The atmosphere in Dock 131 of Banedog's Backyard was thick with tension. The sound of welding torches echoed through the cavernous space, as crew members ran diagnostics and checked cargo straps. The metallic groan of ships being prepared for the impending FTL jump echoed through the docking bay, as crew members rushed to secure cargo, calibrate clamps, and ensure their vessels would survive the station's massive jump without being ripped apart. So, each ship was carefully secured in its position. The hangar echoed with the clang of tools, hisses of steam, and the gruff voices of crew members scrambling to secure their ships. Among the scrambling crews were the remnants of the Demonic Monkeys, now down to just six ships from their once-proud fleet of seventeen.
Amid this chaos stood Kugal and Zharen, the beleaguered new leaders of the pirate group, overseeing the preparations with grim expressions. They had inherited the Demonic Monkeys from Ubel, and ever since, it felt like the group was crumbling before their eyes. Kugal paced back and forth, then finally leaned against a nearby cargo crate, his arms crossed tightly over his chest.
His face scowling as he watched the crew scramble. Zharen, his second-in-command, worked a few feet away, overseeing the loading and security of supplies.
"I swear," Kugal muttered, his voice thick with frustration, "if we lose another ship or member, we’ll be no better than some backwater raiding party."
“Uhuh…” Zharen just absentmindedly replied, while his eyes remained on his datapad.
"We were supposed to rebuild, not fall apart! This is both embarrassing and humiliating." He muttered through clenched teeth, his frustration barely contained, each step punctuated by a muttered curse.
Beside him, Zharen, a man who was formerly the captain of Pussypaw until his crew voted him out of the ship and now, he is the right-hand man of Kugal thanks to the logistical skills that he could provide to this newly reorganized group. He was bending over a datapad, methodically organizing the fleet’s logistics, but even his usually calm expression was marred by concern.
"This is pathetic," Kugal growled, kicking an empty fuel canister across the dock. "Seventeen ships. We had seventeen ships when we took over this lot from Ubel. Now look at us. Six. Six lousy ships!"
A stark reminder of how much had changed since Ubel relinquished control.
Zharen, smaller and wiry, but sharp-eyed and meticulous in his thinking, stood nearby, reviewing a datapad filled with logistics. He glanced up at Kugal's outburst, his expression calm but no less worried.
"Ubel’s massive ship and goodies that he provided carried weight, but now, without him and his ship... We're just another failed pirate fleet that was previously under Munda." He sighed, running a hand through his thinning hair. "And if we don’t prove ourselves soon, the rest of them might abandon us too."
"And we both knew it was going to happen, Kugal. Ever since that kid left, we’ve been bleeding ships and crew. Pirates aren’t exactly known for their loyalty." Zharen sighed, straightening up and meeting Kugal’s glare. "We need to get a grip on the situation before more ships jump ship—literally. We still have six left, and we can’t afford to lose any more. The Demonic Monkeys have to prove they’re still worth following, or we’re done."
Kugal rubbed his temples, his frustration simmering just below the surface.
"Yeah, I get it. But how? How do we get the crew to trust us? To stay with us? They respected Ubel because he knew what the hell he was doing, even if he was a crazy unpredictable bastard."
The two men fell into an uneasy silence as the rest of their crew hurried to secure the ships and cargo for the station’s FTL jump. The Demonic Monkeys’ numbers had dwindled in just a short time.
"We took over the Demonic Monkeys from Ubel that’s barely a squadron." Kugal let out a frustrated groan, pacing. Then Kugal slammed a fist into the crate. "And we’ve already lost Zandor and Riza to that damn cartel. Then Tali and her sisters decided to separate from us. Hell, Arimon and Lukken are probably joining another pirate group.”
“Most of the good ones are already gone. Either they sold their ships, joined one of those gangster outfits in the lower sectors, or with the mafia factions found work with the various criminal syndicates that ran the station… or worse—left to go legit. And yeah, don’t forget the ones who’ve gone independent, thinking they can make it alone in this hellhole of a galaxy.”
