"Some places are more sacred then others, captain" Storm-Blade replied walking around the table until she was towering over him, "as for our interest in these events, it is simply an offer to aid our allies," now her hand rested on her sword hilt, "or would you prefer we were enemies?"
"Storm-Blade." The Repbulic officer warned, the first words he had spoken since Evil had stepped through the door, The First-Race woman nodded, then took a step back, Jameston then turned to the Junk-bot's Avatar, "The reward for your services will be galactic standard for a single op, with bonuses for each confirmed capital ship kill, and a further bonus from the Republic for the safe return of our people on board the Icarus."
"As for transmissions, aside from the distress call, We've had nothing." Kelda supplied with a shrug, "it's possible their comms suffered too much damage and they were only able to send one message."
"The other possibility is Void-Brother activity." Storm-Blade added, still glaring down at the pirate, "and that does concern us."
"Well, your offer is gracious and your terms fine. "Godspeed", meatbags." said the avatar in an uncannily pleasant manner. With that, the sphere vaporized, while voice remained. It was then in an anomalously clean and registered manner, as if it were a Aerospace Traffic Control drone.
"I will be awaiting your deployment if we will be approaching the location in formation then. Standing by."
Alex stared at the sentient avatar for a minute unsure of what protocol to engage in. It seemed friendly enough but experience told him that first impressions were hardly a basis for judgment.
"Watch out, Shiny. The tin cans will make your ship prettier if you let them" Volkan suddenly spoke interrupting his thoughts.
Alex turned to face the avatar again
"You must be the Captain of the Quis, it's a pleasure I'm sure" he extended his hand but stopped halfway through as he observed the distinct lack of appendages on the avatar. "I give you my goodwill, Captain!" he nodded with a smile
"The Anubis and her crew have been assigned to assist Fort Norton in any way we can" he turned to address Stonewall. "However, it would be prudent to know who or what attacked an alliance destroyer and a republic ship before we all jumped in. Have you tried launching a remote probe into the area to conduct a remote scan for hostiles?"
Kelda shook her head, "Radiation in the sector is disrupting long range probes, as such we have only the paladin's report of "raiders" to go on. That's why we authorized the formation of this new group. We're not taking any chances."
The AI's avatar tilted it's head, as if listening to something, then turned towards the station leaders, "The Apollo has completed it's preparations and is ready to depart, shall i give it launch clearance?"
Stonewall nodded, as did the other two, then stood, addressing the men opposite as he did so"We've wasted too much time as it is, I'll have Kelda update you if we learn anything new, Dismissed."
"After me, Mr Green. If you two need me for any good reason, I will be on my ship" Said the Captain of the Gloria, walking out of the room. He would have saluted, if he had seen anything to salute. Like a pox, dealing with military always carried the risk you might catch it, and it was always disgusting to look at. Besides, this station was making the hairs on his neck stand up in protest. One of the escort was similarly spooked, for some reason, his walk was stiff, ready to burst into a run. "Mister Jack, is there a problem?" He asked the fidgety crewman.
"I've never been on a naval vessel, Sir" He said, sheepishly "It's... it's strange. I've lost friends to Navy".
"So have I, Mister Jack, so have I" Volkan said, turning back into the docking facilities "But just remember, in fairness, that they have certainly lost brothers to us"
Knight-Captain Isabelle Zephyr squeezed. And again.
Two more neat, round holes appeared, marking where her bullets had penetrated the target. She smiled a broad, happy smile, which warmed her face against the effect of her cold blue eyes and short blond hair. She stood in a pool of calm in the populous firing range, an effect both of her almost gratuitously happy visage and her new rank. The target in front of her was littered with holes, and almost all were within the inner circle.
She was getting better.
Thumbing the button for a new target, she adjusted the position of her helmet on the bench before her. Newly forged, it was an artwork of pure white, shaped like the head of a bird of prey. An unnecessary movement, but the touch of the symbol of her new place was comforting. As the next target rotated up into view, she let her mind wander. It eventually settled on the beginning of her time at Fort Norton, which had culminated in this most auspicious day.
After the fall of the 23rd, and the death of her captain, the Sisterhood had welcomed her, and as she learned new skills, she made new friends. Reloading her cream-white pistol, she thought of those early days, when the pain of loss was still sharp. She had risen quickly in the ranks of the Auxiliary, but her path had been jagged, and quite often she had been demoted for one misdemeanor or another. Or an ill-advised impulsive maneuver. And then there was that time with the mining station? Suffice to say she was quite happy with her eventual achievement.
