Hallways blared in alarms and red lights called for the elite troops to report to their battle stations. I glided through the shaft, grabbed the sniper on my way up and slowly swimmed in the air towards the door. Small drones exited their post and started knitting the combat suit on me.
– Unit 64 A at the cargo bay, frame 32 is closed. – I said gently tapping the rifle that opened and moved to it’s deadly form.
– Get back here! Who gave you the orders to detach from your place?! You are going straight to the military tribunal, you insubordinate bitch!
– Please repeat! I am losing you! Shchchhhshhh…. I-I… ‘m lo’… ng you. – I giggled while turning off the radio and entering a war capsule.
Upon entering the small room, power lit the walls and controls gave a sound of operational readiness. A tap on the panel, made it soft and easy to move, almost like a playing thing made out of liquid material that was protecting me. Muzzle breached the watery field and scope tapered at the incoming sauser. It was a figterjet drone, shapeshifter class with a busted engine. It slowly rotated toward our ship like it was dead in the space, but I knew better. I knew it could be a trick, so my eyelash flapped and the breath went still. Enemy’s cockpit presented a sweat spot and the bullet flew following the tunnelvision of the scope. It didn’t moved in aggressive way, so next couple of bullets ranged on the same spot knocking on the shivering platings. Still no answer.
– Is it dead? – I asked in the radio that thundered in commander’s shouts, but soon the lieutenant stopped arguing and leaned on the window to inspect the floating object.
– It’s alive! – he screamed when the drone opened it’s wings and pushed out his weapons.
Smart bullet guided the barrage of rockets that destroyed the vessel in a ball of fire. A smile consumed my face when one of our battle cruisers passed over the drone debris and sucked it in for analysis.
– You are a galactic bitch, you know that. – commander spoke somewhat satisfied with my actions.
– So, I’m not to be judged by a bunch of fat men in a smoky room? – giggling passed the radio.
– No, but we will have to talk in the morning if you don’t leave my bed like you did today.
We continued our voyage in the designated route, marked in the digital screen that tapered the nearby galaxy and Gliza Minor with a specter of enemy planets we were headed to bombard.