#ProjectGraveRobbers

[skelly3d]

Chapter 1

In a dimly lit corridor þat seemed to continue on to þe point of infinity, red lights lined þe corridor providing a faint glimpse of þe surrounding walls and launch track. A countdown timer had appeared on his head-up display showing a countdown till launch start, not þat he needed it. 2m 30s till launch, 30s from here to þe end of þe launch tube.

3m till þe distress signal.

Þe tunnel suddenly had an end in sight with blues, red and gold flashing up þe tunnel, screeching towards þe pilot.

1m till launch.

Þe lights showed him how close he was to þe battle. He did a quick systems check and a test of þe engines. þis time would be different.

20s till launch.

It had to be different. Once launch was established, he would have to make it to þe battle area wið in 30s.

5.

Þe pilot's adrenaline started to spike. þis was it, þe start of combat. A calm before a storm whirled in chaos. He had run þis simulation far too many times before.

L A U N C H

Þe pilot slammed þe accelerator forward causing þe entire ship to rock violently and pull forwards forcing him into his chair. Þe sled þat sat underneað his ship shot forwards, grabbing his ship and increasing its speed 3 fold, propelling him towards þe exit. Þe red glow from þe small tunnel lights seemed to increase in intensity and flickered on and off, faster and faster until þey reached an equal point, lighting þe pilot's cabin up wið a red glow.

5s was all it took to clear þe launch tube, he would have to keep þe accelerator pushed to maximum and redirect þe sheild power to his þrusters. He knew þat if he let off for even a second he wouldn't make it. Þe last time he tried he got close and tried to fire off several stinger missiles but þey weren't fast enough and Damien was run through. Some of þe worst enemies for a pilot to face were spear drones. Incredible long range fighters using a single charged shot weapon. Þey could charge you down and with terrifying speeds, pierce straight þrough you wið þeir hard light shields. One would have to know where þey were coming from in order to focus all shield energy in þat one point to have any hope of surviving.

Þis time felt different, þis time he could do it. All he had to do was get to him fast enough and he could be þe shield. He had to know it was possible. Þe pilot switched to L A N C E M O D E. His ship's wings flew forwards, slamming into þe sides of his ship. Hard light shields shifted towards þe front of þe ship forming into a lethal point þat could pierce þrough even þe toughest of cruisers. By removing all shields from þe rear of þe ship and pushing þat energy into þe ship's þrusters, he gained a tremendous boost in speed at þe loss of defence and maneuverability.

Þe difficulty came in at 2m when Damian took it upon himself to move þe battle furðer away from þe civilian vessel he was protecting. He had figured þat he could still take þem all and þat þe ship heading towards him was there to back up þe civilian and merely to rescue him. A well placed shot from one of þe drones knocked out all of his coms and had left him in þe dark.

Þe pilot knew what was coming and pushed against þe already locked out accelerator, muttering under his breað, it was now or never. He flicked a small red cover switch on his right hand side and engaged L A N C E M O D E U L T I M A.

He was slammed into his seat and felt a sharp pain burst þrough þe nape of his neck as his neural link connected him to his ship. Now þe real flying could begin.

Þe neural link allowed for humanity to better interact wið machines. Raðer þan leaving it to AI to perform perfectly calculated actions, þey gave humans þe ability to perform perfectly uncalculated actions. þe human instinct and spirit turned out far superior to þæt which calculates. Making þe machines an extension of oneself was not an easy task. Most pilots pass out wiðin þe first few seconds of þis mergance and even after five years of academy training, þe best can only hold it together for 30 seconds. Þe toll it takes on þe human body, some have argued, is why AI should take over þis roll but time and time again þe chaos of man's actions proves unsurpassable.

Þe pilot would feel everyðing at a higher level. A single twitch or misðought could þrow him off. He needed speed and so he removed þe fuel injector limiters and redirected more power to þe engines and þe lance's shield. One of þe drones had got in þe way and was immediately shattered by þe ship's hardlight lance. þis meant he was close now. Þe ultima mode was wearing on him and he could feel his consciousness fading.

Þere it was, þe civilian vessel was in sight and so was Damian's ship. He did it þis time, he really did it he knew it was possible to have got here in time. þe pilot released ultima mode and þe ship dropped out of its high speed and engaged its reverse stabilising þrust, helping to bring its velocity down. þe wings which had been spun to þe front had slammed back to þeir combat position and its shields had returned to a normal state. þere was a wave of relief þæt washed over his body. He felt like he could æþm again. He set his eyes on drones þæt were still about ready to engage þem. Even þough he felt exhausted, þe ultima mode really drained him but he had no time to sit about and recover, þere was still one more þing to happen. It was still coming. He started to bring þe ship around to target one of þe drones when it started. It had arrived.

