Aratas, Celzi Heavy Cruiser
Adrian reflected that there were some days when you realise that you really should not have gotten out of bed. Those were bad days, but there were other days when you come to the realisation that pretty much every day of your life must have involved some sort of serious error to reach where you were now, and that perhaps the whole thing was worth a bit of a Mulligan.
Today was quickly becoming one of the latter.
Twelve minutes ago the Celzi fleet had finally dropped out of FTL to engage the unknown – probably Hierarchy – vessel.
Eleven minutes and fifty seconds ago the Celzi fleet had activated the enemy minefield, apparently considering it nothing more than a debris field.
Eleven minutes and forty seconds ago they had realised their mistake, and had utterly failed to do anything about it.
Eleven minutes and thirty seconds ago the mines had started striking hulls, and then the explosions had begun.
It had been a fairly intense half-minute.
Prior to dropping out of FTL, Adrian had been standing in the Cruiser’s main disembarkation room with several dozen alien marines, and all of them were wearing combat-hardened vacuum suits. He was glad that for a change somebody had seen fit to provide him with some sort of armour as well, even if it was only a marginal improvement over jack shit. It was also slightly bulkier than the standard variety, but was surprisingly comfortable and came with a communicator that was as clear as a bell, and he’d figured he might ask if he could keep this one, should he survive.
They’d also given him a gun, and had made it an anti-tank gun without him even having to ask. He wore it slung over his shoulder like some sort of action-hero, or at least as much like one as he could manage while wearing the bulky suit. And most usefully of all, Askit had quietly slipped him a wireless jackpoint in case the little Corti’s particular expertise was required.
The Alliance marines had not tried to include him in their plans, which he guessed was something along the lines of ‘go into enemy ship’ and ‘kill enemies’, and maybe even ‘capture enemy ship’. Aliens tended to be straightforward thinkers to the point of complete absurdity.
Instead they’d stared at him, and it was pretty clear that word had gotten around that the Adrian Saunders was on board. He wasn’t really sure what that meant to these people, and to be quite honest the quasi reverential attitude was even more disturbing than the two statues that the people of Irbzrk had been built for him.
He’d have to go back there at some point and burn them down again. Seriously, what the fuck was wrong with those people?
The staring and the awkwardness has been brought to a sudden end, however, by the sound of explosions wracking the Aratas. It wasn’t just the noise of the explosions, either, because the whole hull shook and rang like thunder when they detonated. It was a maelstrom of noise unlike any Adrian had ever experienced before, and he was not shocked to see the absolute incomprehension and fear evident on the faces of every marine.
Those were the kinds of expressions he’d have expected to see on the faces of raw recruits, not seasoned veterans of a serious Celzi fighting vessel, and yet all it took was a few loud bangs to break them.
Little wonder that they were so easily beaten by any human that came along. Regardless of which side, or sides, Earth picked, it was poor bastards like these who were going to get eaten alive.
“Adrian!” Askit cried over their private link, and although he sounded half-panicked he also sounded collected enough to be dealing with it. “There’ve been some developments!”
“You alright, mate?” Adrian asked him.
“I’m alive,” Askit reported. “So is Hrbrd, but atmosphere has been lost outside of our room. We’re getting into Vacuum suits. It appears that the fleet has encountered a debris field.”
“Debris doesn’t explode, Askit,” Adrian replied with certainty. “We’re in a fucking mine field.”
That was the first instance of a mine field he’d ever heard of, out here amongst the stars. As far as he’d known it had just been him to use them, or at the very least it would be another human. Did that mean that the Hierarchy included humans? Or did it mean-
“Askit,” he said urgently. “Askit, I need you to get word to Big Bird to watch out for objects coming from the-“
A nearby explosion interrupted him, shattering the disembarkation room and spraying it with deadly wreckage and flames that were nearly instantly torn back out by the explosive decompression.
The atmosphere was not the only thing that left the room; Adrian and the other marines were torn out with the enormous rush of air, ripped from the ship with a brutal suddenness that would shatter alien bodies.
Adrian blacked out.
+++++
Ten minutes and forty seconds ago, Askit had listened to the sound of Adrian being blown up and sucked out into space, and had immediately relayed this information to the completely useless Councillor who’d needed prodding to get his damned Vacuum suit on. Askit wasn’t going to die here – not when there were life pods for the taking – but if he could avoid it he’d prefer to avoid killing the Councillor just by opening the door.
