by Dark Knight
“Done and done, captain!” – Starshatter suddenly and violently slid to its starboard side, with everyone’s heads and limbs shaking in their chairs and Brynjar’s engineering station controls screaming with disagreement. The ship actually performed a full barrel roll as humans called this reckless maneuver. Only fighter sized craft flew like this to evade incoming point defense fire. The taz’aran particle-beams glanced only partially off their port shields, overloading and short-circuiting their emitter.
Starshatter finally had sustained damage, yet their enemy was in for a big surprise. Making sure to keep that ace in the sleeve safe and well concealed, captain Anit’za had ordered Brynjar to replace the bulkheads surrounding their main laser cannon with such made of stealth composites. That ensured the weapon’s low sensor silhouette even when activated. And the ’Samosek’ wasn’t charged to full capacity during this battle, only the capacitor linked to it was.
The Dzenta’rii smirked, remembering Mr. Baranov’s boastful laughter and reassurance that his weapon can melt through Destroyer’s armor plating. He would put that to the test right now!
“Take the gloves off the ’Samosek’ laser cannon, gunnery officer Alric. As you can plainly see the enemy starship is overheating, and no longer able to effectively counter our attacks.”
Captain Anit’za was completely unphased by everything, it seemed, and as he glanced at his command chair’s tea machine, the dzenta’rii muttered something along the lines *I shouldn’t have drank that many cups of tea* before giving the order:
“You may fire when ready!”
Starshatter’s port side hull was ripped and molten, yet the armor had done its job properly. So did too the heavily modified by its chief engineer Brynjar shield arrays. From the side one could see their enemy – large, and imposingly mighty as they were, yet drifting almost in one place, with engines shut down and heatsink ports releasing red hot glow into the cold vastness of space.
Then a thick, dark-blue beam streaked from Starshatter’s bow hitting their enemy’s hull with a terrible force. One might even compare the beam’s shape with that of a sword’s long blade. There was an explosion. Pieces of taz’aran armored hull flew in all directions. Even if there were crewmen present where the powerful beam had hit, their bodies would instantly be reduced to molten metal and ash. The entire enemy starship’s hull shook again, as another explosion tore the lower bow decks apart – exactly where its torpedo armory was located.
Oh, it was still a predator still, but one with a toothless, shattered jaw.
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On the bridge of ’Empress Throne’ one of the sysops was shrieking madly, bashing his bloodied and cyber-wired head into the console before him. Foam coming out of his mouth, the specialist was no longer in command over his faculties, and any remotely observant person would instantly recognize why – his mind was hacked. The other one too was crying:
“The bot! Our own bot is attacking us! My Lord, we are hacked!”
Omasa, still sitting in his command throne, pulled his personal sidearm out and shot both of them, issuing new commands to his chief engineer immediately after their bodies hit the floor-plating:
“Give me a full damage report! And sever their entire EWS module from the mainframe this instant!”
With an almost emotionless voice his hardwired engineer stated the painfully obvious:
“Main shield arrays inoperable; Main drive system overheated; Main guns overheated; Forward torpedo bay destroyed and now open to space, Hull damage 33%, Bow armor plating completely lost...”
“My Lord, detecting one object closing towards our starboard side. IFF friend or foe system confirms that it is one of ours, a TA counted as MIA from the first engagement. What are your orders, Lord Captain?” – Omasa suddenly realized that the young female comms specialist had voluntarily taken his now dead scanning officer’s station. While he had reviewed her file earlier there weren’t any notes of that woman displaying such initiative before.
How brave.
As a passing thought, Omasa noted her for promotion and commendations later. If they survived. The very reality of him losing to some unknown and much weaker starship was beginning to slowly creep into his mind. Instead of falling into despair or spout nonsensical crap like some of those idiots that they watched holo-vids back at the academy command class, Omasa remained steadfast. Another Lord Captain in his place would be planning an escape right now.
