Episode 1

The huge space station loomed in a silent orbit around the yellow atmosphere desert planet. On the side of the imposing armament was the fierce symbol of the dragon- the insignia of dreaded Reaper Legion, the most feared and reviled force in the known universe.

Inside the main monitoring quadrant a large window

that overlooks the planet is the main focal point of a distinguished warrior. Amidst the hustle and bustle of the station Reaper Leutenii Valen stands in a poised vigil, his eyes fixed on the desert planet below. Standing tall and proud his blue eyes reflect wisdom as well as discipline. His hooded black trench coat like garment, the signature uniform of the Reapers, billows over his stance. His numerous decorations and awards adorn his uniform, paying tribute to his many years as a hard lined soldier.

A young blond female Reaper marches up to Valen and makes a sharp stop at his side. “Leutenii Valen, Anubi Cara- rebel report” she says in an emotionless voice.

Valen’s eyes and his stance do not flinch as he continues to monitor the planet below “What of the rebels” he says in a cool voice.

Still standing at stark attention “Sir, the rebellion leaders have been captured and are being transported via Dracul escort to interrogation dock one”.

Valen turns around and gives the youthful young woman a look of approval “Have the prisoners held at the dock for my arrival”.

Cara looks up at the impressive officer and pauses for a moment “But doesn’t the Chief Interrogation Officer usually meet newly captured prisoners” she stammers.

“Don’t question me Anubi, just carry out that order” Valen says.

Cara does an about face and marches away. Valen stands back and mutters to himself “We don’t need them to die their first day”.

The large convoy of ships makes it final approach towards the Reaper Arms Station, in the back ground the yellow haze of the planet’s atmosphere casts an eerie aura on the orbiting space station. A prison transport is escorted by sleek black ships with forward curving wings resembling those of a bat’s. These are the Dracul Fighter Craft, the Reaper’s primary fighter and attack craft. They are heavily armed and are almost invincible in combat.

Four dirty and tired looking rebels sit in dark dingy cell. The atmosphere the corridor creates is one of bleak despair. The stares of the rebels reflect anxiety, apprehension and terror: for they know what fate awaits them. One of the prisoners, a dirty old man with long curly hair stands to his feet and walks over to the cell bars. This is Tartan one of the leaders of the rebellion of the desert planet. As Tartan looks at the bars he notices they are transparent with inky black blobs culminating in a lava lamp type activity within the bars. Tartan extends his hand toward the bars and touches them.

Immediately his hand starts to be consumed by the inky black blobs emanating from the bars. He screams and pulls his hand back. Steam plumes from his stricken limb as large red welts start to form on his hand.

“Acid leeches.” the old man says in a croaky voice.

Another of the rebels, Dion sits back coolly. His eyes reflect a man who has seen many battles and an arrogant callousness that seems to pervade his cold stare. “Acid leeches, gee ya think?”

“Damn Reapers! First they steal our land, now they deny us our very right make our own choices on how to live. Blasted barbarians, all of them” Tartan shouts.

A sly smile crosses Dion’s face “Calm down old man”.

“Calm down, well excuse me Dion for being a little anxious as we are about be interrogated and executed at the hands of a bunch of bloodthirsty savages” Tartan snaps back.

Dion gets up and slowly walks over to Tartan and puts his hands on his shoulders “You need to learn how to relax”.

Tarl another rebel prisoner sits back in the shadows “You seem pretty damn sure of yourself Dion” he stands up and walks into the light “What gives”?

Dion looks back at Tarl and then pulls out a small vile of crystals, “I trust all of you know what these are”.

The other prisoners attention become transfixed on the vile. Is that what I think it is” says Tarl.

With a sigh of confidence “Pure Phoenix crystals, enough power here to blow ten space stations straight to hell” Dion says.

“Where in fuck did you get a hold of that much power” says Tarl.

With an arrogant smile “Not important” says Dion.

“We have to use them now” Tartan says excitedly.

“With what igniting source? Besides I have a much better plan, its about time I gave my old friend Czerell the payback he deserves” Dion says with a sadistic twinkle in his eye.

The convoy nears its entry vector. Inside one of the Dracul Fighters sits young Reaper Anubi Derelic. He is an exuberant young black man full of energy. He sits back coolly his flight/space suit glows with neon blue cords that run in every direction. The brilliant consoles of his fighter blink and light up in a colorful dance. Voices start to come over his communication systems- these are the docking officials .

“Prison convoy 6v8 you are in final docking approach. D.F. 2 acknowledge” the cold voices over the communication sound emotionless, almost machine like.

Derelic smiles and responds “D.F. 2 Convoy 6v8 acknowledge”.

The docking officials respond “You will take flanking position ahead of convoy”.

Suddenly an amusing thought crosses the young Reaper’s mind as he responds to Dock Command “D.F. 2 acknowledge flanking convoy, request D.F. 6 aide flank”, now a smile forms from ear to ear.

Inside Dracul Fighter 6 is the source of Derelic’s amusement, his long time friend Cale, he is of rank Equinar in the Reaper Legion. It is one lower rank than Derelic but the two young men are roughly the same age. Cale is of the type that would be the life of any party, outgoing, friendly and courteous. He has been listening to Derelic’s transmission with Dock Command and he to presents a wide smile, wondering what hijinks his friend has in store for him.

Dock Officials come over Cale’s communication systems “Request confirmed, D.F. 6 acknowledge flank aide to D.F. 2.”

