Poems of Love and Loss
These words I share.
Some poetry, some prose,
that is just the way it goes.
Words of love, sorrow, loss and pain.
Do not read them with any disdain.
Some poetry, some prose,
that is just the way it goes.
Words of love, sorrow, loss and pain.
Do not read them with any disdain.
You walked away
You walked away,
turning my nights into days.
My world into shadows
of darkness and grey.
As the sun sets on a love untrue.
My heart bleeds in its love of you.
© Copyright 2015 Blair Stuart
This life I lead
This life I lead
memories of dastardly deeds
my time is now one
in which there is no sun
I walk alone
dreams I own
dreams of shame
that was their game.
I cry out in sleep,
these dreams
I wish not to keep,
Though all I can do
is silently weep,
for a life I cannot keep.
© Copyright 2015 Blair Stuart
A life untold
A life of pain
filled with disdain.
I walk alone down darkened lanes,
wishing only to stop, the endless trains.
I wish to be free,
of shackles you can't see.
Is death all that is left for me?
© Copyright 2015 Blair Stuart
Once upon a dream.
by Blair Stuart on Friday, July 9, 2010 at 9:21pm
Once upon a dream
my love,
we were Lovers
whose souls danced
in the sunlight of day,
casting nary a thought
for our tomorrows.
We made love,
with passion unbridled,
giving no thought
to our future..
For ours was the love
of Soulmates,
deemed to stand
the test of time.
Aaah, what little did we know.
For our love was
all too soon
to be shattered,
much as the storm,
lays waste the garden.
Our souls,
driven far apart
never to find
their way back again.
If only we had known
So my Love.
If in the twilight
of my memory,
we should meet yet again,
we shall speak
once more, of a love
that was meant
to last forever..
You and I will sing
to each others souls.
Though I will listen
my beloved,
as you sing to me a deeper song,
of things that may have been.
when our hands touch
in yet another dream,
we shall build again
our Castle in the sky.
These things, my love,
we will do.
If only in my Dreams of you.
© 2015 Blair Stuart Stuart Media Services ~ All Rights Reserved
Once upon a dream
my love,
we were Lovers
whose souls danced
in the sunlight of day,
casting nary a thought
for our tomorrows.
We made love,
with passion unbridled,
giving no thought
to our future..
For ours was the love
of Soulmates,
deemed to stand
the test of time.
Aaah, what little did we know.
For our love was
all too soon
to be shattered,
much as the storm,
lays waste the garden.
Our souls,
driven far apart
never to find
their way back again.
If only we had known
So my Love.
If in the twilight
of my memory,
we should meet yet again,
we shall speak
once more, of a love
that was meant
to last forever..
You and I will sing
to each others souls.
Though I will listen
my beloved,
as you sing to me a deeper song,
of things that may have been.
when our hands touch
in yet another dream,
we shall build again
our Castle in the sky.
These things, my love,
we will do.
If only in my Dreams of you.
© 2015 Blair Stuart Stuart Media Services ~ All Rights Reserved
Without Her
by Blair Stuart on Thursday, February 3, 2011 at 7:23am
He stood there, eyes closed. The only sound to be heard was of him breathing deeply of her fragrance, a fragrance which still lingered in the air.
As his breathing quietened he slowly opened his eyes and cast his gaze upon her. Her classic beauty never ceased to stir the fire in his blood, he felt the familiar urges course through his veins as he admired her graceful lines; the voluptuous body that he knew so intimately.
Even though they had mellowed together over the years, his need for her was as strong now as it had been in the beginning.
With the memory of her scent still teasingly lingering in the corners of his mind he reached out to touch, for the very last time, her now cold form.
Closing his eyes, he gently moved his hands, running them over her rounded smoothness, reveling in the feelings as his fingers traced the graceful lines of her form.
His breathing slowed as he rested his hands on the fullness of her curves, before allowing them to descend to the hollows where he pauseD allowing time for the memory of his touch to be forever set, deep within the recesses of his mind.
These memories he would take with him, for he would never again possess her...
Was just a moment in time, even as it seemed to him an eternity, as he gently caressed her, allowing the smoothness of her body to flow beneath his fingers, a body that he had loved so well.
He heard again the whisperings, the soft voices calling him, encouraging him to leave her. Slowly he withdrew his hands from her, satisfied her every curve, her very essence was etched forever into his memory.
With a sad smile brushing across his lips, he straightened before reluctantly turning away from her side, striding forward with a steady gait towards the ever beckoning light.
The time had come to take the walk.
As the light beckoned him, he heard again the voices as they whispered his name, calling him on. Voices so familiar and loving, friends, family, loved ones, who had taken this journey, who had gone before…
Yet he was not ready to let her go. Trembling, he stopped, hesitating before turning to take one last look at her, sighing as his eyes rested on her familiar form, taking in her sculptured lines, remembering how with the simple turn of his fingers she would come to life.
