Space bulged, twisted and finally tore to allow the compact hull of the Retribution class assault frigate to re-enter normal space. Reassembled only mere moments ago by the intra-system jumpgate it was already accelerating hard, targeting systems pushed to the limit as it tried to ensnare the hapless Thrasher, specialised verses frigates sure, but not 1 on 1 with this one.
Long scars, some still glowing despite the chill of space were visible along its hull from the previous engagement only seconds ago, and light-years away on the other side of the gate. The destroyer was busy manuvering also, aligning and accelerating up to warp speed in a desperate attempt to get to a station.
"3 ...... 2 ...... 1 .... damn you, someone is sure smiling on you today" the curse echoes through the comn net onboard the Retribution as the Thrasher enters warp evading destruction yet again, "align and follow it, he's not safe yet".
A high pitched whine and deeper throb of the warp drives spooling down signal a return to sublight speeds, immediately the sensors scour the local area, sure enough a familiar signal is detected.
"You're mine now" the thrasher had miscalculated its warp, dropping almost 5km short of the stations weapons free docking zone, although by now it was now almost up to speed and closing the distance rapidly.
"Load conflag, max damage we don't have much time" the order rang out across the gunnery control room. At the observation and tracking station the targeting systems were once again attempting to acquire a lock. The auto loaders respond to commands from the gun-control techs to switch out the longer range crystals from the pulse laser emplacements, slipping the close range ammo into place faster than any other weapon system in the cluster was capable of.
The target lock tone sounded bringing an evil grin to the face of the pilot, "open fire, all weapons".
The oversized capacitor buried deep within the small ship poured energy into the 4 pulse lasers. On rapid fire mode they transferred the electrical power into a stream of charged photons (in a nice green colour) that crossed the gap between the two ships faster than the blink of an eye.
The already depleted shield of the Thrasher gave in on the first salvo, lasers being wickedly effective against the electromagnetic defence, a second salvo followed shortly after burning into the thin armour, whisps of atmosphere venting from unprotected compartments.
The third salvo however was the killer, 2 beams punched straight through one engine pod, nuclear fire spilling into the night, the other two slicing the bow clean off. Well it would have come off cleanly if the ammo cache hadn't been stored there.
Debris spinning through space, flash frozen fluids glinting in the sunlight, the hunter still searches, targeting system spots its prey, a small brown sphere still moving determinedly towards the neutral zone. "Ohh no you don't, your ass is mine"
3 .... 2 .... 1 .... "This is the Republic Fleet, engaging in combat within the station docking perimeter is a CONCORD sanctioned offence and will be dealt with harshly." The target lock drops, the hunter watches the prey disappear into the docking bay. After a quick glance at the spoils of the Thrasher wreck, the Retribution also docks.
Ectoplasmic fluid drains from the pod, the pilot detaches her spinal implant from the capsule systems, regaining consciousness she removes her mouth piece, wipes the gloop from her face before detaching the remaining lower spinal implants.
Stepping from the pod she takes a quick shower before donning a long black and red dress, with traditional Khanid Kingdom headgear.
Looking across the hanger as she walks towards the main hub, a tall Brutor is pulled from his capsule by deck hands, although not unconscious he looks to be having difficulty standing. She grins, "I may just get you yet mate."
Walking into the bustle of the Matari station is always a relief for me, in any other races station the plebs fall over themselves to assist me with tasks I am perfectly capable of performing for myself. Here however, none of them want to be seen working for an Amarrian, ahh the freedom, yeah I know it's ironic an Amarrian seeking freedom in Matari space, but it's the way I like it.
I choose a seat outside a small cafe where I can watch the comings and goings from the docking bay, I catch the attention of a waitress and try to explain to the her how to make a proper cup of tea, then sit and wait for my man to recover.
A few minutes later he emerges, dressed simply "Brutor Warrior" or something like that is the 'in' fashion it seems. I stand and walk over to him, "You seemed to be having a little trouble in there, all ok now?", he regards me with what I suppose was a sneer, he hasn't quite got the hang of it yet, the Matari have nothing to sneer about. "Yeah I'm fine" he replies "just had my ship shot from under me is all, I don't suppose you would know anything about that though would you?" his grin suggests he knows exactly who I am. "Care for a drink" I offer, we sit and chat, he orders some thick black filth with bits floating in it that seems all the rage. We carefully avoid discussing the politics that brought us to war, we are simply two soldiers at truce.
It is later in the evening, we have moved from cafe to bar, a seedy little Matari place where smoke shrouds the lights, my outfit is drawing a few strange glances from those Matari who are a little old fashioned in their outlook on the world. Cid, I discovered his name was, doesn't seem to notice, he orders us a few drinks and gets us a booth. There is a small stage at the far end, I can't quite tell if it's a musical performance or dancing girls, either way they are not getting much attention.