“What do you mean, ‘explosive decompression’?” Hrbrd demanded, quite reasonably horrified by the sudden turn of events. “What are we supposed to do without him?”
“I was considering saving myself, Councillor,” Askit answered in his driest tone. “I suppose you might want to come along?”
He wanted to get out of there. He wanted to get out of there and to safety before whatever Adrian had been trying to warn him about made an appearance. Maybe he could even pick Adrian up on the way out? He was patched into the Aratas’ sensors, and they showed a single marine still alive – albeit drifting and unresponsive – out in the void. It didn’t take much imagination to figure out who that survivor was most likely to be.
“Attention, Command Deck,” Askit said, using his connection to the Fleet Master’s own translator to make his exposition. He wished he could have seen their faces, and in particular that of the Fleet Master himself. “The human warns you to be aware of objects coming from something. Probably the enemy ship.”
He laughed softly as he listened to the confused responses on the command deck.
Three minutes ago the command deck exploded, along with half the ship, and its metal corpse began to twist itself apart.
Askit shared a glance with Hrbrd. “We should probably hurry.”
+++++
Nine minutes ago, Hrbrd had flung himself from the front half of the Aratas towards the back, crossing the empty void with a tether to the hacker. The front of the Aratas, where they had taken quarters, had suffered the majority of the damage from the attack. Askit had rightly pointed out that if they’d wanted any kind of chance at a working life pod, they’d have to make the leap.
“This is incredibly dangerous,” Hrbrd said as he landed on the other side. Without kinetics to provide gravity, he was clinging to the broken structure jutting out from what had been the wall.
Askit launched himself across without hesitation. “What is life without risk?”
“I don’t want to hear my own words thrown back at me!” Hrbrd snapped. “Especially not from an eavesdropper.”
Truth be told he was quite impressed by the hacker’s ability and imagination; he couldn’t have imagined anyone else capable of that level of ingenuity, even if he doubted he’d ever stop worrying about being listened in on for the rest of his life.
Askit landed on the other side after a few moments, catching hold of Hrbrd’s hand to avoid floating straight past. “You have to admit that they’ve been persistent,” he said, sparing a glance at the wreckage of the sundered ship. “All this for a single human.”
“They’re not after the human,” Hrbrd replied. “Or at least not only him. I’d say they’re after you as well, Askit, but I’ve thought this over for some time and I believe that most of all they’re after me.”
“You?! What could you have possibly done to provoke this sort of reaction?” Askit asked, with an almost insulting degree of scepticism. “At least Adrian caused a galaxy-spanning crisis.”
Hrbrd paused to explain, moving deeper into the corridor where he didn’t need to look at such a significant amount of the destroyed ship. “It was my job to try and bring an end to the war. In the Dominion’s favour, of course.”
“You were a War Councillor,” Askit replied, as though that were answer enough. Perhaps he was less the cynic than he first appeared.
“And yet I sometimes felt that I was amongst the few actually pushing for victory,” Hrbrd continued. “My suspicions were realised when certain parties attempted to influence my decisions. I didn’t approve of this, and investigated it enough to discover corporate interests heavily involved.”
“Thus the plan to bring the corporations under control,” Askit said, finally beginning to understand. “You didn’t know that somebody else was behind them.”
“I couldn’t have imagined that,” Hrbrd replied. “At least I couldn’t have imagined it at this magnitude. Yours was not the only team I employed to bring an end to them, and the war.”
“You did mention there had been others,” Askit recalled.
“There are others,” Hrbrd admitted. “The pirates for one. They were ultimately working for me. Other groups as well, all of them threatening the corporations or their members. It seems they found out who was behind it.”
“They called in a favour from the Hierarchy,” concluded Askit. “Probably so that they wouldn’t appear to be making war in the streets like we’d intended to advertise them doing.”
“That’s my guess,” Hrbrd replied. “And their failure to fully deal with the issue seems to be making them desperate. Can you imagine them attacking out in the open like this before?”
“No,” Askit mused. “I can’t.”
Hrbrd looked down the corridor. With no power to light it there was only darkness, and all they had was the dim light of their suit lamps. “Here’s hoping there’s a life pod down here.”
Askit nodded. “Here’s hoping.”
+++++
Askit had been disturbed by the Councillor’s admissions, but he had to admit it explained a lot. There had been no conceivable reason for the Hierarchy to keep going after them, not unless they were so childish as to worry about their wounded pride. They were worrying about their support base, about who would lend them their influence if they didn’t make a show of protecting their backers.
