“Arm the mega-cannons. Prepare to unleash Hell!”
The deckplates rattled like old men’s teeth as, twenty decks below, soldiers loaded the mighty cannons built into the starcruiser’s port and starboard bows. They stuck out in space like spikes, glowing red-hot as the electronics fizzed to life, and the bullets moved to fire.
Lieutenant Drak grinned at his captain. “All gunners report in: we’re ready.”
Grude took this moment to look upon his beautiful prey and wonder, what glory could have been bestowed upon her crew, had they been wise enough to join the Alliance of Honour. Now, they stood on the brink of utter destruction. He felt regret, but it was far outweighed by the thrill of excitement. For he was about to wipe out gods among mere mortals. He would be a god killer.
The general grinned. “Open fire.”
Stars are immensely bright pockets of fire scorching the black of space. But nothing outshone the nova of light that sprung from the Gideon’s heart, as thousands of bullets rained upon her silver flesh and tore her asunder. Sparks and fire and dismembered limbs flowed into the ocean of space. The Gideon was no more.
“Target destroyed,” reported the Lieutenant, his yellow teeth open in a twisted grin. “All souls destroyed.”
“This,” declared Grude, punching his chest, “is a good fukking day for the Alliance. Let it be recorded: a hundred wayward Gods fell before the swords of the mightiest Allies, their souls be undone.”
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