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space twisted sharply around the capsular

2010/01/09 2 comments

Szilardis is putting me to shame, 2 to 1, and I’m the one that enjoys fiction more than him!

Please enjoy part 1 of Imprevine Gast’s latest adventures (written by Szilardis and minor edits from myself):


Space twisted sharply around the capsular, he felt as if his gut was being turned inside out. The small covert ops ship, a Caldari Buzzard-class, sat shimmering in the aftereffects of jumping across lightyears via the Stargate. Impervine Gast mentally checked his ship’s status. All green. Checking his timer, he prepared to activate his cloak as soon as the distortion field from the gate dissipated.

As the last effects of the esoteric laws of physics governing Stargate travel and related sciences began to fade the comm’s blared “Scout, status?” Gast scanned the local system on all frequencies, detecting only one other capsuleer’s signal. Cross checking the electronic signature against the alliance database soon revealed him to he friendly.

“System clear for cyno pilot, sir, jump when ready.”

“Roger, proceed to next system and hold cloak.”

The small frigate aligned towards the next Stargate. Gast held off warp for a moment as the pulsing of a cynosural field blossomed from an expendable Kestrel-class frigate. As he mentally sent the warp to and raise cloak commands, he witnessed the outlines of a Thanatos-class, two Chimera-class, and a Nidhoggur-class carriers form and solidify, accompanied by two of both the Phoenix-class and Moros-class dreadnaughts. Around them a swarm of support ships, and a single Nighthawk-class command ship materialized and aligned towards the next gate.

Gast landed on the gate, his cloaked dropped from the close proximity to another object. Being vulnerable now, he quickly sent a handshake protocol asking the gate’s systems for jump clearance. As control of his ship was transferred to the gate’s systems it was grabbed in a burst of light and instantaneously thrown light years across space.

A few seconds later when he regained his orientation the local com channels were practically buzzing. He collected the ship signatures. Most definitely not friendly.

“Reading 27 ships in system, all enemy pilots. We found them sir. Attempting to scan down capitals…hold…found them. They’re at unregistered coordinates, presumably a safe. Permission to probe?”

“We’ve being tracking these bloody bastards for over two hours, time for them to pay! 20 million to whoever brings me those carrier pilots space-frozen corpses”

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Categories: Fiction, Guest Writers

set course for orbit

2009/11/23 2 comments

Enjoy today’s fiction by guest writer, and buddy, Szilardis!

Holmun Truft was not a happy man. In fact, the four, fast Gallente Atron-class interceptor frigates that had been pursuing him and pounding away at the shields on his Caldari Merlin were ruining his day. Long since having gone cap dead, he was staying barely alive by alternating his superior tech 2 shield booster and afterburner. The afterburner he had fit on a lucky chance, due to the fact he had been investigating a deadspace complex inhabited by Guristas worked regardless of the Gallente ships’ non-stop warp jamming.

He instinctively reached and toggled his set of missile launchers and…nothing happened. The hopper was empty and had been for a while now. Damn, Holmun was running out of options. The Gallente Navy had noticed his outlaw ass enter the wrong system and dispatched 2 squadrons of three frigates each. His first fight, before the second squadron warped in had resulted in a short but brutal firefight that drained his shields and took him into low armor, although destroying two of the ships.

Now in a low orbit around the fifth planet in this backwater colony system, he considered his options and came up with only one viable chose; in atmosphere flight. He turned the (relatively) bulky frigate and angled towards the planet, punching his afterburner, turning his shield booster off yet again in hopes of having some small energy reserve.

As he entered the atmosphere his shield started to glow a hot, cherry red, and his Merlin started to buck, he watched his shields start to take damage on he readout and quickly killed his afterburner. Looking at his rearview scopes, he noticed the four Atrons wobble indecisively, then pursue, doubtless on the encouragement of command. The readouts informed him that their microwarp drives had been shut down.

The shaking grew more violent, buffting his frigate from side to side. His shields took another hit, but were still around 45%. Unfortunately, without his afterburner running, the Atrons were catching up again. He didn’t want to open up with his railguns in atmosphere, because he had no idea how it would affect them, and he would rather not waste the ammo.

Now only about 1200 meters remained between him and the surface. Beneath him deep wide canyons wound their way through the jungle, and off to his right, about 15 miles away, a river widened into a vast, verdant, delta before emptying into the ocean. A thriving port city with a distinct Gallente feel to it’s architecture towered over the plains; a few small skyscrapers towered over the others. A plan began to form.

He angled over toward the city, and let his afterburner run one cycle to keep him ahead of the Atrons just long enough to reach the city. He wAs now a mere 150 meters above the ground, a little more than twice the length of the axis of his spacecraft. The first pair of skyscrapers were approaching, and he lined up carefully. The ship’s computer measured the distance at just under eighty meters. He brought his turrets to bear, one on the base of each building. As the Gallente frigates tried to follow he fired a salvo at the skyscrapers’ bases. As the buildings started to collapse inward, the first Atron made it through. Unfortunately for it, Holmun now knew how his railguns worked in atmosphere. A volley tore through the small vessels shields and into armor, and a second sent the burning debris tumbling down into the city, where it carved through a block of warehouses.

The railgun volleys had been well aimed at the inward face of the tower. The buildings fell towards each other, dropping tons of debris ahead of them. The second and third Gallente ships flying close together were bombarded with hundreds of tons of steel and concrete. The debris overloaded the ships’ shields, smashed their armor and punctured the hull, venting fire, both ships were thrown to the ground and burred under the rubble.

The single remaining ship had no hope of puncturing his shields before going down, and knew it. It turned to flee, but too late. The capsuleer engaged his afterburner and brought the full power of his railguns to bear on the ship. A few shots punctured the shields. A few more bit into the armor peeling plates of metal from the hull and blasting it out from the ship towards the city. A final barrage sent the interceptor, now over the outskirts of the city, plummeting down in a ball of fir and shrapnel.

Aligning to orbit, Truft set course for orbit, resolving to always check route sovereignty before hand.

-END-

Categories: Fiction, Guest Writers

helm to one-oh-eight

2009/11/02 1 comment

I could feel the storm coming, those purply-orange clouds creeping their way lazily across the ocean and up the cliff towards our settlement. In the distance a thump as something hits the ground and another slowly working their way towards me. The panic starts to set in, my knuckles turn white as my grip tightens…

“Captain coded message for you from the corporation… Captain?” The comm-officer’s voice drags me back to reality. Even after all these years, and so far from home I still can’t let go. As I wipe the sweat from my chest, I order the computer to decode the message using bio-metric identification.

“She’s finished decoding Captain, it’s for your eyes only; transferring to your neo-com now.” The comm-officer whispers as he turns towards me with questioning eyes. “There’ll be none of that on my ship, officer, put it on the main screen!”

A shape beings to materialize on the screen. As it comes into focus the company’s watermark displays prominently in an overlay.

“Ayuno, due to your knowledge and experience you are hereby promoted to the rank of Commander. You are to take the Arch-Angel and rendezvous with the fleet at our corporate offices on Illinfrik VII – Moon 12 – Pator Tech School, 0430 EVE STANDARD TIME on 06.11.111.

At that time you will take command, and perform fleet exercises to your discretion. This message has been disseminate to the other captains and I will be attending to evaluate your performance.”

This is it, I say to myself, back into the cloud. “Helm to one-oh-eight, engineering prepare FTL for warp”

“HELM TO ONE-OH-EIGHT, COMMANDER” booms the officer. Commander, eh. I like the sounds of that.

Categories: Ayuno Velas, Fiction