TDF: Episode One: Pilot, Pilot.

[Fen Vel]

Space is big.

The huge unending enormity of it all enough to boggle the mind and maybe even lead it to a religious experience. Everyone hears stories of people that looked deep into the darkness and didn't like what they saw. For some remaining firmly on the ground, safe in the well of a planet is more than enough. It takes a certain kind of person, half egotist, half cavalier risk taker and ninety percent mad to want to fight in that vacuum that alone is so intent on killing most species that having someone else trying to do it on top, is overkill. That does not stop some, those mad, crazed, knights of the stars from rolling their dice and testing to see whether their number has come up. They exist all over the galaxy, some rewound, others not. Some have stories to tell that shake the bones, some don't even have bones left to shake. Others haven't told their stories yet, stories of loss, victory, defeat and blaster bolts arching over an azure sunrise.

It is hard to pick a place to start, the beginning is long and complicated so us start from the days leading up to that day. In deep orbit of a gem of a planet, Telos in the Outer Rim. Most of the galaxy doesn't think it so important. Hundreds of blue green planets are home to many all over, why this one? A agricultural world on the Hydian Way, a hyperspace route that stretched right across the galaxy. Most of the food grown was sold in Core, on planets so densely packed that there was no hope of farming. A quiet world, having known its share of galactic war it sits high and proud along the trade-route. Given it is the access from one side of the galaxy to the other it is as popular with smugglers as it is with traders, pirates and anyone else looking to get somewhere in a hurry. That means that security can be a problem, or it might be for many other planets in this situation. Most serious criminal elements have long learned that it is best to avoid the Telos system and go around rather than risk running afoul of a patrol picket. Sometimes though, the money is just too good, the crew too stupid or things don't go to plan. Almost every day the Telos Defence Forces scrambles a Squadron to one alert or another.

As stated Space is big, it takes a certain series of events to catch a determined foe in its grasp.

Marley Outland was as the name implied not a native Telosian, she considered herself almost one though. Her adopted home felt right, real and more off than not it agreed with her. There were few bad memories attached here, a job, a life, a purpose and it was fun. Some planets she could be certain were dull places to be a pilot, Naboo for example, how droll. She'd been reading about Naboo since it had come up, nothing too interesting but those waterfalls reminded her a lot about, old home. While she might not stoop to reading about Alderaan and might pretend that she didn't care that much about it, or miss it, or people. The data-pad rested in her lap as she reclined back and reached up with her arms.

She was in the pilot's ready room for hanger one onboard Sennen Orbital Station, a military launch base and one of the two in medium Telos orbit with room for a few hundred staff and hangers for sixteen starfighters over six decks. Spartan to be sure and gravity tended to twitch every now and then, getting a little lighter. It was enough for a few months though, the company might not be great but there was a flight almost every day, free food, a bed. It was late afternoon by the stations clock, it felt far later though as today had been one of those days where nothing at all was happening. They'd covered the regional reports, done some Sith craft identification training and now nothing but being spare weight.

Dressed in a mustard yellow jumpsuit with a red leather jacket it was hard to make out what shape she actually was in the folds of fabric. The mass of long ginger hair and face would indicate a female human, the bored look in her green eyes told more. It seemed that today was going to go swanning by with nothing useful being done. It wouldn't be so bad if she was planet-side, able to go for a walk, anything. Dropping her arms Marley scratched her chin was about to drop herself back into the travel guide when, a foghorn like klaxon loud enough to wake the dead roared throughout the station. It was followed by a long ringing for several seconds but by then Marley was already on her feet, pad skittering across the floor. Her cap and support vest were pulled from the wall and over her head and she was half out of the door before the intercom, “Alert. Alert. Scramble. Scramble.” A male voice called out clearly but far from panicked. Everyone else was a hive of activity.

There was a corridor solely for pilots between the ready room and the hanger and Marley was quite adapt at scurrying along it, throwing herself around the hatchway into the bay she could see the crew chiefs clearing the hanger. There were six craft in the bay all of them the same, all of them being cleared. Her Bullfin was across the bay, right in the middle and everyone made sure to get out of her way as she reached the ladder. They had done this half a hundred times already, she knew the drill.

