Hubart Savant (story by Grenzenlos)

Prologue: The Waxen Wings

It was a very simple dream that drove our ancestors to the stars. It's hard for the average man to understand the difference between simplicity and weakness at times, but it is often the simplest of desires, which are the strongest. And it was the simple desire for a new start which drove a quarter million humans and Wafans to the stars on cerulean wings.

Into what must have felt like the deepest, coldest and most inhospitable reaches of space they flew, waiting, always waiting. Until one day they could see... See the New Horizon of the garden paradise spread out before them like the Promised Land.

And for a time, it was a promised land. After the sturdy vessel, the Icarus, sat down upon the surface and was dismantled to create their new homes, the landing was followed by an unprecedented period of tranquility, growth and peace.

After an all too brief period of sweet innocent bliss, the nightmares everyone thought had been left behind on Earth floated to the surface of their tranquil dream. Bigotry, and hatred rose to the surface of several Wafan minds, and the word 'Animus' rose to everyone lips. And all at once, it seemed, the innocent dream was shattered.

The drums of war were sounded, and it seemed the prosperity would continue, even in the absence of the innocence that had been so cruelly stolen away. The Animus were easily beaten back, and humanity safeguarded. It was a task that while unpleasant, was almost too easy.

Eventually, it was decided that a whole new race of Wafan, designed not only to defeat their opponents, but to safeguard humanity as a whole needed to be created. These Wafans were called the Osmosis Types.

These angels of mercy were able to remotely interact with the DNA strings of other Wafan, and coax accurate confession from them, as well as safely disposing of infected DNA strings by taking them into themselves, and dissolving it within their own, empowering themselves in the process, so the loss of life for even the enemies of mankind would not be in vain.

But even though these angels of mercy were initially successful, their own wings, as waxen as everyone else's, soon dissolved. Succumbing to the very madness of their opponents, they became the thing they feared most. Soon, it seemed, paradise would be lost.

Chapter 1: The Foolish

The Silverback-class Carrier jostled heavily, as the heavily armored bulk bounced across the plains at eighty miles per hour, bouncing roughly, jostling its occupants roughly. Most of them didn't notice, except for the youngest and most inexperienced soldier.

Within, a young, red headed Wafan slouched over in his seat, leaned forward, and huddled as small as he could possibly make himself. All around him, his fellow Malevolent Hunters bellowed, and guffawed. His name was Hubart, and he was starting to wonder if this wasn't all just some big mistake. He wasn't a fighter, he was a tradesman.

He lifted his head slightly, his large soulful green eyes lazily drunk in the almost surreal sights around him. The interior of the craft was almost completely dark, save for the vertically aligned rows of slits along the side of the vehicle, which did nothing to keep out the dust and grit of the plains. Although he was sure his fellow riders didn't see it, they lived in fast-time, like almost every other Wafan on New Horizon.

He gripped the haft of his axe tightly, as he observed each and every mote of dust more then a hundred microns in size, so desperate was his urge to keep his mind off of the imminent battle by pushing his sensory input to the limit. So far, it was working.

Abruptly the loud hollow tang of gunfire, along with the hollow zing of energy weapons fire against the hull, snapped him out of his reverie.

The hoots, hollers and screams intensified as the Silverback slammed into a heavy object, and the front door exploded outward, smashing through a wall, and energy fire immediately erupted into the heart of the vessel, answered by return fire from the raiding team.

"Give them hell!" Bellowed the freshly Sergeant in charge of the raid, an imposing animaloid, named the Hellcry Lional. Every single gun was trained on the exit, and a veritable hellfire of mixed artillery battered the crumbling wall, and the structures that lay beyond the haze of dust and shrapnel. Screams told the young soldier they were chewing up the Animus defenders. But too his eyes, it was all in slow motion, like a perverted ballet.

"Move out!" The Lional bellowed, sweeping a massive paw. "Go, go, go!" At once, all but one soldier darted for the exit, uniformly slipping through, while firing, avoiding the enemy fire as best they could - but still, two or three Grim Stalkers fell as they went through the gap.

The recruit was frozen in terror, his advanced processing computing the probabilities of his survival, again and again. The probability grew lower with each second.

"Hubart!" Bellowed the Lional. "You have three seconds left to be afraid with, you horrible little man! After that, you're going to fight, or you're going to get left here to die!"

Hubart snapped to. "Sarge!" He bawled,. He still trembled. "If we go out there, we're going to die!" His eyes flicked back and forth between the carnage outside, and his sergeant.

"You'll be a lot more likely to die if you stay here, red." The sergeant said, with no trace of irony, or even anger. "But if you'd rather die cowering in this tin can, than die fighting like a man, than so be it." The Lional dropped to all fours, it's glittering, razor mane retracting towards his head, and then ducking and charging through the doorway, with a roar that shook Hubart to his Damascus-alloyed bones.

Why am I here?! He demanded of himself. Just what did I think I was proving to my father? I'm no fighter. All I am is a spoiled political brat. Hubart's hand wrung his axe haft tightly.

His father, Rumnist, the consummate scientist, the one who always knew the right thing to do, and say, who told Hubart his place was in a lab developing the technological foundation of the future. As more and more shots ricocheted off the hull of the Silverback and the fighting outside intensified, Hubart squeezed his eyes shut tightly, his mammoth thought processes turned not towards his own mortality, but the words of his father, that rung so hollow in his own ears.

The future lies with us, my boy. Fighting men on either side of any war are irrelevant, small-minded beings that were born only to die. Why try to ease their suffering, when most of them were so small minded the world is made a better place with them gone? He had scoffed.

