My apologies for the wait, I must've re-written this chapter a dozen times. And, no, that's no exaggeration.

Hope it was worth the wait.

A few hundred kilometres from a distant planetoid, a large fleet comprised of one hundred and fifty battleships seemed to suddenly materialize into the sector. Positioned in a loosely spaced crescent formation, a blue glow emitted from the four engines in the stern sections of the sleek vessels. The light cast from a nearby star reflected off the fleet's dark grey coloured hull as they quickly accelerated toward their target.

The ships had slight curves from the stern to the bow, with a narrow streamlined finish in the front. Raised platforms on both the dorsal and ventral sections of the craft accommodated the majority of the vessel's armament. Every ship's ordnance included eighty quad extirpator turrets, forty anti-starfighter batteries, and eight plasma cannons, giving each ship enough fire power to eradicate several cities alone. Its impressive armament, coupled with its high manoeuvrability and fast speeds made each battleship extremely formidable.

The lead ship in the fleet accelerated to put some more distance between it and the others. Its engines flared a darker blue as they absorbed more energy from the reactor. As the lead vessel's speed increased, so too did the activity inside the battleship.

Bipedal warriors fully encased in black armour increased their pace to light jogs as they prepared for the coming battle. High powered rifles were either attached to their backs or held at the ready, as their wielders moved toward the closest carrier bay. One such warrior let his x-shaped pupils observe his brethren's movements. His armoured three-toed feet didn't even make a sound against the metal interior while he headed toward the command centre of the fleet's flagship, The Relentless.

It took only a few minutes for the soldier to reach a heavy blast door located at the centre of the battleship. Two vigilant guards stood to either side of the entrance, studying his every move as he keyed in his credentials and gained access. As the warrior stepped inside, he took note of the familiar layout of the command centre. Having entered from the far left side, the first sight to greet the newcomer was a short staircase leading to a lower crew deck that housed the vessel's navigation, communication, and sensor stations. On the far right was another small pit dedicated entirely to the ship's various weapon systems. Each one of the many consoles and display screen was linked to a series of weapons on a specific side. Such a division allowed for an efficient execution of the commander's orders.

Tearing his gaze away from the command crew, the warrior moved with purpose toward the centre of the bridge to speak with the vessel's commander. In such a position was a raised platform. Terminals and various screens scrolled with data, giving a readout of ship systems. The positioning of the command centre meant that there were no view ports to gaze out of to witness the area outside the ship. To compensate for this, engineers had installed wall mounted panels that displayed video feed from the vessel's external cameras.

Standing in the centre of this platform was the Primary Officer. The warrior took a deep breath through his armour's built-in respirator before continuing up the platform's ramp. Three more of the fully armed guards stood on either side. While every warrior in the fleet carried an R-7 assault rifle with them at all times, the guards on the platform were also equipped with plasma blades. An outer layer of electromagnetic energy was used to shape the plasma layer, allowing for a slightly curved design that ensured an unpredictable angle of attack. Only the commanders and elite warriors were permitted to wield such weapons.

Those blades activated at the warriors approach, with the first pair of guards crossing their weapons together, dissuading any further progress towards the ship's commander. Despite the loud noise associated with the plasma blade's activation, the Primary Officer didn't even bother to turn around. The flagship commander's attention was, instead, focused on the centre wall panel. It showed the visual feed from the ship's forward receptors. A swirling mass of cloud was the only thing that could be seen of the surface with the naked eye.

"Analysis," The Primary Officer's booming voice instantly garbed the attention of everyone on the bridge.

"Scans detect no orbital defence network my Lord," One of the ship's sensor operators reported from the port crewpit, "The visual feed correlates."

"Disappointing," The Primary Officer said, more to himself than anyone else, "It's been a while since the fleet has had a challenge. Signal the rest of our ships to encompass the entire planet, the invasion begins in six cycles. Perhaps the populace will offer more resistance then."

