This week's entry into Ecliptic Rift's Friday Flash Fiction.
Enjoy!
----------------------------------------------------------
The distinctive crackling sound that characterized communications funneled through communication drones, dropped surreptitiously through wormholes to connect W-Space to K-Space for corporation and private comms, was evident in KattraStarr's disapproving voice, "Should you be doing that?"
As I threw the Bam a Lam I, one of a matching set of ten Rifter's I had purchased and had my engineering crew fit out in preparation for some silly fun, into a keep-away orbit of a pursuing Amarrian assault frigate, toning down the microwarp-drive so that I didn't completely outrun the armor laden beast, I replied back, my own voice tinged with amusement and adrenaline. "How am I supposed to become a better pilot if I don't risk a few ships here and there. This fellow isn't going to catch me, and it keeps me from getting bored while I hope for a less lopsided match up."
Katt voiced her disapproval anyway, "You get blown up and it'll look bad on the alliance's reputation." She admonished me.
"Bahh, a half-mil Rifter? I'll admit, when she gets blown up, and the speaker's stop blaring Black Betty, I'll be sad for a moment or two, but if anyone gets pissed off that I'm out training in a ship that costs less than what we can make in two volleys of rockets, they're gonna need to harden up." I pulsed the MWD again, throwing the Rifter into a lazy barrel roll as the persistent Amarr continued to burn towards me.
Deciding to make a few safe points and dodge around a bit, I let the engine kick over into warp and left R3TRO behind, zipping around the system making bookmarks and otherwise amusing myself. Dropping back to his location every now and then just to get his hopes up.
"Warning: Incoming target lock." Aura piped up.
Glancing at the gate, and the Tempest battleship that was currently locking me from 150 km out, I grinned. "Amarr boy needed some Minmatar backup." I told Katt gleefully, kicking in the warpdrive again and zipping off to a nearby planet before the target lock could solidify.
Weighing my options, I decided to buzz the other stargates just to see what was around before heading back to base and docking up. As my warp-drive disengaged, I whistled appreciatively at the standing gate-camp, whipped the rifter around, kicking in the MWD foolishly to distance from the spied interceptor, despite its range.
"Well, new Tip of Experience to note in the journal, Katt." I voiced into my comms as my pod zipped safely away from my wreckage. "Don't turn on the MWD when fleeing a sniper gate-camp. Helps them lock you faster and makes the hit a LOT nastier, I've never seen my systems red-line that fast."
"I wonder if the ammo they spent cost more than my Rifter?" I asked her, despite her disapproval, as I flew my pod past R3TRO, offering a 'good job' in Local as I exited 0.0 and dropped back into High-sec space.
"Back to base. Still another 9 Bam a Lam's that need their wings shaken out."
Showing posts with label Flash Fiction Friday. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Flash Fiction Friday. Show all posts
Friday, March 12, 2010
Friday, February 12, 2010
Friday Flash Fiction 6: Nebulae
My contribution towards Ecliptic Rift's latest installment of the Friday Flash Fiction series.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ben Yelsni hunched his shoulders and gritted his teeth as he tried to ignore the fingernails on a chalkboard sound he was making with his nano-chisel against the sides of 'The Anti-Nebula', a Cyclone class Battlecruiser pressed into service as a mobile gas-harvesting plant for use in Wormhole space.
"I don't know 'bout you, Rajek, but I didn't sign up on Min's crew to kill nebulae, and I certainly didn't sign up to clean the bloody left-behind vapors off the sides of her Battlecruiser just because the harvester is smart enough not to take the unnecessary compounds, but ain't smart enough to blow them other compounds away from the darned shielding." He complained to his companion, who was far more sanguinely directing the cleaning-drone that was polishing in the wake of Ben's chisel.
The two were conversing inside the largely deserted ship maintenance array of the P2AS tower. Segregated from the rest of the crews by their loyalty to the Imperium Technologies pilot they signed on with, Ben and Rajek were often paired together aboard the myriad of ships in the Minmatar capsuleer's arsenal. They had served as the primary engineering crew on several iterations of the Rifter, Bam A Lam I through VI, aboard the slow and steady Black Betty, hauling goods throughout New-Eden, and even once upon the Hurricane Class Battlecruiser Rock You Like A... but for some unknown reason, word had recently filtered down that Ben and Rajek were to be removed from the regular crew rotation and placed on 'special assignment'.
Since that time, they'd served primarily upon The Anti-Nebula, but had also been sent to work as part of the P2AS crew in charge of ship-salvage, upon the Labrador Retriever mining common minerals, and even station duty in the hybrid polymer reactor array.
"I tell ya, we've had some hard times with the boss, but I don't know why she's singled us out for the crappiest and most boring jobs available out here in W-Space." Ben complained.
