En Nomine Imperialis
Posted: 2005-05-08 04:20am
Because the crowd demand it, here is the first installment of the ST V. SW V. 40K fic I promised. Sorry bout any grammar mistakes (I am a physics major, treat english like its my second language 
) and am very sorry for Scotty's accent (I'll do better when its not so late).
And pray to the God Emperor that my formatting is right.
Without further adu, part I
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
En Nomine Emperialis
A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, the Empire
reels over the loss of its most faithful servant.
On the gas giant of Bespin, Lord Vader made the
fateful decision that could send a galaxy into
total war. Abandoning his former master he casts
his lot with the downtrodden Rebellion, and his
son, Luke Skywalker. Taking a portion of the
Imperial forces with him, Vader rules over the
Rebellion and prepares to set himself
on the throne as the new Emperor.
Chapter 1
Warships burned as they drifted into low orbit around the once verdant world of Endor, now pock mocked with gaping plains of lava and cratered with the impact of fallen starships. The Death Star, a glaring eye of durasteel formed from a skeleton of supports listed under the bombardment of the combined Rebel fleet.
From his command post on the mighty Executor Vader watched with a mixture of regret and pride. He regretted that he would have to destroy what was one of the most powerful battle stations ever created. His infiltrators had failed, although he was secretly relieved that Solo and his commandos had managed to escape despite the terrible price they paid. The medical droids told him that Solo would never walk again without the assistance of the cybernetics now being implanted in his lower back. However, none of this would matter unless the Death Star could be destroyed and the Emperor cast down from his throne on Coruscant.
Vader surveyed his fleet again, Star Destroyers poring fire into the shielded sphere ahead of them, the Mon Calamari’s quaintly designed ships lobbing torpedoes and servicing the fighters that served as the spearhead of the attack. Hundreds of enemy Star Destroyers burned because of this initial thrust. The enemy commanders simply were not aware that such a tactic could ever be viable, and would never prepare, but deep inside Vader, were the child that was Anakin Skywalker resided, the memory of his initial encounters with spaceflight still burned bright. Coming out of hyperspace at ludicrously close ranges, thousands of fighters maneuvered at near light speeds to fire their specially modified torpedoes at the enemy. A competent commander would expect the torpedoes to be fired at the bridge, the engines or the reactor, and every competent commander was surprised when salvo after salvo has launched at the docking bay. Only when the shield disruptors of the oversized torpedoes kicked in and the deadly missiles flew into the open superstructure of the ship did the captains realize their error. Damage control was a nightmare, and the enemy fleet had exited hyperspace at extreme range, praying on vulnerable ships whose shields had collapsed.
Now the proud Imperial fleet that had guarded the station was little more than scrap, and the Rebel fleet completed its kill. As the shield collapsed and the reactor core went critical a loud cheer went up throughout the Rebel fleet. The Death Star exploded violently, its hypermatter core spewing forth energy and super dense matter. The cheers died down as the Rebels saw the aftermath. Space itself seemed twisted and bent. Endor slowly was pulled toward the violent anomaly and disappeared from view with the faintest flash. In their moment of victory, something terrible was unleashed upon the galaxy.
Chapter 2
“In the grim darkness of the future there is not peace among the stars, only an eternity of carnage and slaughter and the laughter of thirsting gods.”
In the dark, musky hallways of holy Terra shadows stirred. The sound of steel boots clanked against the hard floors of pristine marble. Here, in the very depths of the Imperial Palace, the splendor of the Emperor still remained. Tapestries that had hung for millennia lined the walls, and busts of the Primarchs, the greatest heroes (and villains) of humanity lined the walls. Sgt. Westensen clomped along nervously, his steel toed boots ringing slightly too loud for his comfort. Behind him was a cacophony of noise as 20 of the Imperial Guards most loyal Storm troopers followed. Every shadow loomed slightly too ominously and the Lascannons and Heavy Bolters mounted in automated turrets tracked him slightly too carefully. Westensen cursed his luck and cursed the High Lords for sending him down here to a place that human eyes hadn’t touched in centuries and then, thinking that the turrets above him had taken slightly too close of aim to his head offered a prayer for forgiveness.
Westensen looked behind him, at his men, who were shaken as well. While he was only a Sergeant, and a poor one at that, these were stone cold killers of the best schools of war that Terra had. This simple observation made the Sergeant all the more anxious to deliver his message and get out of their. He didn’t even know who he was supposed to deliver the message to, simply to follow the Servo-skull and deliver it. This added yet another weight upon his burdened nerves.