He called out her name, beseeching her to acknowledge his love, yet knowing full well that she could not reply.
There was no going back. He must walk forward.
With a heavy heart he turned away, hearing once again the voices calling him, ever forward towards the light
He could delay no longer. This was his journey. He must walk forward
Alone.
She could not come. This, his greatest journey, and She could not come
He knew all too well that she would never understand how he could have left her.
Why his love had deserted her.
Why She was alone and cold.
She was destined to wait forever more, longing for his return.
© 2015 Blair Stuart Stuart Media Services ~ All Rights Reserved
As his breathing quietened he slowly opened his eyes and cast his gaze upon her. Her classic beauty never ceased to stir the fire in his blood, he felt the familiar urges course through his veins as he admired her graceful lines; the voluptuous body that he knew so intimately.
Even though they had mellowed together over the years, his need for her was as strong now as it had been in the beginning.
With the memory of her scent still teasingly lingering in the corners of his mind he reached out to touch, for the very last time, her now cold form.
Closing his eyes, he gently moved his hands, running them over her rounded smoothness, reveling in the feelings as his fingers traced the graceful lines of her form.
His breathing slowed as he rested his hands on the fullness of her curves, before allowing them to descend to the hollows where he pauseD allowing time for the memory of his touch to be forever set, deep within the recesses of his mind.
These memories he would take with him, for he would never again possess her...
Was just a moment in time, even as it seemed to him an eternity, as he gently caressed her, allowing the smoothness of her body to flow beneath his fingers, a body that he had loved so well.
He heard again the whisperings, the soft voices calling him, encouraging him to leave her. Slowly he withdrew his hands from her, satisfied her every curve, her very essence was etched forever into his memory.
With a sad smile brushing across his lips, he straightened before reluctantly turning away from her side, striding forward with a steady gait towards the ever beckoning light.
The time had come to take the walk.
As the light beckoned him, he heard again the voices as they whispered his name, calling him on. Voices so familiar and loving, friends, family, loved ones, who had taken this journey, who had gone before…
Yet he was not ready to let her go. Trembling, he stopped, hesitating before turning to take one last look at her, sighing as his eyes rested on her familiar form, taking in her sculptured lines, remembering how with the simple turn of his fingers she would come to life.
He called out her name, beseeching her to acknowledge his love, yet knowing full well that she could not reply.
There was no going back. He must walk forward.
With a heavy heart he turned away, hearing once again the voices calling him, ever forward towards the light
He could delay no longer. This was his journey. He must walk forward
Alone.
She could not come. This, his greatest journey, and She could not come
He knew all too well that she would never understand how he could have left her.
Why his love had deserted her.
Why She was alone and cold.
She was destined to wait forever more, longing for his return.
© 2015 Blair Stuart Stuart Media Services ~ All Rights Reserved
Alone, she stood.
by Blair Stuart on Thursday, December 23, 2010 at 7:59am
Alone she stood, waiting for his return.
She had no memory of time gone by..........she longed only for the feel of his hand, as it moved ever so sensuously over her frame, following the sculptured lines of her curves.
She craved for his touch, the simple flick of his fingers, when he would turn her on again. That sought after moment, when her desires and needs were met
She ached for him to bring life back to her body, the unleashing of the power within her. A power that once released would set her heart racing.
She had never understood how the gentle touch of his hand could ignite her very soul with the most intensely powerful urges. Yet he always seemed to sense her deepest needs, as he lovingly coaxed her to a new level of pleasure.
She knew all too well his style, knew that he would tease her by holding her at her peak, before releasing her, bringing her back down and quieting her soul.
She could feel her very frame tremble in anticipation, as she awaited the sound of his fingers flexing in his gloves. Experience told her that he would pull her into an upright position, prior to mounting her.
He would then hold her in that position, flexing the fingers of his right hand, tightening his grip and taking her back to the point where she would again roar with an all consuming passion, inflaming within her a fire that would burst forth from the very heart of her body.
She hungered for that instant in time when he would once again make her soul soar with the unadulterated power that he and he alone, could release in her.
There had been others before her, there were younger ones who tempted him even now. He would always come back to her though, for she was his special one the one he called his "Keeper".
He had left her before but this was different, she was frightened, cold and alone.
She did not understand why he had left her here.
Did not understand why he had stopped to look back at her, emphatically calling out her name before turning slowly away disappearing into the White light.
In the silence of his going she waited, yearning for his touch, the sound of his leathers creaking as he moved softly to her side.
She felt a degree of tension course through her body, in anticipation of feeling him run his hands along her frame, stroking, touching, gently caressing her body prior to mounting her and taking her to places she had never been before.
She had wanted to call out to him...but could not.
No she did not understand why her rider had gone.
