Log:Doomsday Clock: Bright Jewel pt1
Doomsday Clock: Bright Jewel pt1
OOC Date: February 7, 2025
Location: Bright Jewel System
Participants: Yer'ok'omam, Aitax Rendon, Axyl Lucayon, Bors Thul, Cin'cirad Rook, Jon Korbix, Karas Darkwing, Wil Loralia
The act of moving ships into position for a major offensive is rarely subtle. There's positioning and jump cohesion to make certain one ship doesn't show up half-way across the system, but as a cohesive, unified front. Without being so far afield that the defensive ships can immediately start firing the second sensors pick up enemy readings on display.
Because Ord Mantell is a logical next vector of attack, Captain Dorth Triloga has been tasked with holding the Rebels and been issued a sizable support fleet towards that task. He stands upon his bridge as the Rebellion Fleet appears from hyperspace and brings the bridge to Red Alert.
Aboard the Ascendancy, Yer'ok'omam stands in her prestine black uniform with her hands clutched behind her back. The grand display of Ord Mantell hovers out ahead with the Sun behind the planet, casting a solar shadow upon the Imperials. <"Captains to your stations. Prepare to engage."> A subtle turn towards her Wing Commander, an older Chiss woman, "Major Lor'di'li, prepare to launch fighters. Send word to Captain De'arti to have Silver, Magenta, and Indigo squadrons come around for support." A silent nod and the Major begins issuing the orders.
A nest of X-Wings & Y-Wings begin launching from the MC80 and the Quasar support ship, turning the already cluttered sensors into a field of smaller signatures to match the mass of TIE Fighters swarming out from the Imperials.
On the bridge of the Victory II class *Ravenous*, Captain Rendon stands with gloved hands clasped behind his back. The interior of the old destroyer is the antigue durasteel gray rather than the pristine reflective black of newer Imperial ships and as the rebel fleet emerges from hyperspace one vessel at a time, senor alerts chime. "Battle stations. Shields up once all squadrons are away." The orders were spoken evenly, with no change to his straight-backed posture, echoes and broadcast within the next instant. He glanced aside from the view port to inform the communications officer, "Patch Alpha Leader through directly to the bridge, ensign." Narrow blue eyes returned to the closing fleet. "And so we begin."
It's been a minute since Wil has had to do much in the way of Captaining. Of course he's been doing things for the Rebellion, but those have been on the ground, getting shot at. He'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy the thrill, but this was where the true -mastery- happens.
Wil sits in his chair on the bridge, leaning on one elbow, chin propped in his hands. "Red alert. All hands to battle stations," he relays, his bridge crew already doing their jobs, acting as the words come out of their captain's mouth. "Get those turbolasers warmed up, I want Axyl's surprise to be just that, a surprise, for the Imperials."
The Nebulon B frigate stays in the shadow of the Adept Hammer, ready and waiting to do mid-fight repairs if need be.
As the Legacy came into real space, Jon Korbix was walking toward the Captain's chair. Around him, a sea of activity as members of the helm crew got sensor scans out and began listing off their findings. An intel officer near the tactical table was confirming initial intelligence reports for accuracy.
"Have our squadrons launch," Jon announced as he settled. "Have all guns and grid-defense online. Helm, bring us forward. I want comms check across the board and link engineering up on comms."
"Weapons are up, sir! -- Comms are up, Captain. -- All ahead full, aye sir."
Jon crossed his legs and sat back against his chair. "Ex-Oh.. take charge of our fighter arrangement."
A fleet-level engagement is seldom subtle; but elements within it may be. Ord Mantell remains an important trade and commerce hub, even beyond its infamous mercenaries; to say every trader didn't get the memo would be understating the sheer chaos beneath the wide-scale logistical organization of waging a war.
There are probably at least a handful of free traders and assorted private craft trying to enter or exit Ord Mantell's airspace still, and being warned off by the broadcasts-- and sheer force projection-- of the rival fleets. One such vessel comes in with its transponder off, from an approach vector as far off the calculated norms as geometrically possible. As hyperspace signatures go, the process pings on several moments too long for the small vessel's arrival; but who has time to stare at -that-, just now?
In the cockpit of the /Down and Out/, Lucayon's features are hidden behind the stoic visage of his Mandalorian helm, the warning comms disregarded; disabled, as he transmits point to point in local space instead. "Hold formation as tightly as you can, as long as you can; their sensors aren't even pointing this way, yet."