Some retired, content to live off their ill-gotten wealth from their previous share with Ubel in the station. Others also had jumped ship for more lucrative or stable careers. Many simply struck out on their own, hoping to make their fortune as independent pirates. Kugal and Zharen had watched it all unfold, powerless to stop the hemorrhaging of their crew.
“Although I can’t blame those who left after seeing the state of what should’ve been our boss.” Zharen looked at the still, shocked, and spaced-out Elpano, sitting on a crate in a corner. Zharen wasn’t present when Ubel announced his resignation as their commander and didn’t know the real story about what he did to Elpano or others, but he could already picture what happened.
"The most important thing right now is we also don’t lose Godright," Zharen added quietly, though his words were meant to calm. "It's the biggest asset we’ve got left. If Creed and Bastille leave—"
"They won’t," Kugal cut him off, though his voice betrayed the slightest hint of doubt. "The crew of that ship had been with us too long. Even if Creed and Bastille hate us, they’re not stupid enough to go off on their own while the crew of the ship opposes their decision to leave."
Nah, they hate you, not me. Zharen quietly thought.
“But still, we’ve got to make a move, Kugal. Show the crew we’ve still got a plan, some sort of vision. Otherwise, the rest will jump ship too. Creed and Bastille haven’t helped much either recently.” Zharen sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I hope you didn’t forget how they mobilized some of Godright’s crew and weapons to help the kid, the former commander.”
“I didn’t.” Kugal snarled at the mention of the names. “Those two have been a thorn in our side since the day that Munda was taken out. If they weren’t so damn good at keeping the Godright in line, I’d have cut them loose long ago.”
Zharen didn’t respond, his eyes fixed on his datapad, calculating fuel reserves and organizing the limited resources they had left.
"Yeah so for now, let us focus, Kugal. We’ve still got time before the FTL jump. Let’s make sure everything’s secure, and maybe we’ll figure out what to do once we’re off this rock."
They finally finished checking everything and decided to wait for the FTL to jump back at their flagship, Godright. As they approached their flagship, Kugal’s stomach dropped. His eyes scanned the dock, but something was off.
Kugal froze, his eyes narrowing at the now-empty dock where the Godright had been stationed. It was gone. Zharen remained silent, his eyes drifting around.
"Wait... where the hell is Godright?" Kugal’s voice cut through the noise of the dock, loud enough that some of the nearby crew stopped in their tracks.
"Where the fuck is Godright?!" he asked again with a raised voice, rising with disbelief.
Zharen looked up, his eyes narrowing. Their eyes darted across the bay, searching for any sign of their prized ship, but the docking clamps were empty. Panic surged through him as he barked orders to nearby crew members.
"Did someone undock with Godright? Who authorized this?"
The dockhands and crew exchanged confused looks, some muttering among themselves before one of the senior mechanics stepped forward, scratching his head.
"We thought you ordered the undocking, boss. Or someone did? No one questioned it."
Kugal’s blood ran cold. He opened up his holo, opening up several contacts that he had of other crew, and asked them one by one. Zharen blinked in confusion and immediately tapped into the station’s local grid, pulling up docking records. He frowned as the information flashed across his screen. Zharen immediately pulled up his commlink, sending a frantic inquiry to the docking bay control.
"Station Control Center, this is Zharen of the Demonic Monkeys. Where’s the Godright? Did you receive an undocking request from this ship?"
There was a brief pause before the scratchy voice of a dock worker came through.
"Yes, we already approved the undocking request. Your fees were already paid-”
Zharen terminated the call and exchanged glances with Kugal. Panic soon crept into their expressions. Kugal quickly accessed his contacts, this time, trying to reach the crew members stationed aboard the Godright. The calls rang, and one by one, he was met with silence.
Finally, a message flashed across his display:
Connection Lost
"W-what... What the hell is this?" Kugal’s heart sank.
