Three billion miles is a long way from home. But there's no shorter route from outer Neptune to Earth. As if that weren't enough . . . it's got to be a shoot-out all the way.
I don't know where they came
from and I don't care what they
want. The first shot across my
bow confirmed it. They are
Enemy.
I am Legend.
Earth Dies Screaming?
Not on my watch. The system patrol ship leaps to life under my hands, plugged directly into my brain.
We are one. I am the
Gyruss. The Navigation computer is locked on our destination:
Earth. The
cradle of mankind calls and we answer. We are
Death from Above.
I grip the stick and
prime the cannons.
Number 2 always seizes. Sometimes it works, sometimes not.
Doubleshot is nice to have, but I don't hold my
breath. If I did, nothing would get done. I clear the display and punch up the
tunes. Time to go to
work.
Bach penned
Toccata And Fugue In D Minor long before men flew the
stars. I swear he wrote it for this. The
warp engine kicks and light streaks into ribbons. I am locked in
sequence. Just outside Neptune the
hairball starts. I loop the tunes and
blaze my way down the
pipe,
five by five.
They flare like little
stars when they
explode. They come in
waves,
insect-like in action. Swarm and retreat. The
collision alarm screams in my head, but I am the
Fugue, I am the
laser, I am
Humanity’s angry response.
I feel like I have 9
lives. I hit the warp point and jump that much closer to home.
3 warps to Saturn. 2 warps to
Mars. 1 warp to
Earth. My knuckles are white. My luck is running out. They cloud my
path with metal and plasma. I am
doomed.
A
blossom of fire and I am gone.
Damn.
That was my last
quarter.