Years of hard work had finally paid off: she had a ship of her own. And, she mused as she loosed another round toward the target, taking a long time to rise through the ranks had additional benefits. She knew far more than most Knight-Captains did on their promotion. Such experience would come in handy.
Or rather, it would come in handy if she was not too late to the mission briefing. She was enjoying her first free time for three weeks a bit much, and the clock was ticking, something her XO would remind her of as soon as he arrived.
Blessed Derrik Thruman burst through the door of the firing range, but the noise was lost in the sound of gunshots and in the bustle of happy people, of all organisations, enjoying some free time by shooting the ever-loving excrement out of flat recyclable things that couldn?t shoot back. ?Izzy!? he yelled into the maelstrom, ?Dammit, you?re meant to be getting flying orders!?
Then he spotted her, and striding over, tapped her on the shoulder. She glanced over her shoulder, then took out her ear protection so he could repeat himself.
?Crap.? Flip the safety, gun to the belt. Helmet in other hand, punch the button to signal she was done with the firing bay. Stride purposefully out the door, XO hard on her heels. Break into a jog in the empty corridor, give running orders to get the ship ready for immediate departure, just in case. Leave the XO, find a straight corridor, and run. Run like hell, and pray to all things sacred.
vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv
it was a measure of the fitness training that the Covenant had its servants undergo that she was able to catch her breath by jogging the last hundred meters. Pulling up to the proper door, she looked down the hallway at the retreating backs of a number of humans, distinctly separated into two groups. Then the door opened and she stepped inside, schooling her face to neutrality.
vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv
Covenant of the Light Class 3B (Cruiser) Vessel
The Porcelain Blade
CO: Auxilary Knight-Captain Isabelle "Izzy" Zephyr
XO: Blessed Derrik Thruman
Hard points:
1x ESM pod
2x point defenses
3x torpedo tubes
Izzy was XO to Captain Rogueshadows in the heroic 23rd fleet, but was away on a retrieval mission when his ship, the Crow's Nest was destroyed. During the Resistance, she undertook training to enlist with the Sisterhood, and successfully joined their growing numbers of human auxiliaries. However, her temper, impulsiveness and disregard for regulations significantly slowed her rise, though she learned quickly and was very effective in her chosen field. Thus, 30 years later, she has only just reached the rank of Knight-Captain. The Porcelain Blade is a recent addition to the fleet, and Izzy is her first Captain.
Well this is all very amusing. But we cannot lull ourselves into a perpetual preparation for deployment. Some time or other we're going to have to form up and jump. Or are we supposed to jump at will, Harrab?
"Well, it seems that we have little choice but to eyeball the problem ourselves!" Alex sighed after a long pause. He stood at attention and saluted,
"If there is any last minute info that we should know about...well, I'll be on board the Warstar Anubis. I'll await the launch sequence of the Apollo before departing!" with a final look around Alex exited the briefing room.
-----------------------------------
"James?. James do you read me?". Alex's voice crackled through the comms.
"Affirmative, what's the SitRep?"
"We are running an escort for a recovery ship into the Sunwell system. An Alliance destroyer and a Republic ship has come under attack. Unknown source. Situation of the crews or the ships are unclear. We are ordered to jump in with the Pirates and proved whatever assistance we can!"
"Sir?. We are working with the pirates?...did I read you right?"
"Yup, Volkan and the Quis are assigned to this mission just as we are!. We treat them as friendlies for the duration of this mission!"
"Who's the Quis?"
"Robots..an AI system..I'm not really sure and there is no time to explain, we have orders to haul ass, so we need to ship out ASAP!. Have O'Reilly prep the engines and the FTL again, also check with our Wing Commander about the status of our fighter squadrons. If they need anything, extra weapons or extra fuel, now would be the time to stockpile on any surpluses."
"Aye captain, I'll run an ordinance check now!. We should be set to depart the minute you step aboard sir..I got green across the board"
"Very well!. See you on the bridge in five, Alex out!
"Alliance tower, this is Alliance Recovery Ship Apollo, all sections have reported in, we are ready for station separation on your mark."
"Roger Apollo, Disengaging docking clamps in three, two, one, mark."
