惨い序盤の手
The Grim Gambit
Bridge duty.
It's never anywhere near as awesome as it sounds, especially during an interstellar jump situation. The view outside was just the whole lot of black nothing that the eyes are able to see outside a ship during a jump, the instruments were all idle as they displayed the fact that –get this– nothing was changing. Sure, time skips happily along as it always does, the distance to the destination grows shorter and shorter, but otherwise: same-old same-old.
Pigma Dengar sat in what would be the 'captain's chair', if for no other reason than it was in the center of the bridge. It didn't really matter; Adrian could run Cerberus from pretty much anywhere given a good connection to the ship's mainframe. The reason they put the young swine in there babysitting the bridge in the first place was, as they claimed, "to get you familiar with the ship." While that may have been true to some extent, it was more likely a case of "here's something to do that'll make you feel like a team-player" or even "we've all got more important things to worry about, and someone has to keep an eye on the ship." Might as well be the new guy, right?
Even doing checks on Cerberus's systems would've been more exciting, crawling through the access channels, checking up on all the bits and pieces to make sure they were all getting along. Okay, so maybe the diagnostic systems could take care of that with a few button presses, but where's the fun in that? Not to mention a computer system is only so reliable; sometimes you just have to see it with your eyeball to be absolutely sure.
But no. Here Pigma was, lounging lazily back in a larger, underused chair from which the order "Engage!" would look and sound awesome, but he wasn't idle though. In front of Pigma, what would normally have been a holographic tactical display for the command crew, was a three-dimensional representation of a four-dimensional puzzle cube. It's really much simpler than it first seems: in a one-dimensional situation, you have two 'sides': forward/backward, in two dimensions, you add left/right, third is up/down. The fourth dimension in this case were the axes 'in' vs. 'out', with an extra two 'sides' added to represent them... Okay, once you cross the threshold of the familiar 3D world into the fourth dimension, you kind-of have to tell the eyes to 'chill out', because it's just a representation of a fourth dimension, not an actual fourth dimension, like when a picture is drawn on a flat piece of paper, but looks like it has depth and dimension. If you can jump that hurdle, and have your eyes hold onto that willing suspension of disbelief, solving a 4D puzzle cube becomes just like any other: figure out the algorithm sequences, snag the shortcuts, and solve away–
Before he knew what was happening, Pigma was thrown forward out of the captain's chair through the hologram image. He landed face-down some few feet ahead on the floor, sirens and alerts ringing throughout the bridge.
"Pigma!" Malcolm's voice roared through the intercom, "Status report! Now!"
"I'm-on-it-I'm-on-it!..."
The swine scrambled to his feet back to the captain's chair, switching the holographic display to the automated diagnostic display. He was caught off his guard, completely blindsided, but there was too much panicked adrenaline going through Pigma to bother feeling the shock.
"The primary reactor failsafe's been triggered, we're running on backup. Somebody's gotta get down there and reset it, see what the damage is–"
"Great! Now what the hell happened to do that?" Malcolm barked, "What's going on out there?"
"Uhhh..." Pigma switched through the readouts to exterior sensors, and reported his findings, "I'm reading some radiation outside, and some scattered debris, like maybe someone's detonated a ship's reactor core in our path."
"Is there anyone out there?" the ram asked.
"I... I can't see anything." the swine answered, double-checking the instruments, "If there is anyone, they're hiding in the debris..."
/
/
Back inside Cerberus's brig, the same alarms and alerts heard around the ship were here also, ringing in the confined space. The table and chairs, along with all the items that were on them, lay strewn across the floor in a jumbled mess. Among the mess was a vulpine pair: one man, one woman.
James was able to stagger to his feet first out of the shambles, some of the half-eaten food smeared across his flight-suit. He shook himself off in a second, and sprung into action as his trained-in soldiery switch clicked on.
"You okay?" He asked quickly, lending a hand to help Vixy up.
"I'm not hurt," she said as she came to her senses, "not badly..."
It was the first time she'd seen James McCloud in this battle-ready state. Those once empty, briefly happy and carefree blue eyes became keen and sharp as a pair of razor blades. These were the eyes and face of someone who'd killed before, and would dutifully kill again when required of him. It was impressive, frightening, and deeply unsettling all at once. Then again, he was on their side, and that last thought came with a precious scrap of relief.
Before there was any time for anything else, the outer door to the corridor burst open, and Chakori came into the brig bounding with urgency.
"There has been a..." she paused only for a moment, fishing for an appropriate word, "situation."
