"Pull hard to starboard!" yelled Davidson. taking down this foil was harder than it should have been. A transport shouldn't be this hard to sink, surely. Svensgaard was right-this was no ordinary ship!
Another round of fire from the shredder rifle. A modfied version of the shredder pistol, it had been modified to act as an automatic rifle. Add on to this the normal shredder pistols being fired at the transport from more staff, and multiply the result by three, the number of ships in the attack. How the foil was surviving all this time was amazing. Sure, a few major cracks were visible, and they felt they were halfway towards a major success, but over half the rounds were being repelled. Some mystical forces were at work. Even strabger, not a casualty had been seen. It seemed to be a ghost ship, apart from the fact the transport was moving in elusive patterns. All available staff must be in the transport, thought Scott.
Even the bow wave from the transport seemed abnormal. Instead of the normal trail curving away from the foil, it seemed to follow zig-zagging trails in irregular patterns. Nothing felt right, and even the crew of the Crestrider felt chilled to the bones.
'Not for long' thought Scott, as the hull would soon crack in two, and the transport would be sent to Davy Jones' Locker
Another round of fire from the shredder rifle. A modfied version of the shredder pistol, it had been modified to act as an automatic rifle. Add on to this the normal shredder pistols being fired at the transport from more staff, and multiply the result by three, the number of ships in the attack. How the foil was surviving all this time was amazing. Sure, a few major cracks were visible, and they felt they were halfway towards a major success, but over half the rounds were being repelled. Some mystical forces were at work. Even strabger, not a casualty had been seen. It seemed to be a ghost ship, apart from the fact the transport was moving in elusive patterns. All available staff must be in the transport, thought Scott.
Even the bow wave from the transport seemed abnormal. Instead of the normal trail curving away from the foil, it seemed to follow zig-zagging trails in irregular patterns. Nothing felt right, and even the crew of the Crestrider felt chilled to the bones.
'Not for long' thought Scott, as the hull would soon crack in two, and the transport would be sent to Davy Jones' Locker
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