Chapter 9 - Solutions: Practical, Firing, and Kinetic.

Fighting IVORI's massive combat frame alone would have been a bad idea, in and of itself. Taking on IVORI and three of the trashcan kill bots, with just a blaster and your scales, just seemed suicidal. So why fight fair?

"Zoraida!" You call over the helmet channel. "Can you shoot that bastard?" You kick your jets on and start to fly towards the Golden Dancer. The gunship was making short advances as it waited for its Captain.

"I'm trying to do a lot, Captain." Zoraida's voice sounded strained over the comms. "I can warm up the guns, but you're going have to get in and shoot." You see IVORI clatter to the edge of the remaining walkway, red circles locked on you. You flip it off as you continue to jet towards your ship. It's feet clamp down on the panels of the deck, denting the metal in their grip.

"Fair enough!" You reply and accelerate further toward the gunship. Your suit's power going down fast.

You're halfway there when you see IVORI grab one of his minion bots and chuck it toward the Golden Dancer. The metal bot doesn't resist as it's picked up and hurled like the weapon it is. It just opens it's clamping arms to catch whatever part of the hull it can. "You've got incoming!" You cry over the comms.

"Yes, Captain. I see it. Thank you."  Zoraida clips back. The turrets shudder and their canopies light up from within. Just before you land on the hull, you see a circle of lights shine bright on the deck just between the foremost gun and the canopy as a metal iris dilates. Your boot magnets clamp down on the deck and you grab the edge of the iris when you see one of the metal drones skid against the deck.

"FUCK-" You growl as you fire into the metal bot, it doesn't falter, as the metal on it's body is blackens and bends under the blast. "-OFF." You finish, firing at the arm holding it to the ship, YOUR SHIP. The arm buckles and snaps and the Bot flails in the void. You shoot it again and it starts to blast away.

That would be cause for relief, if you didn't see IVORI grabbing another drone to toss at you. No guns, huh, scrapheap? You chuckle into your own mind, as you pull yourself inside. That's fine by me. For a moment, you feel a strange sense of vertigo. Then, your feet are drawn to the deck below you. The iris closes and thick gusts of air spray into the airlock. Your suit makes a hiss as you can hear the sounds around you again, and you feel the weight on your back shift as something disconnects the jetpack from your suit. A hatch slides away and you leap through it, into your ship.

You take off and every glance around the hall triggers flashes of memories. The moan of the engines and the warm rumble under your feet. Laughs, tears, warm skin, and heated breath; but you've got a Bot to bust, you'll remember and make new memories later. The lights pass a ladder leading up into the first turret, then turn toward the second. "Ammo is loaded!" Zoraida's voice calls in your ear, and echos on the ship's PA speakers. "Kill the damn bastard!" She cries over the comms, and a beat later, "Sir!"

"On it!" You climb up the ladder, three rungs at a time as you pull yourself into the single seat of the turret. You hear the ladder click down, and out of the way, as you flick buttons and hit a switch. It's the process, you remember, for manual control. Your feet find pedals in the seat and you quickly turn the gun toward where you'd last seen IVORI.

But, the Golden Dancer already descends, away from the dying ship. You see the blinking red lights of the drone, flung moments ago, drifting out into the cold Black. You also see IVORI, holding the last drone in one claw. It leaps fast toward the gunship, with enough force that the walkway under it was torn apart by the force. Even hundreds of meters away, you can make out the glint in the circle cameras on its head. 

Good thing these turrets have zoom features. You smile as you line up the cross hairs over the mechanical monster. A shrill tone makes the splitting headache oddly bearable; as you try and find something witty to say. You know the thing can hear you, after all.

"IVORI Unit," your lips pull up in a sneer as your gloved fingers caress the triggers on the handles. "You have FAILED your mission." You squeeze with the pressure needed to trigger the circuit and fire the guns. On either side of you, white hot plasma ignites, purging the cannon barrels of any errant particles or obstructions. Then, from each cannon, a 1KG mass of tungsten blinks forward at more than one thousand meters per second. 

