The battleship hummed as it floated through the air, large, long, black, sleek, menacing. A green flag with the insignia of the Fallen waved in the air, showing proudly that this cruiser was used in the name of Evil. Explosions thudded against the shields, causing them to shimmer blue at the moment of impact, but nothing breached the black surface.
Inside, in the bridge, a man in a long red coat paced back and forth. On his shoulder was the same symbol that flew on the flag above. Two large chairs sat in the center of the room, one of them empty. A girl watching multiple screens, relaying orders to the bridge crew, occupied the other. The man in the coat glanced over the shoulders of a few officers, making sure they all did their jobs, when one jumped in his seat and yelled.
“Sir! The Holy Beacon is closing in, bearing 275 by 40, distance 30 kilometers and closing, maintaining altitude.”
The man in the coat turned to the girl in the chair. “Maintain heading, and launch interceptors. We will not be driven away so easily.”
She nodded and relayed the orders to the rest of the crew. The man in the coat looked out of the large windows on one end of the bridge, watching the battle around him. Ground troops of both sides of this battle moved in and fell back, in a dance only perceivable from so far above. Bombers swooped in on the capitol ships, miles above the planet’s surface, and unloaded their destructive packages.
This was the end, the Apocalypse, Ragnarok, the final battle between the forces of good and evil. Nobody knew what the end would be like, if anything would survive, if there would be anything beyond this. There was only one way to find out.
The long black cruiser rocked violently to starboard, throwing the ship’s commander to the floor. He stood up and dusted himself off, then looked back out of the window.
“What was that, Lieutenant?”
The girl put her glasses back on and checked the monitors. “The Holy Beacon hit us with an EMP weapon. Apparently, it was refitted before the battle. If it has any more in store…”
A gloved hand stopped her mid-sentence. “Yes, I know. We’re screwed.”
