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Latus
May the Quartz be with you.
850 posts
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Ain't got time for this. (?°?°??? ???
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last online Jun 27, 2014 19:37:36 GMT -5
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Oct 20, 2009 22:37:14 GMT -5
Post by Latus on Oct 20, 2009 22:37:14 GMT -5
((Location: Corellia Participants: Sev, Sam; Republic Military)) -6 Years Ago- 0559. Sunrise. The light of the Corell was just peeking across the horizon, clouds and mist blending together to cast a brilliant purple hue over the low hills and across the plains. Moments after dawn the light fell upon a cluster of buildings sheltered in the sight of several old trees. The buildings consisted of a handful of small elongated shacks, three medium sized buildings, from which clouds of dull smoke were already pouring, and four cavernous hangars overlooking a massive duracrete runway. Several uniformed figures walked here and there about the place making barely a sound, weapons strung over their shoulders. A sense of peace and serenity seemed to linger across the settlement as the warming glow continued its arduous journey up the air strip, moist with the morning dew. 0600. "REVEILLE! REVEILLE! All hands heave out and trice up! The smoking lamp is lit in all authorized spaces. The uniform of the day is dungarees for E-6 and below, working khaki for E-7 and above. NOW REVEILLE!"*************** 0800. Runway 2E Fourty five figures stood lined two deep, squinting at the doorway of one of the cavernous Hangar One looking out over the rolling hills bathed in the warming yellow light. Sev hated reveille every morning. One would think that a normal internal clock would get used to such a rude outburst in two years of hearing it. Breakfast had been eaten in a rush. Sergeant Sevchenko wondered how anyone even had time to chew but Sev knew not to question it. Captain Xavier had ordered them all out ASAP for some manner of "briefing" he had cooked up. Every pilot there was on edge. Not only had they been standing at attention for nearly thirty minutes but none of them had left the ground in weeks. Their last skirmish with a group of deviants of one form or another had been nearly a month ago; none of those gathered enjoyed staying grounded for long. To make matters worse the simulator usually run in the back of hangar three had been taken out of commission; software failure. Sev was certainly no exception and he knew that when his men were restless things were bound to happen. Quickly he cast a glance behind him, catching the eyes of his five wingmates; Archer the talkative one, Hunter the silent one, Brathos the strong man, and Sam the youngest. Archer, took his glance as a green flag. Kriffin hell Sarge, where is h...Stow it Archer. Barked Sev, quickly cutting him off. An' I don't know. Ye know the Captain. Ee'll take his sweet ol' time.As if responding to his name the Captain, looking sharp as ever walked out of hangar one and through the line of pilots, making some of them jump in surprise. Though aged, the Captain looked his part. His uniform was an older style, the sun nearly glittered off his graying hair, and he wore a dignified hat that effectively stroked his already large ego; it had Captain embroidered on it. At ease gentlemen and ladies.Sev quickly dropped his hands behind his back and spread his stance; better. Looking to his sides the Sergeant saw the line do the same, Tha' ough' tae take some o' the edge off. Captain Xavier slowly looked up and down the line, a look of liquid neutrality dripping from his expression. Taking a deep breath he turned to address the entire line, his voice thundering through hangar one. As you know all too well its been a bit stagnant around here. Cap Command hasn't sent word of any new conflicts, ground or air; its not looking good for at least another month.Sev heard a barely audible sigh escape the lips of many a pilot behind him. Their training didn't let them groan so they had to cope and the Sergeant knew the sound well. The Captain must have heard or felt the air escaping their lips because he ran his eyes along the entire line. So I put in a call to command and got us an extra few rations of fuel.The Captain's semi-scowl slowly quirked into a semi-smile. Control is warming up. For "PT" today I want every man in a 'hawk and every 'hawk in the air. Safeties engaged unless permission is given. You will remain in contact with ground control at all times. Pilots with less than six months training will ride with an instructor. Do you understand that?!The line barked back in near perfect unison. A 'sir, yes sir' sang across every set of teeth, some made no attempt to hide their joy. Sev shot the Captain an approving smirk and received one in return. Moral is important, after all. Just... don't scratch the paint.************** 0815. Hangar One. Five figures, five aircraft. Five excited pilots and five aircraft that some may considered "excited." The 'hawks, freshly fueled by the ground crew, had sat silent for weeks. No longer. Sev stood astride the wing of his own aircraft, a decal of a golden coin pained at the tip of the canopy. I'm pretty sure th' Captain risked his neck tae get us this fuel. Try an' get your use ought o' it. Anyone got an idea for where we ought tae go? The badlands are only a few clicks south o' 'ere, some nice views this time o' year.The surprise was certainly not lost on Adamar. Fuel and an open ticket? Usually it was a recipe for disaster. Maybe with the Captain's neck on the line they would be more responsible.
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last online Jun 4, 2023 4:58:38 GMT -5
Master
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Oct 21, 2009 2:01:39 GMT -5
Post by Talau the Ever-Lurking on Oct 21, 2009 2:01:39 GMT -5
0530
Showers were wondrous things.
The blond had been wanting a shower since she’d fallen in bed last night, too tired to even undress. With the forced “downtime” the Sevens were facing, the young woman found as many things to work on as she possibly could. That meant a lot of time with the mechanics and working on the ‘hawks. That meant a lot of grease and sore muscles too. Reveille was at 0600 so…the only sensible time for a shower was now…before the sun came up…and it was still dark…and everyone was still asleep…and gods it sucked to be up this early!
0559
Corell was rising, the kiss of its rays lighting up the darkened abyss that was the sky and painting it in vivid hues of purples and pinks and blues in a reverse sunset. She was dressed already, combing her hair back and pulling it back into a braid, preparing for another boring day. With a sigh she leaned back against the wall and waited…
…bored.
0600
"REVEILLE! REVEILLE! All hands heave out and trice up! The smoking lamp is lit in all authorized spaces. The uniform of the day is dungarees for E-6 and below, working khaki for E-7 and above. NOW REVEILLE!"
Yep…right on time.
The speakers blared loud and clear through the crisp morning air, startling a few of her bunk mates up out of their beds. Kira even went so far as to practically fall out of hers…which earned more than a few chuckles from those awake enough to have noticed.
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0800 – Runway 2E
So here they were…forty five very life like statues, just itching to become real people and move around. They were all very prim and proper, standing there all clean and dressed and at attention…for 28 minutes and counting. Sam was keeping track.
That’s how bored she was.
A soft sigh escaped her as she attempted not to fidget, and she stifled a yawn. From beside her she could hear Brathos chuckle as her and she gave him a ‘what was that for?’ look from the corner of her eyes, one eyebrow raising. She knew better than to move much more than that…but Brathos was odd, it was almost like he could read her thoughts. Sometimes she wondered if he was a force sensitive. A corner of his mouth lifted in reply to her look and he repressed another chuckle. Hunter gave a mild roll of his eyes as he eyed the interaction and let out a sigh of his own…wasn’t the captain on his way YET?
As if on cue Sev eyed each of them in turn and Sam fought back a guilty look. As the baby of the group she was trying not to step on any toes and she wasn’t quite sure if Sev was annoyed or not. Only moments after Archer, the chatterbox of the wing, piped up...unknowingly echoing Hunter’s exasperated sigh. At Sev’s barked response, Sam’s eyes widened in an ‘osik, Archer’s in trouble!’ look, having to bite the inside of her cheeks to keep from smirking too much and fought back a laugh with a tightening of her muscles and a deep breath.
It was a good thing she did too.
Not but a moment later Captain Xavier appeared amidst them as if by magic. Letting out a sigh of relief at the fact that she’d managed to stifle her laughter, and thus not get herself into trouble, Sam was more than happy to drop into a much more comfortable stance. Standing at attention for so long was tough business and the ‘at ease’ was more than welcome. Thank goodness and about time...thought my body was about to become a giant knot with all that standing at attention. Finally settled in more comfortably, Sam was able to focus a bit better on the captain.
“As you know all too well its been a bit stagnant around here. Cap Command hasn't sent word of any new conflicts, ground or air; its not looking good for at least another month.”
A soft groan wormed its way through Sam’s vocal chords despite her attempt to suppress it…luckily the sound wasn’t much more than a sigh through her nose with a tinge of sound in the middle. If Sev or Brathos had heard it, it certainly wouldn’t have made it past them…if it had even made it TO them that is. She watched the eyes of Capt. Xavier wander along the lines formed before him and she, again, suppressed a look of guilt. Again a corner of Brathos’ mouth twitched slightly. Sam found that downright creepy…it was like he could read her emotions.
“So I put in a call to command and got us an extra few rations of fuel.”
The Captain's semi-scowl slowly quirked into a semi-smile and Sam couldn’t help but smirk. Finally…FINALLY…they might get to do SOMETHING other than basic PT and upkeep!
“Control is warming up. For "PT" today I want every man in a 'hawk and every 'hawk in the air. Safeties engaged unless permission is given. You will remain in contact with ground control at all times. Pilots with less than six months training will ride with an instructor. Do you understand that?!”
A 'sir, yes sir' echoed back at him with such enthusiasm Sam was almost certain the vibrations from the sound would blast that shiny hat right off the Captain’s head. She made no attempt to hide her joy, an impish little grin curling across her face.
“Moral is important, after all. Just... don't scratch the paint.”
If she could have kissed the Captain, she very well might have.
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0815 -- Hangar One
That bouncy ball of energy dubbed Samantha Zaftig flitted happily around her ‘hawk like a moth around a flame. She’d seen to her baby…tried not to hound the ground crew as the fueled her up, attempted not to pester Hunter as he’d checked his gear, restrained herself from pouncing on Brathos as he’d entered the hanger, kept herself from colliding with Archer as they both fussed over their aircraft, held herself back from bounding around Sev like an excited puppy…and now she was finally climbing the ladder to get into her beautiful, glorious, wonderfully amazing machine that was her ticket to the sky.
I'm pretty sure th' Captain risked his neck tae get us this fuel. Try an' get your use ought o' it. Anyone got an idea for where we ought tae go? The badlands are only a few clicks south o' 'ere, some nice views this time o' year.
Sam grinned and bounced on the balls of her feet slightly on the second to top step of her ladder, looking at the others excitedly.