© 2015 Blair Stuart Stuart Media Services ~ All Rights Reserved
At the end of his last long ride.
by Blair Stuart on Wednesday, December 22, 2010 at 7:38am
At the end of his last long ride, he cast his eyes over her graceful lines and reached out to touch for the very last time, her now cold frame.
He stood there alongside her for what seemed an eternity, but twas just a moment in time. Slowly withdrawing his hand from her body, a body he knew so well, every shape, every curve etched forever into his memory.
For the time had come to take the walk!
With a sad smile upon his lips, he reluctantly turned away from her and strode, with a steady gait, towards the ever beckoning light.
For the time had come to take the walk!
As the light beckoned him forward, he could hear the voices of those gone before, calling him, whispering his name........he stopped and turned to take one last look at her. Once more admiring her lines, the smoothness of her curves, the sheer power in her frame.
He called out her name, knowing full well that she could not reply,as he tore his eyes from her for there was no going back.
For the time had come to take the walk!
With a heavy heart he turned, hearing once again the voices calling him forward, ever forward towards the light!
This was one journey that he would have to do alone, for his time had come and he could delay no longer.
© 2015 Blair Stuart Stuart Media Services ~ All Rights Reserved
At the end of his last long ride, he cast his eyes over her graceful lines and reached out to touch for the very last time, her now cold frame.
He stood there alongside her for what seemed an eternity, but twas just a moment in time. Slowly withdrawing his hand from her body, a body he knew so well, every shape, every curve etched forever into his memory.
For the time had come to take the walk!
With a sad smile upon his lips, he reluctantly turned away from her and strode, with a steady gait, towards the ever beckoning light.
For the time had come to take the walk!
As the light beckoned him forward, he could hear the voices of those gone before, calling him, whispering his name........he stopped and turned to take one last look at her. Once more admiring her lines, the smoothness of her curves, the sheer power in her frame.
He called out her name, knowing full well that she could not reply,as he tore his eyes from her for there was no going back.
For the time had come to take the walk!
With a heavy heart he turned, hearing once again the voices calling him forward, ever forward towards the light!
This was one journey that he would have to do alone, for his time had come and he could delay no longer.
© 2015 Blair Stuart Stuart Media Services ~ All Rights Reserved
Ghost Rider
by Blair Stuart on Thursday, December 23, 2010 at 8:19pm
Casting his eyes skyward, he knew his time had come.
His dying thoughts were of her, of the love he felt for her.
A love that still beat strongly within his chest........ for though he had given her his Heart, she had taken his Soul.
He knew now that he had given his Heart to one of the lost ones, a vagrant solitaire....a taker of souls.
Just as he knew that his love for her would curse him to ride forever the storms of a twilight world twix life and death.
He knew that he would never know peace, never be free to join those who had gone before.
Knew he was dammed for all eternity to search the twilight world for his lost soul....
A Ghost Rider, doomed to forever ride the skies, never to be freed from his earthly ties.
Even as he felt the emptiness grow within him, he could no more stop loving her than he could alter his destiny.
Forever more to be tormented by the voices of the lost ones. Calling out his name in whispered tones.
Forever cursed.
One of the Lost Riders trapped, twix life and death.
© 2015 Blair Stuart Stuart Media Services ~ All Rights Reserved
Casting his eyes skyward, he knew his time had come.
His dying thoughts were of her, of the love he felt for her.
A love that still beat strongly within his chest........ for though he had given her his Heart, she had taken his Soul.
He knew now that he had given his Heart to one of the lost ones, a vagrant solitaire....a taker of souls.
Just as he knew that his love for her would curse him to ride forever the storms of a twilight world twix life and death.
He knew that he would never know peace, never be free to join those who had gone before.
Knew he was dammed for all eternity to search the twilight world for his lost soul....
A Ghost Rider, doomed to forever ride the skies, never to be freed from his earthly ties.
Even as he felt the emptiness grow within him, he could no more stop loving her than he could alter his destiny.
Forever more to be tormented by the voices of the lost ones. Calling out his name in whispered tones.
Forever cursed.
One of the Lost Riders trapped, twix life and death.
© 2015 Blair Stuart Stuart Media Services ~ All Rights Reserved
An Alien Landscape
Chapter One ~ Abandoned
A Hostile Environment
Abandoned in a hostile environment, it had taken the survivors several hours to climb up to the small cave like opening located half way up the cliff face. Though some of the warriors were keen to climb higher, their leader knew that the women and children were too exhausted, and could go no further.
The hour was late and with the approaching dusk came a sense of fear and foreboding, causing the survivors to huddle closer together. Many amongst them acutely aware that even this high up the cliff they were far from being safe.
The tension slowly built as they nervously watched the mist creep slowly from the valley floor; its cold, damp tendrils slithering like snakes over the rocks as it moved inexorably upwards.