For the audience's benefit, the camera pans out through the YT-2000's transparisteel viewport and sweeps a close zoom over the vessel's nondescript grey hull, arcing vertical past the brilliant, high-intensity blue of the ship's drive plume and behind it into space-- along the sleek, agile, armed to the teeth silhouettes of Rebellion Rogue-class starfighters lined up double-file, a squadron deep...
The Mandalorian on the bridge of the Legacy looks toward the Captain, then down at the board in front of her. She toggles the commlink in her helmet to be linked into the Ship's systems, before calling up the Hangar Deck. Her eyes rolling down the names of the crew and the listings she has for her Squadrons. <<"Egg, gimme a rundown on the ships. What's our timeframe to finish starfighter launch operations.">>
A couple seconds go by and a man responds, <<"Commander, we have thirty seconds till the deck is mostly clear. One B-wing down in pre-flight, swapped Sylops 9 for one of the Y-wings.">>
A drawn out sigh, then she looks toward the readouts. Murmuring, <"Okay, looks good. All green so far."> Toggling the comm to now talk across the Tac channel for the Legacy's squadrons. <<"Bingo, Bingo, Legacy Actual. Status?">>
Another few seconds later, and a woman comes back, <<"Legacy Actual, Bingo. All green, read you five-by-five.">>
A second later and Sira is talking again, <<"Iris, Iris, Legacy Actual. Status?">>
This one takes a bit longer, the transmission starting off a bit choppy, <<"L--acy A--ual, Iris. Ten green. Two yellow, read you 5 by -our. Rese-- encr----n.">> Another few seconds, then another call. <<"Legacy Actual, Iris. Reset completed. How Copy?">>
<<"Lima Charlie, five-by-five.">>
Sira looks up from the controls toward on and nods her head, <"Yes, Captain. Both squadrons reporting in. Minor issues with Sylops 10 and 12. All Strill in the green."> Then another nod and she looks back down toward the fighter arrangements.
<<"Alpha Lead, all squadrons, report in...">>
TIEs were being scrambled. To begin dropping from the racks as hydraulics carried them to the launch bays of the ship - signals coming from numerous sources and the majority from the garrison force. Among the standard Imperial fighters being discharged one among them had the distinct forward stretched profile of a Silencer class.
<<"Form following launch and await operational orders while maintaining BARCAP.">>
Bors was reclined in his seat, the inertial dampers dialing down so that he could keep a feel for his crafts movements.
<<"Lead, what should we expect.">>
<<"I expect a fight, Lieutenant...">> Fingers ticking over toggles while he answered, seeing the patch-in indicator for the bridge, opting not to answer yet, at least to Rendon, <<"They've an idea. It's more dangerous than ego.">>
And with that, to silence rebuttal, he toggles a comm key with his chin, <<"Captain Rendon, fighters are ready to deploy.">>
Upon arriving into the system and their combat arena. Karas having already spoken to all of the squadrons and meeting with each Flight Lead of the individual squadrons. Once the briefings were done, all pilots were waiting and once in system, Karas who is the Wing Commander, his T-85 X-Wing already flight prepped and ready to go. Upon giving the command, <<Alright boys and girls we got work to do. All flights launch!>> he commands through the tact comms. His fighter lurches forward as he launches from the Ascendancy.
Each of the squadrons launch, streaking off towards their targets, <<Lock S-Foils into attack position.>> he says into his comms and as he does X-Wings, and B-Wings strike foils move into attack position. <<Squadron CO's you have your orders, nothing fancy, every keep on yoru wingman and assignments, let's take the fight to the enemy.>> he says as Echo Lead streaks off leading the fighter wings.
The battle rages.
The Ascendancy circles under Roko's orders, "Ensign, get a firing solution on the Nebulon Captain Lucayon is targetting." She says, with the response being the immediate beep of the targeting computers and the broadside bombardment from all of the Massive Rebel Capital Ships guns. "Good shooting, come about. Major Darkwing, the squadrons' are yours. Move Indigo, Magenta, and Silver back to defensive position around Captain Di'arti's Quasar. Black, Echo, Boar, and Lantern squadrons on attack run." Li'ar'i, the Ascendancy's XO moves into an auxiliary position, issuing orders from the Wing Commander to the fighter squadrons.