"By your command my Lord," The communications officer replied.

"You have information for me Commander Kasaros?" The Primary Officer queried without turning around.

With the ship's commander having acknowledged his presence, the two guards moved aside and let Kasaros pass. "Yes my Lord," The Commander said as he moved within three paces of the ship commander. "The Vanguard squad you sent ahead has made their report. The planet we are heading toward is populated by a group of beings who have, through technological means, devloped flight capability. The terrestrial portion of the planet is unstable, so our assault will have to be from the air."

Kasaros said no more after finishing the memorized report. He shifted his feet as he waited for the other to reply. He wasn't nervous, true warriors were never nervous, but he was cautious. Such a feeling stemmed from the fact that the warrior in front of him was no ordinary Primary Officer. He was Vontor Xaart, the clan overlord of their people and the warlord of their empire. He had helped to lead his brethren from the darkness of tribalism that they had shrouded themselves in for centuries.

Clans no longer had any meaning for them, now they were united under Vontor's banner. Tribal designations used to be the method of identification, a method which had resulted in more than a few conflicts. Now, however, they all recognized themselves by their species, they were the Malign, determined to build an empire and bring their people the stability their society had previously lacked.

"Commander Kasaros," Xaart said as he spun to face the warrior in question, his yellow eyes bearing into the commander's, "I'm delegating command of the flagship to you. Ensure that nothing gets off the planet"

Kasaros hesitated for a split second, "As you wish Vontor."

His hesitation, however, did not go unnoticed by the warlord, "Is there a problem Commander?"

Although the warlord's voice gave off a feeling of curiosity rather than anger, Kasaros knew that Vontor did not like being challenged without good reason. "Not with your plan my Lord," The Commander hurried to assure his leader, "I merely think I would be of better use to you as a guard than as a fleet commander."

"Your role as Vanguard Captain is over now Kasaros. You have a task far more important than guaranteeing my protection."

"Vontor?" Kasaros said in confusion. He was at a loss as to what could be more important than the warlord's survival.

"Learning from me Commander," Xaart clarified, his gaze fixing on the panel displaying the target planet. "In any event, it's far too perilous for both of us to partake in combat, until you feel you are ready to serve as my successor."

In answer, Kasaros thumped his armoured hand against his chest plate and gave a half-bow to acknowledge Vontor's original command.

Without another word, the warlord's armoured form headed out of the command centre. The Vanguard stationed on the platform fell into step beside Xaart without a word. A collection of the Malign's elite, the Vanguard were the Vontor's personal guard, spies, and field commanders. Each of them continuously rotated between these duties, in order to ensure that the Vontor's protectors were continuously battle hardened.

Even now, regardless of the fact that they were aboard a friendly vessel, the cadre of guards were constantly scanning their surroundings. Vontor was a prominent warrior in his own right, but recent events had made him aware that he had to ensure his own protection.

Xaart and his protectors stepped into a lift and, once he uttered the words 'first assault bay,' it traversed through the battleship until it came to a stop in the ventral section of the vessel. The area housed the majority of the ship's drop-ships and fighter craft. The vehicles were spread throughout the enormous bay, either on the deck waiting to be deployed, or stored in various racks lining both the walls and ceiling.

Since a ground assault was impossible for this invasion, the bay was completely lined with fighters. Named the Shirak, after a fearsome avian predator Malign warriors had encountered on a conquered world, the fighters were even deadlier than their namesake. Only about four metres in length, the body of the craft was narrow and prism-like in design, featuring a cockpit directly in the front. A large pair of wings branched off at the midpoint between the engines and cockpit.

At first glance the ship elicited an appearance of being slow and unwieldy, due to the large stubby wings, but, on closer inspection, it was easy to see that two more pairs of collapsible wings had been fitted inside the top and bottom of the primary wings. This gave the ship a total of six wings, each one fitted with dual extirpator cannons.