Zharen’s eyes widened as he realized the gravity of the situation.
“They blocked you, Kugal. That means only one thing—Creed and Bastille have taken the ship. They’ve gone rogue.”
Kugal's frustration boiled over, his fist slamming into the side of a metal crate.
“Those damn traitors! I should have seen this coming. We should’ve kept a tighter leash on them.” His voice echoed off the metal walls of the dock as he cursed their names. "That bastard Creed... I should’ve known something was up!"
Zharen, ever the calm one, quickly started issuing orders to the crew.
"Everyone, lock down all systems! Make sure our ships are secure for the jump. We’re moving forward with the FTL transition, but now we’re a ship short. Prioritize defenses—we might need to rethink our next steps."
Kugal stood there, shaking his head in disbelief.
“We’ve lost one of our best ships, Zharen. The Godright was the only thing keeping us from being swallowed whole by the bigger pirate clans. We needed that ship!”
Zharen, still focused on his datapad, didn’t respond immediately, his mind racing through the implications of what had just happened.
"We can still recover from this, Kugal. Maybe we hunt them down after the jump. Or… maybe it’s time we cut our losses and regroup. We’ve got enough on our plate just surviving here."
Kugal let out a bitter laugh.
"Regroup? With what? We’ve got five ships left now! FIVE! Barely enough fuel to make a decent raid. Godright is gone. This is a mess." He muttered, his voice filled with cold fury. Zharen placed a hand on Kugal’s shoulder, trying to ground him. “I’ll make them pay for this,”
Zharen pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering to himself.
"Of course you will."
Kugal slammed his fist into the nearest bulkhead, a loud clang reverberating through the dock.
“That is the second time you are punching something today,” Zharen reminded him.
Before Kugal could finish his rant, his gaze drifted to the far side of the station. Something caught his eye—a ship, distant and sleek, just beginning to disappear through one of the station’s exit gates. His heart skipped a beat.
"Zharen," he whispered, his voice suddenly low, "look over there."
Zharen turned, following Kugal’s gaze. At the edge of their vision, they could just make out the familiar silhouette of the Godright, slipping away, a shadow disappearing into the void of space. Its engines flaring. It was unmistakably their ship, and yet, now, it was out of their control, out of their reach. Kugal’s fists clenched, his knuckles white.
“That son of a…” Kugal muttered. "They’re leaving. They think they can just take the Godright and run?"
Zharen sighed deeply, shaking his head.
"Looks like they already have. And unless you’ve got a ship that can catch them, there’s nothing we can do about it right now."
Kugal’s face twisted with rage, his mind running wild with thoughts of revenge. But deep down, he knew Zharen was right. They were stuck here, and the Godright was gone. Both turned their gaze toward the distant exit gate.
"We’ll deal with them in time. For now, we focus on the jump and what comes next. If we don’t keep our heads straight, we’ll lose more than just the Godright."
Kugal, still fuming, gave a reluctant nod. The countdown to the station's jump echoed through the halls of the dock, a reminder that time was running out. The clock was ticking, and the Demonic Monkeys had a lot more to lose if they didn’t figure things out—and fast.
A loud rumble echoed through the dock as the countdown for Banedog’s Backyard's FTL jump began. The entire station groaned under the strain of its massive engines preparing for the jump, and crew members rushed to make final preparations. Then Kugal took a deep breath, trying to rein in his fury.
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Zharen gave a curt nod, his datapad beeping as he received updates on the fleet’s status.
"Let’s just get through this first. After that, we’ll see where they went."
As the FTL jump countdown neared its end, Kugal couldn’t shake the image of the Godright disappearing into the void. The Demonic Monkeys were falling apart, and if he didn’t act soon, there might not be a crew left to command.
--
The Blitzkrieg was moving slowly, purposefully, like a juggernaut in space. Semiramis Natu stood at Nevermore’s bridge, with her hands clasped behind her back, eyes fixed on the vast screen displaying the battlefield. Wreckage of destroyed frigates and corvettes floated around.
