40k/ME Chapter 1, Pt. 2 Draft

Shosannah rocketed through the asteroid field, her Razorwing fighter humming with speed and unnatural grace. Frustration roiled beneath her pale-pink skin, and her wychsuit chafed - it was not designed to cover her entirely, but the realities of void combat demanded total coverage in the event of a hull breach.

She longed to board one of the mon’kiegh craft herself, let her hydra gauntlets fly and butcher the inhabitants in a torrent of blood and seething yellow crystal. Instead, her Captain demanded the ships destroyed from without.

It was so easy, she might as well have been asleep.

“Ten seconds until visual contact,” her dispatcher chirped though the comm-crystal. An interminably staid craftworlder by the name of T’llach. “Sound off.”

“Wraith-One, ready,” Shosannah hissed. Her fingers rapped against the controls, her tongue ran over purple-painted lips. Soon. Ever so soon. She spun past an asteroid, her fighter obeying every whim.

“Wraith-Two, ready.”

“Wraith-Three, standing by.”

“Wraith-Four, engaged.”

A grin spread across Shosannah’s face - she heard the anticipation in their voices, felt a hint of battle-lust as the words met her mind. Corsairs could be intolerable asses, but anything was better than the Cult.

Than Commorragh.

“Mon’keigh ships in sight,” T’llach said. “Weapons free. Avoid striking the bait, if possible. They are an adequate distraction.”

Tapping a few buttons, Shosannah disengaged the safeties that held her twin-linked lances and splinter cannons in check. Though she had hardly expected an Inquisitorial ship to finally draw out the mon’keigh that had been encroaching on their territory, it mattered little - the Y’sdrammor and its attendant craft would vanish long before the mon’keigh could look into their mysterious ‘allies’.

Then their would be a time of plenty once more.

A thousand kilometers ahead of her, a battle raged. Three cruisers dripping with the trappings of the Dark Gods had ambushed an Inquisitorial craft, hammering it with a relentless barrage of macrocannon blasts. Every ship bore some form of damage, venting atmosphere or spitting out bodies and wreckage.

“This is Wraith-One,” Shosannah said. “Beginning strafing run. Fall in.”

“Aye!” Came three simultaneous responses.

She slammed her Razorwing into full speed, relishing the gravity that flattened her against her seat. Thumbing her control sticks, she unleashed her dark lances, filling the void with bursts of black nothingness.

For half a triumphant heartbeat, she saw them impact against the hulls of her foe, ripping colossal holes in its flank by ripping them free of reality. Then the return fire began. Point defense weapons erupted from the mon’keigh ships, bathing the asteroid field in streams of tracers and shells.

“Scatter!” She cried, pulling her Razorwing into a steep climb. She weaved and danced through the incoming fire, her fighter obeying the slightest touch. Spinning, she unleashed her splinter cannons into the wounds she had wrought with her lances.

Sparks spewed from the ship, raking it with needling death. Not too effective, sure, but she couldn’t resist the temptation. She swept up beside one of the cruisers, running along their hull. At this range, their anti-air turrets were too bulky and slow to lead her properly.

“Enemy fighters, by the Inquisition ship.” T’llach said. Red runes highlighted the incoming fighters. Five of them, long and lumbering. They spilled out of one of the cruisers, each one marked by a pathetic prayer to the Dark Gods.

Shosannah laughed. Perhaps there would be some fun to be had today after all. The first fighter had no chance - she unleashed a blast from her lances, swallowing her target in nothingness. Roaring through the wreckage, she plummeted into a sweeping dive towards the Inquisition ship.

“One down,” Shosannah called through the gravity crushing her chest. “Break off and engage. Keep an eye on those turrets.”

“Copy Wraith-One,” her squadron replied. That was one of the perks of being a Corsair, Shosannah mused. Out in the cold dark black, only your ability mattered. Here, the whims of a kabal were worth as much as slave’s.

Return fire swept across her prow, missing her by inches. Yanking on her controls, she soared upwards, just below the enemy squadron. Her lances barked, striking one and engulfing it. Today was not their day.

“Wraith-Four, taking fire!” The other craft had peeled off to chase the rest of her squadron.

Shosannah cursed their impotence - the cruisers lay mostly defenseless, perfect, willing targets, yet she could not pursue her prey.

“Wraith-One, assisting,” she spat. T’llach would have her head if she lost more than a single craft on today’s raid.

Swinging around, she cut her main thrusters and tapped the port burners. Her Razorwing spun, ready to destroy the enemy craft - her momentum would carry her along their flight path, allowing her to rake the entire enemy squadron.

In the maelstrom of death that filled the void between the vessels, she readied herself for the kill.

“Bring him around Wraith-Four,” Shosannah said. “A hundred kilometers to the Inquisitor’s starboard.” A tracer from the Imperial point defense cannons whickered past her cockpit. “Watch it!” She cried to no one.

“Copying, Wraith-One, I-” the rest of the pilot’s words were lost, and a small explosion blossomed in the void before it was immediately extinguished.

Shosannah cursed - she was a moment too late. Firing her lances, she spun up her thrusters once more, sprinting towards the dogfight.

“Wraith-One, I require assistance,” Wraith-Two called. “I have lost comms with Three, and the last two mon’keigh are on my tail.”

“Copy,” Shosannah growled. She was a wych, not some damned babysitter. Why can’t these fools take care of themselves? At least she could add another two to her tally. She grinned. All a matter of perspective, really. “Bring them towards the Imperials. I shall cut them down from above.”

Two blips of the comm-crystal signaled his acknowledgement. Looping around, she prepared to execute another dive, this one nearly scraping against the Imperial’s hull. So far, she hadn’t been directly targeted by the Inquisitor’s ship- perhaps mon’keigh could make intelligent decisions, when pressed.

“Passing under it in three seconds,” Wraith-Two cried. Runic readouts on Shosannah’s HUD showed he had suffered some damage.

“Copy Wraith-Two,” She said, beginning her plunge. This close to the hull, she feel its gravitational pull, and one errant twitch would send her careening into a fiery death. More importantly, the mon’keigh would never see her coming. She wet her lips.

“Wraith-One,” T’llach said, “I am detecting a disturbance in the Imperial warp-core, I suggest moving.”

Wraith-Two’s fighter soared past  below her - any second, and the mon’keigh would be next. Her thumb caressed her lance’s firing button.

“Shosannah!” T’llach cried. “There’s a Warp-Energy build-up, climbing fast! Get out of there!”

The mon’keigh fighters screamed past, and Shosannah blew them apart, all weapons blaring. A heartbeat too late to avoid the Imperials’ jump. She laughed, and then she was laughter, felt it surround her and fill her while She-Who-Thirsts crushed her chest, heard Her screaming, screaming, screaming.

Oh how she screamed.