Suited, booted and now locked in she toggled the controls and checked the systems, green across the board, she could hear the murmurer of her talker over the intercom, “Engage reactor.” There was a hiss from lower on the spaceframe and another set of lights came on in the cockpit, “Power live, releasing umbilical, removing ladder.” On her end Marley primed the Repulsorlifts and checked the weapons tracking, deep breath. Down came the canopy, a thumbs up on the right hand side, same on the left. She nodded and she kicked forwards on the controls, just a tap. Pulling forwards she was the first out into the central section, everything had been cleared away by now.

“6-Y3, requesting final launch clearance.” Her voice was twanged with the somewhat too formal patterns of Alderaan.

“Clear for launch 6-Y3, course transferred 4.23 to intercept.”

“Confirmed, launching.” Again she feathered the controls before pushing harder. The repulsors allowed her to slide over the deck like it was grease, then she was already through the shield. The second she left it, the gravity went with it, leaving the repulsors good for only one thing, turning the starfighter in the emptiness of space. The main engines flared and the course was set in, Telos filled the right side of the cockpit, space the rest.

------------

“Intel to 6 Squadron element, we have one freighter and two single seat craft that have escaped a police operation and are making for an escape trajectory, they will break atmosphere within three minutes. You are to offer them a chance to surrender, if they refuse you are authorised to use force. Happy hunting."

Spoiler: OOC

This will be a space battle, taking place in space with some space physics which for that don't know means that once you start going in a direction you keep going in that direction until you actively thrust against it. Keep in mind that other players may or may not be moving relative to you and if you have any questions shoot me a PM.

The smugglers have blasted off the planet after a pirate base was raided by planetary police. They have to escape the planet's gravity well/charge their hyperdrives to escape. While subject to change pending how things go it can be assumed they will be able to escape after 5-6 rounds of posts. I don't expect anyone to die, however it is still completely possible.

@Tristar @Siah

 

[Tristar]

"Alert."
The jumbled mess of comforters, blankets and other articles of clothing shifted slightly as the lights within the room turned sinister red, the wailing of an alarm going off reverberating within the tiny confinements of the metal box. The next incidence of the synthetic and calm voice came very shortly, this time the warped rumbling spouting the call to scramble twice. The mess of black hair popped out from what you'd call a bed, if a bed looked like the jungles of Felucia that mated with the dense surface of Kashyyyk; a hand flopped out from under the covers and groped around the edge of the bedside table, causing many other unimportant items to fall aside to their un-glorious pitfall. As soon as the hands touched the cool plasteen surface of the aviator goggles, a disheveled figure leapt out from the mountain of coverings. His clothes were wrinkled and reeked of staleness, but what was more unnerving was perhaps the murderously calm expression etched upon his face. As if the man had suffered from a severe paralysis of his facial muscles, he donned his boots and dragged his feet to the adjoining restroom. His back hunched, the trickle of water was the only sound that he wanted to hear, tuning out the blaring klaxons in the background.

Johann's cupped hands brought the water to his face, splashing a wave of freshness to his eyes, the dark circles yet to disappear; it was highly unlikely that water could remove the signs of sleep. He needed a cold shower, but he knew when to be urgent, and when to push off other arrangements for more selfish reasons. Pausing only to grab a small black rectangle from his bedside, the pilot trooped out to the corridor and paused to remember where he was supposed to head to reach the hangars.

As it turns out, it didn't matter- the station was built so as to purposefully funnel the pilot's quarters to the ready room in the most convenient fashion. Indeed, his due time of arrival could not have been timed well, catching the flash of red of their uniform as it turned into the corridor that lead to the hangars. His wingman or woman, perhaps. Hopefully one whom he could trust well to not crash and burn on their first un-planned flight. A finger hooked around a set of headphones and he was out of the prep room, sorely wishing for a cup of soy-caff or even synth-caff (The latter being equivalent to watered down bile, but when you had neither. . .) but sobered up when he broke into the hangar bay, taking a moment to let the view sink into him: technicians scurrying about carrying hoses and other materials to each other, maintenance droids wheeling around the heavier luggage. The Bullfins stood out, their sleek bodies calling out to him.

And his, very aptly so, caught his eye: the color of ivory and gunmetal grey, the crosses upon his wings was clear enough indication of its owner. He noted his lack of the jacket around him, feeling lighter than his wingman whom he immediately spotted climbing into her fighter. Miss Oakland, a. . .pilot who knew how to fly, admittedly. He had his doubts of course, but that was true to every other jockey he met on the strip: full of hot air and the lust for glory, until the very same lust had turned back on them, spewing green lasers. An eyebrow raised expectantly as her Bullfin rose and cleared the hangar.

