In a Universe Unlike Our Own - Starring, The Quislet! - 06/01/17 10:59 AM
In a universe far from ours, where familiar surfaces conceal very different depths;
The Quislet banked sharply, narrowly avoiding a barrage of blaster-fire from its ground-bound target, the deadly member of the Fatal Five known as Mano. Within its alien hull, in the shielded command center, a half-dozen Teallan crew, no larger than terrestrial ants, huddled over their controls as the Captain barked out new orders. “Evasion pattern six, Pilot. Prepare the Animus Wave for offensive action against the target’s weapon, Engineering.” Her frilled ears pointed back, trembling slightly, and her graying rust-red fur lay flat against her skin, a vestigial response that let all know she was on the hunt, sleek and streamlined for sudden flight, or howling fight. “Wave ready,” proclaimed the Engineer, a mechanoid being who was the only member of the bridge crew not strapped into their seat, as its tank-like lower body gave it all the bracing it needed in the event of unexpected maneuvers. As usual, the Engineer skipped any words it deemed redundant, preferring an economy of speech, and even after all this time, the Captain rankled slightly that this included her hard-won rank. Still, its efficiency was its greatest strength, and she chose, once again, to ignore the oversight, so long as nobody else on the bridge chose to emulate this brusque disregard for her rank.
The Quislet’s computer analyzed Mano’s pattern of fire and determined that he was, however deadly in hand to hand, something of a novice with a blaster, firing almost at random, which made him, paradoxically, more dangerous and unpredictable than if he was better trained. The ship barrel-rolled at a nausea-inducing pitch, the Pilot all-but hanging from his controls as he fought to stabilize the ships course, and the Captain heard a distant scream and a sickening crunch as a crewperson lost hir grip and plummeted down a service shaft s/he’d just finished working in, and not yet had time to secure. “Casualty report,” she growled, dreading for long seconds what would follow. “Medical here, Assistant Engineer fell and broke three of her sixteen legs and cracked her meta-thorax in two places. S/he’ll be out of commission for several intervals, Captain.” The Captain was relieved, both to hear the injury was nothing serious, and, somewhat pettily, that Medical had remembered her rank.
She turned to Pilot, the most human-seeming of the bridge crew, if humans were the size of ants, hairless and had gray skin and solid black compound eyes, “Move closer, Pilot.” To his side, Engineer’s metal armature hovered over the activation sequence for the Animus Wave, and Capain said without pre-amble, “Fire when ready.”
The lights dimmed and there was a momentary sense of weightlessness as the power source for the Quislet discharged a brilliant streak of energy that flew into Mano’s blaster and caused it to twist in his hand. Before it could fire, the weapon dissolved, having succumbed to Mano’s matter-annihilating touch before the Animus Wave could turn it against him. The reddish streak of energy returned in a flash to the Quislet, and full power was restored not a moment too soon, as Mano lunged for the momentarily sluggish target. Captain swore that she could hear the rumble of the air outside of the ship being annihilated as the villain’s hand brushed past the Quislet’s hull with millimeters to spare.
’That’s [expletive deleted] it!,” the Captain snarled, pounding the arm of her chair in frustration. “Engineer, transfer control of the Wave to my station.” “Done,” came the terser-than-normal, even for Engineer, reply, seconds later. ‘He’s not happy,’ the Captain thought, but committed to her course of action, warning her crew almost as an afterthought as she linked neutrally with the weapon and engaged it, “Firing Wave.”
She was not aware of the ship losing power again, her consciousness riding the wave as it surged forth from the Quislet’s hull. She steered the Wave, a sensation not unlike surfing down a pyroclaustic flow on the back of a wild animal, driving it into the ground beneath Mano, and then animating the substance into a humanoid form not unlike her own, but even larger than the ridiculously oversized humanoid life of this universe. Mano destroyed one limb as she directed the Anima construct to attempt to grasp his wrists and render his deadly hands useless, and she instead slammed him back with the remaining limb. Mano tumbled with the force of the impact and she ran the construct forward to fall upon him before he recovered, savagely breaking one forearm, and then the other, while he wailed in agony. She formed a mouth on the construct and delivered her ultimatum, “Surrender, or I’ll break your legs, and then your life-support helmet.”
