One Roll of The Dice parts 1 - 6 (Compiled)

[Witchking]

Part 1.

Event Horizon lurched drunkenly to port, Geiger’s head smacked into the bulkhead and he shook it to clear the sparks dancing in front of his eyes. This was not good, not good at all. Outside the plasma bolts slammed into the shields with increasing ferocity, followed by the electronic hiss as the energy dissipated across the grid, at least the shields seemed to be holding, for now but a quick glance at the rear monitor revealed the Mandelay veering away, as the Bayamon drifted into view and lined up to attack. Shit, it looked like it was packing PSG’s and if they opened up while he was in range it would be game over.

Geiger threw himself over to starboard, hauling the control column with both hands, willing the ship into a tighter turn, he started jinking, trying every evasive manoeuvre he knew, but each time, any distance gained, would be lost as the Bayamon slipped back in on his tail and closed the gap between them. Without pausing to consider the consequences, Geiger slammed on the reverse thrusters and held his breath as the Bayamon screamed past it’s lower nacelle’s passing inches above the cockpit.

He switched on the afterburner and slammed back into the seat, thanking the fates he had purchased the upgrade before he got into the card game on the Pirate Station. Up ahead the nebula beckoned, the shadowy outlines of massive asteroids drifting in and out of view. With some luck, he’d be able to lose them in here and as long as he didn’t run into a Khaak Cluster there was a chance, a small chance he might live to enjoy the proceeds from his winnings, tucked safely in the cargo hold was 20 units of weed he’d won from the Bayamon pilot, now desperately trying to close the gap behind him.

It was going to be close, damn close. The afterburners had shut down and the pirates would be upon him before he could use them again. The Mandelay was closing fast, already firing, although it’s shots were going wide, too wide to be accidental. The plasma bolts slammed into a medium-sized Asteroid dead ahead knocking off several large chunks that spun crazily into Geiger’s path. Brace for impact, klaxons went off, warning strobes kicked on, the ship stopped dead and screamed while Geiger was thrown violently forward against his harness, forcing the air from his lungs.

“Shields 40%…….Strafe Drive damaged….” Droned the computer. Sparks flew from the damaged panel as current arced across the controls shorting out readouts. Smoke drifted through the cabin. Consciousness returned, as did the remorseless thud of PAC fire striking the grid. “Shields 20%…….Ecliptic Projector Destroyed”. Geiger tried to clear his head, ignore the pain in his side, and assess the damage to the ship all at once. It felt like he’d dinged a couple of ribs but that was the least of his worries right now. “Shields Critical…..Hull 86%”. He finally got it moving again, although something was wrong, no healthy ship should make sounds like this one was making. He targeted the Mandelay and launched a couple of Mosquito’s to keep it busy and moved deeper into the nebula.

The Clouds closed in around him, comforting, yet claustrophobic at the same time. The pirates couldn’t see him but he couldn’t see them either. Up ahead a massive asteroid appeared, pock marked and scarred from millennia of collisions, a deep crater which looked large enough to hide in, appeared as the rock slowly rotated in front of him. Targeting a smaller asteroid nearby, Geiger launched the last of the mosquitoes and jettisoned the emergency flotsam pack, a collection of junk, spare parts and a container of whiskey. Enough to convince his pursuers? Maybe, if lady luck smiled on him twice this tazura. As the missiles exploded against the asteroid, he nursed the Event Horizon into the darkness to wait and see if this gamble would pay off.

[Witchking]

Part 2


The asteroid was old, and battered, a target for countless rocks and assorted space debris for aeons. Whatever had made this crater had punched into a fracture that seemed to lead right to the core and was large enough for Event Horizon to fly carefully into. He didn’t dare using the landing lights for fear of attracting attention, so he relied on the red and green nav beacons and instruments to fly through the twisting tunnel.

