Story:The Best of the Best

Myth Galaxy Universe This article exists only within the Myth Galaxy setting.

The Best of the Best
Main author(s)	User:Krayfish, User:Nra 'Vadumee, User:SupcommMonroee
Timeline	2142 AD
Story arcs	Dark Prophecy story arc
Wordcount	{{{words}}}

The Best of the Best is the first story of the Dark Prophecy story arc.

Prologue

The tale you’re about to hear does not come from our world. Instead, it originates elsewhere. Somewhere else in the Omniverse - collectively everything that exists, has existed and will exist. Unseen worlds lie outside the reality which we live, existing in realms far beyond our own imagination. Each of these alternative worlds lined in an array spawned from our decisions, our thoughts, our creativity. Omni 01 is one of those universes, similar to, but different from ours, where humanity plays only a small role in a greater galactic community. Together, the mortals of across the stars formed their own rich history of their own - one with many battles fought over resources and legends lost within the mists of time.

But the galaxy was not always a melting pot of ideas. The Harbingers. The race that controlled the fate of all organic life. The race whose existence was mandated by the Titans themselves. The race that had kept order among the mortals and quelled the chaos. They are dead. Mortalkind had triumphed, banding together to take destiny into their own hands. Yet, the triumph over this foe did not mean a time of peace. Without the tyrannical rule of the Harbingers, chaos ran rampant.

Four galactic superpowers of the Milky Way Galaxy created an alliance known as the Galactic Senate. More than armadas and fleets were needed. They would need a team of elite soldiers: the Galactic Senate Special Operations Corps or GSSOC. Heroes to fight against the chaos and defend the Senate. This team would complete missions that no one else would be able to do. They were the best of the best.

The superpowers had set out to find capable warriors to be a part of this team - the ones that would change the universe forever. This is their story...

Chapter 1: The Colonel

A gasp filled the air.

It was a quick one, a sharp one. The kind one releases when they are gripped by fear.

A tall, winged dragonoid figure stood at the center of the room, which had windows showing off the vast expanse of space before them. It was he who released this gasp, and he was already digging into his black, smooth leather uniform for something. He was searching frantically, his eyes, grey where a human's is white, and yellow in the iris, were wide open and almost bulging out from their sockets. His arm was inside of his flowing jacket, which was black, shining leather, reached to his waist in the front, and flapped down to his knees in the back. His fingers fumbled about the numerous pockets within this jacket, desperately trying to find the object which the figure so direly needed.

He suddenly let loose a gag-like noise, and fell to one knee. His hand moved faster now.

Where is it? Where did I put it? Come on, come on...

He switched over to the other side of his jacket, and tried there. His mind was clouding with visions, and his vision was starting to contract. The hallucinations were not far behind, to be sure.

Nocturne, Nightbringer, Lord of Stars, Reagent Angel, please, please, please...

He, at long last, found what he was searching for; a glass box which contained a syringe, filled with a clear fluid, and numerous needles. He opened the box, set it on the floor, and added a needle to the syringe. Taking little time for precision, he jabbed the needle into his neck, and squeezed the syringe until its contents were emptied into his bloodstream. Removing it, he held his hand over the puncture to keep the dark green blood from pushing his salvation back out. Within a few seconds, his vision returned to normal, and his thoughts returned to normal.

Standing back up, the figure panted lightly, refilled the syringe, placed the needle in a compartment in the box away from the clean ones, and put the box back in his jacket. He never could remember where he set the damned thing.

This being was Colonel Etah Owar, a Karnasaur. Karnasaurs were tall beings, standing eight feet high on average, with wings they fold onto their backs when not in use. These wings were large enough for sustained flight, but still required some height for takeoff. Unlike most life, they had evolved in a nitrogen-rich environment on their homeworld of Karnas, and thus were nitrogen-based in nature. As a result, their blood ran green with nitrogen to fuel their cells, rather than the typical oxygen and iron. To boot, they were also the longest standing civilization in the galaxy at the time, and were the most technologically advanced; The EIT and DFM would give anything for their technology cache, and the Eteno have offered everything for it. But Etah was a unique Karnasaur.

