| Kso-Dashune | Date: Thursday, 28 Jul 2011, 6:02 AM | Message # 1 |
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| Shedu Maad - 2230 Hapan Time
That they came in the middle of his victory toast was as startling as it was improbable. Nonetheless, they had come. His glass had been raised on high, along with those of his bridge crew, a scene equaled across dozens of bridges upon dozens of ships, numbering nearly a hundred; a premature victory toast if there ever had been one. He was not immune to hubris, it seemed, for his wished the farewell they would bid to be above Shedu Maad, where the Ducha could look up and, he had fancied, see them as they departed. She would be none the wiser; he had bedded her and removed all doubt. She had, more than likely, seen the military commander as a prize to have in her bed. Some military commander he had turned out to be, or so went the train of his thoughts as he pushed himself off the deck. Tried to push himself off the deck and was struck back down by a fit of coughing that brought blood from his mouth to paint the formerly spotless steel gray in front of his eyes with red. Broken ribs, surely. Probably a punctured lung as well. His ears still rang from the concussion. Flashes of emergency lighting showed broken bodies and people half-collapsed, or trying to help one another, shouting across the bridge. A shame, he thought, a true shame. They'd been so close just to have it all fall apart. His eyes began to slide closed; he felt the darkness beckoning. So easy to slip into its embrace. So easy to let it all go. What would happen would happen and that was the be-all and end-all. Peace, finally.
No.
Something stirred within his mind, like the embers of a dying fire. No, damn it, they'd come here, so many of them, together. They'd fought and bled and died and lived and loved amongst the edge of this damned system against a multitude of bandit and raider and malcontent forces. For it to end like this was inconceivable. His eyes shot open as adrenaline pumped though his system. Pushing past the pain, bracing his left hand against his side to steady himself, he forced himself to his feet. The world crashed in around him.
"Incoming fire! Sectors six, eight and ten! Massed against the port side! It's not gonna hold much longer!"
"Bay one is locked down! Route them through bay two and get those fighters out there for interference!"
"Oh gods... give me something... anything... it hurts..." A guttural sigh. Damn it all; he'd lost another one on his watch.
Forcing himself upwards, he dropped back into the shattered remnants of his command chair, looking up at his beautiful executive officer; correction, his formerly beautiful executive officer whose left cheek was scarred and burned and whose left eye was missing. She was still barking orders, thankfully. Who had sold him out? His sister? No, no. She enjoyed a good prank. Smuggling the rainbow gems had done for that. His lover? Perhaps former lover? Who could say. There would be time later, if they survived. A massive explosion rocked the ship, setting off another chain of klaxons, if such was possible. It felt as if every alarm in the world was going off inside his head and around it.
"What was that?" He managed to grate out, loud enough for the XO to hear. Shooting a glance at him, seemingly disregarding her own injuries, she looked back to her work station. "The Pride of Gallinore. She's gone. It seems she took a full salvo from the port and front."
He closed his eyes, cursing under his breath. That ship had been one of his first commands. She was an old Nova, but a good one. Captain Ha'thu, whom he'd placed in charge, had been a good man; a competent man and a steady leader. Now he was so much subatomic particles floating in space. He had to salvage this debacle somehow. He had to get as many of his people out as he could before the Consortium's headhunter fleet ravaged all he had struggled to build. That was all he could think of that could have dropped in so quickly with so much firepower. "Give me a status report, XO. What the hell happened?"
"They sucker-punched us, sir. Vised us between two pincers and against Shedu Maad. We received a rough count of over two hundred vessels."
"Two hundred total?"
The XO's face betrayed a moment of dismay. "Two hundred capital vessels, sir. They're chewing us apart. We have ships fleeing in every direction. The Raider's Ruin panicked and tried a blind jump. They ended up inside the Moonlit Night."
He winced at that news. What a horrible way to go. Still, time was of an essence. He had to move and move fast. To save what he could, he might have to sacrifice the extra, an action he could not condone, but for the greater good. If he died here, this day, his people might never have a chance at freedom. "How bad is she damaged?"
"We got lucky, sir. Their first volley caught us with our shields down. They got a quick shot in on the bridge. Most of the damage is superficial. We're doing worse elsewhere but the March of Destiny is giving as good as she's getting, sir."
"Good. Rally as many of the nearby ships as you can. We're making a run for it towards the edge of the Mists. If we gather enough momentum and vessels, we can punch a hole, right there. Weak spot in their pincer."
Even as he was working the strategy, his XO was barking the orders, orders that were passed out to all ships and all captains who were able to listen. Those who could, who had heard, began to move towards his ship, which was beginning its own path and picking up speed, as well as drawing fire. Before he could plan further, his comm flickered to life again. "Incoming transmission! Sir, it's... it's the commander of the enemy fleet. She... she wants to speak to you."
No surprise there. "Put her on the screen." Even he could not contain his shock as the image materialized. Tall, well over six feet and with long blonde hair that cascaded down to the middle of her back, the female he viewed held an imperious pose and even he, one of the hardest of men, could not contain the chill that coursed down his spine.
