ABANDON SHIP! ABANDON
SHIP! ALL HANDS TO ESCAPE PODS!
I groaned as the darkness slowly gave way to the red-tinted
hallway before me. “Wha--?”
ABANDON SHIP! ABANDON
SHIP! ALL HANDS TO ESCAPE PODS!
Blinking a couple times to clear the spots from my eyes, I
looked around, and remembered where I was. Deck 10, Section 13, Port Side, Crew
Quarters. The CNS Cumberland. We
were… fighting. The X’thari. That’s right. We were under attack from X’thari
Raiders. We were a Kinseki-class
Battle Cruiser. Not as heavily armed or armored as a battleship, but able to
hold our own against pretty much anything smaller than that. At least, in a
straight fight, we could. X’thari didn’t believe in straight fights. They’d come
at us with eight of their Mothak
light cruisers.
The Mothak was a
capital ship hunter. Oh sure, it had some point defense to ward off fighters,
and a few turret guns and missile tubes, but the ship was little more than an
engine to push around the massive Charged Wave Cannon the bastards carried
running down the centerline of their ship. A hit or two from one of those could
take out a battleship’s shields if they got lucky, and against an unprotected
hull? They were death itself.
Of course, they had problems, too. You had to line your ship
up to take the shot, like an old blue-water navy submarine. The cannon was slow
to recharge, taking over two minutes between shots. And the range was a
light-minute, at most, but if you wanted to be sure of a hit, you had to either
take your opponent napping, or get in knife range, so they couldn’t dodge.
But the Mothak
class was a helluvalot cheaper to build, man, and maintain than a Kinseki-class, to say nothing of the
heavier battleships or fleet carriers. Which is why the X’thari could afford to
send the damned things in packs, like wolves. They’d stagger their shots and
constantly maneuver as if they were ready to take their shot, to keep you
guessing about where the threat was coming from. If you were lucky, you’d get a
group of rookies that shot their load in order, and then fired again the second
their weapons were charged. That was still a bad deal when you were going eight
to one, but being predictable was fatal if your commander knew how to dance.
Captain Walther could waltz with the best of them, but we
weren’t going against any rookies, but the Thrush Squadron, the elite of the
X’thari forces. The bastards were legends, the best of the best of the Raider
fleet. We had them out massed and out gunned, and the Cap’n managed to keep
them from killing us outright, dodging most of the beams with some insane
maneuvers. Still, two hit the shields, taking them down, and then one clipped
the port hull but good on the second round.
Which explained why I had my bell rung, and was coming to in
this compartment with that annoying hissing sound trying to drown out the
alarms. Oh, fuck. That was a breach! I was already moving before I even really
registered what was happening, ripping open the emergency locker, and already a
foot into an emergency suit.
Suited up, I took stock of my gear. Environmental suit, 98%
integrity, 6 hours on the oxygen. 12 if I carry the backup tank. Standard
adaptive multitool, full charge. Basic cyberdeck. Basic plasma thrower, 100%
integrity, energy for 15 shots in the clip, and three spare clips. Magnetic
grapple for zero-g maneuvers. Class I Dimensional Storage device, rated for 150
lbs. Emergency Nano-Med Pack, 3 uses remaining. Not great, but it’ll do.
Now, if only I could get to the escape pods before someone
decided to blow the ship out from under my feet.
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