War is hell. What we do for the Emperor.
17 Oct 2015Raumfahrer Spiff
--CMDR's Log--Raumfahrer Spiff--October, 3301--War is Hell, what we do for the Emperor--I shot him down. He wasn't innocent. Of course not, he was flying for the Dawn. Anyone who flies for terrorists must have their wings clipped. And what's more, I need to get paid. That's why a CMDR lost his Viper tonight.
There had been a resurgence of enemy activity, a call to arms to refuse the new Emperor's rule as word had spread about the traitorous insurgency. For the first time in this long engagement, our victory was becoming less certain as more and more Independent, Federal, or traitor CMDRs were taken in by the fight against our Empire. High above the icy rings of Namarii 3, the Emperor's loyal forces doubled down to show that our resolve was strong and that the so-called Emperor's Dawn and any of their supporters were on the wrong side of history.
I had just finished with my fifth hostile on the seventh run of several hours of all out war. Behind me there was nothing but friendlies. I targeted the nearest threat. 'Threat... sure.' It seemed that he was already racing away from the battle into the black. His shields were back up, but he was in some hurt. He had all but given up. I saw a squad of Imperial forces behind him breaking off to take on some other pressing danger. He was hurt, but he had legs and was getting clear. At least he might have. But he was the only hostile on my screens, and I needed a target.
Before I even read the words "Mostly-Harmless" I had picked my next kill. 'A Viper? Easy.' The I.N.S. Susie Derkins, my Vulture, can take a Viper one-on-one without a single scratch. My ship keeps me safe, but what did he have? Before he could even realize I was within range, I had boosted in and dug into him with full power to my large beam lasers. His shields were melting like Panemian butter on a hot skillet, desperately clinging to every Joule. Then it dawned on me; 'He's running. He's scared. And he's... not flying very well. Is his ship malfunctioning? Or is he green? Mostly-Harmless. Am I about to shoot some rookie kid in the back as he's running from death?' I stopped firing. His Frame-Shift Drive had started it's slow wind-up, and the grip of my hand softened around my flight-stick. For a very long second, I hesitated.
'But this is war. And he is the enemy.' I hammered down on him and his shields were dust in the stellar winds. Hull, 15%. He tried a desperate last move, but all he accomplished was giving me the nice wide target of his belly. Hull, 4%. I can imagine it, I've lived it, those last aching moments of pleading to just make it just 5 more seconds until you jump free, shouting to yourself, "Charge faster! Please!” yelling at your canopy, “Don't crack, don't crack, I don't want to die, not like this."
1%. My weapons power was drained and I began taking on damage as the heat from my over-charged guns boiled both of our ships. I had to give him a few more seconds of hope as I blankly stared at the smoldering not-yet corpse of a ship, waiting for my guns to charge and cool down. Every second was one more second that I could have changed my mind. One more second closer to his drive whisking him to the warmth and safety of the nearest star-port. I squeezed the trigger. He popped.
I don't remember the name of that CMDR, but I remember the sound the ship made as it's pieces danced off my hull. For a moment, I shuddered, as my cockpit grew cold and my clammy hand came off the stick--white and cramped from the grip. But I shook it off, I had to put my head back on straight and put it behind me, because coming up starboard was a testy-looking Elite Fer-de-Lance.
A few thousand more in the bank. All hail the Emperor, bask in her glory.
P.S. I am sorry nameless CMDR. I can only hope that you would have done the same in my boots. Honor and Glory to you.
--CMDR Spiff, out--