Page 167 of Scorching the Alien Empire
Outside, in the swirling maelstrom of hyperspeed, our shields flare a blinding blue.
“Shields at... at twenty percent, War Chieftain,” Corsark stammers, disbelief cracking his normally unwavering tone.
“Where?” I roar, my eyes darting across the navigation display. There’s nothing within range.
“Oh, would you look at that,” Drexios sneers, his words like sweet nectar to my ears. “Sneaky, big bastard, directly above us.”
Above?
At his words, the rhythmic thud of cannon fire erupts—the Voidbane’s attack resuming its onslaught.
Drexios grins, his fingers dancing over the holographic controls.
“Look at me, a sneaky Voidbane, floating on high, a voiding pain,” he croons mockingly before bursting into laughter, his hands already priming the next barrage.
I grimace, loathing this uncertainty—being caught unaware, reacting instead of controlling.
Still, I bank sharply to port, initiating evasive maneuvers while maintaining speed. Slowing down isn’t an option. The Seeker swarm behind us remains a churning metal tide, a relentless maw of jagged limbs and burning lenses, waiting to devour us whole.
Between adjustments, I narrow the navigational display’s range. The blinking blue icons sharpen, shifting from vague markers into detailed holographic constructs, morphing into precise replicas of the ships they represent.
Then I see it.
Above theRavager’s Ruin, matching our speed with eerie precision, looms a Voidbane.
A hulking mass of angular ruin, jagged and blackened like a floating slab of scorched granite. It was so close—masked by our own marker and the Battlebarge’s signal.
Sneaky indeed.
The void ignites as another barrage of plasma slams into our shields, rocking the ship. The impact ripples through the hull, a groaning, pained sound like a wounded creature struggling to stand.
Doubt gnaws at the edges of my mind. Both our ships have endured too much. Our shields are on the verge of failure. We’ve shattered their forces, torn a bloody path through their swarming ranks, executed near-perfect stratagems.
But to face a Voidbane now—under these conditions...
A cruel fate. A brutal death.
But if that is to be our end, then let it be worthy. Let us tear their throats out with our dying breath.
“Shields at ten percent, War Chieftain,” Corsark reports, his voice steady despite the weight of finality behind it. He draws a deep breath. “May Arawnoth burn away our weakness.”
“Piss on Arawnoth’s fires, you sniveling borack dung,” Drexios snaps, sneering. “I’ve got all the fire I need right here, right now. Boom!”
“Corsark, order the Battlebarge to open fire.” I command, urgency biting at my words.
“They already are.” Corsark confirms.
Drexios barks a short laugh. “Why are you panicking?” His tone is amused, mocking. “This Voidbane’s more messed up than us. It’s venting plasma likePinkieon discount night.”
He’s right. It should be wounded. We can win.
“You rude prick!”
Princesa’s shriek cuts through the tension, her voice laced with fury. She steps forward, arms raised, her eyes shimmering with shifting silver and crimson.
“I’m sofuckingtired of your bullying, Drex-iot! Don’t you know who I am? Don’t you know who you’re talking to?”
Without warning, silvery barriers materialize around Drexios.
