This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.
The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Sensitive_Taste8785 on 2024-10-02 00:26:18+00:00.
The Gunniest Gun
The two alien warships drifted silently through the void, their sleek, angular forms bristling with energy weapons and defensive arrays. Captain Ry’Shal of the K’Tari Dominion fleet peered intently at the object on their sensors, his furred brow wrinkling in confusion.
“What… is that?” he murmured, pointing a clawed finger at the screen. His second-in-command, Sub-Commander Ver’Tash, leaned closer, eyes widening in disbelief.
“It appears to be… a ship, sir. A large one, but…” Ver’Tash trailed off, unsure of how to finish the thought.
“Primitive,” Captain Ry’Shal completed, his voice dripping with disdain. “That thing looks like a cargo container with engines slapped on the back. It’s just a massive rectangular block!”
Indeed, the object before them was a monstrosity of the most uninspired design. A perfect, rectangular block nearly a kilometer in length and a hundred meters wide and tall. It had no visible weapons, no discernible energy signature, and only a few sparse details to differentiate it from a giant space-borne brick. The only distinguishing feature was a small hole at the front—barely ten meters in diameter—set deep within a recessed port. The rest of the ship seemed to be nothing but thick layers of armor.
“Are we certain this is a ship?” Ver’Tash asked, his tone skeptical. “It could be… some kind of automated mining platform. Or perhaps a derelict?”
“I don’t care what it is,” Ry’Shal scoffed. “It’s blocking our path to the nebula. Open a channel. Let’s see if anyone’s foolish enough to answer.”
A few moments later, the screen on the bridge of the K’Tari vessel flickered to life. A human male appeared, seated in a cockpit surrounded by complex instrumentation. The man was dressed in an immaculately tailored suit, his hair slicked back, and his gaze was as sharp as a drawn blade. He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as he took in the sight of the K’Tari crew.
“This is Captain Julius Markov of the Gungnir. I don’t recognize your ship signatures, so I’ll go ahead and assume you’re just passing through. Why don’t you move along?”
Ver’Tash snorted in derision, his lip curling back to reveal sharp teeth. “Captain Markov, is it? Do you even realize what you’re piloting? That’s the most hideous thing I’ve ever seen. I’ve seen derelicts in better condition than that eyesore.”
“Yeah,” another K’Tari officer chimed in. “It’s a giant metal block! You know we can punch through something like that in a heartbeat, right? I bet it’s just filled with outdated mechanical systems. How do you even see where you’re going, human? You got a periscope?”
Julius’s expression darkened instantly. He stared at the screen for a long moment, his jaw tightening. Then, ever so slowly, he leaned back in his chair, folded his arms, and fixed the K’Tari officers with a look of absolute disdain.
“Excuse me?” he hissed, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Are you mocking my ship?”
Ry’Shal exchanged an amused glance with Ver’Tash. “Mocking? Oh, I think we’re being generous! That ship of yours is a joke. You’ve got nothing but raw metal and a tiny hole up front. You look like you’re driving a glorified battering ram.”
Julius’s face flushed red, and he gripped the armrests of his chair so hard that his knuckles turned white. “Gungnir,” he said slowly, “is a masterpiece of human engineering. There’s nothing like it in the entire galaxy. She’s sleek, she’s powerful, and she’s the embodiment of pure, unrelenting force.”
“Powerful?” Ver’Tash laughed. “You’re a kilometer-long brick! There’s no elegance, no design finesse. Look at us—two K’Tari cruisers bristling with advanced energy weapons and top-of-the-line shields. And you? You’re just a giant, armored turd floating through space.”
“Ah,” Julius murmured softly, his eyes narrowing. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with. You don’t understand true power. You see that tiny hole up front?”
“Yes,” Ry’Shal said slowly, his ears twitching in amusement. “What is that? Some kind of archaic projectile launcher? Or is it just for show?”
Julius’s lips curled into a thin, dangerous smile. “I call it ‘The flash before God.’ And you’re about to find out why.”
Before the K’Tari could respond, alarms flared across the bridge of their flagship. Energy readings spiked from the Gungnir, and a hum like the roar of a distant storm filled their sensors.
“Captain, they’re powering up some kind of—”
The words were cut off as a single, blinding beam of light erupted from the Gungnir’s front port. The railgun—concealed beneath almost fifty meters of reinforced armor—fired with a deafening crack that reverberated through the void. The projectile, a solid tungsten rod the size of a small building, accelerated to a significant fraction of the speed of light.
The K’Tari cruiser in its path had no time to react. Their shields, optimized for energy-based weapons and plasma bolts, flared uselessly as the kinetic slug tore through them like tissue paper. The projectile hit the ship’s core, and the entire vessel disintegrated in an instant—broken apart by the sheer force of the impact.
Where the cruiser had once been, there was now only a cloud of debris and a rapidly expanding field of superheated gas.
Ry’Shal stared at the display, his heart pounding in his chest. His mind struggled to comprehend what had just happened. One shot. A single shot, and his cruiser was gone.
“Impossible…” he whispered. “How… how did they—”
“Gunnery control,” Julius said softly, his smile widening into a grin that would have sent chills down the spines of any human who saw it. “Prepare another round. Spin up the railgun. Let’s see if our guests want a second helping.”
“Admiral, we have to retreat!” Ver’Tash shouted, his voice frantic. “Their weapon—”
“Not yet,” Ry’Shal growled. He glared at Julius, his eyes blazing with fury. “You think you can scare us off with one lucky shot? We have shields. We have weapons that will tear that ugly heap of metal apart! You won’t—”
“Fire.”
The Gungnir fired again. This time, Ry’Shal watched in horrified disbelief as the projectile exited the railgun. He could see it, moving impossibly fast—blazing toward his ship. There was no time to react, no time to issue orders.
The projectile hit the K’Tari flagship at the juncture of its central and forward compartments. The force of the impact split the ship in two, sending its shattered remains spiraling off into space. Explosions rippled along the hull, igniting fuel reserves and power cells in a cascade of brilliant fireballs.
Ver’Tash screamed, but his voice was drowned out by the roar of the ship’s alarms and the howling of the atmosphere venting into the vacuum.
“Retreat!” Ry’Shal shouted. “All ships, retreat! Get us out of here—”
But it was too late. The surviving K’Tari cruiser’s engines flared to life, and the ship spun away from the Gungnir, its crew desperate to escape. Julius watched calmly as the alien ship fled, his expression serene.
“Let them go,” he murmured, cutting the comm channel. “They’ll spread the word.”
He leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his perfectly combed hair. The Gungnir was as steady as a rock, the railgun quietly cooling in its armored housing. Julius allowed himself a small smile.
“Primitive, huh?” he muttered to himself. “We’ll see who’s primitive.”
He swiveled his chair, admiring the view of the now-empty system. The Gungnir’s polished, reinforced armor gleamed under the distant starlight. To him, it was a masterpiece. A testament to humanity’s enduring craftsmanship and its understanding of one simple truth:
Sometimes, all you really need… is the biggest damn gun in the universe.