Kusari Gold

[arvg]

Dulce et decorum est, propatrae mortae

A bulk head crashes to the deck behind his chair. The pall of death and the thick smell of acrid smoke filled the air. The shattered remains of one of the command consoles beside him reminded him that his luck still held. Fraser had been leaning over Wheeler’s shoulder at the helm when it had blown out. If Fraser had been in his command chair he would have been dead.

Some where on the decks below in the heart of the upper section, Nurse Ta’Rhya battled valiantly to save lives with her medical staff, Doctor Marvin had been killed in one of the Kusari's lucky first salvos. But with the primary cannon being blown apart, there was little hope left on those bloodstained decks.

Hartley had some how managed to keep the ship together, a long stream of cursing coming through the PA every time the Kusari destroyer scored another hit.

But they were dead in the water, floating on thrusters as the Kusari destroyer limped along side, closing the distance. Their intent apparent, they were going to attempt to board the T’Zaht and take her as a prize.

Frazer’d be damned if he let that happen.

This was his ship, he had fought hard to get her, now to loose her for this....

The Captain rose standing on the heaving deck, staring out from the murky depths of fatigue and adrenalin. The ship around him was a ruin, the shattered bulkheads, the blackened consoles. Wheeler grimly at the helm pulling the ship through tight maneuvers, Chuck at the tactical station, quivering from fatigue, trying to wrestle with failing weapons systems. The situation was dire.

“Order our marines to the main hatches.” Fraser turn to Chuck’s shocked face. As Fraser tap a key on the arm of his command chair. “All hands this is the Captain, stand by for Kusari boarding parties, our marines are deployed… lets give them a hand moping the floor with these Kusari B*st*rds.”


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