Natrella Violated - Chapter II; Flaming Station, Flying Snake
06 May 2018Undomyr
Chapter II - Flaming Station, Flying Snake I was right about several things and wrong about several more. The first indication of these facts came when the elevator taking Natrella back to the docking bay visibly strained at the weight. A Python might fit (barely) on a medium landing pad but it can hold far more than its berth might indicate. Especially when you cram bodies up to the bulkheads. I actually had hands and feet sticking under the control surfaces and almost had to swat some away when I needed to reach certain controls.
The thrusters fired fine, I keep my ship in fine working order and it has never yet failed me, yet being the important thing here. I took a deep breath and pushed the hat on my stick upwards, firing the ventral thrusters to take me up off the pad and into the blazing hell that was the inside of the docking bay.
They fired all right, then a whole load of nothing for long, agonizingly long, seconds. I was about to put it back down on the pad and take it back down to safety. I imagined how I would convince this mob that at least a certain amount of them had to leave the ship or it wasn’t going anywhere.
But finally it started to move, achingly slow and with tremors shaking the ship around like it was being pelted by something.
In the back of my mind I wondered if the shields would sustain any decent hits now that the ship mass was so much higher than I had designed it for. Not to mention the FSD range. It wasn’t great to begin with, that’s not what I want from my ship (at least not this one) but it would most likely be reduced to a crawl right now.
First things first though. The thing I was wrong about was that I could keep the people on the ship in order until we were at the rescue ship. They started screaming and crying and just making noises of panic and despair when they felt the ship begin to shake and saw the inside of the docking bay.
“Shut the hell up! I’m trying to fly here and if you don’t shut the fuck up I am not going to be able to focus on getting this ship to the rescue vessel and we’re all going to crash into the station and be shish-kebob!” For all the good that did. Some people shut up but some, especially the children, just kept on wailing. My teeth gritted, grinding, snarling I pushed the throttle forward and punched the landing gear button, pulling it in.
Slowly Natrella made her way to the slot, debris impacting her harmlessly but for the shield flashes of green as the repulsion fields kicked in. That made some scream, of course.
I managed to spot the lieutenant of the guard forces that had started this whole affair and motioned with my head for him to come closer.
He pushed his way through the crowd until he was on my right, a questioning look like only an officer of the law accustomed to giving people questioning looks can give you. I know the type, from various experiences with his kind.
“Okay, we’re doing this. I need you to keep these people from outright panic, because this is going to be a bumpy, scary and uncomfortable ride, short as it is. After that, I expect you to march them off of my goddamn ship double time the second the boarding ramp hits the deck. I’m not doing this to help you, I’m doing this to help me, let that be clear as day. I don’t want you here, I don’t need you here and truth be told if I had been able to airlock you the second you came aboard I would have. But here we are and we’re in this together. This ship is going to get hot, really hot, because the docking bay is a blaze of hydrogen-fueled fire. The bulkheads will grow warm to the touch and the entire ship will start to be a sweltering sauna. Keep. These. People. Calm. I have it under control but if they panic and get in my way, we’re all dead. Right here, right now.”
He looked like he was going to say something, they always look like they’re going to say something, but he didn’t. Small miracles do exist.
And boy did the ship get hot. I saw the internet heatsink rocket up past 150% and climbing when I punched the heatsink. Just one, taking it back down to 0% long enough for me to make for the slot. But that was just the internal heatsinks being cooled, the modules, the important stuff. Not the hull or the inside of the ship, or not as much at least.
“It’s getting really hot!” I heard one say, can’t have been a girl older than 10. Damn right sweetheart, it is getting really hot.
We made it out with just a touch over 70% heat before the cold of space took over and cooled it back down to its normal running temperature. Another deep breath as I aimed the nose for the rescue ship and hit the boost. It whined, it groaned and shuddered but it fired as it should have, rocketing us forward and crushing all that meat onboard into the bulkheads. More screams, of course.
At this point we were going fast enough that they could feel the acceleration in their bones as I made for safe-clearing distance to be able to engage the FSD to supercruise.
Again, it gave me a list of warnings, the ship-lady decided to inform me that the ship was far exceeding maximum optimal mass and the FSD would likely not function properly. Nothing to be done about that.
Testament to the rock-solid engineering of the Python we made it. Into SC and out of it at the rescue ship. Docking clearance requested, granted and Natrella on her way to dock. That’s when the final thing I was wrong about occurred. Flowers. spinning, revolving flowers with glowing red and yellow streaks came out of what looked like holes in the fabric of space, a roar so loud it shook the ship uttered as they fired what looked like living missiles at the rescue ship. At us. At me.
Thargoids. Interceptors, Basilisk variant. And it was over fast. The rescue ship had no guns, no defenses and it was ripped apart. Then they turned their attention towards us.
I almost panicked. Almost. Instead, I acted.
We almost made it, too.