After a few mizura’s the tunnel widened into a cavern, and he swung the ship around shutting down the engines. The damage assessment wasn’t as bad as he’d feared, ok so the strafe drive, and ecliptic projector were fried but he could live without them, the 14% damage to the hull concerned him more. At 135.9 m/s the Falcon was never a fast ship, despite what the dealer in Seizewell said. With the hull damage, he’d be lucky to get 105 m/s out of it and with the afterburner maybe 290. On top of that he was low on E-Cells and the repairs to the ship were going to cripple his finances. There was nothing else for it, the plan to buy a jumpdrive in CBSW would have to go on hold. With those bastards looking for him and the increased Khaak activity in the sector recently, it was too dangerous to continue. His only option was to make a run for the north gate and once he got to Home of Light, he could crawl safely back to Argon Prime for repairs.

Then an idea struck him, maybe he should drop in on Chris on the way, he would help out, maybe throw some work his way. Nothing big or risky, a few local runs would go a long way to getting Event Horizon fixed and leave enough to maybe buy some stock. Like Geiger, Christoph Behringer was a vet. They’d served together with the Wolves, aka 15th Strike Squadron serving off the Argon Carrier Aggamemmnon. They’d been through some times together, with Chris on his wing, they’d fought they’re way through Omicron Lyrae, Black Hole Sun and right into 472, before faceless decision makers who never got they’re hands dirty managed to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory and ordered the retreat which shamed the memory of those who’d sacrificed so much.

While the Xenon, replaced their losses and recalculated their strategy, the Argon Navy, in their wisdom, de-commissioned the Squadron, and left it’s heroes to readjust and somehow fit into a society they had little or no knowledge of. A few drank themselves to death, couple more swallowed their laser pistols, Geiger used his muster pay to buy a beat-up disco and started trading and Chris, well Chris became the proud owner of “Louies”, a run down watering-hole, on the docking level of TerraCorp HQ in Home of Light. Now the DL was not the kind of place the bright lights of headquarters society hung out and even if they did, they certainly wouldn’t hang out in Louie’s. No, Louie’s clientele were more transient in nature, Ore haulers docked for a few hours r & r, bounty hunters looking for a mark or in to check the BBS for work, assassins, drug dealers, pimps and whores. Eventually they all showed up at Louies, where they could get a drink, information and almost anything they wanted without any questions being asked.

Chris worked the bar of his little empire, offering an ear to anyone who needed one and advice to anyone who asked. Geiger smiled, it would be good to hook up with Chris again, it had been too long, there was a lot of catching up to do. He struggled into his suit before opening the hold and went EV to manhandle the weed containers into a corner of the cavern, he wasn’t going to risk bringing then to AP. They’d be safe here and he’d come back for them when the repairs were done. Once he was back onboard, he began the checklist, preparing Event Horizon for departure…………

………………Outside, the Mandelay cruised slowly around the asteroid and spotted the debris field. Alert to the possibility of an ambush, he checked all around for anything suspicious before targeting the whiskey container and opening his cargo-bay doors to bring it aboard, he then commed his partner to report that Geiger was now a smear on the side of a rock. The Bayamon pilot responded,
“Hey Uri, you sure it’s him? What about my weed, did any of it survive”
“No, Tselmo, nothing but a crater and some debris, he must have hit pretty hard, probably a jammed thruster”
The Bayamon pilot cursed fluently in 3 different languages,
“Ok, lets go, a Merc’s just jumped in through the North gate, maybe this tazura won’t be a complete loss after all”
“ Affirmative, I’m just goi………..”
“Repeat your last message, I didn’t get the last part”

There was no response, just static, “Damn asteroids”, so much ore and minerals, played havoc with comms systems at this range. He swung the Bayamon around and headed into the nebula. He flew with great caution, he would be right on top of Uri’s Mandelay before he saw him. As the darkness swallowed his ship he shivered, the outside seemed to close in around him. As he rounded an asteroid he shut down his thrusters and tried to make sense of the scanner readings but the interference was too strong, just a jumble of static and ghost imaging.

Something bumped gently against the canopy. He looked up and saw his partner Uri, rotating slowly a few meters in front of him, still strapped into his seat, a cloud of blood droplets orbiting around where his head used to be. Instinctively, he reached for the thruster control but the angry buzzing and purple glow of a dozen Kyon emitters erupted around him and before he could open his mouth to scream his ship imploded.

