damascus

Lord General Lee Osaka Damascus was ruthless. Hated by his contemporaries, he got all of the credit for ending the first war against the Canids and kept his nose well above the stench of other Lord Generals. He was also the only reason his race didn't suffer the same fate as the original inhabitants of Agri1. At the start of that conflict, the humans were on the brink of total extinction; the enemy were infiltrating the No Orbit Zone, had outmaneuvered humanity's best pilots and were reaching deeper into the Milky Way. But, like a savior, Damascus had shown up and thrown caution - and traditional tactics with it - to the wind. After 5 generations of peace, this man led humanity into war.

Early on, he captured a full squadron of beasties. He gleaned valuable information from them, breaking their minds in the process. They became known as Damascus's Dogs -- used against their own race, they were forced to fight for the Lord General's cause. Anti-propaganda, fear tactics, promises of power: they were all tools utilized to keep the DD in working order. However, Damascus had a secret weapon: when asked how he did it by the Planetary Magistrate, he noted, "Seize chips go a long way." The defense sector was stunned. More powerful than shock collars, the seizure-inducing chip could be implanted under the skin, unnoticed, and controlled remotely. It was rogue technology, black listed, illegal. Knowledge of the DD was kept to a bare minimal - the public remained in the dark. So, when Damascus killed his own men to make the Dogs look like they were working for their original cause, the public - as well as the enemy - were none the wiser. According to a report published by The Canid Ministry of Defense before they were absolved of power, "The 515th squadron has gone above and beyond all previous hopes. As a team, they are without equal. Each man utilizes the most extreme force and, without fail, comes back with more human deaths than we could have hoped. They are the terrors of human children. These men are the things of nightmares, with no eyes except for the war. Single-handedly, they are winning this conflict."

Within the next 6 months, the 515th squadron were being awarded medals for incalcuable valor. They dressed in their best, went to meet their Supreme Emporer and, as the Ace shook his hand, they murdered him in cold blood.

Damascus had kept his fleet out of reach, just beyond the largest moon. In the ensuing chaos, he moved in, took over the planet, and forced everyone into Packing Ships. He sent them -- all of them: men, women and children -- to the sun. Every living member of the race that humans came to know as the beasties died at the hand of Lord General Damascus.

Now, 30 years later, he stood at the bridge of "Light Destroyer," surveying the carnage as it played out on 12 holo screens before him; surveying his empire. 35 years of war had hardened his character; the terrors of deep space tempered his resolve. He looked on with a smile on his face. It was good to be king.

Of course, that wasn't his official title. He still answered to the Conglomerate of Corporations and Congress, but, without him, they would have all died a long time ago. Even as things currently stood, he might still kill them and take over. Chuckling to himself at the thought, he gripped the railing of the bridge until the tightened skin over his knuckles turned white. One day. One day.

----

In the middle of a corn field, there are no shadows. The boy crouched low, stalking his prey. He had been out here for over an hour, bent over low, countless scratches criss-crossing his arms and face. Sweat trickled down his brow and he let it slide down the slope of his nose, accumulate, and then drop to the floor below. In his left hand, he held a blade as long as his hand, its hilt weighted and wrapped so as to cut down on blisters. Only 11, he had it as long as he could remember. Somehow, over the course of his stay on Terra 1, he'd managed to keep the pigsticker a secret. If he were caught with it, he would lose layers of skin and be forced to work well past dark.

To his right, he heard his prey break cover and begin moving again. Centering himself and keeping his breath stable, the boy kept low and walked in the larger prints left before him, careful not to alert the ringbeast. He began gaining ground, occassionally sniffing the air for track or stopping to listen. The ringbeasts were intelligent, but the boy always found a way to keep his scent hidden, eventually ending upwind of them, circling them in, ending in a war of attrition.

He knew that part was coming soon - the war - and he reveled in it. These horned pig-like beasts - they had been the bane of his young existence, thrashing about in the corn fields, killing children, shrinking profit. And if there was any one thing his magisterate could not tolerate, it was a shrinking profit. He could always find more Warphans, the way the Lord Generals commanded the armies these days. Careful not to let his thoughts get the best of him, the boy continued circling, tighter and tigher, until he was nearly on top of the ringbeast. He caught sight of it then and became only slightly alarmed; it was larger than the rest of the beasts he had previously killed and its 6 horns were all blood bolted, dark and shining.

Slinging the blade overhead, he let it fly, end over end, slicing through the air until it found its mark. The boy's aim was true - the blade embedded itself deep into the gut of the beast and it howled and thrashed. Jumping out of the way and onto the back of the ringbeast, the boy took hold of the ringbeasts' horns like handlebars and, pulling his blade from its gorey side, he continued the assault, repeatedly stabbing it until the blood flowed and the beast fell snout forward, sliding on its front legs.