CHAPTER 3

  Dean gazed at the nearest window, not particularly focusing on anything. The inverted warped environment repelled them at velocity. Yet he couldn't help letting the thoughts go, toying with the idea to return to prove England's might. Not one to back down, swiftly hitting the comm buttons he hailed the bridge. “Helm take us back.” The officer was bewildered by his request, considering their stance once they left. Nevertheless, keying coordinates in the navigation computer, "Course set" the helm replied through comms.

  Blakes expression shifted, confused at the motion. “Helm, delay that order.” It dawned on him.

  “Surely the captain doesn't mean to go back? He thought to himself.”

  The captain, noticing the course hasn’t changed. “Helm… that was an order.” he insisted. “But sir, the Commander delayed it.” “Override.” Dean declared in a thorough manner.

  Again, Vanity decelerated, out of velocity, dead ahead the planet faced north, with Vanity’s rays armed once more, the same ships appeared in the same fashion as previously. The commanding officer hailed. “Cap- sir? What are- “

  Dean made his way to the craft bay fully prepared to prove the English have a backbone. “You have the bridge, Commander while I'm away. Keep the reflectors up, don't fire until I give the order.” Blake was hesitant but acknowledged otherwise. Via the viewpoint the craft could be seen entering the planet’s orbit.

  The captain approaches the atmosphere following his descent towards the world below. Now with the primitive village in direct view. What stood out to him was what appeared to be an imitation of a stone structured strong-hold one that was often maintained in the medieval era. The captain landed on the outskirts of the stone Castle, its entrance under a moat.

  Dean exited the shuttlecraft as he was met with resistance, many humanoids whose shaped figures soon emerged marching in the captain's direction. To his surprise they appeared to resemble human-like physiques; the body's structure was far too slender, tall, and aesthetically off putting, attempting to mimic humanity's image, but not how God would have desired. On closer inspection their clothing very blatantly matched that of fantasy, fairytale, magicians, alike. Pausing, disgusted by what lay out in front of him, the captain seeks the beings’ attention.

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  “I demand an audience with your leader." His stance holds an authoritarian weight to his posture as the captain barges with his request. One of the figures steps forth their lips quivered, lisping its speech. “Hoomon you barge through our gate with such bold requests to speak. We are aware of this science your species consider absolute. Ourselves do not wish to... unite ties under such a crude race.”

  Dean’s gaze sharpens looking back at the medieval castle grounds that the species consider home. Grunting he activates comms, giving orders to fire a low yielding torpedo. He retaliates. "Refusal is unacceptable, our empire offers you an accord." Without hesitation the torpedo is shot arcing below with rapid delivery. Aimed for the stronghold. Stone is no match for such power. A proud smirk lines Dean's face, making his statement “Humanity too is not afraid of bloodshed; we too, moreover, are powerful, hold witness to our strength of the English Empire.”

  The figures crowded, paused, hyper focused on the mass unfolding before them. Meters turning into inches, the torpedo races descending approaching the stone structure, the many lives below at its mercy. The reflective light blaring, igniting a bright flare covering the entire inner village, spontaneously the torpedo ceases mid-flight. A pleased smirk casted on the uncanny figures faces, leaving Dean concerned about his judgement he ordered.

  Seemingly by an invisible barrier that cannot be perceived by the naked eye, the once threatening ball of mass now gyrates in place. Then rising at an immense rate, accelerating, the photon advances away, towards the atmosphere projecting the exact same course it was previously launched from. Homing in on the Vanity. Yet with an even more swiftly.

  Blake’s eyes widen in response, erratically as he reacted, witnessing the impending horror. The slingshot effect. Responding without delay, “Deflectors! Move to port! BRACE!” Any action ended up being futile, for that very moment making the orders useless.

  The direct impact of mass proportion and explosive substantial major damage suffered to the front of the exterior plaiting, leaving large metallic dents and debris to fling into outer space, scorch marks across the plating. The vessel shook with a fierce crash. In the interior of the bridge Consoles exploded. simultaneously Its crew flung instantaneously off balance resulting in brutal slams against the walls and floors, wires hung hissing from the ceiling, casting sparks, the wooden floors nails hurled unloose throughout the bridge. Paintings wrecked as they fell tearIng at their seams, ornaments crashed in style cracked, chucked about. The fellow Commander fleetingly attempted to pull himself out of the dazed state, onto his feet hurrying to exchange comms with the captain.

  Back on the planet below. That man most definitely felt his own repercussions of his actions. Expressing utter anguish on his face. The crowd mockingly laughed in absolutes, the leader inserting himself repelling the captain's statement. “We mimic Hoomons, hoomons mimic history. Captain dedicated to war.” Dean turned to the figures, reacting on instinct and out of pity. If anything could be said about the ordeal, it didn't leave his lips. Taking his anger out on the nearest bystander, immediately firing volumetric shots with his weapon. A small bubble deflected around the mage as he attempted to flick damage, but his shots were futile.

  He roared, refusing to believe what he witnessed. "Impossible, it cannot be. Your village should be in rubble... NOT MY SHIP!" The sorcerers did not interfere as the captain left the planet-side only to continue mocking the captain as he returned unscathed physically, but emotionally scarred.