[Witchking]

Part 3


As he approached the tunnel exit, Geiger shifted the thruster control to neutral, he had no idea what was waiting for him out there and didn’t want to charge out into an ambush. He glanced at his scanner, but noise and interference made it next to useless. He reached out to move the control forward but as he did so a pyramid shaped shadow passed 50 metres in front of him. He froze as the enemy M3 and it’s attendant wing of M5’s passed, like a shoal of predatory fish and disappeared into the swirling clouds. After a while Geiger realised he was still holding his breath and released it hissing through his teeth.

That had been so close, if they had been a couple of stazuras later, he would have flown right out into them. Indecision gripped him, should he stay or should he go. The old fighter pilot instinct re-instated itself and he slammed the thrusters to max, his engines roared, illuminating the veins of ore running through the asteroid. As soon as he cleared the rock, he turned the Falcon in the direction of the north Gate and hit the afterburner. This was no time for caution, if this was his tazura to die then so be it, bring it on, he’d had enough of hiding.

The sudden onset of gravity forced him back into his seat as the clouds whipped past him, thrust from his engines tearing them to shreds, leaving them swirling in crazed spirals behind the ship. His eyes flicked to the readouts 294.6m/s, at this speed he have no chance to avoid an asteroid if one was in his path. For an instant he thought he glimpsed a Khaak ship just off to port but no sooner had it registered then it was gone, like a ghost lost in the mist. Sweat ran into his eyes, he tried to swallow but his mouth was dry. Without even realising he was doing it he mouthed a prayer to the ancient Goner gods, yeah so most people believed the Goners were mad, but what was the saying “There’s no unbelievers in an asteroid field”.

Event Horizon was shaking violently as it entered a debris field, the remnants of a catastrophic collision. Rocks, some the size of small ships peppered the shield grid causing the computer to intone “Shields 60% …..”. ….”Shields 50%….”. The vibration increased in intensity and just as it reached the point where he was sure the ship was going to shake itself to pieces, he was clear, the clouds parted and starlight once again filled the cockpit. “The Gate, where’s the damn Gate”, there it was off to starboard. Geiger hauled on the control column and turned the ship towards it.

In the rear monitor the nebula seemed to erupt in multiple places as the Khaak ships punched through the clouds and swung as one, in his direction. Purple beams lit the space behind the Falcon, sweeping and reaching towards him, like the antenna of insects. He tore his eyes away from the Gate which was now filling his forward view and glanced at the afterburner readout 10 mizuras….9 mizuras…..8.

An explosion rocked the ship as a Kyon beam glanced off one of his engines ….”Shields Critical” The starboard thrust readout plummeted, the sudden shutdown causing a regulator to disintegrate, parts smashing through the nacelle plating as the trail of debris arced away from the ship. The shuddering increased as torque from the port engine tried to force the ship into a circular trajectory. Geiger leaned his entire weight against the column to keep the ship centred on the fast approaching Gate 4 mizuras….3 mizuras…2, then without warning and with the gentlest of tugs the Gate reached out and he was in the warp field……safe….for now.

Home of Light, what a wonderful sight. Geiger smiled to himself as the Gates speed control disengaged and he pushed the throttle forward. His top speed was now hovering around 58m/s and he wanted to move away from the main shipping lanes as quickly as possible, in case a TL decided to jump in behind him. After all he’d just been through, surely fate had better plans for him then to end up as an inconspicuous stain on the hull of a Hercules but he was taking no chances.

He glanced at the rear monitor. So far all reported encounters with the Khaak, suggested that for reasons unknown, they did not pursue ships through gates, in itself that should have been comforting, if it wasn’t for the fact that most ships who ran into the Khaak, didn’t survive to make a report.

A Manta glided past, Geiger tried to ignore, the laughing faces of the children looking at him through the view ports. It was a dream to have a Manta of his own one day and watch the credits roll in from those “Tour of a Lifetime” jobs he seemed to see on every other BBS. Bringing up the sector map, he targeted TerraCorp Hq, at 160km distance it was gonna take a while to get there so he tried to relax and enjoy the company of having shipping passing to and fro around him as well as the knowledge that the local sector patrol, 2 Argon Centaurs were now in position between him and the Gate behind.

