THE N.A.G.A CHRONICLES.

Chapter One.

Heideran VII, Ammar Emperor, Pax Amarria

Harokas peered through the rheumy smoke filled bar, across to where his two friends sat. He regarded them wilfully, a squint to his right eye. His plan for them was set, although the inevitability of his ideals stretched away and behind him like a twisting avenue. Tzadkiel, a gnarly frigate captain turned to Perera and their conversation flowed as they supped the first crisp moments of their Quafes, an easy confidence born out of mutual acceptance and trust, years of shared experience in the making. Their voices only added to the low murmur filtering throughout the room however, and Harokas couldn’t make out what it was they were saying. Nevertheless, he smiled.

* * * *

Molten metal screamed through the void, twisted and twisting, it slammed and dissolved ten meters from the ship’s hull. “Fuck! We taken on too much?” Perera’s concern was cut short as he busied himself re-aligning his shield booster and then grimacing as his auto-target picked up another Gurista pirate. They had exited warp too close to the enemy’s defensive line.
“Oh great. They all love me, Tzad, can you –?” Two missiles struck the pirate vessel, followed by several bursts of titanium sabot slug, the scorched ship folded, flashed and burst apart, it’s bright life extinguished as Tzadkiel’s Tristan frigate arced above Perera’s event horizon, occluding the blast glare.
“Will you stop preening yourself and concentrate?” Tzadkiel’s advice met Perera’s ears as he whirled around the face the holocom, the latter’s laconic raised eyebrow equalled by the older captain’s wink.
Perera rolled his eyes and turned back to concentrate on his ship’s radar scanner. The Whispering Quietly’s augmented systems began to plot trajectories and threat vectors; while it’s operator’s experience did the rest. Sure enough they had arrived far too close to the initial defensive layout, the co-ordinates supplied by Harokas in hindsight seemed to invite ambush, but the two light frigates thrown at them so far hadn’t posed too much danger, now there was a edgy calm as the opposing forces set themselves, positioning for advantage across the dearth of space.
“OK, gents.” Perera began, “we have four hostiles, standard delta, thirty clicks at oh-four-nine degrees to starboard. These jocks aren’t that hot I bet, so expect the apex ship to be the ace, king and all-round glory hole – we knock him and the rest will be target practice… including the late arrival, hiding in the wreck… heh, if that’s the reinforcements then they’ve just warped in, 52 clicks, straight to port.”
“Mark your targets and engage.” The order came from Tzadkiel, easily slipping into the commander’s role again. “Harokas, break your attack and reform with us."

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