My entry, a sci-fi story influenced by Halo and a few other things. It is part of something larger I wrote, but it works on its own as well. I'm retitling it here, because its present title doesn't make much sense without the rest of it.
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Routine Patrol
“Nikolai, that’s not what I think it is, is it?” Commander Zachary Spencer nervously ran his fingers through his short, dirty blonde hair.
Nikolai’s translucent silver form shimmered as he ran the objects through his memory banks. It took him all of a tenth of a second.
“It is difficult to tell at this distance, commander, but I believe that it is indeed a Void battle group.” Nikolai said with his trademark care and deliberation.
“How many?” Spencer said, the tension in his voice audible to his crew, putting them all on edge.
“Two Kronos-Class cruisers, two Oranos-frigates, five Oceanus-destroyers, and a Tartarus-battleship.”
Spencer sighed. “Ten ships.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Identify their course, Nikolai.”
Nikolai’s eyes went blank. Then, the black pupil reappeared. “All ships headed directly for us. ETA five minutes.”
“Jesus, they’re really hauling ass… We don’t have time to charge the engines for a jump.”
Lieutenant Karraker turned his chair to face the commander. “Orders, sir?”
“Give me a minute.”
Spencer tapped his fingers on the console in front of him. His ship, the Chiron, an Olympian-Class cruiser, was formidable indeed, and the Ajax, an Argonaut-Class destroyer, was no push-over either, but they were outnumbered and outgunned. To make matters worse, a Tartarus was the most powerful warship ever built.
Oh, how wrong the Admiral had been! Of course, he should have known. Nothing described as routine never went according to plan.
“Four minutes.”
He might be able to outrun them, but he couldn’t outrun their Toxotes missiles. Individually, they weren’t guaranteed to hit him at this distance, but ten ships could easily hit him just by sheer volume of projectiles.
Or he could fight. Survival was unlikely there, as well.
“Nikolai, calculate probability of survival in battle.”
Nikolai placed his hand on his chin. “The odds of succeeding in this battle are approximately three-thousand, seven-hundred, and twenty to one.”
“And if we run?”
“About the same.”
“Jesus.”
“Three minutes, commander.”
“Recommended course of action?” Spencer said hopefully.
Nikolai shrugged. “‘Go down swingin’ in a blaze of glory’, as you humans might say?”
Spencer looked up at the view screen. The ten ships had grown exponentially. He could clearly see their formation now. The massive Tartarus slid ominously across empty space at the head of the group, flanked by the Oranos frigates. The Kronos cruisers followed closely behind the Tartarus, on the wings of a line of five Oceanus destroyers. It looked like the ships would destroy them soon enough. Well, if they were going to die, he may as well let his men decide how.
He turned to his crew, who stared at him anxiously. Lieutenant Karraker had broken out into a sweat. “Orders, sir?” The lieutenant said tensely.
Spencer scanned the room, looking each of his soldiers in the eye. “That depends upon, your choice, my crew. We have two options. Run, in which case we will likely be destroyed,” Spencer paused. “Or fight and likely suffer the same fate. I leave the choice to you.”
“Two minutes, commander.”
He stared at them. “All in favor of retreat?”
Dead silence.
“Fight?”
“Aye.” All said it, but without emotion. The voices of dead men.
“Then, get to it.” Spencer said. He spun on his heel and looked back to the view screen. “Mister Karraker, arm Toxotes bays one through fifteen. Lock on to the frigates as soon as they are within range.”
“Ensign Hatchet, arm a Ragnarok.”
“Aye, sir.” Hatchet said, his voice thick with worry. He punched in the code to disable the safety on one of five Ragnarok nuclear warheads the Chiron carried.
Spencer turned to Nikolai, whose form was criss-crossed with mathematical equations. “Nikolai, send a message to Captain Stevens. Tell him to arm a Ragnarok and fire on the Tartarus as soon as it’s in range.”
“I will commander, but you know that a Tartarus can survive a direct hit from any weapon we have, thanks to its shields.”
“I don’t doubt it can survive one.” Spencer said. A small, wily grin crept up his face.
“Then why waste the missile?” Nikolai asked.
“I’m not wasting a missile. I’m spending a missile. Just do it.”
Nikolai concentrated a moment, sending the message. “There.”