The average Karnasaur lived about a thousand standardized galactic years.

Etah was 5,000 years old.

Starting today.

In his 300s, early adulthood for a Karnasaur, the First Galactic War had him volunteering for the ELICAN Program, which produced supersoldiers which were immune to almost every form of death, including aging. Of course, this came at the price of a 98% mortality rate. Etah was one of ten to live. He was the last of ten to stay alive. Even though they were immune to bullets, blades, poisons, and age itself by the grace of genetic manipulation, they were still mortal. And they still died.

With almost five thousand years of military training and experience, not to mention ungodly physical conditioning, genetic manipulation, and cybernetic implanting, he was the KMF's finest agent, and as a member of the High Risk Operations and Training Division, or a HIRIOT, and an ELICAN, he answered to the Emperor, and only to the Emperor.

He heard the door open, and turned to see his lieutenant standing in the door.

"Colonel, we have new orders. Well, you do. You're to be put on loan to the Senate for use in a new elite team." The lieutenant explained.

"Is that so? What kind of team?" Etah inquired.

"They're calling it the 'Galactic Senate Special Operations Corp', and it's meant for high risk operations which concern the Senate States as a whole." Explained the lieutenant.

"Hmph. No wonder Clar has me off to help. Tell the helm to set course to Ilion for my new assignment. Hopefully the Dhragolon, Eteno and Delsons come up with agents worth my time."

Etah was known for his cynicism towards those who have yet to prove themselves to him.

"Right way, sir."

As the lieutenant left and the door shut itself, Etah felt the pocket with the glass box in it and sighed.

"That was too close... damned thing... can never keep it in one place. If I'm working with people again, I need to keep my dosages up to date. Can't have a breakdown on the field..."

Chapter 2: The Supersoldier

Kklxin. There were way too many of them. A race of extragalactic clones just as bad as the Harbingers seeking to establish a foothold in the galaxy by force. They lurked on every corner on the planet Getrik assaulting convoys and patrols alike. Special COIN units working with military police were, thus far, unable to put a dent into the remnant operations. At the very least, in the rare occurrences where the Kklxin brought out vehicles, they made them much larger targets.

Fighting them off were short yellow amphibians who called themselves the Eteno. One of them named Captain Tholker Zhevhyit dealt with these Kklxin directly. His briefings was little more than an exercise in patience. Since he'd been attached to the 6th Harbingerlands Corps, he was the chief of counter-insurgency operations for much of Getrik. At least, he was the unofficial chief. On paper, it was Lance General Dmitar Jokinen, but he had long since recognized Tholker's exceptional leadership skills, and granted him his own level of authority over the 9,223rd Military Police Division. Many of the majors and colonels objected, and it was no secret that Captain Zhevhyit extracted great amusement from the seething of his supposedly-superior officers. These objecting officers would go on a tirade about Captain Zhevhyit to anyone who would listen, but when put to it, they could formulate little more than a few petty misdemeanors as actual reasons that he was unsuitable for the position. Little did anyone know, Jokinen's golden boy would cease to be a frustration any longer.

Calmly and quietly, the planet's ISF attaché slipped into the room and tapped Tholker on the shoulder.

It was Sergeant Major Maximilian Friedhold Hans-Geert Schurhardt. Of course, everyone called him Max. Everyone who dealt with him was of a higher rank, but they almost always deferred to his wisdom. He'd spent nearly thirty years working in anti-terrorism, and could confidently predict the actions of any group you could possibly name, be they quasi-legal or full-on anarchist. He was a quiet man, and spoke slowly and with great eloquence. If he interrupted something, you knew it was important. That was why Colonel Gorka merely nodded at Max and ignored his silent poaching of Captain Zhevhyit.

"Max, I haven't seen anything of you for a while. I was afraid the mess hall made you yesterday's supper. It'd be a shame for them to save some money at the cost of my only friend's life, now," It was like Tholker to make jokes. Specifically, jokes aimed at Camp Blue's mess staff.

