I reach the ship, my armor shimmering as the lasers graze past.
With a roar that would make the ground tremble if they tried me in a fair fight planet-side, I slam my armored fist into the cockpit window. The reinforced glass shatters inwards, spraying the pilot with shards.
There's a flash of gray and pink, a glimpse of the genali's grotesque form before rage takes over. I reach in, ignoring the searing pain that shoots up my arm as the genali's protections burn through my gauntlet.
There's no room in my mind to assess that new development, more content to let the rage take over.
Grabbing the gelatinous creature, I rip it from its control console, its amorphous form writhing in my grip as I squeeze a delightful scream out of it before releasing it to plummet down to the unforgiving ground.
I roar again, a challenge to the sky, a promise of retribution burning in my core. The cockpit alarms blare, a cacophony drowned out by the pounding of my heart.
As the lancer arcs downward, I sweep toward another, this time feeling the burn of a laser across my side before I'm able to move inside their guard and send another pilot screaming toward the ground, trying unsuccessfully to engage the jets I was sure to crush as I flung them.
Another quick darting maneuver and I have another slime in my claws, this time holding on to them and their ship for a moment to give my rage an outlet before it overtakes my good sense.
I search for another target, pleased to note that my brothers and sisters have already significantly thinned their numbers.
This won't last much longer.
Before I can even think, another lancer swoops in, firing a thick, dark-green cloud of gas. It engulfs me, the acrid fumes filling my helmet.
Why wouldn't they just simply blow me apart with their advantage?
My vision swims, the world turning into a swirling vortex of green. The crushing grip I had on the genali loosens as it overtakes me, its amorphous form slipping free.
A roar dies in my throat, replaced by a choking cough.
My lungs constrict, and the world turns on itself as the lancer flings me off as it careens downward to its destruction.
I land with a muted plume of dust, coughing up blood and greenish-pink gas as my unfocused eyes take in the world around me.
The simulated battlefield has become a scene of carnage.
Drak bodies litter the barren landscape, some twitching in the throes of genali paralysis gas, others still.
The few remaining genali ships sweep down to scoop up bodies, then flee, their mission complete. Smoke rises from the twisted wreckage of downed lancers, taken out by Maj'Ras bellowing out their victory cries.
The genali weren't here for conquest. Of course not. That would require a goal beyond quick profit.
As a ship scoops me up, my limbs won't respond, and I'm lifted into the air as it continues to pump green gas in my face.
Maybe that spice trader really will get the last laugh.
The last thought that runs through my tapering out consciousness is a white-hot fury that simply won't dissipate even as the world dissolves to black before my eyes.
3
Kira
What shocks me awake is the realization that I'm submerged in molasses.
The ghostly sensation flees the moment my eyes snap open. I am hard-pressed keeping the cringe off my face as I step out of the pod on shaky feet.
It's subtle, barely lasting longer than a few seconds before I school my features. Not that it stops my legs from quaking with strain.
Bits of black begin to stain the edge of my vision from the slowly increasing stench of something both vile and acrid, and then it hits me that I might be a bit screwed, and not in a fun way.
I'm stark naked.
