Splintered Reality - Part Nine
And so the “silence” continued like this for some time…
Several hours later, Gilda, having finished her coffee, turned to Rosa during one of the brief pauses in carpet bombing.
“Well?” she asked expectantly.
“Yes?’
Another explosion rocked the ship.
“It’s been going on for some time” yawned Gilda.
“Yes” said Rosa with a pause, “Yes it has.”
“It’s not likely to let up any time soon…”
“No,” replied Rosa with a sigh, “No, I guess it won’t”
The two sat together on the Bridge of the S.S.Hammered Steel and listened to the explosions intermingled with the hum of the mining lasers for awhile before either spoke.
“We really should do something” remarked Rosa offhandedly.
“Yes, we should”
“Yes…” replied Gilda with a nod.
“Yes…” replied Rosa, as she leaned back in the pilot’s chair.
Another long pause ensued, filled by the ceaseless sounds of explosions impacting against the ship.
“Shields?” asked Rosa expectantly.
Gilda calmly glanced over at her section of the control panel. Leaning back, she went back to staring out the cockpit window, into the star filled void of space. Without turning to Rosa she replied…
“50%”
Then the bombing stopped. The momentary calm, broken only by the hum from mining, stood out in contraposition to the tremendous din that, albeit briefly, had abated. Rosa took another long sip from her flask of Arcturian whiskey.
“Where do you think its coming from this time?” asked Rosa.
Once again Gilda leaned over her control panel. She flipped a switch. Three overhead screens, showing different views of the mining ship, blinked into life. Rosa leaned over toward Gilda slightly, taking another sip from her flask. She craned her neck a bit to get a clear view of the center screen which showed the view rearwards from the ship. A very large, very deadly looking Battle cruiser of the Ferox class came into view. As they watched a flare of light filled the center of the screen – the ship had launched another missile. Calmly Gilda flipped the same switch. The screens went dead. Both women leaned back in their chairs. They both sat staring out the cockpit window as they spoke, without turning to each other.
“Battle cruiser” said Gilda calmly.
The missile impacted the shields, and the ship rocked violently.
“Yep. A big one” said Rosa, and took another long pull from her flask.
“Military?” Rosa asked nonchalantly.
“Might be. Probably mercenary.”
“What do you think they want?” Rosa remarked.
“Don’t know…” started Gilda.
Her sentence was interrupted by three missiles which impacted the shields in rapid succession.
“…but” Gilda said.
“….they” she continued
“…seem hopping mad about something.” Gilda finished.
Both women sat thinking. That “did I leave the iron on” look crossed each one’s face before Rosa came up with what she thought was a reasonable suggestion.
“What about that waitress in the bar at Arcturis 5-3 station? You tipped her didn’t you.”
“No,” said Gilda, “I thought you did.”
“Not me, I thought you did. Rosa paused, then added, Oh my. I guess we stiffed her.”
“Still,” said Gilda, “most wait staff don’t posses the financial resources to hire mercenaries with major firepower.”
“In any case, interjected Rosa, we have to do something. The bombing isn’t likely to stop any time soon.”
“Oh all right,” replied Gilda with a huff.
With that Gilda reached over to a rocker switch on her control panel. Beside it were two slide switches. She moved the slide switch all the way up to the position marked simply ‘full’. Pressed a number into a keypad next to it, and hit the rocker switch.
She leaned back calmly as a voice filled the cockpit.
I can't get no. Oh, no, no, no. Hey, hey, hey
That's what I say
I can't get no satisfaction, I can't get no satisfaction
'Cause I try and I try and I try and I try
I can't get no, I can't get no
The music was deafening. The walls of the mining ship shook even louder then they had from the impact of the missiles. Still, above the classical music from ancient earth by The Rolling Stone, the explosions could be heard dimly in the background.
“ITS NO GOOD,” screamed Rosa, “I CAN STILL HEAR THE EXPLOSIONS!”
Gilda punched the rocker switch on her control panel again and the music stopped as suddenly as it had started.
“Oh all right,” said Gilda in exasperation.
With that Gilda reached over to a small junction box between the pilots control panel and the navigators control panel. There, sent into the panel, underneath a bright red cover, was a large red button. The panel itself was boarded with stripes diagonal stripes alternating yellow and black. Above the junction box was a sign, written in fifteen major languages. The sign said simply…
“…Do not press this button.”
Gilda pressed the button.
At the rear of the ship a large square panel slid open. Behind it was the remnants of what had once been missile tubes one and two. In stead, welded into place, and covered in grey primer, was one single tube meant for a light missile launcher normally carried be a frigate – a much smaller vessel than the mining ship that was a Caladari Navy military surplus cruiser. It had been squeezed in to what had once been a much larger missile bay, but now held the outsized machinery and fusion reactors that powered the ships shields – shields normally meant for a battleship. They machinery appeared to have been shoved into place by some giant hand wielding an enormous shoehorn and a fifty gallon drum of grease. In that missile launcher was a single, solitary light missile.
It launched.
The battle cruiser to the rear of the S.S.Hammered Steel fired a salvo of six defender anti-missile missiles. They roared through space at the single light missile that the mining ship had launched like a flock of enormous birds swooping down on a mouse.
And each defender missile missed.
Inside the cockpit of the mercenary battle cruiser, the captain laughed. He made a rather rude remark, that were it translated, would have understood to be a suggestion as to the parentage of the mining ships captain, and what said captain could do with her missile – both of which were anatomically impossible.
He laughed again.
It was the last thing he ever did.
A moment later, impossibly, his ship exploded in a blinding light as shards of metal careened through space.
