Claimed by the inferno

[Mister Sammy]

Safety. The scent of smoke hung thick in the air, wafting in through the endlessly recycled oxygen that the life support system provided. The high O2 content was to blame; as opposed to the regular atmospheric compositions - with the crisp, dry atmosphere with not a hint of humidity only made it that much more telling that they were on board a ship . . . not on the surface of one of the countless planets in the Sector.

. . . such a strange train of thought for having escaped the fires that had torn through his vessel. . . well, perhaps it was simply the giddy rush of momentary relief. . .and the painkillers. Yes, the military-grade drugs being administered to his system while the medbay patched him up did certainly addle his mind, just a little bit.

Planning. Right. Shut off the life support, let the fires all over the ship burn out. . .turn it back on, and then make the long list of repairs dwindle one by one, jump away and hire new crew. . . after, of course, securing the mercy of his nebulous enemies.

...Hadn't they already refused an offer to surrender?

Suddenly, a new scent was registered, as an electrical pulse shot through the medbay, causing the upgraded systems to malfunction. Left now with the base systems, he began to realize what was going on. "...No."

The intense heat of the beam came next, sweeping mercilessly across the room and igniting fresh blazes. He quickly unhitched the extinguisher from his hip and began to spray. "NO, PLEASE!"

The scent of ozone became thicker still. The medbay went dark. . . the immediate presence of second-degree burns on his body was mitigated by the drugs it had administered. His skin began to dry out, the beginnings of blisters forming everywhere. "I SURRENDER! PLEASE! DON'T DO THIS TO ME!" He yelled out.

From pale...to brown...his hair and uniform eaten away by the ravenous blaze, the agony far too intense for the drugs to suppress, he was now spraying the extinguisher wildly. The air was choked thick with smoke, both of the fire and the broken systems sizzling away, heaving coughs racking his body.

From brown...to black. He collapsed, losing his mind in the inferno, screaming himself hoarse as he writhed around in the oven that had become of his medbay, of his entire ship. All the while, the enemy continued to bombard the room with the ion weapon.

For the last fifteen seconds of his life, Rebel Captain Bomfy M. lay twitching in dark agony. His useless eyes stared into a blaze they couldn't see, his barely functional limbs twitching worthlessly on the neosteel floor panels which glowed with both reflected and intrinsic heat. Am I dead yet? Is this hell? The man thought to himself. ...I regret nothing...the Federation would do...do...THIS...My su-* His thoughts were cut off as the cold, soothing hands of Death claimed him.

--

"No life-forms detected. Moving ship in for salvage operation. Another jump, another battle won." GMFaux stated in that stilted Engi speech, powering down the Ion Blast Mk II as the Torus closed in on the Rebel Fighter, gazing in admiration at the Fire Beam, before it too lost its glow and returned to its idle position.

--

So I was doing a Torus run and got my hands on a Fire Beam. Fun times! But once the Flagship went down I paused to reflect on my actions. How many people were burned alive for my victory? So I decided to channel my morbid train of thought into this short story, spinning the actions of the player from the viewpoint of the enemy. I think it turned out okay!