Kusari Gold

[arvg]

The Bretonian Gunboats was nothing like her distant cousin the Hatchet. The two had been pitched, throughout the war, as symbols of both sides. Like the Messerschmitt and the Spitfire of World War Two, they were locked in a deadly duel for deep space. Each possessing impressive attributes that made them well suited to combat one another.

The Bretonian Gunboats had been built as a hunter-killer, to operate in wolf packs towards the end of the Nomad war. A title that they had more than earned with a reputation as ferocious combat vessels. Bulky and clean, sturdy and rugged. They had a resolve that wouldn’t surrender, capable of being a threat to ships many times her size. She was agile and quick, quad primary cannons gave her a bite, while her nano-augmented armour gave her a resilient toughness to match.

The Hatchet was a weapon of stealth and versatility. I/R baffles masked his engine wash, while carbon composites shielded her from prying eyes. She could be out fitted with an electronic warfare suite to foul up enemy radars, while his in-line pin-point mounts made missile fire impractical against her. Her modular design meant she was easy to repair, to configure and to deploy. A silent and deadly killer, she wasn’t to be intimidated by her Bretonian nemesis.

T’zaht trained her quad pulse cannons on her enemy as she slipped quietly through the darkness down upon him. Fraser leaning on the back of Wheeler’s chair, breathing down his neck as he watched for any sign of life that would have Chuck open fire and end the Hatchet once and for all.

“The Akira,” Chuck stated as the computer digitally enhanced the numbers painted upon the Hatchet’s hull. “Judging from the engine block slung outside, I’d say she is one of the new upgrades.”

“They all are these days,” Fraser murmured. “I remember when they used to be slow and underpowered…”

The Kusari had benefited greatly from the innovations of Kishiro technologies. Their ships receiving a much needed boost in technology that put them almost on par with Bretonian engineering. Dragons that could out run anything but new Templars. Hatchets that could, at last, keep up with the Bretonian Gunboats.

Fraser was simply thankful that the Kusari hadn’t outfitted the destroyers with Zero-point weaponry, or the war would have been finished a long time ago. Though he didn’t doubt that the Kusari cannon mounted to the bow, would be any less deadly.

“How do we do this,” Fraser murmured thoughtfully, walking back to the chart table behind the command chair, activating the holographic display to examine their quarry. “Standard compliment of Kusari Troopers on a Hatchet put it anywhere close to a platoon. Then there is the two man officer flight crew, and the engineer… we’re pretty severely outnumbered.”

“We can blow out their power systems,” Hartley suggested, standing back by the doors to the bridge the Senior Technician pointed to the dorsal side of the Hatchet. “There’s an access panel up here, I know because I had to work on one before the war when she was attached to 242nd. The latches aren’t as strong as the armour around it. One clean shot should fry their electrical systems, shut down life support and then we just wait while the crew suffocates…”

“Hello,” Chuck broke in. “They’ve spotted us… incoming fire.”

The shields flared, absorbing the auto-cannon fire from the pin-point defences. Dissipating the kinetic impact before it could be a real threat. Useful against fighters and missiles, the weapons were far too light to breach the Bretonian Gunboats’s shields.

“Their primary guns aren’t moving, and their missile launchers are still squarely latched,” Chuck reported. “They probably aren’t getting power down to them, engines are still dark.”

“Something’s wrong here,” Fraser said eying the hologram and looking out at the dancing blue light of the shield impacts. He touched the controls for a broader view of the area, taking in the nearby planet and its solitary moon.

“What is it?” Chuck asked turning back.

“Something feels wrong,” Fraser answered, folding his arms as he shook his head. “What would you do in this situation?” Fraser murmured walking towards the observation window, resting his hands on it as he stared out into the darkness. “Hatchet all alone, wounded bird… Missiles and turret both offline…” He looked back at Wheeler. “Pull us off and away, flank speed. Chuck I need to know if there are any readings on the scopes that might be a Hatchet sitting out there dark and silent…”

“What?” Chuck blinked, turning to comply hurriedly.

“I used to command a sloop,” Fraser said. “And I played this kind of trick. Bait and lure, see who comes up and then strike at it when it is least prepared. The Kusari are adapting Bretonian strategies…”

“Give me a pair of missiles,” Fraser ordered. “Fire at the crippled Hatchet… let’s see what they do if they think I’m not buying the ruse.”


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