The Grey cruiser started to drift await from the huge metal beast that was Fort Norton, the name Apollo shining gold on it's hull as it engaged it's main egines and turned it's bow away from the station.
"Apollo clear and under own power, all systems in the green, thanks for your hospitality Norton."
"You're more then welcome Apollo, stay safe out there, Tower out."
The recovery ship was nothing special to look at as it powered away from the station to the staging area, a standard Alliance cruiser with only a single heavy cannon and point defense network to protect itself, the rest of the hull was filled with medical bays, repair shops and a launch bay for it's rescue ships and tug boats.
"Recovery Ship Apollo calling the 23rd Task Force, standing by for formation orders and hyperspace jump co-ordinates. We're ready to go."
"Then let us be off. I'll head off first since my engines are the slowest of you."
The Quis, undoubtedly dwarfed by its peers in size, vanished in a blur of dark gray and a flash of green off into the infinite.
After it disappeared, it messaged back one last time, giving evidence that the engines were still warming up to hyperspace, the autonomous tone growing gradually deeper, slower and more garbled.
"Meeet up withhhhh yooouu iihnnnnn ttwoooooo hoooooooourrrrrrrrr----"
Flying through space at incredulously irresponsible speeds, JB did what somehow made his almost perpetually frantic AI systems smooth out, as if someone did a debug sweep or poured liquid nitrogen on the central processor. Taking pictures going faster than the speed of light. Granted they either were solid black, solid white, or incomprehensible blurs, but somehow it gave a streamlining effect to its thoughts.
"ARC Vessels - Currently In Service
Salvaging & Research
Recovery
Ulysses type 5-10
List by Date of Commision
3310 ARTE 19.092
ARCS GS-1016 Apollo
Personelle - Classified
Service Record - In Good Standing
Maintenance Record - Vessel Ready to be Underway - Last Checkup 3309 ARTE 09.093 11:32am
Operations - Currently In Service and Underway
Standing - In Good Standing
ARCS MS-0723 Gloria Futurabas
Personelle - Reserved
Service Record - Class 4 Criminal, Wanted by Galactic Authority of Civil Aeronautics Defense, Galactic Police Force, Alliance/Republic/Covenant Public Security, Volgron Interstellar Defense Service
Maintenance Record - Reserved
Operations - Currently In Service and Underway
Standing - Classified
Gloria Futurabas
Make: Cruiser
Crew: Unknown, Est. 40<200
Type: Assualt/Carrier
Warrant: Capital Disobedience, Unsafe Piloting, Endangerment of Public Aerospace, Endangerment of Private Aerospace, Piracy, Illegal interception engagement in an Anti-Fighter Zone, Cooperate Trespassing, Kidnapping, Murder in the 1st Degree [86 counts, gross Crew], Manslaughter [23 counts, Gross Crew], Destruction of State Property, Destruction of Military Property, Jaywalking
Status: Not in Captivity; Armed and Very Dangerous
?Star-Mother protect you, Knight-Captain, and see you safely home.?
At the door, Izzy turned back and bowed. ?Thank you, Cannoness. Star-Mother protect us all.?
In the hall, Izzy began trotting onwards to the docks. Well, that wasn?t too bad. she thought as she sent the contents of the data slate ahead to her XO, with a flag for Urgent, and began scanning. Pair of ships, attacked, one sends a call for help. No other communication. Not a good sign. No probes returned? Definitely not good.
Friendlies? one Alliance Destroyer; one junkbot Frigate, with the text, ?call it JB?; one pirate Cruiser, the Gloria Futurabus, Captained by one Amadeus Volkan. And there was an additional note? he was ex 23rd fleet. Funny, she didn?t remember any captain by that name, nor in the resistance afterward, when she had been re-introduced to a number of other personnel from the 23rd. Oh well.
Quite the mish-mash of a fleet. And known space was at peace, so it wasn?t like there was a shortage of idle troops, as evidenced by the full shooting range. No, more likely the powers that be were unwilling to risk too many of their own. Only natural, really.
She reached the dock where her ship, the Porcelain Blade, waited her maiden voyage and spared a moment to gaze over it?s gleaming white surface. This was the way to remember a ship, straight out of the factories, with no scars or burns to mar its surface.
?Right, boys, inside, we?re leaving.? She dismissed the pair of Auxiliaries standing guard at the open airlock, remembering their faces so she could find out their names later. It would take a while, but she fully intended to know every one of her personnel by name and face.
