exactly. if only there were survivors to let the rest of them know how they had lost......o well. sucks to be them.

No, there would be some communication with the outside. It is rare for every ship in a fleet to be destroyed, there would have been at least some communication with another ship or several ship about an intruder on board, and it is probable that they would conclude he had taken over the ship. Either way, if no one had survived the Vassari would start to get tougher as the war dragged on, and I believe there would be more ship board combat as the war escelates. I believe as the war drags on, they would toughen up when it came to hand to hand combat, or they would die. Why, you may ask? They would almost certainly have soldiers on ground, and the TEC would send down soldiers to retake their fallen bretheren, and as the battles in space drag on, the Vassari would almost certainly realize the need to protect ground fortifications better, and what better way to protect than with excelently trained soldiers. Okay, my point is they would not stay this way forever. They would toughen up.

yes, they would toughen up, but they wouldnt start right after this battle, thats wat i meant to say. Vasari Command knew a battle was being fought around that planet, they wouldnt call them up and say, "hey, we have one tec guy walking around our ship, just thought you should know." thats not something to notify them about, theyd just deal with it themselves and include it in their report. but since they all died, the vasari conclude they blew the ship up. which sucks for both cause now theyr gonna be pissed at the tec, and also scared as #&*$ cause this is the first time theyv lost anything since the Darkness destroyed their empire.

What I said was very rude. I will not allow people to view it.

?

wat was rude? that last thing u said? no, its good to argue the finer points of my story with me, it helps me refine the story and work it into you guys's interests. i mean if u just go on saying how my story sucks and how i should delete it all or something im not gonna listen to that......but i like ur comments cause uv helped me work out what i want to do with the story by pointing out little faults and stuff that iv missed.

No, I was insulting the Vassari and I used very crude words. By the way, I still think you should have taken a different approach to Kol taking over the ship, as I said before disabling shields or weapons or something. I still find it doudtful he could have gotten to the bridge without being killed or captured

theres gonna be an explanation. remember, im doing this book-style, so this explanation would come on the next page right after Kol's adventure. but anyway, its going to be from the Vasari's point of view. maybe a little bit of Kol's too.

time for a referral update!

          # of referrals

It seems a bit too god-like for one man, armed with a pistol to take out twenty armed and armored, highly trained, ready for combat Vasari.  and the lowest crew complement of any Vasari capitol ship is 4000, the Antorak Marauder.  the Devastator has a complement of 9,000, and is the likely choice for a flagship (and a flagship would have a much higher crew complement than a standard ship).  it doesn't seem realistic that he would only meet twenty Vasari in between his fighter and the bridge, unless he landed right outside the bridge.  it also isn't very realistic that

in other words, you can't really aim when diving, and you definitely wouldn't have time to fire off three rounds(assuming 100% accuracy) until you came to a stop on the ground and became an easy target.  plus the vasari would take cover as soon as one of their members goes down, not wanting to die themselves.  and a shot to the leg will not kill, so IMO, that's what they'd go for.  blow out the kneecaps.  or maybe use nonlethal ammunition.

forgive my little rant there, I'm a bit of a stickler for realism, and hate invincible/all powerful/superman(or superwoman) characters.  (i.e. Pacific Vortex by Clive Cussler has a terrible case of this)

again, ill explain it all next chapter. kol realizes hes an amazing sharpshooter, we learn he's the best shot in the entire TEC army. and from the vasari point of view we learn how he fought through the ship. and only 20 guards, not 4,000. it will be explained, iv just had a lot going on and not a lot of time to write.

Futuristic guns? Maybe different ammo enables an automatic fire mode for pistols, or the rounds were fragmentation ordnance.

