by Dark Knight
Too little too late.
He heard one of the closest comms officers whispering – “Look at this coward!” – to the officer sitting in the next bridge command pit. Soon most of the bridge personnel, all of them junior hires, were not-so-secretly snickering, pointing their fingers at him. Nedal angrily inhaled and promised to himself, that IF he could ever get out of this shitty situation, all of them would suffer a most unfortunate string of deadly accidents.
Then they all saw how the enemy ship rapidly turned its back toward the devastating attack, and was soon to be flanked by the hidden TA wing. The enemy ship’s PD battery unleashed another devastating flack burst that cornered one of the TA wings forcing them to close formation. That crescent soon turned into an unwilling sphere. A clustered sphere. And before Omasa could scream his orders over the comms, that ship launched a swarm of rockets.
Taz’aran heavy torps weren’t of the best design, though they perfectly served the purpose that their engineers had designed them to. Their main warhead type was a funnel charge device, and it began generating plasma from the very moment those ordinances left their launch tubes.
The stored plasma was then walled with forcefields while the torps flew towards their targets, following their pre-programmed navigation routes. It was something that almost all of the aliens who used torpedoes did. All except the merciless Terrans, who even had the gall to stuff thermonuclear warheads in their torps. Because screw you, your starships’ systems, and your entire crew.
This time the rockets, essentially nothing else but dumbfire projectiles with fast engines, accurately hit all but two of the taz’aran torps. They were too sporting plasma warheads and those caused a chain reaction, an explosion shining with the force of a small sun. The second flight of TA’s only managed to evade all of this, because their newly promoted group leader had already faced the treacherous Terrans.
Omasa watched the “lightshow” and almost ripped the comms console installed on that command chair of his. A couple of seconds later and six fully armed TA’s were completely engulfed by a cloud of expanding plasma and evaporating debris. Thankfully his second, and last wing, reinforced by what other spare mecha he had in the hangar, continued moving on his enemy’s flank.
He noticed his wimpy XO shaking beside the command chair, but ignored the man completely – Omasa needed more evidence of his cowardice and failure to perform during battle. The more Nedal faltered, the better.
“Main batteries, their weaker aft shields are exposed – fire all particle guns now!” – as he watched how his officers were aiming Omasa shouted another quick command – “Navigation pit, give me rapid course correction at once! Prepare evasive maneuvers on my order!” – he seemed preoccupied with thought but immediately after the bright red beams left the bores of his main battery the Lord Captain shouted – “Evade now!”
’Empress Throne’ slid to the side with her “cover” still floating around, captured by the excess gravity from her plating, got immediately shot to pieces by a well aimed railgun barrage. Omasa’s quick thinking had spared him the direct shield damage but those debris now turned shrapnel still hit his bow shield:
“Frontal shield emitter loss at nine percent Lord Captain!” – reported the Chief engineering officer with his cybernetically linked with the command pit head. All engineers had those “nerv-gears” now, as it became almost customary to have them if you wanted to get an assignment on board of one of the bigger ships.
“Move us forwards navigator, we need to reach our secondary prepared position! Main guns shoot another volley before the ship turns her ass away from us! Sensors, report on our target’s damages!”
“Lord captain, we... we’ve hit their aft shields square in the middle! No damage my Lord! Their shield emitter is of highly modified design and probably was overcharged, because all of our beams were deflected!” – panic was beginning to sneak into the voice of his scanner specialist. Omasa didn’t like it.
“Get a hold of yourselves, All of you! This is our moment of triumph and there is no time for childish panic attacks!” – he quickly shouted, piercing all bridge officers with his intimidating gaze. At this moment another barrage slid over and across his port shields, violently shaking their starship.
“Main battery, return fire! Aim at their port shields, they are turning into us to escape the flanking TA’s! Navigation, flank speed forward. Quickly, before they can fully turn!”
