Marshall sat in his Duvi's cockpit, fuming over his reassignment, as the craft traversed through Specter Gate. Originally, he was to spearhead the Crimson Suns' attack on Specter, a task which fell on the ace of any fleet. Now, Rico, the Suns' leader, had him repositioned to the main fleet. His pride and duty were stolen because a mere flight of four fighters had spotted the Suns' advance. He groaned, “Rico, you didn't have to reassign us.”
Marshall rolled his eyes.
Rico had changed the entire operation plan due to the pests. Instead of storming the gate and overrunning the enemy, Rico ordered a conservative, ramping assault. Instead of having Marshall lead the charge, Rico ordered Marshall's flight to guard the Suns' flagship. And instead of blasting the damn Temple Wraiths to pieces, Marshal sat grumbling in his cockpit as less deserving orgmates claimed his glory.
Another face intruded on his display. This time, Potter came with the rebuttal.
“You think someone's leaking our plans to them?” Marshall grimaced.
If that's true, then I'll personally vent those traitors into the gate.
“Can't wait.”
The blue vortex transitioned to a blinding white as his Duvi reached the gate's end. As the light faded, the ship's console blared out. “Collision warning, pull up.”
WHAT!? Marshall yanked the stick towards himself. Half a Wu-Jian frigate grazed his underside shields.
Marshall looked back. Behind him, only a fireball remained where another subordinate's fighter once flew. His collision warning sounded again, prompting him to look up. A myriad of wrecks lay, strewn across his path. He dodged a Duvi's wing, a Fulcrum's cockpit, and a frigate thruster. His flight followed suit. Shards of glass and chunks of metal sapped his shield's power. Yet, not a single enemy ship was in sight.
What the hell? Marshall found an area of relative safety, then scanned his surroundings. Four friendly frigates and their escorts gathered within a field of shattered parts and hulls. Their lead ship broadcast a signal to regroup. Above them, a silver wall of chaff blanketed the gate. Marshall gaped at the devastated Suns' fleet. “What the fuck happened here!?”
“We're attacking! That can't be right.” Marshall punched his canopy. Launching asteroids at an opponent required foreknowledge of the target's location – an element only available when attacking defense stations. “You're telling me they predicted our emergence point!?”
Rico ignored the two.
Murmurs filled their comms. The Temple Wraiths already sprung one surprise on the Suns, and none wished to be on the wrong side of another. The defense station, seeming far more formidable than they planned for, raised all the wrong flags in their mind.
Marshall snorted at the comment. Rico was hardly the type to lead, and no member followed him for his personality. Rico did, however, have a knack for finding the easiest path to their objectives, be it tactical or strategic. So when he decided on a course, people listened. If only he weren't so lazy.
Marshall pumped his fist. “Yes! That's what I'm talking about! Vince! Flare! Let's go!” He flew to the lead frigate with his two wingmen in tow. In the meantime, Rico continued adjusting the ranks. When the chaff cloud dispersed, their enemy formation emerged on their sensors. Rico sighed.
The full fleet lit their engines and advanced on the station. To Marshall's surprise, the Wraith's fleet moved to intercept them, including the destroyer which towered over all other ships. Just as the fleets entered firing range, several flashes appeared from the titan.
“Roger,” Marshall said. “Flare, take the left. Vince on right.” The three Duvis each took aim at two torpedoes, spraying plasma into their paths. When the first was hit, all six burst, creating another wall of silver between the two fleets. Marshall punched his canopy again. “Those fuckers!”
Marshall's eyes jumped to his radar. It gave him nothing thanks to the jamming. “Where're the others!?”
Damn it! They split and hid in the chaff.
From the colossus, six beams of plasma shot forth, destroying a Suns' frigate. Torrents of fire hit the Suns' vanguard from below and to Marshall's left. He grimaced as the Suns fell into chaos. Sparks and smoke blew from their fighters.
“We're going south!” Marshall declared. His flight of three Duvis dove downward. A squadron of Wasp fighters entered his range. He snorted. Wasps lacked the missiles or firepower to crack his hardened shields. “Focus shields forward, we're taking down their leader and squashing those bugs!”
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The three unleashed a barrage of cannon fire at their target. The Wasp rolled away from their shots. It's wingmen peppered the Suns with plasma. Not enough for concern.
Marshall grinned. “Not good enough. Vince, lead your shots. Flare aim above.” Marshall aimed below the target. The three launched their coordinated volley. Skilled or not, there were attacks even a Wasp could not evade. Seconds later, the Wasp leader vanished in a cloud of smoke and flames. The next three Wasps struggled without their lead. Marshall's flight dispatched them in a flash.
