Old Habits Die Hard Pt. 2
05 Jul 2016Desert Fox CXVII
She's enjoying this a little too much.After the initial shock of seeing her after almost a year has subsided, I revisit the well crafted stump impression I’d perfected in my hospital bed. Instead of the coldly professional Imperial agent I should resemble, I'd morphed into something akin to an infatuated schoolboy who had just seen a tit for the first time. It was fucking embarrassing, to say the least.
She's sitting in front of me, holding a cocktail much too fancy for this place and mocking me with every little expression she makes.
Thank God for my pride, because the annoyance at her smug expression gives me the swift kick in the ass to rearrange my stupid looking face to something more befitting the situation. With a grunt of very real effort disguised as a cough, I adopt an expression somewhere between a pained grimace and a scowl. Not the most intimidating thing in the galaxy, but it was all I could muster at the moment, so give me a break.
“You're my contact?” I growl.
Reid winks in response, her lips pulled into a smirk, decidedly unimpressed.”Your grasp on the obvious is astounding, as always.”
My frown only deepens, but I don't say anything. She was right, though; it was a pretty stupid question.
“So,” She plucks the cherry from her drink and pops it into her mouth. “Miss me?” She's still chewing, so her words come out slightly thick.
I balk at her words, the hard expression sliding off my face. Truth be told, I had missed her; there weren’t many people with the gall to speak to me the way she did, and, if I’m being honest with myself, I liked it. There was something refreshing about not being talked to like I was some grim reaper. She was a breath of fresh air compared to the willowy high born women my mother kept trying to hitch me with.
Plus our extracurricular activities didn’t hurt much either.
My face softens and I look down at my beer, not speaking, answering her question with my silence. She doesn't push the issue, and I'm thankful for that. Neither of us are particularly good with the whole “feelings” thing. It makes me uncomfortable, in all honesty.
Sometimes, though, silence speaks louder than words, and this silence was speaking volumes. Despite my hard and unwavering exterior, and her brash and confident persona, we had left a lasting impression on each other, to say the least. Something that we are either unable or unwilling to identify. Something that flew in the face of all logic and reason, considering our places in society and the unfortunate circumstances of how we'd met.
Nevertheless...
I look back up at her, my hard expression back in place, but tempered by a slight adventurous glint in my eye. She returns the expression, a wolfish grin spreading over her lips.
We caught up with them in Kremmain, a system recovering from a recent and devastating civil war. The spacelanes were clogged by relief vessels and the occasional overworked security officer doing their best to enforce order onto the chaos. As a result, we slipped through the cracks and flew unnoticed and unmolested for almost twenty minutes.
It didn’t last, though; gradually, almost imperceptibly, ships started shying away from us. Before long there was an empty dome all around us almost thirty seconds across. Evidently I’d built up something of a reputation over the last few months; even the security services, such as they were, gave us a wide berth.
Despite the ease of our passage, I didn't want stay long; it was only a matter of time before word got out and somebody dispatched squadron of naval vessels to deal with us. That was a headache I really didn't want to deal with, especially on a mission as sensitive as this. Thankfully, though, we didn't need to hang around, just long enough to scan our mark's wake and scarper.
So that's what we did; after finding the echo, we drifted for a few minutes while the scanner did it's thing, all the while keeping a close eye on our contacts list.
The moment the scan was complete, we put Kremmain to our rudder and jumped out.
The next couple hours were a monotonous blur. Scan jump, scan jump, all the while being careful not to early, lest we drop in on our target and alert him to our presence. At least, not until the opportune moment. When they stopped to fuel in an uninhabited system, we'd pounce.
Until that time, though...
I sigh and rub my eyes, the image of my heads up display burned into my retinas from hours of staring out of the canopy. We hadn't spoken much for the majority of the journey, breaking the silence only to relay jump coordinates or signal the need to refuel.
I couldn't even begin to tell you why she wasn't speaking. On my end, though, it mostly had to do with simply not knowing what to say. How do you fill the silence with someone you've only met a handful of times, has stolen from you, saved your life, shared a bed with you, and to make everything even weirder, someone that you've payed. An exorbitant amount, at that.
Do you keep it professional? Personal? Somewhere in between? Do I tell her that for the longest time, it was all I could do not to think about her? That I sometimes still woke up hoping she'd be next to me? That, pardon the cliché, nobody had made me feel the way she does?
Then there's the fact that I don't even know how she makes me feel. Like I said, I'm not the best with feelings. All I can tell you is that in the brief time I had with her, I was different. I didn't feel the weight of the galaxy on my shoulders. The soul shredding loneliness, the memories that haunt my every waking moment, the faces I see when I close my eyes, all melted away for that briefest of moments.
That all came rushing back in an instant, their absence only sharpening their edge.