Finally, his trepidation got the better of him as the skull stopped in the middle of an eight way intersection. Sitting down, he lit up a cigar and told his men to take a short break as well. He drew in a single, long drag of thick musky smoke and smiled to himself.
His men simply stared at the man that had been given command over them only an hour before. The smile was the toothy grin of a man who had gone mad, or at least believed he did. In a unison motion brought about more by simple surprise than the decades of training the Stormtroopers glimpsed what he was smiling about. One of the statues that had been sitting innocuously in the recesses of the room had walked into the open, a massive bulk of Tactical Dreadnaught armour and superhuman warrior. An assault cannon was pointed at the Sergeant and a flamer was primed for use on the survivors. Flowing cloaks and heraldry covered every inch of the armour that was too ornamented for any man to think was combat ready and yet everyone knew had survived war on a scale not seen for a hundred centuries. A stylized skull stared at them with blank sockets. In a voice too deep, too powerful to be human, the warrior uttered a single phrase with the nonchalant whimsy of a demigod.
“Hello Sgt. Westensen, I believe you have a package for us?” he said as he lowered his weapons.
Half of the Stormtroopers fainted, the other half simply pissed themselves and Sgt. Westensen sat there smiling and puffing on his cigar. In a tone that surprised even himself Westensen stood up, saluted and replied “Yes I do sir!”
The skull mask stifled most of the chuckling.
Chapter 3
On the bridge of the Starship Enterprise James Tiberius Kirk fumed. It had been only three months since Earth had been destroyed. As he watched from the bridge of his ship the planet had simply dissolved in a faint flash of light. He had been running behind with some unknown engine problems, the hour delay they had caused had probably saved his life. More surprisingly, the planet had been evacuated. Massive seismic events had hit the oceans and given warning to the gravitonic instabilities. 85% of the population had managed to escape in the days after the first events. Sometimes Kirk felt like someone was watching over him, but today he simply too angry to consider this fact. Today was his last day as captain, and tomorrow was his first day as Admiral Kirk.
His replacement was some rebellious young gun, a Captain Jordan K. Janeway. Janeway was a braggart of a man who liked to talk about how he had fought every alien species in the Alpha Quadrant and won, and made more than a couple of enemy warships turn tail and run back to the Delta Quadrant. Kirk liked the man already, but whether he liked him or not, he was losing his ship and his crew.
Why had they even gone through with the field promotion? They needed as many captains as they could get, not some old fogies to sit around and dictate from their armchairs. As he turned to leave the bridge Spock turned to leave with him.
“You can stay at your post; I think I can find my way around my own ship!” Kirk muttered bitterly.
“With all due respect, captain, my post will always be by your side.”
This emotional outburst from his half-Vulcan first mate nearly brought tears to his eyes. “Do as will then if your not going to follow my order!”
As they walked down to transporter room Kirk thought of all the things he had done on his five-year mission. He had discovered new life, and new civilization, and had killed many of them. He had spread the ideals of the Federation, and had kept himself and his crew alive while doing so. But he had left no great mark, his nemesis had gone undefeated, he had no great military victories to call his own. In 200 years, the name James Tiberius Kirk would mean as much to the students of Starfleet Academy as the name Nimtz meant to him.
“Spock, in a thousand years, do you think anyone will remember us?” mused Kirk.
“No, I do not captain.”
“Doesn’t this frighten you?”
“Logically I see no reason why it should. Billions of beings have lived before us, but only a select few are remembered for more than a few years after their demise, even in an age of instant information retrieval.”
“Sometimes you can be a little too cold, have I ever told you that?” Kirk retorted.
“I do” came the reply.
“Great, just what I need on my last day as Captain, a Vulcan with a sense of humor!”
Entering the transporter room they turn to say their final good-byes. Kirk had ordered that no big send-off be given. Only himself, Spock, Bones and Scotty were there. The foursome had cut a swath across the quadrant, and now it would be split in two.
“Ai, I’m sorry to see you go like this Cap’n! Rememmer the Enterprise always Cap’n, and rememmer if you ever needs to get anywhere she’s the trustiest ship we got.”
“Thank you Scotty, you will be missed. And what about you Bones, no pithy speech as well”
“For god’s sake Jim, I’m a Doctor not an Orator!”
“One beaming up Cap’n, its Janeway!”
“What the hell is that rascal doing?”
Captain Janeway slowly faded into view; he was a young man, nearly half the age of anyone else in the room and exuded confidence. “Sorry old man, just got a report that the Romulans are on the move! We have to get to the frontlines! They may think we got soft just because we lost Earth, but their gonna get a hell of a lot more than they bargained for!”