“No, give me visual! Now officer!” – responding again with refreshing speed and ability, the specialist arranged a semi-working holo to appear on their bridge. Scanners showed one small, but quickly approaching object. It was too far away, and the image too grainy to positively discern what it was, and so Omasa hesitated for a few seconds. He would later remember this day many a time, and curse himself for that decision.
“Open fire with ALL available point defense turrets!”
The Terran ordinance crate flew even closer. Because that was a crate, and not some lost taz’aran mecha! Modified by Awesome, the metal box actually housed those four torps that Lilly managed to hack, at the start of the battle. Their warheads then reprogrammed by Alice, who took the taz’aran sysops own attack bot and used it against them, deceiving their starship’s IFF. If it wasn’t for that bunny’s strange, yet ingenious and nonstandard methods, that wouldn’t have been at all possible.
It got close, as close as it was programmed to try and then detonated itself. The four torpedo warheads charged, their conjoined plasma funnels expanded in the direction of ’Empress Throne’.
It almost worked.
Even by Pion base standards, dodging Imperial Fleet hull integrity regulations, and constructing inferior armor plating was something neigh but unheard of. The barrage from its point defense guns, although late, did manage to hit and change the course of that improvised space demolition device. Its twirling, enormous plasma funnel, still partially splashed onto ’Empress Throne’ hull, but not spot on target. With its shield emitters completely overheated, the starship was all but defenseless against such an attack. What that explosion did was to completely wreck the starship’s main heatsinks, forcing its overheated reactor core to automatically self-eject, melting safely outside the hull. Sadly, this created one rapidly expanding cloud of glowing-hot, irradiated debris. Soon the crew would start suffering and then dying from intense radiation exposure.
The ship still had some reserve power though. Not enough to charge the hyperspace generator, nor its main guns, but it could power the point defense and keep main systems operational for an hour. Maybe two if they really pushed it.
Omasa raised himself from the floor-plating and locked his mag-boots, slowly turning around. His bridge was a sight of utter devastation. Almost all of the bridge officers were dead or dying, command stations were burning and bloodied, eviscerated bodies littered the floor. He himself had survived but only because one of the pirate marines had shielded him with his own body. His corpse was crushed by one of the support beams – evidently someone missed welding it all the way. The plasma weld trail was but only superficial and Omasa almost screamed in anger. Those fool Pion base engineers – even in death they were endangering his ascension to glory! He had to use his PDA to send the emergency medical signal, alerting the hospital bay that not all of the bridge personnel was wiped out. He then looked around, searching for Nedal.
As expected, his cowardly XO was completely unharmed, safely hiding under one of the side command consoles. Nedal was shaking with fear and had even covered his eyes.
As if that could shield him from reality!
Omasa, disgusted, grabbed his spacesuit’s collar and picked the idiot up while screaming in his face:
“Useless fool, coward! I will have you shot for this!” – But instead of actually following up on his threat, Omasa turned around and shoved the XO away. He could still be useful to him and the ship, if what he thought was correct. Those sl
eepless hours that he spent sifting through his Father’s reports and holo-files could allow him to pull a victory from the jaws of eminent defeat:
“Scanning officer, I want data-stream by index XC05 displayed on our main holo-screen.”
Fulfilling his orders, the wounded woman requested one data package from their starship’s memory core. It displayed the last data-stream that his father had sent to Pion base just before his command center was bombed to smithereens by the victorious Terrans. On the holo-screen they could see a small patch of land down on Carrola prime’s surface. Surrounded by large, hulking trees, in the center of one valley lay a downed Terran starship. A cargo transport, one of the first ships that his father had shot down, before invading the pitiful colony with his troopers. As it was, he’d ordered some of his remaining star troopers to retreat there, and dig in after they began losing. But what was more crucial for Omasa – pinpoint, detailed scan data was linked next to all those holo-slides and maps. The human starship’s hull was constructed incredibly well and its reactor core, although suffering an emergency shut down, was neigh but untouched by weapons fire and the crash that followed up. He smiled victoriously and turned towards his suddenly very useful XO:
“Listen to me Nedal, and listen carefully! What you have here is a chance, one last chance, for you to salvage your reputation and restore that pitiful honor of yours! You are to take command of our star troopers, deploy to the planet below and secure that reactor core. Do you hear me!? We are now running on reserve power, but that won’t last us forever. Now, the best chance to finish this battle and achieve victory is using this salvaged reactor core to power up our hyperdrive, jump back to Pion base to grab reinforcements, quickly repair our battle damage and then come back to finish those filthy Terrans off!”
