New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!

---

“Glad you could make it, ExCom,” Pirra said to Urle as he led his team into Engineering.

“Same,” he replied, taking her hand and shaking it.  “You did good work securing this place, Lt. Commander.  Any attempts by them to retake it?”

“No sir.  We’ve been pinging the hall, but we’ve detected no movement.”  She looked around, annoyed and antsy.  “It doesn’t make much sense.  There should be thousands of pirates on this ship, yet we’ve encountered only a fraction of that.  Those ones dogged us every step of the way, but I was expecting ambushes of dozens, not handfuls.  Where are they?”

“We haven’t seen many, either, they barely contested our landing.”  Urle shrugged.  “But we need to press on.  My team will hold this area, your team will be our escorts.”

“Aye,” Pirra said, giving him a salute.  She turned to round up her troops, and Urle ordered the leader of his squad to take up their positions.  Team Four were not Team One in terms of skill or experience, but they could handle this, he had no doubt.

Apollonia was squatting next to a dark console, staring off into space when he approached her.

“Hey, Apple, you doing all right?” he asked, then mentally chided himself on using her nickname.

She took several moments before she looked up.  “I’m fine,” she said.  Her face, through her transparent face shield, was blank.

She might have been in shock, he thought.  She should never have been sent here . . .

But she was here and so he would keep her safe.

“We’re going to move out,” he said.  “Do you feel anything strange?”

She took a long time replying again.  “Yes,” she finally said.

Urle considered.  “Can you tell if it’s near the hostages?”

She gave him a slightly confused look, as if to ask how she might know such a precise detail, but to his surprise she said again; “Yes.”

He felt his heart sink.  “So if we find this . . . strangenes, we’ll find them?  Do you think you can tell where it is?”

She nodded.

Pirra approached from behind him.  “We’re ready.”

Urle turned and gave her a nod, but then looked back to Apollonia.  She still seemed so distracted and it was concerning him.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said, looking up at him, her expression quizzical, as if she was noticing him for the first time.  She got up to her feet.  “This armor sucks, though.”

Urle felt a little relieved to hear her sounding more normal.  “Okay, point us the right way, and we’ll be off.”

Apollonia pointed towards one of the sealed doors.  “We should go through there.”

“Open it,” Pirra ordered.  She turned to the other squad commander.  “Seal it again behind us.”

“Are you sure?” the commander asked.  “What if you need to pull back?”

“I want to make sure this position stays secure,” she told him.  “It’s a priority.”  She glanced to Urle, who nodded in agreement.

“We’ll be fine,” Urle said.

Kiseleva and two others went forward, breaking the door seal.  The rest of the squad took up positions in case it opened on unfriendlies.

“There’s no one out there,” Apollonia said.

Urle was glad to hear that, but found himself disinclined to ask her more.

The door opened.  The room beyond was empty.

“Move out!” Pirra said.

Pirra took the fore with one of her soldiers, the bulk of the dozen Response officers around them.  Kiseleva and Suon stuck by them as a personal guard.

The room, a prepping area for artillery shells, had several more doors, and Apollonia indicated one that would lead them deeper into the ship.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, sounding weary.

They took positions and opened the door, but like the prepping room, it was empty.

Urle could understand why the room was empty; no one wanted to have a firefight around explosives.  But this hall had no such problem, and that bothered him.

The lighting down it was dim, and he scanned it through multiple spectra.  The lights grew dimmer in every way the deeper they went.  Even in infrared, which didn’t make all that much sense.

“Move,” he said.  “Be cautious.”

Drones swept in, pinging and searching for ambushers.

“Scan’s coming up negative,” Kiseleva told them.

They moved swiftly down the hall.  Apollonia directed them through more doors, sometimes cutting through small rooms and using makeshift doors that the pirates had added themselves.

She was unerring, Urle thought.  She wasn’t just leading them randomly, he realized, they were moving in a direction, and she knew where all the doors were even before they saw them.

A chill went down his spine and he checked his logs.  There were a growing number of errors.  Minor, his system was correcting them, but the number was far above the norm, even when he was running extra equipment.

As was known to happen when hardware was exposed to krahteons.

“Switch to K-Mode,” he ordered his system.

Hard-gotten experience had taught the Union that the more powerful and complex a computer system was, the more vulnerable it was to krahteonic interference.  So he shut down as many extraneous systems as he could, switching portions of his code to simpler and more robust forms.  It cut down his processing power by nearly a third, but . . .

He had a feeling he was going to need the protection.

---

< Ep 10 Part 31 | Ep 10 Part 33 >

New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!

---

“One minute until impact,” Urle called.

Apollonia shifted, her fear outweighing even her embarrassment at her current situation.

Everyone else in the pod was in a normal seat and harness, but hers . . . well, it was so ludicrously big and protective that it made her feel like a little kid.

