Compared with the atmosphere of Earth, the vacuum of space contained absolutely nothing. But in reality, this vacuum was hardly empty. Photons from a typical blue star flooded the expanse of this system, cosmic background radiation seeped in from interstellar space, and various comms blasted Aero's receivers with his fighter squad's idle chatter. Bits of radio static filtered into Aero's earpiece, despite the supposed twenty-eight century data transmission technology.
Nova said.
Nova said.
Groans poured out of Aero's earpiece. Seated in his frigate Celaeno's bridge, Aero's face found his open palm. He flipped the broadcast switch on his comms panel. “Nova, you have authorization to splash Alf. Fire at will.”
“Well she is our best interceptor pilot,” Aero said. And also the most trigger happy, he thought.
Well, Nova's smart enough not to splash blues before an op. It probably would've been fine though. His source said a single freighter approached with a minimal escort of two Duvi fighters – easy prey for this small band of pirates. The Celaeno served as his squad's command ship. The 150m long frigate had a load-out tailored for shield penetration and ship incapacitation. The squad had four Rattlers and four Vipers, both fighter models superior to the Duvis. Their band's interceptor pilots were among the best, with months of experience from constant raiding. Even the boarding party was skilled enough to take over a well-defended frigate; it was overkill for a single freighter. Too bad there wasn't anything stronger around.
Like most PVP organizations, the Templar Wraiths gained most of their income through pirating merchant trade or hunting bounties. Unlike most pirates or bounty hunters, who used PVP as a means to gaining credits, this group sought the thrill of combat, collecting only enough credits for ship maintenance and the occasional upgrade or ship replacement. Even now, the group floated in an asteroid field, impatiently waiting for their next prize.
“That's fine," Aero said, "I've got homework as well. Source has never been this far off on his timing before.”
Ooh. Ouch. Eck's on fire today. At least four voices blasted through the earpiece at once.
“Captain! Contacts!” The NPC crewman seated at the sensor station alerted Aero. “Five new contacts warped in through the Revell Gate!”
"Comms, comms, comms.” Aero cleared the airwaves. “Contact count five.”
“Library match,” the sensor operator continued. “Four Duvi class fighters and a Wells class enclosed freighter.”
“It's them. The fighters are Duvis, now marked Able, Baker, Charlie, and Dog. Prize is a Wells.” Aero said. He gave each fighter a phonetic letter designation and relayed those designations to the others. Two more fighters than expected. Nothing we can't handle though. “Op is on, op is on. Celaeno will take Prize. Flight leads, Mayto, Nova, pick your targets. Sweep the bugs before Prize.”
From his bridge's view screen, Aero watched the eight fighters in his squad each ignites their main engines and shrink into the distance until they were blue dots among the stars.
Aero turned to his own crew. “Power up all systems. Helm, full speed ahead. Approach Prize to five klicks and match speed. Gunner, charge ionic disruptors and fire at will.” Five kilometers was just inside the maximum effective range of Celaeno's shield disrupting ion weapons, while remaining outside the range of typical defensive weapons on a freighter.
“Full speed ahead. Approaching to five klicks,” the helmsman confirmed.
“Charging ionic disruptors. Will fire when in range,” the weapons officer said.
Aero flipped an internal comms switch, contacting his boarding party leader. “Legs, prepare for launch. Prize has finally appeared.”
“You're deploying in about five minutes.”
“Sensors, keep an eye out for any new guests.” Aero said.
“Yes captain.”
Four fighters instead of two, and they were over an hour late. Wonder if anything else will be unexpected, Aero thought. The hum from Celaeno's twin engines crescendoed to a roar. Asteroids of assorted sizes whizzed by on the bridge viewscreen. Celaeno was fast for its size, but nowhere near as fast a single or twin-seated fighter. On his holomap, Aero watched the two flights of four interceptors each approach their targets.
The four Duvi fighters split into two elements, or leader wingman pairs, with Able leading Charlie, and Baker leading Dog. In response, his two flights split up, with Mayto's flight engaging Able-Charlie and Nova's flight on Baker-Dog. It looks like they have some semblance of teamwork. This might be interesting.
Two aggressors and two defenders, classic tactics, Aero thought. Not enough when you're outnumbered two to one though. He checked the view screen. Celaeno was now positioned outside the asteroid belt, and orange flashes of plasma bolts from the interceptor battle decorated the screen. Though not as pretty, the holomap still provided the better tactical view on the action.
“Prize is at five klicks. Matching speed.” Helm announced.
“IDs locked and firing.” Gunner said.
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“Prize shields at seventy percent,” the sensor officer said.
The dance of light and fire continued for several minutes. While the four Duvis managed to evade fire and occasionally engage the Vipers and Rattlers, their numbers were too small to break through any of his fighters' shields before receiving fire themselves. Shields on the Wells class freighter steadily absorbed orange plasma blasts from Celaeno's IDs, but the cyan bubble surrounding it slowly faded in color. Like most freighters, this one appeared only fitted with anti-fighter weaponry. With Celaeno attacking from maximum range, the fully laden Wells freighter was a sitting duck.
