Prelude to Retribution

Chapter One: Hero's Welcome

Location: Amosia Galaxy

Planet: Norvela VII

Situation: Eons-long war between the Maynerian Dynasty and the Amosian Contingency

Battle: Maynerian Dynasty 34th Infantry Division assault on Amosian Contingency outpost in heavily contested space.

Support vessels: Maynerian Dynasty Battlecruisers Crimson Sun and Stryker

Date: 1998 years Beyond the Ascension

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The ground raced toward him like a pouncing predator in the night. He pulled the ejection seat handle, expecting to be tossed from the crumbling wreck of his devastated fighter. A dull clang echoed through the cockpit. Smoke rolled from the underside of his seat.

Maynerian Dynasty Lieutenant Colonel Tyaal Veriss cursed under his breath. He checked his altitude and grimaced. By the time he tried to climb out of the cockpit, the craft would be too close to the ground.

The crippled fighter shook violently. The damaged engines belted out a piercing wail. To add to his list of problems, his adversary's salvos had vaporized his cockpit parachutes and maneuvering thrusters, meaning there would be no ejecting the cockpit from the fuselage. He adjusted the fighter's speed, realizing he would have to settle for a crash landing.

Just had to be a hero, didn't you, Tyaal? He silently scolded himself.

In conjunction with throttle control, he slightly leveled off the fighter's dive and slowed the craft. He rolled to the left and aimed the doomed fighter towards the last position of a company of Maynerian Dynasty infantry.

He smiled beneath his helmet, dreaming of the celebration hosted by the troopers saved from impending death by his strafing runs. The fighter shuddered, bringing him out of his thoughts.

Veriss glided the craft lower. He soared through the smoke of the burning wreckage from the battle and continued to work the controls. The reddish clay ground came into view. The fighter slowed to just above stall speed.

He guided the mortally wounded craft towards a long patch of sand in the distance. He adjusted his angle of attack. Sweat poured down his face. The sand patch grew larger in the fighter's viewport. His heart pounded in his chest in rhythmic beats, resounding like a passionately played drum.

Just a little closer. He told himself silently. Almost home–

A long shadow raced into view. Veriss gasped and pressed the throttle forward to gain the power to soar over the object. The dying engines emitted a final screech like a raptor diving on its prey before falling silent. The lower edges of the fighter's wings struck the rock outcropping. The craft lurched violently to the left and dug into the red sand.

The ship rolled like a ball tossed from a giant hand. Inside, Veriss rocked in his pilot seat upon each pounding impact. He released the controls and braced himself. The left wing ripped itself from the fuselage, sending the rest of the ship on a long slide across the sandy plain. The wreckage slammed into another rock formation.

The viewport erupted in a shower of fragments, pelting Veriss like a salvo fired from a scattergun. He convulsed and spewed a stream of blood-laced vomit from his mouth. His body ached horribly as if a horde of angry beasts had stomped on him.

He released his restraints and slowly crawled towards the cockpit hatch. He ripped his helmet off and tossed it aside. A spasm of pain rippled through his wounded body. His breaths came in labored heaves. He winced beneath the horrific anguish of his external and internal injuries. He groaned while reaching for the protective cover of the hatch emergency explosive bolts. He yanked the cover away and placed his fingers into the slots. Closing his eyes, he pressed the buttons.