While far smaller in scale than their interstellar equipped counterparts, the fighter's extirpator arsenal still fired the same ammunition, plasma capsules. The high velocity from the firing sequence alone was enough to rip through most armour plating, but the added dispersal of plasma ensured the annihilation of any defence.

Moving through the bay, Vontor and his procession walked toward a group of pilots who were assembled around their personal craft. Having discarded the traditional helmets for the more vacuum friendly ones, their eyes were now hidden behind a small visor panel; though it was obvious from their stances that they were watching the approaching group.

The soldiers quickly silenced themselves at the warlord's approach, instantly straightening their postures before they simultaneously made a half bow to their leader. Xaart looked at the others for a few seconds before shouting in a voice that echoed across the bay, "Soldiers of the Imperium! We deploy to engage another species in combat, to add another planet to our territory. The time has come to show why the Malign are destined to rule!"

Ear shattering roars erupted from the pilots at Vontor's last words, reverberating throughout the chasm as they showed their approval. Further cheers were subsided by a ship-wide announcement from Commander Kasaros. "This is the Primary Officer, prepare for combat. Warriors to your designated craft, the invasion begins in one cycle."

The group in front of Vontor gave another half-bow before moving off to pilot their own fighters. The clan overlord watched them go, a smile, hidden by his helmet, grazed the veteran's expression at the thought of how the enemy would react when thousands of nimble aircraft began raining down on their world. Turning his gaze away from the others, the warlord resumed his march toward his own personal fighter. It was the same as all the other Shirak fighters in the bay, save for the fact that it was positioned directly in the front, with six other craft nearby.

Xaart quickly boarded his Shirak, and ran through a quick systems check. Even though the interior of the craft was fairly dark, Vontor had no trouble in seeing what he was doing. All of the Malign had evolved to adapt to a homeworld which was continuously shrouded in darkness for half of its rotation. Their species had evolved to the point where their eyes could see far into the infrared spectrum, enabling sight where others only saw darkness.

Half a cycle later, the flagship's ventral carrier bay opened and fifty fighters plummeted toward the planet below. Engines flared to life and the Shirak squadrons attained speeds akin to a colliding asteroid as they repositioned for a 180 degree insertion. The rest of the fleet soon followed the flagship's example and over seven thousand fighters descended from all sides of the planet.

Despite the fairly close proximity of the remaining squadrons, Magnus' honour guards never wavered from their protective formation. They had sworn to safeguard Vontor and they would see it done, no matter the cost. It was demonstration of such intense loyalty that made Xaart's features quirk into a slight grin. The Vanguard knew that the Malign Imperium could not survive if he were to die before passing on, at least the core of, his teachings to Commander Kasaros. They had barley recovered from one transition and it would be impossible for their order to survive another.

"Captain Tarterik," Xaart spoke into his helmet's COM, addressing the newly chosen Vanguard Commander, "Separate formations in crescent pattern."

Malign COM systems were integrated into every helmet design. Operating on the principle of infinite frequency modulations, the system continuously shifted its frequency every three seconds. Unless another system was precisely calibrated, the message would be lost; this ensured the impossibility of enemy forces monitoring communication traffic

"Yes Vontor," Tarterik responded, relaying the orders to the two squadrons following Vontor.

Xaart watched as the six other fighters of his personal guard quickly formed the ordered configuration. With Xaart in the lead, the successive lines were close enough to offer protection, but far enough away to allow for evasive action. The remaining squadron followed suite and eighteen fighters accelerated ahead to lead the invasion.

"Deploy all assault wings," Vontor's voice reached the ears of every fighter pilot, "Capacitors to maximum."

The Shirak pilots complied, completing the craft's total armament of twelve dual extirpator cannons. "We're approaching the target location Vontor," Captain Tarterik reported after a few seconds, "Scanners detect various aliens clustered around an atmospheric station."

