AboardFSSLewis B. Puller

1,611 kilometersfrom Colorado, Isabella System

05/04/70, 02:31:32

“XO,override the warp engine safeties, and jump the ship, now,for vog’s sake!” Pendry screamed, even as the cruiser's eightTavernier jennies kicked in to displace most of the ship'srelativistic mass through space rather than through time, turning itinto an imaginary mass—a tachyon—travelling faster than light.

For a instant, atleast.

ThePullerre-enterednormspace two thousand klicks from where it had been, more of itsbridge coming down in showers of sparks and debris, as even morebuzzing alarms echoed throughout the deck...the cruiser had beeneasing its way into orbit, way below the critical velocity of threethousand klicks per second, forcing the Rittermark jennies to workeven harder than normal(insufficent relativistic mass to shift), andhis ship had paid the toll.

Howmuch of a toll was something Pendry's sparkchaser would've told him,had the Pullernotslammmed into a hail of five-inch titanium-steel slugs travelling atrelativistic speeds, setting off a whole newpasselof alarms, as the barrage ripped up even more of the Starfleet heavycruiser's spaceframe.

Instead,the Puller'sflight engineer, Lieutenant Commander Micheal Crane,reported,”Deflectorarray offline, primary and secondary electrical systems 100%disrupted, teritary electrical system 56% disrupted, launch deckdestroyed, starboard torpedo launchers destroyed, starboard grasersoffline, starboard railguns offline, starboard reaction-controlthrusters destroyed, housings on warp engines five, six, seven andeight opened to space, venting antimatter and coolant, starboardradiators destroyed, all starboard warp engine Tavernier generatorsoffline, we are unable to make warpdrive! Internal temp nowtwenty-five degrees and climbing!”

“Switchin the auxiliary coolant!” Pendry ordered.

“I'mattempting to do that, Sir,”Crane had the friggin’ maraccasto tell him,”butthe auxiliary coolant pumps have sustained severe—“

“No!Excuses!”Pendry screamed. “Hardabout, Mister Gilyard! Fire as we bear!”

“Aye,Sir!”Gilyard shouted back, as the wounded cruiser slewed round on port RCSthrusters firing in fits and starts.

“Enemydropship in interface,and descending rapidly!”Benton reported. “Coloradofighters and lerfs are pursuing, but—“

“Sonof a gynt!”Pendryswore, even as the Puller'stwo working thirty-terajoule laser cannon lashed out at the Nakwarship rapidly receding from it.

“Didwe at least manage to punch our MarDet?!”heasked.

“Yes, Sir,”Gilyard replied. “Marines are ten seconds from drop altitude.”

“So,” he justvogging had to add,”are their Riflemen.”

Aboard CFS DragonflyIV

30 kilometers overReseda Valley, Colorado, Isabella System

05/04/70, 02:33:47

“Go,go, go!”Rifleman Lieutenant Jesse Dawntreader shouted, as he fell through theventral airlock hatches of the Bumblebee-class dropshipDragonfly IV, as it levelled off thirty klicks above a rockyplain broken up by the occasional half-frozen lichen, hisdiamagnetic-assist, vectored-thrust harness kicking in after theveteran Rifleman of the Watch had fallen five klicks from the bird,turning a free fall into a controlled descent at over 100 kilometersper hour.

Railgunrounds spat past his faceplate, Jesse's Link lighting up with thetelemetry from his powered armor's radar and passive sensors, showinghim precisely where the Marzie vogheads were, the suit's kinestethicsensors relaying the appropriate commands to the davit, as Unbroken'sweaponsmaster turned to bring the Angel Arms’ RMG87 slung underneath hisright arm to bear, a hundred 2.5-millimeter rounds buzzing out of thefour rapidly-whirring barrels to render Marzie Starmarines intosprays of blood, bone, and grease raining down onto the valley below.

Jesse cursed, as abuzzsaw of deuce and a half pocked and scored the chestplate of hisarmor, causing it to smoke for a second or two, the Rifleman jerkingdown and sharply to the left, another burst buzzsawing harmlessly byhim, as he lined up the bastard who'd shot at him in his sights andripped him from the sky.

That was about thetime a freakin' scrumbug swooped down into him, knocking both of themover, the two of them tumbling through the sky at a rapid rate ofdescent, Jesse getting his knees up under the Abysar, using them tobreak free of his antagonist, the scrum tumbling end for end, hisdavit firing in fits and starts, the bastard finally catching anupdraft on his carbon-fiber encased wing flaps and gliding to theground some couple hundred meters away from the civs Jesse's Riflemenhad come here to rescue.