“Good. Now, when the Ajax fires its warhead, fire ours so that it impacts exactly five seconds after theirs.”
Nikolai nodded. “I can do this, give or take a millisecond or two.”
“Make it so.”
Nikolai faded away. No point in being around as a distraction. He was still there, just without an avatar. But, now that he had already done the calculations and told the warhead when to fire, he had another job to attend to.
Spencer tapped a button on the bottom of the view screen, so that he was now looking out of the starboard camera. Roughly five seconds later, a jet of blue fire erupted from a port on the bottom of the Ajax, then quickly faded. A forty megaton dose of pain soared through space.
“Ragnarok impact in twenty seconds.”
Silence.
An anxious crew held its breath.
Five streaks of yellow arced from the Tartarus battleship.
Spencer cursed.
The Chiron fired its warhead.
The Toxotes missiles from the enemy battleship impacted with Ragnarok.
A ball of nuclear fire.
The Chiron’s missile soared past it.
Spencer cringed. His plan had failed and the surviving missile would be stopped by the Tartarus’s shield. The enemy’s battleship would survive.
Nikolai faded back in. “Don’t worry, commander.”
A second Ragnarok screamed out of the Ajax.
Spencer’s eyes went wide and he shot a glance at Nikolai. “You clever bastard!” He shouted, laughing. He quickly switched
his view back to the forward camera.
The first missile slammed into the Tartarus’s shields, which suddenly appeared and shimmered translucent yellow, then flickered out.
Before the shields could regenerate, the second warhead impacted. The Tartarus-Class battleship, a ship of the most powerful type in existence, detonated into a supernova.
Nikolai smirked. “I predicted that they would counter with a salvo of missiles, so I took the liberty of firing another warhead, exactly five seconds after ours. They had no chance to fire another or bring their shields back online.”
“Brilliant. Truly brilliant.”
“Of course, it was your idea, originally.” Nikolai said. The AI construct grinned. “‘Nothing too tough for a good ol’ nuke’ as you might say.”
Spencer looked over his shoulder at the crew. They were noticeably relieved. Lieutenant Karraker sighed with relief. He let them enjoy a moment more.
“Look alive, people! We aren’t out of this yet!” Spencer turned back to his view screen. “Let’s blow ‘em straight to hell!”
A rousing cheer rang out across the bridge.
“Karraker, arm fifteen more missile bays. Lock on to frigates and fire on my command. Split the number of missiles evenly between the two.”
“Yes, sir.” The lieutenant immediately set to work.
“Sir, the cruisers are moving to fire gauss cannons.” Lieutenant Akira chimed in.
“How long do we have before the electromagnets are charged?”
“Ten seconds.” Akira bit her lip.
“Karraker! Fire five pods of those Toxotes; target the nearest cruiser’s gauss cannons! On the double!” Spencer turned to Nikolai. “Have the Ajax do the same!”
Karraker’s fingers flew like lightning across his console. Twenty-five missiles flew like lightning across the view screen, all aiming for the ten forty-foot long cannons on the prow of the cruiser nearest the Chiron.
Twenty-five more missiles launched from the Ajax. The Chiron’s missiles impacted.
The shields died after only fifteen missiles, not being anywhere near as strong as a Tartarus, the remaining ten hitting full force. The gauss cannons, glowing with electricity, were suddenly turned into piles of molten slag.
Spencer breathed a sigh of relief. A gauss cannon shot would have knocked out his shields. Ten would have torn the ship asunder.
The commander looked back at the view screen and saw the other missiles hit their mark. Spencer nodded approvingly. The Ajax had gotten a better hit. A missile had soared through the bridge, destroying it utterly.
The spine of the ship detonated bit by bit, a chain reaction, when suddenly the lower decks were engulfed in fire, the oxygen inside the ship burning. The cruiser went into blazing oblivion.
In response to this atrocity, the destroyers brought to bear their mighty pulse lasers. Deadly accurate and capable of melting and cutting clean through the armor of nearly any ship, shields or not.
The long gun atop the bridge of the ships began to glow fluorescent green, charging what could be a fatal shot.
“Nikolai! Perform evasive action so that we move exactly one second before they fire!” Spencer shouted.
Nikolai’s avatar flared brightly.
