Payback

[Pakkrat [N7LA]]

Payback

They say one is not supposed to feel good about getting even. That vengeance is a negative aspect of humanity, needs to be tempered with forgiveness or at least a passionless and logical mind. Fie on that, thought the Privateer Pakkrateus as his ship, The Maze Runner fell out of warp 30 clicks from Arkan in Aragoth Prime. Three days ago, he had been tasked by Anjuren Khan to take out a few misbehaving Wayward Satellites and a Wayward Drone or two. All so the Privateer could be tested for battle readiness and other warlike behaviors. With no warning, the Privateer had, on arrival been swarmed by the rogue and malfunctioning AIs that kept unleashing barrage after barrage of energy attacks upon Pakkrateus' ship. It had caused him to call for a tow...all the way back to Saturn's NET-7 SOL for he had forgotten to mark his passage into Aragoth Prime at Chernovog Station. Thus, after repairs and a few adjustments it had been a long slog back to the Aragoth solar system to finish his appointed task.
Now the mission had taken on a life of its own. Rather than just jaunt out to the location near Arkhan, a moon of Aragoth Prime and down a few haywire machines, this was a lesson in payback. The Privateer meant to serve it up in on a cold dish with a side order of plasma. How could anyone fault him for a vengeful streak upon machines? They didn't care that they were being retired. They just followed their semi-autonomous territoriality and attacked any ship coming within their scan range. With not much else to do, the machines needed to be put down anyways.
Now, the Maze Runner shadowed by the eclipsing passage of Aragoth Prime before the bright primary of its sun, was hidden by more than its flat black hull as Pakkrateus crept forward at impulse drive. Ahead were the swarming machines that had incapacitated his ship days ago. The tow had been expensive and the Wayward Satellites and Wayward Drones were going to retroactively foot the bill.
Rather than rely on the up close and personal Musket projectiles so common to Progen of his license, this hunt was going to be very one-sided and not very sporting at all. This was no sport. This was vengeance that nobody would pat him on the back for. Nor would they condemn the Privateer for such a vengeful streak against such malfunctioning technology.
Pakkrateus looked out over his shoulders, through the bridge's view ports at the weapons he had chosen for this hunt. The weapons had been collecting dust and he had long ago discounted the ordinance as something to be mapped and forgotten. Two Blacksun Petit Oguns rode the wings' edges while an Evoco Fist of the Merus Meilia sat nearer to the port side fuselage. The missile launchers were flat black and almost invisible against the starry night of space. Only the glowing purple payloads of plasma betrayed their presence on the wings. The Merus Milia torpedo, fat and packed with explosive retribution awaited the safety release command from the bridge. The Privateer's attention was brought back to the fore by the ringing range confirmation of the ships scanning target scope. And still the Satellites and Drones had not seen his shadowed and black ship.
For the aging Progen had also installed another relic that was aging as much as he was in his vault. DiApoggee's protype engines were hungry reactor consumers, but they had one thing Pakkrateus needed. Their low signature exhaust was just the thing he wanted to snipe these machines and get that satisfactory payback he desired. Running silent in the shadows cast by Aragoth Prime, Pakkrateus released the safety.
Power flowed again from the reactor to enable the three launchers. Just to make extra sure of himself and to spice things up, Pakkrateus also released the safety on the feedback shield inverters. If by some means the machines came too close, well the Privateer had a little friend waiting in case of close encounters of the Wayward kind.
"Welcome to dinner, my friends," Pakkrateus said as his trigger finger pulled with a satisfactory click. The launchers spat their ordinance with gusts of released air as two missiles and a torpedo tore through the night sky towards the first unlucky Satellite needing retirement. The Ogun plasma missiles arced slightly as they homed in on their target while the torpedo zigged and zagged erratically towards the Wayward Satellite.
While Terrans might tout the "fire-and-forget" nature of missile weapons and lazily hunt by kiting, the Progen Privateer did no such thing. He wanted his targets to come to him. Rather than just pulling the trigger and waiting, Pakkrateus used his onboard targeting skills to further guide the ordinance to critical structural locations on the first hapless Wayward Satellite. The plasma missiles, sleek and eager struck first as they spilled high energy plasma over the joints and armor of the machine to eat away at the structure. Then the fat torpedo landed squarely in the hole left by the consuming plasma. The explosive charge laid open the Satellite's hull to expose the delicate computer core piloting the machine.
The AI registered the attack and spun around to reverse-track the trajectory of the attack to the shadowed area where the Maze Runner was hidden. It thrust in an automated response to threats. Close in and use its energy projector until the threat was nullified. After all, it was never designed for combat.
The Maze Runner's launchers hissed again and a second volley of guided missiles and torpedo turned the Wayward Satellite to space slag after a short flight. Pakkrateus smiled as he noted that the fast-moving machines had gratefully put their hulks within the extended range of his tractor beam boosted as it was by the focusing Harpy's Grip device. Thus the looting and payback began earnest. The Roc's Velocity device also lent celerity to the stripping of gear from the Satellite, leaving Pakkrateus the happy activity of finding a new target. The Wayward Satellite had never come close enough to fire upon his ship.
Satellites and Drones fell one by one by the sniping actions of the Maze Runner hidden as it was in the eclipse shadow of the planet behind him. Any that were lucky to get close enough to fire their energy projectors were met by the shield inverter which proceeded to rip apart the target even as the AI tried in vain to perform surgery on the Privateer. The retirement and salvaging continued into the night.
"Revenge is best served on a cold plate with a side order of plasma," said Pakkrateus to nobody as he continued to snipe the machines one or two at a time. The spare parts would more than pay for the repair bill and tow his ship had endured. It was turning out to be profitable.

Pakkrat