"Surrender your fleet, what's left of it. We will show them mercy. They do not realize they have been led astray by a traitorous malcontent noble."
"Ta'shar... of all people... they sent you."
For once, her normally emotionless face broke into a wicked little smile before reverting back to its norm: uncaring, unfeeling. Nothing. Ta'shar Da'shune, eldest child of his family. Master tactician. Master duelist. Deadly with a blaster pistol and nearly unparalleled on Gallinore in the unarmed arts. That she had come, that she was leading the fleet, meant this was more than sanctioned by the Queen Mother. This was personal. This was about family and honor and he did not doubt for one minute that if he were captured, if he surrendered, he would be very long in dying. Those who had agreed to come with him were not likely to fare much better.
"Power down your ship, K'so. You don't need to waste these lives."
"Power it down yourself, Commander Da'shune. We don't scrape and bow for the Consortium any longer. We're free people, do you hear? Free people!"
Her snarl was unmistakable as he killed the connections. However, it seemed as if she'd try to be good to her word as the XO called out again. "Enemy flagship moving on intercept course with four escorts. Time to intercept, three minutes." Three minutes.
Damn it. It wasn't enough, but he was going to try to run the gauntlet anyway. "Engines to full. Pull all power from ion cannons and divert to turbolasers. Ready all tubes and fire on my command."
Staring out into space, lit by flashes of light as ships traded thunderbolts of energy and men and women died as vessels vented and exploded, he knew there was another ship heading to meet with him. His eldest sister wasn't about to let him leave. The only way he planned on going back was on a slab. Like a pair of titanic planetoids rushing together, the pair of Battle Dragons approached, each carrying more than a crew; each carrying the upholder of an ideal and a will that would not be broken.
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The March of Destiny plunged through a hell of turbolaser and ion cannon fire, seeking freedom. It was strange to K'so that Ta'shar had not unleashed her proton torpedo arsenal at his vessel, leading him to believe further that while the Consortium would accept him dead, they wanted him dead on their terms. She was to capture him if at all possible and, barring that, kill him to prevent an escape. K'so was burdened by no such problems save for one: he hated her, hated everything she stood for, but she was still his sister. He could not find it in himself to kill her. Wrestling with his indecision was a moment of weakness as the ship rocked about him. "We're losing escorts fast!" His XO's voice rang above the alarms as he felt the death of another ship, another crew, as keenly as a knife twisted inside his vitals. To save all of those around him, he would have to sacrifice a part of himself.
"Lock firing solutions solely on her ship. Open all tubes."
His XO gave him a brief look that spoke a thousand words; they'd been a team long enough for her to recognize the pain hidden behind the steel backing of his words. A moment later and the order was given. Proton torpedoes screamed from their launch tubes, sweeping in on the Battle Dragon... and then vanished as a Hapan Nova surged in between the two titans, attempting to intercept one of his escorts. It broke apart like so much chaff as the torpedoes ruptured its already weakened shields and struck the hull. He had been spared the choice this once as his turbolasers continued hammering at the opposing vessel. They had almost reached the intersection now; one of his escorts bearing the brunt of the attacks. He knew what the captain was doing, the man's own form of a sacrifice for a dream that so many would not realize after this day.
"Enemy flagship shields nearing fifty percent."
"Switch all power to ion cannons and lock target. Lock her down and recall all fighters. We can't wait any longer. Order all escorts to recall and jump at will."
The pitch of the thrumming cannons changed as the turbolasers fell silent and the ion cannons sang their song of blue fire; he'd done what he could. Ahead, he could see a sparse few ships that had run the blockade vanish into hyperspace; he was unable to get an accurate count. A moment later there was a flash and the broken pieces of a Battle Dragon r-emerged, tumbling about; one of the ships hadn't been able to handle the stress of the jump. Even as his vessel shuddered about him, K'so was unable to keep his head unbowed; unable to prevent the tears that fell from his eyes. So many good people gone, so many families would grieve. Damn them. Damn them all.
"Flagship is breaking off, sir! Receiving incoming transmission!"
The holofield came alive, showing him Ta'shar disheveled; a fire evident in the background. Perhaps some of his torpedoes had gotten through. If he held any compunctions about not spilling her blood, she did not have the same. The venom in her eyes was evident. "Run, little brother! These people here died for you just to run." Her words cut him deeper than she could have known, but he accepted them stoically, facing her. "No matter where or how far you run, K'so, the Consortium will find you and you'll be brought back. Dead or alive, little brother, you won't get away with this." Her words were punctuated as another Nova escort detonated off his starboard.
He cut the communication soundlessly and felt the hyperdrives cycling up for the jump. Behind him lay so many dead, so many dreams unrealized of the Independent Hapan Nation. All he could do was push on.
K'so Da'shune
Presidium of the Independent Hapan Nation
Message edited by Kso-Dashune - Thursday, 28 Jul 2011, 6:03 AM |
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