jueves, 22 de marzo de 2012

SD IV Chapter 13 Part 2

First Contact
Unknown Location

Johns looked at his assistant.

“Well?” he asked, as the man switched worriedly between screens.

“Something left that ship, Boss,” he said, “but I get nothing.”

“Spool up the defence systems,” said Johns, patting the man on the shoulder, “if I’ve learnt anything at all over the last months, it’s to trust my instincts.”

“The Bridge is yours,” he said more formally to his second-in-command, “I am going hunting.”

He collected his men and battle suit as he made his way to the hanger and air lock. These suits had been developed for close quarter and terrestrial operations. They could be attached to mobile weapons platforms, which allowed both manoeuvrability and enhanced firepower. No-one could ever think of them as fighters, but Johns knew how effective they could be. Whoever was shooting at them, obviously did not expect much resistance. Johns grinned to himself as he entered the hanger bay and saw his ride waiting for him.

Unknown Location


The voice bubbled and hissed from inside the blackened and armour-clad figure. Bodily fluids, long decayed spluttered from between rotten lips and the Ori unconsciously jerked back from the lumbering figure.

“There is no time,” hissed the first, drawing a plasma pistol, “we dance to a rather different tune I think.”

His final word was punctuated by the hissing stream of energy exiting the pistol’s muzzle. It boiled what little flesh was left in Shan’s creature and melted non-resistant armour. Two others of Shan’s minions lurched into life and met the same fate.

“Fool!” Said the second of the players, “Shan will not forgive this.”

“I think that he may be a little busy. Even so,” fingers danced over the main screen, “I have no intention of remaining to witness his displeasure. It is time to run again.”

There was a terse nod, and both Ori rose, making their way as quickly as they could to the Flagship’s Main Bay. Whilst they collected what little they had of importance, pods trundled on mechanical rails, being lifted and clamped to the side of a sleek yacht. Neither would run empty-handed and they may yet need a little insurance policy.

“Are we ready?”

What had been a rhetorical question became a scream of pain as a blunt object slammed into an unprotected skull.

“Sorry Brother,” muttered one of the Ori, “Someone needs to remain and take the blame.”

Shortly after, a dull black yacht slowly slid into space, its engines igniting briefly and driving it in the opposite direction to the battle taking place close by. With the minimum of calculation, the lone Ori jumped his ship into Fold Space. When Shan returned he would find a semi-conscious victim ready for his sick ministrations. He could replace one of his followers, but a little sport first would surely be to his liking.

First Contact
Unknown Location

“We’re hit!”

Johns heard the cry from the ship and scanned the surrounding area. Energy traces showed from where the attack had come, yet he had no hope of their enemy still being there. Something flashed across his peripheral vision and he reacted, sending out a pod of rockets, whose arcs intersected his hastily estimated enemy’s flight path. There was a flash of intense blue-white light, his visor darkening to protect him, and then he could see one of their attackers. Its stealth capability damaged, the drone turned to attack and Johns waited, eyes flicking for any other movement. His fingers caressed his weapons controls and he grinned in anticipation.

Point-defence guns opened up behind him, thousands of rounds expended as a curtain of hot metal spat towards the oncoming drone. It was effective for lower level missiles, but an intelligent drone easily avoided the onslaught, In return energy weapons flashed, striking the ship and boiling globules of metal into vacuum. Still Johns waited.

The second drone was highlighted by the exhausts of the first’s missiles. Johns fired. SRM’s flashed forward straddling the onrushing drone, but it was the stream of plasma which killed it. A thin whip-like strand covered the rapidly closing distance, draping over the front of the drone for a moment, before it released its potential. The drone was no more.

“Now that’s more like it,” muttered Johns, as he boosted the rockets controlling his mobile gun platform. He aimed at the drone damaged in the initial attack and held his breath briefly, before thumbing his firing button.

“All Hands, all Hands,” Johns heard the clearly pronounced words, “critical system damage will cause an emergency re-entry. Take your Stations...”

“Crap!” Johns was outside and unless he and his men moved quickly, they would be left behind. Death outside the ship, or a good chance of losing their lives within the ship. Great choice.

“Back to the ship!”

His voice was steady and his men responded quickly and efficiently. They had been well trained, Johns hoped that they were lucky with it.

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