I heard there’s some super twisting canyons over there…would make for a good flight course…then again, would make for a dangerous one too. Hmm…there’s the Agrilat…it’s got some nice views this time of day with the sun in the crystals and what not. They hold swoop races down there sometimes though…not typically this early, but…
She shrugged slightly and smiled a bit sheepishly. Yeah, she knew about the illegal swoop races held there…her father had been a smuggler after all. Not exactly the ‘law biting citizen’…and so Sam and grown up knowing about such things. Didn’t mean she often flaunted that knowledge, but it had happened to slip this time around. Oh well. If they asked she’d be sure to tell them straight out…if not…well, she wasn’t going to offer the information either way.
…droyk min min guerfel…
Sam grunted the curse at herself quietly as she bounced up the last steps and into her ‘hawk, pulling the safety harness on and clipping it securely before grabbing her helmet and balancing it on her leg as she waited for the others to debate it out. She just wanted to get GOING already!
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Latus
May the Quartz be with you.
850 posts
0 likes
Ain't got time for this. (?°?°??? ???
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last online Jun 27, 2014 19:37:36 GMT -5
Guardian
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Oct 24, 2009 18:25:58 GMT -5
Post by Latus on Oct 24, 2009 18:25:58 GMT -5
0816 Glancing calmly over at Sam as she spoke an idea slowly began to form in the flight leader's head. She mentioned the Agrilat, a known hangout for the scum and lawless of this sector of Corellia. The folk there had little to fear of reprisal though; it was so remote, out of the way, and the source for several types of drugs that the standing government left it alone. Maybe they would have to go have some fun. Archer quick to voice his opinion piped up, barely able to contain his excitement just like Sam. He was seated at the edge of his open canopy, one leg in the cockpit. I like that idea Sarge. Anything beats just sitting around here. Lets put this place to our tails! I'm jittery over here!And certainly he was. Archer, though not the youngest, was the most susceptible to his own excitement. Brathos and Hunter were the opposite end of the spectrum, calm. Brathos was laid back, relaxed unless he had someone or something in the cross hairs. Hunter most closely reflected the Sergeant himself, serious to a tee but rarely spoke. Sev smiles briefly and looked around at this wingmen. The Agrilat it is then. Mount up an' get in the air. Regroup at point Charlie eight niner at oh-eight fifty.The sergeant sighed, a mixture of tension and concerns exiting his body as he exhaled. From his wing Sev could see everything in Hangar one. Other 'hawks were already moving slowly out onto the rapidly filling taxiway. He smiled again knowing that some of the older pilots actually took off with their craft the old fashioned way. It was nothing short of amazing to him how humans must have learned to fly. Trial and error for decades, longer even, before they discovered it; fixed wing lift. Repulsors shot that technology full of holes, though here he was astride a near flawless marriage of ancient and modern tech. Shooting his wing of pilots another look he quickly clambered into the cockpit and slid into the solo leather seat. Quickly dropping his flight helmet over his ears he tapped the headset. Radio check, all wings report.Sev spared no time as the replies crackled through the helmet, he began the ignition sequence. Click. Boost pump, on. Thump on the starter... one, two three, four. The small craft shuddered as the two massive Tuman turbojets turned over, the sound of the ignition very quickly replaced by a whine that built higher and higher. Gauges, oil, fuel, coolant; good. Throttle up, five, ten percent. The whine became deafening, deadened only by the helmet on his head. Slowly Sev's foot eased off the wheel brakes and the craft rolled forward, his hand gravitating over the throttle and eased it back down controlling the acceleration. The great beast had finally awakened. Sev's hawk slowly followed its brethren through the exit and out into the sunlight of the bright Corellian day. Each hangar was emptying, ten or so hawks from each hangar split into groups of five; a squad leader and the squad. Sev couldn't see his wing, the Sixth, but he knew they were there. He felt his vehicle give an almost impatient whine as he slid into line for takeoff and it quickly transferred to him. He had only cared about getting his squad off the group, the selfish feelings pushed to the back of his mind were resurging. His left hand jumped from the trigger to a series of levers that were arranged on the nine o' clock panel. Twisting the ones marked H and R he felt the whine of the engines shift as the repulsor flaps on the underside of the chassis opened. Pulling his hand back to the throttle he slid it up, passing the ten percent output level and the small craft, rising like a feather in an updraft, slid vertically into the sky. At thirty feet Sev twisted the levers back around. The Firehawk shuddered again and he thrust the throttle foreword. In a blaze and a roar Sev rocketed away, his craft becoming a greenish blur over the nearest low hill. Six-lead Sevchenko to Ground Command. En route tae point Charlie eight niner. Good tae see ye again lads, its been a while. Squad Six'll be in touch.At their response and affirmative Sev opened up, taking his Firehawk into a series of barrels and long wide arcing turns. The shifting g-forces felt welcome and familiar as the Sergeant gained some altitude. At several hundred feet he banked back, looking out the side of his canopy as several more greenish blurs shot in his direction. It was going to be a good day. **************** 0843. Point Charlie eight niner. The lead Firehawk slowed to a hover over a large patch of trees some hundred-fifty feet below. Ahead of him, like a field of mirrors, was the Agrilat stretching off into the horizon. Sev wasn't sure but he could see something moving in and around the crystals in the distance; little specs of non reflective surfaces moving here and there. All the more fun. Sixth squad, sound off.
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last online Jun 4, 2023 4:58:38 GMT -5
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Oct 24, 2009 20:53:33 GMT -5
Post by Talau the Ever-Lurking on Oct 24, 2009 20:53:33 GMT -5
(( Brathos link 1 ... Brathos link 2 ... Link 3 ... link 4 )) 0818 – Hangar One So it was decided. The Agrilat it was…they were to meet at Charlie eight niner in 28 standard minutes…plenty of time to get off the ground, even with the lengthening taxi line. Brathos let out a short whoop of excitement and dropped his helmet onto his head, as the canopy closed over him. Well, it was good to see SOMONE beside herself and Archer show some enthusiasm! With a wild grin she pulled her own helmet on and flipped on her com. Zaftig reporting.With that check done, she was on to the flurry of the next ones. Grey eyes didn’t even need to see to go through them…she could do this in her sleep if she had to. The click of the ignition, the whine of the turbines…all necessary liquids in the green. As she pushed the throttle and that whine became a roar her heart went to her throat for a moment before settling back to thump in her chest at a pace with the jets behind her. Sarge, if I die right now, I think I’ll die happy.Let’s not have that happen, eh blondie? By the way, Sammy, you still got that bomber jacket in your hawk?Brathos…sweet guy…bit quite, sometimes a little gruff, but over all, he was a sweetie. She looked over her shoulder at her daddy’s jacket hung on the back of her seat and strapped on so it wouldn’t fly about. Yuppers…never leave home without it.She chirped back as she followed Sev’s tail out the hangar door. It was true enough, she never left home without the silly thing if she could help it. Brathos had asked her about it once when she’d been working on the ‘hawk with it on. She hadn’t told him the full story, but he could get the idea from what she had told him. The cocoa colored man hadn’t pressed the topic, but since that day he’d made sure to double check with her that she had it, and each time it was the same reply “yuppers, never leave home without it.” Good deal bomber chick. Don’t wanna have you have a bad day.The sun blasted into her eyes as she brought the hawk around out of the hanger doors, Sev’s hawk prepping to go vertical in front of her. Another leap of her heart and she was itching to get Sev out of her way so she could get the hell off the ground. Did’ja haff to go verti, Sarge? You’re holdin up the line back here.She was teasing him, mostly, and it was obvious since she got a chuckle out of Brathos and Archer…Hunter (as usual) was silent. Sometimes she wondered if the guy was alive. As her hawk slowed to a halt, she sighed heavily and waited for Sev to get his slow rear in gear. Finally…FINALLY…he lifted off the runway, allowing her hawk the space needed to taxi beneath him. Ol’val, min dulskal, ahn guld domina…see ya in the blue, Sarge. ((clear skies and good luck, my friend)) He was off in a blur of green as she spoke and again Sam’s heart did flips in her chest. She eyed the runway dubiously…it was pretty full out there, maybe she should take Sev’s lead? No way. No way in heaven or hell…half the fun was getting off the ground! How you gettin’ up there noobie?That you again Brathos? Don’t you ever give a girl a break? I swear you’re worse than those teens on their communicators all the time! You better cool it before I start thinkin’ you’re interested!She snickered and turned her head to see him and Archer filing out of the hangar at last. If you MUST know…there’s only ONE way for THIS girl to get off the ground, and it ain’t Sev’s way.With that she bumped up the throttle a bit before easing her hawk into the taxi line. Yeah yeah…I’ll come with you. Someone’s gotta keep an eye on the baby.Sam let out a (surprisingly realistic) baby cry that had Brathos cracking up. She almost thought she even caught a snicker from Hunter…but that HAD to be her imagination. Turning her attention back to the hawk, she checked the wing flaps, raising and lowering them, testing the systems she’d need for her proper flight, safety and landing. All go. Two hawks before her. Grey eyes scanned her panel, engines: green, flight systems: green, fuel: green. One hawk before her. She watched as its engines flared slightly before it was off like a bolt of green lightning. “Firehawk designation and destination.” Hawk 015 Zaftig sixth wing. Destination Charlie eight niner, systems green. Request take off.“Firehawk 015, runway is clear for take off. Free to go.” Sweet music to her ears! Her heart rate rose as she pushed the throttle slightly, the engine’s dull roar rising again before falling into the background noise. She let off the wheel brakes and felt her bird roll forward smoothly, the stretch of pavement extending out before her, already shimmering with the heat of the sun and use of the hawks. With a steady push on the throttle the hawk shot forward like an arrow from a bow. Nose up, front wheel off…there was the sky!...wings up, back wheels off…the press of gravity trying to keep her down. She thrust the throttle the rest of the distance to max and she broke free of the planet and into the sky like the birds. With a hoot of joy, she sped away after Sev. See you boys later, I’ll be sure to take pictures for ya.Poor ground command, having to deal with hyper, happy, and anxious pilots given the green for flight for the first time in a long time. Must have been biting their fingers down to the nubbins. Sam couldn’t have cared less. The further away she got from the base the more she itched to do some fancy wing work. Once free and clear of potential crossings with other hawks, she let loose with the loops and barrel rolls she’d been itching for. As if the adrenaline of takeoff hadn’t been enough, the shifting G-force ratcheted it up another notch. Her baby purred like a well fed kitten, seemingly happy to be free of the ground as much as she was. Finally, once she’d had her fill of adrenaline, Sam leveled off and cruised along, grinning like a madwoman behind her mask and visor. Skies were clear, Corellia was green, she was in a hawk and in the air…seemed like it was gonna be a good day after all. Good girl…you keep purrin’ like this and I think we’ll have us a right good day.~~ 0843 – Point Charlie eight niner Sixth squad, sound off.Sam had only just arrived a few moments ago, flipping her jets around so she could hover near Sev. Brathos, relaxed as usual, had gotten there just before her. With a few more motions she’d slowed and now sat hovering above the trees with the others. Brathos Anasazi, reporting.It didn’t take long for the others to chime in their names. Archer, Hunter, Sev…they’d all gotten their nicknames…hell, even Brathos had one. Bravo. When she’d asked him why it was ‘bravo’ he’d said it was because of a simple misunderstanding. The captain had thought he’d said his name was Bravo, not Brathos, and…unfortunately…it had stuck. Didn’t help much that he’d been pinned as the type to be all bravado when it came to whatever exploits he might have. Given his muscle builder physique, it wasn’t all that difficult to say something like that about the man from first glance…but once you got to know him, that was anything but the truth. Sam, however (as the baby), hadn’t gotten hers yet, and (fortunately for her) Brathos didn’t particularly like his name so he tended to use his given one instead. Samantha Zaftig, reporting.