They knew that the mist was a harbinger of death, in the form of Alien creatures. Never seen but heard and felt they were creatures of the mist. They attacked with ferocity, tearing the very flesh from their victim’s bones.
With so many already dead, experience had shown them that their weapons would be of little use in defending against the attacks, for they were the prey, to be hunted down to the last.
The feeling of impending doom that had hung over the survivors for hours deepened, for each knew that this time perhaps their deaths were as inevitable as the clinging mist that was soon to engulf them.
Fearful they turned to each other with many taking time to embrace, seeking solace in the warmth and humanity to be found in the comfort of human touch. For some it was a final gesture of goodbye, for others an attempt to lessen the memories of the screams and pleas of those who had already fallen victim to the voraciousness of the creatures.
The screams of those dying had echoed chillingly through the swirling mist below, causing the survivors to huddle even closer together. When the screams subsided, the only sound heard was the soft whimpering of the children. Children who had been guided into a small cave in the cliff face, in a vain and seemingly futile attempt to provide some protection for them.
Olaf, a mountain of a man, seen by all as the group leader, looked around but could barely discern the faces of those that remained. In the stillness he called out, his voice sounding louder than he intended it to, asking everyone, to identify themselves man, woman and child.
With the calling of the last name, Olaf shuddered, chest tight as he exhaled, shocked that only a mere four dozen adults and eighteen children had answered his behest.
Their ranks had been reduces significantly, for unless there were other survivors still in hiding, the death toll from the last attacks had claimed 38 of their numbers, not discriminating between men, women or children.
They understood that with the approaching dusk, time was against them. There was to be no escape from another series of attacks by these invisible mist shrouded creatures. There was no hiding this time, nowhere left to run.
There was little to do but watch and wait for the mist to swirl around, enshrouding them in a cloak of terror and fear.
They all knew that once the first wisps of mist crept over the ledge, they would feel again its dankness as it swirled and danced around their feet, gripping at their clothes like claws. Aware that as its tendrils slowly rose up their bodies their world would once again start descending into the living nightmare in which nothing would be seen, only felt.
The curses of the living and screams of the dying would not be the only sounds heard, in what was all too soon to become a living hell.
Chapter Two ~ the Aftermath
Fight for Survival
Standing at the entrance to the cave, Olaf straightened himself, gazing down into the mist, noting that its swirling had intensified as a dark shadow materialised, climbing steadily with determination, over the rocks towards him.
Olaf concentrated his gaze, eyes narrowing at the appearing form. As he watched, the mist parted briefly to reveal the approaching warrior, his trusted Lieutenant Strykejorn, clothes torn and disheveled. Drawing closer, Olaf noted the dried blood caked to his face, one arm hanging loosely by his side.
With mixed feelings he watched on silently, though the mist had once again closed in around the warrior, giving him a ghostly wraith like appearance as he made his way steadily towards him.
As the distance shortened Olaf stirred himself, stepping forward to greet Strykejorn, taking his arm, helping him up over the ruble, they embracing as equals. Facing each other, much was said in the glances that passed between them, but no words were uttered. Although delighted that Strykejern was still alive after the last attacks. Olaf could not help but wonder if, given the injuries he stoically bore, Strykejern, would survive the next attacks, which both men knew would resume with the coming mist.
That the creatures would renew their attacks on those that remained was accepted, that and the fact that they were almost powerless to stop them. Both men were aware that though they would kill a few of the creatures, unless they could fortify their position their losses would again be high, with the strong chance that they would all be taken.
Without a word, the warrior turned and following the line of his leaders extended arm, he moved to where the children were. With silent commands, using the older children to help, Strykejorn moved them further back into the relative safety of the cave.
As terrified as they were, these young ones who had endured much, looked up at him with trusting eyes. With no complaint or hesitation they then did as they were bid.
Standing with his back to the cold rock wall, he watched the older children follow the young ones deeper into the cave. So trusting and obedient, unlike some of his men, he wryly thought.
Olaf was all too aware that dawn, though still hours away, was their only hope. For with the coming of dawn the mist would start to dissipate and with it would go the creatures. How to ensure that they survived till then was the thought uppermost in his mind.
He had the inkling of a plan...around which his Lieutenant was to be the key to its success or failure.
Fight for Survival
Standing at the entrance to the cave, Olaf straightened himself, gazing down into the mist, noting that its swirling had intensified as a dark shadow materialised, climbing steadily with determination, over the rocks towards him.
Olaf concentrated his gaze, eyes narrowing at the appearing form. As he watched, the mist parted briefly to reveal the approaching warrior, his trusted Lieutenant Strykejorn, clothes torn and disheveled. Drawing closer, Olaf noted the dried blood caked to his face, one arm hanging loosely by his side.