Kirk turned without missing a beat Kirk turned and headed back towards the bridge. “Sure they are gonna get a hell of a lot more Sonny, because James T. Kirk is coming in the Enterprise!”
) and am very sorry for Scotty's accent (I'll do better when its not so late).And pray to the God Emperor that my formatting is right.
Without further adu, part I
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
En Nomine Emperialis
A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, the Empire
reels over the loss of its most faithful servant.
On the gas giant of Bespin, Lord Vader made the
fateful decision that could send a galaxy into
total war. Abandoning his former master he casts
his lot with the downtrodden Rebellion, and his
son, Luke Skywalker. Taking a portion of the
Imperial forces with him, Vader rules over the
Rebellion and prepares to set himself
on the throne as the new Emperor.
Chapter 1
Warships burned as they drifted into low orbit around the once verdant world of Endor, now pock mocked with gaping plains of lava and cratered with the impact of fallen starships. The Death Star, a glaring eye of durasteel formed from a skeleton of supports listed under the bombardment of the combined Rebel fleet.
From his command post on the mighty Executor Vader watched with a mixture of regret and pride. He regretted that he would have to destroy what was one of the most powerful battle stations ever created. His infiltrators had failed, although he was secretly relieved that Solo and his commandos had managed to escape despite the terrible price they paid. The medical droids told him that Solo would never walk again without the assistance of the cybernetics now being implanted in his lower back. However, none of this would matter unless the Death Star could be destroyed and the Emperor cast down from his throne on Coruscant.
Vader surveyed his fleet again, Star Destroyers poring fire into the shielded sphere ahead of them, the Mon Calamari’s quaintly designed ships lobbing torpedoes and servicing the fighters that served as the spearhead of the attack. Hundreds of enemy Star Destroyers burned because of this initial thrust. The enemy commanders simply were not aware that such a tactic could ever be viable, and would never prepare, but deep inside Vader, were the child that was Anakin Skywalker resided, the memory of his initial encounters with spaceflight still burned bright. Coming out of hyperspace at ludicrously close ranges, thousands of fighters maneuvered at near light speeds to fire their specially modified torpedoes at the enemy. A competent commander would expect the torpedoes to be fired at the bridge, the engines or the reactor, and every competent commander was surprised when salvo after salvo has launched at the docking bay. Only when the shield disruptors of the oversized torpedoes kicked in and the deadly missiles flew into the open superstructure of the ship did the captains realize their error. Damage control was a nightmare, and the enemy fleet had exited hyperspace at extreme range, praying on vulnerable ships whose shields had collapsed.
Now the proud Imperial fleet that had guarded the station was little more than scrap, and the Rebel fleet completed its kill. As the shield collapsed and the reactor core went critical a loud cheer went up throughout the Rebel fleet. The Death Star exploded violently, its hypermatter core spewing forth energy and super dense matter. The cheers died down as the Rebels saw the aftermath. Space itself seemed twisted and bent. Endor slowly was pulled toward the violent anomaly and disappeared from view with the faintest flash. In their moment of victory, something terrible was unleashed upon the galaxy.
Chapter 2
“In the grim darkness of the future there is not peace among the stars, only an eternity of carnage and slaughter and the laughter of thirsting gods.”
In the dark, musky hallways of holy Terra shadows stirred. The sound of steel boots clanked against the hard floors of pristine marble. Here, in the very depths of the Imperial Palace, the splendor of the Emperor still remained. Tapestries that had hung for millennia lined the walls, and busts of the Primarchs, the greatest heroes (and villains) of humanity lined the walls. Sgt. Westensen clomped along nervously, his steel toed boots ringing slightly too loud for his comfort. Behind him was a cacophony of noise as 20 of the Imperial Guards most loyal Storm troopers followed. Every shadow loomed slightly too ominously and the Lascannons and Heavy Bolters mounted in automated turrets tracked him slightly too carefully. Westensen cursed his luck and cursed the High Lords for sending him down here to a place that human eyes hadn’t touched in centuries and then, thinking that the turrets above him had taken slightly too close of aim to his head offered a prayer for forgiveness.
Westensen looked behind him, at his men, who were shaken as well. While he was only a Sergeant, and a poor one at that, these were stone cold killers of the best schools of war that Terra had. This simple observation made the Sergeant all the more anxious to deliver his message and get out of their. He didn’t even know who he was supposed to deliver the message to, simply to follow the Servo-skull and deliver it. This added yet another weight upon his burdened nerves.
Finally, his trepidation got the better of him as the skull stopped in the middle of an eight way intersection. Sitting down, he lit up a cigar and told his men to take a short break as well. He drew in a single, long drag of thick musky smoke and smiled to himself.