Because she didn’t have the same enhancements as the others she got this monstrosity . . .  Though maybe it would keep her alive.

Just keep breathing and don’t think about that, she told herself.

At least her training with Kiseleva had helped with her helmet phobia.  So far she’d only thrown up once, and it had been controlled enough that she hadn’t choked.

Thank fuck for the stupid suction hose.

Only adding to it was the armor.  It felt like a spacesuit but bulkier, and despite their best efforts it didn’t feel like it fit her right.  They had said it was measured to her specifications perfectly, but she disagreed.

That was probably just her contrarian nature.

“Brace for impact,” Urle called.

The braking rockets fired, slowing them, and she suddenly felt like she weighed five hundred kilos.

Apollonia braced as much as she could, the fear rising again in her stomach.  She was going into a combat zone, she’d never been in combat, she was going to get shot and there would be blood and her guts everywhere and she’d-

Despite the braking, the impact was still jarring.

“Everyone all right?” Urle called, but Apollonia knew it was mainly her he was asking about.  She alone did not have full-body sensors implanted to tell them every heartbeat.

“I’m fine,” she said, her voice hoarse.

Urle unhooked, coming over and waving a sensor wand over her.  “You’re good,” he said.

“I just said that,” she muttered as her harness released.

She still felt thrown off by the hard stop.  It had to have been at least a few hard Gs.

The Response team pressed forward, crouching behind heavy shields on treads.  Small smart slits could shutter closed if they saw a bullet incoming, and the walls carried their own guardian turrets for stopping incoming projectiles.

She fingered her helmet again, hoping it was really proof against the flying shrapnel.

The door suddenly slammed open as the laser drills finished burning through the hull.  She heard a whoompf of air that faded rapidly as the air blasted out through the loose seal.

“Forward!” she heard the commander yell.  The shields and troops surged in.

Urle had his own shield, lighter than the others but still looking massive and heavy, attached to his left arm.  He kept it in front of her.  Mechanical limbs came up off his back, four of them – two guardian guns and the other two offensive weapons.

“Go, go!” he said, slapping her on the back.  He moved forward in a rapid crouch and she tried to emulate it.

There was gunfire outside, but it was sparse.  By the time they were out, it had already stopped.

“Only two hostiles nearby, both unprepared,” the Response commander said.

“Good work,” Urle replied.  “I’m sending the drones ahead to find us a clear route to Team One.  We’ll be . . .”

His words faded from her consciousness.  She still saw him talking, saw the Response officers moving, but she felt suddenly like this was only something she was watching.  An old 2D, but muted.

“Apollonia?” Urle said.  Her name sounded muffled.

“Are you there?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” she said automatically, without intonation.  It sounded just as muffled as the other words.

“With me, then,” Urle said.  He moved off, and it felt like an enormous effort to make herself move with him.

She wondered, dispassionately, was this fear?

---

< Ep 10 Part 30 | Ep 10 Part 32 >

New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!

---

They fought for every meter down the corridors of the pirate ship.

The layout of this type of ship had been uploaded to their system, but the pirates had made changes; cutting doors where none existed, sealing others.

And from unexpected places they would come roaring out, firing madly.

They were not organized, they were not accurate, but they would not stop.

Her unit pressed forward towards engineering, burning through ammo and leaving behind them the dead pirates.  Not a single one had surrendered or even fled.

“Drones are bringing more ammo up,” Kiseleva called.

“Keep going,” Pirra said.  “It’ll be more dangerous to lose our momentum.”  They still had enough ammo for another fight.

Sky, Greggan decor was ugly, she thought as they rushed down the hall.  She wasn’t sure if they saw into the same spectra that she did, but the patterns that they seemed to prefer reflected light into the ultraviolet, and it left them looking mottled and disgusting.

The doors to Engineering had been welded shut from the inside; a glowing bit of metal protruded through the door seal, leaving it still slightly open, but not enough to see through.  Not that she was about to go sticking her face into the crack to check; far too likely someone had their gun jammed there hoping for just that sort of sloppiness.

“Ambush!” the call came, and Pirra whirled.

A dozen Greggans rushed them from panels that were disguised as bulkheads.  She realized now that she could see the edges.  There were more panels like it ahead, and as her squad engaged the attackers, she whirled, spraying through the panels that hadn’t been dropped yet.

She heard guttural cries of pain, one of the panels slipping, revealing the heavy turret that the Greggans had hidden there.

It was a good trap, really.  Distract them from one way, unleash from behind and mow them down.

She fired until her magazine was dry, riddling not just the Greggans in hiding but their weapon, to make sure it couldn’t be turned against them later.

“Pirra, behind you!” Suon called.

She whirled, seeing the massive Greggan rushing her.  She had no shots left.