They had a motive, and it was such an everyday motive that they didn’t seem half as threatening or mysterious as they had before. With that said, half of ‘piss-your-pants terrifying’ was still something to worry about, and that meant that he couldn’t be safe while Hrbrd was still in his personal vicinity. For a moment he considered killing the troublesome bastard, but he’d always been more of a clever thief than a violent one, and he didn’t have the stomach for it.
There was also the fact that it might not necessarily assuage the anger of the Hierarchy.
Five minutes ago they’d found what they were looking for.
“There!” Hrbrd called out, pointing down a side corridor. His suitlamp cast enough light for its glow to outline the reflective lines that marked an available lifepod. Apparently this section had decompressed fast enough for it to remain untouched, which was good news for Askit. He wondered, though, how many crewmen were stranded in unbreached rooms.
Probably too many to really want to think about; the corridors were remarkably empty of bodies.
They floated over to it, and checked it for damage and found none.
It was perfect.
“Thank goodness for small miracles,” Hrbrd muttered. “We’re moments away from getting out of this mess.”
Askit followed the Councillor in and began engaging the controls. “Take a seat, Councillor,” he said, gesturing to the comfortable recliners. “This will only take a moment.”
He worked quickly as Hrbrd strapped himself in. FTL controls locked on for Vezhan, where they’d abandoned the space station, and kinetics primed for landing. Askit activated them, and then, when Hrbrd was full strapped in, exited the life pod.
“What are you doing?!” Hrbrd demanded over the communicator. “Askit?!”
“I’ll find my own ride, Hrbrd” Askit replied. “It seems you’re bad company.”
He switched off the link, stepped back and watched as the life pod jettisoned, staring after it as the kinetic drive carried it away and-
A missile hit it, obliterating it in a ball of flame and shrapnel.
Askit blinked. That had not been part of the plan.
“Shit.”
+++++
Three minutes ago Adrian had woken up to find himself hurtling through space amidst a cloud of debris heading the same way. He was spinning wildly, flailing in all directions, and discovering that he could still get nauseous.
He was in a space suit. He did not want to throw up.
In the distance he saw the shape of the Aratas, or at least he did when he was pointed that way, and saw that it was broken in half and shimmering amidst a field of wreckage. It was kind of spectacular, in a brown-trousers moment kind of way. Further afield he saw similar outcomes for the other Celzi vessels, and the lithe form of a ship that still had its running lights.
The Hierarchy vessel was still fine. “That’s just fucking great.”
“Adrian?!” responded a surprised sounding Askit. “You’re awake… you’re alive and awake?!”
“Looks like it,” Adrian grumbled. “I was dreaming of having a heated argument with Jen, but as this looks like the shittier of the two scenarios I guess it’s the real one.”
“The fleet is a total wreck,” Askit informed him unnecessarily. “I’m looking for a working lifepod, not that it’ll help.”
Adrian sighed and closed his eyes again, finding that helped somewhat with the nausea. He didn’t want to ask, but he supposed he had to. “How has today disappointed us this time, mate?”
“I believe that some type of weapon is targeting life pods,” the Corti replied. “Destroying anyone trying to escape in one.”
“Those are probably missiles,” Adrian explained wearily. “It’s like they’re using the same tactics I used on the Hunters.”
“It’s very reassuring to find out that we’re up against one of your psychotic plans,” Askit replied bitterly. “You’ll be pleased to know your tactics worked remarkably well!”
“Easy does it, mate,” Adrian calmed him. “How are you guys looking?”
There was a brief hesitation. “It’s just me. That’s how I know about the missiles.”
“Shit,” Adrian replied. He wasn’t really sure how else to respond; it wasn’t as though he’d been close with the Corti Councillor, but they’d worked together and had pulled each other out of some serious shit, and that was the sort of thing that connected people even if they didn’t much care for each others company.
“How am I looking, then?” he asked. “I’m getting further away from the ship.”
“There’s nothing to slow you down,” Askit explained. “You’ll keep going for the rest of time, but at least you won’t get hit by any missiles.”
Adrian frowned. “That’s not very optimistic.”
It was probably right, though.
“Listen,” Adrian continued, feeling remarkably calm about the prospect of suffocation followed by drifting endlessly through space. Maybe it was shock – he had been blasted out of a spaceship, after all – but it seemed more likely that he’d just stopped caring about going on.
One kick too many.
“Listen,” he repeated, “there’s got to be something you can find, or something you can do. Don’t give up.”
There was some advice from a hypocrite.