"Yeah, I figured as much." James replied with just enough sarcasm infused in his voice to also say silently, "No, really? The explosions and alarms aren't obvious enough?"
"I mean a different situation," the ashen leopardess clarified, choosing to ignore his tone, "one that concerns you specifically."
"What do you mean?" the fox asked, now curious and a little worried.
"Come quickly." Chakori said as she turned back the way she came, and beckoned for James and Vixy to follow her out.
/
/
"Ooh, this Harrow fella's a real spookster, ain't he?" Malcolm mocked as he cut the intercom with the bridge.
Adrian scooped his favored coat and pulled it on, then turned to exit the medical bay.
"You keep trying to get something from our guy here." He said to Malcolm as he started out, "I'll head down to engineering and–"
"No!" the prisoner pleaded with a frightened gasp, "Don't do it, don't take the bait."
Adrian was somewhat startled by the wolf's sudden, desperate words, but the slim avian collected himself and continued on his way, "I'm going down there. We're sitting ducks until we reset the reactor failsafe."
"Wait just a minute, Ardy" the ram said, positioning himself next to the frantic lupine. "Now, you'd best explain yourself son."
"He knows, and he's waiting..." the ghostly white wolf said once again, starting to calm down a bit, "He'll pick you all off one by one from the shadows. That's how he works."
"You mean he's already aboard the ship?" Adrian asked, curious, and more than a little worried.
"How did he get aboard?" Malcolm demanded, "Where is he?"
"I don't know, but if you take the bait, he will be there, and he will kill whoever you send." the wolf said with grim certainty.
"That's not a problem." Adrian assured, "I'll bring backup–"
"Then he won't be there!" the wolf snapped, interrupting him, "He's not stupid, he won't spring his trap if you just try to trap him back. He'll slink away and try something else... something worse."
"How in hell is he going to know?" the ram questioned again, growing more irritated with each passing second, "Who are his accomplices?"
"He'll know, he'll just know, and he'll hunt you all down and knock each and every one of you until there's nobody left... and then he'll kill me too."
"Then cooperate with us, help us." Adrian said, trying to calm the frantic prisoner down, "We can protect you."
"No, you can't, not from him..."
He started to... 'chuckle' might've been an appropriate verb, but it was such a morbid, ghastly, almost sob-like laugh. It was the utterances of someone who'd accepted his fate, and didn't mind being the bearer of doom-and-gloom news.
"Shit, you can't even protect yourselves."
"We'll just see about that." the ram replied with outward confidence, but hiding a troubled inward concern
"You have no idea what you chumps are up against, do you?" the wolf said, again in his confident morbid certainty, "Harrow is Cerinian, a damned bluefur, and a freaking powerful one too."
Adrian Crane and Malcolm Aries were struck silent, but for only a moment. Another second had the ram's comm headset buzzing with the irritated voice of one of his teammates, "Mal!" Scott Aberdeen barked over the comm, "We've got a problem down here..."
"What kind of problem?"
/
/
Scott was in Cerberus's main cargo bay, where the survivors from the attack had made themselves at home. The space itself hadn't changed in the slightest, still the dull gray four walls with bits and pieces around the floor, but the people had changed, and for the worst. No longer were they the quiet, shell-shocked bystanders who were simply relieved to be alive; no, they were restless, agitated, and irritated. The air in the room was filled with their grunting murmurs, their hushed whispers, the telltale signs of a powder-keg crowd on the verge of becoming something ugly...
Scott was standing sentinel, geared up with a tactical armor vest, his high-powered handgun in its holster, and the ever-present sword strapped to his back. The terrier watched over the gathered people, like an uneasy shepherd, bound to guard a frightened flock that could transform into a pack of predators at any time.
Scott turned around at the sound of the opening door, and saw Chakori leading James and Vixy into the cargo bay. He was expecting them, as apart of a plan cobbled together on the spot, but the terrier was only slightly relieved to have them here, "I hope this works, Chaks–"
"There he is!" someone from the crowd shouted.
"That's the Cerinian!" another spouted.
"It's that damned pilot!" someone else yelled out, "He survived when his whole squad perished! The bastard set them up!"
They were all looking at James, each and every one of them with vicious glares, some pointing fingers, or shaking fists. One could almost see the torches and pitchforks they could've been carrying if this were a rural town instead of a space vessel. The fox was taken aback by this sudden antagonization, that the very same people he was bound to risk his life to defend would now turn against him, and accuse him of murder. There was an urge within James that wanted nothing more than to scream back at the crowd, to tell them all how completely and utterly stupid they were being to believe what they were saying. That urge however seemed to have gotten lost in the fox's baffled, speechless astonishment. All he could do was stand there, looking dumb and clueless, while the crowd in front of him branded him a traitor...