Which flash out under Karas' command with their S-Foils adjusting into attack position when they join the fray. Peppering along another bombardment from Ascendancy, that lumbers along in the black of space. "Position the Ascendancy between Imperial Capital ships and our carrier. Notify Captain Di'arti to move back from the engagement to draw those fighters further from around the distant moon." It's a difficult tactical decision, but she's hoping to distance that mass off TIE Fighters where the three from her ship, two from Jon's and their own guns might even the odds without being in danger of bigger guns.
Aitax Rendon spoke formally to Lord Thul: <<"Alpha Leader, direct your squadrons against the designated enemy frigate, and do mind the firing solution. Proceed from thence at your best judgement sir. Good hunting.">> Aside, as the pinpricks of light began slashing through the black voice beyond his bridge, he prompted, "Full turbolasers at the Nebulon. Follow with a barrage of concussion missiles. Point defense guns stand ready." The opening stages of the battle played out rather conservatively. The *Ravenous* glided forward and lowered its position to improve the firing angle on the Nebulon frigate that the *Adept Hammer* captain was wisely seeking to screen. The changed position and an expert rotation of shields avoided the worst of the Rebel fusilade and Aitax acknowleded with a curt nod that shields were holding at 97 percent. His stance and bearing remained still and statuesque, observing the developments with head held high. Noting the heavy exchange of fire and fighters between the two flagships, the junior captain of the Imperial fleet pressed his temporary advantage.
Communications aboard the Imperial-class flagship were less austere, as the heavy blows traded by the massed squadrons had put support ships on both sides of the battle at great danger. Still, despite the array of rebel destroyers against them, for the battle's opening hour, the Imperial line was holding...
The void of space is alight with Turbolaser fire. The Adept Hammer's guns turn on the Nebulon frigates of the Imperials. Who do the exact same to him. He swears, muttering something about 'stealing his idea'. "Have the Nebulon repair their own shields. We'll keep pounding away at theirs. Fire the kriffing torpedoes!"
Real nice, Wil. Swear at the crew.
"At least Axyl's doing okay out there." He shifts slightly on his seat, ordering the remaining squadron to swarm their own Nebulon to protect it. They might need that thing. "You're all doing great. ... Sorry for swearing. Just keep it up."
"We need firing solutions, people. Let's go!" Jon yelled from his seat watching as his ship's first volley hit nothing but space. He brought up the console and began to pick out a new target. The moment it was indicated, the weapons officer spoke up, "New target acquired, sir. Locking on."
Jon motioned lazily with his hand, pointing toward the new target, the VSD containing a Captain Rendon. Red bolts released from the platforms, the lights flickering within, and floor rattling. Nearby, a cup fell off a console and shattered on the deck, and one of the crew members immediately moved over to clean it up.
"Good solution on that target, Captain. Shall we--"
"Keep firing, please." Jon said abruptly, though not rudely.
The Down and Out builds speed to a rather impressive top end as a vector towards the planet turns into a long slingshot along the edges of its gravity well and then-- inexorably-- an approach vector on the Sith fleet. The YT-2000 comes in hard, if ultimately as little more than a feinting distraction for one of the escort carriers. The Quasar-class' shields hold against a flurry of crimson pinpricks, an alarming gnat along its flank.
Of greater concern is that squadron of Rogue starfighters that roll gracefully out of the wake of the Corellian freighter to port and starboard in fluid unison. In other context, one might admire their grace, their poise, their cool under the harshest pressure; just now, it's do or die.
In the moment, the precise stroke does little more to erode the Imperial carrier... but it does at least screen some of their TIEs, draw some of that fire to the surgical team, if one will.
"Regaining forward arc. Screen four to eight." It's terse but cool, a matter of fact if intense focus reflected in the simple order to his turret gunners as he throws the freighter into a twist along its lateral axis, the hull groaning in protest as its engines cut thrust and the YT-2000 drifts at high velocity along the underside of the Quasar-- and perhaps an opening for more effective fire against its hangars as the advanced snubfighters join dogfights and seek missile locks for those aforementioned bristling payloads.
"Make them split their attention; cover one another. We need another pass." And to buy time for the rest of the fleet to push forward; in an ideal world. A silver-grey astromech plugged into the system whiiiirrrs their concern, but the only time spared for it now is the reaffirming thump of a gauntlet on the little droid's head-- before the Shistavanen's grip clasps upon flight yoke tightly once more.
