Wyrm-Mk1

Lore
The ringing claxon of a red alert jerked Cedrus awake in his berth. Years of military training had instilled an instinct into the warrior that could not be ignored. He reached wearily for the com panel at the side of his bunk with one hand, the other pulling his flight suit's helmet from its rack above him.

"Tactical, report." Cedrus' voice belied none of the fatigue he felt. As Warlord of the First Fleet, he could not allow his subordinates to see any weakness. Their morale depended on his calm and confidence and he would be damned if he would jeopardize all that he had already gained just because he was tired.

"Type two event, Warlord. In the Tyrian expanse." At the young ensign's words, all of the sleep-born weariness the warlord had felt disappeared. Moving more quickly now, he zipped his flight suit closed and settled the helmet over his head, its seamless black plasteel face hiding his glee even as the airtight seal about his neck closed itself automatically.

"Move us into position. Scramble the pilots. I will lead the flight to battle." With a tap at the comlink on his wrist, he cut off the call, walking to the hatch of his cabin with a purposeful stride. Finally, he thought as he stepped through the hatchway, the moment has come, just as she said it would.

The command deck of Man's Glory was a bustle of activity. As Cedrus made his way to the grav-tube that would take him to the flight deck, he felt pride in what he had accomplished. These were his soldiers, men and women who had had struggled and fought to become the best warriors humanity could muster. They had to be, for they fought a desperate battle against forces far more powerful than they: The monstrous entities their ancestors had called the Titans.

Millennia ago, these powerful beings had come to their world, wielding power the likes of which humanity had never seen. Once, they had been worships as gods, but the Titans had taken that veneration and used it to enslave humanity, warping time - time itself - to ensure that mankind could develop no further than simple farmers, too afraid of the titan's power to rise up against them. But, Cedrus thought with a cruel smile, that had changed when one of their own moved against them.

As if summoned by the thought, the lithe form of Marasel appeared next to him in the hallway, her skin tight flight suit solid black but trimmed in glowing lines of orange light that Cedrus found hard to look at. She seemed, at best, 35 years of age, but Cedrus knew better than to trust his eyes around the servant of the Titan called the Chaos. The Chaos made its home in the singularity at the center of the galaxy, preserved there against the ravishes of time and his fellow titans in equal measure. Cedrus had no reason to think his servants were any different. Who knew what the woman called Marasel really looked like?

"Does it matter?" Marasel asked, an amused smile visible beneath her helmet momentarily as they stepped into the grav-tube.

Cedrus answered angrily, "Stay out of my head, witch."

"Oh," Marasel said in mock praise, "But it is so wonderful in there. So like the thoughts of my master. You think in circles and spirals, in mazes with no straight line. It is a pity you will not meet my master when this is done." Again, that smile became visible in her helmet, twisted and cruel, "You would like him."

Cedrus said nothing as they stepped out of the grav-tube. The last thing he wanted was to meet the Chaos, or any titan, for that matter. His goal was that no human would ever meet a Titan, not now and not even in the past, if he could manage it. That was the goal of today's mission.

A "Type Two Event" was nothing short of a fold in the fabric of space and time. Fleeting and momentary, these incongruities with reality were disastrous when encountered, typically sending ships hurtling through time and space to meet grim fates at the end of the universe or die alone, too far from humanity's territory to make it back before shortages of fuel and food ensured slow death for their crews. This time, though, Cedrus hoped that things would be different. Each of his pilots, himself included, would be flying a new type of Starfighter, the Wyrm Mk. 1. At the heart of each lay a micro singularity, both its source of power and the mechanism by which Cedrus hoped to harness time itself to fight his war for him.

Cedrus looked out over the flight deck to the egress. A massive field of force held the void beyond at bay, warping the view ever so slightly, but it did little to obstruct the warlord's view of the three massive starships his force would soon fly against.

At the center of the trio was Tyr's Golden Hall, the largest strike carrier Cedrus had ever seen. Already, he could see the draconic forms of Tyr's fighters, their bronze skins scintillating in the light of the nearby collapsing star. They were Autodrakes, mk. 40s, the most dangerous fighters plying the stars to date. Designed by the cursed inventor Chamfer, servant of Tyr, and using the technologies of the Titans, they were more than a match for any standard fighter Cedrus and his pilots could muster.

But, then again, the Wyrm Mk. 1 was no standard fighter. Cedrus' smile blossomed into a grin of anticipation as he mounted the ladder leading to the flight seat of his own ship. He turned to Marasel, standing alone on the flight deck and saluted.

"Give your master my thanks. Should this battle be ours, I will fulfill my end of the bargain. I will destroy the heart of time."

Marasel returned the salute and turned to walk away, disappearing from view as she did. Frowning, the warlord activated his Starfighter and flew it through the force field to join his pilots. It's activate avionics causing its tail to swish back and forth through the air, like a thing alive. Like a dragon of old, he thought smugly.

