Providence – Part 8
This will be the last Providence post for awhile. I’m swapping over to the new format starting next week, and I’ll take Friday to do an in-depth book review. Wednesdays are, and will remain, a chance for me to share various parts of what I’ve discovered as I continue wading towards my future. It’s good for me, in that it gives me a chance to actually put thoughts down into words. It’s good for you, because I write one heck of a lot of stories here, so it has to be hard to keep things straight. The story pace will get both faster, but simultaneously more readable. Instead of doing one story for like three months, we’ll do one story in one week. The stories will be shorter, which stinks, but the stories will also be tighter written and more enjoyable because of it. I tend to get lost in the weeds of world-building when I go longer, and drift away from the action which I have come to enjoy most about my own writing.
I’m going to redouble efforts to promote my blog. It’s not growing in a fashion that I had hoped, and I know that part of it is my own lack of doing more than posting on twitter. I hate Facebook with the passion of a Star Wars Fanboy, so it’s really hard for me to admit that’s probably a good platform to use. I gagged a bit writing that, but I want to be an author more than I despise Facebook. So there’s that.
As far as other social media, I’m going to be looking at Instagram and Tumblr for more visibility. I believe I’m at the stage in my career where, if exposed to a broader audience, I would find myself with a larger dedicated reader-base. It’s just a matter of being heard over the insane clamor which exists right now. It’s such a wonderful time to be an author, and it’s equally nightmarish to get a career going. I’ll get there, but it’s just going to take Herculean effort to make this thing happen.
Time to get my god-like strength to flexing.
Providence – Part 8
Ready or not, it was time for Janet Magrathia Hinshiro to take command and save Clan Inoue. Bursts of purple fire spiraled around her, but without the significantly larger profile of her forceshell to attack, Janet found evading them far easier.
Janet barked out the verbal code keys she had long ago memorized as she continued evading enemy fire. Codes given to her for this very moment, codes she had hoped never to use. She shook slightly, but she sucked in a deep breath and gave the final command giving her full bandwidth control of the shelf and the branch exit for her announcement.
“Members of Clan Inoue, my name is Janet Magrathia Hinshiro, daughter of Octiva Hinshiro the Third. My mother is dead, and by the guidelines of the Clan Inoue charter, I am now assuming command. We face a dire threat, and to meet that threat will require all of our courage and all of our wits. I need the most senior staff still living to join together and set maximum priority on restoring the shelf forceshell to full strength. I need the commanders of the Juggernauts and the captains of at least three Class V trade ships in system to comm me at the following wavelength.”
The ships following Janet continued to fire upon her, but several of the ships had peeled off to begin attacking the still recovering hole which had been blown in the forceshell by the petal energy weapon. Janet grinned. She’d been hoping they would be foolish enough to try something like that. Her cutter was a miniature war machine, but there were only so many opponents she could face at once. Ten to one was suicide, but three to one? When she had the advantage in maneuverability? She liked those odds just fine.
A few faces appeared, those she had requested contact her. She barked orders as she spooled up her weapon systems, and a few moments later the faces were gone. A fierce grin split her face as the adrenaline hit her, and she knew that everything would be just fine. She’d lived on the edge so long, racing and plotting, raiding and loving, that engaging alien craft in a dogfight felt like coming home.
Her ship whirled, cutting a turn so sharp it should’ve sliced the tiny ship in half. She didn’t bother bringing another forceshell to bear. The weapons would only block her vision should they connect with it anyway. She’d done plenty of racing without one, the increase in size and added atmosphere drag unwelcome when you were fighting to shave seconds off the clock. She made sure that there was nothing past her targets but open space, and began firing the impeller guns. They worked by using magnetic railing to accelerate metal slugs to fractional rates of light speed. They were hard to aim in the constant three dimensional rat-race of a space dogfight, but if you connected, the results were spectacular.
Her attackers, caught unawares by the sudden reversal of hunter and hunted, failed to make use of the closer target.
Janet did not.
In rapid succession, a miniature blizzard of accelerated particles ripped through the ships like grapeshot through cheesecloth. The ships didn’t explode, but wherever they had been perforated a dark purple goo oozed into the vacuum. It looked horribly like blood, as though the tiny fish-like ships had been alive instead of simple spacecraft. The momentary distraction could not keep her from barreling past the disabled ships and rushing to the defense of Clan Inoue.
It was as she had feared. The larger ships, enormous and bulbous brilliant green and yellow affairs, were fast approaching the damaged portion of forceshell which protected the habitation. The shell was being repaired rapidly, layer upon layer of it being replaced by the generators and dedicated staff on the shelf below, but the ships which had broken off from pursuit of Janet were slowing the progress of repair. The weapons too were having an effect, remaining after initial impact, continuing to chew upon the fibrous strands of energy as they attempted to form the intricate woven strength of the forceshell. With the presumably larger weapons of the definitely larger ships which were approaching fast, the shelf didn’t stand a chance.
Three enormous freighters rounded the tail end of the shelf, making slow but deliberate progress towards the damaged portion of shelf. Behind them, attached via the grav tractors normally used to maintain their position on the branch exit, were the three hulking behemoths of the Juggernauts. They’d make it in time, but only if Janet cleared the way.
She opened up a comm to the incoming transports, let out a whoop and a shout of gratitude, and dove towards the remaining seven attack ships.
There was no time for thought, no time for reason, and no time to hold back. Each missed projectile slammed into the forceshell, but the woven design of the shields functioned as intended, meant to hold off far larger projectiles with more force behind them. They did damage, but it was a pittance compared to even one shot of the globule-style weapon of the enemy. Janet was merciless, picking ships off at the edges, using the enormous bulk of shelf forceshell as a wall to her firing squad. She didn’t bother with finesse or skill; she simply unloaded the vast particulate canisters she carried in her ship. Thousands of projectiles were loosed in the span of a few tense minutes, and the unsuspecting victims had barely had time to register the threat, let alone fire upon Janet.
The transports arrived in short order. Unburdened by the harrying fire of the tiny fighters, they were able to position the juggernauts into a triangle style defense pattern. As the juggernauts latched onto the forceshell with their grav tractors, the shelf below added its own power to the enormous immobile gun platforms. The forceshell took shape around each Juggernaut, the mobile holes in them syncing up with the turrets so that they could fire without compromising the protection offered. The secondary shells formed, shimmering body armor coating each Juggernauts entire exposed exterior. They were ready, powered up, and locked in.
Janet still wore her fighters grin as the enemy opened fire.
Fin.
Shellfully,
The Unsheathed Quill