Sira, the Wing Commander and XO aboard the Legacy runs her finger down the list again, tapping on the entries for Sylops 10 and 12 to see what systems were getting flagged. So far, nothing major, the R2 and R5 unit aboard them doing some quick work to rewire and reroute some of the power around the problems areas. Repulsor lifts on 10 and the rear shield emitter on 12 were causing some issues.
Toggling over to the Tactical channels, this time Sylops channel, again she listened in on the communication between the pilots.
<<"Babs, tighten up.">> Called Nuski.
<<"Ghost is blind.">>
<<"Bore sight lock me, Ghost.">>
<<"Ghost acknowledged. Got you, Tank.">>
<<"How about it Toot, got any words of wisdom for us today?">>
<<"Sure, Iris. The Objective of Today is...">>
The rest was drowned out by a few groans, then a laugh as Iris cut back in. <<"Stay loose on the stick, follow your lead, and watch eachothers backs. Especially those sorry SOBs in the Y-wings.">>
<<"Says the woman who cut her teeth flying them.">>
<<"I heard that Freedom. Guess who's gonna be talking to the Quartermaster as the Snack-O next briefing?">>
This groan was much more drawn out as the Twi'lek realized he shoved his foot in his own mouth.
Iris comes back on with a laugh, <<"Lock S-foils if you got them, Sylops.">>
Flicking it back over to the Squadron Lead channel, <<"All Squadrons, all squadrons, Legacy Actual. Launch an attack on the Squadrons attacking the CRS Ascendancy. Repeat, defend Ascendancy. Follow attack route Besh, all squadrons, weapons free.">>
<<"Iris, Copy.">>
<<"Bingo, Copy.">>
The calls continue out across the respective squadrons as they quickly pass the information along. The squadrons working both together, and as separate entities. The mix of Y-wings and B-wings launching attacks from longer ranges while the X-wings cover them, before breaking through their lines. With no losses of their own, the inflicted 5 losses to one squadron and 4 to the other.
<<"Affirmative. Alpha and Beta squadrons make your attack runs, form claw and envelope.">> TIE craft sweep forward, the twenty three craft with Bors as the 'anchor' for three 'fingers' of fighters extending out like the talons of a hunting raptor descending.
The perpetual night of a dogfight lighting up like a life-day celebration in virulent crimson and ruby surging back and forth while the swarm of Imperial TIEs press.
<<"They're massing.">>
<<"Stay on target">>
The monocle worn within his helmet flooding part of his vision with details that the old man is still canny enough to read while raking fire across his quarry.
<<"Captain Rendon, I am marking target suggestion...">> Bors notes amidst the chatter of pilots calling out targets or threats against them.
<<"Esk - break to wings, evasive and reform for assault.">>
A ring of affirmatives returned as he directs another massed pass on the frigate.
<<Copy that Command.>> Karas says into his comm. <<Indigo, Magenta, and Silver, you heard the Captain, hussle over and protect Cap Di'arti's Quasar, I don't want nothing getting through your defense. Remember what you were trained to do.>> Karas says into his comm. The three squadrons peel off and quickly rocket back towards the Ascendancy.
Karas studies the combat area, "Alright the rest of you on my wing, let's go bring them hell."
With that the four squadrons race as targets are picked out and the thrum of the engines pushing the pilots into their seats. X-wings, E-Wings, B-Wings, A-Wings and Y-Wings rocket towards the combat area. Laser fire erupt as they four squadrons come in to play. Rolling and racing, jinking. Karas calls out commands to his team, some fighters splitting off in twos using the wingman formations, covering for the B and Y-Wings for their runs against any frigates that've been targeted for them.
There's a back and forth to the engagement that is going heavily in the Imperials favor due to the presence of those two Nebulon's. Despite the firepower being brought to bare, the repairs keep it limping along. "Major Darkwing, keep your squadrons on attack runs..." Roko says from the bridge, "Inform Captain Di'arti to keep his pattern on the port side of the Ascendancy." The XO acknowledges and sends the communications to the Quasar, which is showing a great deal of structural damages with the flights of TIE Fighters still swarming around it. If not for the X-Wing groups Indigo, Magenta, and Silver, things would be a whole lot worse.
"Captain, we're taking enemy fire from the Victory Class." There's a nod from the Stalwart Chiss Captain, who peers at her displays and makes a broad motion when The Imperial Class Destroyer puts itself between the Rebel fleet and the damaged carrier. "Understood, Ensign, establish a targeting solution on their Quasar, keep them from flanking." Beeps of acknowledgement and the guns aboard the MC80 erupt in a barrage that have the shields flickering ont he enemy Carrier. "Good shooting, keep it up."