After what seemed like an age, he came within comm distance of the station, he even managed to smile at the docking controllers post scan humour when he suggested that Geiger couldn’t dock cos they didn’t have five or six docking bays available for him park his ship. The relief that flooded through him when the docking lights turned green and the outer doors slid open was immense. He wasn’t sure, as he glided into the docking tunnel, what was holding his ship together but he was sure it wasn’t much. For the third time, this tazura he found himself holding his breath as Event Horizon reached her berth and the maintenance droids hooked the ship up the stations computer network.

As anyone who has ever worked the docking level of a station will tell you, it is the one place where real honest work is done. A place inhabited by those with the grime of honest toil beneath their fingernails…or claws, depending on the species. Of course, this is a load of Argnu shit, people here will screw you or stick a shiv in your back as quick as anyone else, but it sounds good to the unwary and they don’t last long enough to figure that out for themselves.

As Geiger stood at the access tunnel entrance and looked up and down the D/L’s main thoroughfare the first thing that struck him was the smell, a potent mix of oil, grease, ore, sweat and whiskey. The raw ingredients of life for those not fortunate enough to live in the levels above.

[Witchking]

Part 4


A voice spoke beside him ”Ahh Argon, perhapsssss we can do businessss together, yesss”
Geiger shook his head, “Sorry, I ain’t buying and right now I’ve nothing to sell”
The Teladi nodded sympathetically “May profitssss soon find you Argon” as she shuffled away. Despite, the rundown and disreputable nature of the docking level, it was still a busy commercial area and numerous shops vied for space and the attention of passersby. Geiger smiled, ”…even lowlifes like us need to consume”, he thought as he looked through the window of a sex shop, selling a huge array of gadgets to suit a wide range of anatomies, all guaranteed to take a space weary pilots mind off his journey for a while.

He stopped at a stand and ordered a Cahoona burger, while he was waiting for his food a cry rang out followed by the sound of glass breaking, the crowd ahead parted as two Split warriors swaggered through, their hands resting belligerently on the stocks of their hand weapons. They were Rhonker according to the badges on their bandoliers. Geiger stifled a smile, a couple of Jazuras ago he briefly merc’d for the Family Rhonkar during the Thynn’s Abyss Border Conflict with the Xenon. He’d learned a thing or two about the Split then. Putting it as diplomatically as possible, suffice to say it was no coincidence, the old saying that thrust controls on Split fighters had 16 reverse settings and only one forward, just in case they were attacked from behind.

He continued walking along the thoroughfare at a leisurely pace relishing the experience of being on his feet after spending so long strapped into the seat of his ship. He wondered how the great and good were getting on in the lofty heights above, on the levels accessed via the luxury turbo lifts which only open to those with Nividium credit cards.

Something moved fast into his peripheral vision and he was almost knocked off his feet as a young Argon man came rushing out of a shop, followed by a furious Paranid shopkeeper. Out of nowhere two TerraCorp Security guards appeared and grabbed the kid. One of them stepped in front of the irate Paranid, who looked like he was ready to kill. “He has a DNA scanner, he stole from my establishment”
“Ok, ok”, said the cop, “Calm down”, he nodded to his partner who expertly frisked the youngster, pulling the stolen scanner from his pocket.

“Busted”, said the cop, “you wanna press charges”. The shopkeeper shook his head, “He’s not worth my time”, he muttered, “I’ve got my goods back, but if I see him near my shop again, I’ll tear him three arseholes, thieving Argon primate”. The kid looked sullenly at the cops, “I needed the scanner to try and find my sister Suzie, she missing somewhere on the station.” The cop shook his head, man, had he heard that story before.
“Beat it kid, count yourself lucky you’re not on your way to Slam right now”.