The Chiron violently lurched to the left, throwing crewmen out of their seats, and knocking Spencer to the floor, hitting the edge of the console. He felt his forehead be split open by the corner of the machine.
The crew crawled back to their positions as Spencer tried to stand up. Blood filled his vision. Seeing red, he thought.
Spencer felt an arm lifting him up and he looked over his shoulder. He could barely see through the blood, but he was fairly certain it was Lieutenant Karraker.
“Sir? Are you alright?” Yep, that was Karraker. “Hey! Ensign! Get me a bandage! Now!” Karraker’s blurry red form turned back to him. “Commander?”
“I’m alright.” He said weakly. He willed himself to stand up. “Just… Need a bandage.” He wiped the blood out of his eyes with the sleeve of his uniform, staining it probably beyond cleaning.
Karraker handed him a long piece of cloth, which Spencer promptly tied about his head. It quickly turned red, but it kept most of the blood out of his eyes.
“Commander, they’re charging lasers again.” Nikolai said.
“Karraker, back to your position! Arm and launch half of our missiles at the destroyers!”
“Sir, that’s nearly two-hundred fifty projectiles!” Karraker exclaimed.
“I said fire, lieutenant!”
“Yes, sir!”
Karraker jumped over the rail and down to his station, sliding around the console into his seat. He gave the command to fire two-hundred thirty-seven Toxotes missile on board, divided between the five destroyers.
The lasers burned with red light.
The Chiron vomited forth a storm of screaming high-explosive. The cloud of azure flame surrounded the ship, a great ring, a halo. The jet trails of a tempest of Hell streamed off, ready to send their targets into the Abyss.
Spencer watched with satisfaction, even as the pulse lasers obliterated missile after missile. Soon enough, the lasers would run out of charge, and the Chiron’s weapons would strike.
A good hundred-fifty missiles made it through, roughly thirty to a ship.
The bridges of the destroyers melted and exploded, sending the ships spiraling out of control. One of the destroyers pitched to its starboard side, locking the twisted remains of its bridge onto the hull of an adjacent ship. An explosion ripped through one of their bellies, igniting their nuclear reactors.
They disappeared from radar.
“Sir!” A cry came. Spencer didn’t see who it was, but he immediately looked to his view screen.
“Missiles to port!” Nikolai announced.
“Evasive action!” Spencer screamed.
“Too late!”
An alarm sounded. The bridge was flooded with blinding light, and the temperature soared. The entire ship rocked with the impact.
Spencer was able to catch himself on the console this time, slamming a few buttons in the process, changing the image rapidly.
The ship steadied. “Damage report!” Spencer ordered.
“Shields down! Hull breaches on decks five, seven, eight, and eleven in sections alpha and gamma! Ragnarok firing system damaged. Gauss cannons inoperative.” Ensign Allard read.
“Casualties?”
“Still coming in.”
“Dammit…” Spencer said under his breath.
Allard looked up. “Five in engineering, thirteen in electromagnetics, eight in Ragnarok bays, and one on bridge.”
Spencer quickly turned and looked across the bridge. An ensign was being carried off by two deckhands. His console had exploded, killing him instantly.
Spencer slammed his fist onto the console in anger. Nothing pissed him off more than losing soldiers. Fine men and women had just died.
“Sir! The Ajax!”
Spencer turned to starboard.
The mighty Ajax was burning.
“Nikolai! Hard to port!”
“Gladly!”
The Chiron shot violently to the left, just as the Ajax’s reactor went critical.
The temperature aboard the ship spiked, more blinding light, a nuclear inferno.
Spencer steadied himself.
“Damage report!”
Allard read off the figures. “Ragnaroks inoperative, engines at twenty-one percent, gauss cannons destroyed, thirty-two Toxotes pods damaged or inoperative, four fighters damaged, one shuttle craft destroyed. Hull breaches at decks two, five, six, seven, eight, and eleven in all sections.” Allard looked up, fear in his eyes. “Sir, most of our starboard hull is melted.”
Spencer felt a chill run up his spine.
“Casualties. Seventeen more in engineering, nine more electromagnetics, forty-three in Ragnarok bays,” Spencer shivered. “Ninety-four marines, one mess-hall, fifteen hangar staff, four pilots.
“Nikolai, who hit the Ajax?” Spencer asked, his heart heavy.