“Reloading!” Pirra called out, her magazine ejecting and her belt popping the next one up into easy reach.  She slapped it in, the bolt slamming forward and she fired from the hip, taking the Greggan in the belly, her aim dropping further, ripping into his legs.

Greggans were sort of quadrapeds; their two larger forelegs did most of the pushing while smaller limbs on their tail-like rears helped with balance.  He could not keep his as his forelegs were shredded, and screamed horribly as he began to crash forward.

Pirra couldn’t move in time as his bulk slammed into her, crashing her into the wall.

Her head hit hard, and she felt a strange sensation as the trauma gel helped cushion her brain.

The Greggan was bleeding badly, gasping for breath, but he still clawed at her armor, his sharp nails catching on edges but unable to make a mark.  His huge mouth opened wide, and he bit onto her helmet, throat spasming as if he was trying to swallow her entire head.

She was screaming; not in fear, but anger.

How fucking dare this son of a shit?!

Her combat knife was in her hand now, rifle clattering away, and she stabbed the cerametal blade into his gut, jerking it up with all her strength.

His screams turned to gurgles as she gutted him, his entrails falling into her lap.

“Pirra!” Mac Mordha called, grabbing at the corpse.  The Greggan was nearly three meters in height, and it took the two of them to shove it off.

She jumped back from the corpse, body heaving with breath, her heart beating so fast it felt almost like a hum.  The entrails of the Greggan slid off her onto the floor, leaving her armor slick with dark ichor.

“Are you all right, Commander?”

“Yes!” she said, feeling the enraged energy of adrenaline.  Her system told her that the rest of her team were all still active.  “I’m fine, get your rifle and follow me!”

Scooping up her own, she saw that the ammo drones had arrived and reached up, fresh magazines being placed into her hand.

“Blow the door!” she ordered.

Kiseleva called out an order, sending forward half a dozen demo drones.  They smashed themselves into the door at strategic points.

“Ready to open!” Kiseleva called.

“Take cover, blow it, then send in the flashdrones!” Pirra ordered.

The squad took cover, and the door was blown; it began to fall in, and a dozen other tiny drones swarmed through the gap into the room beyond.  The flashes and booms of their explosions could be felt more than seen.

Before the door had even hit the floor she was jumping through the gap.

The Greggans inside had taken defensive positions, but the explosions and the flashdrones had worked well.

It was a brief but vicious fight.  None surrendered.

She almost regretted that she didn’t have a chance to use her combat knife again.  It was adrenaline, she knew, but she still hadn’t sheathed it, sticking it onto her magnetic wrist carrier for quick access.

“Secure the room,” she ordered, her unit fanning out.  They scanned carefully, looking for hidden enemies, secret doors, or false panels.

“Nothing present, we got them all!” Jack Lal called.

Kiseleva went to the main console, scanning it.  “No traps detected,” she said.  “Still could exist, be careful.”

The other doors had been welded shut as well.  That meant they only had one way to defend.

“Mwanajuma, treat any injuries,” Pirra ordered their medic. “Zivai, Suon, cover that hall.  I don’t want your eyes off it.”

“Aye!” the two marksmen called, taking up positions.

Kiseleva raised an arm.  “I am into their system – we’ve got control of engines, life support, and external weapons!”

A surge of triumph rushed through Pirra.  “Shut them all down, scramble the whole system if you can.”

She turned to Sharam Najafi, their comms officer.  “Tell the Craton that we’ve secured engineering and that we have not encountered anything out of the ordinary.”

“Aye!”

Pirra felt the adrenaline starting to wane, and she sat back on a console that was dark.

Her head still felt weird where the pre-trauma gel had prevented a concussion.

Sky, she was going to have a hell of a headache tomorrow.

---

< Ep 10 Part 29 | Ep 10 Part 31 >

New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!

---

“We have established a beachhead, Craton.  Repeat, beachhead established.”

When they’d cut through the hull and boarded, they’d encountered minimal resistance.  Venting the compartment was a pretty normal side effect from the boarding; you could do it quick or neat, but not both.

Which hadn’t been good for the pirates in the area.  Two Greggan bodies lay on the deck, their eyes bloodshot from the loss of atmosphere.

Their drones had flooded in first, attacking the real threat; the enemy defensive drones.

The pirates did not have the best; most were cobbled together, more offensive than defensive, the kind of thing that could be dumped en masse into a ship they were attacking.

Against the Craton‘s drones they hadn’t stood a chance.

The bulkheads were pock-marked from the battle, and shattered pieces of drone covered the deck.  Pirra had to sweep them out of the way with her feet as she walked.

“We’re detecting movement ahead,” Kiseleva said.

“That’ll be the counter-attack,” she replied.  “Positions.  Time to defend the advance.  As soon as they break, we move for engineering.”