Geiger moved on, up ahead he saw the flashing sign for Louie’s, Bar and Grill and quickened his pace. As he stepped inside he paused to let his eyes adjust to the smoke filled gloom, the pungent smell of weed wafted through the place, Chris must be well in with the cops or this place would have been shut down long ago. As he got used to the lighting Geiger saw another old comrade from the squadron working behind the bar. Arturo “Rivets” Spinoza, so named for the robotic arm and leg he earned after being shot down during an atmospheric raid on the planet Chryse, in 347. Known as Saa-Russ by the Boron), Chryse was 90% water and home to a Xenon installation, the Argon brass considered so important, they sacrificed 5 fighter squadrons and 2 destroyers trying to take it out. A lot of good people rest on the ocean floor of Chryse, and Rivets was damn lucky not to be one of them.

Geiger looked around the rest of the bar. It was pretty quiet, a couple of whores in the corner taking a break, A drunk in a booth trying to convince a Teladi to sleep with him, damn he had to be drunk. He walked to the bar and grabbed a stool, “Hey Rivets, gimme a shot of fuel on the rocks will ya”. The Bartender squinted at him in disbelief, “Sal…..Salazer Geiger, you old Argnu-shagger. I don’t believe it. How are you pal?”
“Been a bit better, been a lot worse, how about you, Arturo, how you doing”
Spinoza, spread his arms expansively,
“Hey, I’m still breathing and at least my dick is real”
Geiger smiled, Rivets fancied himself as a ladies man, back in the day. Some things never changed.
Spinoza, laughed and shook his head in amazement,
“Man, I can’t believe you, just showing up out of nowhere, like this Sally, Chris is gonna go wild when he gets back”
Geiger nodded ruefully,
“He’s not on station, huh? Where’s he at?”.
Some of the sparkle left Spinoza’s eyes,
“He had some business, in Herron’s Neb, was due back 3 stazura’s ago. I hope nothings wrong”

[Witchking]

Part 5


Geiger was sure he detected more then the usual degree of concern in Spinoza’s voice, “What’s going on, Arturo, what kind if business is Chris involved in….Drugs?…..Booze?”. Spinoza shook his head, “I wish it was that simple Sal”, he looked uncomfortable, “shit, Chris will go nova when he finds out I’ve been talking about it”. Geiger leaned forward and pointed to the squadron tattoo on his left arm, “Chris has one of these, just like you and me Arturo, we’ve all saved each others lives more times than we care to mention over the years and if Chris has gotten into something that has you this worried for his safety, then he’d better deal with it, cos I’d expect him to tell you if I was in trouble………so…..what gives?”.

Spinoza, sparked and took a deep hit on a joint before passing it to Geiger and clearing his throat to speak,
“Three Tazura’s ago, this guy comes in to the bar, halfway through uptime, the place was almost empty so it struck me as kind of unusual. Anyways he orders a soft one and sits in the corner for the next stazura, nursing his drink, watching the door. By the time Chris showed up for the downtime shift, I was convinced this guy was a contract killer waiting for his mark, so I mentioned it to Chris and he looks over and his face goes white, then real quiet like, he asks me to cover for him for a while. I said sure and asks him what’s up but he says its nothing, he’s just got some business to attend to and over he goes and talks with this stranger for…I don’t know maybe half a stazura. Finally the stranger gets up and leaves and Chris just comes to the bar and tells me to go home and get some rest. I could tell there was something wrong, you know Chris, wears his heart on his sleeve. Well not this time Sal, this time he’s shut down real tight, tells me it’s nothing to worry about. Next tazura, when I get here….there’s a note saying he has business in Herron’s Neb and that he’ll be back in 3 –4 tazura’s”.

Spinoza took another hit off the joint, “You know Sal, I’ve been thinking about that stranger ever since. At the time I was convinced he was an assassin or some kind of tough guy civilian but the more I think about it, the more sure I am. He had Shadow written all over him”.

Geiger felt as though his jaw had become unhinged and was about to hit the table. The Shadow Units were the most secret and elusive of the already paranoiac Military Intelligence wing of the Federal Argon Navy. A Black Ops Unit which existed more in legend and rumour than in reality. Their exploits always related as having been witnessed by someone’s, best friend’s, third cousin.