It's a bit like watching smoke disperse as IVORI's metal torso is shredded into pieces, and an explosion from what's left of its lower body tosses it about. Then, from behind it, an explosion flashes in your sight, you feel the headache fade and ebb, like a vice is being unwound from around your head. You feel the Dancer shake, and when you open your eyes, you're much further from the ship, which has started to tear itself apart. Explosions of fuel begin to go off inside it. 

Your shots must have set off something in engineering. Before you can get a better look than burning ship fuel and flickering robot parts, the view is pulled away as Dancer rolls and starts to fly away from the scene.

"HOT DAMN!" You cry out as the feeling of relief joins with the elation of putting down IVORI, and the raw thrill of firing big cannons in space.

"My sentiments exactly, Captain." Zoraida's voice is cheerful again. Maybe she felt the headache too? Wait. If IVORI was causing the headache, and Zoraida's connected to your mind in same mechanical sense as it was- "No time for that, love." She whispers. "I'm pulling quadruple duty right now, and I can't do engines, sensors, helm, AND plot our FTL vector at the same time. I'm just one girl."

"I'll be right there." You promise as you flick two switches and hear the turret hatch open underneath you. You push off the seat and drop out of the turret and onto the deck. Lights lead you back the way you came, but you hit a button to return the turret to bridge control. You can slave the guns to fire forward from the helm, this way. You remembered that. 

You run, and the sense of relief and absence of the headache make all the flashes more vivid and pressing; so by the time you open the door to the bridge, your pants are bulging something fierce. You stop short in your stride as something odd, but familiar, sits in front of you. 

Set in the deck of the bridge is a large, well, egg, of brass and gold. Spirals of the metals swirl in patterns of vines and flowers as you walk past toward the other seats at the front of the bridge. It's not a trick of the light or the polished surface. The metal is shifting. You reach out a hand to touch it, run your hands over it. But, before the tips of your gloves make contact, "Captain." Zoraida's voice chirps from the egg. "The incoming ships are hailing us."

You look forward and see the forward view port of the Golden dancer. It's wide and has a tint of gold from the protective materials that line the canopy. You leap into a chair you recognize as your own, and sigh as it fits your ass perfectly. Behind you, Zoraida laughs happily and warmth spreads over your shoulders and down your back and it holds tight to your ass as  Zoraida's light laughter become throaty chuckles.

As you run your hands over the controls of the vessel, her chuckles are cut short as she gasps. Then, lets out a low moan, when you grip the controls firmly. They aren't limited lever throttles and control sticks. Your fingers run over tracking spheres that gleam with the same gold metal as the egg behind you. The flashes of training roll back as your hands fly over the keys and control is given over to your station. 

"I have the ship." You say aloud.

"Aye, you have the ship." Zoraida purrs in confirmation. "Incoming still hailing." She adds, a moment later, annoyed.

"Who are they?" You ask. You see smaller screens pop up, showing a massive, two kilometer long warship studded with heavy kinetic batteries, missiles, and a whole lot of black 'classified' material. The screens also showed a group of over twenty fighter and strike craft already launched. Two timers count down to 'weapons range': 'Our' and 'Their'; 'Their' weapon count down was smaller than the other.

"They are registered as Tavus'Raluk Democratic Collaboration Vessels." Zoraida reads off the data. "They are demanding we stand down and prepare for boarding, as this ship has several felony warrants attached to its reported crew. I am plotting a course out of the system. However, I-I must ask," Her voice shudders, "Do we talk," a screen opens up with the prompt to hail," "Fight," A list of what the ship does, or rather doesn't have, appears, "or do we moon 'em?" She manages to get the words out, and in your mind's eye, you see a gold lips worried by grinning teeth, a deep brass blush, and you can feel her breath on your neck when she finally asks:

"What are your orders, My Captain?"