Friday, March 23, 2012

Fiction Friday: Series 4 - Part 20

Prologue Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13
Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19
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The Rokh shuddered as the warp bubble collapsed and I came sliding to sub-light speeds. My camera drones deployed and quickly brought the Impro station and the sentry guns arrayed around it. And, more importantly, the gleaming gold hull of the Amarrian carrier easing through the docking port.

"Kirith Kodachi, what a surprise!" the carrier pilot purred as I accepted the private comm channel request.

"Blodel," I acknowledged. Her avatar was styled in a smart Sarum formal wear robe with her hair pulled back in a braid. She could have been considered beautiful if her eyes were not so cold and devoid of life. A part of me suddenly realized where I had seen eyes like that before. They had been staring back at me from a mirror just this morning.

"Have you come looking for a chance at revenge?" she teasingly asked.

"Nah, just living around here these days. Thought I would drop over and say hi," I said nonchalantly as I activated the targeting routines.

She laughed. "Really? You want to fight?" CONCORD traffic control was reporting the system as nearly empty and we both knew that the massive Archon carrier was more than a match for my single battleship. "Battlesstations," I told my bridge crew on my ship's intercoms. "Yes sir, all hands are reporting ready," replied my first officer whose name I just can't recall and can't be bothered to look up.

The target lock resolved and eight Heavy Neutron Blaster Cannon IIs unleashed focused particle hell upon Blodel's shields. My sensors barely detected a dip in their strength, and the ship's main defenses were the armour plates beneath the shields. I settled into a close orbit nevertheless.

"My, my, aren't you bold?" Blodel mocked. My heart started to speed up as I detected the gentle caress of her ship's sensors locking onto my signature. Come on, come on, I thought to myself, launch those fighters. Suddenly my overview picked up ten new targets as Templar class fighters emerged from the Archon's flight deck. They circled out and pulled into an attack run on me, and suddenly my skin prickled as lasers scorched over my own shields.

"I have aggression from her," I reported on fleet comms.

"Fleet, jump!" ordered the fleet commander.

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