Flash Fiction: The Countdown

The Call of Troythulu

I am Thraad4 and I am not a happy Technic.

I’m a member of Broogh fleet Magzichoolud-242563756, personally assigned by my God-Thegn to command a flotilla of vessels on a rear-action scouting and punitive mission.

For a Technic, I’m said to have unusually good command and tactical skills as well as my caste’s drive and knack for research. This is a serious mission. My God-Thegn does not dole out such tasks lightly, and failure to get results is simply not an option.

Broogh vessels are all sub-luminal velocity craft, though my species has always had a peculiar brilliance in the field of gravity manipulation. There is our fearsome gravity-bomb, capable of harnessing the might of a black hole to destroy an enemy fleet.

There is even talk, in hushed whispers, of using that same principle to generate controlled wormholes for quick interstellar jumps. So far, such attempts all end in catastrophic failure — so my species is…

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