Mjr. Whoopass
<FONT color=lightblue><B>I was going to say someth
Downing Quadrant
Hyperion System- Outer Orbit
Confederation Date 2667.190
The captain sensed this was the end of the line for his Destroyer, but he was determined to make it a glorious finish. The enemy Cruiser and its escorts were steamrolling through the picket line. Corvettes, frigates, and fighters were exploding everywhere. Inside, the crew was frantically working like a well programmed machine un-phased as their ship rocked with sporadic explosions and lasers which clattered shielding and armor like an unholy rain.
There were few if any friendly fighters left in the face of the overwhelming enemy. The Destroyer's gunners were firing at everything that moved, confident they weren’t hitting their own.
An officer frantically yelled towards the captain: “One more torpedo and we’ll break apart!!” In the twinkling of an eye, the captain instantly assessed the situation and instinctively came up with his plan of attack.
As the closest and most damaged of the 3 Destroyers left, he could’ve pulled back behind the line. This might increase his chance of survival with the military excuse of getting more shots in as the enemy began to focus on closer less damaged Destroyers. Then again, he might explode before making it back. Another option was to hold position, which brought maximum firepower to bear on the Cruiser. This offered no chance of survival, as his ship would probably explode within a minute.
None of these options were chosen as the captain reached his decision more by instinctive feeling than by thought or training. “Full speed ahead bearing on a collision course for the Cruiser! Increase power to forward shields! All weapons, concentrate on the cruiser! Launch everything you’ve got at her!!!” The captain roared.
“Even the flak cannons sir!?” an officer asked.
Irritated, the captain sharply responded; “There won’t be time for enemy bombers to lock! Throw everything you’ve got into weakening its shields before we ram!!”
The crew was ready to sacrifice themselves. They knew they wouldn’t survive the odds. They knew the enemy cruiser had to be slowed at all costs before reaching the main fleet and its priceless capital ship.
It didn’t take the enemy long to decipher his plan. Frigates and fighters alike frantically focused on the captain’s destroyer. He felt a sense of victory as the Cruiser flinched and changed course. “Hard to port! Don’t let that coward get away!!!” the captain screamed. His adrenaline began to overpower his mind to the point where he was seeing red. “Why aren’t more weapons firing!?” he asked incredulously.
“Fighters have destroyed most of our turrets sir!” the officer replied in an equally frantic tone.
The retching sound of enemy laser fire, which was mostly shields, was now completely against the hull. The sound of an unholy rain became a downpour from dozens of lasers. The ship began to visibly shake with each hit. The captain’s hope of taking the cruiser out in a glorious fireball was sunk as he realized it was escaping his grasp. He found himself leaning and tilting his chin up and to the left as if this could make the ship move that way.
Just then, the Destroyer clipped the stern of the Cruiser. The shieldless ship instantly bounced off the Cruiser’s shields in the trajectory of a wild twisting nightmare. Crewmen were thrown around like rag dolls as the twisting ship’s gravity flickered in and out. Only the dim glow of a few in tact machines lit the room and showed dark silhouettes of unbuckled crewmen smashing into walls and monitors as the ship twisted and spun. Shortly after this, a huge boom was heard followed instantly by a sound like Banshees and deep toned whales singing a chaotic, deafening, dissonant chord. Although some crewman survived the impact, none of their eardrums did.
Though barely conscious, the Captain knew from the sound of the impact and the feel of the ship that it broke apart after a hit from the Cruiser’s Anti-Matter Gun. Oddly enough, this calmed the Destroyer’s mad twisting down to a slow unending circular lurch. The Captain found it almost soothing as he clung to the arm of his chair to keep from flopping in his seat. The smell of burning, melting durasteel mixed with blood and fuel penetrated his nostrils.
The glow on the bridge was more flames than glowing monitors. Most silhouettes were crewmen unconsciously flopping around either in their seats or still bouncing slowly off the walls. He noticed a few crewmen survived and were preparing to evacuate. Some were managing to put out the flames, which robbed them of their limited oxygen. He realized how precious this was when he heard banging on the door, probably from another compartment devoid of the precious element. He could barely make out images of healthier crewmen preparing to leave the smoke filled room in their attempt to evacuate.
