Derelict: Book 2, Counterattack (A LitRPG Dungeon Core Adventure)

by Dean Henegar

  — 14 —

  “It’s going to be close, sir. We gained a few seconds when the dragon slowed to destroy that last raider,” scans said. Slater had already set his jump drive to activate the moment they were within range of the gate. The dragon was closing, and their scanners now gave them a disturbingly close view of the beast. Like the mythical creatures he knew from childhood stories and movies, the monster had four legs, two large wings it didn’t need to flap to move, a long tail, and an equally long neck that ended in an enormous head full of teeth. A strange red haze settled over the monster; Slater assumed it was a manifestation of the magic-like energy it was using to not only fly in space but also survive in a vacuum.

  “Ten seconds until we reach the jump point,” scans said as the ship shuddered. Slater felt it as first one and then another of his thrusters failed. The newest design of the Franklin sported four main drive thrusters in a diamond-shape configuration at the rear of the vessel. Two were mangled wrecks. Thankfully, their failure didn’t breach the hull.

  “Thrusters one and three failed!” helm shouted to the others.

  “It’s entering breath range, sir!” scans said as Slater felt the edge of the dragon’s breath strike the rear of his ship. The shields were destroyed in an instant, and the breath slagged the remaining thrusters, breached the hull, and ate away at the insides of the Franklin. Slater shrieked in pain. Somehow, the dragon was able to hurt him through the ship itself. In the back of his pain-wracked mind, Slater could tell they were within the jump point and felt the drive activate, losing consciousness as the ship transitioned to a new system.

  * * *

  “Damage report. How bad are we hit? I need answers now, Diaz!” Captain Guzman shouted as soon as the transition was complete. Diaz knew they were in trouble, but the captain shouldn’t be treating him in this manner. He was doing his job, and these things took time to get right. While he kept a veneer of respect when in front of the other crew, he was not a fan of the captain. In fact, he had only taken the slot as his executive officer since it was the last step he needed to take before getting his own command. He was born to command, unlike Guzman, who had sold his soul to the devil Slater. Sure, the beast had “rescued” them all, but that was more the work of the American soldiers, as far as he could tell. Despite his distaste of the captain, he did still have a job to do.

  “All the thrusters are cooked. Hull breaches across the aft. No casualties reported, and it looks like the damage was all to our drives and reactor. We’re at twenty percent power. Not enough to power scanners, weapons, or shields. We’re dead in space, sir, at the mercy of the gnomes,” Diaz said, the last bit a dig on the stupid captain and his foolish decision to join this cursed ship. They would have been better off trying to cobble together a vessel from the leftovers of the mothership, but no, Slater had eaten what could have been their ride home, and Diaz was convinced that it was only a matter of time before they, too, were reprocessed by the drones.

  “Belay the commentary, Commander Diaz. Is damage control responding?” the captain asked him.

  “We can send in the makeshift repair crews, but it looks like the drones are on it,” Diaz replied. While he hated what the drones represented, he had to admire their efficiency as they got to work. Despite that admiration, Diaz knew that the creature named Slater was pulling their strings. The strange core thought it was a human, but it was only a matter of time before he turned on them all, killing and absorbing them for raw materials. To top everything off, these people were conspiring with an elf, a race that even the other hostile factions had tried to eradicate. There was nothing he could do about his horrible situation . . . yet.

  “Commodore Slater, how long until the drones can fix the damage? Commodore, are you there?” Captain Guzman said, panic rising in his voice.

  Diaz paused in his work, waiting for the disembodied voice of his oppressor to speak, but it remained silent. Did the dragon attack somehow save them from a bigger monster?

  “He may have been injured in the blast. A dragon’s magic is powerful enough to damage even a derelict. I can sense that Commodore Slater is still there, just out for an unknown amount of time. He will wake when his systems repair themselves. There is also no longer any danger from the dragon. Despite their powerful magic, dragons cannot use jump gates,” Illissa advised the others on the bridge.

  The crew remained at their stations and waited for Slater to announce his return. After several hours passed, it became apparent that he wasn’t going to awaken anytime soon.