Striding down the hallway, she hooked her communicator over her ear, connecting to the shipwide network. Not that many would be connected to it yet, but her XO would. Always was. ?Derrik??
?Read you, Captain?
?Get us moving. You got the mission specs??
?Affirmative.?
?You?ve got a vector on our Freindlies??
?Affirmative. The Junkbot is already away.?
?Good. We?ll follow? Isabell switched to the channel that would let her speak out of the opublic announcement system.
?Stations, please. The Blade will be leaving Fort Norton just as soon as I reach the Bridge. Hope you all had some fun on shore leave, ?cause we?re off into the depths of space.? And she imitated the standard recruitment slogan of the Alliance Navy. ?To see the galaxy, meet interesting people, and then shoot them!?
The Porcelain Blade tore a hole in the universe, a purple maw that swallowed the ship.
"All fighter wings are reporting in, sir!" Wing Commander Tolkan spoke upon seeing the Captain enter through the airlock.
"I've reported to the XO that we are all fueled up and stocked to the brim with ammunition. If things goes south, we'll be ready to the hold the line"
Alex looked up with a smile, "Very good, that's what I like to hear. Now resume your station and seal the launch bay bulkheads. We are going to warp again!".
"Captain, we have disengaged from Norton. We are currently in a decaying orbit at 0.2G lateral-alpha-002-hash-three. Scanners indicate a carrier and Covenant ship departing into hyperspace. The repair ship Apollo is warming it's hyperdrive engines and is preparing for an FTL jump". The XO's voice came through the communication channel.
Alex made his way to the bridge which by now was a hive of activity. "Covenant ship came out of nowhere. Registration number matches that of the Porcelain Blade, commanded by an Isabelle Zephyr; rank of Knight-Captain. Looks like another ship joined the fleet" James continued as Alex stood beside the war table.
"All we need now is the Republic and we have a party!" Alex chuckled. "What's the status of the fleet then?"
"Two ships away, not sure about the Gloria Futurabus, her engines are still at idle. Do we wait for her to leave?"
"Negative James, we don't have the luxury to keep an eye on their every move. Let's jump ahead and scout the region before the Apollo arrives...Mr. O'Reilly!, sound the alert to all decks and get us out of here when ready!". Alex tugged at his shirt and brushed off an imaginary speck of dust.
"Aye sir, all decks are standing by for jump" The helmsman responded as he flicked a series of switches on his console.
"Engaging FTL engines...Now!"
The Warstar Anubis sped off into the distance before disappearing from view altogether as it entered a hyperspace tunnel bound for the Sunwell System.
The tiny fleet emerged from hyperspace in a protective formation around the Apollo, instantly shields flared as radiation brushed their surface.
The Apollo wasted no time: "Apollo to all ships, we're picking up the Icarus's automated beacon, they are currently in a stable orbit above Matilda, but they are not responding to our hails-"
"Inbound contacts from six o'clock, signal indicates Assassin Strike-fighters."
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Far behind the fleet, three squadrons of strike-fighters de-cloaked as they approached their targets and armed their weapons, above them flew a squadron of escorting interceptors
As black as night under the warm glow of the twin suns, the triangular symbol etched across their hulls identified them for all to see:
Void-Brother.
You are under attack, the protection of Apollo is a primary objective, as is recovering survivors from the Icarus, Secondary importance is finding and destroying the Void-Brother carrier. it will be difficult, as none of your ships can detect stealth fields yet.
Also. due the the high radiation in the sector, strike-craft will be unable to operate close the the Icarus.
Within the flash of the Quis being received, it automatically pinged 15 light-seconds.
"Priority engagement, four inbound units, 7 interceptors, 15 strike-craft inbound at attack speed. Weapons primed, oversight active.. Void-Brothers are instantly intent on giving us a warm welcome, are they?"
JB set the channel to the incoming Void vessels.
"This is th-"
"*Snarls & Cacophonic screaming*"
With that, JB ended the transmission.
"Charming. Weapons are hot, deploy priority 7 override 0." With mechanical precise articulation the two flak cannons swiveled into aiming at the collective location of the strike craft and the interceptors respectively. Within the labyrinthine complexes of the wiring and mechanical frames, wiring, processors and the occasional concealed compartment, medium sections of the keel paneling folded away to reveal the dock, bathed in an unnatural aqua glow. The 10 strike-craft disengaged and with instinctive commandment began flying in a uniform pattern around the Apollo, two remaining hovering around the Quis itself. The paneling immediately sealed up again and hid within the retracting greebles and devices. Every one of them facing an incoming craft.