"I'm too old even for the mess to throw into a stew. But I have not extracted you to make idle chat. You've been selected, my friend."

Max ushered Tholker outside of the tent and into the muddy fields, where a shuttle sat with its engines on and passenger doors open. An emblem the officer was not familiar with was emblazoned in bold colour on each side of the hull.

"I don't recognize this. Off the radar, I assume?"

"As it would seem. I've been told to make sure nobody intercepts you on your way to Karnasaur territory."

"Karnasaurs, hmm? What do they want with me?"

"You are to join some sort of special forces unit. That is all I know."

The comfortable torrential rain soon came to a halt as the clouds parted yielding to the scorching sun.

"I do hope we'll be operating out of a beach resort, or something. I could do with a break from the sun."

"That's the only reason I will not suggest you for promotion to High General, my friend. But they need you moving as soon as possible, we really must embark."

"Whatever you say, Max."

Tholker casually boarded the shuttle, pulling Max in as he idly thought about what lay in wait for him.

Chapter 3: The Assassin

The Dhragolon - tall, blue humanoids with large ears whom according to legend descended from a great dragon older than their home planet. A people hardened by the iron fist of natural selection itself. A life without struggle was something they never knew. Their species had been torn apart to the core by other forces, yet they endured. But even they knew that they had to suppress their own violent nature. Dhragolon would spend every moment of their lives holding back their emotions, but of course, many would slip from time to time, and Ahrganot Skizgo was no exception.

There was only one concept that Ahrganot knew of: revenge. Back at the academy, one of his instructors Falan Rusit as well as his lost twin brother Kaden Wezga were found to be traitors to the Federal Monarchy. Both had tried to kill him, and why they did still remains a mystery to Ahrganot. At this point, he didn't care why. He just wanted both of them dead - a simple, primitive desire to kill that every Dhragolon held.

To him, driving a dagger into someone's head was a pain reliever, part of the reason he became an assassin in the first place. Yet, severing the heads of a few Kklxin was not enough to quell his vengeance. It only made him thirstier for blood. He was a dangerous man, but he could get the job done when he was asked.

"Churszath Master Ahrganot Skizgo, report to the bridge." Ahrganot put his datapad down and headed off to see what his Grandmaster wanted. After arriving, Ahrganot quickly saluted his superior.

"Master Ahrganot Skizgo, sir. What is my task?"

Grandmaster Zerif replied, "At ease, Master. I have a special assignment for you. The Galactic Senate is in need of the most elite soldiers of the galaxy . As you have demonstrated in your past experiences, I believe you are most qualified for these assignments. You will be heading to the colony of Ilion where you will meet with others undertaking the same assignments."

"What are the assignments?"

"I do not know myself, but when you get there, you will find out. All I was told is that these missions are for the best of the best and no ordinary soldier can do the job."

"You think I'm qualified now? "

"Why else would I have chosen you? The order was to choose the best of our people to represent the Monarchy. Your skills are admirable. You get the job done regardless of your own thoughts. The drive that compels you is...astonishing."

"...Thanks."

"No, thank you. It is an honor to have had you as part of the 11th Melee Subdivision."

"I'm leaving?" Ahrganot said.

Zerif replied, "Yes. You are under the orders of the Galactic Senate now. But you are and always will be a Churszath."

The trip was not terribly long. Moments after arriving, Ahrganot was escorted to a place simply known as the Bunker. Even though he still continued pondering his past, he focused on the task at hand: settling into the bunker that awaited.

Chapter 4: The Psionic

The Kalzira was in orbit above a gas giant moon with a scorched, rocky surface. Delse - a place uncomfortably hot to most species, but it was not devoid of life, far from it. The non-humanoid Delsons dwelled these sandy wastes, thriving in it. They appeared rather animalistic covered in all matter of spikes and being able to spit toxic saliva, but their personality was quite the opposite - each of them having the innate willingness to defend others who could not protect themselves. The best of the Delsons: Sol I Dor. Being blind would have likely get him turned down, but he commanded a powerful ship - the Kalzira. And he was a powerful psychic, using the energies of the air to see.

