I like that doctor, I hope he survives the whole lack-of-oxygen thing.More New chapters Posted! Manganator's Story
Moderators: Moleman, Kwijibo, Luna
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Manganator
- Posts: 1329
- Joined: Mon Jun 06, 2005 11:52 pm
- Location: Massachusettes
- Contact:
A steady warning siren sounded in Section 11. The section had been sealed off completely from the rest of the ship. Obviously, it had been some kind of explosion. But there was no storage of fuel or munitions large enough in the medical bay to create such a large blast. That left only two possibilities, a stow-away or a traitor. But for now, Manganator had to focus about his own survival.
Manganator glanced down at his radio only to see that it had no possibility of connecting with his CO and getting the blast doors opened for just a few seconds, but that was not possible because the heavy blast doors were also equipped with an electromagnetic shield, and so the radio remained dead.
Manganator did not have much time to despair over this development before the lights flickered. That’s right, power, communications, even fuel lines have been re-routed from this sector, Manganator realized.
They would probably only have a few minutes of power from the Sector’s individual emergency power-source before the lights and heat ceased to function.
“What’s your name, kid,” Luna asked, looking up at him with two ruined eyes. Manganator stood, in a few moments of surprise, even as the oxygen rushed out of the chamber around them.
Kid? That’s right…blind, she couldn’t possible know who I am.
“I’m Brian,” Manganator replied in a somewhat lighter voice.
“Well then, Brian, I figure we’re about to die,” Luna said cheerily, trying to wipe the dripping blood from her eyelids with one hand, as she supported her sitting body with the other. “Damn, I’m blind, aren’t I?” she asked, glancing up again.
“Ya, shrapnel,” Manganator replied.
“Oh, strange… can’t feel a thing,” Luna said offhandedly, leaning against the wall. She was wearing the regulation-black female officer’s uniform, which fit snugly to her short and small frame. The hair style was strange for an officer, though, and seemed to be well-maintained, in stark contrast to the normal female officer’s more Spartan haircuts.
“What division are you from?” Manganator asked.
“I oversee the engineering and maintenance divisions,” she replied with a contemptuous laugh. Obviously doesn’t enjoy the job.
“The sector’s been sealed, and we’re venting atmosphere,” Manganator explained, hoping that she might be able to come up with a plan that could save both of their lives.
“No BBQ,” Luna replied gruffly. “Just because I can’t see anything doesn’t mean I’m stupid.”
Manganator smiled, not having to hear the “sirs” added to the end of every address was quite liberating. It reminded him of the old days. Certainly, there were upsides to conversing with a blind shipmate.
Even though he couldn’t see Luna’s eyes, he could tell she was deep in thought.
He hoped that maybe, an officer on his ship of her caliber would be able to think of some way to get them back safe into the rest of the ship.
“I’ve got it,” Luna said finally.
“What?” Commander Manganator asked hopefully, beginning to feel the air getting thinner.
“There’s a local storage area in this hallway! I’m sure the marines patrolling it are dead, and it’s bound to have some pretty good confiscated alcohol, or maybe even some stims. We could get really high and then see if it’s possible to survive by holding your breath in space!” Luna suggested.
Let down, Manganator exhaled in defeat, and dragged himself to the wall, slouching next to her.
“Do you have a plan that won’t result in our deaths?” Manganator asked softly. Luna’s smile eased from her face.
“I can’t think of anything,” she whispered sadly. “We’re probably going to die.” She buried her face in her arms, staining the cuffs with the blood from her bleeding eyes. She soon began to sniffle softly, muffled by her arms. She removed her head from her arms finally, and felt under them with her small fingers. “It’s weird. I’m blind, but I can still cry,” she said raggedly.
“Damn… if only we could get that door closed,” Manganator said wistfully.
“Closed? What do you mean?” Luna asked, looking his way urgently.
Manganator was taken aback, and had to collect himself before replying. “W-well the door connecting us to the rest of Section 11 is open, and that’s where our atmosphere is escaping,” Manganator explained.
Hearing this, Luna’s face lit up. “I thought this area had been breached, but it’s just the sector, you say?”
“That’s right,” Manganator said.
“Well then we can seal this hallway off from the rest of the sector. We can do that even if we are cut off from the rest of ship’s systems.”
“But the sealing procedure locks all door controls,” Manganator interjected.
“A simple lock won’t keep me from it,” Luna said with a cocky grin. “Wait… first, tell me if you see a blue box-shaped device on the ceiling.”
Manganator looked up. “Does it have a flashing red light?” he asked.
“Yeah, that’s it. That’s our Co2 filter. It will act independently on its own battery power and keep this room from running out of oxygen.”
Luna struggled to lift herself up, and looked down to where Manganator was. “Are you coming?” she asked.
”I broke my ankle,” Manganator replied.
“You baby,” she muttered. Manganator was quite surprised when Luna grabbed him from beneath the armpits and hefted him into the air. Her small hands gripped like pincers on his armpits which supported his entire weight, making him wince in pain, and he was face to face with her destroyed eyes.
Soon, they arrived to the terminal. She groped the wall with her hands, and found the small latch, which she undid and pulled out a small keyboard.
“I want you to tell me if I make some kind of spelling mistake, or put in one too many spaces or something, okay?” she asked.
“Got it.”
She immediately put her hands on the terminal and began to type, but none of the words made any sense. He’d never been a programmer, but it didn’t seem like she was typing in what she intended.
Looking at her hands, he saw the cause of this problem. “You’re typing one letter too high!” Manganator shouted.
“Oh whoops,” she said, deleting what she had just written.
Manganator began to feel lightheaded as Luna hacked away at the keyeboard, and no longer focused on what she was typing. The amount of oxygen in the room had been steadily declining the entire time from both the escaping atmosphere and the fires that raged deeper within the sector. He began to feel dreamy when he heard a loud crash.
When he looked up, the doorway which had been leaking their atmosphere was closed by a solid metal door-frame.
“You’ve done it! Now we only have to wait,” Manganator said with a triuphant smile.
“Don’t celebrate yet,” she said grimly, slipping back down next to him. “We don’t have a heating unit here, and unless Commander Manganator is astute enough to notice that this area is retaining pressure, we won’t be rescued.”
“I have a feeling he wont notice for a long time,” Manganator replied, chuckling to himself.
They sat in silence for a few minutes. The room was steadily getting colder. It was first just a sensation, then a mild annoyance. But soon the cold was beginning to permeate Manganator’s clothes, and into his body. At about this time, Luna began to shiver, and so, after a slight hesitation, Manganator nudged in closer, and put a single arm around her shoulders.
He felt her tense up rigidly, and then relax having drawn from him a few inches. “Do you have any family?” Luna asked.
“I got a wife and kids to return to. And they’re all I’m thinking about right now,” Manganator said, already feeling the warmth from her body help heat his numb arm. “Why? What about you?” he asked.
“I… don’t have family,” she muttered.
“Well at least you have friends, right?”
“Not many…”
Having said this, she finally put one of her arms around him, and they both waited in the cold for the door to open and help to arrive.
The light flickered again, and then failed.
Manganator glanced down at his radio only to see that it had no possibility of connecting with his CO and getting the blast doors opened for just a few seconds, but that was not possible because the heavy blast doors were also equipped with an electromagnetic shield, and so the radio remained dead.
Manganator did not have much time to despair over this development before the lights flickered. That’s right, power, communications, even fuel lines have been re-routed from this sector, Manganator realized.
They would probably only have a few minutes of power from the Sector’s individual emergency power-source before the lights and heat ceased to function.