What happened at the other sides? Marshall checked his radar. To his dismay, the enemy destroyer stood intact, meaning their bomber run failed. On the other front, the Suns took more damage, but also knocked out several fighters.
Just as his flight reached their rendezvous point, Forest announced,
“Same as before guys,” Marshall groaned. He took aim at the center two torpedoes. They exploded before he pulled the trigger. Between the Suns' and Wraiths' fleets, another wall of glittering chaff appeared. Marshall could only scream. “Fuck! Again!?”
Just wait you damn Wraiths. The gloves are off now. The fighters matched speed with their lead frigate as the group entered the metallic cloud. One after another, Marshall's sensors and comms went blank. He strained his eyes, searching for a break in the haze. Seconds later, he found himself on the wrong end of a plasma cannon. Shit! He pulled up. An Aoshima's main gun wiped half is shield power with a glancing shot. Marshall's missile lock warning whistled. Three flew at him from the frigate's launchers. He popped his flares, thwarting the attack. Two anti-aircraft guns pointed his way. His Duvi was too close and too slow to avoid the shots. Marshall shuddered. He pushed all power into his shields. Is this it? The two guns exploded. More fireballs burst from the ship's missile pods and thrusters. “Whoo!” Marshall cheered. “You two crippled the thing!” Marshall checked his radar. Chaos had descended on the battlefield. The two opposing fleets intermingled at stupidly close ranges, trading plasma, missiles and torpedoes. Above it all, the Wraiths destroyer rained death upon the Suns' frigates. A group of red markers caught his eye. “Flight of Rattlers, south of Forest,” Marshall said. Flare said. ---------------------------------------- With just three? Jake turned to check. As stated, Chase's frigate spewed smoke from each its thrusters and guns. “Could it be that Marshall guy you mentioned?” “Split off Stevie, see if they take the bait,” Jake said. Stevie and Guinea broke off from his element, trying to divide the enemy flight of three. The oncoming fighters ignored the others – all three Duvis turned toward Jake and Ecks, auto-turrets attacking at full power. The Duvi's synchronized their attacks, targeting Ecks. Unlike most players, these three moved as a seamless unit, making their shots impossible to dodge. Ecks danced round in his fighter, but damage on his shields mounted. “Pull up!” Jake turned about sending missiles at the right wingman, hoping to create an escape route. The missile blew away the enemy shields. But enemy flight leader predicted Ecks' path. More plasma rained onto Ecks. His Rattler shattered. Jake groaned. “Three against two now, let's get that leader.” He locked onto the flight leader and launched another missile. Their target sprayed decoy, throwing off Jake's assault. “Try again,” Jake said. The three Rattlers chased their prey into the melee of ships towards a nearby Wu-Jian. The enemy frigate sprayed Jake with its guns. Jake redirected his power to shields. “Take the shot Guinea!” As if in response, two missiles pierced the fireball. Guinea reacted too late. High explosive warheads slammed into Guinea's fighter, turning it into a shrapnel bomb. “Shit! He hid under the Wu-Jian's shields!” The enemy ace emerged from the frigate's shield radius unharmed alongside his wingman. “On it,” Jake said. He aligned his sights with the second fighter. The two Duvis executed an inside turn, trading off their pursuers. The Duvi leader came face to face with Jake with its guns blazing. The second Duvi rammed into Stevie's Rattler, and both fighters broke apart. The Suns' auto-turret delivered the final blow to Stevie. While its hull burned, the Duvi launched all its missiles at a Divers' Wasp. Then, its main engines exploded. It's just me and you now. Jake focused everything he had on his enemy. Exchanging fire, the two interceptors danced in space. With the more maneuverable fighter, Jake turned faster, latching onto the Duvi's tail. His opponent's turret spun about, throwing plasma into his path. Hold still, dammit. Jake grumbled. The target couldn't outmaneuver him in any way, but it kept shifting about, keeping Jake's Rattler outside the turret's blind spot. He chased the Duvi through the melee of frigates, hitting it with plasma at every opportunity. Turret shots splashed off his shields every few seconds. His own attacks wore down the enemy shields faster. Thirty secs and its over... Suddenly, his missile lock alarm blared. Jake checked his back. The wrecked fighter floated by behind him. Jake's alarm went silent. He looked up. Both main guns and auto-turret on the Duvi pointed straight at him from zero range. “Fuck,” Jake sighed. A tempest of light poured over ship. His shield energy dropped to nothing. “I still need more practice.”