Hier ein Beitrag den ich vor vielen Jahren für Warprift, das BFG Fanzine verfasst habe. Ist deshalb in Englisch. Sollte genug Resonanz erfolgen, kann ich es ja übersetzen, obwohl da natürlich viel Wortwitz verloren geht.
Ich präsentiere also: Target Priority - Kapitel 1
Target Priority
... and it was Admiral Townsends brilliant maneuver at Syracuse, a result of his new, innovative tactics, that finally drove this scourge of the stars from the Styrgis Sector…
from: A History of the Styrgis Sector – Great Naval Battles
19:00 TST, 116/076M41
Imperial Class Battleship Blinding Light
Battlegroup Styrgis, Taskforce Sword
In transit
He reached the sanctuary just before his appointment. Most of the glow globes in this sector of the flight decks had worn out, leaving him to the warm, smelly darkness that is the hallmark of every great warship. The bottom of the old freight elevator had been the sanctuary for generations of flight crews and mechanics – one of the secret places where they could come to chat, gossip – and smoke.
In the half darkness of the old elevator shaft the large man rummaged through the pockets of his flight suit, finally extracting a package of loh-sticks from his right elbow pocket. He struck a match and lit the stick – and the glow of the stick lit the face of the man, as he inhaled deeply – finally able to satisfy his addiction. Captain Raymond McAlister of the 355th. Bomber Squadron did not come here often, as his duties did not allow it, but when he could find the time he made the effort. The sanctuary had been the secret hiding place for generations of addicts on an otherwise smoke free ship – thanks to the courtesy of the Departmento Medicae – and McAlister had to smile. He flipped the black, skull marked loh packet over to read the Departmento Medicae warning label – Smoking Kills! Right, snorted the old pilot, when ever did a member of an imperial bomber crew die of lung cancer? Flack, yes, interceptors - definitely, or one day the cold vacuum of space, but lung cancer? Not likely.
McAlister took another deep breath and leaned his back against the old elevator wall – marked with a giant No Smoking sign – and mused about life and death in the Imperial Navy. As far as he was concerned, smoking was as safe a pastime as any other. Generations of other addicts must have felt likewise – the floor was covered ankle deep in loh-butts. As there was nothing here with which to extinguish a glowing butt, some joker from the Departmento Munitiorum hat planted a 5k-ton plasma bomb right in the middle of the elevator shaft – and it was black from scorch marks. According to legend, the bomb was a live one and the detonator had never been defused. Obviously, no one had ever tried his luck – the fuse at the tip of the bomb was as shiny and bright as on the day it was installed.
The hard staccato of polished boots on metal rigging swept McAlister out of his thoughts – someone approached. Through the half light of the few remaining glow globes a figure in the green tress of the Tactica Imperialis made his way to the hidden room. The figure suddenly stepped into the light – and McAlister froze. Then he slowly took one last breath from his stick and extinguished it against the bomb, before the butt joined the other millions on the floor. His bear hug nearly crushed the life from the interloper.
“By the Emperor – is it really you Mike?”
The other man managed to get back on his feet and coughed a greeting. “Yes its me. By the Emperor Raymond – its been a long time.”
“I never thought you would find this place…”
The tactician had to grin. “Well, I did have to ask a couple of times – and show off a pack of lohs to convince the guys that I am not with the Commissariat!”
McAlister burst into laughter and hugged his old buddy again.
“Twenty six years since we left the academy – and look what’s become of us. Look at you – a senior tactician and oh…” McAlister traced one finger along the gold tresses of his childhood friends’ uniform “…you’ve been promoted again. I am sorry Commodore if I was a bit disrespectful.”
Michael Burns had to smile “Yes – but rank or no rank I am only a staff officer – but you – you are a legend among the pilots of the fleet”.
McAlister shrugged. “I’m just still alive, and that alone makes me something special. I’ve cheated the statistics for so long that it must have forgotten me – nearly 500 sorties and only a couple of scratches. But let’s not talk about me – how did you transfer aboard?”
Burns dusted off his uniform. “I am now a member of Admiral Townsends personal staff. I transferred on board with him as he came here to take command of the task force two weeks ago.”
“Yes. And we have been doing warp jumps ever since. Tell me – I know something is up. What is the old geezer after?”
Burns locked his arms and gave his friend a critical look. “Are you cleared for Magenta level Information?”
McAlister snorted. “Pah. You know damn well I am not. What pilot would be?”
Burns sighted. “Oh well, you’ll be briefed in a couple of hours anyways.” Fire caught the tacticians eyes and he fixated his old buddy. “We found her. Damn all the primachs but we finally located her. – with lot’s of luck, too.”
“Found who?”
Burns could no longer control himself. “The Deliverance, damn it!! That Chaos Imbecile that has plagued this sector for the past two centuries! That Emperor forsaken bitch that slipped the gauntlet at Hannover! That loathsome renegade that destroyed Admiral Palins Flagship at New Syrtis! But mark my words – we have got her now;” Burns waved his finger at his friends nose, “we have got her this time. Absolute priority target!!”
“The Deliverance, huh? Heard about her. One tough mother to crack.”
Burns regained his composure. “You are right - many have tried and all have failed. But Admiral Townsend had developed some innovative tactics that will allow us to get a shot at her.”
“They say she is as big as a Hulk – and just as mean, too.”
“Don’t put your faith into the mumblings of the rankings – we have analyzed loads of data for months on end – but what am I telling you – the admiral will make it clear in your next briefing.”
McAlister was not convinced. Deep in thought he traced a finger along the fuse of the plasma bomb. “They say she has loads of interceptors and a defensive fire that rivals a space station – we must be nuts if we are to make a standard run.”
“Well, that is exactly the point. But I am getting ahead of myself. Wait and all will be explained to you, o.k.?”
Raymond gave his friend a critical look. "This is not like you. Since when have you become such a hard prick?" Michaels demeanor was unmoved.
"I grew up. Maybe a bit late, but I grew up non the less. We are no longer on the farm, Raymond. This is the Emperors Navy. We belong to him – heart, body and soul. You should do well no to forget that."
Bitterness crept into Raymonds voice. "As if I could. So, in the Emperors Name, let's do his holy work."
"Amen."