I kind of bristled at the part where it had a specific button for releasing all of the air except for in the bridge. It's as if they designed it to be taken over by one person. maybe he could find a button to lock the bridge doors, and then some kind of emergency open button for all un-locked doors. It seems a little dumb that the button shows it was intentionally designed for exposing everything to space.

i liked the chapter it was pretty good and people, come on cut him a little slack. he is trying to make somthing more creative than the fighter shooting a super laser or burrowing missle. and it is a little bit annoying how u guys are harrasing him for answers to a question, he already answered. no offense to u people. and thx for the great story. Keep it comi'n!  

I'm not trying to control the story for him. He's repeatedly asked for feedback, and in my opinion that's really good.

well, in essence it was created to destroy a boarding party that had managed to break onto the ship. the ship overall was considered more important than the lives of the few that would die, since the command center would have been holding the most elite and specialized crewmen. except that one man boarding their ship wasn't worth sealing off everything but the command center. so they didn't do it. too bad for them.

but i made a promise to myself that i would hav another story down before saturday. at least before i go to sleep. it might become saturday before i finish. im not sure. it depends when i start. but i will hav one done today or some ungodly hour of the night.

Chapter 9, part 1
The Vasari Shall...Fall?

The Vasari

8 years ago, galactic position 305, 835, planet code named VASAR

    "Enemy strike crafty approaching on vector 84, Elite Subjugator!"
    Num'pol looked up from his holo-screen. "Launch the viskyeeri!"
    "As you command, Elite Subjugator."
    Streams of small strike craft soared from under the ship and the other three capital ships, zooming towards the small blue streaks coming towards them. Lights began flashing, and the red streaks and blue streaks began to intertwine. Even from this distance, excitement began to bubble up inside Num'pol. This was battle. This was life.
    "Enemy craft approaching from the northern sector!"
    Num'pol looked down at his screen again. Blue shapes, indicating the enemy, were massing together and moving as one large block towards his own formation of ships. They were symbolized in red.
    "Create a vorashknir between them and the Platinum, don't let them near this ship!"
    "Acknowledged, Elite Subjugator, sending fleet directives to the other captains now..."
    Num'pol nodded at the Vasari. Turning back to his screen, he began directing the downfall of this fleet of humans. The weak shall fall, and the strong shall fall, and the Vasari shall remain triumphant.
    Num'pol jumped as an explosion rocked the ship. Hurriedly he checked the ship's computers. Had that been some new surprising human missile? No, there had been no missile.
    "Status report!" Num'pol barked out. "Tell me what just happened!"
    "A human fighter crashed into our hull, Elite Subjugator!" A Vasari Invasion Specialist shouted out.
    "How did it get past our shield!" Num'pol roared.
    The Invasion Specialist visibly quaked. "I...I am not sure, Elite Subjugator, only that they cut through it as if it were no more than shuffa butter."
    Num'pol clenched his fist. "Destroy the fighter!" Then he had a thought. "But if there are any humans left aboard...bring them to me. I would know more about their race."
    The Invasion Specialist bowed, knuckle to forehead. "It will be done as such, Elite Subjugator."
    Num'pol watched the Vasari shuffle out. Someone tapped him on the shoulder. He whirled around the confront Aeb'nir.
    "What!" He managed to spat out. Darkness be damned, he was getting as jumpy as a knishma.
    Aeb'nir pointed calmly over to the large green button that shut off the oxygen flow through the ship, with the exception of the command center. If an invading army managed to board their ship, the command center could easily dispatch them. With the loss of thousands of their own. But some things were worth the cost. And the Vasari's unvanquished history was one of them. They would never lose. Not to anyone. The weak shall fall, and the strong shall fall, and the Vasari shall remain triumphant.
    But Num'pol shook his head. An insurgent fighter could not carry more than one human. That was not worth losing the majority of his ship's personnel for. Aeb'nir pursed his lips and bowed. He did not care much for the lives of ordinary Vasari.
    "Make repairs on the hull breach!" Num'pol rasped out. "And bring up the hallway's video feed on the left screen!"