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Latus
May the Quartz be with you.
850 posts
0 likes
Ain't got time for this. (?°?°??? ???
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last online Jun 27, 2014 19:37:36 GMT -5
Guardian
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Oct 24, 2009 23:09:33 GMT -5
Post by Latus on Oct 24, 2009 23:09:33 GMT -5
0843 – Point Charlie eight niner.
There is something otherworldly about flying a high technology jet fighter. Running his hands over the instrument panels, the throttle, the joystick, he got the feeling of power. It was more than the military grade missiles he carried beneath the wings, more than the twin blaster cannons on the nose, more than the tactical or strategic value of the craft; Sev, no, Adamar felt a connection with his craft. The Firehawk would tell him if something was amiss, run cooler/hotter if needed, bank a little tighter, add just that extra foot/pound of thrust; the aircraft became an extension of his being when he flew it. Being away from it for such a long time wasn't good for that connection. He closed his eyes as his craft sighed beneath him to the soft heartbeat of the roaring engines. Aside from the scream of his 'hawk the air around him was still, serene. The Sergeant's choice vertically take off had brought him to Point Charlie faster than his wing mates; nothing to do but enjoy it. He became suddenly aware of himself, a sensation similar to waking up from a full night's sleep. His thoughts were of the moment, the enjoyment that the present brought, of friends, of the future. His future lie before him; this is where he belonged. The Seven's were his family. Minuscule vibrations from the engines and an almost imperceptible jump from the joystick; Speak of the devil. He felt like a new person. Sev couldn't repress a smile but, hell, why repress it here?
Brathos Anasazi, reporting.
Samantha Zaftig, reporting.
Archer, reporting.
Hunter, reporting.
Each of the four hawks that appeared around him, his friends, his family; they all felt different. This was strange as each one was practically identical. Decals from each identified them close up but in the sky they were all destruction made real, green fury. To Sev they were as real as the pilots at their control. Archer's or Sam's almost had their personalities; cheerful, revved up, just wanting to be let off their chain. Brathos' and Hunter's ran smoother, quieter, almost as relaxed as their pilots. Adamar didn't know if they knew what he could see but, somewhere deep, he was certain. For a moment he could do nothing but hover; not speak, not take the throttle. Pilot and machine seemed to take in the moment as though this were paradise and it would only last so long. Archer's voice broke the silence though it was hardly unexpected.
Sarge? Six-Lead? You okay over there?
Sev's eyes flew open, fingers closed around the control column, both feet jumped to the yaw controls.
Great tae have ye all here at last. Snuggle Up Delta formation on me lads and lass. Stay tight and buster we'll be on the deck fer this one. Oh, an try tae keep up.
Simultaneously pulling the throttle to near zero and switching to flight mode Sev's Firehawk plummeted out of the group of hawks toward the ground below. The mix of vertigo, adrenaline, and the diminished whine of the engines got Sev's heart racing; NOW! Easing the throttle up controlled but firm the nacelles erupted in red flame as the Firehawk accelerated faster and faster until lift took over at a mere twenty feet above ground level. Gradually Sev's heartbeat returned to normal and he quickly glanced back at his wingmates as they smoothly jockeyed into formation behind him vanishing from view behind the wings and body of his Firehawk. Pulling back on the joystick the squad arched over a low hill and swept down into a tree dense valley like a subsonic fog. Adamar felt at one with his craft, the excitement or man and machine nearly flowing over into his movements. He could almost hear the roar of the engines and creak of hydraulics in his voice as he spoke into his headset.
We're gonna be buzzin' a few swoop jockeys this morning. Saw 'em earlier. No shooting needed, just gonna scare th' ever loving Sith out o' 'em. Feel free tae break off after th' first flyover an' have some fun with 'em.
The crystal formations of the Agrilats loomed near as the green fighters shrieked in, low and fast. The swoop pilots would hear them coming but only moments before they hit. Banking gently around one of the larger clusters of crystal trees Sev lined his team up with the starting straightaway of the Swoop Circuit and dove until he could see his jetwash picking up a trail of fine dust in the reflection of the canopy; no more than fifteen feet off the ground. Sev could see a respectable number of swoops on the course a group directly in front of his squad just leaving the starting gate.
Sevens! Tally ho!
The shriek of five pairs of Tuman turbojets must have been deafening as the Firehawks streaked across the starting point of the course. BOO! A look of sheer maniacal joy condensed into a spry smile Sev pulled gently back on the joystick and pulled his hawk into a gentle climb banking to the right as they climbed. Looking up he could see the starting gate and nearly laughed out loud. Whatever they had done it had worked. The riders on the line had very little time to react. Some fell off their bikes and dropped prone, others had taken off in fear and were swerving madly, others were stunned apparently unable to move at all. Laughing Sev called into his headset, ready to turn the others loose.
They're all yours!
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last online Jun 4, 2023 4:58:38 GMT -5
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Oct 25, 2009 6:14:45 GMT -5
Post by Talau the Ever-Lurking on Oct 25, 2009 6:14:45 GMT -5
Sev was silent even after they sounded off.
That was…unusual…to say the least, but Samantha didn’t let it get her down. No sooner had Archer piped up than Sev seemed back to normal, the awkward and uncomfortable radio silence easily forgotten as that odd (to her anyway) accent cut the waves. Sam watched as his bird plummeted like a rock and she shot out after him, taking a steep dive after him…a hawk stooping on her prey.
YEEHAW!
Brathos let out a hoot and followed behind the others hot on their tails. With a light tug on her control yoke she brought herself up behind Sev, slipping in between him and Brathos with a mischievous little giggle.
Ladies first Lorrdian.
Yeah, Ladies first, but kids ride in the back seat, make room pup…I call shotgun.
With a playful groan and a teasing grumble that sounded oddly like ‘male domination’ she looped backward, up and over Brathos’ hawk, coming in behind him. Her hawk jittered a little as she dropped back away from his jet wash and played follow the leader with Sev. As Sev laid down the plan she couldn’t help but grin. Hell, she could all but feel the same thing from all of the others. With a light pat to her control panel, Sam snickered loudly at the thought of a bunch of druggies and swoop jockeys running for their lives from a bunch of jets come to run them down.
She glanced about at the various crystal formations they flew past, glittering in the new day sun like a thousand stained glass shards stuck into the ground and melted together to form amazing and mind boggling designs. It really was rather splendid to see, and the view was only made better by the company. Finally she was pulled out of the moment as grey eyes caught sight of the line of swoopers headed for the starting line. ”Ohmahgawd this is gonna be SO much fun!” The thought echoed about in her brain for a moment as she banked with the rest of the sixth, her wing nearly touching the ground, and there before them…a bored fighter pilot’s dream come true. Illegal racers and strung out druggies never expecting the green fury about to be unleashed upon them. Oh what a day this was gonna be!
Sevens! Tally ho!
Three cheers echoed back at him (Hunter only grunted his approval) as they sped down the straightaway. If her harness hadn’t kept her from doubling over, she might have with the laughter. As the team banked up and away from the makeshift track, Sam could see the scattering crowd and the mass of confusion they left behind. It was like a comedy…only she was living it. Some of the riders had fainted dead away, others went speeding away like madmen (as if they could outrun a jet, HA!), still others sat frozen like stone…she could only imagine their faces! She was laughing her head off, and she could hear Brathos chortling away, Archer pointing out the various sights they were just now returning to. Even Hunter let out a guffaw before falling silent again.
Oh mah gawd, did Hunter just laugh?...Was that a guffaw I heard? Who are you and what’ve you done with our Hunter?! IMPOSTOR! IMPOSTOR!
They’re all yours!
Almost immediately five hawks went five different directions.
The poor crowd didn’t know what to do with themselves.
As Sam swooped down low and slow over the swoops again, she switched to VOTL and wheeled around to face them, a good 20 feet off the ground as she eyed them like she were eying a group of toys and deciding which one she wanted to play with first.
Immediately they scattered in all directions….except for one. He just sat there, looking up at her as he stood beside his swoop. For a moment the two just looked at each other…then Sam burst out laughing, throwing her hands up in the air for a moment. Well now if that didn’t take the cake!
Oi, Sev…I think this one here pissed his pants just now!
That caught Brathos’ attention and he dropped his chase to take a gander, shifting in beside her to take a look and blocking off another ‘escape route’ the man could take. The two of them eye the man, then the new puddle on the ground, then the man again.
Via’s my Aunt….ya know Sev I think she’s right…you’ve gotta come see this guy. Think he might lose control of his bowels soon.
Sam yowled with laughter at the thought.
Ya know…I ALMOST feel sorry for this guy…maybe I can help dry him off a bit?
With a sly grin, she turned about and shot forward away from Brathos and their current interest, knocking the man over in the wake of her jets. A devious laugh and she brought herself back around, flying low and making a group of druggies eat the dirt and go scattering like frightened cattle.
Brathos? Think he’s dry enough?
I think he’s good and empty of whatever was left in him after that stunt Sammy.
Right-o, I’m off to find me new prey…I mean…new friends now. Yeah…new friends…
Hey! Come back here you! No runnin’ away, stupid swooper...don’t they know that if they run it just makes me wanna chase ‘em more?