So what did it all mean? Was it just some boyish infatuation? Another bit of opulence to fill the empty places in my heart? Was it the danger, or the rebellion that she represented?
Was it something... More?
I shake my head, casting those thoughts away. There would be plenty of time for melodramatic self reflection later. My nav computer was telling me the ambush point was coming up soon.
I had a job to do.
Someone once asked me if I’d rather be feared or respected. It’s a difficult question, and I struggled with the answer for most of my adult life.
In the Corps, I learned about respect and it’s utility and necessity for small units to function effectively. My time as a Navy pilot taught me about the nature of fear, and its effect on the enemy.
It was only until I became a Commander, however, that I truly began to understand fear as not only a concept, but a weapon that can be used to devastating effect. Fear governs everything in our little galaxy; fear of the government, fear of pirates, fear of your partner. Hell, fear of the market and going broke. Then there's the big one, the one on every pilot's mind at all times; fear of a lonely death in the sucking vacuum of space.
But there are other, far more sinister things to be afraid of.
We didn't give him time to react; his corvette had just finished refueling, and was in a high orbit of the star while he waited for his escort. We yanked him down into realspace before any of them knew we were there. My weapons were deployed before Nefertiti had stopped cartwheeling.
My comms panel chirps as the ship opens a hailing frequency. “This is the Federal warship Hammerhead; state your identity and intent at once, or prepare to be fired upon.”
I answered at muzzle velocity. Two bright blue streaks of light lanced out from my dorsal mounts. His shields flare and ripple as the two railgun slugs impact. I follow up with a burst of multicannon fire, the chattering roar of the class 2's and the bass thump of the 4 fill my cockpit with sweet music. Somewhere port and aft of me, Anna opens up with her pulse lasers.
My comms panel chirps a final time, a three word message from the corvette; “So be it.” The frequency is cut and the ship come about, its hull bristling with weapons.
Lasers and cannon rounds fly in both directions now, and my shields flare up as the corvette's turrets start pounding me. I break off my attack run, banking to starboard and yanking up on the stick while dropping a chaff packet as I go.
Anna mirrors my maneuver, and we both swing out in a wide ark that brings us back around to hit the corvette on both flanks. We strafe its considerable girth before streaking off again, passing close enough to each other that, for the briefest of moments, I can see her hunched over the controls, a look of concentration on her face.
We make two more passes, coming from different angles each time, slowly working her shields down. Its difficult for her turrets to track both of us, and our lightning fast attack runs, tight maneuvering and chaff only make things worse for their targeting software.
The upper hand doesn't last though; just as we're pulling out of our third run, six flashes of light fill my canopy, blinding me for a second. When my vision clears, I see that there are four new contacts on my scanner. The corvette's escort has just arrived.
Anna notices them at the same time I do, and we both break off our attack and beeline straight for the cluster of smaller ships. Once I'm closer, I can identify the make of them by sight; three vipers, two cobras and an eagle.
You might think, a vulture and a Fer-de-lance could take a wing on like that no problem, but I know from experience a group of small fast ships can punch well above their weight. They could use their speed and small profile to dominate the battlefield. Luckily, from being on both ends of an engagement like that, I know how to counter it. We'd have to use Anna's superior maneuverability and my overwhelming firepower to their greatest effect. We'd also have to focus on one ship at a time; if we got caught up with whatever was in front of us, we'd get pulled apart in minutes.
Apparently Anna already knew that, because she keyed up the comms just before we got into weapon's range. “On my target.” Her voice was calm, but carried with it a sense of both urgency and authority.
I don't answer, but I switch to her target. It's the eagle, and she's already in a deadly dance with it. My shields flare as I start taking fire from the rest of the escort, but I ignore it and close on the eagle.
He's doing everything he can to avoid Anna's lasers, corkscrewing and looping through space with her hot on his heels. As a result, he hasn't noticed me bearing down on him. Once I'm within a kilometer, I let loose with my multicannons; they cut through his shields and shred his hull withing a couple seconds. I blast through the cloud of debris, rolling to port and looking up to see Anna's vulture chasing down one of the vipers. Grinning, I hit my afterburners and jump into the fray again.
The rest of the dogfight is short and brutal, but we're gaining the upper hand again. Our methodical approach proves to be too much for the wing of smaller ships, and they start to fall one after the other.
One problem though; the corvette might be utterly useless in a one on one dogfight, with its kilometer wide turning circle and its abysmal deceleration rate, but once its detached from the action it starts to shine. At long range, it can hammer you with it's two class four hardpoints and it's arsenal of turrets can more easily track and hammer you with constant fire.
With the smaller ships' bug bites combined with the corvette's long range fire support, we were hurting. I was down to my last shield cell and only a handful of chaff packets. I can only assume Anna was in a similar situation.
If we could only hold out for a little while longer, we might just be able to pull this off.