    Three enormous screens dominated one side of the command center. On the right ran countless lines of seemingly random letters and numbers. That was what kept the ship running. The center screen and left screen, however, could be displayed with whatever Num'pol fancied. Or other ship captain. On their own ships. The Vasari were fiercely aggressive creatures, Num'pol would not tolerate others using his personal screens.
    The screen lit up to static.
    "What is going on!" Num'pol roared.
    "Elite Subjugator..." The Vasari nearly quaked in his boots. "Elite Subjugator, the camera is down! I do not know why!"
    "Well find another!" Num'pol would brook no foolishness today. Turning back to the rest of the room, he addressed all the occupants. "Take us away from the battle! To the edge of the gravity well until we sort this out!"
    There was a slight sensation in his stomach, as if it were moving right as the ship turned left, but it quickly passed and Num'pol was so used to it now he payed it no mind. More important matters to think about. Much more important.
    "Elite Subjugator..." The junior officer was really quaking now. "T-the c-cameras...he m-must be s-shooting them, Elite Subjugator, t-they are all d-down..."
    "ALL OF THEM?!?" Num'pol shook the ceiling with his roar.
    "N-n-no, Elite Subjugator, n-not all, b-but all n-near the crash s-scene..."
    "The Darkness take you!" Num'pol cried, and the junior officer jumped backwards in fright. He had cause this time. That was a heavy curse. Suddenly the lights flickered and the computers died. They started up again, only a second later, but that might have been an eternity for a starship of the Platinum's size.
    "All power to engines!" Num'pol cried as the ship tilted dangerously, succumbing to the pull of the planet's gravitational pull. "Activate emergency thrusters! Regain control of our trajectory! I want a full explanation of what just happened eight shvakas ago! Move!"
    Num'pol took manual control over the ship, struggling to regain his course. There was a long delay of a few minutes while Num'pol and the planet's gravitational pull wrestled for dominance over control of the Platinum's course, but Num'pol eventually righted the ship and resumed its course towards the edge of the gravity well. After that had been settled and the sweat wiped off his brow, Num'pol turned to Aeb'nir, the damage consultant.
    "Now," Num'pol hissed, "what in all the Darkness is going on!"
    "Elite Subjugator," Aeb'nir hissed coolly. It was always coolly with Aeb'nir. "The computers have lost contact with ship grid number 39. It has gone offline."
    "What does that mean, Aeb'nir?" If Aeb'nir noticed the rising danger in Num'pol's tone, he gave no sign of it.
    "We have lost control of all door mechanics with the sole exception of the command center doors, which we can manually override. The others stay as they are until we can get the mechanics to the grid box. Which is not possible with the human running around."
    That reminded Num'pol, he had completely forgotten about the human. He turned to his left wall-screen, and sure enough, this camera was still broadcasting. Three Vasari were firing from entrenched nikrbrashkas, large fully automatic machine guns, at a low mini-wall jutting out across the hallway. Someone had placed it there, and Num'pol would give them hell once he found out who. But now was not the time. As he watched, the human dove from his cover, fired what seemed to be an automatic pistol, and the three Vasari dropped to the ground. Num'pol's jaw dropped as well. He quickly counted the shells that had dropped from the human's gun. Five. Five shots, and three had instantly killed his Vasari armed with nikrbrashkas! A cold, chilled feeling swept up what Vasari considered spinal cords. How could they have guessed humans would be trained in close combat as well as space and long-range combat? The Vasari certainly did not. What would have been the point? It had been over 10,000 years, during the great Vasari Empire, that the last time the Vasari had needed to defend a ship from boarding had arisen. They had done everything from inside their ships from that point onward. There was the elite Mani'k corp, true, but they were usually only for planetary rebellions, and they had never met much resistance. Besides, he had no Mani'k on his ship at the time. What he would have given for just one, though. Num'pol watched in disbelief as the human skirted around the dead Vasari and crept off screen.
    "Move it!" Num'pol ordered, but the camera was already at the farthest angle it could turn. The cold feeling returned to his spine, and Num'pol realized it was fear. These humans were demons.