A human girl about in her early 20s came from the cargo area into the cockpit. With unusually large purple eyes, she was a human not from Gaea, but from a cosmic crucible known as Ashadra. While Ashadra today remains in ruins today, it was terraformed long ago for reasons unknown. Raised like a Delson, she would do anything to stop the Harvesters. She hated them. She loathed them. As passionate as she was, the Galactic Senate cared little for the fate of one race. In the Galactic Senate's eyes, humanity was just an insignificant people among millions of other sapient species.

"Galiana," Sol I Dor called. "I just got a message from the senator. I've been called."

"What is it, father?" she said.

"The Galactic Senate has picked me to be a part of some sort of team. A special ops unit of sorts."

"I see. Good luck then. Are you going to drop me off at Timari?"

Sol I Dor paused for a moment. "...No. Your training ought to be put to use. For too long, I've been fighting the Harvesters alone. I'm sure you want to fight them as well. Maybe even alongside the rest of this group."

"You really think you can convince the Galactic Senate that?" Galiana asked. "You think I'll be able to join?"

"I'm sure I'll be able to get some leverage," Sol I Dor said.

"I know the Delsons care about my kind. They want to protect us. But the other species, do they even care? I mean, the War on Gaea wasn't even fought for the sake of humanity."

"I heard about that," Sol I Dor replied. "Anyway, I suppose it is worth a try to go to the Senate Hall and talk to them. Let's set a course of Ilion. It will take at least a day to get there."

"A day?! How far away is this place?" Galiana exclaimed.

"The opposite side of the galaxy. I was going to swing by Delse to pick up some supplies."

"Alright then. Let's get going."

Chapter 5: Ilion

Ahrganot was the first to arrive. He found himself inside a lobby with a rather low ceiling, cramped but luxurious. He was meant to meet the rest of his teammates here. He took a seat on a nearby couch and waited. It was not long until Tholker had arrived.

"Oh, so you're a Dhragolon, huh?" Tholker asked.

"Yes," Ahrganot replied.

"Cool! Tholker Zhevhyit's my name, but just call me Tholker," he replied casually. "I'm a soldier."

"Ahrganot Skizgo. I'm an assassin specialized in stealth and reconnaissance."

"I haven't actually seen a Dhragolon up close. Before I was called over, I had always worked in the middle of Eteno space." Tholker had expected a response, but got nothing but awkward silence. "So...isn't it true that you guys use something like magic? Maj was it?"

"It's not magic. It’s something to do with quantum physics, but no one has truly figured it out how it works," Ahrganot said. "Even so, it's nothing too remarkable. Everyone of my people has that skill. To certain degrees of course."

"But it's still incredible, isn't it? I mean, in your smaller guns, like pistols, you don't even use ammo! That's crazy!"

"Crazy? I'm still surprised how your kind developed so quickly without the power of Maj," Ahrganot said.

"That's just our style. No tricks. No illusions. Just straight up take out the enemy."

"I skimmed over your report," Ahrganot said. "Is it true that you're a supersoldier?"

"If only,” Tholker said noticeably shifting his tone away from excitement. “I'm afraid that I'm so good that I've embarrassed my superior officers and they want to kill me by attaching me to a daring black ops team," Tholker chuckled. It was the first of many jokes, and one of the rare good ones.

Moments later, Etah had entered the bunker and took a somewhat impatient glance at Tholker and Ahrganot who had started engaged in some deep conversation about their militaries.

Etah called out, "The KMF Department of Intelligence is damned good at its job. I've read about both of you, Captain Tholker Zhevhyit and Master Ahrganot Skizgo. Tholker, a supersoldier, augmented by cybernetics implanted after an incident which damaged part of your body, the extent of which still eludes us," Etah crossed his arms, "Ahrganot, an exceptionally skilled stealth fighter, with no artificial augmentations, but rather natural skill and years of dedicated training." They both looked up to him - he stood much taller than the both of them.