Like most people, the members of Wolf Squadron didn’t really believe they existed at all, until the tazura they were ordered to the Wastelands and landed on ASD-538. The briefing said it was a scientific colony, a hollowed out asteroid served as their home and base of operations. Contact had been lost for 20 tazura’s and had not been re-established. Wolf Squadron was ordered in to offer whatever assistance was required.

Geiger stared bitterly at his drink, “Whatever assistance”, he thought, “the only assistance those poor bastards required was a burial detail”. Eleven hundred and thirty seven men, women and children lay dead in the passages and caves of asteroid ASD-538, even the scientists, god-damned pets had been slaughtered, in the coldest most clinical act of brutality, Geiger and his men had ever witnessed. The perps had been very careful, even the stray weapon blasts had been treated in a way that made them unidentifiable. But someone had ******-up, deep inside the asteroid there was a passage where probably the last group of scientists had tried to find refuge. High up on a gangway a solitary securicam had remained un-noticed by the killers, and it recorded for posterity the final moments of the scientists lives as several masked men, wearing Argon military uniforms murdered 25 unarmed Argon civilians as they begged for mercy.

The camera even managed to get a close-up of an officer delivering the coup-de-grace to a woman who had survived the initial barrage of laser fire. Although he was masked, the footage showed the unit insignia on his sleeve. A stylised backlit doorway, with a crooked shadow protruding beneath.

Geiger’s C.O. Colonel Petrie Vandoren, destroyed the recording, with a warning to his men that if any of them spoke of this ever, both they and their families would likely meet the same fate. To this tazura, Geiger still had night terrors about the mission to ASD-538 and lying in his bunk, while cold sweat dried on his skin, often wondered what act or crime the scientist’s could have committed that would warrant such a response. The answer would probably never be known, perhaps they had uncovered a secret too dangerous for anyone to know, maybe they were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. In the dark power games played by the faceless, a pawn or in this case 1137 pawns were expendable. Someone once said, “A single death is a tragedy, a million deaths a statistic”. Geiger shook his head and slapped Spinoza on the shoulder, “Don’t worry Arturo, we’ll get him back safely”, hoping to hell, he sounded more confident than he felt.

[Witchking]

Part 6


Even hardened traders dislike flying through the Pirate sectors. As you fly through the south Gate of Atreu’s Clouds into Farnham’s Legend you feel the difference, it’s hard to put your finger exactly on it but there’s a sense of abandonment about the rogue systems, you feel more alone then ever, there’s a sense of waiting. The ships, which pass you, have a hurried tense feel about them, they watch you, as you watch them, each hoping the other won’t turn out to be a raider and unleash destruction without warning.

As the convoy moved out of the Gates control zone and turned south east towards Bala Gi’s Joy, the escort pilots busied themselves checking scanners, tightening seat harnesses and calling in weapon check requests to the commanding officer. For a few mizura’s the convoy lit up as each fighter let loose a few HEPT rounds to ensure his systems were working and properly synchronised. No one wanted to fly through these systems with a faulty weapon. The convoy consisted of a Mercury transporter and four Nova heavy fighters. Two of the escorts were flying 12 Km in front of the Merc and the remainder, roughly the same distance to the side and rear.

To the casual observer it looked like a standard military convoy, to anyone else, they would need to get a lot closer, close enough to see the insignia painted on the hull plating, to realise that this was anything but a standard military convoy. This was a Shadow operation and if they were close enough to realise that, they were probably dead already.

Although the name still struck fear through anyone who knew of their existence, the truth was the Shadow Units were no longer the force they once were. The days of limitless, un-accountable black-ops budgets were over. The cream of the cream was spread too thinly and gaps were starting to show, the equipment was still top of the range but like everyone else in the Argon Military it was finding someone to fly it that was becoming a problem. Successive governments, convinced that the Xenon threat was over and the Khaak threat was being exaggerated by the Military command, had taken their toll on the Argon Navy. The military budget had been reduced tazura after tazura until even units like Shadow had no choice but to hire mercenaries to fly missions like this one. Mercenaries like Chris Behringer, who’s massive gambling debts had left him no choice but to accept.