    "Out! Everybody out!" Num'pol ordered, dragging Vasari from their consoles. They looked about in confusion as Num'pol set the ship in an autopilot-controlled geosynchronous orbit, and then turned to his staff.
    "Vasari," he hissed, looking them all in the eye, "Vasari, we have not much time, so I will be brief. We are facing an enemy we are not prepared for, one we have no suitable defenses against. So this is what I propose. All of you, every single one, exit the rear doors and make your way through the ship as best you can. Find as many Vasari as possible, and try to eject yourselves in the safety pods. If the doors are unlocked. As for me, I will stay here and engage the human. If I am victorious, I will come contact you. If I am not and you cannot escape, prepare a final stand. I know this is only one human, one against all us here, but you saw as well as I the camera's video feed. You saw how he moved. Not tell me, how many of you would die before we could take him down? If we took him down? Would it be worth it, just to kill one human? I am not discussing this. Leave now, and try to escape. Try to escape."
    Num'pol's speech was met with silence, with many eyes shifting about, wondering whether this was some sort of trick or trap.
    "Move!" Num'pol roared. "Out! Now!" They went.
    Alone in the command center, Num'pol exhaled heavily. He pulled his gun from its holster and examined it. Would he be fast enough? Would he kill the human? No, that was not the question. That was not why he had forced the others to leave. A strange sense of calmness had replaced the fear that had so recently enveloped Num'pol. He had made the others leave so they might have a chance to live. If that made him a bad Vasari, then to law be damned. He would have to drag out the battle as long as possible as to give his Vasari time to escape. It was all he could do for them. So he would not use his gun. If the human had any honor at all, he would not as well, seeing Num'pol without a weapon. They would be forced to wrestle, or whatever the humans called it. He might even have a chance at beating him then.
    It never occurred to Num'pol's mind that the human might not abide by the same code of honor that had been impressed upon Num'pol at birth. It did not occur to him that the human would strive to win, at all costs, with whatever means he had available to him.
    Num'pol did not realize the humans had no honor.
    There was a faint noise outside the main entrance to the command center, opposite the door from which the other Vasari had exited. So. This was it. A battle, of sorts. Num'pol did not consider any fight not involving starships as a real battle. But this one was nearly as important as the one he hoped was still raging around his ship, at least. He hoped there was still a space battle being waged. If his shields were gone he had not felt the tremors yet, but the rest of his fleet might very well be destroyed and he would have no way of knowing. No time now, anyway.
    Num'pol crossed the floor to the doors and pressed the button releasing the metallic bond that held them so tightly together. The human sprawled forward, and Num'pol pointed his gun at its head. The gesture was automatic despite his promises of dragging the fight out. This was his chance. The human slowly rose and kicked his gun away from him, raising his hands above his head. What was he doing? Preparing to attack? Offering to fight him hand-to-hand, as Num'pol had previously decided on? He studied the human thoughtfully, then tossed his gun away.
    "An even chance, human," he growled, the voice synthesizer implanted in his throat at birth---implanted because the Vasari of old had conquered so many races they needed a way to communicate with them all, hence the development of a small device implanted in ones speaking cords that broadcasted your voice in the languages of those nearby---the voice synthesizer voicing his words into English, before launching himself at the human.
    The human was incredibly fast. He ducked underneath Num'pol's arms and kicked outward, striking Num'pol's knees. Num'pol let out a hiss of escaping air as the pain lanced up his body, and he toppled to the ground. No! He had to make this last as long as possible. Raising his head, Num'pol saw the human glance towards the human gun that lay only a few feet away from him.
    Num'pol hissed in anger. "You would have no honor?"
    Then his eyes widened in shock as the human dove for the gun. It had done it. It actually had no honor. Num'pol had only enough time for one thought before bullets tore his brain to shreds. The weak shall fall, and the strong shall fall, and the Vasari shall...fall?