Joined: 12 Mar 2007
Posts: 7
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This is belongs to me, Dermot Bresnehan. No taking it and saying its yours. That right out.
And don't say anything about the name, if I continue you'll get it.
Changed name of Imperial Guardsman to Sol Messiah.
Part 1-
The ship shuddered as another titanic blast slammed into it. The lights within dimmed as the shields buckled under attack, generators sucking up power from non-vital systems.
The stamp of armoured feet echoed as the ship’s contingent of Imperial Soldiers ran throughout the steel maze. Alarms blared a warning as the vessel went through another series of shaking, this time caused by its own armament.
Were it possible to look through the windows now blocked by armour plating, the viewer would be shown a beautiful cascade of red and blue energy, streaked with streaks of yellow and rare slips of purple. The deceiving picture of glory evaporated as the blasts issuing forth from the massive fusion turrets and warp cannon, the trails of yellow left by the passage of the Kinetic Force Missiles and the purple of plasma weapons as they slammed into the shield of the giant metal monstrosity sped across the void of space.
The return fire of the Sol Messiah barely shook the renegade vessel moving towards it. Between the capital ships small, nimble starfighters were engaged in a dance of burning lasers and deadly missiles, each explosion heralding more widows and more orphans. Amid the fighters there were corvettes, small ships about 50 meters long. They were usually one of two kinds, either covered in anti-fighter turrets or anti-cruiser missile launchers and cannons. They cut a bloody scathe through the horde of tiny crafts.
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Upon the bridge the Sol Messiah, under the command of Captain Jishon of the Empire of Sol, the captain swore. At this rate the renegades would be upon them in minutes, and if that symbol was the one he thought it was, they were doomed.
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Kilometres away, on the bridge of the renegade ship Astral Raider, a larger armoured being grinned, then threw he head back a laughed, the massive horns protruding from his head cutting the air.
The pale skinned creature’s blazing red eyes watched his prey through the bridge view port, greed filling them.
‘Soon,’ he thought, ‘soon it will be mine. The greatest source of power in existence, which can destroy a planet with one trillionth of its power. A weapon that can finally topple the so-called Holy Empire of Sol.’ He grinned again. ‘Leaving me to fill in the void with MY Empire.’
“Power officer!” the monster roared, “Divert power from secondary systems to engines and bow shields. I want the Core within the hour!”
“Diverting power, my lord.” Came the reply from his serpentine head power officer.
The beast turned to look down at his chief communications officer.
“Open a line with the Sol Messiah, I wish them to see the face of their death, the face of me, Tyrant Lord Dargurn Storm-Horn, The Thyngen of the nine Hells!"
Part 2-
Between the closing metal giants Renegade Pilot Tyrel Demon-Tooth pulled back on the joystick with his scaled and clawed hands then twisted it around to send his Advanced Light Talon-class Starfighter into a counter-clockwise spin and right diagonally upwards turn, narrowly avoid some free floating fighter debris. The lizard-like pilot then sent his fighter into a downward plummet, his black scaled pointer finger squeezing the trigger, resulting in four green lasers burying into the side of a Sol fighter beneath him. Tyrel made a quick right angle turn, keeping the belly of his fighter facing inwards as if he were following a square. He squeezed the trigger again and four more lasers flashed out and another human pilot’s atoms were scattered through space.
A third enemy who had been on his tail tried to duplicate the manoeuvre, failing and hitting debris Tyrel had by-passed, slamming into it with the long forward curving wings of the Hawk-class medium Starfighter. A wing ripped free, the fighters shields too depleted to help, the side of its cockpit being taken with the wing. This left the pilot to rely on his sealed flight suit, which could only save him for a half a Terran hour at most.
It was not to be, as Tyrel fired a single laser, hitting the pilot and vaporising his lower half.
Tyrel grinned with his humanoid face, revealing a mouth full of 2-inch long razor blade-like teeth. He was proud of his Talon fighter, it being one of the last of its kind after the Sol Empire’s massacre of his people and the destruction of their proud orbital shipyards fifty years ago. The thought of the sin that the Solians had committed against his race hardened his heat, and he swung his fighter around to find more foul humans to out fly, out gun, and out manoeuvre to death.
The standard Advanced Light Talon Starfighter’s cockpit was long; a diamond shaped with the front end longer then the short back-end. At the back was a cluster of seven bright blue glowing engines. A pair of long spikes protruded from the lower front end of the cockpit, pointing straight forward, about four meters long. From the sides of the engine, behind the cockpit, six long, curving spikes, three of space evenly on each side but none directly above or below the pilot,. They arched gently around the cockpit, ending with their tips point forward and in on line with the straight fore mentioned spikes. These spikes, or the Talons, concealed power and shield generators and were what the fighter had been named for. Between the talons four advanced space-warfare energy rifles, or simply lasers, were concealed, able to fire singularly for fastest rate of fire, in pairs for medium rate of fire, or all together for slowest but strongest rate of fire.
A low hum filled the fighter as Tyrel sent a double burst of four at another Hawk, the first quad blast draining the last of the enemy’s shield, the second burst melting the elongated egg shape of the cockpit.
Tyrel glanced at the control board in front of him, noting absently that his battle kill meter was now 31, not any wear near his personal best of 83. And what a battle that had been, he thought to himself with grin. The grin quickly died as saw what had gotten a lock on him. An anti-fighter Rainer-class corvette, the type of ship covered in rapid-fire warp and energy fusion turrets.
Damn, he thought before he thumped a switch that adjusted power diversion from sharing it evenly with a slight emphasis on speed, to focusing on speed, manoeuvrability and shields.
