The Province Of Terrans

A Starshatter adventure

Fellow Terrans, today is Sci-Friday and what you voted for is here! Chapter 2 of our vote your own adventure story, where Morale Officer Vinson will do exactly what you wanted. I hope that everyone will continue to vote so we all have riveting heroic tale for our reading enjoyment.

For those of you new to VYOA, this is a story of interactive nature, where you, the reader, choose one of three paths standing before the main character. Your vote is the guiding force of this adventure!

With one week between the chapters, there is more than enough time for you to make your decision. Share the story with your friends on Substack, see if they support your choice or vote a different way. Voting cycle will end each Thursday so I may have enough time to complete the chapter.

Those who like can discuss the protagonist’s options and I promise to answer your questions concerting Terran culture, philosophy, and worldbuilding to the best of my ability!

If you like what you read, consider buying any of my published works.

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Index: Chapter 1 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15

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Chapter 2

Menace

The Morale Officer's grin widened mid-flight even though his belt's energy reserves were drained much faster than usual. With little to no sound he floated through the back entrance and across the kitchen floor. In stealthy breaching actions like these, his armored shoulder would've gained him entrance inside the tavern proper. Not today. With a quiet click, his wrist-mounted energy projector formed a circular shield which violently swung the bar door open.

Squeezing his grav-belt's last watts of energy, Vinson charged forth vibro-blade swinging. Positioned for a perfect flank assault, the Morale Officer's shortsword sliced air, armored spacesuit, and child-snatching pirate. The scoundrel's arm was severed straight through the elbow joint and the baby was only begging to fall when Vinson deftly grabbed her. Indeed, the girl no longer dangled from her leg; instead it was the pirate's still twitching hand that did so.

With a sparing, circular motion, the Morale Officer decapitated his screeching one-handed enemy. Vinson's belt cried out in electronic protest and, out of energy, the Terran's megasteel soles landed on the floor. The baby stopped crying, safely tucked behind his wrist-mounted energy shield. Without delay the two pirates attacked him, yet advantage was still on his side, at least for a few seconds longer.

Child clutched close to his armored chest, the Terran made sure to keep her away from pirate attacks, even though the shield protected her. With one swift step, the tip of his wide-bladed shortsword perforated the female pirate's skull since she was star-second away from firing her automatic beamgun.

“Take her!” - He asked the baby's mother and, eyes focused on the last opponent, gave the father a nod.

Vinson's sign was seen and understood and after he parried one vicious sword swing, the child was no longer in his arms. Her mother crawled away on the floor, the babe clutched to her bosom. Another sword blow glanced later and the father pried the overpowered beam pistol from the limp hand of his child's would-be killer.

The bulky sword-wielding pirate had no energy shield, his only protection the engineered for starship boarding spacesuit. Though the star warrior was surprised, he was not panicking nor was he afraid. He locked eyes with the Terran and since his helmet's faceplate was transparent, Vinson could see a smile. Not like his own, no. 'Twas the gruesome smirk of a man in love with murder.

“This is my first time seeing a Terr'aan.” - he sneered and made a probing stab which the Morale Officer parried with practiced ease.

“Did I measure up?” - Vinson asked with a cheeky grin and energy shield raised, he made a vicious series of stabs, one of which mangled the pirate swordsman's chest plate.

“Always thought ye be smaller, fluffier like.” - said the pirate, the insides of his helm aglow with damage warnings as he backed away two steps.

The Morale Officer noticed that his opponent's stance shifted and heard the gentle click of spacesuit engine nozzles. In battle for spaceship hull supremacy, a star warrior was mighty beyond measure, as Vinson knew all too well.

Clanners trained their entire lives how to survive the depths of space and emboldened their minds with the tenets of Holy Darkness. Boarding a starship was an act more akin to the prayers of other cultures and to rise in their hierarchy, space pirates yearned to vanquish powerful foes.

To know your genocidal enemy was to defeat them even before life-saving battle was joined. Thus, even though this swordsman did not appear to be a zealous believer in this cultish faith, he could still be put off balance, and another important advantage gained.

The Morale Officer took a deep breath and changed his posture, ready for a lightning swift counter. By the push of a button he remodulated the coherency of his wrist-mounted energy field, changing it from a round sphere to a thick sheet covering his forearm. Vinson then made good use of the Terran Word and addressed the enemy, his words charged with skillfully woven irritating intent:

“You won't see the long ears and you definitely don't want to see... or hear the little feet of doom.”

“Star warriors do not quiver before gene-grafted beasts of war.” - spat the Clanner, and his voice was heavy with anger when he shouted - “We hunt them for sport!”

“I'd applaud your confidence,” - Vinson canted his head with a smile - “if my hands were free.”