We talk more, getting a little louder, the topics varying faster and with less logic to trace a path through. I offer to get the next round. At the bar I order him another bottle of whatever light beer he had before, I get myself the only brand of Spiced wine available this far out of the Empire. Before returning to our table I extract a small blue vial from my sleeve, tipping a small amount into his drink. I pause, "To hell with it, if I'm going to do this I may as well make it as enjoyable as I can", I extract a second vial, a soft red colour, and tip a few drops in his, then one in my own as well. I signal the barman that I want the spiced wine bottle as well. I walk back through the increasingly busy bar to our table.
Delayed action neuro-inhibitors, the little blue vial contained a marvel of the many chemical weapons programmes, non lethal, unless you wanted them to be, they could be tuned to almost any function, and set to become active over quite an accurate time span. The red vial however was a lot more common, at least throughout the Gallante Federation, where it was crudely described as an "industrial strength aphrodisiac"
Returning to our table he takes his drink and downs it, before refilling, he leans back in his chair and we carry on as before. Eventually I see the effects begin to kick in, he gets a little closer, his eyes wander and he is less concerned if I notice, he also starts trying to change to more risqué subjects, I play along feeding his growing ego, the alcohol and chemicals surging through him betraying any common sense he may have had before.
I'm beginning to think something is wrong when finally he pops the golden question, "I got some classy stuff back at my place, fancy joining me?" I flash him a shy grin, "Good sir, If I didn't know any better I might think you were trying to lead me astray" another smile, this one considerably more dirty, before I pull him from his seat.
We are barely out of the bar when he has his arms around me, he tries to press me against the wall and leans in. I may be small, little over 5'8 but I can more than hold my own. His mind seems to clear a little when I have my hand at his throat, "I am no slut" keeping my voice low, but the menace is unmistakable, "you want me, you take me home, you will get nothing from me in the street".
Stepping into his apartment he seems to have calmed down a little, "you want another drink or something?" he seems to have given up, whatever happened to Matari stubbornness? I remove my hard formal collar and headdress, his eyes prick up "maybe not yet" I coo at him, suddenly he is in his element again, upon me in an instant.
[[ Yes I'm deliberately missing a bit out here, No I'm not going to give you details.]]
I awaken in an unusual bed, lying on my back pinned in place by the large Brutor, "Eughh, sometimes I wish I did drink, it might make forgetting things like this easier". I wriggle out from under him, the combined sleeping draught and muscle relaxant I had spiked him with last night was in full effect. I pad across the room to the shower, selecting a warm body massage I let the water work its magic on my aching body.
Emerging a few minutes later, he is still out of it, I recover my clothes from where they fell across the room last night. Dressing quickly, but with the care and attention due to this action, I survey the room. Simple, but you can see where he has spent his earnings, everything has its place, unusual in a man.
I sit at his datapad, "heh, fingerprint scanner, here ya go Cid open this will ya?" I press it against his unresisting hand, access granted it chimes. Intel, beautiful, it shouldn't be this easy, I download it into my implant. Now we finish up.
Standing, I pull a small electronic device from my bag, about palm size, it has a single implant connector on one end, and a covered button on the other. "It was nice working with you Mr Cid, but now it's time for you to wake up", I press the device into the implant socket at the base of his skull, flipping the cover up I press the button. His body tenses then spasms once, the EMP device has fried not only his implants, but every synapse in his brain. "Nobody cheats me out of a pod kill Mr Cid, time for you and me to leave, I have a space in my collection reserved for you."
Bundling him onto a luggage trolley I take him to the nearest airlock, tucking a small homing beacon into his collar, I step back and cycle it, instant meat popsicle. As easy as it would be to take him direct to my hanger, Having an unfrozen specimen would cause questions, not to mention an unpleasant smell.
Returning to the apartment I glance around checking for any details suggesting two people were here. I almost miss the second glass on the table, I toss it down the refuse chute and I leave. Taking a short excursion outside to retrieve my prize.
I sit again at my place outside the little cafe. Soon enough, it happens..
A large Brutor, bald and still wearing the cheap clonebay jumpsuit is arguing with a docking manager.
"I don't care what your records show, I know I damn well I docked the pod, so why the hell did I just wakeup in the clone bay?
"I'm sorry Sir, our logs show nothing"
I lean back and smile to myself, I never miss my mark.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
If you had ever wondered how you sometimes dock, yet still lose your pod?
A long one, and a little more raunchy than I have done before, I'm not too sure if it fits Evil's way of doing things or clashes too much with her high moral standings, which is why I haven't used her name. It could easily be her though, so watch out.
No comments:
Post a Comment