Reseda Valley

Colorado, IsabellaSystem

05/04/70, 02:35:19

Jomol just barely managed to get his tumble undercontrol, cursing the Nakkie pinkstink who had sent him spinning,before turning his focus back upon his objective.

Six filthy proks, one of whom had had theindecency to pretendto have been anything more than an animal enslaved by its wild-animallusts, staggered over the broken terrain of the valley...he could'vetracked them by the stench, breeders, those his race calledcahrok—meat or prey—knewnothing of proper hygeine.

Or of shame, either,not a single one of them wore anything even remotely close tocovering themselves, the rags they did wear, coupled with their driedblood, welts, cuts, and bruises, only served to exacerbate thedisgusting nakedness which their kind had used so well to snare manya strong, healthy hunter, and lure him to his doom.

The thing they wereabout to do was nothing more than justice.

This time, Jomal,charmailhu ofthe Briathu bloodline, private in theFederated States Interstellar Marine Corps, did not hesitate.

The firing stick of hisM60 grasped firmly in his right hand, the thermawhip in his left, hecharged towards them, the hunter’s spirit taking hold of him, as hehowled out a hunter’s righteous anger to the worlds of the MasterGod’s domain, and lashed out with his white-hot scourge of coherentplasma.

Only to have oneof the filthy, stinking cahrokwho had caused the Race to lose their special status in the MasterGod's eyes catch the whip in one of its claws, and use it to pull himto it, Jomal fighting against it with all his strength, but it wassimply not enough.

So he fired a burstfrom his M60 full into the chest of the abomination.

And it promptlyreturned the favor, a brace of deuce and a half from the assaultrailgun in its free hand knocking him back even as they tore burningholes through him, causing him to lose his grip on the handle of thewhip, as they slammed him into the ground.

”Zin,kromaak,”it clicked harshly at him, as the Abysar hunter struggled to hisfeet, firing off still another burst from his M60, the hunter’sspirit a burning river in his veins, a throbbing in eyes blinded by awhite-hot fire of perfect hatred against those who mocked His worksand dared to oppose His Great Cause.

Hisleft hand found the trigger of the patrol-slung M64 assault railgun,as, with a running start, he took to the air, howling, as he blazedaway at it with both weapons.

Reseda Valley

Colorado, IsabellaSystem

05/04/70, 02:36:08

She wrapped thesankveh round her like a shawl, hurling herself at theabomination who had almost destroyed both their races long ago, herARG85 assault railgun and her quickly-drawn RP35 rail pistol bothblazing away.

Master Chief ofRifles Kritzteena, eighth so named of Clan Nofohaz, sang a war songher Navaleen friends had taught her, as the Abysar and sheflew straight and true for one another, weapons blazing, tearingthrough nano-reactive carbon steel plating and carbon-fiber weave totear apart aerogel muscle fibers and flesh, the veteran Rifleman ofthe Watch barely feeling the plasma-wrapped pokers of titanium-steeltearing through her body, aware only of the burning in her veins, thesong in her heart, and the enemy before her who so richly deserved todie.

They slammed intoone another in mid-air, tumbling, too close to use guns, the scruminstead choosing to unsheathe the chain claws built into the knucklejoints of his powered armor, Kritzteena, on the other hand, choosingto punch him hard in the face with her left fist, crazing hisfaceplate.

The thermal clawsshe had just activated then burned through the armored glass to teara quadruple row of bleeding, blistering gashes across his ugly, grey,reptilian face, the claws implanted in the left boot of her armordoing the same to his chest, the kromaak, resisting the reflexto shield his eyes, slashing across her chest in return, the teeth ofthe chain claws' titanium-steel teeth biting into the chest andabdomen plates with sparks and whining, the whirring blades rippinginto her chest, tearing deep wounds across her right wing, theabomination firing his davit, attempting to steer them both into theground with him on top.

Not a situation theAnazeen desired at all.

She fired her owndavit to counteract him, the thrust correcting their mutual tumblejust as 30mm railgun rounds ripped past them, the sankveh coolingenough for Kritzteena to discern the beating of contra-rotatingblades chopping the air, the Anazeen glancing away from the Abysar'sruin of a face a second, seeing the AH-88 Pteradactyl helicopterentering the battlefield, the white dove and mailed fist of theNational Security Forces visible on its starboard side.

She kicked free ofthe abomination, ripping at him with her assault railgun, as sheshouted over her Link,”Helo inbound! Gnats deploying! Gnatsdeploying!”