“Red Leader to Red Four, you’re drifting off station”
“Roger that Red Leader returning to position”
“Red Leader to squadron, OK people this is it……welcome to the Badlands. They don’t call this Plasma Alley for nothing so I want eyeballs and instruments. The nebula in this system is throwing out a huge amount of EM activity so don’t rely on instruments alone”

Chris glanced over at his wingman, who was anxiously craning his neck from side to side and found himself wishing yet again that Geiger was there instead. The mission itself was fairly straightforward, escort the TS with a cargo of, mind your own damn business, from here to there. Simple, unfortunately it was the “from here to there” part that was going to be difficult. Whatever the Merc was carrying, it was too fragile to withstand the stresses induced by an internal jumpdrive. So they had no choice but to do it the hard way and nursemaid the transporter from Herron’s Nebula through systems that got progressively more dangerous until they reached their destination an Ore Mine in Brennan’s Triumph.

The intercom burst to life, “Red Two to leader, I’ve got targets, multiple unknown targets approaching fast from behind….wait…s**t there’s another group ten plus bandits coming straight towards us as well”

Chris, thumbed his mic, “Alright, keep calm everyone I need exact numbers, ID and distance. Red Three and Red Four Defence pattern Delta….I repeat defence pattern Delta. Come on Red Two give me the numbers…Over

Red Two’s voice crackled over the com, fear and excitement conspiring to raise it by a few semitones, “Roger Leader….they’re Khaak, sir we’ve got 1 M3, 2 M4’s and 5…no six M5’s 80Km behind approaching fast on intercept course.
“Copy that Red Two, what about the group coming towards us”.
There was a pause, “that group has 15 M5’s, 6 M4’s and 3 M3’s sir…they are 92Km ahead”..
The comm crackled and hissed with static but nobody spoke, what was there to say……8/1 odds with an enemy that also had the advantage of speed and weapons that were more powerful and of significantly greater range.

Chris took a breath before thumbing his mic, “Ok, ok I know those odds don’t look good but I’m not planning on dying this tazura and neither are any of you, so here’s the plan. We go at them in 2 groups, Red 3 and 4 take the group coming at us head on. Red 2 and I will handle the group on our ass. We go in step formation Red 2 and Red 4 switch to Ion Disrupters and fly as the bottom steps Red 3 and I will stick with BHEPTS and fly top step above and behind. We go in fast using our afterburners and strip as many of their shields down in the first pass as possible, then its Dragonfly’s and lasers for the M4’s and 5’s and Hornets for the big bastards OK…..Red leader to Transport we are going to hit them as far out from you as possible about 30 Sezura’s after we go I want you to launch 2 groups of 25 drones. Target one group to each group of bandits then head for the BoGas Factory as fast as you can. Its my guess that the M3’s are going to ignore us completely, they expect the M4’s and M5’s to keep us tied up while they go after you. We’ll sort out the small and medium fighters as quickly as possible and use the turbo’s to get back in time to take out the M3’s. Ok are we ready to do this, let me hear it”
The replies were quick and positive, “ Red 2 to Leader, roger that Sir”.
“Red 3, understood Sir”
“Red 4, Aye aye Captain”
“Red Leader to squadron, afterburners on my mark 3…2…1.engage”

The combined velocity of the two groups was enormous and ten sezura’s later Chris switched the turbo off and slipped into position above and behind Red 2. There’s no adequate way to describe the sound a Kyon Emitter makes as it reaches out towards you. Chris watched them arc across the shrinking space between the fighters and heard the angry Doppler buzzing as they swept past and knew that their chance’s were practically zero. The swarm grew larger at a frightening rate and as the beams found their target and the shields began to fall, he could hear Red 2 frantically panting out his mantra “Nearly there, just a little closer”.

