Revenge Rampage
01 Apr 2016TheDarkLord
Classified Location, Fer-de-Lance “TDL PhotonFlinger”.February 3302.
I had spent some days mining Osmium in the rings of HIP 21991, and TDL RockWrecker had over 280 tonnes in the hold. I was two thirds of way through the 180 light year journey across the inhabited bubble to deliver to Fraser Orbital in LHS 2936 for the Community Goal, when I was attacked within sight of my refuelling point. The Federal Agent used his Python’s interdictor to disable my Frame Shift Drive, causing me to drop into normal space. I commenced escape procedures, but it was not to be. My ship, full of valuable cargo, was blown up. I wasn’t even conducting Emperor’s business at the time.
The call from 9th Legion Headquarters came through when I was still raging. They needed my services, as soon as was practicable. The Pilots’ Federation insurance paid out a new Type-9, which I filled with cargo before charging hard back to TDL RockWrecker’s base at HIP 21991. I transferred to my taxi ship TDL Eratosthenes, roared to Kamadhenu, picked up fortification supplies, then proceeded with all haste to Malaikudi.
In the docking bay of Leopold Heckmann Ring, I watched my Asp, TDL Eratosthenes drop into the docking bay storage area. The landing pad cycled again, and presented TDL PhotonFlinger, fuelled and ready to go.
My Fer-de-Lance still looked every inch the battle weapon, with its Military Red paint job absorbing rays from the bay floodlights. I strode out onto the pad, circled the ship as per my routine, and then boarded. Once PhotonFlinger’s power plant came online, my deckhand, Baikur, disconnected the station’s auxiliary supply. I bolted through the preflight checks, and initiated the launch sequence. As the barriers dropped, I diverted all power to engines, firing a long burst of upward thrust as soon as the grapples disconnected. Gear up, I rolled the Fer-de-Lance to align with the outbound side of the mailslot and applied forward thrust to stabilise. I punched the Boost while still in the station, and my sleek arrow of death blew through the airlock at slightly under four hundred metres per second. I corkscrewed around the inevitable inbound Type-7 transporter, and boosted again while I plotted my course to the target zone. The very instant the computer completed the course plot, I initiated the Frame Shift Drive.
I was on my way to cause Federal destruction.
Fer-de-Lance "TDL PhotonFlinger" resplendent in Tactical Red en-route to mess up some Federal ships
The mission was highly covert, stealthy in nature, and carried some parameters that rendered it particularly vicious to my Federal enemies. With my weekly targets already bagged, I could afford to play fast & loose with operational risk in the name of revenge.
I met up with other Legionnaires in the target system and we tore through the enemy. It was cathartic. We saw mostly Agent ships, rather than the weaker supply transports, but all were put to the sword of our lasers. Where the enemy showed any sign of weakness we took the opportunity to practice our Plasma Accelerator technique. Ship after ship fell before us.
My lust for enemy death, and PhotonFlinger’s battlefield longevity, were such that I outlasted many comrades in the battle. They left for home systems to await the final denouement. I remained in the enemy zone.
I paired up with another commander, one who was as bloodthirsty as I. He had already taken some hull damage, and I was considering advising him to go for repair. But his shields were healthy and his technique was good. We continued.
I interdicted a Cobra, one of the older Mark 3 models. A Federal Agent, Deadly rated. We went to work on it when a previously unseen wingman dropped in. This one in a Federal Assault Ship. I always treat the FAS with respect, as they’re well armed, and their hull strength is formidable. They also like to ram their enemies.
Our two-ship wing was taking significant hits to shields. We both started to attack from greater distance. We took down the Cobra, then set to work on the FAS. Its shields were down, and the three of us played Plasma Accelerator tennis, firing huge gobs of energy at each other. Although our shields were lower than I would like, the battle was decisively in our favour. From 1.5km away, the FAS executed a turn so slow that I was able to keep all four pulse lasers banging away on its naked and failing hull. It was heading towards my wingmate on my right, as I kept firing. I was staying on target while crabbing left and yawing right, my weapons capacitor almost discharged.
The FAS continued to head towards my wingmate, but its beam laser turrets were firing on me. PhotonFlinger’s shields were absorbing the energy onslaught. I could see my wingmate’s multicannons running hot, the slugs glowing as they flew the distance betwixt his ship and the enemy.
I saw the flash. Saw the FAS explode, heard it explode. Saw the warning that more had been added to the considerable bounty on my head. I released the trigger on my lasers, executed a lazy banked turn to port, retracted hardpoints, and diverted all power to my weakened shields.
Then I heard it. A second explosion.
On my Fer-de-Lance’s dashboard, in the wingman status panel, where previously there had been an active wingmate with a ring of shields and approximately 50% hull, there was a grey circle and the legend “Destroyed.”
What. The. Actual. Fuck?
All sorts of scenarios ran through my head. I checked my systems. I replayed the battle in my mind. He had definitely been healthy, and I had definitely been firing on the enemy. And the enemy had definitely exploded. But now my wingmate’s escape pod was in a system 200Ly away, and he was firing up his new insurance payout.
Through the Hyperspace Messaging Service, he confirmed that he was OK, aside from a giant dose of irritation. The dying FAS had boosted towards him, and enough of its wreckage struck that it tore vast unsustainable holes through his hull. He was more bothered about the loss of confirmed kill vouchers in support of the Emperor’s goals than in the loss of his rebuy stake.
It made me re-evaluate my own attitude. I was now alone in an enemy system, carrying many vouchers of service for my Emperor. The fire of my anger had been doused by the knowledge that I had to set aside personal vendettas to support the Emperor’s glory. I had to discharge my duty. It was time for me to make best speed towards home, and the next stage of the mission.