Able's red indicator on the holomap disappeared.
“Prize shields at forty percent.”
Another red marker disappeared, leaving three total.
Wait, was Nova on Baker the entire time? She read him way too easily, Aero thought
Charlie and Dog regrouped to form a new element with Dog in the lead, but Charlie seemed unable to properly match Dog as a wingman. Their formation crumbled on Aero's holomap once Nova's flight gave chase. Her flight stayed on Dog while Mayto's chased Charlie. Now facing four opponents each, the Duvis had no chance of survival.
“How are we doing on Prize?” Aero asked his crew.
“Twelve percent shields.” Sensors said.
“Launch the jackknife, prepare MP torpedoes for launch.”
“Launching jackknife.” Aero's first officer confirmed. A marker for the boarding craft appeared on his holomap, slowly flying towards Prize.
“MP torpedoes ready, maintaining ID fire,” Gunner said.
“Launch MPTs once Prize's shields are down,” Aero said.
“Do not engage Prize,” Aero commanded. “Repeat, do not engage Prize. Its shields are too low already. Stay at range and watch for company.”
“Prize shields down, launching MPTs.”
Without shields, ships were at risk of permanent damage. Engines and thrusters could be destroyed. Hulls can be breached, and a lucky shot could even eliminate the bridge in one hit. The magnetic pulse torpedoes launched by the Celaeno could overwhelm a ship's electronics system and disable it. While combat ships were hardened against such attacks, a freighter like Prize was quite vulnerable and would be disabled with a single clean hit. Aero stood from his seat and moved to the view screen.
The two MP torpedoes shot past the Jackknife and slammed into the hull of Prize. Arcs of lightning scattered over its surface, and the lights and thrusters on Prize went dark. With perfect timing, the Jackknife latched onto Prize's hull. Once the boarding party had breached the freighter's hull, there was little for the interceptors or frigate to do.
“They're in, moving to the bridge,” Aero's comms officer reported.
<10K says ores,> Alf said.
“Update from Legs. Bridge is clear. They're moving onto the cargo hold.”
Aero returned to his chair. “We're almost done guys. Get ready to skip out. Set course for Mystell Gate.”
“What just happened!? Everyone report in!” Celaeno's sensors spewed noise from every direction. All of Celaeno's instruments panels went blank. Aero was completely blind. Okay, calm down, calm down. With a deep breath, he thought to himself, Legs and Jackknife are probably gone. Everyone else was at full shields and power. They should be fine. An attack is coming, we need to regroup.
“It's jamming chaff Captain. Signal's clearing up now.” Sensors said.
With the view screen again displaying normally, Aero searched for his fighters. Prize had disappeared into a vast cloud of metallic dust, a cloud which still engulfed his fighter group and prevented EM signals from passing.
“All units report in. Form up on Celaeno. All units report in. Form up on Celaeno.” Aero could only hope the broadcast reached his squad.
“Captain! New contacts!” Sensors yelled out. “Four new contacts warped in through the Revell Gate. Wait… now it's sixteen. Now twenty. Twenty contacts from Revell Gate. Identified, four Wu-Jian class frigates, twelve Vipers, four Wasps.”
Here they come, Aero thought. Why can't I reach the others yet? Sixteen fighters were quickly approaching.
“Helm, get those asteroids between us and the enemy fleet. We're moving to Mystell Gate now! Gunner, prepare for anti-fighter combat!”
“Roger Captain!” Helm said.
“We're good to go sir.” Gunner said.
“All units report in. Form up on Celaeno. All units report in. Form up on Celaeno.”
“Contact! We have contacts from Wraiths two, five, and six!” The chaff cloud finally dissipated enough for the interceptors to regain contact.
Finally! Aero thought. “Mayto, form on me, repeat, form on me. We have company. Do you copy?”
“Good to see you again.” Aero said. He confirmed all eight of his interceptors were present on his holomap. The enemy fighters would soon enter attack range.
Their warp was badly timed. We'd be dead if they warped in as Prize blew. Still have fighters to deal with, but we can escape as long as we stay away from the frigates.
“We're moving towards Mystell," Aero announced. "Incoming fighters are Victor Able to Victor Love and Delta Able to Delta Dog. Those marks are transferring to you now. Pick them off as we move.”
“New contacts at Mystell Gate!” Sensors reported. The words were a punch to Aero's gut. “Count twenty-four, four Wu-Jian class frigates, six Fulcrum class bombers, six Wasps, eight Duvis.”
Four frigates and sixteen fighters from behind, four frigates, six bombers, and fourteen fighters in front. Well fuck. I guess someone got pissed at our raids. So, what to do now? A smile spread across his face, and he could only laugh at the predicament.
“Guys? I think I'm a terrible FC,” Aero said. A good fleet commander would save his ships and men after all.
“I want to take them all down. You guys in?”
All eight pilots enthusiastically agreed.
“You battle crazy idiots. You're the reason I can't get enough of this game,” Aero said. With his widest grin he stood before the holomap. “All ships reverse course! We're sweeping these buggers off the star map!”