His turn, he supposed. He half-jogged, half-walked to his Bullfin, smiling at the painted words by its side: Feuerschwinge, as if any other ship had the glory as his workhorse. She'll do, he reminded himself as he seated himself comfortably into the cockpit, feeling the pressure bottle up- she'll do. Slipping the headphones after his aviator goggles, the pilot ran through the summary drill in silence, letting the ship speak to him with a low purr of her reactors as they began to warm up. The radio crackled to life and he spoke, his body merging into the hulk of metal that protected him as he lifted off the ground and angled his front to the hangar shields. "Sennen Station, 6-Y. . . ."

"6-Y2, repeat your last, over."

". . .Sennen Station, zis is Feuerschwinge, requesting final launch clearanz."

"Confirmed for launch 6-Y2, course transferred 4.23 to intercept."

"Jawohl," he replied tersely, pushing the throttle slight. "Feuerschwinge launching."

_______________________________________
​

“Intel to 6 Squadron element, we have one freighter and two single seat craft that have escaped a police operation and are making for an escape trajectory, they will break atmosphere within three minutes. You are to offer them a chance to surrender, if they refuse you are authorised to use force. Happy hunting."

"Feuerschwinge verstehen." The pilot took in the scenery of space, the same feeling he had when he first flew returning back to him like an old lover. All he heard was the silence of his cockpit, which was quite loud once your reality sank into the present- the hum of the reactors at cruising speeds, the various electronics chattering away drumming into his head. And this was why he palmed the black rectangle from before, sliding it into the offered receptacle and hitting the play button. Nothing at first, but a moment later the soft humming of the acapella singers filled the space around him, setting him at ease almost instantly, their familiar voices singing sweetly. . . "Blackbird singing in the dead of night~ . . ."

The corners of his mouth stretched upwards, his expressions more relaxed within his protective cocoon, only inches of plexiglass between him and the eternal black. Thumbing the intercom button, he hailed his fellow wingman, lowering the volume of the cockpit's audio players so that his voice wasn't marred by the sweet tenor and bass voices of the four others. "6-Y3, Feuerschwinge: You see me?" He tipped his craft left and right for emphasis, flying 'below' to her right, the black of his ship merging inconspicuously with space, while the stark whiteness broke his fighter's silhouette at a distance. In short, it wasn't just his ego that painted the ship with contrasting colours.

"Ze verfrachten- frieghter- typical schmuggler craft, ja? Cowerd, he vill probably use ze ozers to slow us down vhile his hyperspace reactor charges: ze problem is, vhen ze shooting starts, who do you vant more? Ze fat one, or ze thin one?" he paused his question to chortle at his own joke, before resuming the message. "I leave ze negotiationz to you, fraulein. Feuerschwinge out." Releasing the intercom button, he leaned to the right and veered away, keeping a distance between the both of them in a gesture more akin to a physical nod.

The skies was theirs.

@Siah

 

[Siah]

The canteen, always the place to go when looking for companionship or friends. The canteen on Shennen Orbital Station was lifeless. A barkeep was scuffling about behind the bar, clinking the odd glass together. The only two patrons were an older man with thinning white hair and Talon Vaash. They were playing a nondescript game of cards. The Telosians had known each other a while and Talon had really taken a liking to the janitor of Shennen Station. Talon downed the last bit of his cool coffee and grimaced. He tended to lose track of time and had, yet again, forgotten about drinking his coffee.

With a slight whistle through his teeth, he placed down a few cards and gave the old man a wry smile. The old man was just about to counter when the alarms started. The signal for urgent attention was followed by actual instructions moments later. Talon nodded to the old man as he stood up and stretched, "Rematch." He winked and left the canteen at a jog.

He was in the hangar moments after Marley and Johann. They'd just pulled out through the shields when he entered his Bullfin Starfighter. A young cadet was there to meet him and handed him his flight jacket and utility belt. "Thanks bud, owe you one." The young cadet merely smiled response as he backed away from the ship, Talon had owed him 'one' for months now.