"Fleet wide." Lor'di'li points towards Roko, <"Prepare to isolate the two Destroyers. Captain Korbix, smother that Victory Class with firepower. Captain Larolia, the Dark Sun could use some assistance with shield repairs, if you will. Continue your attacks on enemy support vessels."
Karas can handle the Nebulon's ultimate, untimely, return to space dust.
Aitax Rendon nodded once to the report from his wing commander and noted, "Make use of the new solution." However, while his skills on the defensive were still holding strong, the same subtle change of position that had made such havoc of the Rebel fleet's heavy guns had also ruined his own gunner?s locked coordinates, and what should have been a devastating barrage of concussion missiles either sailed harmlessly past the target frigate, or were shot down. His mouth drew into a terse line and a sharp look aside punctuated the sharp command: "Re-align the main guns at once. Ravenous to Alpha Leader: redirect your attack runs to the damaged rebel carrier." His blue eye hardened at the small flash of light as an imperial frigate was destroyed in the wake of the Imperial-class flagship. Another look aside to the comm station, "Tell Commander Zircon to send the signal. Now. The rebels will commit heavily now that they?ve had a taste of success. This is our moment. Helm! Engines ahead one quarter, bring us to closer range."
The Sentinel-class communications frigate that drifted through the void in the Ravenous' wake transmitted its prepared data packages. For now though, the battle ground on.
"Roger that, Captain," Will says back through open comms. "You heard the lady," he says, shifting in his seat and then rising to stride across the bridge towards the viewport. One hand lifts to push his white hair out of his eyes as he stares out at the battle. "Send the Nebulon to the Dark Sun. Keep firing as fast as you can," he says. "In fact, open comms to the weapons."
An officer nods, opening the channel. "Ladies and gentlemen," he says. "I know you've been working hard. Busting your butts down there to keep things going. I need a little more out of you. A little more speed. A little more accuracy. I need you to dump as much firepower as you can in as little time. I know you can do it. I believe in you. You just have to believe in yourself."
"Helmsman! Bring us around. Get us a good firing angle so we can finish those support ships!"
"What seems to be the issue, Lieutenant?" Jon asks calmly watching as volley after volley yield little in the way of progress against their intended target. "Helm, adjust course, Half speed with our starboard presented to fire."
Jon moves the console from his lap and moves back from the command deck to the weapons station with the Lieutenant. "I'm trying, sir.." The officer said, clearly shaken. Jon, pats his shoulder and takes the spot next to him. "It is fine, son. We can do this together. That ship is a target; nothing more. Think not of the lives, but about the mission. Help me program the next salvo.."
"Yes sir."
"Captain, ship is moving into position now, sir."
"Thank you, helm."
"Sir, target's on the move. She's closing."
"Then they move where we want them. Bring the guns about.."
Outside the Legacy, along its external hull, turbo lasers begin to rotate as the new solution is programmed. Engines glow bright as the helm brings them into an ideal pass to broadside.
<<"Legacy copies, Ascendancy.">> Jon responds after pressing a hand to his headset and boom-mic. "Lieutenant, ready?"
"Sir? Yes sir."
"Engage."
Skimming sidelong under the Sith Quasar, the Down and Out and a wing of Rogue starfighters focus fire on first one, then the second hangar slung beneath the ship's dagger's edge. The ship's engines bloom to life as pursuers and turrets are dissuaded from obliterating them and the craft soar vertical, rapidly ascending outside the previous firing arc. "Iba'shabuir!!"
Axyl curses in Mando'a, though the more pertinent information comes across in Basic. "Shields were angled and adapted perfectly-- the fleet got one of the Nebulon-B's--" And the Ascendancy's fire comes in -hot-. Burning turbolaser discharges soar between the smaller craft and pepper the Quaser far more spicily than the swarming craft have managed-- and the Shistamandalorian's expression turns to a wolfish smile.
The T-visored helm, however, stays impassive-- as does the deep, rumbling voice on the comms. "They're opened up after all-- make it wrought in steel." A 180 degree spin makes the YT-2000's inertia compensators /whiiiine/, the bucket seats lurch, but it will only be instants longer before that swarm of bites returns-- this time angling for the Quasar's prominent, insufficiently redundant engines.