Amidst the sudden racket and awkwardness, Vixy Reinard stepped forward in front of James and the two members of Cerberus's crew, confronting the simmering angry mob.
"How can you say something like that?" she scolded, lancing through the gathered crowd with adamant emerald eyes, "Don't you know what he's been through? Shame on you!"
"Vixy, get away from him!"
She recognized the speaker, it was one of the field crew, a normally quiet golden-furred canid named Shane. She considered him a friend, and yet even he had gotten caught up in the mass hysteria.
"I don't know what that... thing did to you, but it has to stop." Shane pleaded, "You can fight this–"
"Pipe down, the lot of ye!" Scott roared, shouting down any other attempts from the crowd, "I've known Jim here since back when he was a wee lad. I tell ye, he's no Cerinian. He's naught but pure Lylatin vulpine."
"How do you know?" someone from the seething crowd asked.
"What're ye playing at?" the terrier responded, trying to pick out the dumb question asker from the group.
"Those bluefurs can screw with your mind." the speaker explained, "They can deceive you: make you think thoughts, or hear sounds, or see visions. Those 'memories' you have of him, they might not even be real."
"And it's easy for him to dye his fur brown." another added.
"I saw him haul off that other guy, the white-furred one!" someone else interjected, "and I haven't seen him since!"
"It's because he knew the secret!" the first accuser conjectured, adding to the mob's boiling pot of fear, "I bet the white furred guy knew he's Cerinian! And the bluefur killed him because of it!"
"Murderer!"
"Traitor!"
"Get him!"
Just as the crowd was mustering to swarm, Scott stepped up to challenge them, drawing both his handgun and sword, brandishing them toward the crowd.
"Stay back! Or so help me, I'll cut down every last bloody one of ye!"
The terrier's burning eyes scorched into the mass of irritated refugees, matching their angry sneers with a fiery grimace.
"Like hell you would!" someone scoffed, unimpressed.
"Oh yeah you little scrapper?" another dared, stepping up to challenge the terrier, "Then put your money where your mouth–"
* Blam! *
Scott fired a blazing blaster shot, right over the head of the speaker, silencing him with the blatant threat, and drawing several near-panicked gasps from the rest.
"So..." the terrier questioned, "anyone else feelin' daft?"
Nobody else dared try to talk back to Scott after that, and just stood at their places in frozen, petrified shock. There was no way to know how long it would last though, and so Chakori took seized the chance to lead James and Vixy out of the cargo hold away from the mob, into the corridor outside.
Both of the vulpines heaved great sighs of relief when the door slid shut behind them, but they were far from comforted by their experience. James was the first to break his long-standing silence, turning to the ashen leopardess, "What, dare I ask, were you hoping to accomplish in there?"
"I was hoping, by having you there in the flesh, we could let us talk some sense into them..." Chakori began her answered, slowly shaking her head, disappointed, "But they seem to be too far-gone, as if something is fueling their fears..."
/
/
"Harrow, you magnificent bastard..." Malcolm Aries grumbled as he closed the comm channel. "accusing some other poor fella of being the scumbag you are."
"He's using them as a distraction..." the white-furred wolf explained, "a smokescreen to hide his movements."
Adrian stood there, running his hand along his slender beak while consumed in a flurry of thoughts, until he finally came to a conclusion. "Mal, we've gotta get those people off the ship."
"I think that calls for a might bit of explanation..." the ram prompted, and waited for Adrian's response.
"However this Harrow creep is playing on their fears, whether it's Cerinian hocus-pocus or just plain old stirring up trouble, we can't afford to let him have them as leverage." the slim avian expounded, "We need them all off the ship."
"No good." Malcom said with a shake of his head, "As far as we know, there's hostiles outside, waiting to trash them. Pain-in-the-butt they may be right now, but we are not going to send those folks to their death, not after saving their asses."
"Then you should just kill them all, right here, right now." Adrian retorted grimly, laying out the unpleasant ultimatum before them, "If the situation keeps going on like this, we're liable to have a full-blown mutiny on our hands, and there's no way we can contain everyone if they get violent."
"And that's when he will strike, when you're too busy to fight back." the bound lupine prisoner said, growing more calm and collected as he remained there.
"There's gotta be another way..." Malcolm said, rubbing his forehead, trying to come up with something else.
