The Light of Hope

June 07, 2018, 10:09:08 PM

stardate -628727.123

[ Haelom Maridon | Bridge | Tier 1 | Central Deck | Tyn Bronwe ]

The end was upon them. Haelom knew this. He could feel it in his galad, the light of his soul. Centuries of warfare against any and every race they came across. Their enemies grew with each day, in every direction. Wherever they looked, whomever they met, only hostility was shared by and alike. Ever since their ancestors had discovered their purpose, found the answers to which they were made, their lives had grown only so much harder. The Gîl Naur, the Lost Ones, or the other Defenders in the Forgotten Alliance could cast the light upon the yore enemy, Gúl Mor, the Nameless Dark Given Name, yet it was not them that they fought this day. Instead, they fought now with an enemy unlike any other that they had faced before. And today, he knew, would be his last. Which made it all the harder for him to part with his lovemate, Shä'Nyél Aênmilan, who, like him, sensed the end was coming.

Yet she was loremaster and the keeper of memory. Hers was the duty of living to pass on all knowledge of the Gîl Naur and their ways.

“Let me stay with you, my light,” said Shä'Nyêl, a tone of pleading in her voice, “the light cores have taken my last memory, and can away with all that we know. A better bearer than I ever will be.”

Haelom smiled wistfully at her, stroking her near-weightless hair, his every touch upon her bare form igniting both light and flames of bright dancing colours, the cascadium hull of the vessel irradiating their natural lights with its own refracted shining. He knew why she asked what she did despite her given duty. She was a warrior at heart, gentle as she was amongst Gîl Naur, yet none would mistake her as a Lost One, not one who so fiercely won her right to stand by his side in the dance of the light lances. Indeed, she had nearly slain her own sister for the right, how could he not accept her bravery and her love?

“You know the duty of your position, my star,” said Haelom, “would that I dare defy our Wisdoms and what they had said of our peoples, I would have you remain, for surely with you by our side, not even these Ùl Torog can prevail.”

“Yet you would see me on our fastest vessel for the Lost Ones.” It was not a question she asked, for she already knew the answer. Haelom, who loved her fierce as the storm, and the Morninglord of the Northern Stars, was a man bound by honor and duty, unto death. It was why she loved him. Their light entwined and burned like a thousand suns, but it was still never enough. Though they were united as one flesh, it was not he whom she will bear children for.

At least, not only him.

“I would face my end without fear, Shä'Nyêl, knowing that you live on, keeping the memory and the light of our people alive.” His hand stroked her forearm tenderly, “Let us speak no more of what is already foregone in agreement. And remember only the warmth of our flames.”

Tears poured down her cheeks, but Haelom said nothing, lest he shamed her pride, she drew closer to him and wept into his chest, “Bind with me one last time, my light.”

They made love, indulging with every fiber of their being, with a desperate and pained passion.

There was nothing to be said after, when they had gathered by the sunships. This was to be the final Voyage. The last generation of Gîl Naur to ever make the journey to rejoin the Lost Ones, to sew their light with their brethren, and preserve their own kind in some way. Thusly in the vast halls of the docks of Tyn Bronwe was filled with ten times the number of sojourners and sunships, even bridgers that would escort the smaller transports, especially the one bearing Shä'Nyêl, for she had one more task at Tyn Akir, and it was dangerously close to where the Ùl Torog were to gather. Casting one last look upon Haelom, she was then hidden from sight by the gates. He was about and returning to the bridge before the last sunship was away.

Leaping and gliding the last meters to the circle of light, he studied the starmaps, and noted with grim satisfaction that his lances and scorch beams were ready. In the last few generations, the Ùl Torog had grown their shields and armour to withstand the light of the Gîl Naur. Thusly, Haelom had led the research to strengthen their own weapons. They would not be prepared for the surprises the Morninglord had awaiting them.

When his warriors warned him of the arrival of the enemy vessels, he said to them, “I have been your Morninglord for ten cycles, and I have lived fifteen cycles before that as your kin. Live in the light, die without fear. We have looked into the abyss, and we know the enemy, and that which we fight. We honour the Eruan, those who come before us, and we will protect the gods, even as they themselves kill us for our duty. The light shine on.”

They echoed his final words even as their open hailing system received the "greeting" from the Ùl Torog in their filthy, guttural language, "Heghlu'meH QaQ jajvam!", Haelom issued his orders, “Draw the spears, and let us dance the light lances. Fire at the lead vessel, target the neck. We will exploit their stupidity.”

The Gîl Naur flagship, while small, was designed to be a weapons platform, and as the gun ports were exposed, the cannon turrets surrounding the bridge rotated their primary guns into place, and began blasting a hail of multi-coloured bolts of antiproton energy, immediately rotating a fresh set of barrels, repeating the process, so that by the third rotation, the first guns were ready to fire again. The spears and lances fired singular coherent beams, coring into the shields of the Ùl Torog ships, while the cannons battered the already weakened shields, and once they fell, Haelom brought to bear the third weapon: torpedoes.

“Present our flanks, deliver the torpedoes once we finish the first turn, and flip the ship about. We will unload into their leader.” He instructed, and as the ship twisted in space, the vessel's cascadium hull shone like nebula in the sun as beams, bolts and torpedoes fired not only into the lead ship, but its escorts as well, even as the other Gîl Naur warships followed the Morninglord in his charge, plowing through the hostile fleet. Their first assault tore into the enemy with such ferocity and force, and the lead ship was so utterly destroyed, the Tyn Bronwe burst through its wreckage suffering no damage. Nevertheless, the Ùl Torog danced the light lances well, despite being unenlightened fools, and in their first charge, none of the enemy was left, but he had lost one third of his own fleet, and he knew the battle was far from over.