She only had six; they had yet to link up with the second half of the squad, and so they’d just have to make do.

Makeshift barriers were erected; the honeycombed metal wasn’t perfect proof against small-arms, but it was better than nothing.

She took her position, three facing left and three right.  They did not know which way the pirates might come from.

“Contact!” she yelled as a door burst open.  Air rushed in an explosive burst, carrying with it a hint of a battle-cry.  The Greggan pirates staggered out, firing rapidly, their weapons large-bore and dangerous.

But they did not have nearly as much in their defense.  Few Guardian drones and light armor.

Pirra’s rifle kicked against her shoulder, the sound carrying through her body to her ears, firing bursts that punched through their suits and armor, sending mists of pale blood into the air.

A shot hit her shoulder, throwing her aim and staggering her back, but didn’t break plate.  Her system screamed about fractures in her shoulder, and it hurt like hell.  Her suit shot her full of a painkiller before the momentum from the hit even finished knocking her back, and the pain began to die down as quick as it had started.

She’d get it patched later.  She fired again, her aim a little wobbly, but at close range it hardly mattered.

The Greggan counter-attack broke; they did not flee, but seemed to become confused, some trying to seek cover, others trying to rush the barricades.

Neither party met with success.

“Hold fire!” Pirra called out.  The last of the Greggans had gone down, a dozen holes punched through him.

There was no sound in the vacuum, but she could still feel vibrations through the floor.  There was a stillness now that seemed to indicate no one else approaching.

“Team two, status?” she called over the radio.

“We’ve fought off a handful of attackers.  Threw themselves at us,” Sgt. Hesson answered.  “We’re ready to move to your position.”

The drone patrols between their breaching points indicated the path was clear.  “Move out,” she ordered.

“Response Two,” she called up.  “Status?”

“We’ve linked up,” their commander called.  “Ready to move out.”

“Team three?”

“We are down to half-strength since one of the pods was hit,” the reply came.  “We are willing to move out on our own to capture the armory.”

“Negative,” Pirra said.  “Meet up with Team Two, reinforce their push into the engine room.  We do not want them even attempting a jump into zerospace.”

“Understood.  Moving to meet with Team Two.”

Team three’s original objective could wait.  It was riskier for them to let the pirates continue to be able to access their armory, but they didn’t have solid enough intel on its location; long-distance scans could only tell you so much about the inside of a ship and it was mostly a guess.

“Team One,” she called over the radio to the rest of her unit.  “As soon as the other half of the squad arrives, we move.”

---

“Two more missile launchers have launched,” Jaya said.

Explosions bloomed all across the view of the asteroid; some the destruction of launcher sites or impacts from the Craton‘s own missiles, others the missiles that the asteroid station continued to produce and launch at seemingly random points.

Perhaps some were being just chucked out of airlocks, Brooks mused.

The Craton had moved very close to the asteroid; only five hundred kilometers out, the defenses had to react to each new attack swiftly.  So far, nothing had gotten through, and even if they did – most of this ordinance lacked enough energy to cause much damage.

But he was more worried that they might start targeting the pirate flagship.  So far they hadn’t, and he had put the Craton between the two, but that could change.

“We cannot pinpoint the launch point,” Jaya said.  “Launching cluster missile barrages – we’ll take it out.”

“Are we still broadcasting for their surrender?” Brooks asked.

“Aye, Captain,” Eboh said.  “No response.”

“We’ve given them plenty of chances, and I think they’re going to keep finding ways to throw missiles or something at us,” Brooks said.

“We have confirmed incidents of individuals with small arms coming out of airlocks and firing at the ship,” Jaya said dryly.  “I do not think they are inclined to surrender.”

“Charge the coilguns.  Put a shot through the asteroid.  I want it to come out the other side.”

“Why through, Captain?  It will not efficiently carry its energy into the target.” Cenz asked.

“No.  But it will send a message,” Brooks replied.

Jaya called out.  “Coilguns are charged.”

“Fire,” Brooks said.

It was a heavy charge; the recoil of the firing could be felt, but the effect was tremendous.

The shot pierced straight through the asteroid and out the other side; it carried on briefly, glowing with heat before fading into the blackness of space.

“Broadcast a new message,” Brooks ordered.  “Tell them that we will break their asteroid apart with our next barrage.”

Eboh stared at Brooks for a moment before nodding and turning back.

Less than a minute passed before a return signal came.

“Captain,” Eboh said.  “They are offering their surrender.”

“Tell them that if any more attacks are launched, we will proceed,” Brooks told him.

“They promise there will be no more,” Eboh continued.  “From the gunfire I’m hearing, it seems they are enforcing this promise.”

Brooks nodded, and messaged Urle.

“We’ve got the station’s fire under control.  Take the second wave on over to the flagship.  And Urle . . . ?”

“Yes, Captain?” Urle called back.

