by Will Crudge
Throat said. He would have scoffed, but the medium by which were communicating could only approximate certain human-based expressions.
Throat toggled the thrust array controls to isolate the individual thrusters that Slasher managed to get back online. The control thrusters began to respond to the unorthodox rerouting of resources, and they flared to the right the flat spin.
The enemy gunship never expected the abrupt recovery of maneuver and had already begun to cut velocity with retro-thrusters. The LRF-90 lined up to a new vector and fired its thrusters at full power.
With only a fraction of its normal speed, the super fighter buzzed the superstructure on the top of the gunship and burned passed its aft thruster array.
The gunship seemed to continue on with its original maneuver. The non-AI controlled ship would rely on human decision making and hand-jamming before it could do much else. That was all factored into Slasher’s plan.
The LRF rotated one hundred and eighty degrees and lined up a particle beam solution on the gunships thruster array. The cannons fired, and the thinly powered stern shielding flared out in a split second.
The particle beams cut into one of the main thrusters, and it began to disintegrate. But the target of opportunity wouldn’t last forever. The gunship rotated hard to port and denied the LRF of a straight-on shot to allow the beam to form for maximum effectiveness.
Once again… All part of the plan.
The energy shielding on the gunship’s fore-section began to ripple with boosted energy. Instead of trying to re-energize the stern-shielding, they had elected to take the quicker approach, and dedicate more resources to the fore-shielding.
The LRF’s damaged thrusters were still more than enough to outmaneuver the near mega-ton warship. The fighter’s array fired brightly and arced downward to force the enemy vessel into another change of vector. At this point, the gunship was forced to devote all of its thrusting resources into countering the movements of the more nimble fighter. No forward or reverse thrust was being utilized. It couldn’t. That was the plan.
The downward arc in relation to the gunship’s orientation was a ploy to divert steerage thrust to change rotational direction. The fore section of the gunship was slow to cut rotational velocity and had to almost come to a complete stop by the time the fighter had reached the relative apogee of its arcing maneuver.
The steerage thrusters of the smaller vessel flared to point the nose cone at the gunship’s keel. This time, the distance had been closed, and Throat selected the dual phase electron beam. Normally, this beam would be useless in an exo-atmospheric environment, but Slasher would not be denied.
A pencil beam of energy shielding diverted from the fighter’s hull and created a makeshift tunnel of energy and charged particles. Now the electron beam had a medium by which it could project it’s deadly subatomic payload amidst the vacuum of space.
The beams lanced out and were a sight to see. Normally energy based weapons were invisible in space, but the pseudo-atmospheric tunnel allowed the beam to flare brightly with its concentrated barrage of electrons. The gunship’s shielding flared out in a matter of microseconds. Spaceship engineers never factored in the effects of a strictly atmospheric weapon system, so the shielding collapsed violently.
Throat switched to the plasma cannons. The Gatling Guns in each weapons cradle began to spin at max speed, and bolts of blue plasma peppered the soft underbelly of the enemy ship. Normally the coldness of space would severely limit the range of plasma weapons, so thanks to the good folks at Unum’s industrial complex, each plasma bolt had its own short-lived energy shield to provide insulative properties to the projectiles.
Now the metallic armor of the gunship’s keel would feel the brunt of this deadly recipe of plasma and impact energy. Superheated bits of slag were hurled into space, as thousands of plasma bolts strafed the hull. Defensive turrets exploded before they could line up their own counter fire. Both main fighter bay doors were reduced to molten slag. But all good things must come to an end.
The arcing maneuver had enough momentum to keep an optimum firing line on the gunship’s keel. Especially when the crew of the ship had unwisely elected to try and force the bow of the ship downward to project the shielding. This maneuver helped to increase the time on target for the barrage of plasma to do its job with maximum efficiency. However, the LRF’s velocity would close the firing angle over time.
Now back to a stern shot, the particle beams came to life. The gunship’s thruster array was exposed again, and the beams burned into a tertiary array of docking thrusters. The docking thrusters were for use during flight in the controlled areas of a space station but had very little tactical value. Two of them were heavily damaged before the stern shielding came back to full array.
By now the reactor on the fighter was being taxed. The fighter was designed to prevent overloading the reactor by using a variety of missiles, and ballistic cannons to off-set the energy taxation of sustained energy weapons use. The weapons would now have to go cold. Maneuvering was now the order of the day.
The LRF changed vector, exposed its thruster array to the enemy, and diverted what meager shielding resources it still had to cover their tail. The gunship responded in kind.