“What’s your name, kid,” Luna asked, looking up at him with two ruined eyes. Manganator stood, in a few moments of surprise, even as the oxygen rushed out of the chamber around them.
Kid? That’s right…blind, she couldn’t possible know who I am.
“I’m Brian,” Manganator replied in a somewhat lighter voice.
“Well then, Brian, I figure we’re about to die,” Luna said cheerily, trying to wipe the dripping blood from her eyelids with one hand, as she supported her sitting body with the other. “Damn, I’m blind, aren’t I?” she asked, glancing up again.
“Ya, shrapnel,” Manganator replied.
“Oh, strange… can’t feel a thing,” Luna said offhandedly, leaning against the wall. She was wearing the regulation-black female officer’s uniform, which fit snugly to her short and small frame. The hair style was strange for an officer, though, and seemed to be well-maintained, in stark contrast to the normal female officer’s more Spartan haircuts.
“What division are you from?” Manganator asked.
“I oversee the engineering and maintenance divisions,” she replied with a contemptuous laugh. Obviously doesn’t enjoy the job.
“The sector’s been sealed, and we’re venting atmosphere,” Manganator explained, hoping that she might be able to come up with a plan that could save both of their lives.
“No BBQ,” Luna replied gruffly. “Just because I can’t see anything doesn’t mean I’m stupid.”
Manganator smiled, not having to hear the “sirs” added to the end of every address was quite liberating. It reminded him of the old days. Certainly, there were upsides to conversing with a blind shipmate.
Even though he couldn’t see Luna’s eyes, he could tell she was deep in thought.
He hoped that maybe, an officer on his ship of her caliber would be able to think of some way to get them back safe into the rest of the ship.
“I’ve got it,” Luna said finally.
“What?” Commander Manganator asked hopefully, beginning to feel the air getting thinner.
“There’s a local storage area in this hallway! I’m sure the marines patrolling it are dead, and it’s bound to have some pretty good confiscated alcohol, or maybe even some stims. We could get really high and then see if it’s possible to survive by holding your breath in space!” Luna suggested.
Let down, Manganator exhaled in defeat, and dragged himself to the wall, slouching next to her.
“Do you have a plan that won’t result in our deaths?” Manganator asked softly. Luna’s smile eased from her face.
“I can’t think of anything,” she whispered sadly. “We’re probably going to die.” She buried her face in her arms, staining the cuffs with the blood from her bleeding eyes. She soon began to sniffle softly, muffled by her arms. She removed her head from her arms finally, and felt under them with her small fingers. “It’s weird. I’m blind, but I can still cry,” she said raggedly.
“Damn… if only we could get that door closed,” Manganator said wistfully.
“Closed? What do you mean?” Luna asked, looking his way urgently.
Manganator was taken aback, and had to collect himself before replying. “W-well the door connecting us to the rest of Section 11 is open, and that’s where our atmosphere is escaping,” Manganator explained.
Hearing this, Luna’s face lit up. “I thought this area had been breached, but it’s just the sector, you say?”
“That’s right,” Manganator said.
“Well then we can seal this hallway off from the rest of the sector. We can do that even if we are cut off from the rest of ship’s systems.”
“But the sealing procedure locks all door controls,” Manganator interjected.
“A simple lock won’t keep me from it,” Luna said with a cocky grin. “Wait… first, tell me if you see a blue box-shaped device on the ceiling.”
Manganator looked up. “Does it have a flashing red light?” he asked.
“Yeah, that’s it. That’s our Co2 filter. It will act independently on its own battery power and keep this room from running out of oxygen.”
Luna struggled to lift herself up, and looked down to where Manganator was. “Are you coming?” she asked.
”I broke my ankle,” Manganator replied.
“You baby,” she muttered. Manganator was quite surprised when Luna grabbed him from beneath the armpits and hefted him into the air. Her small hands gripped like pincers on his armpits which supported his entire weight, making him wince in pain, and he was face to face with her destroyed eyes.
Soon, they arrived to the terminal. She groped the wall with her hands, and found the small latch, which she undid and pulled out a small keyboard.
“I want you to tell me if I make some kind of spelling mistake, or put in one too many spaces or something, okay?” she asked.
“Got it.”
She immediately put her hands on the terminal and began to type, but none of the words made any sense. He’d never been a programmer, but it didn’t seem like she was typing in what she intended.
Looking at her hands, he saw the cause of this problem. “You’re typing one letter too high!” Manganator shouted.
“Oh whoops,” she said, deleting what she had just written.
Manganator began to feel lightheaded as Luna hacked away at the keyeboard, and no longer focused on what she was typing. The amount of oxygen in the room had been steadily declining the entire time from both the escaping atmosphere and the fires that raged deeper within the sector. He began to feel dreamy when he heard a loud crash.
When he looked up, the doorway which had been leaking their atmosphere was closed by a solid metal door-frame.
“You’ve done it! Now we only have to wait,” Manganator said with a triuphant smile.
“Don’t celebrate yet,” she said grimly, slipping back down next to him. “We don’t have a heating unit here, and unless Commander Manganator is astute enough to notice that this area is retaining pressure, we won’t be rescued.”
“I have a feeling he wont notice for a long time,” Manganator replied, chuckling to himself.
They sat in silence for a few minutes. The room was steadily getting colder. It was first just a sensation, then a mild annoyance. But soon the cold was beginning to permeate Manganator’s clothes, and into his body. At about this time, Luna began to shiver, and so, after a slight hesitation, Manganator nudged in closer, and put a single arm around her shoulders.
He felt her tense up rigidly, and then relax having drawn from him a few inches. “Do you have any family?” Luna asked.
“I got a wife and kids to return to. And they’re all I’m thinking about right now,” Manganator said, already feeling the warmth from her body help heat his numb arm. “Why? What about you?” he asked.
“I… don’t have family,” she muttered.
“Well at least you have friends, right?”
“Not many…”
Having said this, she finally put one of her arms around him, and they both waited in the cold for the door to open and help to arrive.
The light flickered again, and then failed.
Much more likely: it was total BS, he's single toodirt wrote:Aw........so luna just got shot down my mag's wife and kids......how can such a badass have a wife and kidz? Perhaps they will be killed by the un and romance will brew.
Good stuff Manganator, I only ask you not turn this into a soft-core porn
I know he won't depict me in a manner that would insult me or degrade me. He asked if he could use my name in the story and I gave him my permission. I confident he won't cause me to regret that decision.
*I have an "edit" button so I'm safe. *
As always I hate to see the end of a chapter since I have to wait to find out what happens. Will they fix my eyes, will his hand be saved? Many unanswered questions out there. Good job once again. Hurry and make another chapter so I can find out what happens.
*I have an "edit" button so I'm safe. *
As always I hate to see the end of a chapter since I have to wait to find out what happens. Will they fix my eyes, will his hand be saved? Many unanswered questions out there. Good job once again. Hurry and make another chapter so I can find out what happens.
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Manganator
- Posts: 1329
- Joined: Mon Jun 06, 2005 11:52 pm
- Location: Massachusettes
- Contact:
Eat some waffles, you A$$MadAce wrote:No kidding. That's what I've been telling him for, what, years?Stormy wrote:Dude I like it!! You should publish a book
Fuggin lazy BUM!
Oh noez!
http://i137.photobucket.com/albums/q218 ... 1200926202
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Manganator
- Posts: 1329
- Joined: Mon Jun 06, 2005 11:52 pm
- Location: Massachusettes
- Contact:
Manganator liked the feel of a fresh set of clothes on his body. Before this morning, it’d even been a few days since he’d last shaved or showered. But now he was back to normal, clean shaven and sharp. He ran his fingers down his neck, not feeling a single point of resistance.