She shot past Sev with a ‘thumbs up’ and took off after another pack of running civvies. Most of them scattered, but two of the idiots ran right into each other, knocking themselves out in the process and falling to the ground. This chase was promptly followed by her tearing off after a swoop racer who’d jumped into his friend’s speeder and taken off like a bat outta hell…ah Samantha, the excitable puppy let off its leash to go chase the squirrels (not that Archer was much better). It was like Life Day come early for the pilots as they ran amok amidst the illegal swoop racers and their crowd. Even stuffy Hunter seemed to be having a good time chasing people down. Brathos, however, seemed content to simply sit back and watch the fun, laughing as he eyed Archer’s nose give a friendly ‘nudge’ to the pair of swoop bikes he was tailing.
Seems like Archer’s gunnin’ some of our swoopers down over there.
He chuckled a bit as he sat back, letting his hawk hover on its own, only turning it enough so that he could continue to watch Archer’s sport as he dogged the heels of those (most likely terrified) swoop racers.
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Latus
May the Quartz be with you.
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Ain't got time for this. (?°?°??? ???
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last online Jun 27, 2014 19:37:36 GMT -5
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Nov 1, 2009 20:19:41 GMT -5
Post by Latus on Nov 1, 2009 20:19:41 GMT -5
The smile on Sev's face was massive. Every other moment he heard his squad's, his friend's antics with the helpless on the swoop track. To him little was better than being in the air and having some real fun, his cadre of pilots was testament to that. Like children they took what they were offered and ran for it. The Sergeant hadn't joined them past the first flyover but he saw most every action of his four man wing. His hawk was in hover, the decal of a gold coin and a small number "07" nearly covered by the legs of Sev's flight suit. Despite being at several hundred feet and nearly a mile away, Sergeant Sevchanko had done this several times before. Canopy open, he had unbuckled, climbed out of the pilot seat and was now sitting on the edge of the cockpit well on the small fighter, feet on the wings and digital binocs pressed firmly against his eyes. He could see everything going on below him, men and speeders, swoops and dust contrails. He even had to steady himself from falling as a few of his squads antics, even some from Hunter, made him double over in laughter. Taking a deep breath of clean cold air he lowered the binocs from his vision, taking in the width and breadth of the scenery below. The crystal forests were spectacular from altitude and with the sun it looked like a sea of diamonds. Peace.
Sev never had the intent on hovering around and spooking the swoopers himself; that was just an excuse to get his friends all in the air in one place where he could keep an eye on them. He just wanted to be in the air, be it in hover or in flight. That and he had a plan, one that called for the swoop track to be relatively clear of any riders that might get in the way. Scare off the swoopers and you dissuade them from returning any time soon. Scare off the racers and the track would be empty. He had heard other Seven pilots talk of this place at mess or during down time; it was a thrill and a half to fly the course in a 'hawk. The speed and timing required to execute the turns was challenging but the lack of large obstacles during the bulk portion of the race meant there was little threat of a collision if you were to screw one up. He would bring his ulterior motives up with his wing-mates after the track was clear. Who knows; maybe the others would be up for a race.
Slipping the binocs back to his eyes he looked down at Archer, doggedly zipping along mere meters behind a fleeing pair of swoops struggling to outpace the Firehawk.
Seems like Archer’s gunnin’ some of our swoopers down over there.
Yeah, ah see it. Dun hurt 'im, Archer. Jist scare him.
Roger that, boss.
Oh, an' tell report when th' track is clear; we don't hae tae linger...
This time it was Hunter that spoke up to the command, joy poorly masked under the simple phrase;
Roger Six-Lead.
Smiling at the little exchange between the group he tucked the binocs back into the cockpit and slipped into the leather backed seat himself, sliding the canopy backed to a closed position. Clunk. Gingerly Sev ran his hands down the banks of controls, levers, and switched until they both united on the control column. Ready when you are. Smiling Sev ratcheted the flight mode lever to R (repulsor assisted) and slid the throttle up; the engines roared to life again. In his head he knew what he would do; fly the track once and help scare off the last few swoopers... then they could really start flying. Dropping to less than a kilometer and lining his nose up with the starting straightaway Sev put the throttle to 100% and shot over his squad as they continued to scare the defenseless swoop jockeys.
Sev came into the first turn on full burn and banked hard. He could almost feel the air tearing against the lift surfaces and the metal straining to lift the craft into the first bank. Throttling back he leveled out, the nose of the 'hawk pointing perfectly down the course. The jockeys were probably gone, he'd seen enough. Pulling the nose up and left he arced the craft into a shallow banking climb. Looking through the canopy at this squad he opened his com channel.
Oi Sevens. Who's up fur a race?
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last online Jun 4, 2023 4:58:38 GMT -5
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Nov 17, 2009 18:56:01 GMT -5
Post by Talau the Ever-Lurking on Nov 17, 2009 18:56:01 GMT -5
(my god it sucks)
She’d broken off her chase of the swoop pilots and their ‘fans’ to fly lazily over the shimmering, make-shift, track. Sam had ignored the chatter, for the most part, as she allowed her hawk to hover above the crystal formations, gazing out at the various colors that caught fire in the light of the sun. Finally, Sev’s voice broke over the com system and she blinked as grey eyes looked over at the hawk that banked and circled back toward them.
No thanks Sev, I’m content for now.
Aww, c’mon Lorrdian…what are ya, chicken? I’ll race ya Sev.
Naw, I leave the hound races to the younger pups like you.
If her mask hadn’t been in the way, she might have stuck her tongue out at him. With a shrug of her shoulders, she settled back against the seat, toying with one of the straps of her safety harness.
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Latus
May the Quartz be with you.
850 posts
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Ain't got time for this. (?°?°??? ???
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last online Jun 27, 2014 19:37:36 GMT -5
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Dec 15, 2009 22:35:06 GMT -5
Post by Latus on Dec 15, 2009 22:35:06 GMT -5
He felt giddy with excitement, a rarity for someone usually as stoic and calm, but he had every right to be so. His plane was singing to him engines running smooth and clean and every control surface moved sharp with his hands. Was it the best idea? No, probably not. Was there risk? Of course there was risk, but every pilot in the air knew it; Sev's wing or not. A race on a swoop course in aircraft that could hit double what swoops did flat out, that sounded more like fun than a risk to the Sergeant. Not only that but there were no enclosed sections to the course so if control was lost they could just cut off the track. There was a challenge as well; they would have to push the Firehawks to their limits just to stay on the course. Returning his 'hawk to level he pulled the throttle back and the aircraft decelerated. A turn on the right lever and the tips of the wings folded down, repulsion emitters taking over for lift.
No thanks Sev, I’m content for now.
Aww, c’mon Lorrdian…what are ya, chicken? I’ll race ya Sev.
Naw, I leave the hound races to the younger pups like you.
Oh, but Brathos, its th' old dogs 'at will gie ye th' best run fur th' finish. Keep an eye oan archer while we're racin'.
Hey! I didn't say I wasn't going to race. He paused. Uh, I think I have a loose hydraulic in my right wing, nothign critical but I can't race. Sorry Sarge.
Sev chuckled into the comlink, as he lined his nose up with the tree line and the rough start banner. The tone of his voice was judas as Archer spoke; there was no hydraulic problem but Sev didn't begrudge him that. He was a fairly new pilot after all but, then again, so was Sam. Looking to his right he saw the yellow-green of Sam's 'hawk slide into formation, the decal of a bha'lir cat easily visible on the fuselage.
Aw reit 'en. if that's everyone I suppose we'll gie...
Sev paused as he felt a new vibration on the control column and he looked to his left. Hunter's hawk had slid into position less than a foot and a half from Sev's wing giving the Sergeant a great view of his decal, a universally used republic fighter-craft, the Venom. Smiling he gave his silent wingman a nod, which Hunter returned.
Well ain' tha' a sight. We got two comers, 'ere. Ok, rules fer this li'l race. Whoever makes it tae the finish wins. Short cuts no' allowed.
Gazing out of the canopy he looked around for a starting signal. Shifting his weight foreword he looked down onto the track where a remaining swoop jockey had just come to his senses some forty feet below, staring up at the trio of hovering Firehawks. As Sev watched the stunned humanoid reached into his jacket and withdrew a blaster lifting it into an aim.
When tha' blaster goes off; go.
Sliding his hand to the shifting mechanism in the cockpit Sev settled back into his seat. A single blaster pistol wouldn't deal enough damage to the 'hawk to scratch the pain, much less cripple it. Wait for it... An instant later a flash of red streaked through his line of sight just to the right of the nose and Sev acted. With a twist the tips of the wings folded flat again and Sev jammed the throttle up. Less than an instant later he was pressed back in his chair as the Firehawk shot foreword. A few moments later the starting gate was far behind and his hawk was tipped vertical in preparation of making the first turn.
See you all at the finish.
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last online Jun 4, 2023 4:58:38 GMT -5
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Jul 29, 2010 20:17:08 GMT -5
Post by Talau the Ever-Lurking on Jul 29, 2010 20:17:08 GMT -5
Shuffling her Hawk into position from where she’d been hovering, she eyed the outlined track as far as she could through the tall crystals. Of course, that wasn’t very far, considering the first turn was less than 2 miles out. The banter between Sev and Archer was amusing, but she’d come down to ‘business mode,’ giving only a slight, and preoccupied, half chuckle as she checked the gauges and readouts once again. Peripheral vision caught Sev looking in her direction as she slid up along side him and gazed out at the track with a critical eye once again, her right hand lightly holding the controls as she allowed the vibrations of the Hawk to give her the information she needed. Sure, she was fairly new to flying atmosphere based fighters, but she wasn’t new to flying. Those minute sensations filtering up the control stick told her about the state of her engines and the air circulation outside…to be precise: the engines were stable with normal vibrations, Sev’s Hawk was sending some turbulence into her on the left, and the wind was light, flowing from the west (their right).
“Aw reit ‘en. If that’s everyone I suppose we’ll gie…”
Grey eyes finally flickered over to Sev as he paused in his comment, the view of Hunter’s Hawk greatly obscured by Sev and his. There were signs, however, that he was there…like the extra wash from his repulsors as they blasted against the ground to keep him hovering, or the edges of another Hawk just barely visible past Sev’s, or the fact that Sev nodded in that direction while both Brathos and Archer were still off to the side. A touch of that impish grin shown in her eyes as she settled back into her seat once again, snickering at Sev’s next comment and his rules.
”Aww, but I like shortcuts! You sure I can’t just blast a straight away in this track, Sev?” She was, of course, joking…her voice said it all as she fought the urge to laugh before shrugging slightly. ”Meh, I’ll beat you there anyway…hey, should we make a wager on this? Whoever loses has to buy a round next day off or somethin’?”
”You offering to treat, Bomber?”
”Heck no, Lorrd! I was just thinkin’ it would be nice for Sev to treat us to a round for once.”
