The Networked VIII

The dinner that night is still quite large, though not as grand as the first night a few short days ago. It is still quite the extravagant affair. The crew is beginning to distrust me, hate me, as I cannot eat the food that they partake of. There’s something about it that my suit rejects. The final morning before the battle, all the sensors, the weapon systems, and the ships are checked and double-checked, it is found that everything is in working order.

The trouble is right on time, and very existent, The Prophets of the Last Eclipse’s goals have only one blatant hindrance left: a nigh-impenetrable wall of an enemy armada. These are not beings who simply do not believe in the values of Prophets of the Last Eclipse, nor are they the planet’s defenses seeking to retain their artifact, in all probability, the inhabitants (if there are any) do not even know of it. No, the armada that stands strong, poised, ready to attack and destroy, they vehemently oppose the goal of the Prophets, they seek to bring destruction to the entire galaxy, in one, final eclipse of every sun, of every star; they seek to bring Nothingness to existence.

The soldiers ceremoniously prepare, and get into their individual fighter ships as they approach their destination. Once in range, the sirens start going off. The voice over the intercom appears.
“All soldiers are to begin deployment. Good Luck.”
Vokrssel and I walk down the halls of docking ports where their fleet is taking off.
“This is only one battle in a long path. The artifact was discovered here, and we must seek to reclaim it. If we cannot obtain this artifact, those who seek to end all will see every last one of us destroyed. But we will overcome, have no fear, our souls are full, and all of our men have been training for this moment their entire lives, we will emerge triumphantly.” With that, Vokrssel shows me to my ship, and as I get in, Vokrssel goes to his own.

The battle is long and arduous, with both sides losing many members. Laser blasts fly all around, it’s a huge outer-space dogfight of immense proportions. On occasion, the clusters of ships tailing each other all around the same area, the stray blasts zoom off, hitting an unintended target, so one’s ships computers must be maintained in calculations of random spaceial velocity matrix calibrations, or one might risk friendly fire. This is how Vokrssel’s ship was taken out of commission, stray enemy fire to the wing; he had to return to the mother ship.

There were twice as many enemy ships in the beginning. The numbers are now even. The head pilot of the other side’s forces is on my tail, firing blast after blast, missing by only a few meters each time. Getting closer with every shot, he is waiting for the chance to be locked on perfectly. Enemy and friendly ships are exploding around us, some getting damaged and returning to the ship, others, being completely reduced to shrapnel.
“You’re the best pilot I’ve ever encountered,” says the enemy ship following me, “My name is Starlition, I wanted you to know the name of the man who destroyed you!” He locks on to me, and fires, a sure fire shot of destruction straight to my ship. I send my ship straight downward, avoiding the blast, and eject myself into the cold depths of space. Starlition is stunned, and, using this moment, I flip backwards, turning to face him.

[Activate: Quantum Destroyer]
I place my hands together to charge the blast. I fire, destroying his thrusters and sending him off into space.
“I’ll get you for thiiis!” he shouts as his ship hurtles out of control into the blackness.

The Prophets think the battle is won, but a huge ship, presumably the main ship where the enemy armada came from, removes its cloaking field, it has a daunting, commanding presence, with its large, flat front, a small window at the top from command, and a narrowing back. It’s massive, at almost twice the size of the Orbiter. The Prophets need an attack plan. But a full retreat is ordered by the enemy forces. The remaining armada leaves the battle towards the huge ship.

Once back inside the Orbiter, there is much rejoicing, and preparations to descend to the planet, and begin to long search for the artifact. I want no part of it. In the celebrations, I tell Vokrssel that I must leave. He understands. He does not understand my need for blood, for death, for violence: The requirement, the compulsion to remove the life from a living being. I search their databases for answers. I know of immediate revenge that will provide me with what I require: destroying Celrdrrun. I scour the Network’s databases, and trace him to the sun-planet Thértuu.


5 Responses to “The Networked VIII”

  1. I wonder why eating the food would cause him to be so sick? I wonder if it would cause a self-imploding type mechanical dysfunction. Anyways…
    Also, I missed the “[Activate: Quantum Destroyer]” type inner speech, it really helps the reader visualize the suit’s abilities better.
    I can so imagine you saying “He does not understand my need for blood, for death, for violence” in person with a deep gutteral voice, like some maniac killer! Actually, I thought of the giant planet from “Litte Shop of Horrors” saying it “Must be blood…Must be fresh!” I again wonder if that crossed your mind at all!
    Off to Thértuu it seems! It sounds like the name of a planet that would be inhabited by Avatars! Good Luck!

    • Well, it’s a soul-nourishing food. Everything the Prohpets eat is.
      Thanks for missing that part of the writing, but, the character hasn’t been in many battles recently.
      It’s impossible to describe what his inner voice sounds like.
      The next story has already been written: Intransigent, and Thértuu is quite uninhabitable. I don’t know what “Avatars” are.

  2. Does the series end at Part VIII? The Prohpets?
    I guess he hasn’t been in any battles lately…
    Humph, I meant as though it was a movie where you would hear the character’s voice in a certain way to translate his inner-monologue.
    I suppose you’ll now know what they are after reading my comment on your most recent story. Geez, you are one tough writer to compliment.

    • Yes, they are done and on their own for a long time, now.
      It’s just been a long story.
      I know what you meant.
      I’ll read that now. Comparing my work to anything else that exists is always an insult to its genius.

  3. Sweet. A nice action packed part to the story. lol @ at sending Starlition flying into space. That has to be like the biggest insult for a spaceship pilot in space. I bet all his comrades are going to point and laugh at him when he finally makes his way back to them.

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