The first time I ever got shot, I was drinking sangria. I didn't even realize what was going on, initially. One minute, there was only the rocking of the waves, some islands barely visible over the horizont, the chilled drink with bits of fruit floating inside, and plenty of sun. I think I'd dozed off, because the next I knew, something was pinging off the hull, and the roar of an incoming engine was being interrupted by sharp cracks.
Then the glass jug sitting beside me shattered, and I finally connected with what was happening.
Luckily, the hind-brain took over then, because if I'd stopped to think I likely wouldn't have lived to see another day. Or night, for that matter.
I still nearly broke my neck in diving into the cabin, tumbling painfully down, nearly cracking my head against the table sitting in the middle of it ... I had enough presence of mind to yank a safety interlock from its wall-socket once the jarring *thud* of impact was dealt with.
"Trigon! Lock it! We're under fire!"
The main display flickered to life, Four-eyes' haughty expression there in full Technicolor.
Uncertainty closed and locked its hatches a moment later, even as footfalls sounded from above.
Somehow, I stayed on top of things. Most notably, myself. I think it was the sense of surreality that did it.
I don't think that a person can ever really convince themselves they aren't immortal without being shown definite proof. Even then, you don't necessarily take it to heart. It happened to me a few years back, but I'd shelved it in the past ... well, here was a reminder, courtesy of Reality.
She can be a royal bitch, can't she?
"Your ineptitude knows no bounds, it seems, wretch. You can't be left alone for even a moment without getting involved in some sort of collosal mess up."
Ironically enough, it was Trigon's summary that planted me firmly back in the there and then again.
It was one of the few times in my life that I'd felt claustrophobic, even as the display shifted to a mast-top camera view of several people of varying ethnicity, all armed, crawled over the top of the deck and tried to get in.
A few feet of to port, a ratty looking cutter was rocking alongside the Uncertainty, an middle-aged Chinese guy screaming his lungs out via megaphone.
I, of course, heard nothing. As little as I'd trusted the goop, it was great isolation when it did work. That and security seals on the hatches would keep pretty much anything short of ... well, I didn't really know short of _what_. I suspected shaped charges would be the limit for the hull, though even that might not be enough. With the structural integrity field?
And once I was over being scared shitless, I found myself being utterly and totally furious.
I hadn't even realized that I was punching the activation panel when the Handwavium Solid in its cradle underneath the table flared to life.
The Uncertainty shuddered, unsettling my unwanted guests, as the Drive Field snapped on and was reconfigured on the fly. The mast folded down into horizontal position, throwing one of them into the water, and then we accelerated.
Straight up.
Trigon was shouting something that sounded like encouragements, and I was too far gone to care.
The ship's Drive Field has two configurations, one of them being the energy sails. Two of those, one projected via emitters along the mast, the other via the keel, to be exact.
Right then, only the mast's emitters were flaring, full power being directed through them to hop the ship upwards for a moment at something between twenty and thirty G.
Then it stopped, ten to fifteen meters above the surface, and splashed back down.
The deck was clear.
Trigon was shouting what sounded like encouragments.
Next thing I knew, we were blowing through the cutter's bow, splintering wood and bending steel as the Uncertainty leapt forward on her secondary sail alone, skimming the waves for a moment before cutting to Speed Drive and wheeling about.
Wreckage. Wreckage and bodies.
"Not bad. For a human. Now finish them off! Can you taste it? The raw, unchecked TERROR?! It's exquisite, isn't it?"
"Trigon," I said, not taking my eyes off the display. "Shut up. And plot me a course for Tasmania."
There were still people alive down there, likely injured and far away from land.
Still kicking when we left the unfortunate patch of ocean behind us.
Back then, I felt no remorse about leaving them there.
I never would.
tbc
When tact is required, use brute force. When force is required, use greater force.
When the greatest force is required, use your head. Surprise is everything. - The Book of Cataclysm