Speaking slow, as was his want, Rajek replied in his obscure drawl, "Ain't nothin' ter worry 'bout, Ben. Ah'm hearin' rumors, an they might be what's true, ye ken? Them rumors sayin' tha boss be figurin' who she'll be hirin' on fer tha first Loki to churn out o' production out here. Says she's got some folk in mind an' want's ter make sure tha crew know what went into buildin' tha beasty, tha hours an' tha 'boring' crap, so they're of a mind ter keep 'er runnin' smooth an' sure. Ye ken?"
"So, if ye wanna get yer hands on some o' that fine high-tech sleeper shizz, ye best be shuttin' yer mouth, lowerin' yer head, and diggin' that chisel a bit faster boyo. Ah'm catchin' up with this 'ere fancy polishin' rag, and ah'd hate ter 'ave ter ask tha boss ter get ye some 'elp." The Minmatar crewman smirked at his shell-shocked companion.
Ben blinked, slowly translated the drawl into more intelligible language, grinned, and turned back to his task. "Well heck yeah then, let's kill us some bloody nebulae!"
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ben Yelsni hunched his shoulders and gritted his teeth as he tried to ignore the fingernails on a chalkboard sound he was making with his nano-chisel against the sides of 'The Anti-Nebula', a Cyclone class Battlecruiser pressed into service as a mobile gas-harvesting plant for use in Wormhole space.
"I don't know 'bout you, Rajek, but I didn't sign up on Min's crew to kill nebulae, and I certainly didn't sign up to clean the bloody left-behind vapors off the sides of her Battlecruiser just because the harvester is smart enough not to take the unnecessary compounds, but ain't smart enough to blow them other compounds away from the darned shielding." He complained to his companion, who was far more sanguinely directing the cleaning-drone that was polishing in the wake of Ben's chisel.
The two were conversing inside the largely deserted ship maintenance array of the P2AS tower. Segregated from the rest of the crews by their loyalty to the Imperium Technologies pilot they signed on with, Ben and Rajek were often paired together aboard the myriad of ships in the Minmatar capsuleer's arsenal. They had served as the primary engineering crew on several iterations of the Rifter, Bam A Lam I through VI, aboard the slow and steady Black Betty, hauling goods throughout New-Eden, and even once upon the Hurricane Class Battlecruiser Rock You Like A... but for some unknown reason, word had recently filtered down that Ben and Rajek were to be removed from the regular crew rotation and placed on 'special assignment'.
Since that time, they'd served primarily upon The Anti-Nebula, but had also been sent to work as part of the P2AS crew in charge of ship-salvage, upon the Labrador Retriever mining common minerals, and even station duty in the hybrid polymer reactor array.
"I tell ya, we've had some hard times with the boss, but I don't know why she's singled us out for the crappiest and most boring jobs available out here in W-Space." Ben complained.
Speaking slow, as was his want, Rajek replied in his obscure drawl, "Ain't nothin' ter worry 'bout, Ben. Ah'm hearin' rumors, an they might be what's true, ye ken? Them rumors sayin' tha boss be figurin' who she'll be hirin' on fer tha first Loki to churn out o' production out here. Says she's got some folk in mind an' want's ter make sure tha crew know what went into buildin' tha beasty, tha hours an' tha 'boring' crap, so they're of a mind ter keep 'er runnin' smooth an' sure. Ye ken?"
"So, if ye wanna get yer hands on some o' that fine high-tech sleeper shizz, ye best be shuttin' yer mouth, lowerin' yer head, and diggin' that chisel a bit faster boyo. Ah'm catchin' up with this 'ere fancy polishin' rag, and ah'd hate ter 'ave ter ask tha boss ter get ye some 'elp." The Minmatar crewman smirked at his shell-shocked companion.
Ben blinked, slowly translated the drawl into more intelligible language, grinned, and turned back to his task. "Well heck yeah then, let's kill us some bloody nebulae!"
Friday, February 5, 2010
Flash Fiction: Sensor Boosters
Ecliptic Rift's Flash Fiction Friday 5
Grinding her teeth in irritation, Minuit manually reactivated the safety protocols that kept her 200mm autocannons, warp disruptor and web scrambler from melting themselves into so much slag as she watched the Crow's warp-drive kick in and propel the enemy pilot out of range. She apologized profusely to the friendly pilot who had received her incoming fire due to an overview malfunction.
"There's no other skill-book I can implant to speed up locking time, is there?" She asked over comms, to the snickering replies of her squad-mates.
"That's it, 'The Dirk' is getting a sensor booster."
Grinding her teeth in irritation, Minuit manually reactivated the safety protocols that kept her 200mm autocannons, warp disruptor and web scrambler from melting themselves into so much slag as she watched the Crow's warp-drive kick in and propel the enemy pilot out of range. She apologized profusely to the friendly pilot who had received her incoming fire due to an overview malfunction.
"There's no other skill-book I can implant to speed up locking time, is there?" She asked over comms, to the snickering replies of her squad-mates.
"That's it, 'The Dirk' is getting a sensor booster."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
