Year of the Snake: Day 17 – The Rear-Guard Action
The Penitent Thief isn't looking so "Starlight" anymore. One of its main thrusters is belching blue ionized sparks, and the tiger-striped hull is scorched from a near-miss with an Ophidian bio-plasma bolt. Inside, Sprocket is screaming at the console as she reroutes power from the life support just to keep the shields at 1D.
"We’re venting atmosphere, Captain! I can't get the hyperdrive to cycle while those snake-bastards are jamming our frequency!"
Suddenly, the sensor board lights up with a massive friendly signature. Dropping out of the Arial-shift is the Tiger Force Shadow, its hull gleaming with the orange and black stripes of the Captain's personal guard. It doesn't signal; it just opens fire.
The Action: The heavy ship banks hard, its dorsal batteries lighting up the dark of the Ouroboros Drift. It puts itself directly between the Penitent Thief and the pursuing Ophidian "Fang-Class" interceptors.
"Go, Thief!" the comms crackle. "We’ll keep their heads down. Get to the Landing and power down. We'll find our own way home."
On the main viewer, the view was apocalyptic. The Tiger Force Shadow had engaged the enemy, but the Ophidians hadn’t sent a standard fleet. They had unleashed a Constrictor-Class Bio-Dreadnought.
It was a nightmare of meat and carapace—a living ship that had uncoiled from the dark. Massive, fleshy tendrils were wrapped around the Tiger Ship’s hull, crushing the shielding as it tried to squeeze the life out of the vessel. The Shadow was firing its turrets point-blank into the creature’s hide, blowing chunks of bio-matter into space, buying the Penitent Thief time to escape.
"Get us out of here, Sprocket!" I ordered. "Dive for the swamp!"
We hit the atmosphere of Hedges' Landing hard. The sensors fried instantly in the magnetic storm. We were flying blind, plummeting toward the dark canopy. But we didn't crash.
As we broke through the cloud layer, the bioluminescent vines of the swamp seemed to rise up to meet us. They didn't strike the ship; they caught it. Like a web of light, the flora of the Convergence slowed our descent, guiding the battered freighter down into the soft, welcoming mud of the "Cold Storage" zone.
We were safe. But above us, the sky flashed orange and purple as the war raged on.
Yours Captain Hedges
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