”Well if you aren’t offering…”
“When tha’ blaster goes off; go.”
Blinking around, then leaning forward a bit to see just what Sev was talking about, she giggled a bit at the idiot swooper she’d made faint earlier. He was up again, and pointing his blaster at them. Oh what an interesting sight that was! It only caused her to snicker harder, turning to mild laughter as Brathos spoke up. ”Looks like he’s out for revenge, pup. Best watch it or he’ll take you out with his water pistol.” Despite the amusement she found in the comment, Sam was ready to go….she wanted to go. Settling back in her seat again, her hand hovered over the VTOL controls, just itching to use them. She didn’t have to wait long as a streak of red shot between her and Sev, and in one fluid motion the tips of her wings folded up and the jets locked into place for forward motion.
One, swift, push forward on the throttle and the Hawk’s jets roared to life, pressing her back into her seat with an excited hoot and the sudden force of horizontal motion. Hot on Sev’s heels, she brought the belly of her hawk in tight near the rear of his fighter, both Hawks shifting to make the first turn. With her nose just behind Sev’s cockpit she couldn’t help but chuckle at the close formation as Hunter went wide and slid up under the both of them. ”Sev sandwich, anyone?” she thought, bringing another amused chuckle to life as the three came out of the first turn, sliding away from each other to jockey for position in the (relatively) short straight away.
Some said Corellians had rocket fuel for blood…Sam would have readily agreed.
This…was what she lived for.
A surreal mixture of calm and excitement, complimented by the shifting G-force and adrenaline, held the young woman enthralled, her mind clearing of anything but the now. For once it was her turn to be silent, grey eyes reflecting the shifting scenery from behind her clear (for the moment) helmet and HUD display. As the sun came blazing back into view, that visor shifted, tinting slightly with the new light to protect vision and minimize glare and strain on the eyes. Neck and neck with Sev, she pulled up just enough to allow her wing the space needed to sweep above his in hopes of taking the lead as the next turn came up. As she passed him, a slight turn and dip of her head mirrored the wink she gave him from behind that tinted HUD visor, and was followed by a short thumbs up. Goddess knew, it was good to have friends like these.
The slight jump and jitter in her controls had her looking up as Hunter stacked his Hawk over both of them before sliding up in front to a loud “oi! He allowed ta do that?! We allowed to do that?!” from the younger woman as she watched him tilt into the next turn. Flowing with him, she took the outside, skimming along the crystal formations and allowing her to keep most of her speed as well as control while she pushed to keep herself lined up and Sev in last.
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Latus
May the Quartz be with you.
850 posts
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Ain't got time for this. (?°?°??? ???
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last online Jun 27, 2014 19:37:36 GMT -5
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Aug 16, 2010 21:41:35 GMT -5
Post by Latus on Aug 16, 2010 21:41:35 GMT -5
The Sergeant chuckled over the com as Sam, the youngest of the group, suggested a wager; the losers buy the first round on their next leave day. He didn't need to confirm it, only acknowledge it as the group shot foreword to engage the track fully. The race was meant to test the racers and keep them polished but the wager added more; it added a true sense of competition. Sev could hardly say no to friendly competition. Besides, this way he could open up and fly with all his skill, they all could. As Sev came out of the first turn he eyed his HUD, the readouts telling him what he already knew from the subtle feedback, the kinetic language of his Firehawk.
Both stacked six. Sev smiled.
Focus...
Not intending to make it easy Sev fingered the throttle as the track straightened from the first turn. Now. Inhaling Sev jabbed the throttle to full and reveled in the push of acceleration as he dropped back in his seat. All of a sudden Sev felt the thrust falter and his Firehawk bucked as the engine coughed once. Pulling back on the throttle Sev jabbed the synchronizer as the electronic harmony of the turbojets reset and reignited. In that instant he saw a green blur to his right and just above him as Sam and Hunter overtook him in a wave of jet-wash. For a moment Sev's eye scanned the readouts before increasing the throttle again, slower this time.
Determined...
A brief instant later the trio broke around the second turn, Hunter out front Sev in the back, Even despite the momentary setback he found it hard to be angry or frustrated. There was something about flying that just seemed to calm him. That or it was a level of confidence that kept his level of concentration high. Each of them were competent pilots but Sev had a level of understanding of his craft that bordered on obsession; he knew just how to push the machine in which he rode, he knew how she spoke to him. With a flick of his wrist he dialed the inertial compensators down from 97, the normal level for piloting, to 95. As they streaked from the steeply banked turn Sev's mind registered Sam's comment but he found himself unable to respond, he was concentrating far too hard.
75.
The third turn was much sharper than the previous two and came up much faster. He could feel the Hawk almost wanting to decelerate as Sev closed the distance between his comrades and throttled down to three-quarters thrust. His main hand on the stick Sev pushed it away from him and dropped his altitude. He could feel the wash of the other Hawks on the lifting surfaces again as his aircraft "hit the deck." Glancing up he saw the other two begin their bank but as the turn loomed he didn't begin one of his own. Still with the throttle pushed up he grasped the shift lever and pulled it to the boundary of the VTOL shift and pumped the yaw controls to turn the tail.The wings didn't shift flat, he knew, but the repulsors fired and the forewrod thrust was redirected, pushed out and away.
Sev didn't so much turn the corner as float around it the G-forces from the dialed down compensators forcing him to steady himself against the port side panel. As they worked their way out of the tight corner Sev flicked his finger again and the primary thrusters kicked in again, blue flames leaping forth from the engines as the stick is pulled back, bringing him up on front of his friends. Involuntarily a smile spread across his face and Sev tapped the stick, cocking the wings in a sort of salute.
Heads up.
Look sharp lad 'n lass!
The sergeant's eyes widened as the crystal trees parted and several magnificent cliffs loomed up from the track as they shot over the longer straightaway. With a quick and critical eye Sev identified three possible routes; tom, bottom, middle. The top went over while the bottom and middle weaved in and out, around the cliffs. Immediately Sev pushed the stick foreword and tilted it, tipping his craft vertical to slide into the thinner spaces of the mid route. His breath caught as he pulled the wings up, down, level, vertical dodging pylon and rocks only meters from the green tips of the craft's stationary appendages.
Watch yerselves!
The last glimpse of his comrades only showed Hunter tipping his nose down and diving headlong into the bottom route... the one that Sev thought looked the most difficult.
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last online Jun 4, 2023 4:58:38 GMT -5
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Sept 1, 2010 3:15:25 GMT -5
Post by Talau the Ever-Lurking on Sept 1, 2010 3:15:25 GMT -5
As Sev pulled away beneath them Sam couldn’t help gawk, part amused, part frustrated, and completely impressed. A quiet ”well I’ll be a Hutt’s aunt,” escaping her as she blinked wide grey eyes before ruffling up at his cocky little salute. ”Oi, what?!” she griped, half laughing at his antics as his voice cut across her com. Well this put her into an awkward position. Falling behind as Hunter pressed in on Sev’s tail and blocked her out, she popped her ‘hawk above the other two to eye the canyons ahead. The middle and bottom routes seemed pretty narrow and chances of overtaking someone there seemed fairly slim, but she wasn’t in it to go the easy route either…
Grumbling under her breath for a moment to herself, she eyed her readouts as the decision bore down on her. With a nearly inaudible ”to hell with it...” she dove down, hot on Hunter’s tail. Grey eyes danced about as she was forced to watch her distance from Hunter as well as the distance to the edges of the narrow cliffs and caves they wound their ways through. Wound up tight as a spring, her mind clicked back to running asteroid fields with her dad. True, the terrain wasn’t moving but it was just about as bad as the two ‘hawks dipped down again and their pilots were forced to turn on the forward lights as they plummeted into the caves below the middle route. Pillars of stone and the jagged roof and floor of the caves had both on their toes as they were forced to cross each other’s paths in the wide, but equally dangerous, caverns. With a hiss of tension, Sam squeezed her fighter through a gap in the columns as Hunter was forced to bank the same direction to avoid his own obstacles.
As the cave cut off her view of Hunter more solidly, she followed the new path with a racing heart and short breaths as the twisting route brought her up, then steeply down. ”Hells…” she half groaned as she pressed the ‘hawk’s nose down, forcing her to press back into the seat as the black tunnel swallowed her, ‘hawk and all. Here and there colored light would filter through the caves, illuminating the glittering outcroppings that she had less than no time to enjoy as she tipped from side to side, allowing the wings to whisper above, beneath and through stalactites and stalagmites as they grew together. Somewhere, vague and in the quiet, only barely filtering through her narrowed attention, she could hear Hunter mutter or hiss to himself as well and some part of her, again somewhere in the background of her mind, felt relieved that she wasn’t the only one having a difficult time of this route.
That small relief was swiftly washed away as she saw the narrowed space between two columns swiftly approaching her. As she was forced to tilt her ‘hawk diagonally, barely keeping from scraping the edges of the wings, some of the tension worked its way out in a strained noise that worked its way out from her tightened abs and throat. No sooner was she able to flatten out again than she let out a heavy sigh of minor relief and tensed again as the tunnel curved sharply upward once more, gravity slamming her back into her seat as light glimmered somewhere before her. Swiftly approaching the light, she found more and more of the stuff glimmering through gaps in the stone or through crystals that covered what had once been walls, giving the new space stained glass lighting. With a few sharp dings, her eyes flickered to her proximity alert just moments before Hunter burst through a space to her left.
With dismayed sounds on both ends, Sam jammed the throttle forward to avoid colliding with him and tilted slightly to stack their closest wings and hopefully keep from damaging each other. Passing through the translucent and technicolor tunnel of crystals, she barely managed to slip ahead of him without going fast enough that obstacles turned into blurs. As the next division came up, Sam was more than a little thankful to get out of the over crowded feeling tunnel and shot into the new path, battering Hunter’s ‘hawk with her jet’s backwash. The steadily rising tunnel turned black with surrounding stone before suddenly opening into the sky and canyon of the middle track. Surprised, she took the chance and ran with it, barely having time to care about where Sev might be as her craft swung into another sharp turn. Once again that proximity alert pinged loudly at her and the green blur of Sev’s ‘hawk passed right before her as she came up sharp behind him.
Well, at least she knew where he was now…
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Latus
May the Quartz be with you.
850 posts
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Ain't got time for this. (?°?°??? ???
