From Hell's Heart...
16 Aug 2020Tharik Otoli
The Adventures of Prince Tharik Otoli: Space PirateFollow this link for the full anthology!
SHINRARTA DEZHRA
Shinrarta Dezhra, headquarters of the enigmatic Pilot's Federation, open only to the most skilled pilots in the galaxy, the Elite. Elite number in perhaps the tens of thousands, a paltry sum compared to the trillions of human beings that populate the galaxy, and yet the system is hardly a secret. Shinrarta Dezhra can be found just as easily on any stellar map as Sol or Achenar, albeit with a more difficult to obtain permit. In addition, Founder's World hosts several million souls, the vast majority of which are not pilots themselves, though many are descendants from generations past. As such, the system’s economy caters mainly to supplying and outfitting the ablest pilots in the galaxy. By any measure, a highly-trafficked and dangerous place. It is here that we join a solitary commander who has just interdicted a ship and crew unfortunate enough to come across him.
The interior of the jet black Imperial Clipper was littered with discarded ration boxes while a foul odor permeated the cockpit. The pilot sat alone on the bridge staring down at his console. A massive man of simian proportions, standing over 2 meters tall and weighing approximately 160 kilograms - possibly the result of Imperial genetic manipulation - his bulk required that a custom made pilot's chair be fitted into his ship. With a sloped forehead, large nose, and gaping nostrils, describing this man as ugly would be charitable. Black war paint obscured some of his hideous features, but it could not hide a massive scar running across his face, the result of a combat injury that had destroyed an eye and caused some degree of head trauma. Prior to that wound, at one point in the man's past, due to his menacing appearance and then boundless charisma, he was a much-feared and respected member of the Kumo Crew, with aspirations and a real potential for the highest levels of leadership. But now, much of the man’s humanity had ebbed away and something sinister and alien had taken its place. A swirling cloud of blue and purple gas formed over the man’s shoulder shaping itself into a fiendish face with glowing eyes and a mouth full of razors for teeth, it hissed into the pilots ear, “They huntsss you Polarissss...”. The man glanced at a readout on his console describing the ship ahead of him, Imperial Cutter - Justicar.
The beast taunted our pilot, “You knowsss this ship Polarisss... they are thievesss...” Andy Polaris opened the Clipper’s gun ports and stared down at the ship in his sights.
The cockpit's comms came to life, "This is Imperial Corsair Prince Tharik Otoli of the Justicar, to whom do I owe the pleasure?"
Yet, to Commander Polaris, our hero's voice was only a faint dreamlike whisper from the black, the demon's own alien voice filled his ears and entranced his mind, “They will killsss you... devour you... tearsss your flesh from your bonesss." The Justicar swung toward Andy's shadowy Imperial Clipper registered only as GG, the meaning of which likely only made sense in the addled mind of her pilot.
Commander Polaris, Combat Elite, spoke, "Why do you torture me Demon? Go back to Witchspace where I found you."
The demon said nothing and merely materialized a smoky claw with a talon pointing out toward the Justicar, at that moment speakers within the ship pronounced a warning - SCAN DETECTED, "They ssseeeee you Polarissss. They are looking at our soulsssss..." Andy Polaris boosted his ship forward and crushed down tightly upon his trigger, fragmentation cannons erupted from the ship splashing across the Justicar's shields like droplets of rain on an electric pond. The Justicar, for her part, returned fire, but the GG was fast, maneuverable and easily flew through the incoming fire - slow, high-yield cannon shells strictly designed for incapacitating plodding and clumsy cargo or mining ships. It was not long before our heroes decided on the better part of valor, especially since their attacker's cargo hold contained nothing of value, and turned tail to run.
"Killsssss them Polarisss! Make them pay! Demonssss! ANIMALSSSS," the hiss had now become a roar, and Commander Polaris would not break off the pursuit. He crammed his colossal thumb down upon the boost controls bringing his ship within 100 meters of the Justicar tearing away at her failing shields with thousands of incendiary projectiles. The demon continued it's torment unabated, "MONSTERSSS! They must ssssssuffer!"
FRAME SHIFT CHARGE DETECTED - another warning from the ship's computer and the devil was quick to follow, "Fool!!! Theysss will escape! Kill them Polarissss! KILL THEM!" Fragmentation shells continued to burst forth from the GG as Commander Polaris desperately pressed his attack. With her shields beginning to collapse, the Justicar's crew had quickly plotted an emergency course and she lept up into Witchspace safely disappearing toward a nearby system, bluish gas trailed behind her out into infinity.
"SSSSTUPID!!! IMBECILE!!! SSSSIMPLETON," shouted the wispy devil into Andy's ear, and then, it suddenly exploded into a heaving purple cloud and retreated into the cockpit's air ducts.
A far off voice from Andy's distant past cried, "It's not real Andy, it's only in your mind! You've suffered irreparable brain damage!"
Commander Andy Polaris, Elite Combateer, and once a legendary member of the Kumo Crew Watch, buried his face into his hands and screamed.
Author's note: I have been recently taking requests from other Commanders to feature their characters or squads as leads in my logbooks, collectively titled, "The Adventures of Prince Tharik Otoli: Space Pirate." If any Commander, whether you RP / write fan fiction or not, would like to be included in my stories or perhaps even collaborate on a story to add to the richness of the Elite Universe, please PM me, Tharik Otoli. Thank you.