…if they don’t blow us out of orbit first.
At this point, those slimy sons of frogspawn must be weighing that option. Capturing our ship and crew would be a profitable endeavor for them – but it’s not what they’re really after; and they know the valuable contents of our illicit cargo is indestructible. To get their webbed hands on it, they’ll be willing to reduce my ship and crew to atoms.
Sawoot grabs my shoulders tightly, steadying herself. She’s holding on for dear life as I start this suicidal aggressive evasive maneuver.
I cartwheel the ship left, closer and closer to the gravity well of the moon. Just as I predicted, the idiots pursuing us hadn’t calculated the impact of the moon’s gravity correctly. Their heat-seeking missiles are veering slightly off target – the sensors sending signals to the rockets that don’t compensate for the inexorable tug of the moon’s immense mass.
We’re not immune to it, either. My vision blurs as I spin our ship harder and harder to the left. I had to cut our own gravity stabilizer to a mere ten percent – in a desperate attempt to free up even more power to the engines – so now we’re bearing the brunt of the immense g-force.
The lure of unconsciousness is seductive – but if I pass out, I’m never waking up.
“Brace yourselves!”
I meant to yell that command, but it comes out more of a drunken mumble. I can barely form words as my vision goes black. Behind me, I can hear Theme - our new recruit – trying to scream, but his own yell emerges as more of a gurgle; mangled by the stress of the maneuver.
I pull back on the controls right before I lose consciousness – and that’s when the explosion fills my vision.
For a split second, I thought that was going to be the last thing I’d ever see. A flash of light and heat; silent in the vacuum of space.
But, instead, the Wayward Scythe bucks and twists, the controls shuddering in my hands. My reckless plan worked. Those missiles were sucked too close to the moon and exploded – and instead of reducing our ship to atoms, we were instead blasted away by the inertia of the explosion. I literally ride the energy wave – like some kind of cosmic surfer – as it carries us towards the moon and our last, desperate chance at salvation.
“We’re venting! We’re fucking venting!”
Sawoot releases what had turned into a death grip on my shoulders. As we level out, she stumbles across the cockpit to the engineering station and grabs the new recruit – wheeling Theme’s chair around to face her, before slapping him hard across the face.
For a second, Theme sits there, stunned – and then Sawoot gives him a backhand for good measure.
If this wasn’t the most anxious situation of my life, I’d probably laugh at the gunshot-like cracks that fill the cockpit as Sawoot delivers her double dose of shock and pain. It works, though – instantly breaking the novice technician out of his panic and centering him back in the moment.
It’s an old technique – the old ‘slap and tap’ – but it works especially well for calming a new recruit when they’re facing their first life or death situation.
Sawoot shoulders Theme aside and checks the readout, before turning to me.
“We’re venting, sure – but the replicator can handle the air loss. Just get us around that moon!”
I nod, and then turn my eagle eyes back to the controls.
I shove the thruster stick forward, feeling the ship rumble as all available power surges towards the engines. The momentum of the gravitational pull slingshots us around the moon, and the Toads are instantly lost behind us.
We almost passed out from the dizzying g-force of the ‘sling’ – and now we’re all thrust backwards by the momentum of the ‘shot.’ Like a meteor, we’re flung away from the moon into the blackness of space; where I’m already prepared for the next battle ahead of us – against that asteroid field…
…but there’s no sign of it.
We hurtle through empty, safe space instead; like an arrowhead through water.
“Captain!”
Sawoot’s voice alerts me to the behemoth before us. There’s an unmarked warship ahead of us, resting in space like a sleeping kraken.
Where the fuck did that come from?
There’s no question – as soon as I run my eyes across the sleek, predatory design of the hull, I know we’re in trouble. This is no merchant’s vessel, fat with cargo for a long-haul flight.
The warship ahead of us is a killing machine.
The warning systems suddenly go haywire, overloading me with feedback as they beep and chirp loudly, blinking red and amber warning signals.
The HUD automatically tracks the artillery that’s suddenly pinpointed right at us. Batteries of Orb-Beams, no less; weapons that could shear through our hull as if it was butter.
I freeze. For the first time in my career, I’m petrified – completely lost as to what to do.
We’ve lost the hunters for the moment – but there are still three Toad assault ships in hot pursuit. Unless I get some distance between us now, we’re toast…
But to do that, I’ll have to fly directly past this ominous warship – and Toad assault ships are going to be the least of my problems if we’re blasted into nothingness by the overwhelming firepower of that hulking battle-craft in front of us.
I press on the transponder and attempt to open a communications channel with the ship – but instead of answering, the ship’s loading bay door merely opens up in front of us; gaping like a massive maw of some gigantic space whale.
Then, suddenly, our whole vessel rocks and shudders. The controls jerk in my hand, as our ship starts moving towards the warship.
“What are you doing?” Theme cries. “Why are you heading toward them?”
“I… I don’t have any choice!” I struggle with the controls. “They must have a tractor lock on us.”
I feel like