"He's not after the innocent people, but he'll use them as long as they're available." the wolf recited, his voice still steady in its morbid certainty, "Even if you don't care for their lives, they're nothing but a liability."
"I don't like it any more than you do..." Adrian said, finding himself a little astonished to be agreeing with the prisoner, " but we can either give these people a fighting chance at getting away with their lives, or we'll be forced into gunning them down ourselves."
"Alright..." the ram accepted, letting out "I take it you've got some kind of plan in the works?"
/
/
Pigma Dengar was once again in his place on Cerberus's bridge, minding his, and everyone else's business all at once. The few minutes since the ship was knocked out of its jump were nothing if not tense; Malcolm and Adrian forming a decision, Scott barely containing an angry mob, and that spooky white furred guy finally talking. In truth, the young swine had little better to do than monitor the ship's communications and sift through the surveillance feeds. The thought had crossed his mind that Harrow might go after him here in the bridge, being all alone, but the bridge was already locked down tighter than a miser's wallet. Still, Pigma had taken the precaution of going into the bridge's weapon locker and helping himself to some firepower. You can't be too careful in uncertain times like these...
"Pigma." Adrian's voice called out over the intercom.
"What's up?" he replied.
"I'm in the mainframe right now, and I'm going to initiate Cerberus's Lethe procedure."
"Yeah, I know..."
The swine cycled the console into one of its security feeds, showing the ship's mianframe, where Adrian, Malcom, and that other prisoner all stood. The wolf looked like he was in handcuffs from the picture–
"So you've been eavesdropping on our comm chatter." Adrian realized, and he looked straight through the security camera at Pigma.
"Sorry."
"Don't you apologize; don't you dare apologize for doing what I taught you..."
It was like Adrian could somehow see straight right through the camera, see Pigma's sheepish squirming, even though there wasn't any way he could.
"I need you to trust me for now, and I need you to do exactly what I say."
"Okay, shoot."
Adrian turned away from the security camera and went to work on the mainframe's interface.
"I'm preparing the Lethe procedure, just in case, and I'm splitting encryption key into two parts. I'll upload one part onto the bridge interface for you to take, and I'll keep the other with me."
"Why's that?"
"Because you're not staying aboard, that's why." the dark clad avian explained, "You, McCloud and Scott are all gonna get those refugees off this ship. They're our best flyers, and we'll need to make sure the people are kept safe on their way out. This is just a precaution."
"Okay then, so where are we heading?" Pigma opened up the navigation interface, searching the immediate area for known ports, "It's not like there's any destination options the shuttles can reach."
"Farbound station." Adrian answered," It's within a short jump's distance from here for Cerberus, and the shuttles should be able to make it."
They'd passed through it on their way out, most ships bound for Cerinia do, but looking over the file on Farbound station, there seemed to be a problem.
"Getting the shuttles to Farbound on their own will be pushing their range, I don't know if they'll–"
"I'm aware, but last I checked you agreed to trust me..." the dark clad avian looked up through the security camera one last time, and added with a tone of finality, "Get everyone onto those shuttles, and get to Farbound Station. We'll meet you there."
Behind Pigma, the entrance to the bridge unlocked and opened itself. That should've been impossible, the bridge was in a state of lockdown, no one could've gotten in, right? In a brief flash of panic, the swine went for the pistol he'd gotten, and swung it toward the bridge entrance, expecting the worst–
"Whoa there lad! Watch the firearms!"
It was Scott, of course; he had the proper clearances to get through the lockdown. He had McCloud there with him too, and both had armed themselves.
"Sorry." His heart still racing, Pigma lowered his weapon, "Just been a little jumpy since, you know..."
"Don't worry about it." Scott reassured, "Come on, we're getting off." and he beckoned for Pigma to follow them out.
"Yeah, just a second..."
Before logging off and leaving, the young swine made sure to download his part of the encryption key onto a memory.
/
/
It was an all too familiar scene.
Not a week earlier, these same people were being led onto the exact same shuttles to disembark from a ship in deep space, much in the same manner as before. The main difference between then and now was the fact that it was Cerberus's hangar bay this time, instead of the Amity's, and the people far more restless and agitated. And just like the last time, Chakori was there to see it, watching over the moving mass of people once again as she made sure everyone made it onto their shuttles safely.
After the earlier fiasco, James had elected to stay back until everyone was ready to go, and went with Scott to get Pigma out of the bridge. No one dared walk the corridors alone, lest they make easy pickings for Harrow, or whoever else may be infesting the ship, if anyone.
