Proximal Flame's Fiction

The unaerodynamic craft banked, dipping one ungainly ‘wing’ towards the welcome party as it circled the plateau and Vul-reni’s valve pulsed in her chest. She did not know how much firepower the invader’s ship possessed, but even a jet fighter could handily wipe her and her team out before they could properly greet any attackers. Had they discovered the sniper teams that lay buried in the sand? It appeared they had not, as the craft finished its orbit and hovered in mid-air before the Speechmistress and her team, flat-footed landing gear extending from several spots on its lower facing as it slowly lost altitude, gently setting itself on the Balaka Plateau’s soil.

The increase in Lefu presence had convinced the brass another major attack was imminent and if the aliens came in force, the Concord needed every ship available to beat them back – and deal with this new threat from the ‘Necros’. Thankfully, at the moment the second alien force was not Command’s priority – if the specs from the Empties prize vessel were right, then the Necros were slower then molasses in hyperspace. And they’d have to go through the Lefu-held systems to reach Concordat space. With luck, those two will kill each other off and save us the trouble.

Brian looked up at them both, his face white. “The planet…” He brought the image up onto the main viewscreen. Abigail felt her jaw drop open, her knees shaking. She grabbed the Navigation console to steady herself; it was the only thing that kept her from falling.