“Make sure Apollonia stays safe,” Brooks told him.

“I will,” his friend promised.

---

< Ep 10 Part 28 | Ep 10 Part 30 >

New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!

---

“The target vessel is crippled,” The controller’s voice came through Pirra’s headset.  “Prepare for launch in one-minute.”

Taking a deep breath, Pirra braced herself.

They weren’t going out of the coilguns, those had to be kept clear for combat.  Instead they were in bays normally used for drop pods, like the kind they had been sending down to the damaged colonies.  The normal pods had been taken out, and replaced with boarding pods, which were sturdier, with some defensive systems and better maneuvering thrusters –  as well as grapples and blast-cutters for slicing into an enemy ship’s hull.

In other bays, twenty-nine other pods were readying for launch.

Her squad was split between 1 and 2, with the next two squads in 3, 4, 5, and 6.  The remainder were empty; decoys for enemy fire, containing only drones.

If they made it, good.  But if they died and the teams all made it, they would have done their job.

“Launching in thirty seconds,” the call came.

“All sticks green,” Pirra’s system told her.

“Enemy PDCs and navigational lasers are disabled,” Jaya’s voice came through.  “Launch will still be slightly hot; there are numerous weapons installations on the nearby asteroid that we are still dealing with.  There may be errant fire, but we do not expect them to target the pods.”

“Understood,” Pirra replied.

The automated launch system spoke again.  “Ten seconds until launch.”

She heard her team breathing, bracing themselves for G-Shock.

“All packaged and ready to go!” Kiseleva yelled.

“And ship us off to hell!” the rest of the squad roared.

“Launching in 3 . . . 2 . . . 1.”

Pirra braced, straining every muscle; then the G-shock came and she was crushed back.

It was not the swift ramp-up of the coilgun when used to launch a shuttle.  It was an explosive burst of a hard thirty Gs, enough to black out even the heavily trained and augmented Response veterans.  That was, if they weren’t prepared.

Even with all her augments she felt herself almost black out.  Fighting as hard as she could, she kept herself awake.

As her vision returned, she checked the vitals of her teams.  Only two of them had lapsed in consciousness on any of the pods.  None of them in Team One.  Out of thirty-six, that was good.

“We are en route,” she called out.  Then, to her system, she ordered; “Show external forward view.”

Her view became as if the pod around them did not exist.  And it was a damned war zone.

Flashing tracers from PDCs streamed through space, and she was thrown in her seat again as her pod broke left, dodging something – she couldn’t even see what it was.

Looking back, the Craton still loomed, eating huge amounts of fire into her frontal cone.  The pirates on the asteroid base were firing literally everything they had; her system counted down the types of flak and she saw everything from artillery shells to small arms being fired.

The armor of the Craton was too hard for any such thing, she thought, even as something hit it and exploded, leaving behind the tiniest of craters and a lot of carbon scoring.  A laser raked across it next, with little effect.

The Craton was returning fire in deadly salvos, launching clusters of missiles, pulses of laser that only showed up in infrared, and bursts of PDC fire, striking enemy weapons and their shells en route in equal measure.

Dead ahead was the pirate ship, only a few scattered lights showing.  She could see at once the blackened scar where the coilguns had knocked out its zerodrive, and the smoking mess that had once been its engines.  Other craters along its side had once been PDCs or lasers or missile launchers.

Even as she watched, one PDC on it roared to life, firing a long burst towards the Craton, but before it even finished a missile slammed into it, blowing it apart.

“Incoming fire, incoming fire!” an alarm blared.

She saw the line of tracers, saw them hit one of their pods, shredding one whole side off.  Her eyes widened and her heart stopped, but as it spun from the impact, she saw thousands of tiny drones spilling out, and breathed a sigh of relief.  It was not one of the teams.

“Pod five is hit!  Pod five is hit!” came a call.

She twisted again, seeing metal puffing out into a cloud from the side.  A navigational laser had hit it, the pulsed beam exploding the metal into plasma.

“Craton, Pod Five is down!” she called.

“We see it.  Rescue drones en route.  You have fifteen seconds to impact.  Good skill, come back alive,” Kai said.

“Brace for impact,” Pirra said, breathing hard and fast to prepare for the landing.  “And give them hell.”

---

< Ep 10 Part 26 | Ep 10 Part 28 >

New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!

---

“Surfacing in 3 . . . 2 . . . 1!”

Reality coalesced on the screen as they returned to the mundane universe, and Brooks leaned forward in his seat.  He scanned the screen for their enemy.  Though the sensors and computers far exceeded his own abilities, in this case they were not even necessary.

Before them in space, seemingly still in the void, was a dark asteroid, a rogue body.

From the surface of the rock glittered lights of a crude base, built onto the surface, and in orbit around it were ships.