Right hand on the vertical control stick in front of him, left on the horizontal joystick on the side of the cockpit, Tyrel began a dazzling display of skill, moving his fighter as if it were but an extension of his own body, sending it into every evasive manoeuvre imaginable.
Not a second too soon, as the corvette opened up with all its weapons. The hail of destructive energy filled the space around Tyrel. After a full thirty seconds of danger, the attack stopped as the guns began cooling and preparing for another go. The corvette started to rotate on it horizontal axis, to allow it to fire the unused weapons on its upper side.
“No way in Hell.” Tyrel turned up towards the corvette, his missile system get a lock near instantly.
Tyrel hit another switch, opening a squadron channel. “Cannon Squadron, this is Demon-Tooth, I’m sending you the targeting data for a Rainer-class corvette. Deal with it would you.”
“As ordered General, Force missiles and plasma weapons armed, we will be in range in thirty-six seconds.” Came the reply.
As they had had this exchange, Tyrel launched a pair of force-missiles from the middle talons. The pair of missiles sped through space, taking less then two seconds to reach the corvette, hitting the vessels shields and releasing the pent up energy from their core. Waves of yellow power made the shield visible.
The missiles didn’t do any damage to the body of the corvette, but every attack drained the shields that much more, making them more vulnerable to a bombing run from the twelve Hurricane-class Heavy Starfighters seconds away from pounding the ship to bits.
Tyrel curved up past the corvette, slipping behind debris as he moved away. He would let Cannon Squadron deal with corvette. Before the pilot could set off to find some more humans to blow out of space, his comm-unit beeped at him, a special sequence that were informed him of a great deal.
“Damn.” Tyrel muttered under his breath, then keyed his personal Flight comm-channel. “Hell Flight, this Hell Leader, gather on my signal and report.”
“Hell two, I’ve got full shields and hull integrity, but only four F-missiles left.” Deron Huln, he was a four armed Milidian, tall thin species covered in short fur, with long ears, slightly pointed faces and a third eye in their forehead. And one of Tyrel’s best friends.
“Hell Three, shields at 73% and perfect hull, six Fs left.” Scythe, a Bekira. The tall bastard made a habit of pissing Tyrel off by sneaking into his cabin and using the bladelike appendages that the Bekira race concealed in their armoured carapace to slice apart his clothes. Unfortunately, they had known each all their lives, so he couldn’t kill him for no-reason.
“Hell Four, shields at 95%, hull integrity 98%, four F-missiles.” Dinrel, Tyrel’s ever-so violent little sister.
“Little bit damaged are we, sister? Can’t quite keep up with the men?” Tyrel couldn’t resist pissing his sister off. It was so easy.
Dinrel’s voice came back, insulting him in every language she knew. Which were surprisingly quite a lot.
“Anyway, mission Alpha-1 is now underway. Group up and head in, targets Alpha-One, Alpha-Two and Alpha-Three are unshielded. Acknowledge.” Tyrel said, moving into position right of and in front Hell Two, the standard wingman formation.
Three confirmations came back and Tyrel shot his flight a small data package, containing the locations of their targets upon the Sol Messiah's hull.
Alright, shift power to forward shields 140%, rear shields 60%. Weapons to 60%, engines 140%.”
The four Talon fighters sped towards the Sol Messiah, jerking their ships this way and that to avoid the weapons of the Sol ship.
Tyrel’s sensor board picked up the signal of enemy fighters approaching. He tapped in a few commands and the guns emplacements shown on the sensor screen turned orange, while the fighters turned a dark red, and the indicators telling him which direction the Targets Alpha-One, Alpha-Two and Alpha-Three turned white, purple and brown respectively.
“Hell Three, Hell Four, you two continue onto the target, me Two will deal the six fighters coming in from the port. Before you protest Four, you two have more missiles, meaning you have more firepower. Acknowledge.” Tyrel ordered.
Reluctantly they both acknowledged. The dark green Talon of Hell three and the blood red Talon of Hell Four continued on their course towards the targets on the far side of Messiah. Tyrel and Deron modified their course, turning to face the oncoming half-squadron.
Two, weapons power 115%, speed 85%, forward shields 150%, rear shields 50%, lasers to quad fire. Confirm.”
“Confirm, Lead.”
The six Sol fighters were Hawks, lasers built into where the long wings joined the main body and the wing tips. At maximum range the humans opened fire.
The black-scaled fighter pilot didn’t even bother trying to move his black Talon out of the way from the energy directed at him, Tyrel just brought his crosshair over the second leading fighter, knowing that Deron in his dark blue Talon next to him would be aiming at the leader.
The reason he didn’t dodge was because that for the Hawks to be moving at the speed they were, and if they had their shields anywhere above 65%, they shouldn’t have enough spare power to do much more then splash harmlessly against his shields and make it harder to aim.
The number of the range finder on his crosshair, appearing on the cockpits clear front steel-glass panels due to advance holo-technologies, counted down as the opponents closed with each other.
The crosshair went red and Tyrel squeezed the trigger, firing three quads over the next four seconds. Beside him Deron fired as well. Both of them hit their targets, Tyrel’s first two quad blast slammed into his targets shield, the third quad entering the hole created in the shield for a few seconds by the previous attacks. The Hawk exploded, hurling the wings away. One of the wings was blown to right and backwards diagonally, spearing the unshielded side of another Hawk.
Deron had also been successful in his attack on the lead fighter. The enemies closed, then pasted each other.
As Tyrel and Deron swung around for another run, and then hopefully a dogfight, Tyrel could help but grin.
This was the life.
End Part 2-
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I AM THE POPE OF THE WOLF! LISTEN TO ME. NOT THE OTHERS! THEY ARE FALSE PROPHETS, FOLLOW THE TRUE WAY!
PS I take request for stories, but you'd have to wait a bit. |
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