If Ben needs backup, the Panzer Kunst Kammer Gruppe are fighting the ground war. These are the sort of people who'd wield a Barret .50BMG or an M2 like your average Joe might wield a .22LR..... and then get in close for serious smash with blades. They're big drawback is overconfidence, and a the fact that there's ten of them against how many highly motivated enemies?
Meanwhile, my head has cleared up, with only a lasting linger of last nights 'planning for the next Eirtakon', so I edited my previous post and squeezed out some words.
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It was stupid. It was insane. It was daft as a brush and madder than the Professors Panel. It was desperation. It was the only chance. Missiles, bearing down on orbiting ships. Bearing down on defenceless orbiting ships. Max thought fast, thought like lightning.
"Intercept them! Knock them out of the sky!"
Jet thought he was insane at first. She wasn't the only one.
"Hit them just ahead of the tail, the warheads won't go off,"
Max managed to project confidence, the certainty that he was right, the certainty that if they pulled it off correctly, there wouldn't be so much as a paint-scratch. Jet wasn't quite sure why she was going along with this plan, or why she wasn't making a beeline straight down to the ground, or off into the black.
Her target streaked forward, trailing condensing vapour and ice. Anti-shipping missile. It's target was getting closer. Some lumbering waved transport. Jet could see it's engines begin to glow, thrusters exhausting as it tried everything to move. The missile tracked unneringly. One hit and that ship would just disintegrate.
Jet could run. Jet could leave them to it.... Jet really wasn't sure if she could live with the guilt of it.
Or was it just a case of Max order, she follow? It wasn't insane heroism, she told herself. It wasn't stupidity. She was only following orders! Sure that was easier to believe. Jet just couldn't say 'No' to her trainer. She assumed that was it.
Ten meters out, she realised she was doing her best to just keep her mind from fully realising exactly how dangerous this was. A few milliseconds. Everything running full bore. Thinking like lightning on an adrenaline rush, mind trying to cram as much as it could into these last few moments. Well... at least she got to kiss Ford... really kiss. Real skin touching skin with the sort of tingle waved alloys just didn't have. Cold hand on one side of her face. Warm fingers on the other....
Adjust a little bit. Missile's moving slower than she guessed. Ease in. Hold your breath. Grit your teeth and wham!
Jet hit so hard, with such a strong kick running up through her leg, she could've sworn the missile went off right then and there. There was a flash of twisted metal and expending propellant burning momentarily in the vacuum before it boiled and froze at the same time...
And then. She was clear.
The missile's warhead spiraled uselessly into the black, finally detonating relatively harmlessly in open space, bursting into a cloud of sparkling debris. Above and behind her, a few of it's compatriots hit home, causing untold carnage. Jet would swear she saw someone blown out a shattering window... a humanoid figure trying to swim desperately back in, reaching for safety that was getting further away by the second... before going dreadfully still. He seemed to ask the question... why not my ship?
Max's voice crackled into her mind. "Come on! That's only the first wave. Next salvo's coming in. Get moving. Try get more than one this time."
There was no arguing with that, as much as Jet wanted to. Just keep going. Jet'd already picked her next target.
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-------
It didn't take long to get into a rhythm... as crazy as it was. Surprising how that happened. It'd almost become a game. How many could she get before impact? Don't think about what happens afterwards. Just get back out to hit the next salvo. They were still coming in. Still a distance out. Wreckage was burning in space. Debris pattered off her armour. Ships were starting to move. Defenses were starting to come up. Jake got hit by a friendly missile defence battery. Gone. Just like that. So much debris. Keep going Max orders.
Don't think. Do.
There was so much noise over their radios... they had to switch frequencies just to be able to communicate with each other. Only Max and Jet still had the OGJ frequencies loaded. Crazy chance saw them being the only ones with the new operational encryptions. Jet could hear the panic giving way to calm. The hard part was over.
Last missiles. Next comes the dropships.
Jet angled in... smash goes one. Adjusting her vector, she aimed for the second. It just disintegrated. Then to a third. A fourth. The Fifth was too far away and she cursed it.... the ships own defences took it out. High and infront of her, she saw Max dive towards one of the last stragglers.
He disappeared into a flash of burning orange, and a spray of wreckage.
"Engel one, Engel three" Jet tried.
Silence.
"Engel one, Engel three," she tried again, desperation creeping into her voice. "Answer me!"
Silence
"Engel one, Engel three," she yelled. "For fuck's sake Max answer me!"
Jet spinlocked for a moment. That..... that's not fair!
"Engel flight, [hq callsign]. Move to position 125-mark-40. Dropships inbound. Meet up with [whoever]"
For a few moments... Jet wasn't able to answer. She was waiting for Max. Max wasn't going to answer.
What do I do now?
Follow orders. Just keep following orders.
"Engel flight. This is Three. Orders are to move to position 125-mark-40. We're going after the dropships."
Her voice was breaking. Jet was scared beyond all belief...
"Engel flight, Wilco," she radioed back to command. "Engel one is down. This is Engel three."