With mixed feelings he watched on silently, though the mist had once again closed in around the warrior, giving him a ghostly wraith like appearance as he made his way steadily towards him.
As the distance shortened Olaf stirred himself, stepping forward to greet Strykejorn, taking his arm, helping him up over the ruble, they embracing as equals. Facing each other, much was said in the glances that passed between them, but no words were uttered. Although delighted that Strykejern was still alive after the last attacks. Olaf could not help but wonder if, given the injuries he stoically bore, Strykejern, would survive the next attacks, which both men knew would resume with the coming mist.
That the creatures would renew their attacks on those that remained was accepted, that and the fact that they were almost powerless to stop them. Both men were aware that though they would kill a few of the creatures, unless they could fortify their position their losses would again be high, with the strong chance that they would all be taken.
Without a word, the warrior turned and following the line of his leaders extended arm, he moved to where the children were. With silent commands, using the older children to help, Strykejorn moved them further back into the relative safety of the cave.
As terrified as they were, these young ones who had endured much, looked up at him with trusting eyes. With no complaint or hesitation they then did as they were bid.
Standing with his back to the cold rock wall, he watched the older children follow the young ones deeper into the cave. So trusting and obedient, unlike some of his men, he wryly thought.
Olaf was all too aware that dawn, though still hours away, was their only hope. For with the coming of dawn the mist would start to dissipate and with it would go the creatures. How to ensure that they survived till then was the thought uppermost in his mind.
He had the inkling of a plan...around which his Lieutenant was to be the key to its success or failure.
Chapter Three ~ the Rescue Mission
A matter of conjecture
Flight Commander Xavier De Groen and Captain Joshua (The Bear) Andreyivich walked silently from the briefing lost in their own thoughts. As they entered the lift to take them down to the Flight Deck, Andreyivich turned to his Commander…. His tone was of a man deeply troubled.
“Do they know what the hell they are asking of us?”
De Groen, laughed
“I doubt it, none of those desk jockeys have the slightest idea what is waiting for us”.
Andreyivich nodded in agreeance, before returning to his own thoughts.
In silence the two men exited the lift walking out onto the floor of the Flight Deck, gazing in the direction of two gleaming ships, as countless Technicians and support staff moved, in what seemed like organized chaos, around and into the craft.
Although 10 years younger than him, having flown many missions together, The Bear was De Groen’s first choice to pilot the Troop Carrier. It was Xavier’s opinion that there was no man alive, who was better to have at your back. Initially Andreyivich, on learning the details of the Mission, had turned down the request and it had taken Xavier some considerable effort and costly bribes to change his mind. Besides, as Xavier had told him, he had no intention of returning to Zervios 1X without his Wingman.
As the two men watched the frantic activity on the Flight Deck, Xavier once again ran through his mind the details of the Rescue craft. The only concession he had been able to drag out of Flight Command was that he be allowed to choose his own ships. He had met some resistance when he requested that they be allocated an ATCR-75 ANDROMEDA Troop Carrier. Flight Command had pushed hard to persuade him to take a Xenon mark 2 Cruiser, much newer in design, she was, in Xavier’s and the Bears opinion, a lesser craft and one subject to some spectacular in flight failures. Whilst both conceded that she was faster and better armed they insisted that she was also not a craft that they were prepared to take a gamble on.
Whereas the ATCR-75 though not all that fast, having limited Warp speed capabilities, were well tested and the most reliable ship in Flight Command's Fleet capable of delivering 300 Troopers and their equipment almost anywhere in the known Galaxy. The choice of the Fighter escort was an easy win for Xavier.
Having won the battle with his superiors over their choice of ships, Xavier and Andreyivich had personally supervised the modifications to the ATCR-75, ANDROMEDA. At their insistence the Tech Crews had fitted additional fuel pods into the cargo bay. This added substantially to her overall weight but increased her range. A modification that Xavier had the gut feeling would prove to be invaluable.
With accommodations for 200 passengers, the ANDROMEDA was designed as a luxurious Interstellar transport. The Military ATCR-75 version had been stripped of all the luxury passenger comforts and cut down to the basic seating / sleeping and storage requirements necessary to move 300 Troopers and their gear. For this mission though, Xavier had had the interior redesigned to incorporate a fully equipped ER / Sick Bay plus accommodations for 25 Troopers and possibly 150 passengers.
The Support craft, a XAF-25 Single seat Fighter, was a Top of the Line combat craft personally chosen by the Flight Commander for its lethal firepower, speed and maneuverability.
As far as Xavier and The Bear were concerned, Command was well and truly overly optimistic if they thought for one minute that all 150 in the group they were suppose to rescue, had survived.
No, Xavier grimly thought, given their previous encounters with the creatures roaming Zervios 1X, he doubted if any would be filling those empty seats.