"Inbound hostiles; bearing 6-8-3, carem 1-4-1. Sensors read three strike squadrons and an interceptor squadron moving at attack speeds. Designation, Void-Brother attack craft" O'Reilly looked up from his tactical station and faced the captain.
"Go to red alert!" Alex shot back, "Activate the point defenses and bring our flak cannons to bare on the interceptor squadron. Arm the torpedo tubes and swap the kinetic warheads for the proximity warheads. Get our ESM online and linkup with all friendly ships in the sector and then bring us about to the Apollo. Everyone look sharp, this isn't war games anymore!"
As ordered the helmsman decreased the distance between the Warstar and the Apollo, once alongside the recovery ship a series of alarms rang out from the destroyer alerting the Anubis's attack squadrons to prepare for rapid deployment.
"We are in position sir!. Shields are up and point defense systems are online!. Gun deck is reporting that it has acquired a firing solution on the Void brother interceptor squadron and the forward torpedo bay is awaiting trajectory orders" reported O'Reilly.
"Very well, commence a flak barrage on the interceptor squadron and simultaneously launch four torpedoes at full spread on an intercept course with the hostile strike squadrons. Set warheads to pursue and detonate at close range." Alex ordered the crew about with clockwork precision. Turning to James he said, "That should spread them out a bit but we are going to need our birds in the air"
James simply nodded,
"Launch bay, this is the XO; Alpha squadron you are cleared for launch. Proceed to and maintain a defensive perimeter around the Apollo. Bravo and Echo squadrons, launch and hold position around the Anubis, once the warheads are away break formation and engage the strike squadrons. You're orders are to pursue and engage the hostiles, whenever possible herd enemy craft into our firing solution but do not stray too close yourselves. Good luck out there boys and girls, XO out!"
"All stations, standby on my mark" Alex said staring at the sensor screen.
Several red blips indicated the Void brother vessels and their approach vectors. A blue line that stretched between the Anubis and the red blips indicated the destroyers flak barrage range. He waited and waited till finally he ordered;
"All stations, execute!"
There was a flurry of activity from the Anubis all of a sudden, its flak cannons roared to life firing round after round of high explosive incendiary shells towards the incoming interceptor squadrons and elsewhere along the ship three strike fighter squadrons emerged from its concealed launch bay and took up predetermined holding positions. From the front of the ship the torpedo tubes spewed out four guided warheads that took flight in a long winding arc before stabilizing and heading out towards the hostile strike fighter squadrons.
"Inbound contacts from six o'clock, signal indicates Assassin Strike-fighters."
?Right. Comms, set up battlenet. Helm, take us closer to the Icarus. The radiation will help keep strike craft off us, and we want to be well positioned to defend it and the Apollo. Prime the Point Defenses!?
Obediently, the Porcelain Blade followed the Apollo toward where the Icarus hung seemingly suspended, and the ESM pod began feeding tactical and targeting information to the rest of the fleet.
?Knight-Captain, those Assassin craft don?t have interstellar capacity. Not even interplanetary. There?s got to be a Carrier ship.?
?Thank you, scopes. Start scanning for irregularities within their supposed operating range.?
The void-brother Interceptors broke formation as the flack barrage tore one of their number apart and turned another into a brief comet of plasma,
below them the strike-fighters opened up on the approaching torpedoes with their cannons, blowing them apart well before they could cause damage and started their attack run on the Apollo.
The 23rd's fighter screen intercepted them before they could launch their bombs, dissolving into small groups of dueling fighters, neither side able to pin down their counterparts.
Then the Void-brother interceptors arrived.
three strike-craft from the Warstar Anubis were destroyed in the initial volley of cannon fire and guided missiles along with one from the Quis, allowing a single Assassin squadron to break through and attack the Apollo itself.
Point defences aboard the Rescue ship and the Porcelain Blade opened up in a desperate attempt to fend them off, but due to the nearby dog-fight, they fired too late, and plasma bombs tore several rail-guns from the hull.
Their attack complete, the unengaged squadron banked away and activated their cloak, vanishing from the fleet's radar screen.
