Chapter 2 - Rangers to the Rescue

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|| Aquila Hyperion Galaxy, Planet Xybria


The outskirts of Xybrian civilization were a quiet place.

Isolated from the lustrous metropolis Illumise due to geological inconveniences, the populace around and atop the Yepamu Soro mountain range had instead resorted to the establishment of a self-preserving network of mountain towns.

One such village existed in the middle of Mupata valley: Guta. Bolstered by farmer families that had rooted themselves to the town since its conception, generations-worth of farming experience had created a skilled and reliable workforce. Because of this, Guta had been crowned an agricultural paradise, the prosperous, year-long harvest seasons serving as the Shanda network's most consistent source of income and food dispensation.

It was a day like any other. Farmers tended to crops while artisans converted the harvest into food, clothing and furniture. Children herded young-ling animals with the assistance of canine companions. Meanwhile the town's elders, which served the dual role of supervising scholar and technician, converted any material leftovers into a special powder designed to revitalize the energy nodes that fueled Guta's households.

And on a day like any other, they came.

Cloaking systems disengaged to reveal alien spacecraft. Prismatic particles crackled and popped as the fleet's presence dominated the sky, casting a foreboding shadow above the village. Long, crimson barrels mounted on support pillars rotated in downward arcs, their tips glowing with energy.

An innocent countryman's scream was drowned out by the deafening crescendo of crimson beams. Extended bursts of concentrated plasma shot out in bright streaks, carving blazing trails across Guta. Wood was reduced to splinters, straw to ash and stone to dust.

Secondary craft — a wider, boxy variant lacking in heavy weaponry — hovered closer to the ground. Spear-shaped landing gear snapped open like a predator's maw and bit into Gutan soil as rear entrances creaked open and unloaded the passengers: A race of chitinous, pitch-black humanoids equipped with orange carapace armor, cross-shaped helmets and pincer blades.

'Silencers!' roared a terrible warlord.

The disjointed mass of creatures bunched and turned to face their leader. A man of terrifying stature, he was a warrior clad in crimson silk, gunmetal armor and a bull-horned helmet. Ghastly war paint curled underneath his slanted eyes, forming a pair of ashen claw marks that did little to mask the hardened features of his bearded visage.

'Destroy it all!' he cried out. His lips twisted into a sinister grin at the sight of the Silencers stabbing the air.

The swarm promptly scattered in groups of threes and fives and flooded Guta's narrow streets. They swung their pincer blades gleefully as they ransacked property and harassed innocent bystanders. Though silent in their rampage, the glint in the Silencers' bead-shaped eyes displayed perfectly the pleasure they derived from inflicting pain.

The warlord watched the chaos unfold before him. 'Finally,' he breathed, 'our thousandth planet. Our thousandth trophy! The master will be most pleased.'

'You're too dramatic, Traitor King of Vaxia.'

The man turned to meet his accomplice. 'Silence, Cain! Don't you dare speak that title ever again,' he warned with a curved talon.

Magnificently accoutered in sapphire body armor and topped by a platinum shawl that glimmered with starlight, Cain was a tall and lean young man. His braided hair, white as winter snow, was held back by a four-pointed corona, while his high cheekbones were accentuated by a jaw-piece the color of obsidian.

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