Just as the last of the gathered refugees boarded the shuttles, the hangar entrance opened, and three familiar figures entered: Scott, James and Pigma, but there was something else. Trailing several paces behind the arriving party was a fourth figure, wearing a black hooded sweatshirt, eyes downcast.
"Hold on," the ashen leopardess told them as they passed, "it looks like there's a straggler..."
She stepped forward to the mysterious newcomer, loosening the handgun at her thigh holster. The other didn't even acknowledge her presence, not until they were a few feet apart in the corridor, and he just stopped; at least this person looked like a 'he'. The ambiguity cleared away almost immediately when he looked up, revealing his sharp, decidedly male vulpine features, and the telltale blue color of his fur. Then a manic toothy grin took over his jaws, and a pair of pale lights flashed from his eyes–
In an instant, the Cerinian leapt into the air with a quick spin, and produced a staff in his hands seemingly from nowhere that he spun in a quick flourish as he came down. He jammed one end of the staff into the floor as he landed, and it felt as if an earthquake had gone off, throwing Chakori back off her feet from the blast.
The leopardess rolled back onto her feet, at the same time drawing and firing several shots from her blaster. The torrent of blasterfire had little effect though, as the Cerinian had enveloped himself in a protective field that harmlessly absorbed the shots, and he advanced toward Chakori unhindered. With her firearm rendered moot, the feline fighter tossed it aside and drew her distinct forward deflected knife instead, diving into furious combat against the Cerinian.
The movements were fast, too fast to easily capture in detail, but in general, Chakori tried to keep as close as possible –inside the arcs of the staff– in order to grapple her opponent and deliver the gouging knife strikes. The Cerinian was proving a slippery one though, twisting his way through and out of the leopardess's every advance, using his staff as a lever to both keep her at bay and pry her off.
In another moment, the blue vulpine broke away completely with a twisting aerial kick, followed quickly mid-air with blast out from the base of his staff that sent him rocketing away a short distance, staggering Chakori back in the process. The Cerinian hit the ground in a sprint down the corridor, but not a moment later Scott had his sword in hand, and already disappeared in a blue streak toward the bluefur.
In his sprint, the Cerinian pointed his staff toward the ground behind him and projected a spray of liquid there, some of which vaporized into a white mist. When the terrier rematerialized with a mighty sword-stroke, he found his feet were not on firm ground, but on a layer of ice. Instead of coming to a controlled stop, Scott was sliding off-balance. Before he could react, a swirling staff swing took him out at his shins, sending the terrier skidding to a halt on his face, while the Cerinian kept right on running...
Malcolm Aries had just appeared around the next corner, assault carbine in hand. The ram was greeted immediately by several blazing shots –almost like blaster bolts– from the charging Cerinian's staff. The ram had only an instant to dive behind cover on the opposite side of the corridor, shots from the staff still raining down at him.
In that same moment, Adrian swung out from behind the corner, shotgun at the ready and–
* Boom! *
The bluefur's head exploded in a pulpy red mess while the rest of his corpse tripped up and skidded to a stop at the avian's feet, or at least it would have, if the Cerinian was actually where he was supposed to be...
There was a momentary lull in this realization, at which point Adrian found his shotgun had been knocked free from his grasp, and his feet had been knocked out from under him, leaving him sprawled face-down on the hard metal floor. He turned his head, and only just saw the Cerinian turn another corner into Cerberus at his sprinting pace...
The avian pulled himself onto his feet, and found James and Pigma standing in awed shock, not doing anything.
"Go on!" Adrian shouted at them, waiving an arm toward the hangar bay, "Get out of here!"
"I'm staying–" the terrier protested as he staggered uo, and found one of his legs uncooperative from the blow it'd taken. "We can take this bastard!"
"We're not gonna sit and debate about this, Scott." Malcom growled, "We stick to the plan–"
"Tae Hell with the bloody plan!" Scott roared, limping toward his compatriots. "I'm gonna gut that filthy wanker–" he stopped short, almost tripping over when the pain in his leg spiked.
"Plan or not, you know what he will do with those people as long as they are still aboard." Chakori reminded him, her voice sharp and icy, "You have to get them away."
Scott stood there and simmered a moment, and at one instant seemed like he'd erupt with argument once again, but he didn't, not this time. The terrier clamped the lid down, and contained the furious fires in his mind.
"Fine." he uttered in a gravely voice, and shoved his sword back into its harness.
With nothing else, Scott turned and headed back toward the hangar bay, gesturing for James and Pigma to follow, and they did.