"Engel flight. Take command Engel three."
She'd been afraid of that. Jet mumbled Shephards prayer and got going.
------
________________________________
--m(^0^)m-- Wot, no sig?
Meanwhile, my head has cleared up, with only a lasting linger of last nights 'planning for the next Eirtakon', so I edited my previous post and squeezed out some words.
----------
It was stupid. It was insane. It was daft as a brush and madder than the Professors Panel. It was desperation. It was the only chance. Missiles, bearing down on orbiting ships. Bearing down on defenceless orbiting ships. Max thought fast, thought like lightning.
"Intercept them! Knock them out of the sky!"
Jet thought he was insane at first. She wasn't the only one.
"Hit them just ahead of the tail, the warheads won't go off,"
Max managed to project confidence, the certainty that he was right, the certainty that if they pulled it off correctly, there wouldn't be so much as a paint-scratch. Jet wasn't quite sure why she was going along with this plan, or why she wasn't making a beeline straight down to the ground, or off into the black.
Her target streaked forward, trailing condensing vapour and ice. Anti-shipping missile. It's target was getting closer. Some lumbering waved transport. Jet could see it's engines begin to glow, thrusters exhausting as it tried everything to move. The missile tracked unneringly. One hit and that ship would just disintegrate.
Jet could run. Jet could leave them to it.... Jet really wasn't sure if she could live with the guilt of it.
Or was it just a case of Max order, she follow? It wasn't insane heroism, she told herself. It wasn't stupidity. She was only following orders! Sure that was easier to believe. Jet just couldn't say 'No' to her trainer. She assumed that was it.
Ten meters out, she realised she was doing her best to just keep her mind from fully realising exactly how dangerous this was. A few milliseconds. Everything running full bore. Thinking like lightning on an adrenaline rush, mind trying to cram as much as it could into these last few moments. Well... at least she got to kiss Ford... really kiss. Real skin touching skin with the sort of tingle waved alloys just didn't have. Cold hand on one side of her face. Warm fingers on the other....
Adjust a little bit. Missile's moving slower than she guessed. Ease in. Hold your breath. Grit your teeth and wham!
Jet hit so hard, with such a strong kick running up through her leg, she could've sworn the missile went off right then and there. There was a flash of twisted metal and expending propellant burning momentarily in the vacuum before it boiled and froze at the same time...
And then. She was clear.
The missile's warhead spiraled uselessly into the black, finally detonating relatively harmlessly in open space, bursting into a cloud of sparkling debris. Above and behind her, a few of it's compatriots hit home, causing untold carnage. Jet would swear she saw someone blown out a shattering window... a humanoid figure trying to swim desperately back in, reaching for safety that was getting further away by the second... before going dreadfully still. He seemed to ask the question... why not my ship?
Max's voice crackled into her mind. "Come on! That's only the first wave. Next salvo's coming in. Get moving. Try get more than one this time."
There was no arguing with that, as much as Jet wanted to. Just keep going. Jet'd already picked her next target.
-------
-------
It didn't take long to get into a rhythm... as crazy as it was. Surprising how that happened. It'd almost become a game. How many could she get before impact? Don't think about what happens afterwards. Just get back out to hit the next salvo. They were still coming in. Still a distance out. Wreckage was burning in space. Debris pattered off her armour. Ships were starting to move. Defenses were starting to come up. Jake got hit by a friendly missile defence battery. Gone. Just like that. So much debris. Keep going Max orders.
Don't think. Do.
There was so much noise over their radios... they had to switch frequencies just to be able to communicate with each other. Only Max and Jet still had the OGJ frequencies loaded. Crazy chance saw them being the only ones with the new operational encryptions. Jet could hear the panic giving way to calm. The hard part was over.
Last missiles. Next comes the dropships.
Jet angled in... smash goes one. Adjusting her vector, she aimed for the second. It just disintegrated. Then to a third. A fourth. The Fifth was too far away and she cursed it.... the ships own defences took it out. High and infront of her, she saw Max dive towards one of the last stragglers.
He disappeared into a flash of burning orange, and a spray of wreckage.
"Engel one, Engel three" Jet tried.
Silence.
"Engel one, Engel three," she tried again, desperation creeping into her voice. "Answer me!"
Silence
"Engel one, Engel three," she yelled. "For fuck's sake Max answer me!"
Jet spinlocked for a moment. That..... that's not fair!
"Engel flight, [hq callsign]. Move to position 125-mark-40. Dropships inbound. Meet up with [whoever]"
For a few moments... Jet wasn't able to answer. She was waiting for Max. Max wasn't going to answer.
What do I do now?
Follow orders. Just keep following orders.
"Engel flight. This is Three. Orders are to move to position 125-mark-40. We're going after the dropships."
Her voice was breaking. Jet was scared beyond all belief...
"Engel flight, Wilco," she radioed back to command. "Engel one is down. This is Engel three."
"Engel flight. Take command Engel three."
She'd been afraid of that. Jet mumbled Shephards prayer and got going.
------
________________________________
--m(^0^)m-- Wot, no sig?