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Mother Confessor:

As I sit in contemplation of why the rogue freighter is heading this way, I survey my wide array of instruments. Will not be long now before they make their descent upon my scorched home world. I am glad that the simple beings here have heeded my warning and issuance of evacuation. I can hear a muted panic outside my compound walls. Tension grips my own nerves as well. This unexpected event, and unknown mariners in their travels. My secret desire for it to be a false claim of intrusion. Yet I cannot shake the fearful thoughts from my mind. Having dealt with so many that would gladly abuse my services, or others that want me outright to own. My thoughts torment me as I survey some of my other less interesting trophies. A strange curved sword, and an even more bizarre hammer rest before my gaze. Both seem rather barbaric in my opinion, but who am I to judge what a warrior wields in combat. I have very little knowledge of combat beyond some of the energy and projectile weapons used between the Terran, Centurian , and others. Though the simplicity of the hammer and sword suggest that they are fashioned after an era several centuries past.

Settling to place the sword upon a belt, assuming this is the practical way to carry the weapon. The hammer with many formidable spikes on one side and a pyramidal hook on the other in my hands. It is heavy in my slender fingers. Not used to such tools. Mustering all of my strength, I take a few practice swings at an empty wall. The result is primitive yet effective. The metal wall bears indentation from the five spikes of the hammer. The second brings the metal to buckle a bit more than just scarring the surface. Better save my strength for what may come. Placing the heavy implement by the main hatch.

I continue my curiosity to the sword. Unsheathing it from my makeshift belt. It is not as heavy as the hammer it, but it has a definite weight to it. Inspecting the curved blade closely in fascination. Noticing several small chips in the blade, no doubt from contact with numerous other weapons, armor, and bodies. The overall design seems far more graceful opposing the hammer. Testing the sharpness of the sword by lightly sliding a delicate finger across a small length of blade. Instantly I recoil my hand, my blue blood flowing from the shallow wound in the digit. Clumsily replacing the blade back in it’s sheath, I hunt for a dressing for my unlucky digit.

Feeling less defenseless to an intrusion, and now with a repaired digit. The process of sewing the flesh back together was some what of a discomfort, but it was dulled by a small sense of arousal at what I had never imagined. The thought of all out battle disgusted me. Yet I cannot contain this new sensation of handling such brutally efficient tools of immolation. Sitting back in the high backed chair. Unable to control my urges, I pleasure myself at the thoughts of the power I now possessed. The closest intimacy I felt, since I have never indulged in actual intimacy with another. I relinquish myself to the more basic impulse.

Marckus:

Just as I had predicted, once we caught up with the freighter. She had a small formation of medium and light armor in escort. A malicious excitement pulses through me. Not long from now we will have our first victory. Our destination a world so black, it was almost indifferent to the space it occupied. With that I headed to the docking bay.

Making a short stop at the armory for my heavy armored jacket and custom desert eagle pistol. The jacket hung down low like a trench coat. I run to the bay with a mad glee.

I tell the teams to roll out. Aboard the drop ship with Captain Graxis, I chat with him as we depart.

“I hope this goes as smoothly as I anticipate it will”, I say to him as I slam the magazine into the pistol and chamber a round.

“I as well Commander”, he replies his eyes never leaving my weapon. “What exactly is the goal after we capture the rogue”, he asks me as I place the pistol in my shoulder holster.

“We find out what they are doing out here, though as you know there is a small compound just outside of the main city. My guess is that whatever is in that compound is why they are here”, I offer my opinion.The comms speaker cuts in.

“Look sharp! The freighter is landing! T minus 10 minutes till drop!”, the pilot delivers in a cold professional tone.

“Well boys, are you ready to party,” I bark following the pilot.

The sound of weapons being locked and loaded affirms my question. “So captain, this is the Mother Confessor’s home. Have you ever seen what it or she looks like”, I ask.

“I have never had the pleasure, nor the condemnation sir. But from what I have heard in tales is that she is unlike anything you could ever imagine”, he relays with an air of fear in his tone.

Sounds mythical to me, despite what I have heard from former political powers privately. So what they say is true after all, at least about this being that technically doesn’t exist.