N V Henderson
Artist | Hobbyist | Varied
The bulkhead shook with the force of another impact. This one was different; the sound of it resonated longer through the corridors and was punctuated by the unmistakable sound of metal on metal.
"Boarding party." He considered to himself.
Running past a mid ship viewport, his suspicions were confirmed as he spied a merc interceptor ship saddled to his starboard bow. "That was faster than expected."
The boarding troops found him calmly waiting for them hold up in the Navigation Room. As they flooded the room taking up guarded positions around him, his gaze settled on the squad leader stepping forward. He could tell by the gate of the merc's walk that this man was preparing a lecture.
He often elicited this type of poll-pitting from these soldier types, but could never figure why they hadn't learned from this common mistake. It would be reasonable to expect that maybe somewhere, at some point, some one would have compared their notes from the other dozen times grandstanding had allowed him to slip their grasp. Yet no; Generic Merc Officer #257 runs head long into folly...
"You f☺cked up in the wrong system this time Chronogrifter. We have interceptors locked on to your position from here clear to the Constellation of Riven. We're gonna..."
An automated voice rang out over the P.A. system, cutting the merc's words short, "Hawking's Telemetry has been achieved and temporal counter measures have been initiated."
With that the ships inertia shifted with the type of feeling you get when you close your eye just as the elevator you're riding comes to a sudden stop. A sudden rush of cabin pressure meeting the harsh vacuum of space was the last sensation besides anguished suffocation the mercs felt as the Chronogrifter's ship warped from the very space surrounding them.
"Thank you for your time", he remarked, watching the scene in retrospect.