The spacesuit's many engines throbbed and hissed, tiny needles of plasma propelling the star warrior forward. The few steps between him and the Morale Officer vanished in a star-second! If the Terran stood his ground he might suffer a broken arm or be knocked down and then hewn to pieces. Clanners were known far and wide across Fringe Space for their great skill in melee and their mastery of piloting was the stuff of legends.

But the Morale Officer was not where he stood a star-second before.

Instead, Vinson charged the pirate head on.

Sword-hand stretched, the tip of his Italian-made shortsword poised to breach the damaged pirate chestplate. However, barreling down his own head was the star warrior's vibro-sword and such was the strength behind this blow, that if it connected Vinson would be cleaved from shoulder to pelvis.

Their combined weight and the speed with which the short distance between them disappeared, meant that their hits would be brutal. Yet, one warrior was a master of spaceship boarding and the other, an expert in slaying those who preyed upon his people. Stabbed through the chest through and through, the star warrior's powerful swing hit Vinson. He had angled his remodulated shield however and the mighty strike glanced to the side.

“Fu-furtive... gargle... bastar...” - The Clanner spat out his last words, his chest torn open and curved blade firmly stuck in the floor.

Vinson twisted his sword as he pulled it out, the result an almost round see-through gory hole in the pirate's torso. Silenced forever, the bulky warrior fell with a loud, satisfying thump. It was then, when the Morale Officer and the family standing behind him heard a series of whizzes and crackles coming from the pirate helmets.

“Where are your damn hostages!?” - inquired a gruff female voice - “That sneaky Terr'aan could be lurking around, stalking us.”

The Morale Officer's grin became even wider. He picked up the head he chopped off earlier, opened the helmet's faceplate, tapped the comms and replied with wild abandon:

“Oh, I am afraid that your friends were quite unsuccessful in their hostage acquisition.”

Silence.

“Who are you?” - asked the same voice.

“The Terr'aan who stalks you.”

“Come out on the street then.” - rumbled the female pirate.

“Why?”

“We can have an honest shootout. By my Clan's honor, we will fight you one at a time!” - she challenged him and there was ill-conceived hate in her gruff voice.

Vinson sheathed his vibroblade and drew the laser pistol from its holster. One quick scan showed him that indeed, there were three pirates not fifty paces away from the tavern. A woman and two men, all armed with particle-beam rifles, pistols, and vicious vibrodaggers.

Pirate Rangers.

He looked at his own pistol and then the people behind him. Although he was quick on his feet and quite deft, Vinson was not a professional gunslinger. That was a skill one of his loyal friends, a Spacer called Northstone Firehand excelled at. Just like his friend often said, there were multiple solutions to every problem. Said solutions more often than not involved the liberal implementation of various weaponry, preferably of the highly modified, shooting kind.

“Take your wife and newborn to the basement.” - Vinson instructed the armed father and when this one turned around, added - “Lock the door and don't come out unless I say so.”

“But-” - the man protested, gripping his looted beam weapon so hard that its handle creaked.

“My Morale Officer's duty is saving lives. Yours,” - and Vinson pointed the baby - “is making sure that your daughter does not grow up an orphan.”

Without delay the young family ran down the stairs and locked themselves in their basement, leaving him alone. A fizzle came from the bloody helmet:

“Ey, sneaky one, you coming out or we have to flush ye out?”

Once more he had to make a choice and this time, his options were limited. Both his grav-belt and shield projector were overheated, their capacitors drained. If he met these pirate Rangers in a shooting contest, they could very well shoot him dead.

(One) He could go out... partially. If his hands, head, and leg were out of the tavern, then he could say that technically, he was out. Of course, Vinson would use his railgun rifle; from close range, the powerful weapon would easily mow these three Rangers dead. Since all civilians were safe in their basements, there was no danger of him accidentally killing or wounding someone. He was often warned by friendly aliens, that the much vaunted honor of space pirates mattered to them only when Clan affairs were concerned.

(Two) Vinson remembered well what his Spacer friend taught him. He would perform an extra detailed scan sweep of the three Rangers, then input their data into his holo-scope software. This would give him a hefty advantage, yet there was always a risk. Space pirates were not dupes; they often cheated their way into victory. If these three even suspected that he was trying to swindle them, he could end up shot by beam rifles and from point-blank range...

(Three) Contrary to popular pirate belief, Vinson was not the only Terran lurking 'round these parts. He probably needed to stall and confuse them for a couple of star-minutes or even less. When his fellow Terran came near, he'd easily pick off the three with his long rifle. Vinson would join in and laser to death the stragglers IF there was anyone left alive. Of course, those pirates could have a starship at the ready. Something fast and under cloak; the small shuttle they came here in or a light ground attack Skaer. Clanners were known to always have a way out; no scoundrel worth his or her decats would fight to the death when things went south.

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Dear reader, please do not forget to post your pick in the comments below, and elaborate upon why you think our protagonist should do so.