And to Dust We Shall Return.

set lazers to fun

Ten minutes later, and Nim found herself crouching in yet another cramped ventilation shaft, peering through yet another piece of grating. The room outside wasn’t much more appealing. It was narrow and dark, and filled with bundles of cables, tangled together like strange roots from the roof of a cave. the walls, and by the looks of things a great deal of the floor as well, were covered in ranks upon ranks of cylinders, each encased in its own little slot and pulsing red.

‘Where the blazes are we?’ she asked grumpily. ‘This doesn’t look like engineering.’

‘I think this is the ships computer core.’ said clementine, peering out of the grating at the ranks of blinking lights. ‘Or should that be cores?’

Nim ran a hand through her fur. The static in the air had given her a decidedly porcupine-esque appearance. ‘Well whatever it is I don’t like it.’ 

As they watched, a shadow stretched its way across the floor, closely followed by the hulking form of Sjors. ‘Hurry up!’ he grunted, angrily thumping the side of a small box that had been duct taped to the wall. ‘Stupid dodgy software. Knew I shoulda known better than trust that coward.’ 

Hastily, Nim took out her penknife and began levering the air vent away from the wall. 

‘What are you doing?’ Hissed clementine. 

‘What does it look like?’ Nim hissed back in irritation. ‘I’m getting out of here so I can disable that thing.’

Clementine didn’t appear too happy about this, as she tugged on Nim’s sleeve to pull her back. 
‘But he’s three times your size, and probably armed. Shouldn’t we...call for back up or something?’

Nim yanked her arm away. ‘There’s no time!  Now either help me get this thing off or shut up.’

Clementine gave Nim one last concerned look, and with an inhuman burst of strength, pulled the vent off the wall, screws and all. 
It was the work of the moment for Nim to jump down from the gap, but careful as her union training taught her to be, metal floors aren’t exactly prized for their stealth capabilities, and so she landed with an audible clang. 

Sjors whipped around, to find the diminutive form of Nim pointing a rifle at him. ‘Hold-eheeehe HOLd it right there!’ She said, pausing to cough up some of the dust from the vents ‘now...Sjors, maybe you’d like to tell me what you’re doing in here?’ 

‘I could ask you the same thing commander.’ Said Sjors, the rusty chainsaw of his voice was dipped in honey. ‘What is that thing doing out of its cell?’ He nodded to the space behind Nim, where clementine had just drifted out of the vent.

Nim rolled her eyes. For once, this was nothing to do with clementine.
‘She is a person, Sjors. Now cut the crud and tell me what’s going on.’ 

‘What’s going on?’ He said, in the low and threatening rumble of a lawnmower approaching an earthworm. What’s going on pig face, is that the union has been foolish. Sticking your noses in where they aren’t wanted.’ 

‘But you invited us idiot! You were the ones who came to us begging for stale bread and promises.’

‘Begging is right.’ Sjors snorted. ‘Those, mewling runts! Running for help like frightened hatchlings. How pathetic.’

‘Mewling runts?’ said Nim. ‘Wait? You mean the Gnar counsel?’

‘Yes.’ said Sjors. ‘They are fools commander! Thinking they can further our empire with words. The universe is a tough place. If you are to survive, you must TAKE what you want. Not wait until some decorated apes decide to give it to you.’

 ‘You’re not a delegate at ALL are you?’ said Nim. ‘It was you who attacked the colony on Keppler 4!

‘Well done commander.’ sneered Sjors. ‘You have a sharp mind.’ In the blink of an eye he bounded across the space between them. And a hand, half the size of Nim’s entire body, wrapped itself around her waist. ‘Just not sharp enough!’ He said, wrenching the rifle from her grip. 
…

‘How are they holding up?’ Asked the captain.

Victor and mason where both slumped in the corner next to the helm. rubber caps studded with electrodes binding them to the machine, and to each other. 

One of the doctors piscine eyes swiveled to face her, while the other continued to monitor their vital signs ‘connection is holding.’ he replied.  

‘And the ion cannon?’

‘The rate of drain has decreased another 30 percent.’ The betoroids chattered over the comm.
‘But the Overall charge is now at 70 percent capacity’

‘At least it’s slowing down.’ The captain sighed. ‘But it’s only buying time.’ 
She switched to Nim’s channel.

‘Commander, I don’t know what you’re doing, but you need to stop her n-‘
The captain tapped the comm and frowned, as the signal was abruptly cut off. 

‘Commander?’

…
As the wayward ant, so easily squashed by the rolled up newspaper of inequality knows all too well. Small things are easily destroyed by bigger things. It is a fundamental law of nature. Or at least, it’s supposed to be a law of nature. But in practice, it’s more like a recommended guideline, one that most species are quite happy to ignore. For the simple but often overlooked reason that the galactic standard measure of rage, evenly distributed across the heft of an elephant, or a Denobulan rhino, or the infamous seven mile Ghela monster of klatch, is spread so thin that it can’t really do much harm. But the same amount, compressed into the miniature assemblage of a jack Russel, or a Shetland pony, or a stars forbid, a telleran. Has all the explosive energy of a mint dropped into a bottle of coca cola. 

Alas Sjors, who was unusual in that he had been allotted far more than his fair share of rage even for his sizable bulk. Was unaware of this. Until he found four chisel teeth, sharpened to deadly perfection on the grindstones of fibrous vegetation, were sinking deeply into his left bicep. He yelped pitifully and stumbled backwards, Dropping Nim like a lit grenade.

‘WHY YOU LITTLE-!’ He yelled, aiming her rifle squarely at the space between her eyes. 

…
Half an hour. They had managed to hold it of for half an hour. But as the counter on the captain’s console slid to 98 percent, she realized she may have to face the truth.
The extra time, however hard won, may not have been enough.

‘Unplug them.’ She said to the doctor. He was bent low over the two slumped figures. They were both conscious, but their glassy eyes were darting about in a frenzied twitching motion. Like someone trying to solve a crossword via telekinesis. 

‘No captain!’ Came masons voice. ‘Though it sounded weak and far away.’ There’s still time.

‘KeEEp Go1ng. Mas0n HEples’ added victor, with some difficulty.

The captain gave him a pat on the shoulder. Though she wasn’t sure he could feel it, it seemed like the right thing to do. ‘I know he has. You both have.’
She gave the doctor a wordless nod. And he began unstrapping the electrodes. 

100 percent.

The entire ship heaved, as the sum total of its energy was compressed and funneled into a single point. A point that burned hot enough to jumpstart a million suns and still have enough left over for a nice barbeque afterwards.
It was a shame then, that ion cannons were not so good at socializing.
The captain tried to stand tall. She tried, in what she thought would be her last few moments, to think noble thoughts. To be a reassuring presence to the crew. To be the captain she had always trained to be. But all she could manage to say, as a beam of light burst from the cannon was.

‘OH FU-‘