"This is Apollo, we've just lost our point defenses, almost in range of the Icurus."
"New contact, its' the Paladin, it's dead in the water with its shields down and life support offline."
Although the fleet's strike craft are on even footing with the Assassins, the Void-Interceptors will tip the balance in their favor if not engaged with either other Interceptors or Corvettes. any flack fired into the dogfight will damage both sides.
The Apollo will shortly dock with the battleship-size Icarus to search for survivors. The Paladin has gone dark with no power readings and lethal doses of radiation flooding it's corridors.
Porcelain Blade- there is an inconsistent energy reading just of the Paladin's port side, investigate at your discretion.
"Priority 9, external casualty." (Which was the JB's way of saying "Now you've pissed me off.")
"Level 9 weapons action permission. Reregister, unload and compound slug fire. Allowance Dugfire & Toxin. Production begin reassembly, copy #3, stock and process clone. Initiate. Swoop and reiterate."
Inside the greviously dark and cacophonic designs of the Quis, the fighter production module glowed to life to restore the lost fighter, or at least what had been backed up as a blueprint. The flak cannons withdrew their shells from the ammunition feeds to be replaced with solid slugs, shells that would be about as accurate, lower velocity and about as dangerous than their previous counterparts. It was a dicey and unpredictable practice to convert flak guns to short-work medium cannons, but at least they made up for their comparable shortcomings by the standard benefits or flak; firing speed and rapid ability to rotate the turret.
One by one as the strike fighters saw fit through the fighting in a small individual relief each, they made a mad dash to the Quis for a quick re-armament- refueled and loaded with an extra 200 kilograms of the DugFire & Toxin missiles- missiles designed to penetrate targets, forcibly attack and control autopilot systems while filling the occupant's living space with toxic gas and overriding life support systems. After each one loaded themselves out they shot back into the fray.
?Captain, there?s one major irregularity within the search radius, portside by five or six clicks.? Scopes announced on the bridge of the Porcelain Blade.
?Bring it up on screen. Helm, bring us around to the bearing." the Captain responded.
obediently, the Helmsman swiveled the gleaming forward face of the Blade toward the irregularity. "It looks about the right size." Izzy mused as it rotated into view. magnified on screen, it was clearly visible, as slight movement of the Blade caused the stars seen through the irregularity to dance and swirl. it was rather pretty, really, but Izzy was more concerned with the possibility of it disgorging more fighters. the Fleet's fighters were having enough trouble already.
When the unmoving glitch was squarely within her sights, Captain Zephyr gave the order:
"Fire torpedoes!?
Three black lumps rode away on chariots of fire.
?If they?re blown out of the black, we know we?re on to something.? Izzy explained to Derrik, who replied, ?There?s always the chance we hit something.?
The Captain brought up fleetwide comms. ?we have a possible position for the carrier. transferring co-ords now. Cpt. McNamara, perhaps we can get a better fix if we use both ESM pods? At it's current position, we can monitor it without turning blind to the fighters.?
I was unhappily preoccupied for a few days. Between that and my growing ire for off-topic, I haven't been around of late. I am now back. Reading what I missed now.
EDIT: I'm up to speed, posting now.
"Ah, combat" Evil said, watching the fighters dance and spin... and die. "Ah, Void-brothers" He sighed, watching the cloaks flicker on and off in the darkness of space. "Ah" He said, as the interceptors cut fleet fighters from the sky. He couldn't do much with the Gloria, she was a ship/ship warbird, a killer of anything up to a battleship, with some luck. Still, it might be fun to loose the heavy guns into the mix...
"Sir, that would very likely kill our own men as well" Adams warned, reading his thoughts, and noting his hand inching towards fire control. "And while I admire the sentiment of wanton violence as much as always, it might be better directed through our own fighters". Volkan frowned, before grunting and sending the order. He didn't like his interceptors, the pricks, they flew like madmen and cost a mint in repairs. He probably should have trained them differently.
WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
"Tyrants to deploy in 240 seconds" Said the comms in the pilots quarters, and with a chorus of groans and whoops the squad rolled out of bed. Fourteen bodies, the men and women of Tyrant squad, with a reputation for insubordination on a ship built on creative insubordination. Daddy's favorites, however, could get away with anything... mostly.