  “Stand down from general quarters. Until the drones can get the basic systems back up and running, let’s start rotating our people out for some chow and rest,” Captain Guzman ordered.

  “Aye, aye, sir. I’ve got the bridge if you want to get some chow and rest, Captain. Once Commodore Slater is back, you’ll want to be fresh,” Diaz offered.

  “Very well. Call up whoever you need on watch and the rest of us will get some downtime. If anything turns up, let us know,” Captain Guzman said as most of the bridge crew followed him out of the compartment. Diaz jumped at his chance, calling up the other four he knew felt the same way about their predicament as he did. For the moment, it appeared as if the monster Slater was out of commission, though how long that would last was anyone’s guess. Still, if an opportunity arose, he wanted his loyal people with him.

  Most of the crew ate a meal and then drifted off to their cabins for some rest. There wasn’t much for Diaz to do, save for waiting while the drones worked away at repairing the damage. The ship must have stockpiled up quite a bit of material; the drones were running through it quickly for their repairs. Part of the first round of repairs included some of the hull sensors, which gave Diaz a partial view of the damage to the ship. The thrusters weren’t damaged; they were missing. The whole back of the ship had been melted away by the dragon’s breath. The last six to ten feet of the ship was simply gone.

  Thankfully, the little drones were prioritizing things well, getting the reactor back into shape and the sensors online while they tried to restore comms. Several of the inoperable consoles came to life as the drones progressed with their repairs, and soon, Diaz had the comm system as well as the remaining sensors working.

  “Commander, we’re being hailed!” the crewman covering both sensors and comms exclaimed.

  “Get a scan going. Who is it? Gnomes?” Diaz asked.

  “No, scans show a dwarven survey and mining vessel,” sensors replied. Humanity had a few encounters with the various dwarven clans. Mostly they had been friendly. Some trade had occurred, but they were reluctant to trade any information or weapons that might be traced back to them. Still, dwarves were often greedy, and Diaz just might be able to feed that greed if the dwarves helped him in return.

  “Put them through,” Diaz ordered.

  “What’s a human doing on a gnomish mothership?” the dwarf said, sputtering when Diaz’s image came up. The dwarf leader was seated on a solid-looking command chair and wore the coveralls of a miner, confirming this was a scouting expedition for one clan or another.

  “We’re the USS Franklin. We look like a gnomish vessel but that is just a cover. As you know, humans aren’t exactly welcome by most races. I hope you’re not particularly disposed to begin hostilities,” Diaz said, testing the waters.

  “Nae, we’re just heading toward the jump point. Going to survey the next system to see if there’s anything worth mining out there,” the dwarf replied.

  “You might want to hold off on your trip. We just jumped in from that system right as a dragon clipped our tail,” Diaz said, sending a view of their aft damage. It was a risk since the dwarves could see them as vulnerable and decide it was easier to just take any valuables aboard the Franklin and forgo their mining survey.

  The dwarf stroked his beard for a moment before replying. “Looks bad. Haven’t seen a dragon for centuries in these parts. You rile it up somehow?”

  “No, it was already chasing down some gnomes w
hen we crossed its path. We’re the survivors of a gnomish attack who were rescued by . . . this ship,” Diaz told the dwarf.

  “Thanks for the warning. Not going to risk my crew if there’s a dragon galivanting around in the system. Going to be lean times for us. Not much useable ore in this rat’s hole of a system,” the dwarf said, stroking his beard.

  “Might be more profitable than you think, friend. I and a few of the folks on this ship aren’t exactly here of our own free will. If you can take us aboard and get us to human space, we can make you rich,” Diaz offered.

  “That’s not very likely. I think it’s more likely you’ll get gobbled up by the gnomes. One system over is home to several of their clan bases. They pay decent money for human slaves. You’re quite the novelty to them,” the dwarf threatened.

  “We’ve got something more valuable than the pitiful coin you can gather for a few raggedy slaves. I can offer you a derelict core if you’re interested,” Diaz said, hopefully setting the hook that would see them safely back home.