Smooth...
He didn’t quite enjoy the feel of a wheelchair, but with an ankle that was both fractured and sprained, and a completely useless arm, that was something beyond his control.
Not to mention, he was forced to remain in a mechanical wheelchair because only one of his hands was operational. He dreaded to think that he was beginning to look like Admiral Hanson, the dreaded 80 year old Admiral who refused to retire, zipping around corridors on random inspections, shouting orders and insults.
Not paying attention to what was ahead of him, Manganator collided with a plain-clothed maintenance worker, who unfortunately was carrying a large tray of hot cheese soup. The near-boiling liquid landed onto his legs, and Manganator fell from his wheelchair, screaming obscenities.
“I’m so sorry, sir!” the wide-eyed worker exclaimed, standing indecisively.
“BBQ BBQ BBQ BBQ BBQ!” Manganator cried out, rubbing his pants and hoping that the hot liquid would somehow get pushed by his hands.
Eventually, the pain subsided, and Manganator glanced up to see the terrified worker. “Oh, don’t worry about it. I’m not a cranky person. I’m still young,” Manganator said.
The worker continued to stare at him fearfully.
“Isn’t that right?” Manganator snapped.
“Uh... ya... yes, sir!” the man hastily replied, straightening himself out.
Manganator climbed painfully back into his wheelchair and got ready to head off.
“Uh sir? My Manager is probably not going to believe I spilled the soup on you, so you write me a note or call him or something?” he asked in a soft voice.
“Are you hugging serious?” Manganator questioned, glaring at him a few seconds before zooming away. Covered with cheese soup, Manganator finally crossed from the Sector one, the bridge, into Sector 5, which had served as their replacement medical facility.
Sector 11 had been completely destroyed, and most of the medical personnel had been killed, including Patrick O’Brien, who had been a member of Manganator’s ship crew for five years.
Fortunatley, most of the marines had medical training, and one in ten was a medic, so the medical personnel could be replaced, but then there was the matter of surgery...
Manganator entered the storage room, which had been rigged with auxiliary red-tinted lighting, and cleared of all weapons, food, and equipment, and progressed towards a table in the center of the room, which had a few medics crowded around it.
“What’s the situation, men?” Manganator asked.
Luna lay, sedated on the table, with everything covered except the top of her face. Bloody surgery tools and twisted pieces of metal lay in a tray next to the table, sitting in a blueish cleansing liquid.
“The shrapnel’s all out, but the eyes will are beyond saving,” the young marine medic answered, glancing back at Luna. “The nerves are still there, but that’s above my field of surgery, I’m sorry.” It’s strange, with shaved heads Marines all look the same.
“I guess it’ll have to do,” Manganator said with a grimace.
“One strange thing, sir,” the marine added. “She doesn’t show up in our manifest.”
“Well that is strange... considering I’m certain I’ve seen her here before,” Manganator answered.
“Sir!” Manganator glanced down at his wheelchair, hearing Hammel’s voice over the radio. He picked it up.
“Manganator here,” he said clearly.
“We’re making our next warp in ten minutes,” Hammel informed.
“Understood, I’ll get back to the bridge in a few minutes.” Manganator glanced back to the eyeless woman on the table, feeling something nag him about her.
“Bill, we got a woman in the treatment center that doesn’t show up in our manifest,” Manganator said, glancing down at Luna again.
“Well that’s a problem, Brian,” Hammel answered, “I mean... it was probably a stow-away that was responsible for that blast, that may be her.”
“She said her name was Luna,” he said absent-mindedly.
“Oh, well there must be some kind of mistake!” Hammel declared immediately. “Luna’s been with the ship for about a year... I’m pretty certain.”
“Really? Well I thought she looked a little familiar.”
“Ya, definitely. The computer’s been a little glitchy since the fight, don’t worry about it.”
Reassured, Manganator clicked off his radio, and hastily wheeled his mechanized wheelchair back to the bridge, going so fast that a few of his shipmen didn’t even have the time to salute.
Giving his palmprint to a small, waist level, blue scanner, Manganator rolled into the bridge. He got a few stares from the operators, and techies that were used to seeing him strut onto the server snapping salutes.
He rolled to the middle of the bridge, saluting just a few of the men he passed, and rotated his chair to the viewscreen. “Have the calculations been inputted?” Manganator asked.
“Aye sir!” Hammel called out, nodding to the navigation’s officer.
“Then launch on my mark,” Manganator said. He picked up his radio as he always did, and set it to the ship-wide channel, so his voice would carry across the entire ship’s speakers.
“We’re prepping for warp, everyone get ready.” At least my voice still has some authority... even if my body is a broken mess.
“Ok... Mark.”
Even a few seconds after Mangantor gave the order, nothing happened. “What’s going on?” Manganator called out.
“The warp program is reading an error,” Navigation officer Leary called out nervously. Apparently, the ripples from his episode with Lt. Nixon were still being felt in the bridge.
“What’s the error?” Manganator asked.
“It’s just a glitch sir, it says that the path is blocked, but our visual sensors and nav computer show clearly that we got a straight shot. I could override if you want, sir.” the man said quickly.
“No...” Manganator said. “Fire the photons.”
Smooth...
He didn’t quite enjoy the feel of a wheelchair, but with an ankle that was both fractured and sprained, and a completely useless arm, that was something beyond his control.
Not to mention, he was forced to remain in a mechanical wheelchair because only one of his hands was operational. He dreaded to think that he was beginning to look like Admiral Hanson, the dreaded 80 year old Admiral who refused to retire, zipping around corridors on random inspections, shouting orders and insults.
Not paying attention to what was ahead of him, Manganator collided with a plain-clothed maintenance worker, who unfortunately was carrying a large tray of hot cheese soup. The near-boiling liquid landed onto his legs, and Manganator fell from his wheelchair, screaming obscenities.
“I’m so sorry, sir!” the wide-eyed worker exclaimed, standing indecisively.
“BBQ BBQ BBQ BBQ BBQ!” Manganator cried out, rubbing his pants and hoping that the hot liquid would somehow get pushed by his hands.
Eventually, the pain subsided, and Manganator glanced up to see the terrified worker. “Oh, don’t worry about it. I’m not a cranky person. I’m still young,” Manganator said.
The worker continued to stare at him fearfully.
“Isn’t that right?” Manganator snapped.
“Uh... ya... yes, sir!” the man hastily replied, straightening himself out.
Manganator climbed painfully back into his wheelchair and got ready to head off.
“Uh sir? My Manager is probably not going to believe I spilled the soup on you, so you write me a note or call him or something?” he asked in a soft voice.
“Are you hugging serious?” Manganator questioned, glaring at him a few seconds before zooming away. Covered with cheese soup, Manganator finally crossed from the Sector one, the bridge, into Sector 5, which had served as their replacement medical facility.
Sector 11 had been completely destroyed, and most of the medical personnel had been killed, including Patrick O’Brien, who had been a member of Manganator’s ship crew for five years.
Fortunatley, most of the marines had medical training, and one in ten was a medic, so the medical personnel could be replaced, but then there was the matter of surgery...
Manganator entered the storage room, which had been rigged with auxiliary red-tinted lighting, and cleared of all weapons, food, and equipment, and progressed towards a table in the center of the room, which had a few medics crowded around it.
“What’s the situation, men?” Manganator asked.
