Séadna
Legendary Pubber
- Joined
- Sep 3, 2018
- Messages
- 6,435
- Reaction score
- 14,652
Once more Potter finds himself strapped into a strike sphere.
Above him, on the roof from his perspective, is the new recruit "Griff". Straight out of the academy but with stellar results. On one of the first missions of his career he'd managed to successfully blow open a pirate ship hull, knock out the crew with the blast and yet somehow leave their hostages untouched.
On the wall to his right the medic, Ling Zhou. Best in her class as well, especially so when it came to biochemistry. Only a year ago she'd taken down the base of one of the organ lords of the Argen reach, regrowing her own leg mid-mission, before beating the ten foot lord into the ground with strength gained from a concoction of her own making.
They had both been handpicked for the mission.
On the other wall, Lieutenant Rodríguez. He and Potter had both survived the Chang-o incident years ago. The fame had propelled Potter's career, but only added to the top brass's jealousy for Raúl's rising star and popularity. He had received updates now and then on Raúl's new career patrolling the space lanes of the Angelus system. The higher ups had to swallow their pride when this newest incident came to light. Potter and Raúl were the closest marines, former or not, with the right experience.
Potter taps the holographic display on his right. He reads over the mission briefing as he watches the stars tumble outside the window behind Ling.
A pleasure cruiser, The White Mare, had exited jump four days ago a bit of a distance from the edge of the Ardashir system. Like most ships it had intended to jump to the system to refuel at the mega gas giant Ardashir A1 or "Pitstop" as it was known to many long haul freight captains.
Unfortunately the cruiser had exited its jump erratically and was now on a collision course with Pitstop's southern hemisphere. It's abnormal velocity meant the collision would create a fireball that'd leave Pitstop unusable for the next century.
The last transmission from the crew was the Vice-Captain roaring about something embedded in the hull. He managed to say very little of content before an eight fingered hand smashed his face into the console. The audio feed continued for a few minutes with a high pitched wailing. The boys and girls in xenology had determined it was a sapient language.
Mission objective was to seize control of the ship and prevent the impact in some way. Blowing her out of the sky would just leave a debris on course with a barely changed velocity and the nearest proper military cruiser was a week away. Saving any surviving civilians was a secondary objective.
Then the sphere's computer blares a warning
MATCHING VELOCITY. PREPARE FOR IMPACT.
A crunching sound as layers of hull and superstructure are ripped open. Then a jolt as the sphere stops. Finally a gentle hiss and the door opens.
Looking out all four of them see they are hanging from the ceiling of a ballroom. There's the main dance floor itself, three concentric rings of blue velvet viewing seats and corridors leading out at two, six and ten o'clock. The bodies of about thirty people lie about the room. Most are beaten to death with caved in skulls and torsos, but one seems melted. Fused with their seat. The slow music still plays.
Above him, on the roof from his perspective, is the new recruit "Griff". Straight out of the academy but with stellar results. On one of the first missions of his career he'd managed to successfully blow open a pirate ship hull, knock out the crew with the blast and yet somehow leave their hostages untouched.
On the wall to his right the medic, Ling Zhou. Best in her class as well, especially so when it came to biochemistry. Only a year ago she'd taken down the base of one of the organ lords of the Argen reach, regrowing her own leg mid-mission, before beating the ten foot lord into the ground with strength gained from a concoction of her own making.
They had both been handpicked for the mission.
On the other wall, Lieutenant Rodríguez. He and Potter had both survived the Chang-o incident years ago. The fame had propelled Potter's career, but only added to the top brass's jealousy for Raúl's rising star and popularity. He had received updates now and then on Raúl's new career patrolling the space lanes of the Angelus system. The higher ups had to swallow their pride when this newest incident came to light. Potter and Raúl were the closest marines, former or not, with the right experience.
Potter taps the holographic display on his right. He reads over the mission briefing as he watches the stars tumble outside the window behind Ling.
A pleasure cruiser, The White Mare, had exited jump four days ago a bit of a distance from the edge of the Ardashir system. Like most ships it had intended to jump to the system to refuel at the mega gas giant Ardashir A1 or "Pitstop" as it was known to many long haul freight captains.
Unfortunately the cruiser had exited its jump erratically and was now on a collision course with Pitstop's southern hemisphere. It's abnormal velocity meant the collision would create a fireball that'd leave Pitstop unusable for the next century.
The last transmission from the crew was the Vice-Captain roaring about something embedded in the hull. He managed to say very little of content before an eight fingered hand smashed his face into the console. The audio feed continued for a few minutes with a high pitched wailing. The boys and girls in xenology had determined it was a sapient language.
Mission objective was to seize control of the ship and prevent the impact in some way. Blowing her out of the sky would just leave a debris on course with a barely changed velocity and the nearest proper military cruiser was a week away. Saving any surviving civilians was a secondary objective.
Then the sphere's computer blares a warning
MATCHING VELOCITY. PREPARE FOR IMPACT.
A crunching sound as layers of hull and superstructure are ripped open. Then a jolt as the sphere stops. Finally a gentle hiss and the door opens.
Looking out all four of them see they are hanging from the ceiling of a ballroom. There's the main dance floor itself, three concentric rings of blue velvet viewing seats and corridors leading out at two, six and ten o'clock. The bodies of about thirty people lie about the room. Most are beaten to death with caved in skulls and torsos, but one seems melted. Fused with their seat. The slow music still plays.
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