  The dwarf started to laugh until one of the dwarves manning the scanners pointed to something on his screen that Diaz couldn’t see.

  “It’s true, there is a derelict core in there. How? Its signal is weak. Is it dead? Are you just MOBS trying to lure us in?” the dwarf asked, perking up when their scans had shown there was core energy aboard.

  “We’re real enough and just want to get home. The core is dead—or will be shortly. Take me and my crew home and we’ll hand you the core,” Diaz offered.

  The dwarf smiled; they loved negotiation. “How many of you are there?”

  “Let’s go with twenty to twenty-five. Not everyone will want to leave,” Diaz told the dwarf.

  “Too many. Our ship’s life support couldn’t take it. I’ll make you a counteroffer. I’ll take up to six of you. I’ll dock with your ship, you hand me the core, and I’ll let the six that you choose come aboard,” the dwarf offered.

  Diaz wasn’t born yesterday and had been present on a ship that negotiated with dwarves in the past. They struck a hard bargain, but if you got their stone-bound word, they would do what they agreed to.

  “No, six is fine, but you’ll let us aboard and then I’ll hand you the core. You’ll guarantee our safety and get us to human space immediately. No dawdling about, looking for mining spots,” Diaz said, thinking about who he could add as the sixth passenger and coming up blank.

  “Agreed, we’ll approach your starboard boarding hatch,” the dwarf said.

  “Good, but I’ll need your stone-bound word on that, friend,” Diaz countered. He felt bad that they would be leaving most of the crew behind, but they had all happily thrown in their lot with that monster Slater and his minions.

  The dwarf looked a Diaz for a long while before replying. “Fine, you have the stone-bound word of Dherax that I agree to your terms. Be ready when we dock, and have the core with you or we’re out of here. I’ll not have my crew rummaging around some derelict, getting eaten by who knows what,” Dherax said.

  “We’ll see you in twenty minutes then, friend,” Diaz replied, then cut the feed.

  The bridge crew all looked to Diaz, waiting for his orders.

  “Okay, it looks like it’s just us. We hit the armory quietly and then kill and snatch that glowing monster ball,” Diaz said. His co-conspirators appeared nervous, but if this deal meant a ride home, they were more than willing to sacrifice the others in return for their safety.

  Diaz and his companions left the bridge, working their way quietly toward the rear of the vessel. Nearly everyone else would be asleep by now, and it was a perfect time to execute his plan. For ease of use, most of the rifles and pistols were secured on racks in the rec center. If an enemy boarded, the humans would need to react quickly. Heavier weapons and explosives were kept with the soldiers in their cabins. Diaz didn’t want to mess with them, so his crew each took a rifle, a pistol, and an ammo belt before heading aft toward the core room.

  “Why are you guys armed? Shouldn’t you be on the bridge, Commander Diaz?” Private Long asked. Diaz hadn’t seen the man enter the compartment to grab a late-night snack at the food dispenser. Like always, the mangy rat-thing was at his side. The private must have instinctively known something was wrong, as his hand dropped toward the pistol holstered on his waist.

  “We’ve been relieved by the others. What’s on the menu tonight?” Diaz said in a friendly voice as he approached the soldier.

  “Put the weapons down, you guys,” Long said while drawing his weapon. Diaz already had his rifle up and fired a single shot into the private. The boom of the rifle reverberated through the compartment as the round hit Long in the hip. The explosive tip went off with a pop, and a fist-sized chunk of the private was blasted away in a spray of gore that covered the food dispenser.

  With a growl, the disgusting rat monster leaped onto one of Diaz’s men, ripping out his throat and at the same time stinging another in the heart with the spike at the end of its tail. Another of his crew got his rifle into play and sprayed a burst into Mr. Bitey, pulping the beast.

  “They’re dead, sir. What do we do now? Those shots are going to bring the whole ship down on us!” one of his surviving crew whined, looking down at their two dead companions.