A sezura later and the area lit up as streams of Ion energy arced across the swarm, depleting the small to medium ships shields rapidly. Chris opened up with his guns destroying three in quick succession and then they were upon each other. An M4 appeared out of nowhere and slammed into the starboard side of his ship, its hardened point gouging a deep furrow along the length of the upper nacelle, a huge shower of sparks flew across the cockpit exterior temporarily blinding Chris who was thrown about like a child’s rag doll. The ship began to shudder as stabiliser systems gave out and the computer tried unsuccessfully to re-route the functions to secondary systems. Chris vaguely heard a voice in his headset “Red 2 to Red Leader…….Red 2 to Red Leader, respond please….Sir are you all right?” Chris blinked and shook his head, he quickly glanced at the main readouts and saw with relief that apart from the shaking his ship still seemed to be battle worthy, he switched on his mic, “Leader to Red 2, I’m OK….what’s our status”

“We got 5 of them, Sir, 1M4 and 4 M5’s. The others are co…”
Red 2’s voice faltered as something blocked out the sun behind him and coldness washed over him. Chris brought his ship around just in time to see the Khaak M3 open up with all three lasers at point blank range. Red 2’s ship seemed to almost arch it’s back in agony before blossoming into an expanding ball of metal and energy, secondary explosions tearing at it’s symmetry as its ordinance blew up in the heart of destruction.

“Collision Alert“ the computer announced. Chris dragged his eyes away to see an M4 hurtling suicidally towards him. Too late, he pushed the column forward but ended up only presenting a larger target to the enemy as the fighter smashed into him, “Shields Critical”. A crack appeared above Chris’s head and grew rapidly in jagged lines across the canopy. Alarms went off, “Hull Integrity failure, explosive decompression imminent”. Without further thought, Chris pulled his visor shut checked his suits readout and pulled the ejection lever, punching out through his failing canopy sezura’s before the Nova disintegrated

As the seats ejection boosters ran out of fuel, Chris hit the harness release and used his suit’s manoeuvring thrusters to get clear of the seat. He wanted to present as small a target as possible, he didn’t know whether the Khaak took prisoners or not, but if they did, he didn’t plan to be one. He used the suits integral VEG system to zoom in on the rest of the battle or what was left of it. Red 4 must have bought it, there was no sign of him. Red 3 was still alive and using his turbo to try and get back to the Transport with a swarm of M5’s tearing at his ship from behind, “Come on……come on you can do it” Chris muttered, willing his comrades survival. Just as the first of the Fighter Drones reached them, Red 3 seemed to stall and slow down, a trail of debris appeared behind him as the ship came apart and the cockpit section side slipped into a sheet of flame. Chris hung helplessly screaming “Bastards”, but no one was listening.

The swarm completely ignored the drones, some of which were already starting to run out of fuel and shut down. The surviving M5’s caught up with the remaining M3’s and accelerated towards the Transport which had almost reached the Station. The docking lights turned green, while the swarm were still 15 Km away and with a sigh of relief Chris saw the Merc slip into the tunnel and land.

With the VEG at full zoom Chris watch as the Khaak swarm came to a complete halt. At the centre of the group the remaining M3’s formed a pyramid shape and used their manoeuvring thrusters to close in on each other. Apertures in each of their hulls slip open and clamping grips moved into position locking the ships together. The M5’s formed a circle around the nucleus and slowly the circle tightened until the cluster was reformed. Chris watched fascinated, in spit of his feelings towards them, any moment now he expected to see a warp tunnel opening as the cluster jumped back to wherever they came from. Instead the combined cluster engine brightened as they began to pick up speed and turn slowly and deliberately onto a collision course with the BoGas station. On the station itself the traffic controllers realised that the unthinkable was about to happen and frantically issued orders for their fighters to scramble but it was too late a lone fighter was emerging from the docking tunnel when the cluster plunged into the huge storage tanks causing an explosion which turned the station and everything within a 10 Km radius into a blinding ball of light.

As the shockwave hurtled towards him, Chris wondered briefly what cargo could have been so important, that the enemy were prepared to take out a station, its 5000 inhabitants and themselves, to prevent it from reaching it’s destination. He was still thinking when darkness took him………….