No sooner had the Vanguard commander spoken, then the fighters had broken through the dense atmospheric gases as they crossed into the planets thermosphere. True to Tarterik's report, a large cylindrical station dominated the surroundings. A group of creatures were moving around them, their anatomy was far from what would be expected from natural aviators. Elongated necks gave way to a massive bulk that sported twelve muscular limbs. The presence of a wide, armoured tail and powerful jaw gave testament to the presence of a terrestrial predator.

A loud shriek erupted in the sky as the unidentifiable newcomers accelerated toward their targets. The creatures reacted, moving toward the safety of the closest atmospheric station. "They're retreating," Captain Tarterik's voice was filled with surprise at the tactic.

"Vontor," One of his elite reported, "I'm detecting an influx of energy emissions from the station. It could be a weapon's charging cycle."

Xaart features quirked into a tight smile. Perhaps these creatures can still pose a challenge, he thought before responding to the report. "Break formation, three Shiraks per attack profile."

The pilots responded; the crescent formation instantly dissolved into six separate triangular patterns. Vontor swerved his craft in a sharp roll, Captain Tarterik and another guard mirroring his own movements precisely. A tightly concentrated beam lanced away from the station, heading to the centre of the previously held crescent formation. "Never underestimate your enemies Captain," Xaart said with a slight reprimand to the Captain's earlier statement. A few of the creatures turned back around after the station's weapon discharge and moved toward the outsiders. The Malign warlord didn't wait to test their combat capabilities. "Warriors, advance! Let none stand in your way!"

A surge of approval echoed from the nearby Shirak pilots, their weapons firing rampantly. High impact plasma capsules descended toward the creatures and the station, tearing through flesh and metal alike. Bright orange flashes followed the capsule impacts, signalling the plasma dispersals. Flesh cauterized and metal melted in the wake of the secondary payload. Hundreds of extirpator rounds followed the first wave, targeting the station that loomed ahead. The station's hull proved fruitless in deflecting the barrage, dense metal plating was quickly riddled with hundred of plasma capsules. While the capsules themselves may not have been large enough to inflict anything more than superficial damage, the superheated gas quickly spread through the station.

Another beam lanced from one of the station's hard-points, heading toward one of the triangular patterns. The three fighters were already moving before the energy beam was fired. For any other fighter, the result would have been destruction. But the highly manoeuvrable Shirak enabled the pilots to escape such a fate. They only broke their formation for a scant unit before reforming to continue the assault.

The bombarded continued for another minute before the hull damage went beyond design specifications. A blue flash appeared in the lower portions of the station, a serious of concussive explosions soon followed and the Malign ceased fire with the realization that their target was going critical. The Shirak pilots watched as an explosive shockwave moved away from the station, destabilizing whatever equipment was responsible for letting the structure maintain altitude. It plummeted to the scarred surface below, the shrieks from the life forms trapped inside lowered in volume until it impacted into the planet with a thunderous crack.

Victory and disappointment surged in Vontor at that moment, the elation of another world conquered by his forces, while at the same time defeating an enemy that was hardly challenging. "Are there any more creatures within range Captain," The warlord's query having been addressed to Tarterik alone.

"Negative my Lord," Tarterik responded, "Our sister squadrons have dealt with their opposition. Reports from the other Commanders suggest that the enemy is already close to surrender. Total control is imminent my Lord."

"Remember my teachings Captain," Xaart responded coldly, "Victory is by no means certain. No matter how weak a species may appear, ferocity and tactical insight may only diminish when the planet has been secured. Otherwise, enemies may gain the upper hand."

"Yes, Vontor," Tarterik said wearily, "Forgive my assumption, I will refrain from making such predictions in the future."

"No forgiveness is necessary Captain, but you must remember that you are the second in line for succession. You would do well to adhere to my words."

"Yes Vontor."

"If our part in this invasion is over then" Vontor said, his words having been redirected on a COM channel to every pilot of the two squadron under his command, "We will return to the flagship. Captain Tarterik, summon the other commanders once we are aboard, they have enough data for a decision."

