The Crossover Effect. [Closed. FT]

[Dead Snow]

Act One;
Milky Way Galaxy;
Beta Quadrant;
Prosperan Star System;

The tendrils of the Aether had always whipped their way around the ‘real’ plane of existence, silently; invisible to most, caressing most life forms in one way or another. Some plagued with physical ailments, cancerous mutations and devastating epidemics laying waste to the galaxy at large.

Aesthear Cherry was no different. She was named after the very same, after all. It had been almost a century since she unified the old Dead Snow Star Empire, a once powerful machine within the Milky Way at large. She had touched hands with some of the most powerful Empires, peacefully and particularly unfriendly at one time.

Aesthear had brought peace to the double suns and her slew of rocks and gas that made up Dead Snow, but it had cost her dearly. She remained locked with her palace, the Immaterial Plane holding her, finding her. The Empire had not fallen back into nothingness though, not this time as many had neglected the peoples for other ventures. Aesthear’s right hand, Havelock had always diligently ensured the Empires survival in the endless wastes of the Galaxy. He now chaired the Council. He now had to propose something insane.

“There’s no way I’m listening to that crazy bitch, Rheydyn. Have you too lost your mind to pandora?” Thalr’s tone was of indifference, not anger. “We send her into the Aether, how about that for a solution?” He heavily emphasised ‘her’, this wasn’t the first time he had nurtured this idea.

Rheydyn sat apposite Thalr, an ornate wooden table lay between them. The crevices of the gothic architecture which ordained the Great Hall’s riverstone walls, thousands of years of work went into these carved walls. It depicted gargoyles of every grimaced visage, every twisted torn face of the Aether screaming out of the walls; yet it was silent. Rheydyn had long since lost the use of his vocals. He stared back at Thalr, there was no mistake in the look in his eyes. No. He knew Aesthear for a long time, side by side they had watched the Galaxy go by. But something did indeed have her. He knew it. Thalr knew it. The gargoyles knew it, their eyes watching events transpire; waiting. For it was coming. Their eyes of terror will see everything.

“Nevermind, apparently our allies need some assistance. Some sort of sun coming to attack Talos Station.” Thalr was always itching to get back behind the helm of a Dreadnought, his hand twitched in excitement.
“Seems we have these new Carriers, horrible design, but they are walking factories. Hopefully these new dronecraft will be of use. Was always a shame sending poor men out in tin cans with a pellet gun.” A wry smile drew its way across his face, he did have a fondness for death.
“I’ll see you on the other side, or not.” His footsteps as he walked out the hall, rang through the Great hall; cut silent by the creak of the huge doors as they opened as if by themselves. The air whispered out; then back in as the doors closed seamlessly shut.


Thalr’s chance was now. He had seen the wyrm with his own eyes, his withered face had seen it all. She was a terrible beast and she was coming for the entire galaxy. He smiled as he imagined the Galaxy burning, for it was a bloated corrupt place. Cancerous, some have described it as.

It was only a fledgling idea, but it had worked. A small rip in space and time itself, the blue and red swirling storm was held in stasis on the dead world of Frehjl. Locked away within the Tomb for the Dead, the storm was growing. Feeding on the increasing chaos within the Aether. It had torn its way entirely into another Galaxy. A strange place the likes of Dead Snow has seen. For now.

---

Act Two;
Frehjl, The Dead World;
Prosperan Star System;
Milky Way Galaxy;

The weeks that followed the Naval Militarium’s depature from the system had dragged on. The general populace had continued about their daily lives, unknowing of the trauma and sadness to follow.

Rheydyn’s mind had wandered since the debate within the Great Hall, Thalr’s ignorance of him and the situation playing out in their hands had infuriated him intensely. His escape to Frehjl had not gone unnoticed; Havelock’s personal ship sat silently in orbit around Frehjl. The aging and decrepit old Plauge Class Cruiser had seen many a war, its hull cratered and pocketed from years of combat. Much of the beautiful architecture had broken off and weathered away, centuries of hand carved gargoyles, arches and ornate flowers had been lost to the ether.

Havelock’s eyebrow raised in curiosity as a massive energy spike was registered across the system, originating from The Dead World. He pondered over the viewing panels, mere portholes within the thick creaking walls; the out dated adamantium honeycomb construction showing their age.

He gazed out over the planet’s surface, the snow white surface curving off into oblivion. The blue tinge drew his attention, as the planets weak atmosphere entropied and corroded. A sudden crack, as blue and red storm lightening lashed out from the lone gargantuan structure; blowing riverstone miles across the barren planet.

“Get us the fuck out of here.” The panic in Havelock’s voice apparent, although the Cruiser was unmanned beyond him. His words fell upon the empty stations and bounced off the nooks and crannies around the Bridge. Havelock raised his mechanical hand, servos whirring and pistons whooshing as he waved his hand over the controls. The Aether had served Dead Snow well and served Havelock even better. Pulsations in the air around the control panels of the archaic Cruiser initiated the Cruisers propulsion engines.
The low hum vibrated throughout the gothic ship, perpetuating from the Engine Stocks down to the Bridge. The blue glow of the engines pushing the huge ship further and further out of orbit; as jagged crevices and cracks jutted out from the structure, its use long since lost to Dead Snow. Tectonics had long since ceased activity on this rocky ball, but the old plates started breaking up once again. The pure energy of the Aether had ripped through the Material Boundary.