A matter of conjecture
Flight Commander Xavier De Groen and Captain Joshua (The Bear) Andreyivich walked silently from the briefing lost in their own thoughts. As they entered the lift to take them down to the Flight Deck, Andreyivich turned to his Commander…. His tone was of a man deeply troubled.
“Do they know what the hell they are asking of us?”
De Groen, laughed
“I doubt it, none of those desk jockeys have the slightest idea what is waiting for us”.
Andreyivich nodded in agreeance, before returning to his own thoughts.
In silence the two men exited the lift walking out onto the floor of the Flight Deck, gazing in the direction of two gleaming ships, as countless Technicians and support staff moved, in what seemed like organized chaos, around and into the craft.
Although 10 years younger than him, having flown many missions together, The Bear was De Groen’s first choice to pilot the Troop Carrier. It was Xavier’s opinion that there was no man alive, who was better to have at your back. Initially Andreyivich, on learning the details of the Mission, had turned down the request and it had taken Xavier some considerable effort and costly bribes to change his mind. Besides, as Xavier had told him, he had no intention of returning to Zervios 1X without his Wingman.
As the two men watched the frantic activity on the Flight Deck, Xavier once again ran through his mind the details of the Rescue craft. The only concession he had been able to drag out of Flight Command was that he be allowed to choose his own ships. He had met some resistance when he requested that they be allocated an ATCR-75 ANDROMEDA Troop Carrier. Flight Command had pushed hard to persuade him to take a Xenon mark 2 Cruiser, much newer in design, she was, in Xavier’s and the Bears opinion, a lesser craft and one subject to some spectacular in flight failures. Whilst both conceded that she was faster and better armed they insisted that she was also not a craft that they were prepared to take a gamble on.
Whereas the ATCR-75 though not all that fast, having limited Warp speed capabilities, were well tested and the most reliable ship in Flight Command's Fleet capable of delivering 300 Troopers and their equipment almost anywhere in the known Galaxy. The choice of the Fighter escort was an easy win for Xavier.
Having won the battle with his superiors over their choice of ships, Xavier and Andreyivich had personally supervised the modifications to the ATCR-75, ANDROMEDA. At their insistence the Tech Crews had fitted additional fuel pods into the cargo bay. This added substantially to her overall weight but increased her range. A modification that Xavier had the gut feeling would prove to be invaluable.
With accommodations for 200 passengers, the ANDROMEDA was designed as a luxurious Interstellar transport. The Military ATCR-75 version had been stripped of all the luxury passenger comforts and cut down to the basic seating / sleeping and storage requirements necessary to move 300 Troopers and their gear. For this mission though, Xavier had had the interior redesigned to incorporate a fully equipped ER / Sick Bay plus accommodations for 25 Troopers and possibly 150 passengers.
The Support craft, a XAF-25 Single seat Fighter, was a Top of the Line combat craft personally chosen by the Flight Commander for its lethal firepower, speed and maneuverability.
As far as Xavier and The Bear were concerned, Command was well and truly overly optimistic if they thought for one minute that all 150 in the group they were suppose to rescue, had survived.
No, Xavier grimly thought, given their previous encounters with the creatures roaming Zervios 1X, he doubted if any would be filling those empty seats.
Chapter Four ~ Zervios 1X
The Arrival
Once clear of the Space Station the two craft, having engaged their warp drives, sped rapidly onwards to Zevios 1X. As the craft charged across space bringing him ever closer to their destination, Flight Commander First Class Xavier De Groen felt the unease rising again, causing him to stir uncomfortably in his seat. Shivering involuntarily he gazed intently at the screen, watching as the planets solitary moon came into view. All too soon he knew the craft would penetrate the upper atmosphere breaking through the perpetual cloud cover and descend down to the hostile mist enshrouded surface of the planet.
Although the image of the approaching planet filled him with a sense of foreboding, Xavier found he could not pull his eyes away from the screen. The memories of his last visit were all too fresh and filled his mind with images he constantly fought against in his slumbers. Images he had hoped would remain as memories; never had he envisioned having to see them again.
Reaching down to his side he retrieved a flask from which he drank deeply, in a vain attempt to clear the dryness in his throat. Futile he thought, noting that not only was his mouth as dry as the desert sands, his glove covered hands were sweaty and clammy, a thin bead of sweat forming on his forehead just below his helmet.
Shaking his head he tried once again to clear his thoughts, as the visions of what lurked on the planet’s surface once again flashed across his mind’s eye.
Leaving Andreyivich and the ATCR-75 in Orbit, Xavier punched in the last coordinates that had been received, before easing the controls forward to send the XAF-25 racing down towards the planet’s surface. With the planets weak sun starting to rise over the horizon, the mist had already begun to draw back down the cliff face to the valley below where, given that the sun's rays never penetrated to the valley floor, it would settle there till the coolness of the night caused it to rise again.
