Salvation's War: Where Does This End?
21 Jul 2022PhoenixBlue0
I looked into the face of a Thargoid last night as I broke her last heart. Robbed of my canopy, most of the noise of combat barely reached my ears, but I heard clearly the heartbeat -- the "tok ... tok ... tok" that seemed to come from the Thargoid ship. I felt the armor chipping away with each energy bolt that hit and the way my ship shuddered each time the Basilisk-class interceptor grabbed my Krait Mk. II with her electrical dampening field. I could see what looked like a cockpit, but amid the arcs of ichor-colored lightning, I couldn't see if anyone was in it.
One other Pilots Federation commander had come to fight alongside me as we fought to defend about a dozen Federal pilots. All of our ships pumped rounds from modified multicannons, missiles, lasers, and Guardian hybrid weapons into the Basilisk's carapace, forcing her to activate her "hearts," automatic repair systems that could quickly heal the ship but made themselves vulnerable in the process. Each time a heart activated, I lined up shots with gauss cannons and destroyed them. After several minutes, dancing and orbiting around the interceptor, we took out three of her five hearts.
Only then, with a series of concentrated shots, the Basilisk spiderwebbed my cockpit glass. If I'd been more careful, I might have used my ship's auto field maintenance unit to keep it intact. I was too focused on our tango and the angry, pulsing hearts that I'd destroyed. My Remlok suit's emergency helmet activated -- and with 25 minutes of life support, I had plenty of time to finish a fight, but I still wished that the glass sent flying into space might do some damage to the Basilisk on its way out.
Once the canopy failed, I knew I could only land a shot by getting close. The Thargoid's dampening weapon lined up the shots for me. We went from dancing around each other to punching each other in the face. I shattered her last heart, then poured gauss and plasma fire into the Basilisk, destroying her before she could throw up an emergency shield.
If I'd been alone, I know I would have lost. If I had, it wouldn't have been the first time. I've entered fights with interceptors before knowing I'd have to await rescue afterward. But this fight was different: Even after losing my atmosphere and two-thirds of my hull, I knew I could win -- this battle, at least.
Winning the war? That's another story entirely. I'm not entirely sure we can. I'm not entirely sure we should. I've visited the sites that used to belong to INRA, the Intergalactic Naval Reserve Arm. I know how they ended the first Thargoid war -- with lies, deceit, and a bioweapon. And I know the same man responsible for that bioweapon, Caleb Wycherly, is now developing another weapon of mass destruction, aiming to wipe out all the Thargoids forever, for their crime of not recognizing his vision of human supremacy.
The Thargoids have attacked stations and ships, killed hundreds of thousands of people. All of this is true, but it pales compared to the monstrosities we've committed upon ourselves. And if we simply left the Pleiades, and the Witch Head and California nebulas, would this violence continue? We have 400 billion stars -- would we miss a handful so much that we would wipe out an entire species rather than leave them in peace? Can we not, for once in our history, simply choose to coexist?
Even as I fight, with hundreds of other Pilots Federation commanders, to defend the people whom Wycherly has placed in harm's way, I can't help but wonder:
Do we deserve "Salvation"?