The fighter banked to port and then gave a slight zig-zag to the starboard side. The pattern repeated itself in ever decreasing arcs. As was planned, the gunship pointed its bow away from the galactic core, and the ripples of shielding flowed forward once again. Now the LRF was too committed to its velocity and vector to make an abrupt run of the gunship’s thruster array.
Target lock indicators began to light up the cockpit.
<’Conditioned’ them? How?>
[IDENT: Death-Nail, LRF-90 Atmospheric Variant, Unum Registry]
The gunship lurched into an abrupt list, and then a ball of fire burst out of the prow. Burning atmosphere erupted into space, and debris flickered on the HUD’s display in the form of
thousands of proximity warnings.
The Fireball coalesced into a brightly flared energy shield that resembled a comet. The comet-like object rushed passed the Throat-Slasher with seemingly impossible speed, and then was out of visual range seconds later.
A bright flash ignited the blackness of space, and the gunship was no more. A burning husk of slag in the graveyard of the cosmos.
The End… For Now!
Katherine and Marbles are from finished with their adventure. The story continues with Book 3: I Am Vengeance. Please also follow me on Facebook for news and updates on ongoing projects. If kindly would humor me and offer an honest review on Amazon, so other readers can join in the adventure, I’d be grateful. As always, if you want me to keep writing like a mad-man, and bring you more consistent content, then please feel free to buy me a coffee!
-Will Crudge, Pendleton 2018
But Wait! There’s More!
One the next page is a bonus chapter that may or may not be a spoiler alert for you. In the next book, Katherine will intersect the plotline of one of my other books. The difference is that you’ll see it through her eyes. For the adventurous reader, you may enjoy a chapter from my book, United Front, where we meet a new War Master! Read through the next page, or stop right where you are… Your choice, of course!
The Lost Warrior
Location: Blood-Reaper, Berthing Area, Docking Bay, Orbital Habitat, Titan Moon
Date Time: Post Interstellar 10/25/4201 1111HRS UAHC Standard Zulu
System: Sol, Mid Region
Jimma checked her gear one last time before exiting the hatch of the LRF-90. She looked to make sure her power unit on the hilt of her sword was at full charge. Satisfied, she slid it back into the scabbard. She checked her vintage Desert Eagle ballistic pistol and proceeded to rack a round in the chamber before checking her spare magazines. The nickel plated handgun was massive and powerful, and as such, she was more than pleased to bring it along.
“What’s with the wrist-cannon?” Grinder chuckled. “That thing looks like it belongs in one of Val’s museums!”
Jimma just gave the massive K-9 a crooked smile. “It was in one of his museums. My father recovered it from a pirate horde several decades ago, and Val insisted he keeps it to pass along to me.”
Grinder tilted his head in confusion. “Normally, War Masters hand down ancestral swords… I’ve never known any of them to give side-arms as heirlooms.”
“Kindle, help me out here?” Jimma asked. “You know Val better than anyone alive, besides Midas.”
“Sure, dear.” Kindle, the LRF’s NAV, system chimed in. “The ancestral sword that Kindle would have received is long gone. Given the traditional transfer of heirlooms within the War Master lineage, she would have received Kayne’s sword.”
“Oh, I had no idea.” Grinder said as he blinked.
“Can’t receive a sword from a grandparent that vaporized his self AND the sword with it, can I?” Jimma added.
“Well, not vaporized, per say. But certainly not in this plane of existence… whether or not it survived Kayne’s destruction.” Kindle clarified.
As the verbal exchange was underway, Jimma had completed the last of her checks, and then took one last glance at her uniform in the mirror. She gave herself a nod of approval, and then took stock the interior of the cabin one last time.
She had always admired Val’s sense of piety and minimalism, but the skillfully crafted interior of his cabin was a stark contrast to his ideals. The bed’s base was smoothly incorporated into the bulkhead wall, which was adorned with white leather padding, and topped by a dark stained crown molding made of arctic birch wood. The berthing area, which was typical of any LRF-90 hull type or variant, had curved walls that gently transitioned to a slightly domed ceiling, thus making the crown molding strictly decorative. The bright white colors blended with the elaborate wooden accents and made Jimma wonder what Val’s tastes really were.
Val was always known to have few possessions beyond what he wore on his person. He didn’t even consider the Blood-Reaper his own property either. The IDENT codes were vague, and true ownership of the craft was registered in Kindle’s name for legal purposes. But the ancient NAV had been with Val for over a millennia, and he used it as his primary residence more often than not. Jimma knew the ancient monk may be in control of trillions of credits worth of resources, but he accepted no salary for himself.
The wealthiest man in the entire cosmos and he wears hand woven rags. She thought with a smile.