Talon weaved his eyes over the dials and instruments. He flicked the switch for powering the engines, "Boom." Then he released the fuel umbilical, "Swish." Finally he retraced the ladder and wheel brakes, "Zip."

Hearing Johann's confirmation of launch, Talon activated his repulsors and levitated the vessel a few meters from the ground. He spun the vessel to face the shielded entrance. The shield flittered as Johann's Bullfin went through.

"6-Y1, you are permitted to begin start-up procedures," came the monotone voice of the intercom.

"Thank you, control. On my way out now."

"6-Y1, you're not permitted to launch, there are other craft -" Talon fired up his thrusters in the hangar and his ship was beyond the shield a moment later. He enjoyed the openness of deep space and wondered what this mission had in store for him. He received a communication...
“Intel to 6 Squadron element, we have one freighter and two single seat craft that have escaped a police operation and are making for an escape trajectory, they will break atmosphere within three minutes. You are to offer them a chance to surrender, if they refuse you are authorised to use force. Happy hunting."
"Well, this'll certainly be interesting." He thought, they had a head start, but they still had to break atmosphere.

Hearing Johann over the comms, Talon decided to chime in, "So... we have a little game of tag? I personally know people who would kill to get a job where your daily task is to play tag. I might just tag them in the holonet broadcast of this mission." He stopped a moment to realign one of his inertial thrusters. He decided he'd invert the thrust and give the other party a decent surprise.
"Do we have a plan?" he asked. He was wondering if this'd be a good time to make use of his command training, shrugged, and thought better of it.

 

[Fen Vel]

Marley swore under her breath, polite as could be. Today she was paired with the flying circus then. A hotshot with an accent so fill it could be used to fill a particularly incompressible jam scone and a commanding officer who seemed to thing plans were an optional part of the operation. It just had to be these two, at once on an call like this didn't it? Sweet karma and all that, called to test her resolve.

Casting a lazy eye over his to his craft that was catching up to her she pushed a button on her control panel, "Yes, yes, I see you Yellow Two." He was like a child looking for attention, needing to show off, to blow his ego all over the walls. It was far from how she felt a pilot should act, or a man for that matter. Still she humoured him just enough not to snap back at his antics at least this time, "That's for the best old boy, I'm sure you would like to chase some thin tail anyway." Where was the proof of being an exceptional pilot in taking down the shields and engines on a lumbering freighter? A lot more than you might think but Marley was certain that Kass would rather the more storybook type of hero for his own self image. Then picking up on the glint that was coming up behind them, "Here he comes."

An eye roll later Marley took a breath, was that really the inspiring words of their leader? It was all well and good for the chaps to have a bit of banter and treat it like a game or a joke. He should take the whole deal a might more seriously, he was the one meant to be in charge after all. Tilting her Bullfin to the right and holding it there she made enough room for 6-Y1 to take the point on their flight and let Telos fill the greatest part of her canopy. In space with three dimensions and no resistance it made sense not to fly in straight wedges, Marley like the standard doctrine best, a flying starburst with each craft tilted to a different angle. "You are aware that you have described the role of a rather lazy daycare worker sir?" The were falling towards the planet as they swung around it, speeding up without using too much fuel. The numbers ticked on by but for right now the planet still blocked their sensors, it would be a dead two minutes before they came around. It was still fast though, their targets still had to escape the atmosphere and build their speed up directly.

"Flight Leader Kaas was kind enough to ask me to carry out the formalities and swagger the postman, unless you want to do so sir?" The plan to her was to go by the book, just before entering firing range to issue a final warning. Then see how the enemy were split, if they were flying any sort of guard formation then the pilot at the back went for the freighter, the others for the fighters and pull them away. Nothing flashy, if all went well then nobody died, not that smugglers normally let things go well. The prospect of being arrested, serving a term and then being turned over to the next on a long list of planets that wanted them made surrender an unlikely prospect. It would be a short fight, like several others they had done. Maybe they'd all get away, that was a loss. If the pilots were good then they'd tag one of them and the freighter would get away, if not then the freighter would buy it.

Spoiler: OOC

Our Smugglers seem to be MIA, I'll try and find more but if not I'll NPC them.