They had found the pirate base.

The command center burst into action.

“All combat drones launching!” Zhu called.  “Twenty-five seconds until full coverage!”

The drones were spat out from high-speed launchers like torpedos, braking themselves and spreading quickly into formation.

“Get targeting solutions and prepare to launch missiles,” Jaya ordered.

“Dark, we’re right on top of them,” Urle hissed, shifting the defensive systems to a close-range configuration.

“Range?” Brooks asked.

“We are less than five thousand kilometers from the asteroid,” Cenz reported.

“The four smaller vessels are targeting us, Captain,” Jaya said.  “They have launched missiles.”

“We do not have full drone coverage, repeat, we do not have full coverage!” Zhu called out.

Brooks could see missiles streaming towards them; he counted a dozen, then two, then stopped trying.

“Put what drones we have into as good a formation as we can and get all point-defense weapons targeting.  Can we get our missiles out before we light them up?”

“Negative, Captain,” Jaya said.  “Our missiles will be passing theirs as we are in our full defensive salvo.”

Cenz chimed in.  “I expect we’d destroy or damage at least one third of our own missiles.”

“Then hold fire,” Brooks said.  “We’ll defend this salvo, and then follow up with our own before they can get a second round off.”

He looked back to the enemy ships.  The four small pirate ships were modified to have an outsized number of missiles ports, barely more than flying weapons platforms.

But their big ship was doing nothing.

“What is their flagship doing?” he asked.

Cenz hesitated.  “The largest vessel has only passive sensors and has registered no changes since our arrival.”

Leaning back in his chair, Brooks gave the order.  “When we launch our missiles, target the lead vessel, aim to disable its zerodrive.  I don’t want them escaping.”

“It’s barely maneuvering,” Jaya said.  “We can use the coilguns.”

“Good,” Brooks said.  “Fire as soon as you have a solution.”

The enemy missile hit the outer ranges of the defensive grid, with small flashes of light blinking brightly as individual missiles were ripped apart by pulsed laser fire.

“Their missiles are barely maneuvering,” Urle said.  “They’re low-quality, or . . .”  he trailed off.

“Firing solution achieved!” Jaya said.  “Firing!”

The ship shuddered as the coilgun was fired, a brief flash of light from the frontal cone as the hyper-accelerated slug was launched.

“Thirty-seven seconds until impact,” Jaya called.  “So long as she doesn’t make a maneuver, we’ll hit her.  And even if we miss we’ll hit their base.”

Another missile flared as it exploded, but something was different about the flash.  He was about to ask, but then the entire command center shuddered.

“What just hit us?” he demanded.  None of the missiles had reached them yet.

“Impact on the frontal cone!” Jaya called.  “Whatever the hell it was, it pierced the armor and went almost a hundred meters deep!”

“Ship response teams en route,” Kai called.

“But what the hell was it?” Brooks demanded.

“Nuclear lance!” Urle called.  “I think the other missiles are decoys to cover them!”

More flashes came on the screen.

“Brace for-” Brooks began.

The ship rocked again, and he was thrown in his seat, emergency straps catching him.

“More lances detonating!” Urle cried.

“Damage report; Cenz said.  “We have multiple punctures through the frontal cone, digging up to twenty decks deep.  Multiple decks and compartments facing depressurization!”

He turned.  “Captain, if they get a lucky hit from the right angle they could reach and puncture one of our reactors – including Reactor Seven.”

Where the Star Angel Ambassador, Jophiel lived.

“Some of the material they’re leaving behind is radioactive,” Jaya said.  “Rushing emergency drones and teams.”

Brooks let out an angry hiss through his teeth.  “Figure out which ones are the lances and target them!  I don’t want any to get through!”

“How the hell do we tell?” Jaya asked.

“They’ve got to be bigger than the others,” Urle said.  “Cenz, scan for rad signatures – there’s no way they’re shielding these things well.  They’re full of weapons-grade uranium!”

“Scanning,” Cenz said.

“More missiles incoming!” Jaya called.

“Got ’em!” Urle called.  “Targeting!”

The lasers redirected, and the point-defense cannons began to spray fire.

One of the lances detonated; there was a bright flash that the screen dimmed to tolerable levels.

Another followed suit, then another.  The other missiles came through, only a handful even exploding.

“Their decoy missiles are hitting,” Cenz said.  “Mostly just crumpling with minor impact damage – it seems they were just empty launches to give us more targets.”

“Now we know what they wanted the fissionable material for,” Jaya said.  “The impact sites on the ship suggest they were accelerating tungsten plates.”

“The blast would have turned them to plasma,” Urle said.  “Christ, the Sepht still use these but hardly anyone else has for centuries.  Too easy to shoot down . . .”

