

MEANWHILE, FAR, FAR AWAY IN THE TUDORIAN SYSTEM…. 

On the south side of the rather dilapidated planet of Tudor V, in one of the old space ports, Alistor Sanderson was preparing for his long journey to the Crimson Knights Hypirium temple on the second moon of Tudor VI.

Already in his mid thirties, Alistor was a tall, well-built man with a constant serious expression on his face, his dark brown hair was a curly mess that had a slight parting on the right side of his head. He wore a light grey travelling cloak with a matching tunic and pants.

It was a few hours after he had landed, and he had just gone shopping with what remained of his earnings from his odd jobs in exile, using it to buy food, healing canisters, extra ammunition and a large grinding stone to sharpen his combat sword.

Alistor had just finished buying the last of his supplies and had been sitting in an old rundown inn, where travellers, pilots and other assortments of characters constantly passed through for a drink and some strange selections of food.

Alistor himself was waiting for a shuttle flight that would take him to the second moon of Tudor VI.

Looking out a window, Alistor watched the raindrops splatter against the glass ‘After a while of travelling through towns and planetary space ports, they all begin to look the same, a dull greyish-brown mix of activity, where the imperial citizens of the empire go about their daily business,’ as he thought to himself, he sighed “all waiting for something to happen to them, rather than seeking it out. Mainly because they don’t have to” he said this to no one in particular.  Although for most in the galaxy, speaking to oneself was viewed as insanity, Alistor found it quite comforting to talk to himself sometimes.

Other times it was just plain creepy.

Anyway, through his eyes such were most outer-rim imperial worlds (or at least the one’s he’d seen anyway), unfortunately, they were falling into decay.

The worlds basically had very little food or medical supplies and their economies in a mess. A lot of the money that was collected was gotten from the heavy taxes imposed to the citizens, and in exchange for that money the planet would be given weapons and supplies to defend themselves from possible enemy invasions, for survival one could say. It all actually depended on how you viewed it, a case of perception.

The reasons for this method of ruling and the ‘heavy taxes for weapons policy’ was not that the planetary governors were corrupt or anything (or not in that sense at least), for they too were constantly having to surrender any supplies they had to the people for fear that the Imperial Judges would come.

Everything was in bad condition, houses, buildings and structures in general. Things were rusting and wearing away

…even the inn Alistor was in had slanting walls and the beams that supported the roof were looking termite infested, rotten, each rather uneven in height with makeshift tables and chairs for customers

Staring down at his own plate of ‘grub’ as they called it, Alistor would not be surprised if these were native insect grubs all still alive and wriggling in his plate.

No.

He decided firmly that he would not eat these. And somehow, the drink looked like reused sewage…no matter how clean the bartender said it was.

‘This,’ thought Alistor, ‘is what is happening in the galaxy, this constant war has been bleeding the people dry, bring down living conditions and lives of the innocent and the warriors lost every day.’

It was a tragic situation in Alistor's opinion, the war had been going on since before he was born, and it still went on to today and no solution could be found. No common ground that any party could agree on or at least none that any party was willing to agree on.

And by that, all negotiations were made using force and brutality.

That was the status of the 600 plus year old war.

As Alistor looked at the large clock across the room next to the counter, he recalled why he was on this dilapidated planet, so far away from his home…

He had committed a crime of unspeakable horror, causing him to lose his family honour and his father had no choice but to banish him from his home to prevent the alternate punishment…Death…

And now, to recover that honour he would try to enlist in the elite imperial corps, the Hypirium warriors, and fight to regain his honour.

As he was thinking about this, he decided to check the travelling sack he had brought with him, as he reached into the sack, he pulled out a framed picture of his family and thought about what he was doing…

‘I am doing the right thing,’ he assured himself. For many months now, as he had travelled to Tudor VI, Alistor had growing doubts about what he was doing and now these doubts, fears, and his growing anger within him were beginning to become some other being within him…a dark opposite within his character who whispered tales of fear and loss into Alistor’s mind, ‘you have become nothing, and nothing is all you can give. In the end you will fail and than all that will be left is painful memories and your wilting wasted soul’ 

Hearing this in his mind, Alistor felt a stab of emotional pain as he recalled his family… Alistor had once been an imperial storm officer, he was defending his home world…he failed to protect his mother and siblings against…

Suddenly, his melancholic thoughts were interrupted by the slow, rhythmic chime of the large misshapen grandfather clock…it was five thirty-six, and his shuttle was to leave in the next fifteen minutes, “time to go,” grumbled Alistor to no one in particular as he got off his chair, picked up his travelling sack and left his rotting food to rot.