Several hours later, Gilda, having finished her coffee, turned to Rosa during one of the brief pauses in carpet bombing.
“Well?” she asked expectantly.
“Yes?’
Another explosion rocked the ship.
“It’s been going on for some time” yawned Gilda.
“Yes” said Rosa with a pause, “Yes it has.”
“It’s not likely to let up any time soon…”
“No,” replied Rosa with a sigh, “No, I guess it won’t”
The two sat together on the Bridge of the S.S.Hammered Steel and listened to the explosions intermingled with the hum of the mining lasers for awhile before either spoke.
“We really should do something” remarked Rosa offhandedly.
“Yes, we should”
“Yes…” replied Gilda with a nod.
“Yes…” replied Rosa, as she leaned back in the pilot’s chair.
Another long pause ensued, filled by the ceaseless sounds of explosions impacting against the ship.
“Shields?” asked Rosa expectantly.
Gilda calmly glanced over at her section of the control panel. Leaning back, she went back to staring out the cockpit window, into the star filled void of space. Without turning to Rosa she replied…
“50%”
Then the bombing stopped. The momentary calm, broken only by the hum from mining, stood out in contraposition to the tremendous din that, albeit briefly, had abated. Rosa took another long sip from her flask of Arcturian whiskey.
“Where do you think its coming from this time?” asked Rosa.
Once again Gilda leaned over her control panel. She flipped a switch. Three overhead screens, showing different views of the mining ship, blinked into life. Rosa leaned over toward Gilda slightly, taking another sip from her flask. She craned her neck a bit to get a clear view of the center screen which showed the view rearwards from the ship. A very large, very deadly looking Battle cruiser of the Ferox class came into view. As they watched a flare of light filled the center of the screen – the ship had launched another missile. Calmly Gilda flipped the same switch. The screens went dead. Both women leaned back in their chairs. They both sat staring out the cockpit window as they spoke, without turning to each other.
“Battle cruiser” said Gilda calmly.
The missile impacted the shields, and the ship rocked violently.
“Yep. A big one” said Rosa, and took another long pull from her flask.
“Military?” Rosa asked nonchalantly.
“Might be. Probably mercenary.”
“What do you think they want?” Rosa remarked.
“Don’t know…” started Gilda.
Her sentence was interrupted by three missiles which impacted the shields in rapid succession.
“…but” Gilda said.
“….they” she continued
“…seem hopping mad about something.” Gilda finished.
Both women sat thinking. That “did I leave the iron on” look crossed each one’s face before Rosa came up with what she thought was a reasonable suggestion.
“What about that waitress in the bar at Arcturis 5-3 station? You tipped her didn’t you.”
“No,” said Gilda, “I thought you did.”
“Not me, I thought you did. Rosa paused, then added, Oh my. I guess we stiffed her.”
“Still,” said Gilda, “most wait staff don’t posses the financial resources to hire mercenaries with major firepower.”
“In any case, interjected Rosa, we have to do something. The bombing isn’t likely to stop any time soon.”
“Oh all right,” replied Gilda with a huff.
With that Gilda reached over to a rocker switch on her control panel. Beside it were two slide switches. She moved the slide switch all the way up to the position marked simply ‘full’. Pressed a number into a keypad next to it, and hit the rocker switch.
She leaned back calmly as a voice filled the cockpit.
I can't get no. Oh, no, no, no. Hey, hey, hey
That's what I say
I can't get no satisfaction, I can't get no satisfaction
'Cause I try and I try and I try and I try
I can't get no, I can't get no
The music was deafening. The walls of the mining ship shook even louder then they had from the impact of the missiles. Still, above the classical music from ancient earth by The Rolling Stone, the explosions could be heard dimly in the background.
“ITS NO GOOD,” screamed Rosa, “I CAN STILL HEAR THE EXPLOSIONS!”
Gilda punched the rocker switch on her control panel again and the music stopped as suddenly as it had started.
“Oh all right,” said Gilda in exasperation.
With that Gilda reached over to a small junction box between the pilots control panel and the navigators control panel. There, sent into the panel, underneath a bright red cover, was a large red button. The panel itself was boarded with stripes diagonal stripes alternating yellow and black. Above the junction box was a sign, written in fifteen major languages. The sign said simply…
“…Do not press this button.”
Gilda pressed the button.
At the rear of the ship a large square panel slid open. Behind it was the remnants of what had once been missile tubes one and two. In stead, welded into place, and covered in grey primer, was one single tube meant for a light missile launcher normally carried be a frigate – a much smaller vessel than the mining ship that was a Caladari Navy military surplus cruiser. It had been squeezed in to what had once been a much larger missile bay, but now held the outsized machinery and fusion reactors that powered the ships shields – shields normally meant for a battleship. They machinery appeared to have been shoved into place by some giant hand wielding an enormous shoehorn and a fifty gallon drum of grease. In that missile launcher was a single, solitary light missile.
It launched.
The battle cruiser to the rear of the S.S.Hammered Steel fired a salvo of six defender anti-missile missiles. They roared through space at the single light missile that the mining ship had launched like a flock of enormous birds swooping down on a mouse.
And each defender missile missed.
Inside the cockpit of the mercenary battle cruiser, the captain laughed. He made a rather rude remark, that were it translated, would have understood to be a suggestion as to the parentage of the mining ships captain, and what said captain could do with her missile – both of which were anatomically impossible.
He laughed again.
It was the last thing he ever did.
A moment later, impossibly, his ship exploded in a blinding light as shards of metal careened through space.
posted by Sr.Julie at 4:22 PM
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