Luna lay, sedated on the table, with everything covered except the top of her face. Bloody surgery tools and twisted pieces of metal lay in a tray next to the table, sitting in a blueish cleansing liquid.
“The shrapnel’s all out, but the eyes will are beyond saving,” the young marine medic answered, glancing back at Luna. “The nerves are still there, but that’s above my field of surgery, I’m sorry.” It’s strange, with shaved heads Marines all look the same.
“I guess it’ll have to do,” Manganator said with a grimace.
“One strange thing, sir,” the marine added. “She doesn’t show up in our manifest.”
“Well that is strange... considering I’m certain I’ve seen her here before,” Manganator answered.
“Sir!” Manganator glanced down at his wheelchair, hearing Hammel’s voice over the radio. He picked it up.
“Manganator here,” he said clearly.
“We’re making our next warp in ten minutes,” Hammel informed.
“Understood, I’ll get back to the bridge in a few minutes.” Manganator glanced back to the eyeless woman on the table, feeling something nag him about her.
“Bill, we got a woman in the treatment center that doesn’t show up in our manifest,” Manganator said, glancing down at Luna again.
“Well that’s a problem, Brian,” Hammel answered, “I mean... it was probably a stow-away that was responsible for that blast, that may be her.”
“She said her name was Luna,” he said absent-mindedly.
“Oh, well there must be some kind of mistake!” Hammel declared immediately. “Luna’s been with the ship for about a year... I’m pretty certain.”
“Really? Well I thought she looked a little familiar.”
“Ya, definitely. The computer’s been a little glitchy since the fight, don’t worry about it.”
Reassured, Manganator clicked off his radio, and hastily wheeled his mechanized wheelchair back to the bridge, going so fast that a few of his shipmen didn’t even have the time to salute.
Giving his palmprint to a small, waist level, blue scanner, Manganator rolled into the bridge. He got a few stares from the operators, and techies that were used to seeing him strut onto the server snapping salutes.
He rolled to the middle of the bridge, saluting just a few of the men he passed, and rotated his chair to the viewscreen. “Have the calculations been inputted?” Manganator asked.
“Aye sir!” Hammel called out, nodding to the navigation’s officer.
“Then launch on my mark,” Manganator said. He picked up his radio as he always did, and set it to the ship-wide channel, so his voice would carry across the entire ship’s speakers.
“We’re prepping for warp, everyone get ready.” At least my voice still has some authority... even if my body is a broken mess.
“Ok... Mark.”
Even a few seconds after Mangantor gave the order, nothing happened. “What’s going on?” Manganator called out.
“The warp program is reading an error,” Navigation officer Leary called out nervously. Apparently, the ripples from his episode with Lt. Nixon were still being felt in the bridge.
“What’s the error?” Manganator asked.
“It’s just a glitch sir, it says that the path is blocked, but our visual sensors and nav computer show clearly that we got a straight shot. I could override if you want, sir.” the man said quickly.
“No...” Manganator said. “Fire the photons.”
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Manganator
- Posts: 1329
- Joined: Mon Jun 06, 2005 11:52 pm
- Location: Massachusettes
- Contact:
“Sir?”
“FIRE NOW!” Manganator shouted, turning on the weapon’s officer.
The grizzled Wordsworth, with sudden flash of understanding coming over his eyes, realized Manganator’s hunch, and quickly input the command. With a push on his controls he sent three shots of concentrated plasma from the frontal cannons.
Manganator and the rest of the deck watched the brilliant shots with grim anticipation as they arced closer to the warp point. Just as he felt that his suspicion had been proved incorrect, three bright flashes illuminated the deck through the already polarizing steelglass.
The plasma had obviously made contact with something, just a moment before passing through the warp.
Explosive clouds rippled over an oddly shaped ghost image, revealing the true shape of what they’d actually hit.
“Damned avengers,” one crewman whispered under his breath.
A few seconds later, there was an even greater explosion, at least four times larger than the first, which quickly grew, shooting shrapnel and bits of avenger into different directions. A few clattered against the hull.
This time, the crew reeled from the unexpected explosion, throwing themselves back from the steelglass, even Manganator flinched. Around the explosion, a few more rippling shields flickered into view. There are at least four of them, Manganator observed.
“What the hell was that?” Hammel asked.
“Either that avenger was carrying incredibly high munitions, or there are cloaked mines in play,” Manganator answered coldly. Because their ISC’s battle scanners were on a tower in Section 11, which they had cut off from the rest of the ship, they would be fighting blind against these avengers.
“Sir, we have incoming self-propelling projectiles on our 6 o’clock twenty degree-,” began one of the technical operators, a plump blond who’d been on the bridge for about a year.
“Nukes,” Manganator interrupted. “Give me our battle-map!”
On the front screen, a large map popped. Their large ISC was shown by a white dot, while missiles arced towards it from multiple directions.
“Impact of the first in thirty seconds, sir.”
“Sir, I may be able to try to rig up some makeshift sensors from our warp-drive’s particle readout!” another glasses-wearing young technical operator shouted.
“Do it,” Manganator said quickly.
He then took just a moment to observe the enemy nukes arcing towards his ship. There were six, and it didn’t look like those were the end of the payload.
“Engage our thrusters, put us accelerating down at 90 degrees,” Manganator ordered, thinking quickly.
“Aye sir!” Navigation’s officer Leary input the commands, and the ship began to fire it’s thrusters.
“Fire a nuke from our tail,” Manganator said next.
Without thinking of why he was ordering them to fire a nuke straight towards nothing, Wordsworth began to make the calculations and soon there was a slight rumble as nukes flew free from their housings.
“Now go dead, and fire our countermeasures on my mark,” Manganator continued.
Seeing a few enemy nukes track the heat signatures of his own wayward nukes, Manganator waited for just a few moments before giving the order. “Mark.”
The ship went black around them, consoles dimmed and lights deactivated, leaving the ship only with the light that filtered through the steelglass. Just in front of the view port, a spinning countermeasure wandered aimlessly along, spinning and creating a false representation of a ship’s heat signature.
4 more nukes still tracking, the crew held their breath. If just 2 of the nukes struck with their ship the way it was, they’d be trouble.
“Five seconds until first impact,” the blond operator said in a hushed whisper. It was a strange thing to do, considering sound and vibration had nothing to do with the nukes tracking systems.
Manganator stared at a single nuke coming from the port, who’s thruster roared towards him like an angry wasp, hoping that it was locked onto the spinning countermeasure in front of them, and not the ship.
At the last moment, it seemed to veer wide, and struck the countermeasure, illuminating the bridge, and rocking the ship with a shockwave.
Good for them, not good for the countermeasure.
That’s one down.
Looking down, Manganator saw the blips were just a sliver from overlapping with his ship, and braced himself.
Another rumble sounded from the back end, as another nuke hit a countermeasure. A few seconds later, there was another blast, this time from the starboard, and yet still no impact. That left one nuke.
“Two seconds until last nuke impact,” the operator said.
“one”
“zero”
The bridge was enveloped in silence as they all waited for the impact, but it never came. Just on the other side of the door, Manganator could hear shouts of celebration.
“Ok, get us out of this dead-man’s float, Sergeant Leary,” Manganator ordered.
The navigation’s officer happily obliged, activating the thrusters.
But the red lock-on warning light on the display that activated when the ship was being tracked, had not deactivated itself.
“Oh BBQ,” Manganator managed to say, seeing a nuke blip that had missed it’s countermeasure redirect towards their thrusters.