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last online Jun 27, 2014 19:37:36 GMT -5
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Jul 27, 2011 20:17:26 GMT -5
Post by Latus on Jul 27, 2011 20:17:26 GMT -5
With his wingmen out of sight at a glance behind him the sergeant returned his attention to the fore; his aircraft slipping easily through the vertical slat in the Agrilat's “trees.”Right hand tight around the control stick left on the throttle Sev's Firehawk shot out of the vertical passage with less than a meter to spare. His reactions were timed perfectly, flawlessly rotating the fighter back to level, continuing to tilt into a spin as he pulled the control rod back and ascended through a small opening through the crystal growths. His pulse raced, heart in his throat as he reacted to the oncoming obstacles within a split second of noticing them, lips curling into a smile without consciously realizing it. As the roaring craft arched up and over the outcropping he tilted back to level, easing the throttle foreword bef-
Aah!
His body and mind reacted as one, right hand leaping from the stick to the hover controls, left cranking the throttle back hard. The Firehawk shuddered as the wingtips folded upward, the velocity dropping sharply as the pilot was gently thrust foreword through the inertial dampers. The rush of downward repulsors accompanied the sudden increased rush of sound from the aircraft brought Sev's mind back from the intense focus as the crystal trees surrounding him shook and shivered, and just in time it seemed. Quickly looking up and over the console he could see the pale green reflection of the fighter's nose off the crystal maybe a meter from the cone and foreward laser cannons. Sighing he stamped on the descend pedal on the floor and the fighter dropped, well below the massive piece of crystal that had nearly been his stop. Grunting he shifted his hand back to the transition lever and thrust it back to full thrust, simultaneously jamming the throttle wide open. He had lost speed, and therefore time. He wouldn't let Sam, or Hunter for that matter, beat him just because he didn't respond fast enough. A smile crossed his face as the Firehawk shot ahead once more, tiny fragments of the surrounding crystal trees flying off in his wake in a shower of brilliantly glittering dots.
Ah'm comin,' dinnae wait fer us.
Together.
The focus was not lost for long as pilot and craft blended once more becoming a single inseparable entity. Despite the little changing confines of the Agrilat canopy it seemed that there was a single passage through with several false branches that would have taken any flyer off their intended track. Utilizing the rise and fall, up and down path of the surrounding crystal it was possible to keep an eye on the track itself and, therefore, stay on coarse. Dodging cliffs, rolling through small tight enclosures, simply keeping from causing a critical impact took every ounce of concentration so when a rumbling ran through the wings of the Firehawk the pilot took a moment to take notice.
But take notice he did.
A breath, he looked back at his seven o' clock as he rolled, spotted the juking and spinning of a similarly green fighter which follow a much smaller opening. Eyes foreword again he sank into the focus again as the track opened up again, passing out of the low hanging canopy and craggy peaks, returning to spotty crystal trees and solo large rocks along the primary track. A quick visual scan saw a pair of shadowed forms far away to the south, the outlines instantly familiar; two idle Firehawks. Determined again to continue the race to its conclusion he returned his gaze to the track to be met, surprisingly with the tail and thrusters of...
Frell, Hunter!
He knew that the stoic pilot had no control as to where the Sergeant was looking at the moment but he had slipped into place and was steadily pulling away. The Echani pilot had fell into single-file line with Sam's 'hawk and utilized the drafting theory of racing to accelerate in the turbid wake of the vehicle before him to slip by without much difficulty. The Sergeant laughed as he banked for the turn, Hunter's jet wash buffeting his wings. As the pair leveled out the finish line came into view and Sev, not one to just give up, hammered the throttle wide open. He could give Hunter as good a run as h-
M...day! Ma...y! Th-.. -s C-...mand to all f-...ers! R...B, RT... -nder ...-ck! Re-...
There was no mistaking the voice that burst across his coms as they roared toward the finish. Though his focus held through the first static filled garble his mind caught on the trio of broken letters that were now ringing loudly in his mind as the message repeated.
Sarge! I got command coming in all beaded up! My fun meter is pegged, sounds like an RTB, do you copy?! All kinds of music...
Aye.
Though he only hesitated for a fraction of an instant, glancing back to the finish before mentally running the message again, he grunted pulling the stick up and away before jamming throttle wide open once more and shooting into the sky. Glancing down he saw Hunter doing the same thing. Either the Echani noticed Sev's departure or decrypted the message the same as Archer.
Snuggle up! Full blowers, we're RTB.
As they broke from their previous engagement, Hunter forming with the others hopefully following suit his heart dropped as the com transmission started coming in clearer and clearer as they climbed up and into the sky, each Firehawk roaring at full power.
Mayday mayday, this is Cuckoo's Nest calling all Faraway chicks! We are under attack, repeat under attack. Primary com-disc inoperable, secondary damaged. Two dozen Tango's on attack vector from the south-southwest across point Charlie-one-seven. Repeat. All fighters this is an immediate RTB. Weapons armed, fire at will.
Command, thus es Six-lead. Sixth-flight es buster en route, comin' en hot. ETA five tocks.
There was a distinct pause as the radio continued to cough and spout static.
Roger Sixth-flight. You are the only responders. Get here ready to dance, out.
Switching off his broadcast com he eased himself into “fighting position,” well and comfortable in his seat but with muscles tensed to be ready to act at a moment's notice he took a deep breath preparing himself mentally for what was sure to be one hell of a fight.
Eight-eight heaters armed, loaded.
Roger, ditto.
When th' 'hawks're away th' Tango's will play. Thus day jus' go' ae lo' more interestin'.
((Translations: Beaded up: Worried or excited.
My Fun Meter is Pegged: "I am not enjoying this."
RTB: Return to base.
Music: Electronic interference.
Blowers: Afterburners.
Snuggle up: Form on my wing.
Tocks: Minutes.
Heaters: Heat seaking missiles.
Hope I didn't forget anything.))
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last online Jun 4, 2023 4:58:38 GMT -5
Master
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Jul 28, 2011 20:13:12 GMT -5
Post by Talau the Ever-Lurking on Jul 28, 2011 20:13:12 GMT -5
Modified. Am much happier with it now, though she -certainly- isn't reacting how I expected. O.o
Side note: symmetry, anyone? *smirk*
The track was thinning out again, just barely, as she and Sev rolled and dove through the still treacherous track. Bits and shards of crystal battered against her canopy, shrapnel from Sev’s jet-wash against the Agrilat’s crystals, had her focus slipping for a moment before something…someone…swept over her with a battering of air as the track opened up more fully once more. A slight grunt was given as she fought Hunter and Sev’s wash at once as the echani pulled forward and took position in first. He was riding our coat tails! Dammit…well I am NOT taking third! With the final turn coming up, she urged her ‘hawk to inch up above Sev’s left wing as the two of them banked behind Hunter.
With the final straightaway in sight, she knew Sev wasn’t about to let himself settle for second. There was just something about the man that didn’t allow him to give up. She’d seen it before, and she knew it wasn’t going to change here. Almost as one, both ‘hawks opened up full, blasting each other with superheated air, kicking up dirt and shattering a few of the crystals around them in the process. She couldn’t help but grin wildly as she and Sev struggled for position once again…
M...day! Ma...y! Th-.. -s C-...mand to all f-...ers! R...B, RT... -nder ...-ck! Re-...
If anyone there didn’t recognize that voice, it would have been astounding. It was enough to break Sam’s focus on the race and try to piece together the meaning of the static filled and garbled message. Brow furrowed a bit, her eyes darted from the finish line to the two ‘hawks nearest her. Her mind didn’t have much trouble putting two and two together even through the broken message as she throttled back and started to pull up to keep from dinging her and Sev’s wings together just as Archer’s voice broke the comms. No sooner was he done speaking than Sam had peeled up and away, heading back to more open air.
“Snuggle up! Full blower, we’re RTB”
Slipping in behind Sev’s wing as he passed her from below, she gave a short ”Sir” as Hunter slid in behind the other wing and all three ‘hawks opened to military power. A soft jitter of her controls had her glancing to see Archer and Brathos forming up as the next wave of transmission burned into her ears. No sooner had the words ‘under attack’ reached her than her free hand was powering all weapons systems. No one else may have known it, but there was a bristling sort of silence from Sam as they shot over the landscape back home. No one attacked her home…it tended to make her very unhappy…and very protective.
”Command, thus es Six-lead. Sixth flight es buster en rout, comin’ en hot. ETA five tocks.”
The pause that followed only built up the fire that was swiftly turning into brimstone in her gut.
”Roger Sixth flight. You are the only responders. Get here ready to dance, out.”
“Eight-eight heaters armed, loaded.” “Roger, ditto.” ”Weapons active and ready”
Sam remained silent, if only to keep from growling.
“When th’ ‘hawks’re away th’ Tango’s will play. Thus day jus’ go’ ae lo’ more interestin’.”
Finally, after a moment of quiet between them, Sam spoke up…more to herself than any of the others, but the question had been begging to be asked. ”Who the hells attacks an installation like that? And why the hells are we the only ones who’ve responded? Ohna fulle guth.” With a huffed growl, she fell quiet once more. As the world seemed to crawl along below them Sam couldn’t shake the mixture of anger and trepidation that was building in her. She may have been the newest to the flight, but she’d flown in more than one mission…still, something felt wrong. Archer was muttering to himself as the signals from the base repeated over their com signal with little to no reply. It was the longest five minutes she’d experienced in a long time. By the end of those five minutes the five fighters were within visual range of the chaos being wrought on the base out before them.
“Looks like a big Charlie-foxtrot to me.”
”Roger that, Archer…this could turn into a furball, fast. Best take care.”
”Yeah well, I’m fangs out…give us the green Six-lead. These bandits are askin’ for it.”
Stormy eyes surveyed the mix of multi-role fighters and strike airspeeders doing their best to lay waste to the base below them in the (otherwise calm) morning sun. With the more easily maneuverable speeders they’d have to be careful not to get too tangled in a proverbial knife fight in a com booth or do more damage to the base itself. Even as they were given the go by Sev to engage, Sam had to wonder…who had the balls to attack a base…’hawks present or not? It just didn’t make any logical sense. Even most terrorists weren’t dedicated or well manned enough to attack a military base! Glancing around, she almost felt at a loss as to where to even begin to tag an opening target. Seeing the base attacked like this had her shaken. Angry and shaken and struggling to hone down on what was important.
