A Cold Dish -(R)

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Steve Ronin
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Post by Steve Ronin » Sat May 05, 2012 1:34 pm

interesting...
I like it.
just sometimes I get a bit lost in the reading....
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REPLY to RONIN'S RAMBLINGS HERE

Rayo Azul
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Post by Rayo Azul » Mon May 07, 2012 9:39 am

Steve Ronin wrote:interesting...
I like it.
just sometimes I get a bit lost in the reading....
Thank you Sir! :D

This one has been floating around waiting to be finished for a while. I am only happy up to Chapter Twenty-Four and after that I'm not sure :oops:

It meshes in with historial events from SDIV and that is still ongoing. I will continue to post SDIV on my blog and if you like parts of A Cold Dish here.

However, if no-one else is reading, I could just send it to you :lol:

Cheers

Rayo

Rayo Azul
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Re: A Cold Dish -(R)

Post by Rayo Azul » Tue Sep 24, 2013 9:11 am

Chapter Seventeen

Close Orbit
Nueva Esperanza
Second Church Protectorate


Fold Space protested as Hammer Of Faith’s huge bulk squeezed back into reality. The Attack Carrier had been built for two purposes; to instil fear and deliver retribution. It was fit for both of them.

Where Tauran ships followed the manic designsof their demonic architects, Hammer Of Faith was built in the Protectorate’s image. Stately, imposing and yet with a stark clarity of mission; no-one could mistake the iron-hard will and faith contained within. From its broad prow to its flared stern, it mirrored the Prelate’s own spear of office. Whorled patterns wrapped its body; metallic statues depicted the Great One’s life, whilst inlaid prayers sparkled in bas-relief. Cylindrical protrusions dotted its main body; rail guns, missile launchers, plasma batteries and point lasers. This though was only part of the Hammer’s arsenal. Shock troops packed its innards, as did armour and attack craft. They obeyed their leaders to the letter of the law, and The Order was a stern and rigid master.

“Ready the ship,” said the Captain, as he watched the Senior Brother enter the bridge.

“Aye, Aye, Sir,” chimed his XO, head down to avoid notice.

“Release drones and begin the attack,” continued the Captain. He listened as his orders were repeated, then nodded at the expected reply.

“…Drones and attack craft away…”

Nueva Esperanza was being reminded of the Church’s long arm, chastisement would soon follow.



Caledonia City
Sierra Blanca
Nueva Esperanza
Second Church Protectorate



Robert McBride raised his glass to the mirror, allowing himself a grin of satisfaction. His stupid son was still in the dark as to his real ploan, and that would do nicely. Parental feelings had long ebbed away and James provided the ideal scapegoat for his father’s plans. It was a shame about Javi Venta, the man had been a real asset. Once the Church found what they were looking for, McBride was convinced that things would soon be back to nomal, with one exception. The whole world would be his for the taking.

“Nothing, Sir,” said McManus, entering the room after announcing his presence with a discrete cough.

“Nothing? Nothing at all?”

McBride began to feel worried; the Church had, up until now, been solicitous, and their change in attitude could only mean one thing.

“McManus,” snapped McBride, his self-indulgence evaporating rapidly.

“Sir?”

“Call out the men. I believe that we are about to receive unwanted guests.”

*

Early morning fog clung tenaciously to the pockmarked exterior of the Cathedral. Even the hardiest of petitioners knew better than to venture onto the streets this fine morning. It made Juan’s task easier; any other body within the confines of the building would be an enemy. He grinned. This was like old times, and then his smile vanished relaced by a smiling rictus, as he remembered why he was here. Muffled footsteps sounded close by and he melted into the shadows, waiting.

“McBride never volunteers himself for these jobs,” muttered the first soldier, his rifle held loosely in his hands.

“Now there’s a surprise,” relied his companion, who drew heavily on his smoke, and then flicked the butt into the surrounding gloom.

“S**t!” he cursed, fumbling for his pistol, as the burning stub bounced back towards him.

“What…?”

There was no time for anything else, as the serrated whip coiled around the second man’s throat, spinning him round in a welter of blood as the barbed tips were pulled back. The first soldier had his pistol free now, but the spray of fluid obscured his target. He fired anyway.

“Fool…” the cold voice whispered in his ear, “now you know why McBride sends his lackeys…dying is so much easier when you con’t have to do it yourself!”

A gurgle and the sound of a body hitting the ground was the only reply. Juan moved on.

*

“What do we have?” asked James McBride as he sidled into the control centre.

“Nothing.”

“Excuse me?” his anger now apparent in his voice.

“Nothing, Sir!” snarled his subordinate, tired of both the long night and his once powerful master.

“No, not that, idiot,” replied McBride, ignoring the insulting tone in his concern, “How can we have nothing, when they were told to report in regularly?”

The Technician gulped and tried again, “It’s like this, Sir, everyone reported in thirty minutes ago, and since then nothing.”

“When is their next check-in?” asked McBride, unable to rid himself of his fear.

“More or less now, Sir”, replied the Technician.

“Call them, now!”

McBride felt cold sweat prickle between his shoulder blades. Thirty minutes! El Angel could already be here.