02-13-2017, 04:37 PM
Ratione had never seen anything like the spectacular light show presented before him in his entire two-hundred-and-fifty years, and he had seen a lot. However, it did not take any kind of experience with what he was witnessing to figure out how utterly bad it was.
As the hovering black crystals began winding up some sort of weapon, Ratione knew he was a trapped animal. His first attempt at escaping the sudden force keeping him down, and he commanded his on-board computer to bring up all information about the atmosphere around him. At the edges of spider-webbing crack in his visor, the Furtumin could barely make out an updated terminal velocity estimate that had been calculated after his failed jump. Just over twice Nova’s own. He looked back to see that the floating platforms just about ready to activate something…
Ratione gave one final push on his calves and extended both his arms straight downward, “Command! Emergency eje-!” A blinding white light and searing heat took over all of the Novan’s senses. Yet as quickly as the pain came, it subsided just as fast, eliciting a high-pitched scream from the seasoned veteran. All that he could make out were shapes flying past, then slamming into something cold and solid, an intense glow in the corner of his vision. He could feel his limbs were free from the suit, everything except his head and his shoulders no longer had the pressure from the armor. The smell of singed skin wafted into his nostrils, and the old man silently gagged.
It took a few moments, but the fuzziness in his eyes cleared. Before Ratione lay a black-scorched circle, his suit blackened and some parts melted down partially as well as completely. His boots had barely made it outside the radius, just a few centimeters away from the charred floor. Just as he had hypothesized, gravity affected mass, so less mass meant less weight, less weight for his jump-pack to displace.
Despite the small victory, Ratione dared not move. The Furtumin peered through partially closed lids, out of the corner of his right eye as he lay on his side. He could make out the thing maintaining its position in the air, moving slowly forward and with orbiting weapons platforms at the ready.
“C-command….” The Novan took in a hoarse breath, “Burst…” The limp body of the soldier rocketed across the ground, sliding underneath the bleachers. Black with white lines replaced the sight of Tearen’s ominous figure, and Ratione could feel a small sense of relief and relative safety wash over him.
As the hovering black crystals began winding up some sort of weapon, Ratione knew he was a trapped animal. His first attempt at escaping the sudden force keeping him down, and he commanded his on-board computer to bring up all information about the atmosphere around him. At the edges of spider-webbing crack in his visor, the Furtumin could barely make out an updated terminal velocity estimate that had been calculated after his failed jump. Just over twice Nova’s own. He looked back to see that the floating platforms just about ready to activate something…
Ratione gave one final push on his calves and extended both his arms straight downward, “Command! Emergency eje-!” A blinding white light and searing heat took over all of the Novan’s senses. Yet as quickly as the pain came, it subsided just as fast, eliciting a high-pitched scream from the seasoned veteran. All that he could make out were shapes flying past, then slamming into something cold and solid, an intense glow in the corner of his vision. He could feel his limbs were free from the suit, everything except his head and his shoulders no longer had the pressure from the armor. The smell of singed skin wafted into his nostrils, and the old man silently gagged.
It took a few moments, but the fuzziness in his eyes cleared. Before Ratione lay a black-scorched circle, his suit blackened and some parts melted down partially as well as completely. His boots had barely made it outside the radius, just a few centimeters away from the charred floor. Just as he had hypothesized, gravity affected mass, so less mass meant less weight, less weight for his jump-pack to displace.
Despite the small victory, Ratione dared not move. The Furtumin peered through partially closed lids, out of the corner of his right eye as he lay on his side. He could make out the thing maintaining its position in the air, moving slowly forward and with orbiting weapons platforms at the ready.
“C-command….” The Novan took in a hoarse breath, “Burst…” The limp body of the soldier rocketed across the ground, sliding underneath the bleachers. Black with white lines replaced the sight of Tearen’s ominous figure, and Ratione could feel a small sense of relief and relative safety wash over him.
"Our fear is our weapon."