One dozen of these Klingons as they called themselves, and that was not even a fraction of what they had.

A new fleet arrived as expected, and if they were as Haelom knew, his earlier method would not work any longer, and he would have to present a new strategy. Since a direct charge failed, they would now move to his flanks, surround his fleet.

“Your children depend on you to win this day, my brothers,” said Haelom, “remember what we learned. Engage the lightning shift.”

As the Tyn Bronwe rocked under a barrage from disruptors and Ùl Torog torpedoes, he could hear the cascadium hull shifting to expose yet another new surprise. They had been experimenting with their impulse engines, and developed a new trick that could interchange the positions of ships, where with linked computers and excellent helm controls, they could rotate vessels without hitting each other, presenting a ship with fresh shields and armour whilst the damaged vessel took a moment to recover and recharge weapons and anything else as was necessary. In an instant, the Tyn Bronwe had moved to be surrounded by its sister ships, rebuilding its shields, his fleet did this and attacked the Ùl Torog ships, interchanging the damaged ships with the freshly restored ones, and then shifting again. They prevailed, and soon they were surrounded by a ring of debris.

It was not going to work again.

More vessels dropped out of warp, and Haelom had no choice but to present their last hope. “Summon Morninglord Raelan,” he said, “tell him that it is time.”

Raelan had begun working on a different ship from the norm. While Haelom had directed the building of Tyn Bronwe to maintain its diminutive size, but to present a dazzling array of weaponry, Raelan favoured size, sheer power, and an impenetrable fortress. Indeed, when Haelom had seen what the man had designed, he was shocked, but it looked like it would work. The Star, as it was simply called, was over a thousand meters tall, and five hundred meters long.

It actually gave the Ùl Torog pause.

The hesitation lasted for all of a few seconds, before they were surging forward, attacking from a new angle, and in greater numbers. The Gîl Naur committed every last warrior to this battle, of which they could not prevail against this many foes. Two of his escorts had broken away from the fleet to pursue one cruiser that had taken note of Tyn Akir. Shä'Nyêl was still there. Even as his vessel rocked, shook and gave way to the continuous fire, his only concern was for his lovemate's survival. One of the Gîl Naur vessels docked to send its warriors to battle with the intruders head on. Raelan and his Star took the brunt of the battle, blasting a dazzling array of beams into the Ùl Torog ranks, but yet, for every ship they destroyed, two more took its place, and the very finite numbers of the Gîl Naur was keenly felt with the destruction of each of their ships.

Soon, only the Morninglords themselves remained. Raelan drew the fire of the enemies from the Tyn Bronwe, and Haelom, leaning heavily against a bulkhead, his warriors fallen around him, their frail bodies shattered from the last torpedo impact, received word of his lovemate's escape from Tyn Akir, and the destruction of the last city. He floated over towards the helm consoles, and transfered the remaining power in his ship to its impulse engines, and plotted a course towards the Star. As more and more Ùl Torog dropped out of warp, the two Morninglords unleashed their final surprise, crossing two beams of pure energy, the impact of their ships triggered a lightwave explosion that took out everything within several hundred kilometers of them.

Thus ended the existence of the Gîl Naur as a people.

Shä'Nyêl felt Haelom's passing in her soul, and she wept freely in the solitude of her sunship. When she had arrived at Tyn Akir, one of the Ùl Torog cruisers had seen her, and trailed after her. Two ships of the Gîl Naur joined the pursuit to aid her in battle, with one landing to provide ground cover, which was necessary as it turned out, for they were in the city already. Frantic, she had set up the automated defenses, untested as they were, to aid her people, whilst she finished uploading her memory engrams and lore into the light cores. Something went wrong as she fled the city in her sunship. She only found out after she had jumped to warp, but the defenses had destabilized the moon's core, and it set off a terrible chain reaction...

Now, in the company of the last of the Gîl Naur, they journeyed for the homeworld. She carried the seed of the Morninglord of the Northern Stars, but the child would be raised as a Lost One. It was such, that she was chosen by the Wisdoms and Loremasters collectively to live on in memory of the Gîl Naur. She knew she lost no honour in following their will, but nevertheless, she had felt cheated of everything she had learnt to value and cherish. Though she was now to become like a Lost One, she knew in her heart that she would never be of them, and if she could, she would raise her child to maintain the ability to choose freely, if they would dance the light lances, or abandon all weapons and senses. But they would have the choice.

Yet, when she descended from the sunship, and set foot on the ancestral homelands of her people, she spoke the words of the Lost Ones, and accepted their ways like a convert to a new religion. But her task in the last city of her people was done. She had set aside a portion of herself in the city's light cores, and when a true child of Alata and/or Gîl Naur set foot within its halls, they would know all that they would need to know, and find within, the seeds of life, and the chance to begin anew, the ways of the servants of the Light. No matter how hard they tried, Gúl Mor would ever have an enemy that awaited them. One that knew them for what they were. They wiped out an incarnation of the Gîl Naur, but there was to be another generation that would one day arise to oppose the Dark.

And on that day, the Dark would at last be no more, and the Light shall prevail.

“Forget not, all that we know,” she told her sons and daughters on her deathbed, “forget not...the purpose for which we exist...forget...”