Her fleet orbited the massive vessel in broad elliptical patterns. This maneuver was intended to keep her ships moving, to minimize the chances of getting locked on by the Blitzkrieg's railguns. And it was also designed to outmaneuver capital ships. Frigates and corvettes swarmed around the edges while battleships and destroyers moved into slightly closer positions, firing broadsides at the shield in a constant barrage of railguns and plasma cannons.
The aim was to wear down the Blitzkrieg’s shields, to overwhelm them with sheer volume. Its shields shimmered, absorbing blow after blow, and the UGTR's best attempts to penetrate them had only resulted in minor successes. A few well-placed railgun shots had made it through, but by the time they struck the Blitzkrieg’s hull, the kinetic energy had diminished so drastically that they left no significant damage. But every shot that hit was answered by a devastating counterstrike.
The massive railgun discharged a single, overwhelming shot of kinetic energy. The battleship, Invictus, which had just launched a barrage at the Blitzkrieg, didn’t stand a chance. The railgun tore through its hull in one shot, splitting the ship in two and igniting its reactor core in a brilliant, deadly explosion.
"Commander, we've lost Herenmis!" one of her officers reported, his voice calm but laced with tension. The UGTR fleet's losses were mounting with alarming speed.
"Admiral, another frigate squadron has been decimated. They’re breaking formation," her tactical officer said with urgency.
The dark expanse of space glowed with the fiery explosions of wrecked ships, the vast battlefield stretching between the UGTR’s squadron and the Blitzkrieg. The battle was not going according to plan—her first plan that is.
Semiramis’ red eyes narrowed at the tactical display, as data streamed across her visual feed. The UGTR ships were outclassed. They lacked energy shields and were relying on traditional hull armor to withstand the Blitzkrieg’s onslaught. It wasn’t working. Blitzkrieg’s shields were too advanced, and every time a UGTR ship fired its railguns or plasma cannons, the Blitzkrieg responded with devastating, pinpoint accuracy.
"They’re toying with us," Semiramis muttered under her breath, watching the carnage unfold.
She was interrupted by another crew, bringing one thing that she was waiting for all this time.
"Admiral, the latest calculations from the analysis team." An officer approached, holding a data slate.
Semiramis took it without a word, her eyes scanning the numbers. The calculations were grim. Her fleet’s rate of loss far outweighed any potential gains in their efforts to breach the Blitzkrieg’s shields.
The odds of success were minuscule—3%, to be exact.
"So it isn't zero..." Her lips curled into a small, cold smile. She moved some of the numbers and the data told her that she needed several fleets of ships to increase the chances of her victory.
"Admiral," one of her executive officers, approached, his expression grim. He was a seasoned officer, well-versed in Semiramis’ tactics, but even he looked skeptical after their tremendous losses. "We can't keep this up much longer. We're losing ships too quickly. Our shield penetration efforts are too slow, and we're being picked off one by one. We would be wiped out before we could even reach the 60% progression. We need hundreds or more ships to win this attrition. We need more numbers on our side.”
Semiramis let the silence hang for a moment, eyes scanning the calculated doom laid out before her. Her expression, however, remained impassive.
"This battle is in my hands," she said quietly, handing the data slate back to the officer. The crew members around her exchanged uneasy glances. It wasn’t the first time they had seen their admiral speak with such certainty in the face of impossible odds.
"Admiral?" her executive officer raised an eyebrow in confusion for a moment before his eyes widened as he understood her meaning. Before he could respond, the sensors officer shouted, "Admiral! Multiple FTL signatures were detected. UGTR IDs! Reinforcements are arriving!"
His question was met with immediate activity as the tactical display flickered, showing dozens upon dozens of new contacts warping into the system. More UGTR ships materialized across the battlefield—frigates, destroyers, battleships—all arriving in formation. They dwarfed the initial fleet she'd brought to this fight.