His enemy was falling right into the well prepared, clever trap. Their captain acted exactly as they should, and followed the typical ballsy Colonial Navy doctrine – when falling into a trap, break through it, and with all force available! Omasa’s lips twitched – too easy, way too easy that was! His counterpart probably had an ace up their sleeve or a contingency plan. Those filthy Terrans always did! He suddenly shouted:
“Navigation, delay that order and keep our distance! Sensors give me targeting solution for their main engine assembly; main armory, fire another torpedo barrage when target lock is achieved!”
“Group leader, pull your force and pounce at the enemy! Push at their flank hard and press them towards us!” – Omasa wanted to spare his remaining mecha but... they were still cannon fodder, albeit of a different type.
“At once your Lordship! We will overload his PD battery and try to wipe some of their main railguns for you!” – he heard his newly promoted TA commander scream back enthusiastically. His voice sounded somewhat strange but Omasa quickly forgot about this, as the burden of command was all his to bear.
From this range they could see exactly what was happening – another railgun barrage shredded his secondary cover, smaller debris splashing all over his frontal shields. Omasa suddenly came to a frightening realization – it was his enemy, not him, using the terrain to their advantage! The sneaky Terrans didn’t have to hit ’Empress Throne’ proper; only the larger debris, and with him preparing all of those cover positions to withstand long range fire, made things even easier for his enemy. From the get go Omasa was stepping on his own toes! Suddenly, and frustrated to no end, he angrily blinked and then screamed new orders:
“Armory, launch those torps now! Engineering, I want you to remotely pilot them and unleash the plasma at close range. Their port shield is your target, and be extra careful of our mecha!”
His ship suddenly shuddered from one, this time accurate railgun hit; Omasa noted with an ever-increasing anger that the seemingly tiny compared to his own starship vessel, had double the weapon complement one could expect of its size.
“Frontal shield emitter loss at thirty one percent, Lord Captain! Shall I relocate reserve power to compensate, My Lord?” – the calm and emotionless voice of the chief engineer returned some of Omasa’s concentration back and he smiled. They had probably three times the power generation capacity of that pathetic, little ship! The battle will be theirs in the end.
“Engineering, pull all the reserve power you need and continuously reinforce our bow shields! Main guns, I want you to overcharge those beam capacitors and fire the second those torps weaken their shields! Navigation, move us away from those debris, we require their protection no longer. Close up and keep distance in optimal particle-beam firing range using our vector thrust. Bow shields toward the enemy, always! Engineering you can draw power from aft, port and rear shield emitters too.” – he stood up and grabbed his captain’s cloak with one hand, clenched fist in the air – “We got the obnoxious Terran filth exactly where we want them! They will soon regret the decision to face us head on. Onwards to glory, my followers – Yours and our Empire’s!”
The long hull of ’Empress Throne’ slowly moved away from her debris cover and towards the enemy. With shields glistening, absorbing volley after volley from their enemies railgun battery, the mighty taz’aran warship launched her torpedoes, main gun capacitors overcharging and heatsinks tasked to the utmost design spec limits.
It was a Predator – mouth open and teeth bared, ready to swallow its prey whole...
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Awesome left the hangar again and humming yet another of his now all time favorite band “Brilliant Space Senshi” songs – this time a piece called “There is No Safety in Numbers”, and with engine set on full power, broke right through the middle of the taz’aran mecha formation. Alice’s holo was this time dressed as an ancient female warrior and held a bow with both hands. Tiny holo arrows flew from it, marking target after target as she provided multiple lock on assist.
Contrary to what the taz’arans may have thought, Awesome’s ordinance pod was capable of fielding many different and wonderful exploding things. The leading mecha he recognized instantly – it was the ambush leader who managed to sneak away from him. The hamster smiled, activated his comms, and sent a link in a effort to gather more joke material – he was a dutiful member of his race after all:
“Helooo, tazzies! It is me, Awesome! Your new, very best, and most probably last dancing partner! You should know that this wide and overly spread formation of yours is no good. No, no! How can we unsafely play together with your mechies flying so far away from each other?” – he looked at Alice and as she fired the last holo-arrow, Awesome continued – “But don’t you despair for a second! Awesome is here to provide quality dea... erm, I meant dancing arrangements for all of you!”