“Yes, but a surprise that took us off-guard.  We certainly did not expect them,” Brooks said, frowning.  “They’ll be launching more.  Be on-guard.  How bad is our damage?”

Jaya looked at the data for a moment.  “Despite the venting, the damage is not severe – some important systems were cut, but we have successfully re-routed.”  She sighed, her shoulders lowering slightly.  “We have three dead and ten injured.  Thankfully, most personnel are in the aft of the ship right now.”

“Shipboard response teams are on-site now, Captain,” Kai called.  “All vented spaces are now sealed and secured – we are focusing on the radioactive waste before we begin full clean-up.”

Brooks leaned forward, steepling his fingers.  “Launch our missiles, full salvo at the smaller ships.  I want these pirate ships dead in space.”

Their return fire was overwhelming.  The point-defense weapons of the pirate ships lashed out, but sporadically and ultimately, ineffectual.  The Craton‘s missiles swarmed in, creating blooming fireballs across the vessels, taking out vital systems and venting their atmospheres.

“Ship C is taking a pounding – she’s exploding!” Urle said.

One of the pirate ships lit up the darkness, even casting a glow onto the asteroid base far beyond.

Jaya arched an eyebrow.  “Perhaps one of the lances prematurely detonated.”

“Another is attempting a launch!” Urle said.

“Target and destroy,” Brooks ordered.

The lasers pulsed; the missile had scarcely started away when it detonated, ripping apart its mothership.

“And that’s why most don’t use nuclear lances anymore,” Urle said, wincing.

“Ship A is burning its engines,” Cenz noted.  “It’s damaging their superstructure, but – oh, I believe they are putting themselves on a collision course for us, Captain!”

Which was no small threat; the ship was small, but its mass was still high, and it likely carried multiple more nuclear missiles.

“Charge all three coilguns,” he ordered sharply.  Rotate and give a full barrage.”

“Preparing to fire all three,” Jaya said.  “Firing for effect – now!”

The G-Shock alarm went off, and Brooks gripped to his seat with white knuckles as all three of their coilguns fired simultaneously.  The ship shuddered with reaction to the triple launch.

Their aim was true, and the kamikaze vessel disintegrated on impact.

Debris flew in all directions, then some of its missiles detonated, setting off a chain reaction.  Flashes of light like fireworks lit the darkness again, and Brooks watched in silence for a time.

“Captain, our earlier coilgun barrage did impact on the lead pirate vessel,” Cenz said.  “It did not make any maneuvers – we have holed its zerodrive.”

“Why are they doing nothing?” Jaya asked, frowning.  “I do not like this.”

“It’s moving now!” Cenz said.  “If they were asleep, we have now awoken them.  They are burning engines and trying to move around the asteroid.”

“Target with missiles.  I want to cripple them.  Then get us close, and tell the Response teams to prepare for a boarding action.”

---

< Ep 10 Part 25 | Ep 10 Part 27 >

New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!

---

This time, they were not alone on the bridge.

Kade found himself on his knees, two metal poles crossing in front of and behind his neck, forcing him into this position.

It had only been a day since he’d last been here.  He’d read all night and through the morning, then spent the last few hours writing feverishly.  Sleep was impossible after all he’d read in the Captain’s journals.

He didn’t feel his writings were nearly ready enough, and they weren’t much, but the words were there.

“There is not much time left,” Tarsota had told him.

The words were said with a normality and acceptance that threw him off.  Even the guards shifted uncomfortably, but Tarsota did not seem to notice.

Kade reasoned that he had done just what Tarsota had told him to do; write the truth.  Now he’d find out if the pirate really wanted that and if he had done a good enough job writing it.

The pirate was slumped in his chair, casually holding a large pistol in his hand.  It was covered in elabroate gold and copper designs, with gems set into it that seemed to sparkle with an inner light.

His hand holding it occasionally twitched, the finger on the trigger nearly setting it off several times.

They all just waited.  There was still no crew in here, only the two guards, Kade, and Tarsota.

Tarsota had fallen into a stillness for some time, all except his twitching hand.  If not for that he might have been asleep.  Or dead.

He moved suddenly, so sharply that the guards jumped.

“Go,” he croaked to the guards.

They hesitated.  “Captain, lots of questions going ’round . . .” one began.  “Just wanna know what the plan is.”

Tarsota shot them both.

The handgun was even deadlier than it looked.  Both guards had most of their heads gone from a single shot.

First the one who spoke, then in a heartbeat the one next to him, who barely had time to move – but clearly preparing to charge.

Kade screamed as they died, throwing himself down.  Tarsota did not shoot him, but pointed the gun at him.

“Are you next?” he yelled.

“No!  Nonono!” Kade screamed.

“Traitors all around me.  They want what I have.  They think they can take what I’ve got?”  Tarsota laughed, a horrible gagging sound.  He stood, raising his arms and turning around to look across the bridge.  “Let them try!  None are worthy!”