They didn't have names, not really. They had names for their birds, and they were their birds. They had grown up in the birds, lived in the birds, they would die in the birds. They had been taken from among the orphans of the pirate cartels in big asteroid fields, where children could fly at age six and were expected to fly well. Volkan didn't speak about his past, but he knew his way around such fields. He knew that what these kids wanted was a flying gun and something to shoot at. He had given them that, and a future. Some people called it sweet, until they met the Tyrants, and before Amadeus punched them in the mouth for rank pussyness. They weren't children anymore, but on the ground they might as well have been.
Flight suits were pulled on and sealed, helmets fashioned into animal heads clipped onto giggling faces, and the squad ran and bounded gleefully down the hall into the launching bay, where the ships stood:
Long, strong and sexy. Described as such by the engineers who created them, because they were that sort of engineer, the Huntsmen craft were almost solid crazy. They pilots crawled up their craft, rolling into the tiny cockpits, straddling the seats on their stomachs like a motorbike and fiddling with the switches and settings. They didn't speak, they weren't alive yet, but they were close. They fingered the parts of their machine that liked to be touched, caressed the firing mechanisms and made the missile tubes click and twitch in excitment. Between their legs and under their bodies ran the engine that filled 50% of the entire bird, the rest was mostly gun.
Their helmets were plugged in, and then they had their eyes. The optics along the fighter stuffed sensory imput into their minds, and they breathed and shuddered as they started to think properly again. Arms shoved into control sleeves, legs settled onto throttles and pedals. Thighs were clipped into control harnesses and the nervous system was jacked into the feedback array. The technicians leapt back as the sleek and solid cockpits slammed down, the windowless craft rolled forward into launch readiness, gripped by the loading mechanism and jostled into position. Thrusters along the craft sputtered and jetted prematurely as the rails clipped in. And... and... and... launch...
It was highly illegal, but for some reason the Tyrants never complained about nervous slaving.
WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
In the air, with proper bodies, the Tyrants jetted out from the launch tube on the belly of the Gloria, pointed forward to stream out from under the nose of the craft. They banked and spun, some flipping nose over nose as they rejoiced in the freedom. They flicked and tumbled, speaking in motions as they raced out to play around their carrier.
"One here" Said One, his voice coming in over the command center vox. Volkan smiled, he felt better with the kids in the air.
"Two here" said Two, echoing her brothers words. "Second flight ready, we're better than first flight you know".
"I know, Two, you're up three kills overall, but First might catch up if you don't do your very best" Said Volkan, his voice soothing and soft "And I know doing your best is fun, because it means you fly the fastest and the cleverest". They were smart, really. Intelligent and cunning and trained to stupid levels of precision for any possible situation, but they did it because they liked it. Volkan approved, it was why he he had flown when he had flown.
"The enemy has their own fighters. Interceptors like you. They think they're better, they think they're fast and clever." He said, growling and lowering his voice as he spoke. The ships snarled and spun, baying at the leash to teach these stupid-heads what fast and clever was. Better than Tyrants? Three howled, his wolfs-head icon flashing red as he twitched to break formation. "Show them the meaning of skill"
"Tyrants" Volkan teased, pausing to watch the birds squirm on the display. They knew what was coming, they had heard it a million times before... and he always... made... them... wait...
Half dog, half child, all ship. Tyrant squad are the opressors of the sky, not so much trained as encouraged, the pilots are a highly illegal blend of machine and man made possible by nerual slaving, feeding sensory input from the ship as well as their own bodies, serving as living processors for the Huntsman warbirds. They live to hunt, and play, and to make the Gloria happy. To them, space is the only reality, they are only alive while in the void, they treat time on deck as dreams, time spent sleeping in an unreal fantasy.
Also, they're crazy. Evil had a reputation for brutality and imagination in the air, he has since been forgotten in favour of his finest creation. The Huntsmen are covered in thrusters, letting them jink and spin in the air, turn completely in any direction while hanging still in space, and are designed to flip like a ninja. A ship on the tail of a Tyrant is often highly suprised to see the Tyrant spin in midair to put a pair of infernal rounds in their cockpit. Personal space and common sense are illusions, risk comes with reward, and they live to show one another up with feats of daring.
Like the Gloria, the Tyrants pride themselves on knowing how to use momentum and angles of fire to become immortal.
Their lungs are engines, their eyes are optics, their heart is plasma and their wrath is twin barrels of hot death.
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