Deathstalker 02 - Deathstalker Rebellion

first," said Silence. "I don't like playing our main hand this early. But needs must prevail when the devil drives. Gunnery Officer, target the alien ship. Hit it till its shields go down and we start inflicting actual damage, and then break off and stand by for new orders."
    The Dauntless's disrupter cannon opened fire in sequence, one after another, maintaining a constant barrage of destructive power. Strange energy fields suddenly flared into being around the alien ship, shimmering fiercely. The disrupter cannon pounded away at them, but they held firm. Within the Dauntless, the strange crackling energy spread slowly but inexorably from one section to the next, infiltrating and subverting essential systems as it went. Life support was going down sector by sector. Crew members died at their posts, or running for their lives.
    A workstation on the bridge exploded suddenly, throwing its operator lifeless to the floor, his clothes and hair burning fiercely. Strange energies danced on the bridge air like heat lightning. Silence yelled for people to back away from the blazing workstation, but for everyone else to hold their posts. Fires licked along one wall, hot and blazing.
    The disrupter cannon fired and fired, and suddenly the alien ship's fields went down. Chunks of the sickly white webbing were blown away into space. And as suddenly as that, the strange energies infesting the Dauntless disappeared.
    Workstations returned to normal, emergency systems began taking care of fires,
    life support was reestablished, and the attack was over. Silence ordered the disrupter cannon to break off firing, but to stand ready to resume the attack as necessary. The fires went out, the injured were helped, and the dead were dragged away. When the last alarm went off, it was eerily quiet on the bridge.
    "All right," said Stelmach. "What do we do now?"
    "We board the alien ship," said Frost. "We've done them some damage, but we have no way of telling how much, or how long it'll take them to make repairs. So we'd better strike now while they're still weakened."
    "Agreed," said Silence. "I want that ship taken intact, so our people can take it apart and see what makes it tick. Especially, the shields and the weapons. We might have to face them again. But even so, given the state of the Dauntless, I can't authorize more than a small boarding party. You, Investigator, myself, and a dozen marines."
    "Sounds good to me," said Frost.
    "You can't leave the ship now, Captain," said Stelmach. "There are damage reports coming in from all over."
    "Then, you deal with them. I'm needed on the boarding party. If only because I'm one of the few people here to have faced aliens and lived to tell of it. Cross, you work with the Security Officer. See he has all the support he needs."
    "Yes, Captain," said Cross. "But I do feel I should point out that Regulations clearly state…"
    "All right, you've pointed it out. Now, forget it. With all the trouble I'm in, a few more broken Regs are the least of my worries. You don't need me, Cross.
    This ship is dead in the water. Just watch over her, and don't let Stelmach get too carried away with his new responsibilities. Anyone calls, you know where to
    find me. Let's go, Investigator. I want a close-up look at the kind of ship that can trash an entire city and starport and almost took out an Imperial starcruiser."
    "Right," said Frost. "And with a bit of luck, we'll get to kill some aliens, too."
    "There's always the chance they're playing possum," said Stelmach.
    "Then, they'll soon be dead possums," said Silence.
    The Dauntless maneuvered carefully with the little power she had left to set herself alongside the alien craft, which made no move to acknowledge her presence. Sensors picked up no energy readings or life signs. Silence lay quietly in his hard suit inside the torpedo tube, listening to the reports over his comm implant. He didn't place too much reliance in the sensors. He had a strong feeling the alien ship was still perfectly capable of keeping its secrets to itself. He stirred uncomfortably, as best he could. He was lying facedown in one of his own torpedo tubes, the shoulders of his hard suit brushing against the steel walls, and he barely had room to twitch his fingers, never mind attend to the itch that was building with slow malevolent intensity between his shoulder blades. Normally, he'd only have to wear a hard suit maybe half a dozen times in a year, and this was the second time in one