“It’s fitting and honorable for a Captain to go down with his ship,” he thought wincing with pain as he began to slip out of consciousness. He knew he didn’t have any other choice since he was in no condition to get up and make his way out. As he was fading out, he thought back on his life.
He came from an average family to become a pilot, then on to be a Destroyer Captain. He had wanted more glory. Would his family be proud of him, even if he’s just one of many Destroyer captains to die in a mission that no one will ever talk about?
A few seconds later, as he drifted out of consciousness, his questions became more relevant. Where will I go when I die? Is there just nothing? Will I be in Paradise with Sivar since I died as a warrior? Is the Terran God the true one? Is He completely different from each of these? If so, will I end up in Hell? “God, whoever you are, if you’re real, take care of me please!” This fear of heading to the unknown gave him a sudden short burst of energy. He felt shame when he realized he said this out loud. Though no one could still hear and it wouldn’t matter since he was dying, this sort of rational thought eluded him in the state he was in. Seconds later, his thoughts became less coherent as he drifted out.
There were many honorable warriors throughout the Kilrathi war, on both sides of the conflict. Each one has a unique story of how he or she started and how they became who they were. This is the story of Danh’Tu Nar Kulrag.
(The story [set just before the false peace treaty-between WC's 2 and 3] is planned to continue earlier in the war.. perhaps WC1 or a little before. It would follow this Kilrathi warrior, his friends, and wingmen as he fights for the glory of the Empire. I would like it to stay coherent with the WC Universe. I plan to have more character development and have them speak more like Kilrathi, but I wanted to leave it ambiguous and a bit of a surprise that the character you were following was Kilrathi. We'll see if I'm inspired to continue it. I enjoyed reading The Lackey/Forstchen series and I've read some of Dahan's 2628- An Officer's Beginning and enjoyed it. This is the first piece of fanfic I've wrote and I'm new in the fanfic arena- for some reason I was inspired to write it tonight.)
Hyperion System- Outer Orbit
Confederation Date 2667.190
The captain sensed this was the end of the line for his Destroyer, but he was determined to make it a glorious finish. The enemy Cruiser and its escorts were steamrolling through the picket line. Corvettes, frigates, and fighters were exploding everywhere. Inside, the crew was frantically working like a well programmed machine un-phased as their ship rocked with sporadic explosions and lasers which clattered shielding and armor like an unholy rain.
There were few if any friendly fighters left in the face of the overwhelming enemy. The Destroyer's gunners were firing at everything that moved, confident they weren’t hitting their own.
An officer frantically yelled towards the captain: “One more torpedo and we’ll break apart!!” In the twinkling of an eye, the captain instantly assessed the situation and instinctively came up with his plan of attack.
As the closest and most damaged of the 3 Destroyers left, he could’ve pulled back behind the line. This might increase his chance of survival with the military excuse of getting more shots in as the enemy began to focus on closer less damaged Destroyers. Then again, he might explode before making it back. Another option was to hold position, which brought maximum firepower to bear on the Cruiser. This offered no chance of survival, as his ship would probably explode within a minute.
None of these options were chosen as the captain reached his decision more by instinctive feeling than by thought or training. “Full speed ahead bearing on a collision course for the Cruiser! Increase power to forward shields! All weapons, concentrate on the cruiser! Launch everything you’ve got at her!!!” The captain roared.
“Even the flak cannons sir!?” an officer asked.
Irritated, the captain sharply responded; “There won’t be time for enemy bombers to lock! Throw everything you’ve got into weakening its shields before we ram!!”
The crew was ready to sacrifice themselves. They knew they wouldn’t survive the odds. They knew the enemy cruiser had to be slowed at all costs before reaching the main fleet and its priceless capital ship.