Gazing intently in the direction of the foreboding cliffs that his fighter was rapidly approaching, Xavier shivered as a cold chill ran down his spine, his hands sweaty in his gloves as he maneuvered the XAF-25, sending it skimming across the mist covered surface of the planet. The distance falling away as it rapidly approached the last known co-ordinates of the survivors. Co-ordinates which placed them on the dark and foreboding cliffs of the Zerveous Mountain range.
Narrowing his eyes he lifted them from the screen and gazed intently in the direction of the approaching range, focusing them on Mount Zerveous, at 37,000 metres, under any other circumstances it would have been an awe inspiring sight, as it rose up steeply from the planet’s surface.
For Xavier though, its vision filled him, not with a sense of awe or wonderment, but with a sense of dread and a reawakening of the terrors of his last visit. Shaking his head, he forced himself to look away, now was not the time he thought, to be wondering if he would be as fortunate as the last time there.
Both he and Andreyivich were lucky to have escaped with their lives. He was under no illusions that the fact that he knew the terrain and had survived in its hostile environment was why Command had chosen him. Nonetheless he mused to himself, how in the name of all the Gods was he supposed to find anyone down there?
Even if they are still alive, which from his experiences with the creatures of the mist, he sorely doubted.
As much as he did not want to question his orders, Xavier could not help feeling that this mission was a complete waste of time and resources. His orders however were quite clear and he knew better than to argue with his Wing Commander. Time already spent in the brig, still fresh in his mind, served as a reminder of what such insubordination would bring.
Forcing his thoughts away from that unsavoury experience, he concentrated once more on the task at hand as he gently he eased the controls back, slowing the crafts approach, in order to give himself some time to think.
Reaching forward in his seat he doubled checked the coordinates of the last signal that had been picked up from the group. Once satisfied that he was still on course, and on returning the craft to autopilot, he settled back into his seats harness and tried to ease the tension that had built up in his body.
As he did so, casting his mind back to what little information he had been given, he again had grave misgivings about the mission.
Still their orders were straight forward enough and quite concise. They were to locate and rescue any survivors. Easier said than done, he thought. All he had to go on was a set of coordinates generated by a MOD 5 Distress Beacon, the number of members in the group, one hundred and fifty men, women and children.
When he asked as to the how and why they were on that godforsaken planet, he was told it was on a need to know basis..... And he did not need to know. The only additional information he needed to be aware of was that the men were heavily armed and of a warrior class.
The Arrival
Once clear of the Space Station the two craft, having engaged their warp drives, sped rapidly onwards to Zevios 1X. As the craft charged across space bringing him ever closer to their destination, Flight Commander First Class Xavier De Groen felt the unease rising again, causing him to stir uncomfortably in his seat. Shivering involuntarily he gazed intently at the screen, watching as the planets solitary moon came into view. All too soon he knew the craft would penetrate the upper atmosphere breaking through the perpetual cloud cover and descend down to the hostile mist enshrouded surface of the planet.
Although the image of the approaching planet filled him with a sense of foreboding, Xavier found he could not pull his eyes away from the screen. The memories of his last visit were all too fresh and filled his mind with images he constantly fought against in his slumbers. Images he had hoped would remain as memories; never had he envisioned having to see them again.
Reaching down to his side he retrieved a flask from which he drank deeply, in a vain attempt to clear the dryness in his throat. Futile he thought, noting that not only was his mouth as dry as the desert sands, his glove covered hands were sweaty and clammy, a thin bead of sweat forming on his forehead just below his helmet.
Shaking his head he tried once again to clear his thoughts, as the visions of what lurked on the planet’s surface once again flashed across his mind’s eye.
Leaving Andreyivich and the ATCR-75 in Orbit, Xavier punched in the last coordinates that had been received, before easing the controls forward to send the XAF-25 racing down towards the planet’s surface. With the planets weak sun starting to rise over the horizon, the mist had already begun to draw back down the cliff face to the valley below where, given that the sun's rays never penetrated to the valley floor, it would settle there till the coolness of the night caused it to rise again.
Gazing intently in the direction of the foreboding cliffs that his fighter was rapidly approaching, Xavier shivered as a cold chill ran down his spine, his hands sweaty in his gloves as he maneuvered the XAF-25, sending it skimming across the mist covered surface of the planet. The distance falling away as it rapidly approached the last known co-ordinates of the survivors. Co-ordinates which placed them on the dark and foreboding cliffs of the Zerveous Mountain range.
Narrowing his eyes he lifted them from the screen and gazed intently in the direction of the approaching range, focusing them on Mount Zerveous, at 37,000 metres, under any other circumstances it would have been an awe inspiring sight, as it rose up steeply from the planet’s surface.