  “Nobody could have heard us. This room is soundproofed, remember? Slater didn’t want the noise from the entertainment vids or people talking while eating chow to wake the others that were trying to sleep in their cabins. Leave the dead and get a move on before someone else wanders in and tries to stop us. Today, Slater dies, no matter what,” Diaz told the remaining crew before heading aft toward the core room and his target.

  — 15 —

  Illissa was finishing up some research on the human claymore mines, trying to determine how they incorporated the two-stage laser- and projectile-firing system. It was one of those projects that Slater needed to complete but wasn’t urgent enough to warrant pulling processing power away from other research items. She no longer needed sleep and liked to spend the quiet times working in here. Keeping busy kept her mind on the task at hand—helping the humans return home—and away from the guilt and despair she felt over her actions. She realized that she had no control over what she had done, but the images were still there, and if her mind wasn’t engaged in other tasks, the images would pop into her head, a nonstop parade of regret. Magic and centuries of experience were helpless against feelings of guilt.

  She was startled to hear the hatch begin to open, so she paused her work to see who was entering. As soon as she spotted Diaz and two other crew members wielding weapons, she knew there was trouble. Ducking behind the console, she hid from the men as they moved through the compartment. She must have been fast enough; the men didn’t notice her behind the console or even realize the console was on and working, a dead giveaway that someone was nearby. The trio didn’t close any of the hatches behind them, so she waited until they were out of earshot before she got up from behind the console. Illissa smelled the familiar tang of gunpowder and blood wafting through the hatch leading from the rec room.

  She wanted to follow Diaz, but something told her she was needed in the recreation area. Rushing into the compartment, she saw the mangled body of Mr. Bitey surrounded by two dead sailors she recognized from the new crew. Discarded weapons lay nearby, and the rat appeared to have fought the men. One still was impaled by the rat’s spiked tail, and the other had his throat ripped out.

  A noise from the corner of the room caught her attention, and she saw Private Long mumbling to himself as he fumbled with a medkit attached to his belt. The movement caused the private to moan in pain. Illissa immediately spotted the horrible wound on his hip. The human’s lifeblood was steadily pouring out. She had to act fast. Summoning her power, she rushed over to the wounded human. A blue glow enveloped her hand as she placed it directly on the wound. Private Long groaned in pain at her touch and began to thrash about feebly.

  Illissa kept the physical connection to
the private, despite his struggles. While she could heal over a distance, physical contact improved the rate of healing. The light began to spread over the wound as she flooded the human with healing energy. In her mind, she saw the damage and tried to piece together the inefficient anatomy of the human body. The damage to Long was severe, and she had to fight for several moments just to stabilize the man. Being from another race hampered her connection, but she fought on, breathing out a sigh of relief as the bleeding began to slow before stopping. With the blood loss contained, she started knitting together bone and tissue, restoring the area as much as she could. It had been a long while since she used her power, and it felt good to help another.

  “Stop them . . . Trying to kill . . . the Commodore,” Long sputtered out, somewhat more coherent as she replaced the lost blood. He tried to say something else before dropping unconscious once more. Illissa knew her healing had fixed the damage but did little for the pain. She was not surprised the private had passed out, but now she had another problem. Diaz and his cronies were going to try and kill Slater’s core!

  A derelict core had a very durable structure, but with the weapons the humans had, it was possible to damage if not destroy the commodore. Staying long enough to make sure the wounds wouldn’t reopen once her healing power was removed, Illissa stood and began to move through the ship, heading toward the core room. The hatches were left open, speeding her progress and, hopefully, concealing her pursuit. With Slater out of commission, he would be helpless to defend against Diaz. If she wanted to save the commodore, she was going to have to take on the three humans by herself.

  Healing Private Long had put only a small dent in her magic reserves, leaving more than enough to prepare for the coming fight. Power surged around her as she cast a spell, and the glowing mana eventually settled into a faint blue glimmer that surrounded her body as the protective shield snapped into place. Unlike her healing magic, the shield was a large drain on her mana, but she should be able to keep it up for quite a while, given her substantial mana pool. Once prepared, Illissa rushed after her prey.