“What’s with the grin, Jimma?” Grinder asked.
“Can’t you feel my intentions, big guy?” She replied as she pets him on the head, and then stepped out of the hatch. The Zodiac perceived her words to be rhetorical, so he declined to respond.
In accordance with her instincts, Jimma scanned the tattered bay and took stock in the relics all around her. Skiffs with dusty tarps partially disassembled private shuttles, and random piles of nondescript ship parts littered the deck. Some spacecraft appeared to be flight worthy, but many others appeared to have been abandoned for decades… or perhaps longer, she supposed. Kindle had told her previously, that Darius lived within this same habitat while he was in inactive status. It was all he could afford with his meager UAHC stipend. Now she understood why.
The pair walked casually for several silent minutes, and Jimma would periodically stop to check the beacon signal on her manual interface. The small interface was dual purpose, and also housed her energy shield array. The beacon’s signal was getting stronger as they went along… as well as their sense of impending danger.
They both expected to be walking into a trap. No other explanation made any sense. Perhaps her enemies knew she would be suspicious, and have that play into their own plan, she supposed. Either way, it was a lead she could not ignore. They’d been tracking the beacon ever since the UAHC Beast had dropped out of slip-space, and it led them to Titan. Nothing about this situation sat well with either of them, but it was their only chance at recovering Shade alive.
Then something popped into their collective awareness. They both froze. Jimma’s instincts took over, and she realized her hand was already around her sword’s grip.
The presence was in-line with one of their kind but still rough around the edges. She was taken back by it. She was expecting to feel the presence of the twins with their genetic gifts in their raw, unaltered state… But this was different. Then movement caught her attention.
A shiny object moved from behind a partially collapse recreational skiff just ahead of them. Then, as if by reflex, Grinder bound forward to flush out the potential threat. Jimma knew it was a cleverly staged distraction, so she feigned interest by keeping her eyes on Grinder. She reached out with her awareness and focused intently on the present. It would save her life.
Without any conscious thought, she drew her sword and blocked a slash from her ambusher. She followed through with a pivoting motion and a follow-up series of slashes of her own. The black-garbed assailant matched her every strike with a parry, slash, and counter slash.
The image of her attacker finally emerged in her field of vision as a woman. Long blonde hair, and roughly her own height and build. She has a War Master’s blade! The realization hit her like a ton of bricks. Jimma quickly slid back into a low stance and brought her sword up to a ready position. Her opponent simply froze in place.
Not only does she have a War Master’s blade, but she’s highly skilled with it! Jimma thought to herself. She noticed her attacker was utilizing highly refined fundamental attack forms and stances but didn’t seem to use anything more advanced. She figured her opponent was either holding back her skills or perhaps hadn’t been introduced to advanced swordplay. She shrugged off her second assertion. Her fundamental form is too precise for someone who hasn’t gone further with their training!
Then Jimma decided to test her theory. Before lunging in for another attac
k, she reached out to Grinder mentally. He seemed to have something cornered. Satisfied that he didn’t appear to be in any immediate danger, she launched her next series of attacks.
First, her slashes were all textbook core maneuvers, and her opponent countered with the same precision as before. This woman is very good indeed. But where did she learn this from?
Jimma paused to lull her attacker into a counter attack, for which Jimma anticipated a specific series of techniques. She was right. Jimma then counters the enemy series of slashes but was surprised how difficult it was to evade being struck. Either I’m rusty at my own core fundamentals, or this woman is the most advanced sword player I’ve ever faced… Perhaps even more advanced than my father!
Jimma then decided she would force her opponent’s hand. She knew all War Masters learned the same core curriculum as far as swordsmanship fundamentals, but each training temple lineage had their own slight variations of more advanced techniques. By choosing a more advanced form, she would force her opponent to reveal the source of her skillset. She lunged into a more advanced series of strikes from the Musashi lineage and became confounded with the result.
Her opponent had no response for the advanced technique at all. She only tried using more core fundamentals but failed to block the final strike. Jimma’s blade batted away her opponent’s sword with ease, and now the cutting edge of her blade rested motionless within a few millimeters of her attacker’s nose.
The woman stood motionless, and her bright blue eyes were flared in surprise. Jimma tilted her head out of curiosity at this point. She saw no fear in the woman. She was noticeably startled, but not fearful. Then her attacker finally spoke.
“I surrender.” The woman’s soft, but a confident voice broke the silence.
“Who are you?” Jimma asked sternly.
“My name is Katherine.” She replied. “Can you please call off your Zodiac? I’d prefer my friend remain in one piece if it’s all the same to you?”