The last ship of a quartetof Mollies exploded with a final salvo. This was Rage's twelfth some-odd trip to the nobium fields of Leeds and the Mollies had been just waiting for him there, knocked him out of cruise and pounced. But four to one were winnable odds, long as the four against him were mere fighters... He switched off the hologram-targeting system and the asteroid field melted into the bridge again. Just in time, too... he looked out the bridge window and saw a huge structure filling the expanse of it. It was the BMM Satellite. Somehow he had been knocked into a collision course with it during the fight... and his shields were weakened from the skirmish, he didn't know if they would hold! He slammed the maneuvering stick straight forward and to the right, firing thrusters to clear his tail... it looked like it was going to work... missing the deep space monitor by a meter or less...
Suddenly something ripped into his starboard quarter and exploded. ...a belated torpedo that had been fired by the last fighter before he died. Rage hadn't seen the torpedo but it had sure seen him. The explosion tore a hole in his hull and destroyed two turrets. On the bridge, it had ancillary effects. It picked up the pilot like a rag-doll and threw him bodily against the starboard bulkhead. He fell to the deck and lay seeping blood from a nasty gash at the base of his skull. And for the second time in six months, darkness claimed him.
But he wasn't out for long this time. He awoke with salt and copper in his mouth and realized he was tasting his own blood. A small pool of it cushioned his head. He picked himself up drunkenly and staggered to his feet. Obviously the artificial gravity generators had held up under the attack, as did life support. He checked the damage assessment. Hull damaged but not critically. He would have to replace some weapons but no other systems seemed hurt. Blood dripped down his back reminding him of his personal injury. He grabbed his jumpsuit arm at the shoulder and unceremoniously ripped it off... using it as a make-shift bandage. There was a med-kit somewhere but he needed to staunch the flow of blood immediately, didn't want to waste time looking for it. With no copilot, he couldn't afford to go 'veg' out here from blood loss... he had already used up all his luck in that department on a previous occasion. The chances of it turning out with the same happy result was remote at best.
The blood staunched, Rage plopped down heavily into his command chair. Leeds again? He hated that planet. Well, not much choice. He could try one of the stations but... Leeds was his best bet for quality medical attention. He sighed and plotted a course.