Daughter of Nox

Chapter One: A Close Encounter

Freya Airm, Ascending First Marshall of Nox, heir to Father's Seat, was on the brink of exploding. Port thrusters were down, main weapons flickered in and out of life, and the steady shriek from the training pod's simulated warning system was really beginning to grate on her nerves.

Other than that she was fine.

Her fingers danced over the control panel as she tried to convince the computer that no, the ship wasn't going to blow up. And no, she didn't want to eject. The computer continued to insist that it was, and that she should. The whole thing was very frustrating.

"Slag the stars," she growled at the warning klaxon through clenched teeth, "will you please just shut up?"

Arthuretta's static-tinged chuckle buzzed over the intercom. "Are you talking to yourself again?"

"No, Etta, I am not talking to myself." Freya imagined the control board was the computer's face and punched it. "I'm talking to this slagging ship that won't slagging work."

"In the ship's defense, I did just shoot it," Etta said. "And getting shot does, you know, tend to cause problems."

"That was barely more than a graze, and it was lucky," Freya said. "Besides, can we say for certain that it was your shooting me that caused this problem? For all we know, the ground crew didn't do good enough maintenance of my ship before we took off."

"Simulated ships don't have ground crews."

"They could have simulated ground crews, couldn't they? With little simulated hangars, and simulated tools."

The sim bucked beneath her as if to throw in a different opinion.

"Maybe one of them can send your dad a simulated letter of condolences for when I blow you out of the sky?" Etta's voice practically dripped with glee. "Because I'm going to be honest, Fray. You're looking a little haggard right now."

"Says you," Freya said with another punch to the control board. "I was just getting lined up to finish you off."

"Funny, because I was about to tell you the same thing."

"Oh yeah?" Punch, punch punch. "How do you figure?"

"Well, there's the smoke," Etta said. "Which, I don't know if you realize this, is typically something you don't want coming out of your engines."

"Are my engines smoking?" Freya chanced a glance over her shoulder and saw a heavy black cloud gushing from the engine housing. "I hadn't noticed."

"Lots of smoke, and–on, wait–" Etta cut off for a moment. "Now there's a fire in your exhaust port." Etta laughed. "You are literally on fire right now."

Freya's ship lurched again.

"Stupid, traitorous sim ship." She glared at the controls. "You're supposed to be on my side."

"The ship probably isn't working because you hurt its simulated feelings," Etta said. "Try apologizing, maybe?"

"I'll get back to you on that," Freya said and switched off the comm.

Freya shot another look over her shoulder and let out a curse. More greasy smoke trailed the port engines like blood in open water. A jolt of power might kick them back to life, but with Etta dogging her every move, Freya couldn't spare power from shields.

She groaned as she considered her options. With only one engine there wasn't much chance of slipping behind Etta without her noticing. And a head-on attack? Get real. No, she had to think of something, and quick.