A short story (Somewhat inspired by MrNature's.)

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    In the final, dark days of the Terran Republic, waging war after war after war to survive the hostile Xeno threat, and it was unknown that other races, were battling to save them aswell. The Xeno threat, a advanced bioform that could absorb and merge into any creature, was impending on Terra herself, With the Andromeda system having fallen, and with it, the last bastion that the Terran Republic had. Terra's days were numbered, three, to her percise.

    This is the story of a group of surviviors.

    Of one of the few that escaped to the waiting galaxy.

    This is their story.

    Chapter One: Born of Steel, forged in Brimstone.

    Taryn stormed out of a recently breached section of the TRN Artemis, a small defense warship at over 78m long. She flopped into a chair, never having time to remove much but her hardsuit helmet and gas mask, having been working since the ship saw action against bioforms over Luna, her heterochromic eyes, one a light platinium color, and the other a deep purple, settling on the reactor monitoring computer, studying the readout as she did. . Taryn reached for her pocket, pulling out a flask of a exotic drink, downing a swig and grimacing at the bitter taste, barely of legal drinking age in the TR.

    What she saw next made her choke and toss the flask down, slamming down the contact button on her headset.
    "Engineering to Bridge, reactor is overloading, we have ten...No..shit! Evac the ship, there isn't any time!"

    Those were her last words as the ship's reactor went supercritical, destorying most of the engineering section, sending debries flying, a chunk of shrapnel the size of a small golfball hit her in the forehead, cracking her skull and knocking her unconcious, and another small peice percing her throat, robbing her of speech for the rest of her life.

    The last thing she felt before she blacked out was the warm, wet sensation of blood trickling over her shoulders, pooling under her neck.



    A figure pulled her to a pod, the image blurry and darkening as the slipped into unconciousness..



    Ch1, Part 2.

    Taryn woke up, squinting as a bright light blinded her un-adjusted eyes, there was a...odd sensation in her throat, and she felt the sudden need to breath, and tried to choke down a gasp, only to be rewarded with a searing pain shooting down her body, causing her immense discomfort, aswell as finding out she couldn't vocalize, most likely due to the tube in her throat.

    Taryn looks to the side, blinking as her eyes come into focus, three figures sitting near her bed.

    The crew that had taken her in and become her family.

    Katherine, Jase, Serinia, and Rose.

    Jase looked up. noticing she was awake, immediately coming to her side and grasping her hand in a vauge attempt to comfort her.
    "Guys, she's awake."
    His voice is quiet, as if scared it would hurt her if he was any louder.

    Her bed was instantly crowded around by the others, looking down at her as she searched for answers.

    "Taryn..They thought you'd die..they said you'd...never speak again."
    Taryn's face pales immensely, a sense of dread and panic coming over her as she does, closing her eyes for a second to contain her panic.

    "Look, Taryn, you need to rest...you're still baddly injured. It's been two months since the incident."

    Taryn nods solemly, closing her eyes and passing out again soundlessly, most likely due to the insane amount of painkillers she was having injected into her via IV.

    Jase, Serinia, and Katherine exited her room, boarding a small taxi pod docked to the medical station.

    "Take us to the Greasy Dog."
    The Greasy Dog was a well known pub around the massive station complex which made up Neia, a massive complex of station remants, junk, and space hulks that were salvaged and used by engineering crews alike to create a safe haven for themselves, and others.

    "Twenty credits."
    Jase reaches into his pocket, digging around for some credits, coming up with the twenty or so credits and depositing them into a small slot, soon zipping off to the Greasy Dog, where they had..."aquired" a small ship.
    It was hardly a ship.

    The small shuttle had the words "Arcimedies" painted on in crude lettering, and horrible spelling, but nonetheless, it was theirs.

    The Archimedes was a small junker shuttle, a five seater model which was around two decades and a half old.
    Jase settles into a chair, sighing and pulling out a cheap cigar.
    "Kat, Serina, Rose, we've got plans to make."

    To be continued in Chapter Two.