Just a moment later, there was a jarring impact, which caused the displays around the terminal to spark, and people and loose items to hit the deck. From the shock, Manganator’s head whiplashed into the display.
Disoriented, he struggled to regain his bearings. Blood dripped onto his legs, even as he held a single hand over his nose to try to prevent the leakage. “Put us in a wide arc around Delta Ephelia IV to the adjacent warp point!” Manganator shouted, some of the words spilling from his mouth sloppily, as if he were drunk.
The planet was just a bit to the port side of their destination, the warp gate, and so flying wide of it would be a bit of a detour. Just enough of one for the avengers to believe they could catch up.
“Aye…” Leary mumbled, inputting the command gingerly. One of his fingers was broken.
Soon, the rattled ship lurched into motion, heading away from the avengers, and heading to the other warp point. More nukes streamed towards them, but they had been fired too late, their minimum detonation triggers would explode them before they even got close. All nukes had been programmed with them to prevent stray nukes that had not locked on from accidentally smacking into ports, planets, or civilian ships.
Undoubtedly, the avengers were chasing them, but the ISC’s speed was far beyond that of the avenger, so it would be an easy escape. But Manganator wasn’t interested in escape.
His fist clenched tightly, his knuckles white. Manganator wanted blood. He’d had enough of running.
“We will be stopping once we’ve rounded the planet,” Manganator said calmly, wiping the blood from his nose on his sleeve.
“FIRE NOW!” Manganator shouted, turning on the weapon’s officer.
The grizzled Wordsworth, with sudden flash of understanding coming over his eyes, realized Manganator’s hunch, and quickly input the command. With a push on his controls he sent three shots of concentrated plasma from the frontal cannons.
Manganator and the rest of the deck watched the brilliant shots with grim anticipation as they arced closer to the warp point. Just as he felt that his suspicion had been proved incorrect, three bright flashes illuminated the deck through the already polarizing steelglass.
The plasma had obviously made contact with something, just a moment before passing through the warp.
Explosive clouds rippled over an oddly shaped ghost image, revealing the true shape of what they’d actually hit.
“Damned avengers,” one crewman whispered under his breath.
A few seconds later, there was an even greater explosion, at least four times larger than the first, which quickly grew, shooting shrapnel and bits of avenger into different directions. A few clattered against the hull.
This time, the crew reeled from the unexpected explosion, throwing themselves back from the steelglass, even Manganator flinched. Around the explosion, a few more rippling shields flickered into view. There are at least four of them, Manganator observed.
“What the hell was that?” Hammel asked.
“Either that avenger was carrying incredibly high munitions, or there are cloaked mines in play,” Manganator answered coldly. Because their ISC’s battle scanners were on a tower in Section 11, which they had cut off from the rest of the ship, they would be fighting blind against these avengers.
“Sir, we have incoming self-propelling projectiles on our 6 o’clock twenty degree-,” began one of the technical operators, a plump blond who’d been on the bridge for about a year.
“Nukes,” Manganator interrupted. “Give me our battle-map!”
On the front screen, a large map popped. Their large ISC was shown by a white dot, while missiles arced towards it from multiple directions.
“Impact of the first in thirty seconds, sir.”
“Sir, I may be able to try to rig up some makeshift sensors from our warp-drive’s particle readout!” another glasses-wearing young technical operator shouted.
“Do it,” Manganator said quickly.
He then took just a moment to observe the enemy nukes arcing towards his ship. There were six, and it didn’t look like those were the end of the payload.
“Engage our thrusters, put us accelerating down at 90 degrees,” Manganator ordered, thinking quickly.
“Aye sir!” Navigation’s officer Leary input the commands, and the ship began to fire it’s thrusters.
“Fire a nuke from our tail,” Manganator said next.
Without thinking of why he was ordering them to fire a nuke straight towards nothing, Wordsworth began to make the calculations and soon there was a slight rumble as nukes flew free from their housings.
“Now go dead, and fire our countermeasures on my mark,” Manganator continued.
Seeing a few enemy nukes track the heat signatures of his own wayward nukes, Manganator waited for just a few moments before giving the order. “Mark.”
The ship went black around them, consoles dimmed and lights deactivated, leaving the ship only with the light that filtered through the steelglass. Just in front of the view port, a spinning countermeasure wandered aimlessly along, spinning and creating a false representation of a ship’s heat signature.
4 more nukes still tracking, the crew held their breath. If just 2 of the nukes struck with their ship the way it was, they’d be trouble.
“Five seconds until first impact,” the blond operator said in a hushed whisper. It was a strange thing to do, considering sound and vibration had nothing to do with the nukes tracking systems.
Manganator stared at a single nuke coming from the port, who’s thruster roared towards him like an angry wasp, hoping that it was locked onto the spinning countermeasure in front of them, and not the ship.
At the last moment, it seemed to veer wide, and struck the countermeasure, illuminating the bridge, and rocking the ship with a shockwave.
Good for them, not good for the countermeasure.
That’s one down.
Looking down, Manganator saw the blips were just a sliver from overlapping with his ship, and braced himself.
Another rumble sounded from the back end, as another nuke hit a countermeasure. A few seconds later, there was another blast, this time from the starboard, and yet still no impact. That left one nuke.
“Two seconds until last nuke impact,” the operator said.
“one”
“zero”
The bridge was enveloped in silence as they all waited for the impact, but it never came. Just on the other side of the door, Manganator could hear shouts of celebration.
“Ok, get us out of this dead-man’s float, Sergeant Leary,” Manganator ordered.
The navigation’s officer happily obliged, activating the thrusters.
But the red lock-on warning light on the display that activated when the ship was being tracked, had not deactivated itself.
“Oh BBQ,” Manganator managed to say, seeing a nuke blip that had missed it’s countermeasure redirect towards their thrusters.
Just a moment later, there was a jarring impact, which caused the displays around the terminal to spark, and people and loose items to hit the deck. From the shock, Manganator’s head whiplashed into the display.
Disoriented, he struggled to regain his bearings. Blood dripped onto his legs, even as he held a single hand over his nose to try to prevent the leakage. “Put us in a wide arc around Delta Ephelia IV to the adjacent warp point!” Manganator shouted, some of the words spilling from his mouth sloppily, as if he were drunk.
The planet was just a bit to the port side of their destination, the warp gate, and so flying wide of it would be a bit of a detour. Just enough of one for the avengers to believe they could catch up.
“Aye…” Leary mumbled, inputting the command gingerly. One of his fingers was broken.
Soon, the rattled ship lurched into motion, heading away from the avengers, and heading to the other warp point. More nukes streamed towards them, but they had been fired too late, their minimum detonation triggers would explode them before they even got close. All nukes had been programmed with them to prevent stray nukes that had not locked on from accidentally smacking into ports, planets, or civilian ships.
Undoubtedly, the avengers were chasing them, but the ISC’s speed was far beyond that of the avenger, so it would be an easy escape. But Manganator wasn’t interested in escape.
His fist clenched tightly, his knuckles white. Manganator wanted blood. He’d had enough of running.
“We will be stopping once we’ve rounded the planet,” Manganator said calmly, wiping the blood from his nose on his sleeve.
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Manganator
- Posts: 1329
- Joined: Mon Jun 06, 2005 11:52 pm
- Location: Massachusettes
- Contact:
“Aye sir,” the wounded Navigation’s officer confirmed grimly. They entered a smooth burn around the planet. It would be just above a minute before they were in place.
“In the meantime, you,” he said, pointing to the blonde haired techie who’d given him the countdown on the nuke impact.
Her eyebrows lifted in confusion.