"Look," James began as they walked, "if you feel that strongly about it–"
"Even if I did feel that strongly about it, damned bluefur put me leg out of business for a while." the terrier spat bitterly, "I won't be any good in a fight, and they'll need us out there if there is an ambush waiting."
"And if there isn't?" Pigma asked.
Scott didn't answer him, not unless a disgusted grunt counted. He just made his way to his fearsome attack fighter and prepared for takeoff. James simply went through the motions laid out for the mission, such as it was, and likewise prepared his Tatpara-27 fighter for flight. Pigma boarded and took control of Cerberus's heavily armed shuttle.
Scott opened a general comm channel between the shuttles as he started taking off, and others soon followed-suit.
"All units, set your jump location to Farbound station, and make the jump as soon as you're able. Stay alert out there."
"Look, dude, I'm well..." someone from one of the shuttles responded to Scott, sheepish and awkward, "Sorry if I ever, you know, maybe said that our pilot guy was a bluefur or–"
"Quiet on the comm." the terrier cut him off, paying him little heed.
The shuttles and their escort soon found themselves outside, in the silent blackness of space. Here at least the light from Lylat's home double-star could actually be seen; a bright light at the end of an infinite tunnel, but still far off. There was suspiciously little in the way of activity, no ambush waiting for them like they feared. The whole thing started to look like an incredible waste of resources, leaving capable personnel out where they weren't needed while–
"Wait, I'm getting something..." Pigma announced over the channel.
Sure enough, several active blips began appearing on the instruments. At first, the computer couldn't resolve the difference between the floating debris and active spacecraft, but it made the adjustments soon enough. The dark painted craft were then marked with brackets on Jame's HUD, which identified a variety of fightercraft models. The more distressing fact of these new contacts however was–
"They're going for the ship!" James realized.
Instead of engaging the escaping shuttles, the shadowy fighters began swarming toward Cerberus, which was still a sitting duck.
"The Hell they are!" Scott roared over the comm.
The large Havoc attack fighter broke off from the formation, thundering toward the silent swarm with guns blazing. A few of the dark craft were shredded almost instantly by the heavy firepower, but the swarm quickly scattered after this, and a chaotic dogfight ensued.
James broke formation also, circling toward the swirling mayhem to support his wingman. A mangled wreck would occasionally drift out from the mess, but nothing that looked like Scott's Havoc. The terrier and his heavy fighter were still in one piece, shooting up the place. All the same, the fox made sure to target and pick off any of the fighters that had a shot at Scott, using the distraction to the greatest advantage he could muster from it.
Without any other warning, the cruiser Cerberus suddenly flared back to life, firing its massive, oversized thruster array and sending the vessel soaring away. In another few moments, the ship winked completely out of existence: Cerberus had made a jump, but to where exactly was a mystery...
The hostile fighters that were still intact decided that sticking around wasn't such a great idea anymore, and used the momentary distraction to break off and make jumps of their own away from the pair of ace pilots.
"What the bloody hell was that for?" Scott asked, to nobody in particular.
"We're supposed to be headed to Farboud." Pigma reminded him, "I bet that's where they went... They're gonna be fine." the final phrase carried a subtle hint of doubt, one that everyone was feeling to some extent.
"Right..." The terrier grumbled through the comm. "Let's get moving then."
With nothing at all left for them here, the shuttles and two fighters jumped away from the debris field toward their destination of Farbound station.
/
/
Author notes:
Hey guys, and Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays/Joyous What-Have-You!
I meant to get this out to you all sooner than today, I really mean it, but you know, the hours have ways of creeping up on you.
Yep, that's an honest-to-goodness Cerinian there, using the ubiquitous "Krystal Adventures Staff", and utilizing just about every 'special power' the staff is supposed to have in that brief fight. I'll be honest with you: I really felt like this chapter, from a writing standpoint at least, ran the gauntlet like a maniac. I didn't go to painstaking efforts to clean up all the details and make it pretty-like, which is kind-of the intention, being a faster-paced actiony type chapter. I'm not entirely sure if it was effective or not, so I'm counting on you the reader to fill me in on that part; I can't always make these assessments by myself.
(Look, I know you guys are reading this, a whole bunch of you too. Just remember: the courtesy to let the writer know what you thought of their work is always, always appreciated, no matter how inadequate you think your review may be. Your feedback is never unwelcome here, and I mean it, don't be shy or intimidated or anything.)
Take care everybody, and have fun during your preferred holiday(s)!