Nikolai hung his holographic head. Even the AI could feel his pain. “The frigates got them while we were distracted."
Spencer looked at the floor. “The Ajax has been lost with all hands.” He said to his crew. The wailing cry of a bugle came over the speakers all over the ship, the haunting tune of Taps. Every instinct told him to run, to flee, but he knew they were more likely to be destroyed that way, especially with his engines at such a low level.
Spencer looked up.
“Nikolai, what weapons do we have that do work?”
Nikolai put his hand on his forehead, scanning. “Forty-one Toxotes pods, two-hundred 50 mm cannons, and…” Nikolai looked up. “The crew have gotten one Ragnarok operational.”
Karraker turned to the commander. “Sir,” He said pleadingly, eyes full of fear. “What do we do?”
Spencer turned to him, an eyebrow raised. His anger, it had given him new resolve.
“What do we do?” Spencer repeated. “Well, I really hadn’t thought about it that far in advance, but I suppose… I suppose I will put my foot up their ass.”
Nikolai looked at him. “That’s a rather old-fashioned expression.”
Spencer shot a glance at him. “Well, I’m about to open up a good old-fashioned can of whoop-ass on them.”
Nikolai rolled his eyes.
Spencer turned back to the helm. “Karraker, arm half our missile pods. I don’t care which ones, just half. Hatchet, arm the nuke. Akira! Plot a course, top speed, directly away from the frigates.”
“Away, sir?” Akira asked.
“Away, lieutenant.” Spencer replied.
“Right away, commander.”
The Chiron began to turn around, a sluggish, reeling motion, thanks to the extensive damage. The battered cruiser slowly retreated, becoming an enticing target to its foes. The frigates began to accelerate after it.
Spencer turned to his crew. “Men, I just want you to know… That you are one of the finest crews in the Sol Alliance. It has been an honor to serve with you and I am grateful to be in command of a ship with a crew so skilled,” Spencer continued. “As to destroy an entire ten ship fleet by themselves!”
“Now, listen up people! We have to destroy them before they fire, because we can’t take any more abuse,” Spencer said, eyes full of fire and voice filled with verve. “But I know, I know, that no lieutenant or ensign or marine in the Void, can match anyone here in Sol!”
There was a red flash from behind the Chiron. Spencer flipped the view to the aft camera.
Hundreds of glowing crimson pinpoints shone against the blackness of space, their launchers following close behind, the windows on the bridges like razor-edged fangs.
“Nikolai, how many missiles do you believe it would take to destroy their missiles?” Spencer asked.
Nikolai raised an eyebrow. “If I aim them perfectly?”
“Yes.”
“More than we have.”
“How many can we afford to let hit us?”
Nikolai paused. “Five.”
Spencer looked at Nikolai, then away. “Karraker, arm all Toxotes. Let Nikolai do the aiming.”
“Yes, sir.” You could have cut the tension in Karraker’s voice with a knife.
The bridge was silent except for the tapping of keys. Nikolai looked to Spencer. “We don’t have enough missiles, commander. Even if I aim them perfectly. There’s no way I can stop all of them.” He explained.
“Then, aim more than perfectly.” He looked back at Lieutenant Akira. “Akira, divert all engine power to shields.”
“That will boost shields to thirty-one percent.” Akira said.
“See it done.” Spencer ordered. Then, he reconsidered. “Divert all non-essential power to shields. That includes light and heat in crew quarters. Nobody should be in their quarters right now, anyway.”
“Aye, commander.” Akira replied. “Shields up to forty-six percent. We can now take”
“Commander! Missile impact in six seconds!” Nikolai shouted.
“Fire missiles!”
The two clouds of missiles flew at each other, red versus blue, Void versus Sol.
“Impact in three seconds.” Someone on the bridge said.
Silence. Tension.
“One.”
The Toxotes exploded into a massive inferno, the red and blue gases mixing into a deep, ethereal, violet mist. For a moment, no one could see how many missiles made it through.
A dozen red pinpoints drilled through the cloud.
Spencer instinctively ducked behind his console.
The missiles impacted. Red fire engulfed an area just outside the ship, quickly oozing through the shields. The heat on the bridge shot up like a bullet. Spencer poked his head above the console, only to see metal dripping and warping off the front of the ship.
Then, as suddenly as the blaze had come, it was gone. Spencer shot up. “Damage!”
