ABANDON SHIP! ABANDON SHIP! ALL HANDS TO ESCAPE PODS!

I groaned as the darkness slowly gave way to the red-tinted hallway before me. “Wha--?”

ABANDON SHIP! ABANDON SHIP! ALL HANDS TO ESCAPE PODS!

Blinking a couple times to clear the spots from my eyes, I looked around, and remembered where I was. Deck 10, Section 13, Port Side, Crew Quarters. The CNS Cumberland. We were… fighting. The X’thari. That’s right. We were under attack from X’thari Raiders. We were a Kinseki-class Battle Cruiser. Not as heavily armed or armored as a battleship, but able to hold our own against pretty much anything smaller than that. At least, in a straight fight, we could. X’thari didn’t believe in straight fights. They’d come at us with eight of their Mothak light cruisers.

The Mothak was a capital ship hunter. Oh sure, it had some point defense to ward off fighters, and a few turret guns and missile tubes, but the ship was little more than an engine to push around the massive Charged Wave Cannon the bastards carried running down the centerline of their ship. A hit or two from one of those could take out a battleship’s shields if they got lucky, and against an unprotected hull? They were death itself.

Of course, they had problems, too. You had to line your ship up to take the shot, like an old blue-water navy submarine. The cannon was slow to recharge, taking over two minutes between shots. And the range was a light-minute, at most, but if you wanted to be sure of a hit, you had to either take your opponent napping, or get in knife range, so they couldn’t dodge.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

But the Mothak class was a helluvalot cheaper to build, man, and maintain than a Kinseki­-class, to say nothing of the heavier battleships or fleet carriers. Which is why the X’thari could afford to send the damned things in packs, like wolves. They’d stagger their shots and constantly maneuver as if they were ready to take their shot, to keep you guessing about where the threat was coming from. If you were lucky, you’d get a group of rookies that shot their load in order, and then fired again the second their weapons were charged. That was still a bad deal when you were going eight to one, but being predictable was fatal if your commander knew how to dance.

Captain Walther could waltz with the best of them, but we weren’t going against any rookies, but the Thrush Squadron, the elite of the X’thari forces. The bastards were legends, the best of the best of the Raider fleet. We had them out massed and out gunned, and the Cap’n managed to keep them from killing us outright, dodging most of the beams with some insane maneuvers. Still, two hit the shields, taking them down, and then one clipped the port hull but good on the second round.

Which explained why I had my bell rung, and was coming to in this compartment with that annoying hissing sound trying to drown out the alarms. Oh, fuck. That was a breach! I was already moving before I even really registered what was happening, ripping open the emergency locker, and already a foot into an emergency suit.

Suited up, I took stock of my gear. Environmental suit, 98% integrity, 6 hours on the oxygen. 12 if I carry the backup tank. Standard adaptive multitool, full charge. Basic cyberdeck. Basic plasma thrower, 100% integrity, energy for 15 shots in the clip, and three spare clips. Magnetic grapple for zero-g maneuvers. Class I Dimensional Storage device, rated for 150 lbs. Emergency Nano-Med Pack, 3 uses remaining. Not great, but it’ll do.

Now, if only I could get to the escape pods before someone decided to blow the ship out from under my feet.