Fate of Terra - Rise of Empires

Chapter 7.1 - Rewrite

Michael stood at the front of his assembly. The Terran Federation's old destroyer, now finished with its refit, was on its way for a test flight. Geeta Nahar, the Indian woman whom had inherited the craft, was eager to be on her way.

He'd stood quietly, listening to the thrum of the massive engines roar to life before settling into a quieter thrum. The doors, emblazoned with his nations flag, slowly opened to the darkness beyond. The faintest of shimmers visible for a split second, the five shields cloaking the Intrepid became visible, fluctuating to the new light from within.

'How many are we expecting?' His question was coupled with a turn to Raverjah. "They'll arrive shortly, are you prepared?"

"As much as I can be," His friendly smile slowly fading as they turned to face the entryway.

'One occupant,' Pan's silky voice replied, accented with electronic tones.

'One?' He asked, sending a mental head cock her way. 'Whose 'they' then?'

'I believe you will discover that upon their arrival.' Her mysterious tone mixed with a light laugh at his mental grumbling. 'Fear not, Master, I merely wish to see your surprise.'

'You never fail to surprise me.'

"How many are we expecting?" Raverjah broke in, seeing the craft on approach.

"Just the one," Michael said, eyes tracking the gunship. "They've been tailing us for some time now. Recognise it?"

Raverjah ran a claw around the rim of his mouth. It was a chunky little monster. Hardly what Michael would call sleek, even by spaceship standards. Antennae plugged in here, a strange concoction of a landing gear, a cockpit that bulged from the front like a frog's inflated throat. However, the colossal engine slapped onto the craft's ass gave it an almost... hungry, look. An eagerness for the chase.

Raverjah shook his head, "Not of the Delegation." He gestured at a symbol on the side. "Alliance made, civilian, it's had a lot of work done to it. I guess it's some trader hoping to sneak in on potential riches by being first contact."

"That remains to be seen," Michael granted. "That remains to be seen."

Further conversation was impossible by the landing routine. 'Pan, can you bring up some of the Shredders please?'

'Is that necessary, Master? The threat of a single occupant is more than satiated by the troops, is it not?'

'It's not for safety.'

''What do you mean?' She asked, a metaphysical frown appearing in his mind's eye.

Mentally projecting the image, 'They aren't going to be for protection, it's to unsettle them.'

'I fear I don't follow, Master.' Pan's voice sounded irritated as she viewed the sequences, filtering them through her analytics for similarities. 'You wish to intimidate a captured vessel? Would they not be intimidated by the capture itself?'

'Their ship's captured. The occupant, whoever they are, hasn't.'

Pan digested that, he felt her eyeballing it from multiple directions, trying to gain insight by running it through different programmes.

'People like to blame others for their shortcomings,' Michael tried a different tact. 'Their 'machinery' failed, they didn't. Their opponent got lucky, that sort of thing.'

'Forgive me, Master. But weren't you the one that explained to me that people make their own luck?'

'Oh they do,' Michael agreed. 'But they'll still blame their shortcomigns on that.'