Log:Not Your Daddy's TIE Fighters
Not Your Daddy's TIE Fighters
OOC Date: January 1, 2016
Location: Serenno
Participants: General Hux as GM, Fuze
The three-dimensional image of General Hux fills the left half of the holoprojector in the pilot's ready room. "Alpha Squadron. Your wing destroyed all initial responses to our arrival, clearing the way for our first ground operations on Serenno." The planet appears next to him. "At present, we see limited military action at only two airbases. Nothing has yet breached the atmosphere. You are going to ensure that Base 2A never launches an attack that will."
Two red dots appear on the world, one by the coast under a cliff. The map zooms in on this spot, which begins to flash. "There is limited anti-air to be found, but they may possess starfighters out of scanning range. Be prepared to face resistance, but I am sure it is nothing you cannot handle." Hux clasps his hands behind his back. "For the Empire."
SOON: The fighters of Alpha Squadron are formed into a wide vee behind their squadron commander, skimming low enough over the water that a spray is kicked up behind them. Scanners indicate the base is just over the horizon. No signals on sensors, yet.
"Remember the plan. I want Wing One coming in from the left, followed by Wing Two from the right. Wing Three circles at 5,000 meters as backup. An initial strafing run for maximum shock and awe," FZ-4792's voice is calm and cold as she splits her squadron into three wings of four ships; she's leading Wing 1. "Remember, come round into an anticlockwise orbit around the perimeter so we don't have any blue on blue midairs. Wing Three, your job is air cover. Wings One and Two, pick your targets. Weapon hard mounts, shield generators, ships on the ground, troop clusters." At the split point the twelve fighters split into the three wings of four, two banking to left and right to come in staggered and obliquely, wing three rapidly gaining altitude. "Shields front. Weapons live," she commands crisply.
Alpha Five and Alpha Nine's replies are quick and repetitive. "Copy," comes the baritone voice of Alpha Five, as he leads his flight of four into its own smaller vee off to starboard.
Alpha Nine's voice is unmistakably feminine even over the comm. She manages to sound enthusiastic even with the clipped syllable "Copy!" as her flight begins its ascent. "Ants are scurrying, Alpha One," she adds, from her higher vantage point.
The gunner behind you confirms, "Weapons hot," as the instruments confirm what your eyes see: a base with a dilapidated generator, a number of previously-mothballed Z-95s, a select few snubnose fighters of independent manufacture, and most importantly four powered up turrets. Two look meant to be used on ground vehicles, but they are gamely aimed upward towards the approaching TIEs, accuracy be damned. Three Z-95s have just gone airborne, moving to intercept Alpha Nine's group.
"Alpha Nine, three inbound bogies," Fuze intones crisply. "Engaging turrets." She slams the TIE fighter into a tightening turn, allowing the gunner maximum visibility of the target. Well, slam is really the wrong word; it's done with serpentine grace, using the fighter rather abusing the fighter. Her three wingmen have difficulty in emulating the move, leading to reduced firing times for their poor gunners, but she's good. As the explosions splinter off her deflector shields she glances at the panel before her, gauging by instinct how to redline the power without overloading the engines. "Alpha Three, Alpha Four, take that second turret," she snaps.
The two fighters so ordered break further left and redirect their fire. The heavy turrets rip chunks out of the second turret's armor. Just before they pass it by, a shot hits the barrel of the gun itself, and the top blows skyward between the pair. "Kill confirmed," Alpha Three's smooth, almost mechanical voice comes in. The two continue their run in parallel, leaving a trail of explosions and molten pavement in their wake.
Alpha One's own swath of destruction begins with the long focused fire on the second anti-air turret. The laser bolts knock holes clear through the gun eventually. It is disabled beyond use, but there is no explosion, just smoke. Other targets of opportunity include a Y-Wing in good repair, a museum piece if ever there were one. But your fire leads the left engine to explode.
"Alpha One, Alpha Five is beginning attack run." The fighters can be seen curving back in towards the base.
"Alpha One, you have a tail," Alpha Nine's voice cuts through. "Z-95, one hundred and ten degrees, high."
Fuze pulls her TIE fighter into a near-vertical climb, engaging emergency power. Engines screaming, she shoots up towards the incoming Z-95. It takes nerves of steel to take hit upon hit on her forward shields, if the Z-95 is firing. Even as she climbs she's glancing to left and right. "Alpha Two, with me. Alpha Three, Four, continue your ground attack." Is she trying to ram the Resistance ship? No, it's not a hideous game of chicken. Almost at the last moment she flips the TIE around a hundred and eighty degrees, throwing all the power to the /rear/ shields and giving the gunner a clear shot. Alpha Two swerves round Fuze's ship, able only to fire off a few shots at the passing Z-95.
The thrum can be felt as the turret draws power and fires. The Z-95 is less maneuverable and slower, a combination that proves deadly as Alpha 2's couple of shots knocks out the weak deflector shields, giving your ship's a straight shot into the cockpit and left engine. For the sake of thoroughness, your gunner fires again, leaving three smoking pieces of the fighter to fall towars the beach below. "You're clear, Alpha One."
The TIE Fighters of the second flight knock out one of the ground turrets and the old generator, whose explosion is particulary irridescent. Alpha Nine's overwatch group hs eliminated two of the three fighters from the first wave; you covered the third. Alpha Nine's voice cuts in again, "Alpha One, my scanners are picking up what looks like retractable blast door up one of the ravines. Visual scan confirms. Part of this base is underground."