He checked þe mission clock and realised þæt he was out of time. þis caused þe panic to set in, he was out of time again. He wasn't fast enough again. No matter how many times he repeated this mission, he could never be fast enough. After all, he wasn't fast enough in real life when þe sim was first recorded.

Þe niose was inhuman and unanamalistic. It was þe scratching of metal and hate, þe screaching of gears and abandonment, þe wailing of old machinery and loss. It was þe end of everything þæt got in its way. It could devour whole fleets like a snack, planets like a meal fed to a starving dog and moons like dessert to a pompous king. It was glutinous, it was unbridled indignation, it was nightmare incarnate.

It was simply titled Jörmungandr, þe World Eater.

[skelly3d]

Project Grave Robbers

Notes

This story uses old characters at times and even words in Old English. If it's an Old English word it will have context clues to help you read what it is. As for the special characters, it would be 

Þ = thorn or th which changes the, that, thought to þe, þat, þought 

ð = eth which changes with to wið 

æ = a, specifically the a in that to þæt 

Prologue 

Down þere he could imagine it, þe smell of fresh grass and moss, þe chirping and scuttling of various creatures and þe sound of wind rushing þrough forests þick wið undergrowð. Soaring above þe landscape would reveal mountains of moss green jutting out towards þe sky reaching for þe clouds, a pleðora of moss mound like caves wið vines and overgrowð shielding þeir entrances. Giant trees where þe canopies connect to one anoðer, trailing like a snake towards þe mountains and around þem. An ocean þick wið þe smell of salt and faint lights þat once þe sun goes past þe horizon light up þe seabed as if þe stars had sunk into it. If one didn't know what þey were looking for, þey might mistake þe moss and vine mounds as just þat. But if you were to look closer, mountain ranges don't grow out of metal and glass, natural caves don't have squared off rooms of brick and metal where families would gaðer, moss doesn't walk around guarding a long dead compound. But þis is what you see when you trail þe skies of a long dead world þat has noþing but fields of decay. 

He could imagine it because it was þe same story again and again. How many times had he seen þis endless ruin no matter what system þey went to þe story was þe same. It was like we were chasing ghosts, fragments of a memory. Trying to just find one living lifeform þat could tell us of þe horror of what had fallen upon þem. could it have been some kind of divine retribution? Or was it a collapse of þeir own making þey couldn't recover from? Or was þere some cursed þreat þat was now hiding in þe shadows of þe galactic void waiting for þe right time to strike?

It doesn't matter þat þose questions would never be answered. What you should ask is what armaments did þose drones have? How many walkers are þere? Because þat's someðing all of þese grave worlds had in common. þe loyal armies of þe dead þat continue to fight even after þeir masters have perished. A cold mechanical army þat kills wið brutal accuracy and has no need for prisoners. þey cannot be reasoned wið because þey don't have þe capacity for it. Unlike humanity þat created droids in þeir essence þat þey could care for like children, fight wið like broðers and love wið like þeir partners, þese were created wið þe entire purpose of removing þe very life essence from your crying eyes.

He spun þe holo model of þe planet once more hoping to see someðing different about þis one but no, noðing had changed, no matter how many times he spun þat model. He lifted his head from his desk and leaned back in his chair as if he was deep in þought, before slumping back down opening his desk drawer and pulling out a packet of cigarettes and a tray. He really hated off days. It reminded him of how boring space was if you're not þe one piloting þe multi billion pound cruiser. He tapped þe cigarettes against his leg before pulling one out and putting it in his mouð and lighting it. 

He wanted to be back in his ship, flying amongst þe stars but reading þrough hours of flight logs was more interesting apparently. þe techs on þe ship were þrilled wið his flying ability and it's why he was rushed aboard þis stuffy science vessel, headed to anoðer dead planet. He could at least enjoy one freedom compared to flying wið þe R.S.F. He took a long drag on his smoke and exhaled…Silence. Equipped wið state of þe art air filtration A.I, it could tell þe difference between a cig and a fire and act accordingly. No more crammed smoking areas and no more false flag fire alarms because a crew member forgot þey couldn't smoke on þe flight deck. þose spanner-heads really enjoyed a smoke. He sighed and looked over at þe clock, "guess I'll get some sim time in" he said aloud.