“Lauria... is it? I want you to give me a readout on the avenger’s likely position had they cut across the other side of the planet in an attempt to cut us off, by calculating their top speed and time elapsed and putting into account 5 seconds hesitation.”
As her fingers began to hack away at the keyboard, the Starcruiser decelerated into it’s stationary position close to the planet’s pole.
“The magnetism should keep the enemy’s sensors from detecting us,” Manganator informed the rest of the crew.
“I’ve got the readout, sir,” she said quickly.
“Good, put your equation on our combat map with the estimated position.”
“Roger.”
With just a few more keytaps, five white dots appeared on the map, advancing around the short side of the planet. They were getting close. It was time.
“Ready fire of nukes 2-5" Manganator said next.
“Primed, and unlocked,” Wordsworth said a few seconds later.
“I want you to fire them on a low burn just a hair on the outside of this planet’s moon,” Manganator said, pointing where he wanted them in leu of the exact coordinates. At that speed, the nukes would hardly be able to run down an avenger... but that wasn’t his intention.
“Sir, you do know that our nukes won’t track the cloaked ships with our scanners out of operation?” Wordsworth asked.
“I know,” Manganator growled, silencing the weapon’s officer.
There was some more typing, and then a soft rumble as the three nukes launched. They seemed to go out at a painfully slow speed, but if Manganator had timed it up right...
The deck crawled with anticipation as the eyes of the idle technical operators watched the battle unfold. As many times before this one, they had no idea what was going through Manganator’s mind, and that was how he liked it.
He watched the display, waiting for the nukes on the outside of the small moon and the predicted path of the pursuing avengers to get in just the right positioning.
“Fire three photons into our slowburn nukes!” Manganator shouted.
There was a flurry of typing followed by a loud Thwap as the torpedoes soared from their housings, quickly catching up with the slow moving nukes, just as they reached their closest point with the moon.
“And now fire our remaining nukes at high burn in direct orbit with the planet!”
This time, the nukes screamed out at inescapable velocities.
The small moon, which sat lazily above the planet, was illuminated by a large series of nuclear explosions directly on it’s outside as the torpedoes caused the nukes to explode. There was a bright flash, and a shockwave. The small moon first lost bits and fragments, but soon it shattered, shooting a shotgun of small and medium-sized rocks towards the planet surface.
The wide hailstorm yielded Manganator’s prey. Five ship’s shields shimmered, shielding the ships from the impacts of the fragments from the moon’s explosion. A medium sized chunk slammed directly into a ship, and with a bright flash it’s shield failed. The ship was thrown aside by the force of the rock, and there was a small fireball as it’s fuel ignited. The fireball seemed to smolder, and then the ship was shot towards the planet’s surface by another large explosion on it’s wing. It’s path was shown by the trailing flame as it entered the planet’s atmosphere and began to burn.
That’s one.
A grin came over Manganator’s face as the nukes swept in. Some of the avengers attempted to maneuver away from the incoming missiles, but it was too late.
The first nuke locked in on the shield source, and slammed into the lead avenger, cracking it’s shield promptly and engulfing it in a fireball.
The next shot past the ship it had targeted by some quick maneuver, and re-locked on another avenger in the back, barely hitting the side. This sent the avenger into a spin, and shieldless, it’s explosion decorated the side of a large falling rock.
He managed to see one avenger, fire a burst of plasma into one of the falling rocks, and then fire it’s nuke, shattering the large rock into many smaller ones. The avenger then darted among the rubble in a wild attempt to escape the nukes. But no pilot could fly his way through those falling rocks.
“Fire the photons into that mess,” Manganator shouted to Wordsworth. Just as he said this, his last nuke detonated on another unlucky avenger with a thump.
Photons arced from the ship, blowing the rocks into even smaller pieces, and putting fireballs in the sky. It was a cage of fire and shrapnel that even the best flyer wouldn’t be able to survive.
Closer to the planet, the rocks began to enter the atmosphere, burning like many deadly drops of crimson rain.
Manganator felt pride rushing through his body again, for the first time in a while. He felt energized.
“Sir, there’s one ship still semi-intact, but it seems to be dead in space, and falling to the planet,” one operator said in awe.
Manganator quirked his head in confusion. “It’s shields?”
“Nearly full, sir, but the thrusters and cloaking seem to be offline for now.”
Manganator was impressed. Perhaps the same pilot who shot his way through the middle of that larger rock.
“Approach with caution. Let’s see if we can get that ship into our bay... maybe finally find out what the hell is going on.”
As they approached, the avenger still did nothing, slowly being pulled towards the planet. “Ok, edge in and prepare the boarding craft to do some tugging so we can wheel her in,” Manganator said.
But before the boarding craft could be launched, the avenger suddenly came to life and veered towards the ISC, ramming it’s nose through the outer hull right next to the bridge. “Jesus Christ!” one surprised man shouted.
“This is Duece! You may of heard of me!” a wild voice roared over the unrestricted radio channel.
Manganator looked over at Hammel and gave him a slight nod. Hammel picked up his receiver and began to issue orders to the Marine squads on standby.
Manganator, wanting to buy some time, slowly picked up the radio. “This is Command actual,” Manganator said calmly.
“You think you’re one smart son of a I love you man!, don’t you?” the voice shot back. “Well here’s news for you, I got an armed nuke that I can punch right through the hull of your precious little ship. Now we don’t want this to end badly, so you better keep the marines off me, got it?”
Grinding his teeth, Manganator nodded his head to Hammel, who picked up his radio and called off the Marines.
“Ok, now I want you to...”
“Sir, I got in,” one of the technical advisors shouted. Manganator grinned and activated his radio.
“We’re not going to be doing anything,” Manganator said into his radio with a smile.
“By hell you wont!” the pilot shouted from the other end. “You don’t and I’ll burn your ship up with this nuke, pall.”
Manganator looked over at the display of the avenger and chuckled. “You don’t have a nuke, you don’t even have your weapons.”
“Yes I do,” the man shot back.
“Well... in the least you don’t have your firewall operational anymore, because I just hacked your ship, Duece,” Manganator explained.
“Oh...”
“In the meantime, you,” he said, pointing to the blonde haired techie who’d given him the countdown on the nuke impact.
Her eyebrows lifted in confusion.
“Lauria... is it? I want you to give me a readout on the avenger’s likely position had they cut across the other side of the planet in an attempt to cut us off, by calculating their top speed and time elapsed and putting into account 5 seconds hesitation.”
As her fingers began to hack away at the keyboard, the Starcruiser decelerated into it’s stationary position close to the planet’s pole.
“The magnetism should keep the enemy’s sensors from detecting us,” Manganator informed the rest of the crew.
“I’ve got the readout, sir,” she said quickly.
“Good, put your equation on our combat map with the estimated position.”
“Roger.”
With just a few more keytaps, five white dots appeared on the map, advancing around the short side of the planet. They were getting close. It was time.
“Ready fire of nukes 2-5" Manganator said next.
“Primed, and unlocked,” Wordsworth said a few seconds later.
“I want you to fire them on a low burn just a hair on the outside of this planet’s moon,” Manganator said, pointing where he wanted them in leu of the exact coordinates. At that speed, the nukes would hardly be able to run down an avenger... but that wasn’t his intention.
“Sir, you do know that our nukes won’t track the cloaked ships with our scanners out of operation?” Wordsworth asked.
“I know,” Manganator growled, silencing the weapon’s officer.
There was some more typing, and then a soft rumble as the three nukes launched. They seemed to go out at a painfully slow speed, but if Manganator had timed it up right...