Flashes of green swept off to the sides as the formation peeled apart to engage the enemies as each pilot started their hunt. In an instant her situational awareness kicked into overdrive as flashes of AA turret fire erupted here and there along the base, streaks of return fire from the attackers aiming to destroy the defenses as the speeders unloaded people onto the edges of the base itself then moved to join the rest of the attack. Something had to be done to stop foot soldiers (or whoever they were) from overrunning the remaining ground personnel, so that’s where she started. Sweeping in low, she throttled back and lined up with a speeder that had just settled down and was unloading several people. With forward canons trained, there was half an instant where her eyes locked on a painted symbol on the side of the speeder and her breath caught, her finger depressing the triggr on reaction and instinct even as she spoke. ”Frelling hells! Oh this is not good. Very not good…”
Managing to keep herself together long enough to ensure the speeder she’d set on had been destroyed, Sam pulled away trying to convince herself she saw something different than what she knew she’d seen. While she didn’t pretend to know every pirate group in the galaxy, she’d made it a point to learn the ones that haunted Corellian space (if only so she knew who to avoid)…and this was a particularly memorable play on the old ‘Jolly Roger’ symbol. Being hyper paranoid (phobic, if she was honest with herself) about pirates drove her to learning things like that. With knowledge came power…like the power of avoidance, or the power to recognize who was attacking you. Banking back for a second pass at the base, she found herself hesitating under the fear and memories of her pirate-riddled past. No…no, I can’t hesitate…I have to fight. I can’t run…hells I wish I could run. Managing to breathe past her desire to shake, grey eyes widened as one of the fighters peeled away from his attack on the base and made a head on pass of her and banked to follow up on her tail.
One moment of concentration loss and this was what it got her.
Hitting the airbrakes, she pulled hard on the control shaft, the nose angling up sharply as the ‘hawk lost speed. Pressed back hard into her seat, she jammed the throttle open again and hurtled upward, the fighter attempting to follow clumsily. The lights and readings across her HUD flashed at her as the bearing of the jet shifted and changed sharply, the stick jumping and fighting against her as the Gs pressed in on pilot and ‘hawk from the tight loop she’d pushed into. The craft creaked and shuttered eerily under the stress as the ground and sky switched positions then settled back into their proper places again, Sam found herself staring at the tail of the fighter. ”You’re not getting me. Not this time…”
In record time her hands had switched the AAS missiles from swarm to single targeting as her instincts and training took over. Determined eyes honed in on the fighter as he attempted to get to a height that would make the ‘hawk stall before she could lock onto him. She could feel the strain of the climb on the fighter and on her own body as she stubbornly followed, growling as if the action might help ‘hawk and pilot struggle through it easier. He wasn’t getting away. The moment the loud ping of her targeting system went off it had caused an almost knee-jerk reaction, thumb depressing the missile release to a half grunted ”Fox-one.” Streaking off to the side and back toward the ground, the bright flash and minor jerking of her control gave her a satisfied feeling of accomplishment and control as she panted once or twice in a subconscious effort to release some of the physical stress. ”Enjoy all nine hells…I’ll send some of your friends in a few minutes.”
Harsh talk for Sam, but she was trying to convince herself that she wasn’t scared stiff of these people…of pirates. Still, for once, Sam felt like she stood a fighting chance against these ruffians who terrorized her dreams…if only because she was in a ‘hawk. All at once a mixture of vengeance and fear coursed through her, fueling the release of adrenaline, as her fighter stooped down on Brathos…and more importantly, the fighter tailing him as he attempted to get a lock on the one before him.
Now.
”Fox one.”
*Ping*
The targeting system was a second too late as the missile released, slamming into the broad ‘back’ of the pirate following her friend. As the twisted and mangled fighter fell from the sky, Sam careened after it, pulling up meters from the ground and blasting up a couple of contrails along the ground until she swept along the long tarmac. People of both sides scattered and ran for cover, but she wasn’t interested in them…she’d honed in on another of the strike speeders that was blasting away at a group of pinned down soldiers. Bearing down on the speeder, burst after burst of gatling fire lit the area below the nose cone before punching holes into the speeder’s side and the area around it until it fell heavily to the ground, spitting fire from the engine area.
”Bravo zulu, Bomber chick! And thanks for the help!”
”Yeah, thank me with a drink when this is over, Lorrd…I’ll need it.”
Military Power ~ Maximum jet engine power without engaging afterburner.
Ohna fulle guth ~ a challenge or insult (for her, a bit of both)
Charlie Foxtrot ~ Phonetics for "cluster-f*ck"
Furball ~ A confused aerial engagement with many combatants. Several aircraft in tight ACM.
Fangs Out ~ When a pilot is really hot for a dogfight
Bandit ~ Dogfight adversary positively identified as a bad guy. Hostile aircraft.
Knife Fight in a Phone (com) Booth ~ Close-in, slow-speed aerial dogfight with a nimble adversary. Often just called a "knife-fight".
SA ~ Situational Awareness. An all-encompassing term for keeping track of what's happening when flying. SA involves knowing what your airplane is doing relative to its envelope, where your adversary is and what he's up to, where the ground is, the status of enemy threats on the ground, and hundreds of other variables. Loss of situational awareness is often cited as a contributing factor to many military-aviation mishaps.
AAS missiles ~ pulled from the Firehawk app
Bravo zulu ~ praise for a good job
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Latus
May the Quartz be with you.
850 posts
0 likes
Ain't got time for this. (?°?°??? ???
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last online Jun 27, 2014 19:37:36 GMT -5
Guardian
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Aug 27, 2011 19:20:01 GMT -5
Post by Latus on Aug 27, 2011 19:20:01 GMT -5
The Sergeants' eyes were locked foreword, knuckles white on the control stick and throttle, as the voices of the four at his back played slowly across the coms. The rumbling of the Firehawk below him pitched higher as pulled it back to mere military power, rocketing along at hundreds of kilometers per hour. Within his mind the truth of the current situation stewed in his mind as thoughts of anger, vengeance, confidence, and concern caught in his muscles and sang through his blood. Not once since he had been reassigned to Corellia, not once in his career as a Firehawk pilot had anyone had the gall to so blatantly attack his home and his friends and family. His mind drew back into sync with his craft as his eyes turned a deep red, flashes of red playing over them as he and the five behind him leveled off over the rolling hills, plunging onward back toward their home; the Cuckoo's Nest.
Even as the painfully long seconds tick by Sev's eyes remain glued to the view from his front panel not even bothering to look at his fuel, his engine temps, fuel cells; no need. The track had broken in the Firehawks nicely for this and Sev knew that, were it possible, the aircraft would be chomping at their bits to be let loose, to do what they did best. He heard Sam's voice over the coms and blinked only once, eyes looking for flashes and stray lasers from the battle ahead.
“Who the hells attacks an installation like that? And why the hells are we the only ones who’ve responded? “
Dunno... and its the music I'm picking up probably, Bomber. I bet the other flights went farther than we did and even minor interference would make them deaf.
Cut th' chatt'r. As soon as we cross Ridge A you are weapons free, choose yer targets an' fire a' will.
Ridge A, the name that command gave the first ridge that ran around the base in a semi-circular line, was part of what made the Nest that much safer than other CPG bases. Not only that but through Xavier's insistence the base was covered by a trio of high powered AA batteries run through either droid brain or human remote control. What concerned Sev was how Xavier had called for help; “Com discs out and tangos still incoming.” That must have meant there was either an invasion of Camp-based security or they had used long ranged missiles. Growling to himself he knew it no longer mattered as he saw a flash from directly ahead, smoke rising from several ridge lines ahead.
Dive.
And dive he did, bringing the five Firehawks down to just above treetop level as they screamed ahead, weapon racks and nose batteries glinting in the early afternoon sun. Not knowing if whoever it was had hacked their channels he said nothing, simply guided his fighter over the topography as his secondary hand left the throttle and moved to arm his kit, the gear mounted standard on all of the fighters in the wing. He knew that there was only a limited number of shots with his swarm missiles so each had to count. As Ridge A loomed Sev's pulse spiked, the air outside almost shuddering with the sounds and concussion of explosions. Tugging the stick back gently the Firehawks roared over and into the breach, the camp sprawling out before them. The Sergeant felt more than saw his wing mates split away, turning their attention to one tango or another.
No mercy.
Much like Sam and likely all of the other pilots under his command his combat awareness spiked as his eyes roamed the compound from one burning building to a slow moving attack speeder to the CIC which was, surprisingly, still mostly intact. In the instant that Sev was thinking of how much he hoped that the Captain was still kicking a Multirole fighter flashed by his nosecone, missing the collision by about three meters. By conditioning the Sergeant pulled hard on the control stick and was soon in hot pursuit. As the red lock indicators inside the cockpit swam, the enemy dodging and rolling, he realized the tango was a robust model but fairly outdated model that had a history with mecenaries. Reacting at an instant he cringed as the whine of a lock met his ears then blipped once for a secondary lock for another AAS “eight-eight” missile and squeezed the trigger. Fox one, fox one. The 'hawk shuddered as the two small missiles released, tumbling and whirling ahead of their origin contrailed by twin white lines of exhaust. The Sergeant did not waste any time as he brought his finger down to the second trigger, squeezing it as his tango rolled and yawed, pitching down to point the both of them at the ground. As the two fighters shrieked down one of the eights were shaken, the other plowing into the rear left engine only a moment before a series of blazing hot laser fire shredded the fighter's tail. Tugging on the control stick Sev pulled up quickly as he felt the concussion of the enemy multirole hitting the ground.
Quickly his eyes were again foreword looking for his next target as his green fighter shrieked in low over several runners whom he could not identify quick enough; no matter, his targets were here in the sky. A single tango was as low as he as his eyes quickly saw, low enough to deposit troops onto the battlefield. Both eyes twitched as he pulled the trigger and the shift lever at the same time. Both gattling-style lasers howled as the tips of the Firehawk's wings folded flat, the fighter decelerating violently and pressing Sev foreword in his seat against the safety harness. Several seconds of red laser fire followed the attack speeder as the newly revealed interior became a firey, carbon filled mess. Sweeping it toward the rear of the speeder he only had to hold the trigger for a fraction of a second longer before a small explosion and a shudder heralded its descent to a very rough landing. Twisting the shifter again he pressed the throttle up and soon he was back up and over the compound, hunting for a new target. Red lock indicators swam and vanished, hesitated then exploded as he saw Hunter's 'hawk put an AAS into the engine nacelle of an enemy multirole. A grim smile spread across Sev's face as another 'hawk passed his nose, this one looked to be Sam's and...
Stay on e-
Airman Zaftig, what're yeh doin'?
Something was wrong. The flawless banking and firing, attacking the enemy with the ferocity of a protective mother nexu, was just not there. Sam's 'hawk was committing a major tactical error... not taking evasive maneuvers when a tango was on her tail. Grunting Sev hammered the yaw controls, sliding the back end of his 'hawk around until only his nose pointed at the tango before pulling the trigger. The red bolts flew nearly true but missed their target and forcing the tango to split off his pursuit.