Nedal managed to stand up in attention and even saluted his Lord Captain properly. He then all-too-eagerly lunged himself towards the bridge elevator, and had almost reached it when the booming, intimidating voice of his captain echoed from behind:
“And Nedal, don’t you even think of doing what I know that you are planning! Your transport ship has no FTL capabilities and the only fast spooling hyperdrive is on board of this ship. My ship! You had better think over all of your actions very carefully from now on, Nedal. One wrong step, one more insubordination, or act of cowardice...”
Lord Captain Omasa pointed his gloved hand towards the outer space, all too visible through their transparent bridge armor plating and ominously snapped his fingers. The sound jerked Nedal back into action and his now shaking hand touched the elevator controls.
“Slag 1, respond!” – Angrily hissed in his comms Omasa, the very second Nedal’s face disappeared behind the closing elevator doors – “Respond, Slag 1!”
“Yes my Lord, we are standing by and prepared to execute your orders as soon as you give them!” – replied the raspy voice of his commando team leader.
All frigate size ships, and especially those who served on the border of the Empire, had one team of six highly trained special operators. The star commandos were widely known amongst the troops as the elite of the elite. His team had a shuttle, small in size, yet encased with stealth composite armor plating and crewed by the commandos themselves, it could sneak past by most sensors. Theoretically. Omasa was now sure that nothing was sure when Terrans were involved, and was basically arm-twisted into playing his last trump card.
“Descend down there and make sure that all relevant information concerning the fall of our garrison is safely secured in your PDA’s. Also keep an eye on that cowardly idiot Nedal, and if he messes up, immediately take control of the situation. I don’t trust him, nor his ’command’ skills, never mind the fact he was a Power armor squad leader on Sirius prime.”
“Acknowledged, my Lord! We will do our best, as always. Over and out!”
Beneath the ship’s hangar there was a secret service bay, one accessible only to his commando team. Its armored doors opened for just a few seconds. Plenty for the small, brownish shuttle-craft to dart away from ’Empress Throne’, its silhouette dissipating among the debris field, leaving behind a well concealed, minute ion trail.
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Anit’za sighed sadly, inspecting the damage report Brynjar had sent to his command console. There was no point in trying to close distance with that taz’aran monster of a frigate. Even in its damaged state it could easily destroy Starshatter with its point defense battery alone. Moreover, his scanning array was overwhelmed with radiation. Anit’za wasn’t that reckless as to put the lives of his crew on the line, and taking a dangerous dive in that field with only half of his shields working would be beyond foolish. Starshatter was an awesome ship she was, but fighting a giant frigate on her own tasked the main reactor assembly to the very limit. Brynjar’s shield modifications and Vasilisa’s piloting skills had saved the day, he had to admit.
Not sure how they’d pay for the repairs though. The dzenta’rii had heard about those bounty funds that all colonists gathered together with each other’s family members, neighbors and close friends. Those were to be used only in emergencies. Things like, oh, pirates kidnapping your entire family for example. If, however the money pooled wasn’t used in a span of one year, then they’d return everyone’s share, or invest the hefty sum in some business venture. Sometimes buildings in the colony were constructed by using this fund. Those Terrans were smart. Even without a government to take care of infrastructure projects and other stuff, they still managed to rapidly improve every aspect of their lives. This time the invaders, however, had possibly wiped all colonists and taken what was left of those alive to be sold in slavery. There was to be no sweet space adventurer quest reward for the ultimate location, rescue and return to Terran space.
