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Ian Davion - Golden Lion (Chapter Art)

Ian Davion, Golden Lion[]

Epilogue, Part 2[]

03/17/3045 - Location: Mars, Sol - COMSTAR Protectorate

Delta I Demi-Precentor Stavros Lambda had plenty of time to adjust to martian gravity on the gravdeck of the Dante-Class Frigate, CSV Discord. One of the few operational Warships in the Inner Sphere although it was mostly an armed carrier for the Valkyrie Corps, formerly known as the White Wings, as few other vessels could endure even its small capital armament. Still if it came down to it the Great White Fleet was formidable, and it would need to be.

Although in Photon's mind it was more of a flotilla or squadron with only four Warships and another under construction, all Dantes, around Titan as well as a few armed Q-ships for irregular operations. Nevertheless he was confident that if Primus Waterly gave the order they could take Task Force Argo, the Wolf's Dragoons Fleet salvaged from wherever they came, now undergoing some kind of secret operation around Galax according to ROM.

One of his escorting Adepts peered out the window. “You can almost breath the air at lower elevations now thanks to the terraforming. Isn't that amazing.”

He looked out from the skywalk to see black and purple lichen spread out as far as the eye could see. “It's no small feat that's for sure. I would expect nothing else if one were to cover the red planet in black ink for almost four hundred years.”

“It has been very profitable, sir. Blake be praised that most of DoME survived. It would have been a shame to lose such a long term project. To say nothing of all the facilities left behind after the Amaris Crisis.”

To emphasize the point a King Crab and its smaller Kin kept to a narrow path free of lichen between Cosara's factory and the Starport. On the other side a train ran along a pink piste loaded with packaged vehicles and cargo cars from Mars' formidable industries which nearly equally Terra in volume though not complexity.

Delta Prime under Stavros made their way to the maglev station, waiting for a group of hooded COMGUARDs shouldering Mauser 960s to exit. His Demi-Company boarded the dusty train and took the assigned seats. The machine raced along the track toward a grim edifice carved into solid basalt by automated machines.

“Do you know anything about the Prophet, Demi-Precentor?”

“I never heard of him. I presume it is a him at least, until I received our orders aboard the Discord. I thought the buck stopped with Waterly.”

“Maybe he's some kind of consultant, like an oracle from legend.”

“No one can predict the future with any certainty. There are too many variables.”

“If any organization can do it, it's COMSTAR.”

Stavros drifted off as the train accelerated above the plain on electromagnetic currents. As it decelerated he came to and was prepared when they arrived at the station to see armed men, not COMSTAR uniforms. Instead they wore red armor, black helmets, and no insignia. A less threatening group, including a beautifully exotic woman in a sleek jumpsuit, appeared shortly after to guide them through 'The Temple.'

This woman, who introduced herself as Dyma Sobral, dismissed the rest of his command staff. They had been selected to participate in a weapons research program while on Mars and had to undergo a briefing beforehand.

“Demi-Precentor Brett, please follow me.”

Photon's face betrayed nothing. “The Prophet knows everything. You did not think he would not know you. He has selected you personally.”

“For what?”

“Illumination.” she told him

“If that was joke I'm not laughing.” he responded

She stopped to eye him and he noticed some things that were off about her. Dyma, although a waif of a woman, had a number of subtle implanted cybernetics and he was immediately wary, giving himself space to draw his pistol.

“Last chance before I bring you to him. Bodily if I must.

You have no options other than drawing the gun on yourself. Though I doubt even that will work. The Prophet has survived worse and found wisdom in his suffering.

He sought to give it to you, without the suffering. Unless that is the only way of course.”

“I think I'll take my chances in the dark.”

“Wrong answer.”

Photon dropped to the floor avoided a roundhouse kick to free his Hawk Eagle pistol from its holster. He rolled up and Dyma moved incredibly fast grappling him as he let off a three round burst at close range into her stomach. The case-less rounds had no effect on the cyborg who proceeded to grab his right hand, crushing it with strength beyond any she should naturally posses, until the pistol clattered to the floor and Photon grunted in pain.

Still he managed to free his hand sweeping a leg up to execute a flying arm bar that dragged her to the floor. Photon strained on the offending arm trying to break her shoulder and retrieve his pistol.

With the extra weight and leverage he heard a crack and muffled cry of pain. Immediately he rolled away to where it skittered bringing the gun up to fire at her.

She too rolled delivering a crushing ax kick to his chest that winded him. With smooth fast motions she secured the weapon and wrapped her legs around his neck.

“You are very non-compliant, Photon Brett.” she told him.

His voice was weak as she applied more pressure, making him see stars. “It's my nature. Blame, Therese. She left a lot of rebel in me.”

“I don't know why the Prophet chose you, but I have been ordered to bring you before him. I give you the option to walk there.”

Photon's vision narrowed as the blood choke took effect. “or I can drag you.”

“I'll walk.” He choose

Dyma released the choke and Photon rose to his knees in a coughing fit. The cyborg used her left hand to pop her right arm back into position with a crack and quick exhale. Photon's Hawk Eagle was tucked into the now un-zippered waistband of her jumpsuit. “I don't care whether you are looking at me or the Eagle, you won't get either.”

He rose to his feet and turned around. “I didn't think I would be okay with that, but my mind has changed. I'll stick with flesh and blood, Farah.”

The pair continued the lonely walk to increasingly shadowed hallways lit only with red light. “You couldn't get some full spectrum lights in here.”

“Not all of us are as comely as myself. We all see fine in it, unlike you frails.”

“I've been called a lot of things, but frail was never one of them.”

“Be quiet. We are almost there.” she instructed him

A set of metal doors stood before them, each opened in series until they let out into a darkened void faintly illuminated above by a white orb. As Photon's eyes cleared it was a model of the Solar System writ large with a mechanism moving the planet's in their proper alignments.

“Prophet, I have brought you Photon Brett as ordered.”

The room filled with a synthesized voice one Photon was not able to pinpoint. “Was there any trouble?”

“Nothing I couldn't handle.” she told the Prophet

“Good, now give him his pistol and leave us.” he instructed

She had the pistol pointed toward Photon. “But Prophet. He might be a threat.”

“He had his chance already. Do as I ask child.”

Dyma removed the magazine and worked the action to clear the chambered round before flipping it to extend the grip toward Photon. “He didn't say it had to be loaded.”

As the door closed Photon heard cloth rustle in the darkness as a decrepit looking man appeared at the edge of his sight. “So you're the mighty Prophet I heard about?

What do you mean I had a chance already? I don't know who you are?”

A faint sound of servos filled the space between them as the decrepit man stood tall and uncovered himself. Beneath the hood was pale skin, gray myomer, and brilliant chrome that caught the light of the sun above. “Oh, but you do nephew.”


Thomas Marik walked up to Photon who had gone shocking white, as if seeing a ghost.

“In the flesh, as it were.” Thomas Marik told his nephew

This concludes of Ian Davion, Golden Lion

  • Note from the Author: I will have other stories in this universe for sure but am going to start The Other War back up again in the meantime. Was thinking a Chaos Campaign.
    "Of Warring States and Black Dragons."

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