“I’ve found another pod,” Askit said with a despondent sigh. “Too damaged to move, but the sensors are working. There’s probably twelve of those ‘missiles’ circling this ship alone.”
“Pity you can’t just hack them,” Adrian said with a sigh.
He was met with total silence from the other side.
A small seed of hope dared to take root in him. “Wait… can you hack them?”
“Shut up,” Askit said. He sounded busy, but he sounded excited as well. “Oh yes… oh yes I can!”
The Corti actually laughed, and sounded remarkably maniacal doing it. “Shall we see what happens when these go back when they came from?!”
“Wait!” Adrian cried out. “I’ve got a job for one of them.”
There was a brief pause. “What’s the job?”
Adrian broke into a grin from ear to ear. “Just a little plan I like to call ‘Operation Strangelove’.”
“You really are a weird guy,” Askit replied. “Go on then, tell me what to do.”
+++++
Two minutes ago, Thirteen had been satisfied with his work. Very satisfied.
The Celzi fleet hadn’t simply been destroyed. Oh no, it had been obliterated, and the few survivors were being picked off by the remaining missiles any time a life pod was launched.
Thirteen permitted himself a smile; he liked to save them for the times when he really appreciated them, when he could particularly relish them. Faces may be made to convey all manner of emotion – that was the good thing about having one – but Thirteen had never felt comfortable about broadcasting his innermost feelings to the world.
This smile was of the smug variety, and it was a good one. Today he had taken care of a threat to the Hierarchy, or at least its supporters, which amounted to the same thing. He had also dealt with the human who had repeatedly outmatched Zero.
That part was the sweetest of all. He couldn’t wait to address the Assembly, to give his first hand account of his accomplishments and, almost in passing, mention that he had done Zero’s work for him.
He could imagine it now, all eyes would turn to the Corti-bodied imbecile who’d taken them from the shadows and driven them into the light, forcing them to act like other, lesser organisations. Thirteen had heard that Corti were supposed to be the most intelligent of races, but Zero certainly put that lie to rest.
A contented sigh escaped his lips as he disconnected from the direct interface. It was time to let the automated systems do their work, and to enjoy a celebratory drink.
Thirteen was not inclined to vices, but he did have a particular fondness for Drtrbi Nectar, a special mix of various nectars from various planets, blended together in a formula of pure magic. It was the most delicious thing he had ever tasted, and he kept the special premium blends on hand for special occasions.
This success certainly qualified as a special occasion, and he filled his glass to the brim with the thick amber fluid. A heady aroma rose from the mixture, almost as remarkable as the liquid itself, and he took a long sniff of it before putting the glass to his lips. This moment was, by far, the best reason to have taste-buds, but it must always be relished.
The sensors interrupted him as he was about to taste.
“Debris incoming,” the ship alerted him, its warning systems activated. “Deploying kinetic deflectors.”
Thirteen frowned, bothered by the untimely interruption of his special moment. The Elinee was in no danger from mere debris, and there was going to be plenty of that in the area. “Disable future warnings of debris,” he said, securing peace for the period of his imbibing.
He took a small sip, swishing it around his mouth to properly experience all of the flavours, and the sensation sent a shiver of pleasure down his long spine.
“Delicious,” he gasped, when the sensation subsided.
That was when the explosions started.
+++++
Thirty seconds ago the explosions started.
Adrian laughed madly, as did Askit who was sitting behind him. The sight of that fucking ship taking eleven doses of its own medicine was a true joy to behold, and streaking towards the other side of the vessel on an actual missile – where they would hopefully avoid the massive cloud of debris being ejected from the conflagration – made Adrian feel every bit like Major Kong.
Except hopefully without the dying part.
“I kind of wish I had a cowboy hat to wave around,” he confided in Askit.
“You realise that doesn’t make any sense to me, yes?” Askit asked him. “In fact I’d be surprised if it made sense to anybody.”
“It’s a fucking film reference,” Adrian told him. “Doctor Strangelove… this guy rides a nuclear bomb… it’s a classic…”
He could feel the Corti’s bored silence.
“You know what?” Adrian asked. “Don’t even fucking worry about it.”
“Already on that,” Askit replied sarcastically. “Is there a second element to this ‘Operation Strangelove’ or is it all about hat-waving?”
“Simple,” Adrian said with a grin, “we find an airlock, you jimmy the fucker open, and we go inside.”
“I see you’ve thought this through,” Askit retorted. “What happens when your masterpiece of a plan fails?”
Adrian grunted, annoyed by the natural assumption that his plan was bound to fail. “Then we switch to Plan B.”