For Xavier though, its vision filled him, not with a sense of awe or wonderment, but with a sense of dread and a reawakening of the terrors of his last visit. Shaking his head, he forced himself to look away, now was not the time he thought, to be wondering if he would be as fortunate as the last time there.
Both he and Andreyivich were lucky to have escaped with their lives. He was under no illusions that the fact that he knew the terrain and had survived in its hostile environment was why Command had chosen him. Nonetheless he mused to himself, how in the name of all the Gods was he supposed to find anyone down there?
Even if they are still alive, which from his experiences with the creatures of the mist, he sorely doubted.
As much as he did not want to question his orders, Xavier could not help feeling that this mission was a complete waste of time and resources. His orders however were quite clear and he knew better than to argue with his Wing Commander. Time already spent in the brig, still fresh in his mind, served as a reminder of what such insubordination would bring.
Forcing his thoughts away from that unsavoury experience, he concentrated once more on the task at hand as he gently he eased the controls back, slowing the crafts approach, in order to give himself some time to think.
Reaching forward in his seat he doubled checked the coordinates of the last signal that had been picked up from the group. Once satisfied that he was still on course, and on returning the craft to autopilot, he settled back into his seats harness and tried to ease the tension that had built up in his body.
As he did so, casting his mind back to what little information he had been given, he again had grave misgivings about the mission.
Still their orders were straight forward enough and quite concise. They were to locate and rescue any survivors. Easier said than done, he thought. All he had to go on was a set of coordinates generated by a MOD 5 Distress Beacon, the number of members in the group, one hundred and fifty men, women and children.
When he asked as to the how and why they were on that godforsaken planet, he was told it was on a need to know basis..... And he did not need to know. The only additional information he needed to be aware of was that the men were heavily armed and of a warrior class.
Chapter Five ~ the Search Begins
Blind Mans Bluff
In preparation for his final descent, to commence the first run along the cliff top Xavier once again ran his eyes over the gauges, estimating that he had a maximum of three hours available to him in which to conduct the search, after which time the weak sunlight would start to fade making it unsafe to continue and impossible to land even if he wanted to.
To verify his own calculations he thought it prudent to input all fuel and flight data into the onboard computer. Once done, it took the Flight Command Unit less than 30 seconds to flash up on its screen the requested calculations. He was not surprised at the results for they matched his own estimates.
The FCU Data confirmed that he would be able to do a maximum of three passes. Satisfied that all In-flight systems were in order he eased back into his seat, casting his mind over the rescue plan. The search and rescue plan, for want of a better word, was to cruise just above stall speed, as close as possible to the cliff face in the hope that any survivors would somehow be able to attract his attention.
The calculations showed that he would be able to do three passes and should there be any survivors still have enough time and fuel to land, call down the ATCR-75, set up a base camp and defensive positions well before dusk had set in.
If, however, after those three passes there was no sight of the survivors then his next plan was to hightail it out of there to dock for the night with the Carrier.
Convinced as he was that the mission was doomed to end in failure he was sorely tempted to turn both craft around, without conducting any search.
The only thing preventing him from doing so, was the nagging thought in the back of his mind, given the sophisticated and restricted Military grade equipment that these people already had used, there was a distinct possibility that there may well be other surprises to come, and maybe just maybe, thought Xavier there might be some survivors……
Blind Mans Bluff
In preparation for his final descent, to commence the first run along the cliff top Xavier once again ran his eyes over the gauges, estimating that he had a maximum of three hours available to him in which to conduct the search, after which time the weak sunlight would start to fade making it unsafe to continue and impossible to land even if he wanted to.
To verify his own calculations he thought it prudent to input all fuel and flight data into the onboard computer. Once done, it took the Flight Command Unit less than 30 seconds to flash up on its screen the requested calculations. He was not surprised at the results for they matched his own estimates.
The FCU Data confirmed that he would be able to do a maximum of three passes. Satisfied that all In-flight systems were in order he eased back into his seat, casting his mind over the rescue plan. The search and rescue plan, for want of a better word, was to cruise just above stall speed, as close as possible to the cliff face in the hope that any survivors would somehow be able to attract his attention.
The calculations showed that he would be able to do three passes and should there be any survivors still have enough time and fuel to land, call down the ATCR-75, set up a base camp and defensive positions well before dusk had set in.
If, however, after those three passes there was no sight of the survivors then his next plan was to hightail it out of there to dock for the night with the Carrier.
Convinced as he was that the mission was doomed to end in failure he was sorely tempted to turn both craft around, without conducting any search.
The only thing preventing him from doing so, was the nagging thought in the back of his mind, given the sophisticated and restricted Military grade equipment that these people already had used, there was a distinct possibility that there may well be other surprises to come, and maybe just maybe, thought Xavier there might be some survivors……
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Blair J. Stuart and Stuart Media Services.
Blair J. Stuart and Stuart Media Services.