The Plauge Class Cruiser meandered away from the Planet, as a chaotic vortex engulfed the planet; sucking it through the newly created void in space and time. A tempestuous Aether Storm vomited out, the swirling pain and sadness warping Real Space into mutations and visions of itself. Havelock watched in amazement as Frehjl disappeared in front of his eyes. He stared out into the Aether, a portal to the end of the universe, he saw ‘her’.
It’s long snaking body slinked out the Aether Storm, disguised by another projection of energy whipping its way around the System. The populace surely stared up into the sky as tendrils of the Aether caressed, feeling the biological material within this plane of existence.

She had arrived and she had the hunger. It had been many a millennium since she had last tasted biological material, this new age of space travel has plated a countless number of species for her to investigate.

-Intermission-

The Aether was another realm of existence, sitting side by side to the ‘real’ plane; almost on top of one another. The Aether fed upon the pain and sadness of reality, turning it into a tempestuous ocean of energy. It corroded and corrupted itself into a swirling storm. It had taken Dead Snow centuries to break open its face and stare into her secrets, eventually leading to the creation of Faster than Light speeds. The Aether made Dead Snow, and the Aether will destroy Dead Snow.
The thin curtain that separated the two had never been ruptured permanently, until now. The pandora wyrm had coalesced within the Aether, a formation of pure anger and sadness. She fed on lost souls within the Other Realm, gorging and growing. Her long tendrils routed out from the gaseous bulbous body, many a rupture and lesion spewing spores into the Aether from deep within her.

She had searched since her first days of existence of a tangible form, reaching out to every corner of The Aether. She was looking for the weak and sick. The one’s on their deathbeds and the ones with muzzles in their mouths. She gorged on these emotions, growing ever larger. By the time Dead Snow had ripped through to the Other Realm she had grown to over 300 feet long, her grasping tendrils making up most of this gargantuan frame.

This unstable portal between Realms had attracted her, an escape from the ocean of sadness. She had grown tired of feeding on energy and yearned for flesh. Within minutes of the void spewing out into the Milky Way Galaxy she had arrived, slipping out into The Prosperan Star System.

Her devouring shall begin…

[Dead Snow]

The Crossover Effect; Part Three.

In the weeks that followed The Great Rift, as the event had become known, a dark gloom had befallen the Prosperan System. The double sun’s glow had even diminished somewhat, bathing the planets in a dim cerise glow. This was the beginning of a new era of Dead Snow; it was also the beginning of the end for Dead Snow.

The Great Rift was a swirling maelstrom of radiation and energy, constantly pumping out hideous and decaying waves of foul spore swarms. Aesthear, the planet closest to The Rift, had borne the brunt of the ‘dust’. The entire planet had been quarantined, shut down and blacklisted to the rest of the system. A debilitating, mysterious plague had infiltrated the populace. It was far reaching and indiscriminate. It engulfed the planet quickly, before it had even been identified. By the time it had, with its genome mapped; it was too late. It was like nothing The Prosperans had seen before.

The closest it could be described was like a parasitic virus. They infiltrated the hosts system quickly, with means unseen by even the most travelled scientist, multiplying extremely rapidly. Once the ‘Colonisation Phase’ has concluded, the virus would shut down the hosts motor systems; paralysing them entirely – The Paralysis Phase. There had been no fatalities, yet. It was a heavily speculated and accepted final phase; The Death Phase. However, all infected patients have remained with a baseline level of electrical activity. Consciousness was dubious at best. The virus had been named Azhukali, after an archaic disease of Earth’s Cardamom plant.

Further from The Rift, the ‘dust’ had started to spread and dissipate into the very membrane of the galaxy. Thalr, further from The Rift, had escaped any great affliction – any signs were swiftly ‘eradicated’. Mass refugee camps had been erected to house the influx of ‘healthy’ Prosperans; for some strange reason a small percentage seemed to be immune to the ‘dust’.

Society had crumbled around Prospero, now the stronghold of research into ‘dust’. Thalr was seen to become the frontline and prime real estate for field experiments. Vast structures had been constructed to house ‘patients’, as they had commonly become known. Fortunately the Council has remained fairly unscathed as it sits, bloated, on Prospero. It could be described as a plague in its own right. A complete shutdown of what society was left had ring fenced the healthy populace on Prospero and Thalr, the latter mainly comprised of refugees, scientists, officials and the military.

The Rift itself had been scanned, repeatedly; and had ingested many thousands of SAR Drones. The peculiar thing about this was that these drones were still sending scrambled signals back, and not ones from inside the Aether. Their signature was, exotic. Larger drones had now been scheduled to enter The Rift, their more advanced sensors and relays were hopeful to return more reliable data…