One by one, dozens, then hundreds of ships blinked into existence from FTL jump, emerging like wolves into the fray. Battleships, destroyers, cruisers, and swarms of corvettes and fighters—all streaming toward the Blitzkrieg. The UGTR had committed its reserves.
Semiramis turned toward him, her expression firm.
"Tell me, Commander. Do I have enough numbers now?"
The bridge buzzed with renewed energy as captains from across the fleet reported in.
"Hammerdome Fleet reporting! Moving into position."
"Clinoving Fleet reporting!"
"Atlas Fleet standing by."
“Sacar Fleet reporting in!”
“Rosadoz Fleet standing by!”
As more captains began reporting in, their voices filled the command room of Nevermore, all asking for orders. Semiramis replied with calm authority, directing them with precision. The Neucore armada that she was preserving for the final death stroke had finally arrived just in time as she had predicted.
"Neucore Armada! Form the second line behind the vanguard. Swarm the Blitzkrieg. Target its shields. Focus all railguns on the assigned vulnerable points. I want constant pressure." She sent several key points in the Blitzkrieg’s shields that would be to their advantage if it was struck such as the thrusters, the mid sections, and the main gun emplacements on the hull.
Her words were icy, and focused, a stark contrast to the chaotic battlefield outside. As more ships poured in, Semiramis admitted to herself that she had severely underestimated Ubel’s strength. But, in turn, Ubel had underestimated her willingness to sacrifice. She didn’t care about the lives of the ships under her command. They were resources, and tools to be used and discarded if necessary. She would send them into the grinder without hesitation, all to bring down the result that she wanted. And she had another ace up her sleeve.
"Bring the Nevermore into firing range. This is the moment we’ve been waiting for."
Her flagship, the Nevermore, had closed the distance to the Blitzkrieg. The battleship rocked under the strain of the fight, its hull dented and scorched from the return fire. But Semiramis didn’t hesitate.
"Prepare to fire the Q-TN4," she ordered. Her tone was calm, almost serene.
---
Meanwhile, aboard the Blitzkrieg, Ubel lounged casually in his command chair, watching the new swarm of UGTR ships like a predator observing a futile struggle. The smirk on his face grew wider with each ship that was popping on his scanners.
"Multiple targets detected. Probability of overwhelming firepower increasing by 12%." One of the droids reported, its monotone voice echoing in the command deck.
Ubel’s eyes gleamed with excitement.
"Apocrypha Stage IV," he muttered. "Initiate."
At his command, the Blitzkrieg’s armaments began to unfold like the petals of a mechanical flower. Additional turrets and massive railguns deployed from the hull, their enormous barrels locking onto the incoming UGTR fleet. The ship seemed to awaken as if a sleeping giant had been stirred into action.
"Apocrypha Stage IV initiated. Primary railguns online. Targeting solution locked."
The Blitzkrieg opened up another batch of its massive railguns, one after another. Then unleashed devastating shots that struck UGTR ships with increasing precision, with the same result of instantaneous destruction. Battleships were torn in half, frigates reduced to debris, and corvettes evaporated in blinding explosions.
"Yes! More!" Ubel laughed, his voice crackling over the comms.
The Blitzkrieg's point-defense cannons roared to life as well, tearing through UGTR fighters and drones with deadly precision. The UGTR ships, though numerous, were starting to feel the pressure of Blitzkrieg's superior firepower. But even with his ship’s overwhelming arsenal, Ubel could sense the strain. The Blitzkrieg’s shields were starting to flicker under the sheer volume of firepower being directed at them.
---
Back on the Nevermore, Semiramis watched as the battle shifted. Despite the overwhelming numbers, Ubel’s ship was holding. But her cold determination never wavered.
"Q-TN4 are prepped and ready, Admiral."
"Hold them. We need an opening. Let the rest of the fleet press his shields further."