Even through the link to the Wave, she heard the intake of breath as crewfolk gasped in surprise at her threat. The fluting voices of Sensors, a caterpillar-like sapient stationed behind the Captains chair, broke into the link, each of her tube-like throats emitting a single syllable before capping and the next voice continuing, “Cap. Tain! Reg. U. La. Tions. Strict. Ly. For. Bid…”
The Captain, attention divided between the howling Mano, and the Anima construct, which was already beginning to destabilize and crumble, held up a hand behind her to signal Sensors to silence, unsheathing her ulnar blade by way of emphasis. The satisfying ‘pop’ ‘pop’ ‘pop’ of Sensors mouths all closing at once brought a tight smile to her face. Mano was now burbling that he surrendered, and was begging for medical attention, and not a moment too soon as the Animus construct shuddered and collapsed into ruin. Her consciousness rushed back into herr body as the Wave returned to the Quislet, and she shook her head to clear it before turning to Sensors. “It. Was. A. Bluff.” she said in clipped precise terms, for Sensors convenience.
“We are victorious,” Pilot said, choosing to redirect the conversation, as was his typically non-confrontational way. Tension seemed to melt out of the air, and the Captain quickly retracted her bone-spur blade into her forearm, making a not to disinfect it later, just in case. “We are indeed, Pilot. Well observed.” Pilot slowly barrel-rolled the ship in a victory loop, while Sensor whooped and booped and dooped in celebration, her cilia waving in the air while her body contracted and lengthened again in the way of her people.
Captain allowed them a moment of exuberance, before returning focus to the business at hand, “We have once again proven that the giants of this universe are no match for the finest ship and crew in the Teallan Exploratory Force. Let us see if any of our Legion allies need our help. Long live the Quislet!”
“Long live the Quislet!” her crew echoed, some in their own unique ways, as they returned to their duty.
The Quislet banked sharply, narrowly avoiding a barrage of blaster-fire from its ground-bound target, the deadly member of the Fatal Five known as Mano. Within its alien hull, in the shielded command center, a half-dozen Teallan crew, no larger than terrestrial ants, huddled over their controls as the Captain barked out new orders. “Evasion pattern six, Pilot. Prepare the Animus Wave for offensive action against the target’s weapon, Engineering.” Her frilled ears pointed back, trembling slightly, and her graying rust-red fur lay flat against her skin, a vestigial response that let all know she was on the hunt, sleek and streamlined for sudden flight, or howling fight. “Wave ready,” proclaimed the Engineer, a mechanoid being who was the only member of the bridge crew not strapped into their seat, as its tank-like lower body gave it all the bracing it needed in the event of unexpected maneuvers. As usual, the Engineer skipped any words it deemed redundant, preferring an economy of speech, and even after all this time, the Captain rankled slightly that this included her hard-won rank. Still, its efficiency was its greatest strength, and she chose, once again, to ignore the oversight, so long as nobody else on the bridge chose to emulate this brusque disregard for her rank.
The Quislet’s computer analyzed Mano’s pattern of fire and determined that he was, however deadly in hand to hand, something of a novice with a blaster, firing almost at random, which made him, paradoxically, more dangerous and unpredictable than if he was better trained. The ship barrel-rolled at a nausea-inducing pitch, the Pilot all-but hanging from his controls as he fought to stabilize the ships course, and the Captain heard a distant scream and a sickening crunch as a crewperson lost hir grip and plummeted down a service shaft s/he’d just finished working in, and not yet had time to secure. “Casualty report,” she growled, dreading for long seconds what would follow. “Medical here, Assistant Engineer fell and broke three of her sixteen legs and cracked her meta-thorax in two places. S/he’ll be out of commission for several intervals, Captain.” The Captain was relieved, both to hear the injury was nothing serious, and, somewhat pettily, that Medical had remembered her rank.
