Titan Cocijo's demise - Logbook Entry 56:
18 Dec 2024Jordan Walke
Date: 17 December 3309Location: Sol System, Low Earth Orbit
Ship: Darth Malak | Python Mk II
Commander: Jordan Walke
Gunner: Commander Jota Alpha
LOG ENTRY:
This is Commander Jordan Walke of the Darth Malak. It’s been nearly three hours since the final blow was struck, and I’m still processing what just happened. Cocijo—the last of the Thargoid Titans—is no more. It’s a moment for the history books, they’ll say, but from the cockpit, it was a mix of chaos, fire, and… something close to awe.
Jota Alpha and I arrived in orbit with no illusions of grandeur. Earth hung beneath us, serene, oblivious to the war’s climax just above. Cocijo loomed like a living nightmare. Its towering organic spires stretched out into the void, a massive silhouette backlit by Sol’s soft glow. I don’t know if it was defiance or desperation, but the Titan threw everything it had at us—waves of interceptors, swarming like wasps out of a burning hive.
Jota was on the gunner controls, calm as ever. His voice crackled through the comms:
“Shields are holding for now, Jordan. Another swarm coming in hot, though. You want fancy or precise?”
“Both. Always both,” I shot back, pulling Darth Malak into a roll that skimmed the surface of Cocijo’s hull.
The Python Mk II took a beating—some burns across the aft plating, and one of our rear thrusters started venting plasma. Didn’t matter. I trusted Jota to watch our six while I flew us straight at the Titan’s core. When Cocijo opened up its defensive barriers to launch more thargon swarms, that was our moment.
Jota unleashed hell. The turreted beams blazed like furious suns, burning through the interceptor clusters. I swear, for a second, it felt like time slowed. Cocijo’s core—a pulsing amber void—began to destabilize.
“That’s it! Core rupture imminent!” Jota’s voice broke through the tension.
We pulled out hard, the ship vibrating under the strain as the Python Mk II climbed for open space. I pushed the thrusters to max burn, hoping the Darth Malak could outrun what was coming. I looked back over my shoulder just in time to see it—Cocijo’s meltdown.
The Titan’s core ignited in a brilliant, orange-gold fury. A wave of energy erupted outward, rolling through space like a silent storm. Organic tendrils and hull fragments burst apart, pulled into the vacuum. The light was blinding—like the birth of a new star, except this was a death. Cocijo, the last great Thargoid menace, was gone.
From our distance, Earth’s atmosphere shimmered faintly, as if mourning the war’s terrible cost. It felt… quiet. Too quiet after everything we’ve seen.
Jota broke the silence first:
“Well… guess that’s that. Drinks are on you this time, Commander.”
I laughed, but it came out hollow. There’s an emptiness in victory like this—standing in the aftermath of a war that nearly destroyed us all. Cocijo’s death marks the end of the Thargoid Titans, but the scars they left behind will stretch across generations.
I brought the Darth Malak into a slow orbit around Earth, letting the ship cool down. Below us, the cradle of humanity shone blue and vibrant—a stark contrast to the destruction we just witnessed.
“We’re still here, Jota,” I murmured.
“Yeah, Jordan. We’re still here,” he replied, quieter this time.
And for the first time in years, I think we actually believe it.
End Log.
CMDR Jordan Walke | Darth Malak Python Mk II