 

[Tristar]

Perhaps it was the sound of music in the internalized cockpit, but the pilot was fairly certain he detected a faint trace of irritation in her reply but that was nothing compared to what he outright noticed to be distaste for their Squadron Leader. Now personally, he was all for free will and every individual's right to act in a manner they saw best fit to their appearance: condemning someone for it just because it wasn't to one's liking felt- wrong, which was saying something given his sin-ridden soul at this point. No harm done at least, as he listened in to their banter with muted silence, far too interested in making sure he would be able to catch the smugglers when they broke atmos'. Flying as they were, they would trail their ships until they reached a point where they would be nose-to-tail distance with the smugglers; his eyes flickered as he saw 6-Y1 cut back his thrusters in a move that would invariably put him in an interesting position.

By interesting, he undoubtedly meant that Talon was going to angle himself above-and-behind for a surprise attack when the barrels glowed green- then again, he wasn't Talon, and whatever tactic he had in mind was best kept to himself. In his experience, explaining something en-route to a combat flight was the easiest way to send six of your fifteen into a hay wire of confused patterns, half-arsed maneuvers and hilarious misses. Yet to say he was putting a lot of faith in Talon's tactic working out wasn't correct either. Thumbing the button once more, he chipped in after Mary: "Nein, kapitan: Nicht plan."

Depressing the button, Kaas felt the urge to pitch in another sentence. "Don't try anything complicated." Leaving the communicator activation button alone, the pilot began to focus more on flying, although truth be told there was hardly anything for him to do: Keeping at their current speed so as to keep a good reserve of fuel for the incoming dogfight, this was the boring section that left much to be desired. Closing his eyes for a second, Johann ran a thought in his mind; would it work? Would that maneuver be too risky? What if? A combination of a flurry of repressed anxiety and doubts were all demons a pilot would have to face one day, sooner or later.

Nein. Not today, he decided.

__________________________
​

He saw them, small pricks of strobes that were unmistakably the port lights of a freighter and accompanied by the minute flashes of two single-seaters. Feeling a little self-conscious, Johann killed his lights and gave himself a little acceleration before cutting power to his engines. His ship glided through the black sea, propelled forward thanks to his momentum- it was the closest thing you could have to a stealth cruise with the starfighter, but not really: doing so would require him to somehow douse his EM and heat signatures, but given the rush of their fleeing targets it wouldn't matter. Keeping a steady hand on the trigger he made slight adjustments of his trajectory with his thrusters, aiming slightly ahead of the flight path of the smugglers in anticipation of a quick escalation of violence. Awkward as it was for him to be technically drifting to his right, it would be even more so if all of this was for nothing.

What about his two other pilots? He gave a mental shrug, knowing that even if they represented this backwater planet's aviation leadership they had very little to connect with each other, both personally and when it came to flying. Each of them had their own styles of dominating their fields, so why bother restricting each other for the sake of forced cooperation? Working together, that form of single-minded purpose when you flew with another stranger, that came with months or years of flying together. No point trying to force it.

"Sehr gut, mein kamerad." he crooned softly, body tensed and a hand poised over the power consoles; an excuse, that was all he needed to dump power into the engines and cut through them. "Sehr gut. . "

 

[Siah]

Talon was checking his nav-screens and sensors when he heard Marley's crisp voice over the comms. He smiled. She was a breath of fresh air, and considering he was breathing his own recycled air, that was welcome. The three ships streaked across the speckled expanse. He loved the vastness of space, it was far more to his liking than his father's military career.

Johann confirmed that he'd not considered any options as yet. Marley, the brains behind the operation, informed Talon that the plan was to attempt a negotiation. Talon thought on this a moment, "Okay, you swagger. Maybe they'll stand down. If they don't... I'm going to overshoot the shuttle and take out its aerofoils from the front, where the shields will be weakest. I don't want that shuttle escaping." He flipped his lasers to full power.

Johann's remark on taking chances on something complicated caused the Captain to chuckle. "Now Johann, when have I ever tried something complicated?" Talon asked with feigned shock.

Moments later the pirate vessels were in line of sight. Their sensors would be reeling from the atmospheric strain and the squadron would be undetectable for a few seconds. Talon noticed immediately that there were indeed three vessels. He smirked as Johann's emissions faded to a very dull beep on his sensors. "Clever, mein komerad..." he thought.

Following suit, Talon killed his emissions and let the exponential momentum carry him towards the pirate vessels.
"Marley you begin the negotiations and lock onto which ever ship is closest to you. Johann, you stick with the Starfighter that's furthest from Marley. Lets bring them all home."