“You hate Plan B,” the Corti reminded him, and he was right. Plan B was always the same, involving the very in depth process of Adrian running in and killing everything.
“Let’s focus on Plan A then,” Adrian suggested.
“I hate Plan A,” Askit told him. “It feels like you’ve just come up with it while you’ve been on this missile.”
That was uncomfortably close to the truth; Adrian had come up with the plan as he’d explained it. “You can get fucked if you think I’m going to dignify that with an answer.”
Askit snorted. “Whatever you say, human.”
+++++
Touch down was made.
Askit was glad to find that the exterior of the hull had plenty of handholds that allowed them to move around, because after the ridiculous ride on the explosive weapon he’d been very happy to get the chance to dismount it. He had even persuaded Adrian to take the rest of the distance on foot, or at least by grip, since it wasn’t far.
He had insisted on bringing the missile along, however, and even went as far as using the tether as a sort of leash. “I’ll call him Bamm-Bamm,” he’d joked as he’d slipped the cord around it.
“Are you intending to take that inside with us,” Askit asked him, already knowing what the answer would be. For some reason he’d been compelled to ask anyway, as though maybe doing so would result in some outcome other than the inevitable.
“Of course,” Adrian replied, as though it were self-evident. “It might be useful.”
“It explodes,” Askit reminded him.
Adrian turned to flash a grin at him. “That’s why it might be useful.”
Askit hadn’t persisted any further, there wasn’t any point and he felt dispirited enough already. He was beginning to suspect that, even by human standards, Adrian was on the unusual end of the scale, at least compared to Jennifer Delaney. Margarita had been pretty strange by comparison as well, come to think of it.
He was disturbed by the possibility that, on Earth, Jennifer Delaney was actually the unusual one.
“Here we are!” Adrian called out, disturbing his reverie.
Askit watched as the human repeatedly tried to activate the lock and failed, growing increasingly irate with each rejection. Askit wasn’t sure why Adrian thought that a ship would allow just anyone to open the airlock from the outside, and for the time being he wasn’t interested.
“Do you still have the jackpoint?” he asked after the fifth failure.
Adrian fished it out of his external zip-pocket. “Got it.”
Askit floated around to the side of the door where the port would be, and held out his hand to receive the small item. Then he pulled back the metal slip and revealed the poorly concealed port.
He inserted the jackpoint, and the signal light on his datapad came online.
“Bingo?” Adrian asked, seeing the notification.
“Bingo,” Askit confirmed, no idea of what the word actually meant. “These ports were used for programmers to service the software that runs the door,” he explained. “It can’t actually open the door directly.”
“Then what good is it?” Adrian asked.
Askit smiled as he completed the process, waved his hand theatrically, then placed it on the security pad.
The door opened.
“It lets me upload a new version of the software that bypasses the normal security routines,” he said as he stepped inside. “Security on these things is usually awful, and this one was no exception.”
“At least we know the Hierarchy buy off the shelf,” Adrian commented as he followed, carefully helping Bamm-Bamm into the small chamber.
Askit frowned at the warhead that filled most of the room. “Careful with that,” he warned, “we’ll look stupid if you kill us in here.”
Askit suspected that they’d look stupid regardless, but there was no reason to help that image along.
He closed the door behind them and started work on the next, admittedly slightly disappointed at the exceedingly poor security in place. He promised himself that if he ever designed a starship its systems would be impregnable to clever people like him.
The upload completed and he reinitialised the software; the door was now theirs for the taking. “All good,” he said with a sniff. “Just like me.”
Adrian took a moment to ready the anti-tank gun, and turned to glance at Askit. “Do you think we can expect a warm welcome?”
Askit shrugged. “How ‘warm’ can it be?”
The door opened as Adrian placed his hand on the internal security pad, slowly parting to reveal the presence of a small robotic platform with a plasma gun mounted on top. It was pointed directly at the airlock, and immediately made the kind of noises required for a mobile gun to start shooting.
Adrian hurriedly pressed the security pad again, and the airlock slid closed.
“That might be a bit fucking too warm,” he contemplated unhappily. “Maybe there’s another way in?”
“Nowhere that hasn’t just been blown up,” Askit replied. “Was that a robot with a plasma gun?”
“Mobile weapons platform,” Adrian confirmed. “I invented it first.”
“Ah, the ultimate irony of being killed by your own creation,” Askit mused. “It’s beautifully circular when you think about it.”
