Prologue

263 4 0
                                    

From amidst the black canvas of deep space, there was anything but total darkness that coated the vast emptiness. Clouds of glowing gas ever so stagnant dominated the distances of light years in all of their glorious colors, born of the death of a star that came before them. The veil of magnificance was a testiment to the many shapes and patterns that followed upon a star shredding away the outer layers of its engulfed mantle or the spectular destruction of a few unique stellar bodies ending violently to produce much larger nebula. Even in the beyond, the light given off by the free floating clouds of dust was enough to light the darkened realm all around in the vastness of empty space. The tranquility and harmony of stillness was only disturbed by the presence of a passing spacecraft, sailing through the dusty seas as if it were on a body of liquid. Its jets of fuel shone brighter than the surrounding canvas of stars with its brilliant blue flair, leaving behind a trail of exhaust. That blue was only contrast to the much darker metal that coated the spacecraft in sleek resolve. While slender and smooth on the top, it acted as roofing to cover the body beneath it in the way a hood would cover the head. Much of the said craft was rounded with the edges of the elliptical body pointing forward with a blue viewing port the only feature standing out apart from darkened metal like a cyclops scoping out the universe in front of it, the only other exception being the jets that thrusted its mass through space. But this spacecraft was no empty weight floating amongst the emptiness, for it carried passengers on board.
    Like a living organism, those inside functioned like cells working together to maintain the health of the host in unison, each hosting its own set of jobs. As the lights flickered in front of them, they tapped away with their clawed fingertips as holograms shifted from one image to another. Their reptilian-like skin that reflected the lights became its own show and source of energy with a dominate influence of red as functions and processes ran together like the population on board.
   Only one was considered the pilot, steering the direction of the ship forward across the dark contrasting fabric against the nebulae and into the stars. From behind the chair it was seated, both hands sprawled out to the left and right operated as if they were their own entities, responding to the various holograms in front. They carassed the phantom-like buttons as each phased out of existence and reappeared in another spot on the control panel only to be reintroduced to the pecking, clawed fingertips. But the buttons were not the only sounding source of clicking about the deck, for the mandibles of the pilot clicked and vocalized with each passing minute, often resonating to break the silence of the cabin. Unlike his brethren, he was not adorned in much armor at all which was set aside in a locker, sealed by a heavy metal door. No mask covered his face like his comrades. Instead, the bare skin absored the full brunt light that brunted his eyes and forehead. The eyes themselves darted back and forth at each keypad, though keeping their main attention towards the infinite darkness and starlight. It seemed as if the pilot himself was swatting the air with no apparent cause among the array of glyphs. He was content with their designated motion, so much his mandibles clicked and rattled in the silence of the cabin.
   A thrum came within the ship that urged the pilot to respond with an input of commands. The hovering glyphs responded to a whole new array of various patterns. He was in no way hampered by the forms, for his technological prowess was perfected in his early years as a blooded. Much like his brethren, the pilot was a warrior, forged by the hunt and forever bound it like his ancestors before him. Taking charge of the ship was only, however, a rather smaller task than the real responsibilities he upheld as an Elite amongst his brethren. The warriors all looked to him for guidance in a way they would look towards their clan leaders or the King; the high Elder and the Council of Ancients. But the pilot himself was in no way a clan leader, despite being very close to one. Nevertheless, his leadership was as suave as the ship, careening through the stars and blackness of space. The thrumming came again with another set of buttons pressed.
    Echoes of heavy footsteps arose from behind his chair, closing in to rest beside his right. Still, he carried on preparing the ship to launch a tunnel through space. To his right, a fellow warrior stood monitoring his progress and the universe outside the glass. The silence would continue no longer as the vigilant hunter broke the peace.
    "Where to next, mighty one?" The pilot paused briefly before speaking as his mind was in several places at once.
    "Somewhere familiar," he said assuringly to his comrade. His fingers rubbed together after initiating the warp drive. At first the warrior beside him was confused while looking ahead into the emptiness. With a blast of energy, a projectile shot forth out of the ship's hull, piercing the veil of space. Like an acidic enzyme, the fabric tore a sizeable hole for the ship to pass through—a tunnel to the otherside. The pilot could see through it even before passing through in much the way a window let in sunlight to a home. On the otherside, a world of blue and black testified to the light of its host star. A blinding ghast of white light shone over the spherical mass to the favorable near side. The other half was left in total darkness as its rotation continued on to reveal the hidden side. In equilibrium, did day and night coexist. In harmony, they paired.
    The green land masses were not seen until the ship passed through the tunnel, which closed behind it abruptly. Now the spacecraft was also subject to starlight, sharing places with the planet, which dominating nearly the entire viewport. But it was not the only grand spectacle. Beyond the far side, a natural satellite orbitted the blue-green mass, albeit very separated it was; much of the this so called moon was shattered throughout the mantle, yet somehow retained the scattered remains floating through space trailing behind. It intrigued the pilot many times over, only to leave him wondering what could've possibly happened in his kind's absence. His gut suddenly churned at an uneasy feeling as the ship approached closer to the ever-growing planet. Ages ago, the moon shined with brilliance upon the world like a flawless gem would refract light. But that was only a reminder of better days, for the moon he saw was as if it was withering away from the once greater spirit it shared before. He could only remember the glorious days of the hunt to look upon the suspended mass that lit up the night unmatched by no other source. Those days, like the moon, have long since passed.
    The same silence that kept it vigilance was soon broken again by the hunter, who had not left the pilot's side during the incursion. It was common for fellow warriors to stick together on journies across the cosmos for grand hunts, abd watch over each other on every mission. Though, the mission on this world had yet to begin. The hunter, standing as guardian of the bridge, made no hesitation to break the silence once more.
    "What do you suppose our Elder has plans for here—akin to reconnaisance?" He clicked his mandibles together.
    "Whatever he deems necessary. For now, to scout and survey. There will be no trophies for us here," the pilot said painfully. It was not like of him nor his fellow warriors to adventure and hunt only to return with nothing. It left a bad taste in his mouth to even utter such a phrase. The warrior next to him shared his chagrin, but bit back a stark protest.
    "Humanity has been growing while we were away," continued the pilot, "perhaps it's time we check up on them."
    "Since when was their business our own? We have more important matters to contend to back home," the hunter said glancing over his shoulder at the other warriors in the back, "a bit puzzling why he needs us here when the threat of war is coming."
    The pilot's uneasy feeling grew worse, even as his thoughts planned a counter to the hunter's questioning of the Elder—the king's plan. Still, he retained his vigilance and composure.
    "There are other times and places to ask such questions, Tah'kon. For now, we shall see only where this wind will take us."
    The hunter responded after a pause, and turned away to the warriors that stood behind him, departing the bridge.
    "Then let it be so, Deja Kaan."
    As the fleeting moon began to move out of sight like an injured animal on the run, he lowered the ship into descent. His full view now focused on the planet, which had now held dominion over the viewport. Soon, the ship would enter the upper atmosphere.
    The hunters prepared themselves, activating gear and storing their weapons upon them, ready for the impending hunt onto this world of their memories. Like revisting old, cherrised hunting grounds, they were nurtured and armed to set foot on the world of Remnant once more.

The Mak Toras ChroniclesWhere stories live. Discover now