It didn’t take the enemy long to decipher his plan. Frigates and fighters alike frantically focused on the captain’s destroyer. He felt a sense of victory as the Cruiser flinched and changed course. “Hard to port! Don’t let that coward get away!!!” the captain screamed. His adrenaline began to overpower his mind to the point where he was seeing red. “Why aren’t more weapons firing!?” he asked incredulously.
“Fighters have destroyed most of our turrets sir!” the officer replied in an equally frantic tone.
The retching sound of enemy laser fire, which was mostly shields, was now completely against the hull. The sound of an unholy rain became a downpour from dozens of lasers. The ship began to visibly shake with each hit. The captain’s hope of taking the cruiser out in a glorious fireball was sunk as he realized it was escaping his grasp. He found himself leaning and tilting his chin up and to the left as if this could make the ship move that way.
Just then, the Destroyer clipped the stern of the Cruiser. The shieldless ship instantly bounced off the Cruiser’s shields in the trajectory of a wild twisting nightmare. Crewmen were thrown around like rag dolls as the twisting ship’s gravity flickered in and out. Only the dim glow of a few in tact machines lit the room and showed dark silhouettes of unbuckled crewmen smashing into walls and monitors as the ship twisted and spun. Shortly after this, a huge boom was heard followed instantly by a sound like Banshees and deep toned whales singing a chaotic, deafening, dissonant chord. Although some crewman survived the impact, none of their eardrums did.
Though barely conscious, the Captain knew from the sound of the impact and the feel of the ship that it broke apart after a hit from the Cruiser’s Anti-Matter Gun. Oddly enough, this calmed the Destroyer’s mad twisting down to a slow unending circular lurch. The Captain found it almost soothing as he clung to the arm of his chair to keep from flopping in his seat. The smell of burning, melting durasteel mixed with blood and fuel penetrated his nostrils.
The glow on the bridge was more flames than glowing monitors. Most silhouettes were crewmen unconsciously flopping around either in their seats or still bouncing slowly off the walls. He noticed a few crewmen survived and were preparing to evacuate. Some were managing to put out the flames, which robbed them of their limited oxygen. He realized how precious this was when he heard banging on the door, probably from another compartment devoid of the precious element. He could barely make out images of healthier crewmen preparing to leave the smoke filled room in their attempt to evacuate.
“It’s fitting and honorable for a Captain to go down with his ship,” he thought wincing with pain as he began to slip out of consciousness. He knew he didn’t have any other choice since he was in no condition to get up and make his way out. As he was fading out, he thought back on his life.
He came from an average family to become a pilot, then on to be a Destroyer Captain. He had wanted more glory. Would his family be proud of him, even if he’s just one of many Destroyer captains to die in a mission that no one will ever talk about?
A few seconds later, as he drifted out of consciousness, his questions became more relevant. Where will I go when I die? Is there just nothing? Will I be in Paradise with Sivar since I died as a warrior? Is the Terran God the true one? Is He completely different from each of these? If so, will I end up in Hell? “God, whoever you are, if you’re real, take care of me please!” This fear of heading to the unknown gave him a sudden short burst of energy. He felt shame when he realized he said this out loud. Though no one could still hear and it wouldn’t matter since he was dying, this sort of rational thought eluded him in the state he was in. Seconds later, his thoughts became less coherent as he drifted out.
There were many honorable warriors throughout the Kilrathi war, on both sides of the conflict. Each one has a unique story of how he or she started and how they became who they were. This is the story of Danh’Tu Nar Kulrag.
(The story [set just before the false peace treaty-between WC's 2 and 3] is planned to continue earlier in the war.. perhaps WC1 or a little before. It would follow this Kilrathi warrior, his friends, and wingmen as he fights for the glory of the Empire. I would like it to stay coherent with the WC Universe. I plan to have more character development and have them speak more like Kilrathi, but I wanted to leave it ambiguous and a bit of a surprise that the character you were following was Kilrathi. We'll see if I'm inspired to continue it. I enjoyed reading The Lackey/Forstchen series and I've read some of Dahan's 2628- An Officer's Beginning and enjoyed it. This is the first piece of fanfic I've wrote and I'm new in the fanfic arena- for some reason I was inspired to write it tonight.)