"Not like this... NOT LIKE THIS! If I'm going out I'm taking you bastards with me!"
They fly their small, damaged, fighter, the nuclear engine warning of imminent detonation, toward the large hulking warship. It'd been a massive firefight as they defended the escape of the civilians from the raiders.
They awakened in an ICU drawer recovering from radiation poisoning and major injuries. And a military commander's face congratulating them on a job well done. -- Anon Guest
Some lay down their lives for glory. Some for love. Many, so that some rich bastard can get what they were otherwise forbidden. Oh, they're told they're fighting for their nation. For parentals. For a common but tasty peasant dish. For a common sporting passtime. They're never told what they're really fighting for, or they wouldn't fight at all.
Par was fighting for five more minutes. Ze was flying an antiquated nuclear hulk that leaked air. Hir livesuit had maxed out the rads shielding ten minutes ago. Ze was going to die and ze knew it. It didn't matter, as long as everyone else got away.
This wasn't for vainglory. It wasn't for honour. It was so that one more evacuation transit got through the wormhole and the flakk away from the raiding Vorax fleet. There would be no statues, no songs. Just the buzzing click of the geiger counter ticking away towards Par's certain death. Which, if ze didn't become a brief star in the darkness, would be weeks after ze returned to civilisation. The fact that there would be a civilisation to return to was why ze was in this hulk in the first place.
A last-ditch, desperate effort. A fight for everyone else's life.
According to the limit warnings, Par had two minutes to flee to safety or explode.
The transits weren't all through, yet. They were pushing the limits of what the wormhole could accept, risking collisions or worse in hyperspace as the rocket drives engaged[1].
Two minutes. The engines could blow. The old stinger ship could fall apart. The rads could finally do something instantly fatal.
Flakk safety.
That wasn't what Par was here for.
Ze set course for the leading Vorax warship, targeting their life support and setting hir engines to max. Leaning on the weapons buttons to fire plasma at anything that got in hir way.
"You want glorious battle, you flakkin' bastards," ze screamed, broadcasting on all channels. "Have some flakkin' glory!"
Par didn't count how many got in hir way. Didn't bother keeping score. It was about the ships in the glitching rear-view feed. How many were left? How many got out?
The Vorax flagship loomed larger and larger in hir viewport. Blotting out the rest of existence.
A song of defiance from pre-Shattering Earth came into hir head. Not really a song, more of a chant.
"I get knocked down, but I get up again! You ain't ever gonna keep me down! I get knocked down..."
The looming target. The counter ticking past zero. A bright wash of light and heat.
The ceiling of an ICU drawer. Fields of flowers in rippling grass. Birds and puppies playing. Syrupy music made for meditation. "Please remain calm. We are seeing to your health."
I was supposed to be dead, thought Par. Ze tried to speak, but found hirself capable of very little sound. Tubes in the throat tend to do that.
There were controls at hir hands. An interface designed to respond to intentional muscle movement, however weak. After a few false starts, ze sent a message, Y alive?
The response was a translated message from the Vorax leader. Powers, they were even uglier up close.
"Congratulations, warrior," said the voice of the translator, out of sync with the Vorax grunts, barks, and slurps. "You have struck an honourable blow against my fleet. We applaud your efforts, but you do not die today. You join your people for the aid you have earned. I look forward to meeting you in single combat, once you are at full health. You are a worthy foe, I look forward to killing you personally!"
This, judging by what everyone knew of the Vorax, meant that they were now best friends.
[1] Gravity drives and hyperspace do not mix very well. In the parallel universe called 'hyperspace', the gravity drives create 'time holes' that propel parts of a vessel further and faster than the rest of the ship. As you might understand, it's safer to blast propellants in order to travel in hyperspace.
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / grandfailure]
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