The deck crawled with anticipation as the eyes of the idle technical operators watched the battle unfold. As many times before this one, they had no idea what was going through Manganator’s mind, and that was how he liked it.
He watched the display, waiting for the nukes on the outside of the small moon and the predicted path of the pursuing avengers to get in just the right positioning.
“Fire three photons into our slowburn nukes!” Manganator shouted.
There was a flurry of typing followed by a loud Thwap as the torpedoes soared from their housings, quickly catching up with the slow moving nukes, just as they reached their closest point with the moon.
“And now fire our remaining nukes at high burn in direct orbit with the planet!”
This time, the nukes screamed out at inescapable velocities.
The small moon, which sat lazily above the planet, was illuminated by a large series of nuclear explosions directly on it’s outside as the torpedoes caused the nukes to explode. There was a bright flash, and a shockwave. The small moon first lost bits and fragments, but soon it shattered, shooting a shotgun of small and medium-sized rocks towards the planet surface.
The wide hailstorm yielded Manganator’s prey. Five ship’s shields shimmered, shielding the ships from the impacts of the fragments from the moon’s explosion. A medium sized chunk slammed directly into a ship, and with a bright flash it’s shield failed. The ship was thrown aside by the force of the rock, and there was a small fireball as it’s fuel ignited. The fireball seemed to smolder, and then the ship was shot towards the planet’s surface by another large explosion on it’s wing. It’s path was shown by the trailing flame as it entered the planet’s atmosphere and began to burn.
That’s one.
A grin came over Manganator’s face as the nukes swept in. Some of the avengers attempted to maneuver away from the incoming missiles, but it was too late.
The first nuke locked in on the shield source, and slammed into the lead avenger, cracking it’s shield promptly and engulfing it in a fireball.
The next shot past the ship it had targeted by some quick maneuver, and re-locked on another avenger in the back, barely hitting the side. This sent the avenger into a spin, and shieldless, it’s explosion decorated the side of a large falling rock.
He managed to see one avenger, fire a burst of plasma into one of the falling rocks, and then fire it’s nuke, shattering the large rock into many smaller ones. The avenger then darted among the rubble in a wild attempt to escape the nukes. But no pilot could fly his way through those falling rocks.
“Fire the photons into that mess,” Manganator shouted to Wordsworth. Just as he said this, his last nuke detonated on another unlucky avenger with a thump.
Photons arced from the ship, blowing the rocks into even smaller pieces, and putting fireballs in the sky. It was a cage of fire and shrapnel that even the best flyer wouldn’t be able to survive.
Closer to the planet, the rocks began to enter the atmosphere, burning like many deadly drops of crimson rain.
Manganator felt pride rushing through his body again, for the first time in a while. He felt energized.
“Sir, there’s one ship still semi-intact, but it seems to be dead in space, and falling to the planet,” one operator said in awe.
Manganator quirked his head in confusion. “It’s shields?”
“Nearly full, sir, but the thrusters and cloaking seem to be offline for now.”
Manganator was impressed. Perhaps the same pilot who shot his way through the middle of that larger rock.
“Approach with caution. Let’s see if we can get that ship into our bay... maybe finally find out what the hell is going on.”
As they approached, the avenger still did nothing, slowly being pulled towards the planet. “Ok, edge in and prepare the boarding craft to do some tugging so we can wheel her in,” Manganator said.
But before the boarding craft could be launched, the avenger suddenly came to life and veered towards the ISC, ramming it’s nose through the outer hull right next to the bridge. “Jesus Christ!” one surprised man shouted.
“This is Duece! You may of heard of me!” a wild voice roared over the unrestricted radio channel.
Manganator looked over at Hammel and gave him a slight nod. Hammel picked up his receiver and began to issue orders to the Marine squads on standby.
Manganator, wanting to buy some time, slowly picked up the radio. “This is Command actual,” Manganator said calmly.
“You think you’re one smart son of a I love you man!, don’t you?” the voice shot back. “Well here’s news for you, I got an armed nuke that I can punch right through the hull of your precious little ship. Now we don’t want this to end badly, so you better keep the marines off me, got it?”
Grinding his teeth, Manganator nodded his head to Hammel, who picked up his radio and called off the Marines.
“Ok, now I want you to...”
“Sir, I got in,” one of the technical advisors shouted. Manganator grinned and activated his radio.
“We’re not going to be doing anything,” Manganator said into his radio with a smile.
“By hell you wont!” the pilot shouted from the other end. “You don’t and I’ll burn your ship up with this nuke, pall.”
Manganator looked over at the display of the avenger and chuckled. “You don’t have a nuke, you don’t even have your weapons.”
“Yes I do,” the man shot back.
“Well... in the least you don’t have your firewall operational anymore, because I just hacked your ship, Duece,” Manganator explained.
“Oh...”
that damn firewall, last time I use zone alarm!!!OMG it's Deuce! I love the last two chapters. All the fire power and nukes flying I didn't think anything would survive. When you mentioned no pilot could survive, the first person that came to mind was Starwynd. I suddenly had a moment of deja vu, thinking he would pop up. Keep going with this story it's getting quite interesting.
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Manganator
- Posts: 1329
- Joined: Mon Jun 06, 2005 11:52 pm
- Location: Massachusettes
- Contact:
Of all the sectors of the Starcruiser, the brig was the most grim. And this wasn’t just because of the fact that it was packed with jail cells and disheartened prisoners, set to be unloaded at earth, where most of them would serve decades in prison, and others would likely be executed.
It was because place was just awful in general.
It stank like urine and vomit, a smell that never quite washed out, and the floors were constantly being dirtied by the most permeating stains the human body had to offer.
There was often trays of tools in the dark hallways, filled with all kinds of goodies, like buckets for waterboarding, little knives, hand restraints, speakers to play aggravating music to prisoners 24/7, some of the tools fruitlessly resting in disinfectant, which itself was always a few shades darker than normal, the tint of blood.
All of this within the standards set by the UN law “prohibiting torture”.
Fortunately though, the ship had no professional torturers. The marines who’s duty it was to go through with the interrogations never relished the practice... well at least most of them didn’t, anyways. Manganator had been a marine, he knew that the psychological screening didn’t filter out all of the bad apples.
He finally wheeled his way into the solitary cell that had been squared away for their special guest. Duece.
With his ship fully hacked, it hadn’t been hard to get him out of the ship, but that didn’t keep him from trying to run from the marines to assault a maintenance worker.
Captain Anderson, the young marine who had been charged with the interrogation was standing in the corner breathing heavily, sweat running down his scowling face, which was odd considering the Marine was in very good shape.
Duece was on his hands and knees, bleeding from his face, and making a sound somewhere between a haggard cough and a laugh. It was hard to distinguish any facial characteristics from beneath the sheen of blood, but Manganator could clearly see the look of cocky defiance painted in his pointed stare and over his sneering lips.
Judging from the injuries Duece had sustained, and the rate of Anderson’s breathing, Manganator deduced that he had interrupted a pretty good beating.
“Working him over pretty well, eh Anderson?” Manganator asked with an amused grin. The Captain’s eyes flashed with a bit of regret. Anderson was the type that didn’t like to lose control of his emotions, and was generally very well guarded.
“He has quite a mouth on him, sir,” Anderson said defensively.
“Your... mom has quite a mouth.... on her...” Duece mumbled with another half-laugh, sticky matted blood dripping from a busted lip.
Anderson answered Duece’s allegation with his steel toed boot. Exhaling sharply, Duece reeled, flipping over from the force of the kick to the side of his chest.