His men simply stared at the man that had been given command over them only an hour before. The smile was the toothy grin of a man who had gone mad, or at least believed he did. In a unison motion brought about more by simple surprise than the decades of training the Stormtroopers glimpsed what he was smiling about. One of the statues that had been sitting innocuously in the recesses of the room had walked into the open, a massive bulk of Tactical Dreadnaught armour and superhuman warrior. An assault cannon was pointed at the Sergeant and a flamer was primed for use on the survivors. Flowing cloaks and heraldry covered every inch of the armour that was too ornamented for any man to think was combat ready and yet everyone knew had survived war on a scale not seen for a hundred centuries. A stylized skull stared at them with blank sockets. In a voice too deep, too powerful to be human, the warrior uttered a single phrase with the nonchalant whimsy of a demigod.
“Hello Sgt. Westensen, I believe you have a package for us?” he said as he lowered his weapons.
Half of the Stormtroopers fainted, the other half simply pissed themselves and Sgt. Westensen sat there smiling and puffing on his cigar. In a tone that surprised even himself Westensen stood up, saluted and replied “Yes I do sir!”
The skull mask stifled most of the chuckling.
Chapter 3
On the bridge of the Starship Enterprise James Tiberius Kirk fumed. It had been only three months since Earth had been destroyed. As he watched from the bridge of his ship the planet had simply dissolved in a faint flash of light. He had been running behind with some unknown engine problems, the hour delay they had caused had probably saved his life. More surprisingly, the planet had been evacuated. Massive seismic events had hit the oceans and given warning to the gravitonic instabilities. 85% of the population had managed to escape in the days after the first events. Sometimes Kirk felt like someone was watching over him, but today he simply too angry to consider this fact. Today was his last day as captain, and tomorrow was his first day as Admiral Kirk.
His replacement was some rebellious young gun, a Captain Jordan K. Janeway. Janeway was a braggart of a man who liked to talk about how he had fought every alien species in the Alpha Quadrant and won, and made more than a couple of enemy warships turn tail and run back to the Delta Quadrant. Kirk liked the man already, but whether he liked him or not, he was losing his ship and his crew.
Why had they even gone through with the field promotion? They needed as many captains as they could get, not some old fogies to sit around and dictate from their armchairs. As he turned to leave the bridge Spock turned to leave with him.
“You can stay at your post; I think I can find my way around my own ship!” Kirk muttered bitterly.
“With all due respect, captain, my post will always be by your side.”
This emotional outburst from his half-Vulcan first mate nearly brought tears to his eyes. “Do as will then if your not going to follow my order!”
As they walked down to transporter room Kirk thought of all the things he had done on his five-year mission. He had discovered new life, and new civilization, and had killed many of them. He had spread the ideals of the Federation, and had kept himself and his crew alive while doing so. But he had left no great mark, his nemesis had gone undefeated, he had no great military victories to call his own. In 200 years, the name James Tiberius Kirk would mean as much to the students of Starfleet Academy as the name Nimtz meant to him.
“Spock, in a thousand years, do you think anyone will remember us?” mused Kirk.
“No, I do not captain.”
“Doesn’t this frighten you?”
“Logically I see no reason why it should. Billions of beings have lived before us, but only a select few are remembered for more than a few years after their demise, even in an age of instant information retrieval.”
“Sometimes you can be a little too cold, have I ever told you that?” Kirk retorted.
“I do” came the reply.
“Great, just what I need on my last day as Captain, a Vulcan with a sense of humor!”
Entering the transporter room they turn to say their final good-byes. Kirk had ordered that no big send-off be given. Only himself, Spock, Bones and Scotty were there. The foursome had cut a swath across the quadrant, and now it would be split in two.
“Ai, I’m sorry to see you go like this Cap’n! Rememmer the Enterprise always Cap’n, and rememmer if you ever needs to get anywhere she’s the trustiest ship we got.”
“Thank you Scotty, you will be missed. And what about you Bones, no pithy speech as well”
“For god’s sake Jim, I’m a Doctor not an Orator!”
“One beaming up Cap’n, its Janeway!”
“What the hell is that rascal doing?”
Captain Janeway slowly faded into view; he was a young man, nearly half the age of anyone else in the room and exuded confidence. “Sorry old man, just got a report that the Romulans are on the move! We have to get to the frontlines! They may think we got soft just because we lost Earth, but their gonna get a hell of a lot more than they bargained for!”
Kirk turned without missing a beat Kirk turned and headed back towards the bridge. “Sure they are gonna get a hell of a lot more Sonny, because James T. Kirk is coming in the Enterprise!”
