Page 10 of Scorching the Alien Empire
Curious, I spy two more tunnels, the stream of ships buzzing out of their entrances like wasps from a broken nest. A couple dozen swarm around our vessel, unloading their murderous payload against our azure shield. Now a constant, rhythmic attack, each assault sends tremors throughout the entire ship. But they’re just a nuisance—like a mere traffic ticket compared to the foreclosure that is the moon’s terrifying green beams.
I can almostfeelthose emerald cannons charging, their menace crawling across my skin. My grip on Dracoth tightens asa chill rushes up my spine. The hum of energy builds, and right on cue, the moon’s cannons fire. Blinding green blasts smash into our shields, erupting into dazzling teal flares that fill the viewport with light. I shield my eyes, the impact reverberating through the ship like a not-so-fun amusement ride.
“Shields at fifty-five percent, War Chieftain,” Keth states, his detachment, making me jealous of his robotic calm.
“Are we winning, Dracoth?” I ask, my voice trembling, the words spilling out more as a plea than a question.
My Mr. Frowny Face finally turns, his crimson eyes locking onto mine. His expression, carved in stone as always, gives nothing away.
“Crush your useless fears,” he says, placing his massive hand over the sacred brand scorched into my chest and neck.
“You are the War Chieftainess,myWar Chieftainess,” he declares, his eyes blazing like molten coals, igniting a fire within me. It spreads from his hand into my chest, sweeping through my entire body like a wildfire, consuming fear, kindling fury.
Everything snaps into crystal-clear focus. Every contour of my Dracoth’s face becomes vivid, every hue in his misty red-silver eyes shimmering like molten metal. Through our bond, I sense our flames roaring together—a beautiful dance that should never end. A smile spreads across my face as I nod, a surge of confidence swelling in my chest.
The battle outside rages on, but what once felt incomprehensible and overwhelming now seems almost... slow. Our ship shudders, firing sizzling blue bolts that streak through the void like falling stars. Each impact sends ripples of destruction across the moon’s surface. My grin widens as another metal tunnel crumbles, molten rock and slag collapsing into a smoldering heap, crushing two enemy ships trying to escape.
Then my attention snaps to the annoying moon’s cannons, sensing them charging up for another attack. The sight of them makes my jaw tighten with hatred.
How fucking infuriating they are!
My eyes trace the trajectory of their beams. I know their beams will converge on the forward left side of our ship. My fingers twitch, and without thinking, I raise my hands. Sacred barriers flicker into existence—my will made manifest—glimmering like crystalline glass, refracting the bursts of vibrant explosions in the void.
The cannons fire.
Blinding green beams lance toward us, converging with relentless force. I grit my teeth, bracing for the impact. It hits my shields like a blow to the gut, almost ripping the air from my lungs and forcing me to my knees.
Dracoth’s hand clamps down on my shoulder, grounding me. His eyes stay fixed on the chaos outside, unwavering, his presence an anchor amidst the storm.
Time slows, each moment stretching like falling snowflakes. My barrier trembles, glowing a fierce, searing green under the barrage. The weight presses down on my mind—intense, unyielding, like Dracoth’s merciless strength in the missionary position.
The fury burns hot in my veins, hating the stupid moon and its stupid green beams. A scream tears from my throat as I project more rage, fortifying my barrier with sheer stubborn will, unique to me alone.
And then—silence.
The green beams wink out, and my shimmering barrier stands alone, defiant and intact. My scream morphs into manic laughter, echoing through the bridge. “I did it! I stopped it!”
Dracoth’s gaze turns to me, his eyes radiating pride. Through our bond, his admiration washes over me, the greatest feelingin the universe. “You grow strong, War Chieftainess,” he growls, his voice deep.
I flash him a wide, triumphant grin. “Well, Iampretty awesome. That’sprettyandawesome, by the way,” I quip with a nonchalant shrug, trying to ignore the constant rumbling and thudding noises.
Keth’s voice interrupts the moment, cold and precise. “The final docking hatch has been destroyed, War Chieftain.”
“Bring us about, back to the Shorthairs.” Dracoth turns back to the viewport, his eyes taking in the colorful flashes streaming from the maelstrom of chaos outside. “Target their cannons on our withdrawal.”
I blink, stunned. “Withdrawal?” The words feel like a slap from the wet mutant turtle monster. “But we’rekicking their asses!” I exclaim, grabbing his arm. It’s like trying to shake a skyscraper.
The ship lurches and creaks as Keth rushes to obey Dracoth’s orders, the blinding white surface of the moon sliding out of sight. Yet the smaller vessels continue to swarm, strafing our shields with bullets, rockets, and piercing green beams. I sigh in frustration, the constant vibration and racket grating on my nerves like nail extensions on glass.
“I lure them to their deaths,” Dracoth promises, somewhat soothing my irritation.
“Shields at forty-two percent. Forty-sixWhores’ Orphansships in pursuit, War Chieftain,” Keth reports—as if the latter weren’t bloody obvious! The annoying pricks keep circling us like flies swarming the stinkiest pile of poop imaginable.
“Impressive, young Dracoth. Very impressive,” Ignixis rasps, his tone laced with amusement. “You prevented their fleet from assembling, trapping them inside the moon. Most cunning. There may be hope for us yet.” His cackling fills the bridge.
“Don’t celebrate yet,” I mutter, amazed that he can so easily overlook the fact that we’restill being shot at!
I shake my head, raising my hand to summon another round of barriers. My shimmering sacred shields spring into existence, intercepting the chaotic fire from the darting swarm of ships. I smirk as their pathetic attacks fizzle harmlessly against my defenses. Only the sporadic, more powerful blasts from the moon’s white cannons require my full focus. After a while, I settle into a steady rhythm—it’s kind of fun, like playing an oversized game of Whack-a-Mole.