She turned to Pilot, the most human-seeming of the bridge crew, if humans were the size of ants, hairless and had gray skin and solid black compound eyes, “Move closer, Pilot.” To his side, Engineer’s metal armature hovered over the activation sequence for the Animus Wave, and Capain said without pre-amble, “Fire when ready.”
The lights dimmed and there was a momentary sense of weightlessness as the power source for the Quislet discharged a brilliant streak of energy that flew into Mano’s blaster and caused it to twist in his hand. Before it could fire, the weapon dissolved, having succumbed to Mano’s matter-annihilating touch before the Animus Wave could turn it against him. The reddish streak of energy returned in a flash to the Quislet, and full power was restored not a moment too soon, as Mano lunged for the momentarily sluggish target. Captain swore that she could hear the rumble of the air outside of the ship being annihilated as the villain’s hand brushed past the Quislet’s hull with millimeters to spare.
’That’s [expletive deleted] it!,” the Captain snarled, pounding the arm of her chair in frustration. “Engineer, transfer control of the Wave to my station.” “Done,” came the terser-than-normal, even for Engineer, reply, seconds later. ‘He’s not happy,’ the Captain thought, but committed to her course of action, warning her crew almost as an afterthought as she linked neutrally with the weapon and engaged it, “Firing Wave.”
She was not aware of the ship losing power again, her consciousness riding the wave as it surged forth from the Quislet’s hull. She steered the Wave, a sensation not unlike surfing down a pyroclaustic flow on the back of a wild animal, driving it into the ground beneath Mano, and then animating the substance into a humanoid form not unlike her own, but even larger than the ridiculously oversized humanoid life of this universe. Mano destroyed one limb as she directed the Anima construct to attempt to grasp his wrists and render his deadly hands useless, and she instead slammed him back with the remaining limb. Mano tumbled with the force of the impact and she ran the construct forward to fall upon him before he recovered, savagely breaking one forearm, and then the other, while he wailed in agony. She formed a mouth on the construct and delivered her ultimatum, “Surrender, or I’ll break your legs, and then your life-support helmet.”
Even through the link to the Wave, she heard the intake of breath as crewfolk gasped in surprise at her threat. The fluting voices of Sensors, a caterpillar-like sapient stationed behind the Captains chair, broke into the link, each of her tube-like throats emitting a single syllable before capping and the next voice continuing, “Cap. Tain! Reg. U. La. Tions. Strict. Ly. For. Bid…”
The Captain, attention divided between the howling Mano, and the Anima construct, which was already beginning to destabilize and crumble, held up a hand behind her to signal Sensors to silence, unsheathing her ulnar blade by way of emphasis. The satisfying ‘pop’ ‘pop’ ‘pop’ of Sensors mouths all closing at once brought a tight smile to her face. Mano was now burbling that he surrendered, and was begging for medical attention, and not a moment too soon as the Animus construct shuddered and collapsed into ruin. Her consciousness rushed back into herr body as the Wave returned to the Quislet, and she shook her head to clear it before turning to Sensors. “It. Was. A. Bluff.” she said in clipped precise terms, for Sensors convenience.
“We are victorious,” Pilot said, choosing to redirect the conversation, as was his typically non-confrontational way. Tension seemed to melt out of the air, and the Captain quickly retracted her bone-spur blade into her forearm, making a not to disinfect it later, just in case. “We are indeed, Pilot. Well observed.” Pilot slowly barrel-rolled the ship in a victory loop, while Sensor whooped and booped and dooped in celebration, her cilia waving in the air while her body contracted and lengthened again in the way of her people.
Captain allowed them a moment of exuberance, before returning focus to the business at hand, “We have once again proven that the giants of this universe are no match for the finest ship and crew in the Teallan Exploratory Force. Let us see if any of our Legion allies need our help. Long live the Quislet!”
“Long live the Quislet!” her crew echoed, some in their own unique ways, as they returned to their duty.