“Fuck off,” Adrian retorted with a snort of laughter. “Can we get both doors open at once? I can probably shoot it with this if I’m not trapped inside the Easy Bake Oven.”
“That’s an Anti-Tank gun,” Askit replied, inspecting the weapon unhappily.
“That’s a… roboty tank,” Adrian said with a shrug. “Surely this will-“
“It might dent it,” admitted Askit, “but the name of that weapon comes from the old days when everything was made out of sheet plastic.”
Adrian looked at the gun with disappointment. “So it doesn’t do anything special against machines?”
“Not unless you count ‘failing spectacularly’.”
“Fan-fucking-tastic,” Adrian cursed. “Well, what else can we try?”
“Well, I’m no engineer,” Askit said, “but I’ve heard nasty stories about what happens when power conduits overload, and I saw several in that room.”
Adrian stared at Askit in open surprise, and gave him an appreciative pat on his helmet as he broke into a broad grin. “Oh that’s fucking genius is what that is. Now let me tell you what you need to do.”
+++++
The complete and utter ruination of the Elinee’s starboard side had been somewhat off script, Thirteen reflected as he struggled to regain control of the vessel. It was bad enough to have to deal with the extensive damage that had been caused by his own missiles, but now he needed to coordinate the urgent damage control process along with deploying countermeasures against the invaders.
He’d hardly been able to get into full immersion control fast enough to be able to get everything done, and that was the only reason he’d been able to notice that two soldiers were riding – riding! – a missile towards the Elinee’s larboard airlock. He’d immediately assumed it to be the human, and had not been disappointed; nobody else would be that insane.
He couldn’t help but consider what would come after this, once he repelled the invasion. The fact that his own weapons had been turned against him was enough of an embarrassment, and the damage it had caused was far too extensive to hide or even to repair outside of a dedicated repair port.
Then there was the fact that it had been the human who had done it. Thirteen had thoroughly derided Zero for his incompetence in bringing down a pair of humans, even with the arsenal at his command. To be so gravely countered by that same human was a fact that would no doubt come back to haunt him, and could only be mitigated by presenting the human’s corpse to the Assembly.
At least there was only one of them, so in theory he should only have it half as bad as Zero, but at the same time he could not afford any kind of failure. Thirteen’s victory must now be absolute, and the best way to do that was to employ massively overwhelming force.
The ship was crawling with the sentry-bots, but now he released the special units into the room beyond the plasma-bot. It was unlikely they’d make it past that thing – it had been refined from designs recovered from the Rauwryhr weapon designer on Cimbrean – but it was better safe than sorry, and it should at least delay him until he got the damage under control.
It was a big assumption, and Thirteen continued to keep a fraction of his attention on their position. They couldn’t stay in that airlock forever.
+++++
“Well,” Adrian announced, “we can’t stay in this airlock forever.”
“Re-programming is complete,” Askit reported. “I maximised the power requirement variable on the door open routine.”
“And I just removed the circuit breaker,” Adrian replied with a grin, tossing the small part into a corner. It wasn’t really the right name for the part, he knew that much, but it served much the same function and things tended to explode when they weren’t in place; Zhadersil had proven to be an excellent training ground in how to destroy valuable ship parts.
They opened the door to the outside, and Askit clambered out. Adrian didn’t want the little Corti anywhere near what was about to happen, and he didn’t take much enjoyment in the fact that he couldn’t be a long fucking distance away either.
But that was what Bamm-Bamm was for, he thought, and made sure the tether was nice and tight.
“Ready?” he asked over the link, his hand poised over the security pad.
“Ready,” Askit reported. “I’ve just got to press a button.”
“Nice fucking coincidence,” Adrian replied with an evil grin. “Go!”
He pushed the button, and the airlock slammed itself open at full force, revealing the plasma-bot inside. Adrian, however, was already being pulled out into space on some insane variant of a bungee jump, and was spinning wildly out of control, and more importantly out of sight, as the small burst of plasma plumed out.
Moments later a much larger burst of plasma plumed from the airlock, a boiling rush of burning air and metal vapour carried out by the explosive decompression. Kinetic generators weren’t sturdy things when faced with million-degree heat and right now they were likely turning into semi-molten slag; they might even have been part of that blast.
The power spiked, and the running lights failed, and the Hierarchy vessel went dark.
They stared around at the situation for a moment in total disbelief.
“I think we killed it?” Askit asked, turning to Adrian for some kind of confirmation.
“Fuck,” Adrian drawled out. “We really are good.”
+++++