Somewhere in the Andromeda Galaxy...


Chaos in the stars. Explosions and ribbons of lethal energy laced between the various ships, and star fighters darted about like insects against the backdrop of the titans that were raging against each other. One of the smaller cruisers attempted to power through the onslaught, but the crackling cacophony of energy that was its shields finally gave in and let the lacing bolts of death tear into the vessel's armor, piecing through the hull and shattering the bridge moments before the engines ruptured and raging flaming overwhelmed the craft.

A larger craft, its design showing it to be a dedicated battleship, attempted to turn away from the battle it was engaged in. A series of ballistic warheads launched from its opposite, slamming through weakened barrier fields and crashing into the armor plating intended to protect fragile hull. The massive explosions that tore out from the ship's side, one of which was undeniably thermonuclear, made that line of defense meaningless. It didn't take long for the battleship to be consumed in those explosions as its cores breached, and the crews had no way of stopping the inevitable.

And charging through this madness, firing off saffron rods of light that tore through the ships carrying the mark of the League, was the deep forest green vessel that inspired both terror and hope. The bow was marked by the massive stark white skull mounted as a face while blacken marks streaked outward from the gaping ‘eyesockets' of the death's head. Track mounted cannons turned and rotated about the ship as it deftly maneuvered through the raging battle, while distortions flickered whenever beams of laser fire neared the vessel, warping space and arcing the destructive energy away from the vessel. Atop its stern, where an old style galleon section had been expertly grafted into the design of the vessel, was a mast-pole, flying from it the black flag bearing skull and cross bones; the Jolly Roger.

That flag, more than anything, was what struck fear into those who had right to fear it, yet to those who knew its meaning, hope shined. And right now, in this theater of battle, with war raging about, the ship that was both feared and loved, the vessel that had crossed the Sea of Stars to this place from a distance point in the universe, was fighting for not its own life, but for those that stood against the ambitions of the League, and its hidden masters.

The vessel known now only as the Arcadia.

Within the bridge of the powerful and agile battleship, a man stood at the ancient relic helm as his crew manned all stations, bracing for the worst, but knowing their captain led them into the best. A black cloak and mantle sat upon his broad shoulders, capped by his dusky brown hair that reached down past his shoulders. His right eye was covered by a black leather eyepatch, but his left still gleamed golden amber as he intently focused his attentions on the warzone they had driven their way into with purpose. Upon his chest, embroidered into the heavy fabric of his uniform, was the white skull that matched the bow of his ship, and a wicked, yet elegant styled saber and blaster hung from his belt.

He was the man feared through the cosmos by tyrants even as those who dreamed of freedom loved him. Some called him cursed, others said he was blessed. To point, both were right. He had seen far too much, lived far longer than any person should have. But he could not escape who and what he was.

He was Harlock.

"League command ships are too heavily entrenched within their battle cruisers, Captain!"

His good eye turned a moment just before his hands tightened around the handles of the ancient helm, spinning it hard to send the ship turning just in time to avoid a barrage of emerald particle fire. "Project a course and tactical estimates for breaking their ranks! I want the Kel'dava out of action permanently! It's the only way to break their position here!"

Despite the protection of the intense wave motion fields that warped the multitudes of firepower away from them, the Arcadia shook with the impacts against those barriers. Powerful as the barriers were, the crew all knew their protection could only take so much before the fields too, like the lesser shields of the Intastella refugees or those of the League slavers, gave way. No vessel was invincible.

"Why the hell are we even here?!" That would be Yullian, questioning their motives, their purpose here. It was not unexpected as their captain had not given much information as to what they were seeking to accomplish by getting involved in the conflict all the way out in this galaxy. At least, he hadn't as of yet. "Captain, this is crazy! Taking on the Illumidas remnant or the Machine Men fleet is one thing, but we have no reason to be involved in this stuff!"

A growl, but not at his crew. Harlock threw the helm hard to starboard, barely taking the ship out of the path of a Federation vessel that had been torn apart from the assault and was now a field of debris. His eye glanced a moment to the brunette woman dressed in dark magenta and black who was barking orders across the bridge, a nod to her, and then his hands gripped the helm again and expertly steered the ship clear of the newly born wreckage.

"Prepare the main shock cannons and full ahead! I want that command ship out of this fight!"