"I will see it done my Lord."

A full rotation later saw Vontor back on the command module of the Relentless, Captain Tarterik and five other Vanguard had resumed their posts on the ramp ascending to their warlord. Two of them faced inward to look at the three warriors only five paces away from Vontor. The Vanguard regarded the three newcomers with a look of indifference, though their hands rested on their holstered plasma blades.

The three performed the traditional greeting to the warlord, who turned around to meet their gazes. The three were from the different ranks of the Imperium. Starting from Commander Kasaros down to a typical warrior, the three stood ready to voice their observations to Vontor. "What is your assessment of these creatures Commander?" Xaart queried as he turned to his second in command.

"Judging from the scans of their technology, it's been concluded that they are innovative in design. Cybernetic technology was implanted directly into their bodies to enable flight in order to escape the cataclysmic scarring of their planet. I would say it would be worth plundering at the very least my Lord."

Vontor acknowledged Kasaros' statement, then turned his attention to one of the Squadron Leaders. "What would you say of their combat capabilities?"

"Far from note-worthy Vontor, barley a handful of pilots were lost. Their entire planet was conquered in less than a rotation."

"I am aware of the time it took to conquer Commander, stick to your report in the future."

The Squadron Leader suddenly appeared very weary, he had to suppress the urge to quake with fear at the warlord's cold gaze. "Yes Vontor."

"And you, pilot?"

"My Lord, I would concur with the Squadron Leader. Their combat weaponry was ineffective and they were unable to show any real resistance, even with such a clear threat in their midst."

"Well said pilot," Vontor said before regarding the group before, "Your assessments have been noted." Motioning to the pilot and Squadron Leader Xaart said, "You are dismissed."

The two made another signature salute to the warlord before turning in place and marching out of the command centre. "Commander," Vontor said as he spun to face the panel displaying the planet below, "Send out search parties to scavenge any technology of value."

Kasaros wordlessly obeyed, he headed out to relay the warlord's command.

-

Commander Kasaros returned a few cycles later, once Vontor had acknowledged his presence, and the Vanguard relaxed their posture, he made his report. "All of the raiding parties have returned my Lord. All technology of value has been secured. Two of the dead creatures have also been recovered; a few of the researchers wish to examine their cybernetic implants."

"Tell them to proceed," Vontor replied absently, "Expediently if possible." Xaart turned from the panel showing the fleet's current positions and turned toward to look at the port crewpit. "Is the fleet in position?"

"Yes Vontor," The navigator responded after a brief glance at his console, "All Primary Officers report ready."

Vontor turned back to the panel showing the planet below and said with a loud roar, "All batteries, fire!"

The Relentless' gunnery operators responded at once, all of the forward quad extirpator batteries fired their enormous payload in rapid succession, with the rest of the fleet following the flagship's lead. The entire sphere was soon ablaze with thousands of extirpator rounds.

A grim smile made its way to the warlord's face as he watched another planet burn. The remaining stations had been the fleet's priority targets, though Vontor prided himself on efficiency and he continued to watch as the surface looked as though it were being assaulted by thousands of comet impacts.

The Relentless' gunnery crew soon ceased fire, with the fleet stopping just as quickly, "The priority targets have been neutralized, my Lord," The closest operator reported.

Vontor stood silent for a few moments, "Switch to the plasma cannons. Strip away the planets atmosphere; ensure this planet can never breed any more pathetic life forms."

At the warlord's command, the Relentless opened fire once more, dual bright yellow orbs erupted from the two forward cannons, arcing toward the planet below. Space seemed to erupt in yellow fire, with the other Primary Officers giving the order to fire again,

Slowly, the superheated gasses ate away at the planet's atmosphere until it had been completely dispelled, leaving the planetoid a mere echo of what it had once been.

This is one of those chapters where I really want to know what you guys think.

Comments and critics on my future sci-fi race would be much appreciated.

Or just press back and look at something else, whatever works for you...