With a taut command through his comlink, Cedrus ordered his flight of Wyrms to cross the distance between Man's Glory and the Golden Hall. He knew that the other two ships, Astaroth's Hellfire and Hyperion's Light of Law, would pose a serious threat to his pilots, but it was the carrier, Golden Hall, that posed the greatest risk and he knew he must dispatch it before the star collapsed completely and the type two event they had come to harness, dissipated forever.

His fighters had barely crossed half the distance between them before they were met by Tyr's autodrakes, Chamfer himself piloting their lead fighter. The diminutive servant of Tyr held a golden scepter in his hand and, as Cedrus watched, he held it aloft and activated it, surrounding his autodrake in a shimmering sphere of energy. One of Cedrus' fighters banked in for a vicious attack run, but as the Starfighter crossed the boundary of the energy field it seemed to crawl to stop, as if frozen in time, making the hapless pilot easy prey for Chamfer's autodrake. Even as the Starfighter exploded, Cedrus smiled. That could only be Chamfer's famed Chronosphere. Such a device could not function if the heart of time was not near. Everything was as Marasel promised it would be. Which meant the time was now.

"This is Cedrus, activate the Chronocannon."

As the warlord dodged enemy fire, he craned his neck to look back at his flagship, Man's Glory. A brilliant nimbus of orange light was forming at the ship's prow, slowly stretching forth like a tendril of bound lightning towards the collapsing star. Space seemed to pulse and warp around that light, twisting itself around the beam even as it lanced into the star. Even through the void of space there was a sound, crackling and stuttering as the star exploded, it sounded to Cedrus almost like laughter. The star's explosion spread as a great wave, the orange K-type star shrugging off its outer shell in one great heave. His wyrm was shielded from its effect, he remembered, but it did not stop him from flinching as the wave passed through the battle.

While the Wyrms may have been shielded, the bronze autodrakes, were not so lucky. One by one they burst into flame, trailing great clouds of ionized plasma behind them, only Chamfer, protected by the shimmering field of the Chronosphere, seemed unaffected and with a snarl, the tiny servant of Tyr worked his controls, diving straight for Cedrus, hoping to salvage victory from this defeat.

Cedrus rolled his Wyrm right, narrowly avoiding Chamfer's fire even as he twisted his wyrm into a flat spin to bring its missiles to bear. Savagely Cedrus thumbed the launch control, sending wave after wave of explosive rockets after the bronze autodrake. But then, the greater effect of the Chronocannon made itself known as great rents opened in the fabric of space-time around them. Through each, Cedrus could see a different time and a different place. In one a massive space battle, just like this one, played out in the short space between two great capital ships. Small ships of every color tumbled and twisted around each other. In another, a pastoral shepherd's paddock next to a river, and in a third, dragons flew the skies, each with a rider atop them, holding a weapon of immense power.

Each rip in space was a window into a different time, a different place, but Cedrus had to be careful to choose the right one, or the plan would fail. Even as he scanned the holes in the void, Cedrus wondered if Chamfer had figured it out, but decided the inventor had not. Surely Chamfer would do more to stop Cedrus, if he had.

In the end, it mattered little if Chamfer had determined the purpose of the warlord's attack. Cedrus had found the portal he needed, as evidenced by the swirling mass of gray clouds seen beyond. It was the formation of the Titan's Pact, the moment when the heart of time was leashed to the will of the Titans and it was that moment that Cedrus sought. He banked his Wyrm towards the tear in space, ignoring Chamfer and his bronze autodrake and dove straight for its opening, intent on riding his shielded wyrm through time to that moment, but ignoring the diminutive inventor was a mistake, for Chamfer had seen the warlord's plan.

The warlord's Starfighter was too far away for the autodrake's weapons, but they were not the only tricks in Chamfer's arsenal. With a roar, he stood up in the saddle and, thumbing the chronosphere's activation controls, he hurled it towards the warlord. The golden scepter swung end over end, slowing time around it. Even as Cedrus breached the portal, the edge of the chronosphere's time dilation field touched the warlord and skewed his path so that he fell, not through the portal he sought, but to a newly opening portal nearby. The Chronosphere followed, missing both portals to fall instead through a third, to land who knows where.

As the portal snapped shut behind Cedrus, he was buffeted by forces he had never seen. All around him lightning flashed in clouds of gray, but he could sense that something was wrong. Between the deafening crashes of thunder he could hear the sounds of battle, but there should be none at the moment he sought! A sickening feeling grabbed him even as he broke through the clouds to see mountains and grass and, in the valley below him, the forms of three dragons and their riders, locked in magical combat.

No! Cedrus thought as he worked desperately to regain control in the suddenly thick air, this is not my destiny!

Tips
Using the dragon's abilities consumes the dragon's health...fire carefully.