Not expecting anyone to return his link, the hamster was nevertheless happy to receive any comeback banter. Not that the taz’arans were known for their creative or witty comebacks, as he was soon about to find out:
“Defective Terran filth! You, and all of your stinking client friends will become fertilizer for our gardens!”
“But, but... Awesome can’t possibly stink because he IS clean. Hamsters always take sonic baths every day! Regularly. And what is that unhealthy infatuation of your people with excrement? Do you like... umm... hamster droppings that much? Because I can package and send some to your homeworld – I just need an address.”
He of course heard only incoherent, vile cussing, instead of a proper witty answer. Awesome sighed and swiftly turned his starfighter launching all of his already locked on missiles. He and Alice had decided to deal with the flanking force of mecha on their own, because they were pushing Starshatter towards that scary looking taz’aran frigate’s guns.
Awesome had another surprise in store for them, but it wasn’t time for his deadly punchline to be delivered, yet. He chuckled as the frame of ’Insanity’ shook from the force of twelve, long range “Piranha” missiles being launched all at the same time. The taz’arans made the mistake of firing their own missiles at him and not Starshatter. He continued his mad turn around, as he seemingly rotated at random, shooting each of the taz’aran missiles with his auto-railgun.
His startled playmates decided to evade. Poor, poor tazzies. You can’t run away from those long range exploding fishies. On top of their sensor lock the “Piranha” missiles were each fitted with one top of the line visual scanner, and actually followed their individual target’s hull or other features. Took twice the time to lock-on but it was double the fun! His missiles tracked and tracked, and... tracked. Being the smart hamster that he was, Awesome went the extra hamster-mile and personally modified the missiles. All of them had extended fuel tanks. Laughing and seemingly entertained to no end, he chased after the closest machine that was probably his playmate’s wingman. The one he melted its legs off.
The taz’arans were desperately trying to evade but almost all missiles found their targets. From the last TA wing, reinforced as it was, only four machines were left and all concentrated their fire on that lone Terran.
“Did anyone said melting time?” – Awesome chuckled over the open comms link and punched the controls of his starfighter turning and then flying “backwards” toward the TA. Dodged all desperate shots from that ineptly crafted laser rifle of hers.
From inspecting the “prototype” that he snagged before, Awesome knew its cyclic rate of fire. Well, he knew everything and anything about that joke of engineering. How and why those taz’arans decided to follow in his most glorious and ultra intelligent Patrons’ steps was beyond clear. They wanted to emulate their betters, and of course had failed most spectacularly. They obviously were not progressive, and were stuck in their old ways. Stuck? Well, that was something he could easily use as a punchline.
As his fighter reached almost point-blank range, Awesome turned the afterburner on... and changed course aiming the laser at the closest machine. The one behind the plasma exhaust melted and then exploded increasing his speed a tad bit. Alice was rolling all over his side controls – she was laughing uncontrollably, her legs kicking the air and hands slapping all over the dashboard:
“Creator! I can imagine that tazzie’s face! ’It’s melting time!’ he says! Ahahahaha!” With his AI rolling over the dashboard laughing, Awesome took the third mecha left head on and fired the laser. Somehow he and his target hit each other at the same time, because the taz’aran was also aiming and instead of a laser rifle fired a missile from his RPG. It exploded almost shredding his left wing short-circuiting ’Insanity’s’ shields. In his mouth the hamster tasted blood but disregarded the pain and damage that his ship had sustained. That dance was way too much fun and those punchlines were simply popping in his head – he was on a roll!