As for their gutted enemy... a Dzent’a knew when to count his dekats and step away from the gaming table. Pushing his own vessel more was not part of the Plan. Taz’arans could suffer on their own without a main reactor, wasting away on reserve power and swimming in that radiation field. One must not lose sight of one’s primary objective, and theirs was finding where the kidnapped colonists were taken to. Also, a most dangerous group of assailants was rapidly approaching. Flying powerful pirate dropships, the enemy star marines were very close indeed. Could he perhaps dance around and pilfer one of them while nobody was looking?
Certainly yes! These obnoxious sods owed him one fully equipped shuttle, they did!
Captain Anit’za quickly jumped off his seat and ran towards the bridge lift. He was, of course fully armed, as were most of his crewmates. Yet, after entering the lift itself he turned around, and while holding his helmet with one hand, scratched his stubby jaw with the other, before reminding everyone their orders:
“Alric, Boris and myself will go up front and engage the marines directly, with Kera backing us up. If they should hack the airlock, she is to slow and stun them. I trust our four legged warrior will take care of any and all pirates whom she is unable to deal with?”
“Yes, captain,” – Boris uttered while the faceplate of his gray colored, I-sec issue spacesuit slid close – “rest assured that both he, and my wife will do their duty.” – He pulled the disruptor pistol from his holster and checked the power pack.
“As will I. We are finally finished playing with the pirates, aren’t we, captain?”
Anit’za’s answer was but a silently raised eyebrow, finger running across his throat in a universally understood gesture. The telepath’s right hand began smoldering, as red hot starlight formed an aura of pure plasma around it. It vanished as quickly as it appeared, but the captain knew – that man was the deadliest weapon in Starshatter’s arsenal. And in this specific case, one of his many, well concealed aces in the sleeve. What was even better – Boris had assured him that the star marine boarding parties had no telepath of their own to back them up.
“Good! Alric, you are sure that this is something you can pull off?”
– And the dzenta’rii actually glanced first at Vasilisa’s face. Her eyes were full of barely controlled emotions, as she was to do something no Spacer woman would under normal circumstances – leave her husband’s side in battle. It was very similar to his own customs and traditions; any dzenta’rii woman who deserted her family in dire times such as these was considered an outcast and a criminal, as a Dzent’a noble House lived or perished by virtue of their wives’ qualities and merit.
“Yes, Captain. This is what I was trained to do, and can do alone. The backup of a specialist telepath is something that I sorely lacked back on the ’Bremen’.” – The large man looked his young wife and sighed, fixing her rebellious blond hair. The very fact alone that he could use his armored exoskeleton’s gloves to do this, and with such precision, was mind-boggling. Vasilisa smiled sadly and in low voice addressed everyone inside the lift:
“Swear to me that you will never speak of this, ever again! That you will tell no one, especially no other Spacers. That is a shame that I will endure alone, and in secret.” – She then turned and locking eyes with Alric raised her index finger smiling – “One more, husband, one more!” – And as Alric returned her gaze with a confused grin, everyone else readily muttered:
“I swear.”
Cat checked her PDA link while swearing alongside the rest of the crewmates. She had knowledge of what a dead man’s scanner did, yet not even once had to go near one. In essence this device acted as a “black box” and in an event of the settlement’s destruction, rescue teams would at least know what, or better yet who did it. That device was always well hidden and protected, defended in some cases with multiple deadly traps. Basically it was a good, self-sustained and sturdy sensor module that was set to work always on passive scan mode. It tracked the starships who entered in and out of FTL near that colony. Bigger colonies had better DMS, some even multiple ones, who were able to hack enemy comms on their own. Alas, from what Cat had seen and read about Carrola being a simple farming colony, they had one. The gorilla inquisitively looked at her bunny crewmate:
