4 Forge

0630 Hours

Mission Briefing…

                  “…reports of increased pirate activity on the Nexus shipping lanes. Artemis-IV reports a delay in transit relay construction due to the disruption in the supply chain. We’ve got food shortages on Zera and the outpost on the moon of Korr can’t field half of its ships due to stolen or damaged parts. In short, these pirates have become an increased threat that demands action. We’ve located their base of operations – Odin’s Belt – the asteroid field surrounding Cartha’s shattered moon. But we won’t fly alone. Our allies from New Sparta and Blackrock will be lending us three ships each, as well as capable pilots. Furthermore, we’ll be joined by two Xendarin Lance Attack Craft. I’ll turn it over to our Xendarin liaison…”

                  The tall, gangly Xendarin took the podium, two hands placed on the edges of it, while his other two arms expanded the holographic image of Odin’s Belt. He spoke through the translator nestled at the base of his neck, the purplish tentacles of his mouth moving in time with the raspy, sharp clicks of his native language. His bulbous, green eyes studied the room.

                  “Ladies and gentlemen, this will not be easy, but together, through the alliance we have forged, we can ensure the collective prosperity and survival of our people in the face of any threat. Now, if you’ll focus your attention on this sector here…”

1120 Hours

                  Finn banked hard right, skirting the edges of a rocky chunk three times the size of his Sabre Interceptor. The target lock alarm blared through his cockpit, screaming at him to do something about the four XR70 missiles homed in on him.

                  Pulse blasts hammered his shielding and streaked past him, through the inky darkness of space.

                  “I’m trying!” he shouted back, angling towards a cluster of floating asteroids and punching the thrusters up to a level that had him pressed into the back of his seat. “Blasted pirates using our own tech against us!”

                  A Xendarin Lance screamed past him, its burst drives roaring as it opened up with its bottom-mounted pulse lasers.

                  “Two down, two to go,” said the Xendarin pilot, over Finn’s comms.

                  “Copy,” Finn said. “I owe you a…what do you guys drink?”

                  He didn’t wait for an answer. His display showed the two remaining missiles too close for comfort. And the target lock alarm was driving him mad. He leveled out and steered for the slowly drifting chunks of Cartha’s splintered moon.

                  Sweat dripped down into his eyes and his heart hammered, threatening to burst from his flight suit.

                  BEEP…BEEP…BEEP…WARNING…CONTACT IMMINENT….

                  “I know!” Finn shouted. “Wait for it….wait for it…”

                  He ripped the control stick back so hard he thought he might just tear it free. The Sabre’s nose shot up, just clearing the rocks, grinding its underbelly against the pitted and scarred pieces of space rock.

                  The remaining two missiles hit the asteroids and exploded into balls of fire behind him, casting a bright glow in his wake.

                  Finn paid them no mind. He had a job to do and people to protect.

                  He shot left, back into the fight, a Vortex Pirate ship in his sights.

                  “Let’s finish this,” he growled.