Cale looks out his cockpit and notices Derelic laughing at him from his fighter. Cale still smiling “Cheeky little bastard”.

Cale responds to Dock Command “D.F. 6 flank aide of convoy 6v8 to D.F. 2 acknowledge”. Cale switches his communication frequencies “You just don’t give up do you Der!”

Derelic muffles a chuckle “You know me, now let’s see if you can back your smart ass up!”

Cale fiddles around with his consoles as he senses a bet coming on “Your on. Flanking speed position now”.

Both fighters break their position from the convoy and zoom ahead in a high speed race. Cale tries to cut off Derelic but he simply goes underneath him and pulls ahead. The fighters weave around one another in an impressive display of aerodynamic acrobatics in space. The thrill of the race has both young men laughing with excitement. But despite their intense effort to beat each other they arrive simultaneously at a tie.

Cale trying to catch his breath from laughing so hard “You think Dock Command got a glimpse of that?

“Hell no, we were to fast for em” says Derelic.

Dock Command comes over the communication consoles “Flanking craft, you are in position to dock, lead convoy in”.

Both Derelic and Cale respond simultaneously “Acknowledge dock”.

The convoy glides into a huge port on the side of the Arms Station. Cale and Derelic lead the prison transport into the dock. The fighters land side by side with the transport close behind. A regiment of armed Reaper guards in full hooded cybernetic armor stand and await the emergence of the prisoners. Derelic pops his cockpit and jumps down from his fighter and goes to meet Cale.

He walks up behind Cale as he emerges from his fighter. He gives an affectionate slap on his friend’s shoulder “Told ya you couldn’t beat me”.

Cale looks at the taller black man with a wry smile “Bullshit I won.”

Derelic shouts “Hey medic, we got a serious case of space psyc here”!

Suddenly a higher ranking Reaper officer approaches the two. They immediately come to the position of attention, but with very noticeable smirks on their faces. The officer is a Reaper Genesis, a very high rank in the Reaper Legion.

Stone faced and with a rigid cold voice he says “How many times must I get reprimanded by the Dominion for the childish bullshit you two pull”!

The two can hardly suppress their laughter and do not answer.

This seems to further anger the Genesis “Well answer me damnit, This is not a laughing matter, when flanking in a convoy you do not hit carnal speed and employ attack maneuvers, do I make myself clear”!

The two straighten up and for a second manage to form a serious expression.

Derelic in a calm fashion “Yes sir”.

The Genesis marches off in a huff. No sooner as he is out of sight do the duo collapse in laughter.

Leutenii Valen walks into the docking port accompanied by his own battalion of guards. He marches up to the rear hatch of the transport where the prisoners will emerge.

In a stern and commanding voice he says “Bring them out”.

Slowly the hatch opens and a pair of Reaper guardsmen escort the disheveled and weary rebels out to the dock platform. Dion is marched out with his head hanging facing the ground. A twinge of hate and malice pervade from Dion’s visage. He rather not look his captor’s in the face. The rebels are placed right in front of Valen. He looks them up in down without any emotion. He gets to Dion and notices his head hanging. Knowing that most officers in his position would severely beat any prisoner who refused to look them in the eye.

But he just looked at Dion with discipline and a hint of compassion in his eyes. “Lock them in incarceration tier four” Valen says.

Suddenly a voice booms out from across the hangar “Not so fast”!

A tall imposing man of darker complexion comes marching into the port. Escorted by a band of Reaper guardsmen this is Reaper Leutenii Czerell, Chief Interrogation and Combat Officer. He has green piercing eyes and a muscular build that would make even the most hard lined of soldiers feel intimidated. His sleek battle garb boasts just as many decorations and awards as Valen, he is every bit the fierce warrior that the Reapers have come to symbolize throughout the known universe. He marches his way up to Valen and the rebel prisoners.

With a hint of arrogance and superiority he says “These prisoners are under my jurisdiction! They are to be brought to formal interrogation now”.

He notices Dion staring at the ground and violently grabs him by the hair. Dion is jerked upwards and lets out a small yelp of pain.

Czerell in a calm yet sadistic voice says “Didn’t anybody ever tell you its rude not to look your captors in the eye”.

Czerell electrically shocks Dion with his gauntlet hand exoframe. Dion is almost knocked backwards but resists the urge to fall.

Valen feels compelled to intervene “Leutenii Czerell, I was under the impression these prisoners were not to be interrogated until they had been processed”. Czerell looks up at the older soldier and stares at him at perfect eye level. Again with a slight arrogance in his voice “Leutenii Valen, under the Reaper Legion code, standard seal, all newly captured prisoners of war by rebellion or otherwise are in sole jurisdiction of the Chief Interrogation Officer; and any hereby command. That Chief Interrogation Officer is me, and these prisoners are under my command until such time as I release them to your custody...is that understood. Take these maggots to tier six to await full interrogation”.

The guardsmen swiftly drag the rebels out of sight.

Czerell walks right up to Valen “You know Leutenii, I am of equal rank and have just as much if not more control of this base as you do. I would advise you not get in the way of me doing my job”.

Valen says “I wouldn’t dream of it Czerell, you have the best track record for torturing and killing prisoners and not getting a damn thing out them”.

A sneer rises in Czerell’s lips “You had better watch yourself Valen, an old man like you might one day wake up and find himself stripped of his importance.”

At that he storms out of the hangar.