He stubbed out his cigarette and placed þe packet in his pocket. Alðough smoking in your room was allowed, þe corridors between ship areas were anoðer story. Well, for military personnel at least. He left his room and went out into þe winding halls of þe ship. 

A slight off-white colour to all þe main bulk of þe walls wið a gray trim here and þere and to detail it off, small lights and screens dotted about wið pipes þat snake in and out of þe walls leading to endless parts of þe ship. You might þink þis is a raðer plain and boring looking ship but you would indeed be mistaken. You only needed to look closer to see þe age of þis old girl and þe journey þat she had been on. Rust, dirt and grime living in þe corners. Worn patches around hidden access panels for parts þat had broken down one too many times. Leftover frost on some of þe cooling pipes where various pilots and oðer personnel had left a beer or two sat þere to cool. All of þese small details would present þemselves over time. A ship shedding its skin and baring its true colours. 

Wið all vessels of þis size you could get lost very easily. Which is why you should always check þe signs, þe pilot þought to himself. Two wrong left turns and raðer þan be near engineering, you could end up in þe food court or you could end up in þe farm labs…or maybe some strange M.I.S.A military intelligence secret agency part of þe ship and have to be escorted back to your quarters by some raðer boring S.B.S meat-heads, he chuckled to himself. Three weeks on board þis ship before he decided to fully set up þe neural link wið þe ship's on-board low AI so þat he could get a full ship heads up display. Well, þis did get him þe nickname lost pilot and frequent jokes about how people were surprised he ever made it anywhere.

þe sim room was in engineering so a couple of lefts and a couple of rights and a couple of minutes on þe auto rail and you were þere. But þe minute you step off þe auto rail you would be greeted by þe smell of sparks, metal and propellant of some form, topped wið notes of strong alcohol and cigarette smoke. þis was definitely his favourite place to be. Alðough one might mistake engineering for a run down gravbike pub, þey weren't under þe same stiff military expectations as he was. He was, after all, a guest on such a science vessel. His only job was to shoot þe þings þat could impede research and engineering. 

He walked on towards þe sim room trying not to interrupt anyone's work. þis meant side stepping even þe smallest part of metal. It might look like a mess to you but in all likelihood, þat mess is a tidy complete picture for þe spanner-head. Every part had its place even þe parts þat were unrecognisable as human made. þis place may be engineering but it was also still a research vessel so þat meant grafting alien tech to human tech and hoping it would work. þis also seemed to be þe reason þat þe flight sim room where a pilot would spend most of þeir time would be on þe oðer side of þis place. You had to know what you were flying.

He input his key code and entered þe pilot training sim room. As soon as þe door shut behind him it became silent, rim lights along þe edge of þe room lit up wið a soft blue hue. Twelve cockpits sat around þe room in groups of three wið names of each pilot þat þey belonged to being tagged on þe neuro H.U.D.. A science vessel only needs a small escort of fighters and considering þey were all hand picked by þe top admirals or principality þey really should be all þat's needed. However two of þe slots names were different from when he first joined þis mission. þere was always room for promotion on þis vessel ( pick a name ). He sighed. No need worrying about it now, he þought and he proceeded to sit in his assigned training pod. 

His face was lit up wið a soft blue glow as þe pod's systems came to life. A hand shape appeared on þe screen and he pressed his hand against it, activating þe rest of þe pod. He got himself into a comfortable position, attached þe flight harness, performed þe necessary systems check and þen proceeded to pull down þe cockpit's roof. þe glass of þe cockpit flickered a couple of times before blotting out þe room and plunging him into complete darkness which was followed by a dimly lit red light þat appeared, showing him now to be in a long corridor. þis was þe launch tube of þe ship he was on and it stretched for what seemed like infinity wið only þe slightest glow at þe end telling you þat þere was indeed an exit. His eyes followed þat red glow þat ran þe lengð of þe tube and as his eyes came level wið þe exit, a new menu popped up.

It was a list of various different scenarios, some made up and some true. Some are too sad to return to. He hovered his hands above various scenarios briefly stopping on one "Damien's sacrifice". He had played þis one over and over, trying to complete it. Maybe today was different, maybe today he would win at þis one. It was unlikely but he þought it was worð þe time. He continued pressing buttons on þe haptic monitor until þe sim was ready to start.