Wake up Zaftig! Captain's orders, no' ae scratch!
Shouting over his com was something he rarely did but he didn't want to lose a one of his 'hawks today or Sam for that matter. Breathing in sharply he accelerated past Sam as her 'hawk rolled away back into the fight. Sev's target was the particular multirole that had made a pass on his wing mate and he soon picked the particular one out from the dodging, juking, and dieing tangos spread around the airspace with them; there looked to be a level of confusion about them. His target's tail was a bright yellow so it was easy to spot and, as Sev's 'hawk returned to a screaming dive he rolled left to correct his approach as his HUD spiked the target red. Then again, he held the reticle on his target. Once more. Grinning with death in his eyes he squeezed the trigger and his 'hawk shuddered once more as he leveled out on the deck, the multirole rolling away as it shifted to a climb. Fox one, fox one, fox one. This time, however, the fighter made the mistake of revealing its larger underbelly, the engines primary venting system as well. The missiles impacted once after another, the first dropping the shields, the other two impacting one by one on the fragile venting system obliterating the enemy in a shower of shrapnel. Pulling the stick back Sev returned to his climb and banked to survey the situation, eyes constantly glancing back to prevent himself from being followed.
All over the compound it looked as though the other 'hawks were fighting just as efficiently, the air full of the white eight-eight contrails, the ground littered with the burning hulks of enemy craft. Even on the ground, with a moment to look, it seemed as though Xavier had mobilized the ground staff to take up arms against the small contingent of men who had made it to ground. A quick glance at his radar showed something that he was not prepared for but almost expected; the remaining craft were breaking off the engagement and scattering. He saw Archer shoot off after a pair of attack speeders and Brathos down his current target but it seemed that their assailants were not willing to continue this to its bloody conclusion.
All wings report status.
Wings empty, scratch six.
I'm a little busy Sarge! A moment later a slight explosion could be heard over the coms. Targets routed, looking for survivors.
As he waited for the other two he winged over his craft before pointing his nose at the ground toward the densest concentration of allied troops. After only a few moments he pulled the shifter and the 'hawk automatically righted itself, wings folding flat and the repulsors kicking in only twenty feet off the ground. Grinning his nose-cam clicked on, showing him what his semi-rotating nose canons saw... a multitude of pinned down attackers. The sergeant chuckled as it seemed that they no longer had the will to fight, any interrupting static long gone from their com systems.
Good job lads, lass. Ah think th' music's finally up fer these bastards.
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last online Jun 4, 2023 4:58:38 GMT -5
Master
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Aug 29, 2011 17:51:46 GMT -5
Post by Talau the Ever-Lurking on Aug 29, 2011 17:51:46 GMT -5
“Airman Zaftig, what’re yeh doin’?”
Echuta! What?!
She’d boresighted for half a moment after her run of the tarmac, finding a new target tailing Archer, and gotten this tiger on her tail. Sure she’d tried to shake him at first, breaking off engagement of her target to not add extra heat on her wingman and trying to get an angle on her pursuer instead, but no matter what she’d done he’d kept hot on her. Not only had it shaken her up, it had downright terrified her. By the time she shot past Sev she was looking for a new trick to try but…she was running low on ideas. Truthfully, she’d not even thought to call for help from the sergeant or anyone else.
Tactical error was right…
She glanced through the back of the cockpit dome and barely caught her would be attacker breaking off. Another swift glance caught sight of Sev’s ‘hawk and she worked hard to shake off the rest of the fear that had piled on.
“Wake up Zaftig! Captain’s orders, no’ ae scratch!”
The shouting wasn’t helping.
”I’m awake, Six-lead, I’m awake! ………unfortunately.” The two craft rolled away from each other and she sighed heavily, muttering to herself, ”Delta Sierra, Zaftig…pull it together.” She wasn’t happy about nearly ending up fangs sunk in floorboard. Grey eyes flickered around the base watching the teams that had mobilized. They seemed to have things under control down there (for the most part) so she turned her eyes back to the sky. A flash of silver, followed closely by a flash of green slipped through her vision as Hunter bore down on one of the enemy craft. A hoot over the comm. heralded Archer’s victory over an enemy. Who knew where Brathos was, the man seemed to be everywhere. She honed in on a good clump of tangos on the move from one of the attack speeders toward the base, nose cannons lighting up the ground and causing them to scatter…the ones that lived becoming easy pickings for the base personnel.
Then one of the AA turrets was downed, the short tower it was on collapsing into rubble.
”Oh that just won’t do.”
With that she shot off after the offending fighter…fighters? As her ‘hawk swooped in after the one she had seen, another multirole slid up beside it from an angle she hadn’t had a clear view of previously. These two would be difficult to lose among the confusion anyway. The red and yellow decal of a sun on one and a decal of a naked woman on the other were both easily visible. How fitting.
Setting her jaw, she checked the number of AAS she had left. Two left…best make ‘em count. With a glance at her tail to be sure it was clear, she swept around behind the two at a distance and below easy visual from the cockpit. C’mon baby…c’mon… If it were possible for a jet craft to creep up on anything, this likely would have been one of the few ways it was plausible.
They started to bank, she gave them distance then banked with them. As they swept around for a run on another of the turrets, she eyed the targeting system on her HUD as it worked to get a lock. No time… The fighters maneuvered into position for the run (no doubt working on their own locks), she hit the afterburner, working the yaw controls to bring her up to a zero angle. Almost immediately her targeting system shrieked at her as the slower of the two fighters ringed red. Her thumb depressed and the craft shuddered around her. No time. Shoot from the hip. Her hawk tipped, sliding to the left just barely before her thumb depressed again, the craft shuddering a second time. ”Fox one. Fox one.”
The target-locked fighter peeled away, trailing the locked eight-eight with him. The second fighter attempted to peel away from the unlocked missile only to find himself forced to stay the straight course as Sam’s nose cannons harried him. It didn’t take long for the AAS to slam into the fighter as it rolled to avoid a blaze of red bolts. With its shield already down from its previous encounter with the defense turrets, it hardly stood a chance. The other fighter, though…she glanced around as she rolled away from the falling debris.
A flash of metal swept above her by a scant few feet as she leveled out again. ”Holy sh--! Bhesj! I am really getting tired of bumping heads with you guys!” With a hand on the air break and a deft touch, she swung the tail of her hawk around to keep her tail clear of whoever had just made a pass on her. Sure enough, the decal of naked lady numero uno was there and she was not happy about seeing it again. As the two made another pass at each other, two sets of blasters opened fire hoping to either down their opponent or make them blink in this game of chicken. In the end both broke off, slipping past each other…barely. Swinging around the fighter seemed more interested in getting away than continuing contact.
”Hey Judy!”
“All wings report status.”
“Wings empty, scratch six.”
“I’m a little busy Sarge!”
“I’m out also….and…”
”Targets routed, looking for survivors.”
”…hah…with that speeder I’m one up on Hunt—er. Bomber’s still got one…”
She did too. As the others reported in, she stuck to the tail of her target, nose cannons blasting out short bursts of fire. Still, this guy was some kind of pilot. ”Stuck in a knife fight, boys. Wings are empty…” The fighter rolled to the side and she rolled with him…he slid to avoid her cannons, she slid with him…but it just wasn’t working. Finally she seemed to peel away and expose her tail. The pirate fell for it, following behind as she made that wide loop tight. With a glance at her fuel levels she hit the afterburner and piled on the Gs and the angles. As the broad back of the multirole came into view, the blond wasted no time in peppering it with blaster fire. As it billowed smoke and lost control she finally broke off her attack, heading back toward the base.
”Back.”
She couldn’t even come up with anything witty.
As the flight headed for the ground she didn’t bother for anything flashy, throttling back to a speed just high enough to keep lift as she followed the others. Following suit, her craft settled into a hover just beside Brathos’ as her eyes scanned the area. With a gentle bump the landing gears touched down and she watched as a group of personnel hustled past her field of view toward a pack of pinned down…”Osik…”
“Good job lads, lass. Ah think th’ music’s finally up fer these bastards.”
Already the other canopies were opening as the ‘hawk’s wound down to taxi back into the hangar. Archer was up and stretching before settling back into the cockpit to complete post-flight, Brathos was focused on his for several more moments before settling back in his seat and lacing his hands behind his head as he waited for further instruction, but Sam…she glanced anxiously at Sev’s ‘hawk, hoping against hope that he was about to tell them all to get back in the air and head to some new destination.
Of course…with fuel levels the way they were after that dogfight, she knew better.
With a heavy sigh she started the power down and post-flight checks…and unclipped her flight harness…and loosened her boot knife…and checked (futilely) for her SM-82. With orders coming across the comm. to return to the hangar and the report of other flight leaders (as well as the sounds of late Firehawks arriving overhead) reaching her ears, she taxied over to hangar six with the rest of the flight. The chatter of the others of her flight was hardly registered as she watched the ground crew hustle about to find missing or replacement gear.
Another, furtive, sweep of her eyes and she hit the canopy release. The others were already climbing out of their fighters but she…was not anxious to be anywhere near the pirates that had given themselves up. She wanted to be long gone from here…put it to her tail and not come back until they were well on their way to Via only knew where, but hopefully somewhere behind bars and force fields for a very long time. Or maybe death row…that would be acceptable too. Pulling off her helmet, she turned off the comm. and shut down the HUD before clambering out onto the wing of her hawk warily and looking about. Once it was damn certain the coast was clear of any piratey evilness she lept down from the wing, landing in a slight crouch on the hard tarmac.
”You okay there, Bomber?”
Poor woman just about jumped out of her skin at the sound of Brathos’ voice behind her, straightening and spinning around in one swift motion. ”Cripes, Lorrd! You ‘bout scared me outta my skin! Don’t sneak up like that!” Dropping her hand from where it had pressed against her heart, she took a calming breath and looked at him. For what expression she could pick up from the wall-of-Brathos Anasazi/Lorrdian-kinetic-communication-lack-of-much-visible-expression-at-times-thing that she was still learning, Sam knew he suspected something.
”I’m fine. I mean other than you sneaking up on me I’m fine. Just adrenaline wearing off and all that…CRAP my jacket. Back in a flash!” And off she went, hopping up toward the wing and pulling herself up onto it before half climbing back into the cockpit to grab her father’s leather jacket from behind the seat.
Well…alright, so it was a bit of an escape tactic also…
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