"Alpha Two, Three, Four, on me. Wing Two, continue the strafing. Wing Three, continue your cover." The agile TIE fighter curves into the ravine, setting up for a straight-in strafing run. "Shields forwards. Don't go crazy and fly in anywhere you can't turn round and fly back out of," she reminds her wingmen. She's coming in low and fast, using the ground for cover. On Alpha two, one of the sail panels clips a tree and the craft nearly swings into the ground; the pilot's reaction causes it to pull up high and slow, revealing the underbelly of the craft. Fuze catches the manouvre in her rear mirror and makes a mental note to chew out the pilot...if he survives.
Coming up ahead is the door, quite closed and with mud daubed across it. Alpha Nine did well to spot it. The limited aerial resistance probably assisted, there. Your flight, minus the errant and recovering Alpha Two, open fire, pulsing destruction into the durasteel blocking the way, but the door stubbornly refuses to open, though sections glow white hot, and the center melts, leaving a very narrow aperture - too narrow even for a TIE Fighter, but not too narrow for a warhead. There is artificial light ahead, and sensors confirm the presence of powered up starfighters within.
Communications chatter is tight. An announcement of Alpha Six taking a hit from the ground-targeting laser turret and losing shields is quickly followed by Alpha Five, Seven, and Eight concentrating fire and destroying that last turret. Mowing down tents, a few ground vehicles, and the maintenance equipment, Alpha Five reports, "All targets destroyed. Infantry still scattering. Orders?"
Alpha Nine's chimes in with a chipper, "Skies clear."
"Wing Two, formate behind Wing One. Alpha Ten, Eleven, Twelve, formate behind Wing Two. Alpha Nine, remain high and keep your eyes peeled. We're going straight in down the ravine and pouring everything we have into the center section of that blast door. Shields front, pull up at the last moment." Fuze's voice is cold and crisp. "Go vertical, roll back, and follow me in for a second run." So the stream of TIE fighters forms up in single file, zigging and zagging down the ravine behind the nimble fighter belonging to FZ-4792. As she approaches, the forward-firing armaments on the TIE open up. Her thumb kisses the button on the control yoke. "Missiles away," the gunner confirms in a low, flat voice. At the very last moment she puts the TIE into a screaming vertical climb, side panels almost kissing the rock face. Those ships behind her might not be so precise, and a little sloppiness either way will be deadly. Her TIE rolls back into an inverted loop, dropping down behind Alpha Twelve to continue the circle of death.
They are not as daring and pull up a bit earlier, but Alpha Squadron pours between twelve and twenty-two missiles into the interior of the subterranean hangar. The rest of the base appears utterly destroyed; there are pieces for scavengers, and plenty of bodies for the crows.
There is limited visual scanning and some obscuring of the sensors, but they're all you have to tell what's going on within the hidden part of the base. As Alpha One makes her second run towards the blast door, she can see smoke and fire within, and the sensors confirm much fewer power sources inside. With the door curled and half-melted, any ship inside is going to have a nigh-impossible time getting out.
"Concentrate your fire on the rocks above the blast doors," Fuze commands, her voice crisp, and targets another missile on the overhanging outcrop. Her intent, of course, is to bury the base. If there's no other exit, those within can gradually starve to death, and if there's a bolt hole they can be picked off as they exit. Lancing beams of death pew-pew out from the TIE fighter, slamming into the hundreds of tons of rock over the doorway. "Alpha Nine, go to thermal. If there are any other boltholes I want to know about them." A hard task for the orbiting cover fighter, but if the female pilot finds such a rat hole, due credit will be given - Fuze is not one to withold praise where praise is due.
"Copy, Alpha One." The fusillade of blaster fire and a few missiles cause an avalanche of unnatural proportions. The blast door cannot be reached without a resourceful and well-supplied demolitions team or turbolaser fire, now.The task done, the fighters begin to divert towards their respective flight groups as they wait for orders.
"There's nothing this side of the cliffs," Alpha Nine reports. "Ten, Eleven, Twelve, remain on high cover-" With a bit of initiative and a great burst of speed, Alpha Nine's fighter cruises low past the cliffs, letting its scanners get close to the ground. It's about twenty seconds before the report comes, "Gunner spots a hot rock. Camoflauged exit?" she conjectures, sending the data in burst transmission to the other members of the squadron. It is a rock, more of a boulder, and it is unnaturally bright on thermal imaging. Given the lack of seismic and volcanic activity, it stands to reason the heat is from the burning within the base.
FZ-4792 says, "Good job, Alpha Nine. Wings Two and Three, pull back. My Wing, missiles on that boulder." She brings her TIE almost to a hover some four hundred yards distant to the boulder, and with a whoosh her last missile is released to streak across towards the hot rock in question. It'll soon be a hotter rock. Then she's banking to the right, breaking off to allow the rest of her wing a crack at the portal. "Wings Two and Three, keep your eyes open for any last remnants of fighter support."
The rockets pulverize the boulder. If it was a secret exit, it is no longer. The TIEs circling the area find no hostile activity. "All clear, Alpha One."
The intact flight returns to the Finalizer in exultant mood, most likely, but FZ-4792 is her usual crisp, cold self. "Good job, Alpha Wing" she announces over comms as they glide towards the docking bay. "Mission accomplished. There'll be some Militia scum suffocating underground for a while." It's public comms, so the cold-hearted bitch keeps it brief and to the point. Only when the celebratory pilots are back in the privacy of the debrief room does she unleash upon them. "I'm not happy about the crispness of some of those manouvres," she announces coldly. "I saw exposed underbellies. I saw sloppy formations. All of you get back in the Sims and re-run the encounter, and this time make sure you tighten things up. I want full reports on my desk in four hours." That'll put paid to any immediate celebration. Still, she doesn't call anyone out specifically - nobody is named and shamed, she's keeping the team together. Some people are never happy. But, she is happy with them. She just doesn't show it.
