A Bad Day
The elemental screamed in pain almost knocking Padvar to the floor. Lightning ran across the hull making all his hair stand on end. A direct hit to the power housings. Another volley of lightning flechette burst across the bow of the ship as he banked hard to port. Where the Kobolds had got a Serubian star cannon from he had no idea and at this point he really did not care.
"Just hold it together a little longer," he said, as he reached out with his mind, trying to soothe the frightened elemental.
This was turning out to be a really bad day. Not the worst day ever, but it was starting to get close to it.
Another volley of flechette flew past the port power housing arching across the hull. Thankfully not a direct hit. He was not sure how much more the elemental could take. He invoked an evasive pattern and hoped that it was enough to get them out of harms way. Banking hard to port and then back to starboard, the Kobolds were having a hard time keeping up with the erratic movements.
This gave him a moment to feel out into the ship, to assess the damage. It was not good. Both power housings had taken significant damage, red throbbing wounds in his mind's eye. Even worse though, the elemental containment circle had taken damage, a crack in the field that kept the elemental contained. If that went he would be dead. There was no way the elemental was going to stay around.
He had three whiskers left and felt out into space to see if the Kobolds were pursuing. He could vaguely sense two smaller shapes detaching from the larger fiery shape in the stern. Could he outrun them with a second-rate water elemental? He was not sure.
"Should have paid the extra for the air elemental," he chided himself as he invoked and another evasive pattern.
It had meant to be an easy job. No complications, just a routine salvage job and Pelor knew he needed the work. It had started out simple, docking with the derelict hulk of the Phoenix, a Durivan cruiser from the second Dracnar war. He had copies of the salvage rights and haulage with him. To that point, he had thought, his luck had been turning around..
All that had changed when he had actually got on board and the Kobolds had attacked. The rest of his crew either, poisoned by the toxic, sulfurous atmosphere, burnt to a crisp by the gouts of flame or dragged away into the bowels of the ship. He shuddered as he thought back to the screams.
Something hit the starboard side of the ship, flipping it. He ran through a flurry of invocations to right the ship as it spun over and over again. The last three whiskers vaporized, leaving an incandescent burning in his head. The elemental thrashed in it's housing, desperately trying to escape. The small crack snaked out in all directions, splintering the field. He had no choice, he had to jump now.
Drawing in the rest of his waning power, he created a temporary field around the elemental and drove it forward as fast as it could go. The jump symbols lit up over the ship. He only hoped that enough were intact to make a stable jump. The ship leapt forward into null space, eldritch flaring surrounding the small ship. He screamed with the effort of holding the field together. The elemental slammed itself against the temporary field again and again, tearing at the inside. A momentary lapse in concentration and the elemental tore a hole in the field. The enraged creature, free, smashed a gaping wound in the side of the ship bursting out into null space.
Before he lost consciousness all he could hear was the wailing scream of the elemental being torn apart by the foreign environment. He lifted one hand trying to invoke one more pattern, but it was too much as he thankfully accepted unconsciousness…
Without power the little ship shifted back to normal space, lifeless and drifting, eldritch symbols slowly losing their glow. In the darkness of space, the dark bulk of Harbinger changed course and glided toward the ruined vessel. If Padvar had been conscious, he would have changed his mind: This was the worst day ever.