Having just left the atmosphere of Telos, the three pirate vessels were just gaining velocity and it wouldn't be too much effort for the seasoned squadron to catch up to them. The larger shuttle was pouring all its effort into the gravitational escape. The two single-seaters had actually throttled down so as not to outpace the shuttle. "Typical rooky mistake", thought Talon. Any pilot worth half his weight in credits would have throttled out of atmosphere and secured the space-lane. These pirates were probably half-wits who wanted to 'stick' with their bounty.

With his inertial thrusters setup for his flanking manoeuvre, Talon advanced on the shuttle.

 

[Fen Vel]

They were flying an intercept, any normal pilot trying to make their escape would be pushing the thrusters to their limit to make their escape. That was what they had lined up for, the speed they'd built up from the orbital slingshot. It might look like a rooky mistake, even a stupid one but it was effective. Made all the worse by her squadron mates making assumptions. They might be hoping to surprise the targets but they'd also increased their reaction times, it was a cockup. They were going to intercept the target all right, for all of three seconds before they shot right on by while the targets would have the advantage. Unless of course Yellow Squadron pulled something rather spicy to make up for their blunder.

Opening up the encrypted communications to her flightmates, "We've fluffed it, coming in too fast." There was no choice but to pull up and try and burn off some energy before coming back around on their targets on her end. That would be bad enough accept it was exactly when the freighter, which was clearly an Alabaster opened up with its dorsal turret. She hadn't even tried to communicate with them, then this was apparently an ambush that they had fallen into. Arcing upwards away she was pulling some Gs as she looped over to bring herself back behind the target. If the others hadn't pulled their own maneuvers, they would end up overshooting the target and passing by to their starboard. Panicked they might be but these smugglers seemed to know their stuff. With one turret forcing Marley to be more evasive that she would like, the ventral turret opened up on Kaas with little more than optimism as its targeting solution.

The two escorts, keeping their speed down before let out a burst of acceleration as they pulled away from the freighter as a pair, placing themselves that they would be able to fall into Talon's rear unless he pulled something rather exceptional out of the bag. The smugglers had played to their strengths, this was much tighter than any interception had any right to be right now. It didn't help that the shields on the Alabaster were rather beastly, they'd have to deal with the fighters first.

Marley kept breathing and focused on bringing herself about, a thrust to the side here and there to throw off their targeting sensors. Upside down and realigning her shields just encase she could see the dogfight starting to unraveling bellow. The best course of action she could see seemed to be to drop in behind the fighters once they had made their move. That depended on what everyone else did in the chaos and if they could work as team or not.

Spoiler: OOC

If you have any questions PM me, try to keep your posts somewhat short and clear and we'll blaze through it.

 

[Tristar]

The moment the smugglers sprung the trap Kaas knew they had made the mistake of being too comfortable with winning to many times- the thought of ambush hadn't popped up in his mind, overconfidence causing a terrible blindness. Nonetheless he had prepared for this eventuality, pushing down his throttle as he diverged all available power to engines that sent his Bullfin at a very rapid 45 degree drop. The sudden pressure of artificial gravity wasn't as mounting as the thought of the trail of lasers behind him, inaccuracy that wasn't the fault of the turret gunner as it tried to account for the sudden shift of course. Despite exposing himself even further to the ventral turret he was quite literally in the safest place he could be in the freighter's bubble of fire- a ship of that scale or any ship in general- didn't have as many turrets on their underside than they did on the top. A single turret wasn't a thing you scoffed at, but when you considered the fact that turrets mostly relied on volume of fire to take out their targets, Kaas flew with an untroubled mind.

Still, his teammates could have been in a better position: Mary was left to deal with a big hunk of metal with enough dorsal turrets to cause her enough trouble and Talon had two starfighters hounding after his tail. The red blips on the radar however, were more menacing than the actual craft themselves. Even so he didn't want to leave it to chance, and executed a two-angle roundabout in a U-turn, burning fuel past the group. At a sufficient distance Johann blocked power to the engines once more as he turned 180 with his thrusters, his momentum carrying him backwards; even from afar his eyes spotted the familiar two fighter element, one trying to make nose-and-tail distance with Talon while his wingman hung back and below to cover his blindspot- but he didn't have anyone covering his own rear, and the pilot took advantage of this. Dumping fuel and power to engines to cancel the momentum, the black-and-white Bullfin rocketed in after the second flyer.

