course as it was to reach the transport. Kalzee didn’t have the greatest feeling about abandoning his post, protecting the tank farm, but the boss said move, so he was moving. But he knew that Ms. Samair was right, hitting that transport was a priority.
He didn’t have a briefing about the ship they were going after. Ms. Samair had uploaded a small packet of data about the assault transport, but it wasn’t great news. It was a big, lumbering beast, but that was obvious from the satellite sensor feeds. It was essentially barracks for a huge number of soldiers, plus shuttle bays for dropping said soldiers into combat, be that in space or on a planet’s surface. It had military grade shields and decent armor, but only rail guns and point defense lasers for armament. The transport relied on the other ships in the fleet for protection, mainly, and luckily the bulk of those defenses were out dealing with the rest of the FP ships here. Which gave Kalzee and his flight a small window of opportunity to strike.
“One minute to target, Kalzee,” Rokek called out over the channel.
“Right,” Kalzee said, sitting more comfortably on his pilot’s couch. He was one of the newer additions to the Aplora squadron, but per Korqath’s preference, all of the pilots in that squadron were zheen and Kalzee was no exception. “Target the transport, we’re going to hit them on the port side. There’s a main hangar hatch, we’ll aim for that. Hopefully our salvo will do some damage on the hangar deck, maybe we can get some secondary explosions.”
He pressed a control, linking his missiles to fire four at a time. The combat load out on the Zlk’vzn starfighter was twelve throat-ripper missiles and the pair of laser cannons on either side of the cockpit in the nose. With a quick change, Kalzee could fire off his entire missile load, throw twelve missiles at the transport in one go. Forty-eight missiles could do a lot of damage to the big ship, most likely could destroy it. But Ms. Samair had been adamant. She didn’t want the ship unable to function, or destroyed.
Kalzee had mulled over that during the trip from the gas giant. Certainly destroying a ship full of pirate assault troopers could only be considered a good thing. But on further reflection, if the ship was damaged and screaming for help, the pirates might pull back from this attack, perhaps even flee rather than lose too many of their ships and personnel. He was still wiggling an antennae about that. He wasn’t sure if he entirely believed that would work. I mean, these were pirates, right? Pirates didn’t really care all that much about preserving life. The commanders of the pirate force might be upset over the loss of forces, if not the people.
Of course, if he and his flight went too far, or if the strike team did too well and the transport was destroyed, there might be no check on the pirate’s rage. Verrikoth and his cruisers might burn down everything they could find out here, every piece of FP real estate, every Seylonique citizen.
Hence this plan. “Coming into range,” Kalzee said, his thumb over the trigger. There came a chorus of acknowledgements from the rest of the flight. His HUD let up red and began emitting a solid tone, the targeting reticule locked on the center of the transport.
“Missiles away!” he cried, depressing the trigger. Four missiles dropped from the fuselage and rocketed forward. On his screen he saw twelve more weapons streaking ahead toward the transport.
A second later, a voice chimed in over the communications channel, in the clear. “One vision!” the voice yelled. It was Leader Korqath, but what the hell was he doing?
“Strike flight, break off,” Kalzee ordered. “Stay on station, but keep out of the transport’s engagement range.” He watched as the
He didn’t have a briefing about the ship they were going after. Ms. Samair had uploaded a small packet of data about the assault transport, but it wasn’t great news. It was a big, lumbering beast, but that was obvious from the satellite sensor feeds. It was essentially barracks for a huge number of soldiers, plus shuttle bays for dropping said soldiers into combat, be that in space or on a planet’s surface. It had military grade shields and decent armor, but only rail guns and point defense lasers for armament. The transport relied on the other ships in the fleet for protection, mainly, and luckily the bulk of those defenses were out dealing with the rest of the FP ships here. Which gave Kalzee and his flight a small window of opportunity to strike.
“One minute to target, Kalzee,” Rokek called out over the channel.
“Right,” Kalzee said, sitting more comfortably on his pilot’s couch. He was one of the newer additions to the Aplora squadron, but per Korqath’s preference, all of the pilots in that squadron were zheen and Kalzee was no exception. “Target the transport, we’re going to hit them on the port side. There’s a main hangar hatch, we’ll aim for that. Hopefully our salvo will do some damage on the hangar deck, maybe we can get some secondary explosions.”
He pressed a control, linking his missiles to fire four at a time. The combat load out on the Zlk’vzn starfighter was twelve throat-ripper missiles and the pair of laser cannons on either side of the cockpit in the nose. With a quick change, Kalzee could fire off his entire missile load, throw twelve missiles at the transport in one go. Forty-eight missiles could do a lot of damage to the big ship, most likely could destroy it. But Ms. Samair had been adamant. She didn’t want the ship unable to function, or destroyed.
Kalzee had mulled over that during the trip from the gas giant. Certainly destroying a ship full of pirate assault troopers could only be considered a good thing. But on further reflection, if the ship was damaged and screaming for help, the pirates might pull back from this attack, perhaps even flee rather than lose too many of their ships and personnel. He was still wiggling an antennae about that. He wasn’t sure if he entirely believed that would work. I mean, these were pirates, right? Pirates didn’t really care all that much about preserving life. The commanders of the pirate force might be upset over the loss of forces, if not the people.
Of course, if he and his flight went too far, or if the strike team did too well and the transport was destroyed, there might be no check on the pirate’s rage. Verrikoth and his cruisers might burn down everything they could find out here, every piece of FP real estate, every Seylonique citizen.
Hence this plan. “Coming into range,” Kalzee said, his thumb over the trigger. There came a chorus of acknowledgements from the rest of the flight. His HUD let up red and began emitting a solid tone, the targeting reticule locked on the center of the transport.
“Missiles away!” he cried, depressing the trigger. Four missiles dropped from the fuselage and rocketed forward. On his screen he saw twelve more weapons streaking ahead toward the transport.
A second later, a voice chimed in over the communications channel, in the clear. “One vision!” the voice yelled. It was Leader Korqath, but what the hell was he doing?
“Strike flight, break off,” Kalzee ordered. “Stay on station, but keep out of the transport’s engagement range.” He watched as the
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