I jerk the stick to avoid an enormous cannon round, and look up at the looming figure of the corvette, it's guns pounding away at us.
“Can you handle these guys on your own?”
“If I couldn't take a couple vipers by myself, I wouldn't have survived this long.” Anna's comms antenna must have taken a hit during the battle, because her voice is distant and obscured by static. “What are you planning?”
“That 'vette is hitting us hard. I'm going to go distract him while you finish up here, because if we don't-”
She cuts me off, an air of impatience bleeding through the static. “Got it. Do your thing.”
I nod to nobody in particular and bank towards the corvette. Once she realizes I'm coming for her, she shifts all her fire off Anna and onto me. I go evasive, but at this range I'm still an easy target, no matter what I do. My only hope is to close to knife fighting range and keep my speed up.
Five K out, I pop my last shield cell and drop chaff. The flak lets up a little, but I can still hear gigantic cannon rounds whooshing past me through the emulators.
Four K out, a laser knits a path over my shields, causing my HUD to go haywire for a couple seconds.
Three K out, a burst of multicannon rounds slam into my keel. Nefertiti shudders and my shields flare to life as the slugs are deflected.
At 2 K, I'm within the 'vette's effective targetting arc, and while my shields are almost down, she can't get a bead on me. Now all I had to do was stay away from her nose and work her shields down. As long as my ammo held out, I'd be good to go.
Using lateral and vertical thrusters, I maneuver below and aft of her, right next to her main drives, and let go with everything I have. Multicannons chatter and thump, railguns crack like bullwhips, all the while I'm untouchable. The 'vette tries to gain position on me, but with my aftermarket drives, I stay in her blind spot and keep hammering her.
I catch a glimpse of the distant fight; there are considerably fewer lasers shooting through space, so I can only assume (and hope) that Anna is starting to mop up the last of the resistance.
The corvette's helmsman must have seen the same thing, because shortly after we pass out of view of the dogfight, she stops trying to maneuver and hits her boosters.
She's running.
I let out a bark of laughter and boost after her, my guns never letting up. If I could just get her shields down, I could-
Frame shift charge detected
Son of a bitch.
“Anna, she's jumping out.”
“- o after her. - handle thi – worry about me.” She was really starting to break up, but I got enough to know she'd be fine without me. I just hope she's right; I don't fancy doing the rest of this mission on my own.
The 'vette low wakes with a flash of light and a thump of sound. It strikes me as odd that she didn't high wake and try to shake me in the surrounding systems, but I take what I can get and charge my FSD. I take one more look back at the dogfight happening behind me before the jump. I really do hope she's ok.
The countdown ends and I hurtle off into space. Once I settle into supercruise, I check my sensors for any contacts. It doesn't take long before I spot her, a couple hundred seconds out. I grin and hit the throttle.
I catch up to her above what looks to be an earthlike, its continents covered in a skin of emerald green and encased in a shell of grey clouds. I yank her out of supercruise for the second time and lay into her without a moments hesitation. She does her best to defend herself, but I have her outmaneuvered, and before long her shields drop.
My comms panel registers an incoming hail, but I ignore it, instead lining up for a shot on her reactor.
I take a deep breath, allowing a satisfied smile to spread over my lips, savoring the moment of victory. Caressing the trigger, I loose two salvos of high velocity railgun slugs into their powerplant. Vented air bursts from the breach in a cloud of vapor, carrying with it globules of molten metal and solid debris. Almost immediately her drives cut out and her weapons stop firing. I shout in triumph, a rush of endorphins coursing through my body, rewarding me for a job well done.
I sit there for a moment, taking it all in, watching her drift slowly to port and fall into the planet's gravity well.
Still smiling, I key up my comms panel and hail the ship for the first time since we'd started our dance. “Warship Hammerhead, this is the Nefertiti; by order of Her Majesty the Emperor, surrender now. Any survivors will be allowed passage on my ship as prisoners of war. You will be treated fairly, you have my word.”
There is no answer but static. By now she's drifted 180 degrees, and I can see into the bridge. Yellow warning lights illuminate the interior every few seconds. I can make out figures running around inside by the sterile glow.
I frown to myself and try again. “Warship Hammerhead, this is the Nefertiti, surren-”
I'm cut off by a blast of static and a voice dripping with hatred. “Eat this, you Imperial son of a bitch!”
My eyes widen at the realization of whats about to happen, and I bank hard to port and hit the throttle. I'm too late. The corvette's cannons roar one after the other a final time, sending two large caliber rounds hurtling towards me. The first cuts through the remainder of my shields, and the second slams into my starboard drive pod at an angle, deforms, and tumbles through the interior of my ship before coming to a halt somewhere midships.
The impact slams my head into the console. As I slip into unconsciousness, I'm vaguely aware of my cockpit going dark, my engines dying, and my ship listing uselessly as it falls into the planet's gravity well.