At several hundred meters he eased the pressure to the engines, ignoring the dangerous readouts that slowly fell to a bearable level- the technicians wouldn't be happy with the state of the engines, what with him pushing it to the absolute limits like this. With the holographic aiming reticule flickering on Kaas steadied his breath and fired a small barrage, watching in annoyance as his target jinked around and evading most of the critical shots- radar must've warned his presence way earlier, negating his blind spot. Nonetheless his target began to veer off to the left, trying to shake Johann and leaving Talon with but a single starfighter to deal with; wasn't the best situation regardless, but he had less cannons firing his way. For his part, Johann had to chase after his own target, letting loose another withering barrage as he kept to the escort's trail, a small sense of satisfaction rising in his heart as several of the green traces scorch away at the shielding: a few more shots, he'd leave his prey stark naked.

Mostly likely to be dealt with torpedoes- they had more pertinent matters nagging, like the big hulk trying to get rid of Mary. "6-Y1, you owe me." he radioed to his squadron leader, making small adjustments to his flight course to match his prey's. Feeling a little frisky, he broadcasted on a nearby transmission. Their radios, were they not mute would suddenly be filled with his voice, calm and collected as it was: "Achtung, zis is Feuerschwinge. If you vish to be left unmolested, stand down immediately, verstehen?"

"Go to hell."

"Bestätigend; I varned you."

 

[Siah]

Talon was blazing through the heavens as he and his companions came upon the smugglers. Marley gave a warning that they were approaching too fast, they'd overshoot. Talon nodded to himself. He was not aware of any criminals who would give up at the first sign of the law. His instincts had paid off, but only partially as he hadn't suspected an ambush. He saw laser fire ripping through space.

"Ugh!" He grunted. It seemed that the team had been forced to change targets and they were now in the back foot. The captain disengaged his engines to idling. His Bullfin's inertia carried him past the freighter, he'd mistaken it as a transport shuttle. As he passed the motley squad of criminals, he picked up a tail. He glanced quickly at his instruments and calculated that the vessel was not at a prime angle for firing, as they'd still be positioning themselves for free-flight in space. Overshooting the freighter, he saw it's turret tracking Marley. It was doing a good job at throwing volumes of lasers about.

Relying solely on instinct, he flipped on his inertial thrusters. The Bullfin reacted instantly, and it rotated on it's y-axis as it passed the starboard side of the freighter. Talon fired at the turret, the lasers dissipating harmlessly on the shields. He kept his right hand on the joystick to maintain firing, while he used his left hand to 'track' the freighter with applying precision adjustments to the inertial thrusters. He was almost out of firing range and his tail was closing. He'd not taken out the turret yet.

Talon saw Johann's surgical removal of the wingman, "6-Y1, you owe me."
He smiled. "I'd like to run a tab," he answered.

Talon sacrificed any further attempts at the turret to execute his initial plan. One last salvo flew from the Bullfin as Talon shot out of range. There was a slight tremble in the freighter's course as Talon's lasers found their mark. The starboard aerofoil lost its stabiliser and its servo's were straining to keep the freighter on course. He'd just about disabled the steering capabilities of the freighter, unfortunately the shields had done their job well. Talon hadn't counted on such heavy shielding and for a split second he wondered what cargo would have such heavy shields.

A moment later the Ascension did a catapulting arc as Talon fired up his main thrusters again. Using his inertial thrusters on the y-axis and his main thrusters pushing forward, he was able to momentarily track his adversary. The enemy Starfighter was firing at him, trying to get a good shot in. Unable to successfully predict Talon's unorthodox flying style, the pilot now found himself receiving heavy fire from an arcing Starfighter. Talon and his duelling partner were now in front of the freighter, Talon was on the port side of the Starfighter and veering towards it. He tracked the Starfighter as the smuggler tried an overhead arc.

Talon heard the reply from a smuggler to Johann's warning.

"Go to hell."

"Well, that's the greenlight to engage," he advised in his best formal voice, they'd already been fired upon. "Marley, watch out for that turret they've got ammo to burn and aren't shy to use it. They've got some shielding on their booty too. I couldn't disable the aerofoil but they're definitely not at full manoeuvring capabilities. I'll handle my new friend," he said, referring to the Starfighter.