He cringed back then, as if stung by his own words.

“None are able,” he said more quietly, slumping back into his chair.

His eyes moved back to Kade.  “You wrote good words.  Better than I deserve.  You stay here.  Maybe you survive.  Maybe just your words.  Just don’t let it take you next.”

Kade did not know what to say to that.  He was still cowering on the floor, but Captain Tarsota had already turned away to look towards the main screen.  It had turned on, showing stars beyond the vessel.

“Not long now,” he croaked.

---

< Ep 10 Part 24 | Ep 10 Part 26 >

New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!

---

Taking a ship by storm was messy work, Pirra thought, looking up at the sterile ceiling of the combat medical room.  Even before the action started.

“The second injection is ready whenever you are, Lieutenant Commander,” Y told her.

“Go ahead,” she said, glancing to her right arm.

The apparatus there was a triple needle, of a type she always hated to see.

“Pirra, are you sure you’re ready for the next shot?” Alexander asked worriedly.

She glanced at him, forcing a smile.  “I’m used to this.”

“No one gets used to this,” he said, the worry etching deep furrows in his face.

“Pre-Trauma gel is standard for this kind of job,” she said.  Y struck at that moment, the three needles – so thin that they were nearly invisible, stabbing into her arm.  Normally one wouldn’t feel them, but the three liquids coming through them hurt like the sting of a huaz.

She couldn’t help but glance over, seeing that nearly half of the syringes had gone into her.  The chemicals had a short lifetime, just eight hours or so, so they couldn’t be pre-mixed.  But once inside the body, they’d help one survive even the most traumatic of injuries.

She’d seen Response Officers who had lost over fifty percent of their blood and body mass to injuries survive if they had PTG in their systems.

The pain grew and she forced herself not to yell out.

Alexander knew her well enough to see through her bravery.

“We need to wait longer for the third one,” he insisted.  There were three rounds of injections, and the last was the worst.

“No, I’m fine,” she insisted, her voice strained.

“I concur with your husband, Lieutenant Commander.  It is best to wait at least two minutes between injections,” Y said.

“Fine,” she said.  She just wanted it over with.

“I wasn’t sure whether to be happy or terrified that they didn’t give you these before the battle against the Hev,” Alexander said.

“We didn’t know how long we’d be fighting their boarding parties,” she said.  “It wouldn’t do if we were still fighting eight hours later and we all started to get severely ill.  This time we’re the boarders and we’ll have it done within two hours, tops.”

“I know it could save your life, but you’ve had bad reactions before to this stuff-“

“Just when I was younger,” Pirra insisted, annoyed but knowing he was truly just being caring.  “I’ve built up a tolerance.”

Y made the sound of a human clicking his tongue.  “That is not how it works, Lieutenant Commander, you know that.”

“I’m going to stick with my comforting lie,” she told him.

“Oh, delusions, yes, I understand that is a common coping mechanism among organic beings,” Y replied.  He turned away to start preparing the next injection.

Pirra looked to Alexander.  “The pain is nothing,” she told him.  “It’ll be after this is over that you can feel worried.”  She forced a laugh.

“I hate seeing you sick afterward even more,” he said glumly.

“I’ll feel like shit, but at least I’ll be alive,” she said with a shrug.  Her arm burned with the movement.

At least, she probably would be alive.  Enough bodily harm, or if her major organs were destroyed and not even PTG would save her.

“The other squads are all reacting well to their own injections,” Y informed her.

“Are you giving any to that Apollonia girl?” she asked.

“‘Apollonia girl’?” Y noted.  “She is Apollonia Nor, or Ms. Nor, Lieutenant Commander.”

“I’m informal when I’m getting tortured,” Pirra replied, shrugging again and regretting it.

“I don’t know why the Captain is even sending a civilian,” Alexander said, shaking his head.

“Her presence will provide you protection against things of a tenkionic nature,” Y replied.  “Though she will have to depend upon others for her own safety.  I fear her body would reject the PTG.  It is too dangerous to attempt giving it to her.”

“We’ll keep her safe,” Pirra promised.

But her insides squirmed.  Not because of Apollonia Nor, but the mention of tenkionic forces made her think again about just what it was they were going into.

About the Star Hunter and his relic technology.

Did these pirates really have it?  Intellectually, she doubted it, but in her gut she knew.  They were going to be walking into something bad, something they could not possibly be prepared for.

Her chrono showed that it had been three minutes since the last injection.

“Give me the last shot,” she said.

“Very well,” Y said, turning around.  The arm with the triple-injector moved closer.

“Don’t worry, Alex,” she said to him, keeping her eyes on his face and giving him a reassuring smile.  “It’s all going to be fine.”

---

< Ep 10 Part 23 | Ep 10 Part 25 >