Note: This chapter was written by a friend of mine and new co-writer of Tear's of Fate, HarvKilljoy. This chapter obviously would not have been made without him.
On the bridge of the Tyger, all was quiet, much as it had been for the past twenty-four hours. Such was modern combat- periods of insanely boring inactivity punctuated by short, intense bursts of sheer, pure terror. This just happened to be the insanely boring part.
But not for Tom Malcoms, a gunner's mate down in the bowels of the Tyger. Tom had been playing five-card poker with his shipmates, one of whom happened to be the rather fetching Bella Sanchez. Her jet-black shoulder-length hair was one of the many attractive features of her physique, and not the most-noticed by many of her male crewmen.
Those features were far removed from Tom's mind as he gazed intently across the table at her, trying to gage her hand by the look in her eyes. So far, he'd been able to read a subtle hint of glee or dismay in them, indicating her having a winning or losing hand. Now, however, there was something different in those eyes- she'd looked right back at him and something behind the eyes sparked an interest from deep within Tom...
The moment was broken by an impossibly rough lurch to starboard that left the card players and their wares strewn all over the far right bulkhead. "What the foxtrot was that?!" young Blake Elwood had stammered.
"Probably one of the maintenance crew just screwin' up again", Tom muttered under his breath. Those crewmembers assigned to the maintenance sections were either loved or hated by the rest of the crew for either being incredibly skilled in their trades or for being bumbling idiots. On occasion, the maintenance teams were one and the same, depending upon how much liquor they'd taken in on their shore leave.
The alarm klaxons blared throughout the Tyger's corridors, indicating something a bit more serious had just taken place. "ATTENTION ALL HANDS- MAN YOUR BATTLE STATIONS!". It was the Captain's voice, steady but there was a tone indicating just a hint of something most of the crew had never heard before: fear.
A rush of activity blurred the scene in the enlisted's quarters as people flew into action- Tom and Bella headed toward their assigned weapons stations- gun turrets along the dorsal surface of the Tyger. They were met along the way by several fighter pilots on their way, paths crossed efficiently enough through countless hours of intense drilling.
To the casual observer, it was pure chaos. How that many bodies could move that quickly through such tight confines was nothing short of a miracle. Tom slid into the snug confines of his ball turret, just a few meters down the outer hull from Bella's own turret. A practiced eye scanned all of the monitoring systems on his HUD while fingers found their way to switches and controls, bringing the turret online in moments.
A glance skyward gave Tom's innards a reason to feel cold: several score of zerg devourers were easily visible to the naked eye- which only underscored just how close they were. "How in blazes did those mother-fuckers get so close?!" Bella had snapped over the intercom. "Doesn't matter now, darlin'! LET 'EM HAVE IT!!" Tom replied just as tensely.
Tracers arced in crazy streams from the entire dorsal surface of the battlecruiser as dozens of the ball turret gunners opened up simultaneously. The primary cannons came online just a few moments later, their discharges rumbling from deep within the ship and culminating in a bright flash of unearthly light and destruction.
First one, then two, three, a dozen of the zerg assailants disappeared in clouds of blood and gore. It wouldn't be enough though- the devourer's acidic spores were already affecting the slew-rate of the guns- Tom found it more and more difficult to quickly slew the guns around to bring them to bear on new targets.
"Bella- we've got to coordinate our efforts here!" Tom barked quickly under his breath- she'd already scored a dozen kills herself but with the added time it took to spin the turrets around, more and more of the zerg were making it through the network of anti-air fire.
On the bridge of the Tyger, all was quiet, much as it had been for the past twenty-four hours. Such was modern combat- periods of insanely boring inactivity punctuated by short, intense bursts of sheer, pure terror. This just happened to be the insanely boring part.
But not for Tom Malcoms, a gunner's mate down in the bowels of the Tyger. Tom had been playing five-card poker with his shipmates, one of whom happened to be the rather fetching Bella Sanchez. Her jet-black shoulder-length hair was one of the many attractive features of her physique, and not the most-noticed by many of her male crewmen.
Those features were far removed from Tom's mind as he gazed intently across the table at her, trying to gage her hand by the look in her eyes. So far, he'd been able to read a subtle hint of glee or dismay in them, indicating her having a winning or losing hand. Now, however, there was something different in those eyes- she'd looked right back at him and something behind the eyes sparked an interest from deep within Tom...
The moment was broken by an impossibly rough lurch to starboard that left the card players and their wares strewn all over the far right bulkhead. "What the foxtrot was that?!" young Blake Elwood had stammered.
"Probably one of the maintenance crew just screwin' up again", Tom muttered under his breath. Those crewmembers assigned to the maintenance sections were either loved or hated by the rest of the crew for either being incredibly skilled in their trades or for being bumbling idiots. On occasion, the maintenance teams were one and the same, depending upon how much liquor they'd taken in on their shore leave.
The alarm klaxons blared throughout the Tyger's corridors, indicating something a bit more serious had just taken place. "ATTENTION ALL HANDS- MAN YOUR BATTLE STATIONS!". It was the Captain's voice, steady but there was a tone indicating just a hint of something most of the crew had never heard before: fear.
A rush of activity blurred the scene in the enlisted's quarters as people flew into action- Tom and Bella headed toward their assigned weapons stations- gun turrets along the dorsal surface of the Tyger. They were met along the way by several fighter pilots on their way, paths crossed efficiently enough through countless hours of intense drilling.
To the casual observer, it was pure chaos. How that many bodies could move that quickly through such tight confines was nothing short of a miracle. Tom slid into the snug confines of his ball turret, just a few meters down the outer hull from Bella's own turret. A practiced eye scanned all of the monitoring systems on his HUD while fingers found their way to switches and controls, bringing the turret online in moments.
A glance skyward gave Tom's innards a reason to feel cold: several score of zerg devourers were easily visible to the naked eye- which only underscored just how close they were. "How in blazes did those mother-fuckers get so close?!" Bella had snapped over the intercom. "Doesn't matter now, darlin'! LET 'EM HAVE IT!!" Tom replied just as tensely.
Tracers arced in crazy streams from the entire dorsal surface of the battlecruiser as dozens of the ball turret gunners opened up simultaneously. The primary cannons came online just a few moments later, their discharges rumbling from deep within the ship and culminating in a bright flash of unearthly light and destruction.
First one, then two, three, a dozen of the zerg assailants disappeared in clouds of blood and gore. It wouldn't be enough though- the devourer's acidic spores were already affecting the slew-rate of the guns- Tom found it more and more difficult to quickly slew the guns around to bring them to bear on new targets.
"Bella- we've got to coordinate our efforts here!" Tom barked quickly under his breath- she'd already scored a dozen kills herself but with the added time it took to spin the turrets around, more and more of the zerg were making it through the network of anti-air fire.