She planned to weaken Blitzkrieg’s defenses just enough for the Q-TN4 to do its job. As the UGTR ships continued to hammer Blitzkrieg’s shields, several of the railgun shots finally started to punch through.
Then, finally, a breakthrough.
One of the UGTR battleships, Resolute, fired a perfectly aimed railgun shot that penetrated the Blitzkrieg’s shields. For the first time in the battle, Blitzkrieg’s shields flickered, their strength visibly weakening and breaking in, creating a hole in its energy shields. Semiramis’ eyes sharpened as she saw the opportunity. It was enough as she took that chance.
"Now! Fire the Q-TN4!"
The Nevermore’s guns roared to life, launching the specialized Q-TN4 shells toward the weakened part of the Blitzkrieg’s shields. The rounds tore through the breach in the shield in a split second and finally entered the protective shield of Blitzkrieg, then it deployed into missiles and struck something that Semiramis had been trying to target-- the two thrusters on both ends of the Blitzkrieg.
But instead of an explosion, the Q-TN4 shells made a massive splash at the Blitzkrieg’s hull, or rather, its thruster. The warheads released a sentient, gelatinous substance that began spreading across the Blitzkrieg’s thrusters, consuming them like a viral organism, quickly covering the surface. The massive vessel slowed to a halt, and then all of a sudden, its engines shut down paralyzed.
Onboard the Blitzkrieg, Ubel stared at his now-motionless ship with wide-eyed amazement. The vessel’s sensors flared, just as the Nevermore struck its payload.
"Well, that’s new." Ubel's grin never faded as alarms blared across the ship.
"Thruster systems compromised. Enemy missiles had struck and disabled propulsion."
The droids went into overdrive, trying to defend against the swarm of UGTR ships while Ubel remained in his chair, relishing the chaos.
"Hah! Impressive, truly impressive!" His laughter echoed through the empty halls of his ship, as droids continued to fire at the UGTR ships swarming around him.
Inside Blitzkrieg, Ubel’s laughter echoed through the halls as more and more alarms screamed in warning. His ship was taking hits, the shields were flickering, and the hull had been breached in several places. But he didn't care. For him, this was the bloodbath that was worthy to be the baptism for Blitzkrieg.
"Beautiful! Beautiful!" Ubel grinned, his voice filled with excitement.
The droids remained steadfast, their cold, robotic voices reporting the damage as Ubel’s grin widened. He had always wondered just how far the Blitzkrieg could be pushed, and now he had his answer.
Despite the paralysis, the Blitzkrieg’s weapons systems continued to function at full capacity, taking out ship after ship. But Ubel could sense it now—the balance was tipping. His droids were working overtime, defending the ship from the relentless waves of UGTR attacks. And for every ship he destroyed, more seemed to take its place. His defenses were beginning to falter under the sheer numbers.
In response, hidden compartments across the hull of the Blitzkrieg opened, revealing more weapons. Massive railguns, energy cannons, and automated PDCs sprang to life, targeting the swarming UGTR ships.
"Direct hit on Rimbore! The ship is breaking apart!"
Despite their mounting losses, the UGTR ships pressed forward, continuing their barrage against the Blitzkrieg. Some of the railgun shots from the UGTR fleet had started to penetrate through, grazing the hull of the Blitzkrieg, but Ubel didn’t seem phased.
If anything, the pressure only excited him more.
---
"Status report," Semiramis commanded, her voice calm but authoritative.
"Blitzkrieg’s thrusters are down, and the neutralizing agents have shut down their engines, ma'am. They won’t be moving anytime soon," reported one of her lieutenants.
"Good. Keep them pinned. Continue bombardment, but do not destroy them. We want that ship intact."
As her fleet maintained formation, firing volleys of precise shots, Semiramis studied the enemy ship.
"Admiral, we’re receiving heavy return fire from the Blitzkrieg," one of her officers reported as the massive ship fired its devastating railguns back at them.
