EVE Fiction

He seized the opportunity by locking both ships in the hopes of catching them already weakened. Again, he accelerated hard and brought up the Micro Warp Drive. The Thrasher spun hard groaning and dragged him into his chair, inertia systems slow to respond as it rocketed towards the sleek Gallentean pair. Random quickly finished locking the pair into his combat computer when the scanner registered a new threat. The detonation of one green hued Gallentean Catalyst conveniently masked the presence of a Hobgoblin combat drone speeding towards him. Klaxons warned that the drone was locking.

Random spun the ship and coaxed a bit more speed, silently cursing himself as he overheated the powerful drive units. The surviving Catalyst’s pilot must have locked while he was monitoring the fight and the notification systems did not warn him. He gave voice to his silent curses as he suspected that the continued punishment must be taking its toll on the systems; and with no crew to monitor systems or make repairs, it would be just a matter of time. His Thrasher simply would not be able to put up with the combined punishment of the Hobgoblin and the Gallentean destroyer close up. He pushed hard for distance. He reactivated the Sensor Damper and locked it to the lone Catalyst. The Thrasher’s speed would normally outdistance the slower Gallentean ship but the drone gave him concern. It was easily twice as fast as the Minmatar vessel and difficult to lock because it was very small, and very quick. He began to shut down the powerful artillery cannons; a plan formulating.

He listened to the cycle of the cannons autoloaders but he knew that the drone was in firing range. A bead of sweat formed on his brow as blazing bolts creating thermal hotspots in his shields. They wouldn't hold for long. Long seconds ticked by.

In what felt like the time to terraform a planet, the cannon’s automated loaders clacked to a halt. A quick check revealed that they were loaded and primed to fire but he needed to get the Hobgoblin in the correct position. He threw the destroyer into a hard banked turn, disrupting the orbit that the drone had settled into. As it trailed behind attempting to correct the attack pattern, he jammed the trigger of the big artillery weapons, sending a single volley into the drone but it was extremely agile and only suffered a fraction of the damage from the killing projectiles. Random issued a curse in his native tongue and growled as he watched the status board for the cannons reloading another deadly round. Still the Hobgoblin rained fire, still the warnings howled as the shields continued their drop.

Carefully timing the next approaching cycle, Random threw the Thrasher into another hard bank, again forcing the drone to trail and correct its course. The ship jarred violently as the cannons sprung to life again. A primal cry escaped him as the Hobgoblin burst into metallic vapor.

His revelry ended as a new sound echoed into the control area. Shields had failed and the rending sound of armored plates echoed along the length of the Thrasher. He had given too much attention on the drone, not nearly enough on the Catalyst. For the first time, he gave thoughts to the Capsuleer implants along his spine and the icy touch of doubt crept in. If he were in his pod, the prospect of death, final death, was distant. However, without his pod, he felt very exposed. The lone Gallentean pilot was a sizeable distance away but had most likely reloaded his powerful rail guns with longer ranged ammo. Random threw the Thrasher into a shallow arcing course, allowing the speed to ramp up to maximum, while testing the range of the Catalyst’s rail gun ammunition. The cockpit grew noticeably warmer as the overheated Micro Warp Drive bled heat on to the nearby systems and his shaven scalp began to bead with perspiration. The sounds of torture on the hull plates began to subside to dull impacts as the Thrasher began to pull range. He realigned the cannons and began opening fire. He knew he had to stay as far away as possible, working the maximum range of the ammunition he carried while staying out of the Gallentean's range.

Suddenly, the sleek green metallic Catalyst detonated into a ball of flame. Crashing through the wreckage emerged the other lone Thrasher, forgotten in the last tumultuous moments. It was battered and damaged, but prepared to see the conflict to the end. Random brought the tormented drives to a shuddering halt.

Time stood still in the span of the moment that Random took stock of the Thrasher staring him down, the wrecks scattered about space interspersed with the corpses of the participants, the furious metallic clatter of the auto loaders reloading the next round into the cannons and the hiss of air and vital fluids seeping into the vacuum from his own battered ship.

His heart hammered into his ears, blood burning; singing a chorus of violence in his head.
The song propelled him into action.

"Yarrr!!!” he howled as he strained against the straps of the chair; the drives of the Thrasher burst into life. The other lone pilot responded in like fashion. Random's howl turned into a feral grin as he moved to thumb the trigger of the "9's”.

Thanks T'Esshe!

This was my first attempt at writing for a contest. I hope it goes well.

And if you lurk in RVB territory, you will see me again!

Random