Part of Hubart had believed the words of Rumnist. But his father's disdain for the non-intellectual seemed appalling to Hubart. Why must others lives mean nothing, simply because they weren't the same sort of people? A single bullet penetrated the hull of the Silverback, and lazily burrowed a path through the dusty air, sending the molecules into an erratic dance in its wake until it buried itself in the seat across from him.

Hubart was snapped from his introspection, as a second bullet came through the wall, close at hand, and nearly grazed his head. That's when his fear turned to blind panic. Hubart bolted for the door, axe clutched tightly in his fist. His feet chewed up the distance between him and the door with the sort of frantic motion that could be brought on only by fear.

Hubart leapt through the door, and his first thoughts upon landing weren't for his comrades, but for his own survival. His thoughts of escape were drawn up short, as the butt of a rifle was smashed into the back of his head so hard his main processor skipped, and the world temporarily went blank. When his consciousness resumed, the ground was rushing up to meet him.

Hubart tried to scream, but a foot slammed down on his head, skipping his processor again, and he was kicked in the ribs, knocking him over. Stunned by his first experience with intense pain, Hubart stared slack jawed at the sickly green and gleaming gold Core Stealer soldier above him, wielding a sparking metal prod.

"If only they were all this easy." The Core Stealer sneered, his mouth masochistic rictus, his eyes invisible behind his blood red visor. He plunged the prod into Hubart chest, sending an EMP charge that would have fried an APC through his body.

Hubarts entire world was pain, for the next five seconds. For Hubart, though, it was nearly an eternity before a blissful silent darkness took him away from his suffering.

Chapter 2: On Pain of Death

Hubarts systems came back to life, with a slow tingling that spread out form the Core of his being with an agonizing slowness. One by one, his artificial nervous systems nodes reported to him in detail that he was in excruciating pain.

Hubart opened his eyes, and moaned pitifully. He was in a darkened room, the subject of several spotlights.

"Good morning." A voice said brightly. As Hubarts optics focused on the darkly handsome man before him, his head was knocked halfway sideways by a violent backhand, wrenching him sideways, restraints pulling at his wrists roughly. Hubart, to his credit, was in enough pain already he didn't cry out, though he did grunt in surprise and discomfort. "I have a few questions for you." The Core Stealer said, squeezing his knuckles with his free hands, making sure they were still properly set.

"I'm not telling you anything!" Hubart said, suddenly struggling against his restraints, as much in fear as in anger. "Let me go, you Core Stealer scum! Do you have any idea who I am?!" The words were simply coming on their own, even in his slow time, his thoughts were disorganized and terrified.

The Core Stealer leaned closer, and slammed his fist against Hubarts throat, smashing it against the wall behind him, making him gag. "I think you should know, we Osmosis Types such as myself don't like being called Core Stealers." He emphasized the offensive word by slamming his fist into Hubart stomach, brutalizing the sensitive equipment stored there.

Hubart gagged, retching up displaced hydraulic fluid, the rusty red liquid spilling over his lips. The Core Stealer wove his fingers into Hubarts hair, and slammed his head against the wall behind him, abrading the artificial scalp. "And as for who you are, I don't give a damn; you're going to answer my questions, or I'm going to disconnect your limb one at a time, and make you watch as I dismantle them and feed them to the fueno."

Hubart coughed, spattering the Core Stealer with blood. "But I don't know anything!" He wailed. "I don't know anything, I'm just a volunteer!" He was backhanded again for his trouble, the restraints tearing the artificial skin beneath his gloves.

"I'm not interested in information that will turn the tide of the war, you damned fool." The Core Stealer Hissed, leaning close and pressing his body against Hubart in an intimidating fashion. His disturbing pale red eyes were barely an inch away from Hubarts own green eyes.

Hubart rambled like a coward, as his own eyes drunk in the Core Stealers. Deep in the red eyes, he could see the tiny lined pathways hidden in the iris of his eyes. The pathways pulsed with a dull light as the wretched creature stared into Hubarts soul, filling him with dread.

Hubart was helpless; the Core Stealer had him completely at his mercy. Were he a mere observer in the situation at hand, he might have reflected on the irony of the situation. He'd joined the Malevolent Hunters 17th Supplemental Unit to prove that fighting men weren't useless, by becoming one himself. Now he was falling prey to the very enemy the Colony had united itself against.

When Animus first began to appear, Wafans suffering from some strange new disease, the Malevolent Hunters were re-founded, and a new generation of fighting Wafan were designed.

In their infinite wisdom, the colonists decided the best way of preventing the spread of tainted DNA strings was to create Wafan who could dispose of the DNA strings, and improve their own abilities at the same time. Not even thinking about the ghoulish ramifications of such a twisted form of subsistence as devouring others to empower oneself, or the mindset it would engender.

The Osmosis Types grew stronger and stronger as time passed, surpassing even the Earthly Veterans, even the most hardened Animus were ground to dust beneath their feet. They were not just effective killing machines, they were able to emotionally detach themselves from their horrible acts. As such, when the disease mutated, and even they were taken, the result was the most ruthless army history had even known.

Obsessed with power, their leader, the Wafan known as Faust, proclaimed himself the leader of their new nation, Nifelheim, the kingdom of souls. Mad with the power he obtained, he decreed that all low class Wafan were too great a danger to the world, and had to be devoured for the safety of mankind and other advanced model Wafan, blissfully unaware he had become the thing he was created to destroy.

"Now tell me," the Core Stealer purred, almost aristocratically. "Tell me everything about your unit."

Helpless before those eyes, Hubart began to speak, though not of his own will. A Core Stealers eyes could actually compel the truth from most individuals. Hubart was ashamed, but he couldn't resist. He told the Core Stealer everything it wanted to know.

concept art by Eriance

concept art by Eriance