"Keep our distance. We can’t afford a direct hit," Semiramis ordered, her eyes locked on the Blitzkrieg as her battleship closed in. “Now we bid for time.”
The closer they got, the more intense the barrage became. The Blitzkrieg’s weapon systems were firing in all directions, targeting multiple ships at once with terrifying accuracy.
"Brace for impact!" Semiramis shouted as the ship rocked violently. The lights flickered, but the Nevermore held its course.
The Nevermore shuddered as a railgun round from the Blitzkrieg grazed its side, ripping off chunks of armor plating and sending shockwaves through the ship.
Her fleet was doing its best to stay in formation, swarming around the Blitzkrieg in elliptical orbits while firing everything they had. The railguns fired in rapid succession, each shot hammering into the Blitzkrieg’s shields. But despite their best efforts, the shields held strong, shimmering under the barrage.
“What is it doing?”
They saw Blitzkrieg begin to rotate on its axis, sluggishly turning despite its frozen engines. The ship's remaining guns opened fire, targeting the UGTR fleet with precision.
“It is using its own railguns and main guns to create pseudo thrusters in each shot,” Semiramis explained she was half impressed at the ingenuity of her enemy. They thought they already immobilized the vessel, but here, it is still rolling and still moving at a slow but increased pace.
Then Blitzkrieg's massive hangars opened, and swarms of boarding drones poured out into the battlefield. Their small size allowed them to slip through the chaos of the battle, heading straight for the UGTR ships. If he couldn’t destroy them outright, Ubel would send these drones to wreak havoc from the inside, disabling key systems and causing confusion among the ranks.
On the UGTR flagship, alarms began to sound.
"Captain," an officer called out on Semiramis’ bridge, "they’re deploying more drones."
“Deploy and scramble what’s left of the fighter wings.” Semiramis’ eyes narrowed. "All ships, maintain formation and keep evasive bombardment pattern.”
Within moments, squadrons of fighters clashed with the inorganic drones UGTR ships, intercepting before they could reach their targets. Then she turned to her officers.
“We’ve neutralized their mobility. Begin the next phase. Prepare the boarding pods.” Her sharp eyes flickered over her tactical screen, analyzing the Blitzkrieg’s structural integrity. “I am taking that as my prize.”
Yet even as the Blitzkrieg floated paralyzed, surrounded by the UGTR fleet, Ubel’s mind continued to race. His grin never fully left his face. This time, it was a grim acknowledgment of the challenge before him.
“Diagnostics results!” Ubel barked, his usual playful demeanor replaced with focused urgency. His droids whirred into action, flashing holographic readouts across the bridge. He scanned the damage report: engines severely cooled down by the UGTR’s mysterious synthetic blobs, and his warp capabilities were now frozen—literally—by the strange material the enemy had deployed.
His drones were able to work in haste deciphering the chemical makeup of the mysterious slum that was stuck to their hull. Even his proud nanoveramites did not react and consume this matter, making this a very interesting and confusing thing for him.
“Maybe these are just like standard coolant rounds?” he muttered to himself, eyes gleaming with a dark curiosity. “It’s probably designed to paralyze ships like ours. They’ve come prepared."
The initial thrill of battle had quickly shifted to a more dangerous game. He started to think that this was another technology that was created by ProcGen. The synthetic blobs clung to the Blitzkrieg’s shields, encasing his ship in a technological cocoon that disabled his scanners and navigation systems.
“Shields at 52%.” The droid reported another piece of information that gave him enough data that he was on the verge of losing—if he didn’t do anything about it.
“Alright, let’s give them something new to chew on,” he grinned. “Initiate Apocrypha Stage V! Unleash the Umbriel”
Suddenly, the energy shield that protected Blitzkrieg went from ghostly blue lit up into fiery blue. Then all of a sudden, without warning, it expanded. A giant burst of energy swallowed anything that came within five hundred kilometers. The ships, drones, and even wrecks were vaporized instantly.