"So, who are you then?" Tholker asked.

"Colonel Etah Owar, KMF Department of War, High Risk Operations and Training Division, or HIRIOT for short. Last surviving participant of the ELICAN supersoldier program. An honor to meet you both." The Colonel was less than tact; he had little patience for two aliens who would probably just end up getting replaced within a few weeks.

Ahrganot answered, "I heard about you. So you really are a supersoldier?"

"Correct," Etah replied, "The ELICAN Program was far more extensive then the program which saved your life, Captain. Physical conditioning, genetic rewrites, and cybernetic implants, the whole package. My conditioning makes me stronger, faster, and tougher than any other Karnasaur out there. The cybernetics allow further physical enhancement, along with a few tricks up my sleeve. My rewrites lend enhanced perception, greater physical enhancement still, and immortality."

Ahrganot replied, "Immortality? For a Karnasaur? I must confess, I am somewhat skeptical." Tholker was as surprised as he was disbelieving.

A brief feeling of regret passed by Etah. "Want me to prove it?"

The other two were intrigued. Tholker replied, "Sure."

Etah drew a pistol from his side and pointed it to his head. Both Ahrganot and Tholker had a quick look of apprehension. Then, Etah pulled the trigger. He stood still a moment, and, lowering the sidearm, reached up to where the bullet lodged. He pulled the squashed round out, and rubbed the impact site; Not even a scratch. Holding the round up for them to see, he dropped it on the floor and stared at the two aliens.

"Not the first time I've done that, you know."

Chapter 6: Last Arrivals

Moments later, Sol I Dor and Galiana had entered the room to greet them, the last members to arrive. Tholker's face cringed as he spotted the young human. She gave a puzzled, confused look back at him unsure what he was particularly annoyed about.

Sol I Dor recognized Ahrganot Skizgo as they had previously worked on a mission together when the Dhragolon made first contact with the Delsons. They nodded heads at each other.

"It's been a while, Sol I Dor," Ahrganot said. "Good to see you again."

"I couldn't be more grateful for what you did rescuing my daughter," Sol I Dor said. "It is an honor being able to work with you once more."

“Ah, good,” Etah said. “That’s everyone. We’ve got quite the diverse team, don’t we?”

"Who's that?" Tholker said.

"That's a Delson," Etah replied.

"No, no. The other thing." Tholker said pointing at Galiana. "Since when do we get humans in our ranks?"

"I have a name you know," Galiana said. "Galiana Arcad, adopted daughter of Sol I Dor Arcad."

Sol I Dor said. "The rest of us here has had decades of military experience. You, Colonel Etah, thousands of years. Galiana was chosen as an auxiliary member in training. One day, we’ll all have to be replaced."

"Some replacement..." Tholker said. "Can that scrawny thing hold a gun?"

"You watch your mouth, frog boy," Galiana said.

"That's enough you two!" Etah said. "The Senate does not make mistakes when choosing the best of the best. I’m sure all of us have reasons for being here."

"Sorry about that, Etah," Tholker replied.

"Alright, everyone," Etah said. "Now that we are all here, I want you to spend some time getting to know each other. These are your comrades, your teammates, the ones who will be working with you so long as this team persists. For now, you are dismissed."

Ahrganot said, "I'm going to explore this bunker a little while, and see what it has to offer."

Tholker replied, "Guess I should do the same. I ought to get myself familiar with this place." He turned to Galiana and gave a brief intimidating stare.

"Galiana, I'll be in the combat training room," Sol I Dor said.

The five of them took off in different directions checking out each of the rooms of the bunkers. Etah stood there silently not sure what to think of them. So much was already on his to-do list: choosing a mission and sorting out what to do with Galiana. He opened his datapad and looked at a long list of missions. There was one titled Operation Dragonslayer that piqued his curiosity.

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