1, 2, 3, 4, 5.
07 Nov 2016AzraelDirge
All you gotta do is count to five. Doesn't sound hard, right? On paper, it sounds like the easiest thing in the 'verse. One ring of shields left. Gotta finish this fast. The Prismatic Knights Vulture desperately banks away from me, trying to break my lock. No such luck. I bear down right on him, and finish the job, turning his ship into a cloud of debris and vented atmosphere. I turn towards the friendly blue icons that represent my wingmen and punch the throttle through the gate. I need a breather to get some shields back online. Just as their ships are coming into view, Jas' voice crackles on my comms.
"Enemy commander! The Horr0r is here!"
Him. I recognize that name. We've tangled once before, and he and a system security conda forced me into a retreat. Time for a rematch. One ring of shields will have to do.
Angus and Jas tear into the fight, but the enemy's stealth ship is giving them hell. Jas has a emissive turret that should be spotting the target, but it's targeting doesn't seem to be functioning correctly.
I enter the fight at full boost, line up my guns on the bright red FDL, and mash the trigger. The entire hull shudders, and I can feel the vibration in my body as five multicannons spin up and start spitting fire at the enemy. The emissive rounds strike home, and his ghostly, flickering contact icon becomes a hollow red triangle in the radar. You're fucking mine.
He breaks off from the fight after only a little more, and tries to run. Tries. Angus's combat converted Orca liner, and my FDL run him to the ground. Engines and guns. My shields are complaining, and I push the reset button to shut off the overheat warnings. My finger begins to cramp on the trigger from mashing it so hard, but our pursuit is rewarded with a brilliant flash of combusting fuel as the enemy CMDR runs out of luck.
One.
Shit. He's too fast. I break off my pursuit of the fleeing Phoinix Ascension commander in the imp clipper, and boost back towards towards the main fight. I lock the first red pip on my radar, reach for the trigger, and stop myself when I realize it's a friendly who had a stray bullet plink off my shields. Nobody in EXO would forgive me if I accidentally shoot down Modar. The next target on my radar is exactly what I want. SadisticWitch, a PA Grandmaster, and one of the main instigators of this war. Perfect.
Just as my finger tightens on the trigger, the corvette in my gun sights blinks out of existence, and my scanners spot a FSD high wake. Fucking coward. I turn towards the last hostile contact, and throw power to engines. Apollyon. Not the one I really wanted, but I'll take any fight I can get. My wing is already tearing into him, and my guns roar to life as I enter firing range. The concentrated barrage rips away his shields in no time, and his hull fares even worse. I roll tight to avoid Pry as he pulls up beside me to get close for the finish, and a bright detonation full of secondary explosions from ammo cooking off marks the end of the only PA commander who didn't flee the engagement.
Two.
Boring patrol. I yawn as I turn wide around an asteroid, sliding over to avoid scraping my shields. A full evening of patrol work, with nothing but minor skirmishes to show for it. Just as Red, the defacto wing lead calls for us to leave the rez and head for dock, a hollow triangle blazes on the radar. Contact.
A corvette flying no colors slides slowly through the rez, it's fighter in tow. CMDR ScilentEclipse. IFF doesn't return anything useful, so we fall into attack formation on his tail and start sending hails.
"Unidentified corvette, please respond. This is an active war zone." Nothing. He continues to slide through the rez, radio silent, scanning targets for bounties.
Red makes the call. "Fuck it. He won't answer hails, he fits the RoE, and he's working against EXO war efforts. Light him up."
The instant the first round strike, the vette turns and runs. He's got no stomach for a fight against a wing of four. He makes it clear of the rez about the time his shields drop, and just about when the fight leaves mass lock range, his ship goes dead in the water and begins to drift aimlessly.
A boarding party discovers the reason why a little while later. A single multicannon round punched clean through the back of the bridge and out the canopy, striking the pilot in the neck on its way through. We never did find out whose gun fired the round.
Not the cleanest kill. Not my proudest kill. But a kill all the same.
Three.
Fights in a gravity well are insane. There's three combatants in every fight, you, the other guy, and the ground. I dive hard, pouring fire into the vette that's fleeing for the planetary base. DeathDealer, one of PA'S mid level pilots, flees the fire that I and an Atlas Corps ally are pouring into his shields. I depress the pickle switch, and watch the last of my magazine of missiles detonate against his shields as he reaches to no fire zone.
Not worth it. Not to chase a vette with shields remaining. I break from the attack vector, and turn to face the next target. SadisticWitch, running hard from the vette bearing down on his tail. I turn to engage and his lasers start to splash against my forward shields.We tear towards each other, head to head, and I break off. Call me chicken, but the math isn't on my side when it comes to a FDL ramming a vette head on. As I turn, another contact on radar catches my attention. Sir Sparhaawk, another PA Grandmaster, is barreling into the fight in an Anaconda. Grandmaster. Such a fucking pretentious title.
I break off and engage him, along with one of the Atlas Corps vettes in the wing. Sparhaawk's shields melt under our combined fire, and my computer chimes at me to let me know a fresh rack of missiles is ready to go. I bear down on him as he enters the no fire zone, never letting off the trigger. Fuck your no fire zone. The vette beside me breaks off, unwilling to incur the base's wrath. I press my assault.
Too fast. I overshoot badly, and barely throw power to shields in time to absorb the impact against the planet's surface. My helmet slams against the consol, and I can taste blood in my mouth. I throw pips into engines, and boost away from the surface, cutting a hard turn to get back on target.
My notification panel lights up red with messages from Hirayama Barracks as I willfully violate their no fire zone again. This kill is mine, and no imp air traffic controller is going to deny me it. Sir Sparhaawk's Anaconda detonates in a brilliant flash of overloaded reactor, and I strike the ground again, harder this time. Rookie mistake. Never forget the gravity. I punch the boost to get away as the station begins firing on me and I feel a fresh gash on my forehead start pouring blood into the inside of my helmet.
Four.
DeathDealer is back, apparently emboldened by his narrow escape earlier in the night. I drop from supercruise onto my wingman, who's already engaging. My radar instantly turns pure white with floating packhounds from the first engagement. I pick out the target a few klicks away, and boost into the fight. My wingman is already getting the best of DeathDealer, and when I join the fight, he turns to run. We prosecute the attack, and pour fire into the rear of his ship as he attempts to open a gap. He tries his best to run, but he simply doesn't have the speed. A series of rippling explosions rack his vette from the inside, tearing it apart and venting atmosphere.
And five makes an ace.