“Hey Duece, you hungry?” Manganator asked with the prisoner still laying there.
Duece’s eyes remained closed, his body motionless save the steady heaving of his slim torso.
“Yooo hooo!” Manganator mocked, wheeling closer. “You wanna eat something?”
His eyes fluttered a bit, and then opened, looking at Manganator with distaste. “Depends on what you got, crippie.”
Manganator felt a flare of anger, but laughed it off.
“I’m not going to make you eat your own feces you know, although technically I could... wouldn’t be against the rules.” Manganator waited to see the prisoner’s response to this threat.
After a long pause, Duece replied with deliberate clearness, completely lacking his previous sarcasm. “We’re both rule-breakers, you and I. Only difference between the two of us, is that you sold your soul to become the UN’s I love you man!.”
Anderson wound up to strike, but Manganator held up his arm to stop him.
“And right now you’re my I love you man!, what does that make you?” Manganator asked.
“Free,” he spat. Manganator felt like he was going to like this man.
“Get us some pizza,” Manganator told Anderson offhandedly.
“Sir, are you sure that...” Anderson objected.
“Yes! Pizza!” Manganator said, giving the Marine captain a glare. Anderson fumbled, as if he were tripping over words to say, and then saluted and left the cell, walking briskly.
Duece laughed again.
“What’s so funny?” Manganator questioned, wheeling a bit closer.
Duece shook his head, and stretched his back, gingerly struggling himself into a sitting position, which was quite difficult with his hands bound.
“You made a big mistake, crippie boy,” he muttered darkly, rising to his feet.
“First of all, I’m old enough to be your father. Second of all, I made no mistake, and thir...”
Manganator was unable to finish before Duece flung himself forward wildly, tied arms raised over his head like a hammer. But his midair jump stopped abruptly as Manganator kicked him as hard as he could in the ribs with his metal cast.
The force hurt just a bit on his heavily sprained ankle, but it apparently hurt Duece a lot more. “Thirdly, I’m not hugging crippled. At least not crippled enough to get held hostage by a restrained, beat up, washed out pilot,” Manganator shot, rubbing his sore ankle with his good hand.
Duece, thoroughly defeated, slumped against the bulkhead. “I’m hungry,” he whispered reservedly.
“Pizza’s comin.”
They waited in awkward silence for a bit longer, when Duece finally broke through.
“I see the black tattoo on your index finger,” he said, pointing to the black mark on Manganator’s trigger finger, a common marine tattoo. “You were in the marines?”
“Ya. That was a long time ago,” Manganator replied.
“I have a lot more respect for the marines than the straight-to-a-ship’s helm richboy assholes.... What got you so far up in the ranks that you had to become a flying fairy anyhow?”
Manganator smiled.
“It’s a long story.”
It was because place was just awful in general.
It stank like urine and vomit, a smell that never quite washed out, and the floors were constantly being dirtied by the most permeating stains the human body had to offer.
There was often trays of tools in the dark hallways, filled with all kinds of goodies, like buckets for waterboarding, little knives, hand restraints, speakers to play aggravating music to prisoners 24/7, some of the tools fruitlessly resting in disinfectant, which itself was always a few shades darker than normal, the tint of blood.
All of this within the standards set by the UN law “prohibiting torture”.
Fortunately though, the ship had no professional torturers. The marines who’s duty it was to go through with the interrogations never relished the practice... well at least most of them didn’t, anyways. Manganator had been a marine, he knew that the psychological screening didn’t filter out all of the bad apples.
He finally wheeled his way into the solitary cell that had been squared away for their special guest. Duece.
With his ship fully hacked, it hadn’t been hard to get him out of the ship, but that didn’t keep him from trying to run from the marines to assault a maintenance worker.
Captain Anderson, the young marine who had been charged with the interrogation was standing in the corner breathing heavily, sweat running down his scowling face, which was odd considering the Marine was in very good shape.
Duece was on his hands and knees, bleeding from his face, and making a sound somewhere between a haggard cough and a laugh. It was hard to distinguish any facial characteristics from beneath the sheen of blood, but Manganator could clearly see the look of cocky defiance painted in his pointed stare and over his sneering lips.
Judging from the injuries Duece had sustained, and the rate of Anderson’s breathing, Manganator deduced that he had interrupted a pretty good beating.
“Working him over pretty well, eh Anderson?” Manganator asked with an amused grin. The Captain’s eyes flashed with a bit of regret. Anderson was the type that didn’t like to lose control of his emotions, and was generally very well guarded.
“He has quite a mouth on him, sir,” Anderson said defensively.
“Your... mom has quite a mouth.... on her...” Duece mumbled with another half-laugh, sticky matted blood dripping from a busted lip.
Anderson answered Duece’s allegation with his steel toed boot. Exhaling sharply, Duece reeled, flipping over from the force of the kick to the side of his chest.
“Hey Duece, you hungry?” Manganator asked with the prisoner still laying there.
Duece’s eyes remained closed, his body motionless save the steady heaving of his slim torso.
“Yooo hooo!” Manganator mocked, wheeling closer. “You wanna eat something?”
His eyes fluttered a bit, and then opened, looking at Manganator with distaste. “Depends on what you got, crippie.”
Manganator felt a flare of anger, but laughed it off.
“I’m not going to make you eat your own feces you know, although technically I could... wouldn’t be against the rules.” Manganator waited to see the prisoner’s response to this threat.
After a long pause, Duece replied with deliberate clearness, completely lacking his previous sarcasm. “We’re both rule-breakers, you and I. Only difference between the two of us, is that you sold your soul to become the UN’s I love you man!.”
Anderson wound up to strike, but Manganator held up his arm to stop him.
“And right now you’re my I love you man!, what does that make you?” Manganator asked.
“Free,” he spat. Manganator felt like he was going to like this man.
“Get us some pizza,” Manganator told Anderson offhandedly.
“Sir, are you sure that...” Anderson objected.
“Yes! Pizza!” Manganator said, giving the Marine captain a glare. Anderson fumbled, as if he were tripping over words to say, and then saluted and left the cell, walking briskly.
Duece laughed again.
“What’s so funny?” Manganator questioned, wheeling a bit closer.
Duece shook his head, and stretched his back, gingerly struggling himself into a sitting position, which was quite difficult with his hands bound.
“You made a big mistake, crippie boy,” he muttered darkly, rising to his feet.
“First of all, I’m old enough to be your father. Second of all, I made no mistake, and thir...”
Manganator was unable to finish before Duece flung himself forward wildly, tied arms raised over his head like a hammer. But his midair jump stopped abruptly as Manganator kicked him as hard as he could in the ribs with his metal cast.
The force hurt just a bit on his heavily sprained ankle, but it apparently hurt Duece a lot more. “Thirdly, I’m not hugging crippled. At least not crippled enough to get held hostage by a restrained, beat up, washed out pilot,” Manganator shot, rubbing his sore ankle with his good hand.
Duece, thoroughly defeated, slumped against the bulkhead. “I’m hungry,” he whispered reservedly.
“Pizza’s comin.”
They waited in awkward silence for a bit longer, when Duece finally broke through.
“I see the black tattoo on your index finger,” he said, pointing to the black mark on Manganator’s trigger finger, a common marine tattoo. “You were in the marines?”
“Ya. That was a long time ago,” Manganator replied.
“I have a lot more respect for the marines than the straight-to-a-ship’s helm richboy assholes.... What got you so far up in the ranks that you had to become a flying fairy anyhow?”
Manganator smiled.
“It’s a long story.”
I'm loving this man.