“Shields dead, minimal hull breach on deck twelve in sector Alpha.” Allard announced.
“Well, what now, commander?” Nikolai asked.
“Hmmm… Well, I do have a plan, but it hinges on one factor.”
Nikolai arched a brow. “What would that be?”
“Is it true that Void captains are generally chosen for traits of sadism and cruelty?” Spencer asked.
“Yes. What are you thinking?” Nikolai asked.
“Do you think a Void captain would capture a helpless enemy just to torture him and watch him suffer?”
“Possibly, especially if victory looked assured.” Nikolai said, a smile playing on the edges of his silver lips. He’s figured it out, Spencer thought.
“Allard! Send a message to the hangar. Tell them to load our operational Ragnarok onto a shuttlecraft. Tell them to set its timer to detonate in…” Spencer paused. “How long do you think, Nikolai?”
“About five minutes.”
“To detonate in five minutes.” He continued. “Set the shuttlecraft to autopilot right between the two frigates. Make it dock
with one of them.”
“Yes, sir.” Allard said. “Message sent.”
“Now give me a com channel to the Void commanders.”
The screen flicked to a split-screen picture of two men, one on each side. They were both angry-looking, wearing a perpetual sneer. The one on the left had long black hair streaked with gray, far longer than Sol regulations would have allowed. He had a slick goatee, impeccably trimmed. The one on the right had short spiky blonde hair and was considerably younger than the other. His eyes were actually black, a side effect of working with Wormhole technology for too long.
“Ah, our so very unworthy foe comes to plead for his life.” The older one said.
“How… delectable…” The younger one said, actually seeming to take pleasure in this event.
Spencer looked the one on the left square in the eye. “I have indeed come to negotiate the terms of surrender. I have sent over a peace envoy,” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the shuttle flying towards the frigates. “To show our diplomatic intentions.”
The younger captain laughed. “I hope you didn’t care too much about the pilots, because they just docked with my ship.” The shuttle craft disappeared into the belly of the frigate on the left. The captain cackled again. “This will be fun…”
The older one sneered even more. “Oh, come now, commander. You couldn’t have sent a few pilots for me?”
Spencer faked a smile. Thank God, he thought. Thank God, it’s on autopilot. No telling what torture the pilots would have been subjected to. Of course, they wouldn’t have suffered anything except a nuclear explosion, but that was bad too.
“I’m sending troops in to capture them as we speak.” The younger captain said sadistically.
Spencer’s blood ran cold. There was still a minute on the timer. They could find the nuke and deactivate it!
“Excuse me a moment, captains.” Spencer said hastily. He made the “kill” gesture at Ensign Allard, who quickly ended the transmission.
“Allard, please tell me that they hid the nuke.” Spencer said.
Allard typed something, and then, after a moment, read the reply. “Yes. They hid it beneath the floor.”
Spencer sighed with relief. “Open transmission.”
The captains reappeared. They looked impatient. “What is the meaning of this?” The younger captain said. “There are no people aboard the shuttle!”
“Oh? I didn’t realize.” Spencer said sarcastically. Spencer looked at Nikolai, who mouthed ‘Twenty seconds’.
“What have you done?” The older captain roared.
“Oh, nothing.” Spencer said nonchalantly, making it all the more irritating.
The younger captain screamed with rage. “Fire the gauss cannons! Blow them to hell!”
The guns began to charge.
The younger captain leaned forward, hungry for the kill. But then, something inaudible to the Chiron's crew was yelled on his bridge. The man shot out of his chair. “What? Deactivate it! Deactiv-”
The transmission was suddenly cut off in an explosion, a firestorm that engulfed both frigates.
Before the explosion had even faded, Spencer said, “Lieutenant Akira, plot a course for Halcyon VI. Patch me in to Admiral Illyanovich as soon we are within range of communications. He needs to know a certain something about routine patrols.”
"It used to be that our elected officials were veterans of World War II, Vietnam, or the Civil Rights Movement. But with the election of Jesse Ventura in Minnesota and Arnold Schwarzenegger in California, I foresee a day when all our leaders will come from the movie Predator. Think about it. Governor Carl Weathers. No wait: Senator Predator. I bet he has some pretty interesting things to say about tort reform."
- Stephen Colbert