Sira looks up to watch Jon standing next to the Devaronian. Lieutenant Kix, the Chief Gunnery Officer. He takes it well when the Captain comes over to help calm him down. It was one of his first times in a fleet battle, having transferred in toward the end of the Ithor campaign. Sira's eyes moving then toward the helmsman.
Maning the helm is Lieutenant Thil Hehoru, known as Zeya. A Bothan female, she starts to tap away as the controls without any pause, setting the course in compliance with the Captain's orders. This was her second, she had been at Ithor - both the initial Assault and the Defense.
Sira of course has her own things to deal with... <<"All Squadrons, all squadrons, Legacy Actual. Continue attack route Besh. Sylops, new target. I repeat, new target, Nebulon Frigate marked Cresh. Target is Cresh.">> Sira continues as she watches the attack progress, moving her eyes more than her head as she reads the information while checking around her using the augmented reality of her helmet's system. The only outward sign of her anxiety is the tap on the console every five seconds like the beat to a rhythm she has playing in her head.
Or maybe inside her helmet.
<<"Bingo, roger, on you Iris.">>
<<"Iris copy, Legacy Actual.">>
She flicked through the channels once more, taking the time to listen in on the Squadron communication channels instead of just the Command Tactical chanel. This time, taking in the War Strills instead of Red Sylops.
There's a few grunting noises over the comm that sound horribly out of place.
<<"Oh c'mon guys. Who played it that time?">>
<<"Your fault, Bites. You gotta stop being so... vocal-genic.">>
<<"That's not a word!">>
<<"Will be soon enough.">>
Bites lets out a pained groan at the idea of it.
<<"You get that, Kestral?">>
<<"Yup! Going in the sound vault.">>
<<"Okay, okay. Cut the chatter, otherwise we'll miss the good ones from Bites. Gimme fuel and shields.">>
A few of the Flight leads call back various affirmatives to Bingo. Then the readouts start up, each one of the squadron coming back with the amount of fuel left and shield readouts. Everyone seems to be around the same level, a couple lower than the rest. As the Red Sylops line up on their bombing runs on the Nebulon, the fighters assist by targeting some of the turrets while flying cover in case any of the fighters return.
Two passes later, their damage is obvious though it's not until Roko's group comes in once more that the Nebulon-B is finally removed from action. <<"Sylops Lead, Sylops Lead, Legacy Actual. Report Status.">>
A few seconds later, Iris comes back across the comm channel to report minor damage to the B-wings. One of the Y-wings being down to half its compliment of Proton Torpedoes left. And all the ships still at 75% or higher in their fuel reserves. <<"All squadrons, all squadrons, Legacy Actual. Redirect to target Isk. I repeat, target Isk.">>
Having to send a few pilots back to the Ascendancy due to damage an not wanitng to lose any pilots. <<Copy That!>> he says to Captain Yer'ok'omam. <<Alright, we are taking down this Neb B. Form up, throttle up and lets end this damn thing.>> Echo Lead banks hard to port followed by the rest of his squadron and the other three squadrons, laser fire whizzing by, a Y-Wing detonates but the remaining fighters tighten up, the B and Y wings spread group up in threes.
<<Everyone cover them and fire off torps, let's sink this damn tub!>> he calls into his comms. As they make their run, proton torpedos streak off towards the Neb B as well as Proton Bombs from the Y-Wings. B-Wings let loose with their heavy cannons as their attack run produces the results that they needed. Another fighter is taken down but other Ties are also taking out, <<Neb B down!>> Karas calls out into the comms. <<One done more targets to go.>>
<<"Alpha acknowledges... Focusing on their carrier.">>
The command had come through and once the matter of assuring Ravenous of the receipt of orders, Bors snapped into action.
<<"Alpha, fore'd and sweep starboard, Beta from aft sweep port. Keep deflectors down. Fire ordnance on pass, dumbfire if you need... Break its spine.">>
Turning the yolk as he adjusted throttle the Silencer twisted into a spiral that the rest of the squadron swept to match. No fighter or Corvette focus on them for the present and they were capitalizing.
<<"Aye Commander.">>
<<"Seven pick up your speed hold my wing.">>
Emerald daggers are hurled in controlled bursts to keep deflectors hammered under unyielding fire blended with the iridescent fire of concussion warheads unleashed within the downpour.
Break its spine.
To be Continued...