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The newly promoted TA group leader forgot all commands and instructions – everything that his teachers had taught him in the Academy suddenly became utterly and completely useless! In the short span of an hour, the pilot had lost virtually all of his peers. The classmates that he used to argue, and viciously fight over every Academy reward, every honor. Dead. Those pilots were all killed off as if they were nothing, by that malevolent rodent! He lost it completely after seeing the wingman that he managed to drag out of the combat and somehow miraculously save the life of, get instantly and effortlessly slagged by the hamster. Those small Terrans were monsters! He was now hell bent on destroying at least that abominable rodent!
The last taz’aran mecha pilot switched his TA’s system safety locks off and pushed his machine way beyond the top of its accepted tolerance levels. The mecha flew towards his hated enemy basically with engines melting, her pilot’s blood vessels rupturing and cabin pod filling with ripped, molten pieces of control equipment.
He shot the RPG’s last missile almost point blank and then grabbed the laser rifle, aiming with what was left of his sanity. Its overcharged beam this time hitting his target’s frame exactly where he wanted, almost slicing one of the wings clean off the fuselage, missile exploding near and shredding most of the cockpit. Still flying with engines on overdrive, the taz’aran group leader discarded the rifle and stretched his mecha arms, fists hitting the enemy starfighter.
Something exploded behind him and the pilot’s cabin depressurized instantly. With reddish gaze the taz’aran looked around and saw a hole as big as his torso, directly before him.
The fact that he was burning meant nothing – his adversary had to die!
Grabbing the red hot mecha controls, he aimed his TA’s left arm and tried to crush the starfighter’s cockpit, while his machine’s other hand was still grappling its hull. The rodent unleashed again a barrage of projectiles streaming from his fighter’s auto-railgun but the angle of attack favored his mecha.
Then again some of the shots shredded one of the legs of his machine and through the pain and blood he managed to see the reactor core overload alarm blinking. The taz’aran reached for his ejection controls, while almost on slow motion before him the TA’s clenched fist was swinging.
It swiped and squarely hit the cockpit crushing its canopy and then... then he saw him.
Floating outside of his ship, the vile rodent was holding one ridiculously big for his size rifle, its barrel aimed at his head! One happily waved and pressed the trigger of his weapon, while the other, scream
ing, punched his ejection seat button.
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Awesome’s ship was too damaged for him to continue fighting, but he, despite the injuries suffered was happy. Using only her navigational thrusters, ’Insanity’ almost crashed inside of Starshatter’s hangar, screeching over the floor-plating and leaving pieces of itself all over. It didn’t explode however, and Awesome shook his tiny fists in the air squeaking one word – “Victory!”
He then moaned in his intra-link:
“Erm... cough... I think... cough... some medical assistance might be... required Doc.”
“You maniac! You could’ve killed us both!” – Alice shouted at him, whose holo was all bruised and beat up, with cast leg, bandaged head. She used a wooden crutch to keep her standing up.
“Got to... gimme... those holo-scripts... some day soon... ugrh...” – Awesome tried to point at his AI friend but his body refused to obey.
“Huh? Wh... y is my... cough... hand... not mov...” – and his mind suddenly was no longer there.
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The hamster awoke in a wet, warm hole in the ground, that smelled of walnuts and turned around. It was the dream that all hamsters spoke of, the famed “near death” experience. But was it that near? Death wasn’t something that the average hamster thought of, if at all.
Awesome wasn’t sure exactly what was happening and while he inspected his surroundings carefully, his gaze focused at something close – the gentle figure of a female hamster, her golden fur glistening in the lights... That was most strange as there weren’t any strong light sources to be seen around. Awesome, in true hamster tradition reached for a walnut first, and then touched the girl’s fur squeaking playfully:
“Sooo, when are you and I goin’ to the heavenly fluff?” – he asked, while chewing on the large piece of walnut, stuffing another inside his mouth for later. The female hamster swiftly turned and after looking at her smiling face, Awesome, also as swiftly as he could (but most probably swifter), bolted away in the opposite direction. Hands full of walnuts, spilling between his tiny fingers while he trotted down the closest tunnel.
