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Fan Fiction

There's No Escape by Andrew Williams The scanner console exploded in a shower of electrical sparks and the smell of frying circuit boards filled the cockpit. Sean O'Rourke aimed a few choice swear words at the ship on the monitor screen and wished they could do as much damage as the missile it had lobbed back at him. His own missile. Sean hated Xox reprogrammers. "I'm not done yet," he muttered, forcing his battered engines to take evasive action. A stream of plasma bolts sailed by a few metres to port. Sean uttered a quick prayer that the last hit had taken out a non-critical system. If the generator had gone down, he'd be dust now. He quickly took stock. His shields were gone and generator power was low. His Minigun was running out of ammunition - short, controlled bursts were the way to go. He also had another missile, but after the first one came back marked 'return to sender', he wasn't making that mistake twice. That left him two options. Fight on, or jump out. Thing is, he was broke. If he jumped out, he'd be giving up a massive bounty. Public Enemy Number One was out there trading pot shots with him, and the reward for blasting the scumbag out of the sky would fetch him enough cash to fix the ship, get some decent defences and salvage what was left of his piloting career. There might even be enough left over to pay some of his fines and get some of the cops off his back. He swung around for another pass, cutting the engines and turning to strafe the flank of the Battlecruiser as momentum took him past. These ships were slow - if he could stay away from that main gun, he might just survive. Bullets impacted along the hull plating, setting off a few minor explosions as one of the ship's systems went down. A barrage of plasma bolts came back from the one remaining turret. Sean banked to starboard to avoid them. His shields were slowly coming back online - enough to protect him from a glancing blow or two, but nowhere near enough charge as yet to risk getting hit. The alarms went off, a now familiar sound, but this warbling note was higher, more urgent. Sean swore again as the words "Incoming Missile" flashed up on his monitor. Whatever it was, it was fast; he doubted he could outrun it. His pitiful flares were all gone, his shields probably wouldn't help even at full charge and the chances of shooting it down were virtually nil. He probably didn't even have time to jump. Desperately, he slammed the engines to full power and banked sharply. The missile shot past him, arcing back for a return trip. It was fast, but it turned slow. Sean had an idea. He slowed the engines, turned gracefully around and flew past the Battlecruiser, positioning it between him and the incoming missile. Turret fire swept near him but he managed to avoid it, slowing as the missile adjusted course to follow him, its electronic brain focused on reaching him and ignoring all else. Such as a Battlecruiser, directly in front of it. Sean saw the cruiser's thrusters fire as it desperately tried to avoid the oncoming threat but the ship was too large, too slow. There was a large explosion, then silence. Even the turret guns had stopped. Electrical sparks flitted over the enemy vessel. Sean briefly glanced at his scanner, which had done something similar moments earlier. The enemy was down, his generator damaged, his ship crippled. Sean reached for the radio controls. "Attention, pilot. This is Sean O'Rourke on board the Heart of Aorkhan. Your ship is crippled and I have you covered. Surrender or be destroyed." There was a moment of silence. Sean wondered if their radio was down, or if they were simply being stubborn. He flew around to the side with the missile hit - the armour there was compromised, and he wouldn't need much ammunition - and readied his thumb on the trigger. He tapped the radio control one last time. "Attention, pilot. This is Sean O'Rourke..." Suddenly the Battlecruiser exploded. Sean gasped in shock, then swore. Had the pilot blown up his own ship rather than be taken by someone else? If that was the case, all his hard work and all the damage he had taken were for nothing. He watched in dismay as cargo pods and life pods spread out from the debris. The cargo was no use to him - he had no means to collect it - but maybe he could scoop up an evacuee or two. Who knew, maybe some grateful passenger would even slip him some credits as a reward. Failing that, there was always money to be made in slavery. Then he saw it, hidden amongst the flotsam. An escape pod. The devil was trying to hide from him! Thoughts of deeds good and bad deserted him as he saw the quarry. As soon as he targeted the tiny ship, its engines flared into life in a vain attempt to flee. "There's no escape," grinned Sean, his thumb pressing the trigger.