Plasma Slugs and the flirtation with danger
07 Jan 2021Dystonia
Nobody wants to leave when the conditions are right. The lucky rock fisherman watching the rising tide, the best game golfer with an incoming lightning storm, or playing with your friends when mom said to be home in time for dinner. Such is the case when I found myself flying my Vulture in a HazRes. She's a beautiful craft: nimble, sturdy, yet very fast, can pitch like the major leagues, and fitted with two large plasma accelerators modded for efficiency and firing plasma slugs. The proverbial - Floats like a butterfly, stings like a bee. For those who are unaware, the plasma slug utilizes the ships fuel as the ammo source. A method I regard as convenient which negated the briskly consumed traditional ammo and having to leave a zone often to re-arm.
This comes at a price and I'm not talking about the damage reduction. Besides oxygen, fuel is right up there with things you need to survive within a galaxy trying to kill you. On a larger combat ship when using fuel as ammunition, you probably wouldn't even notice the dwindling level, however, on a Vulture the fuel is depleted surprisingly quickly. Every shot needs to count, and fuel warnings adhered to.
Obviously installing an extra fuel tank will reduce this consequence. Right? Sure, you're still burning fuel, but now you have more of it! More fuel = more time. Yet time is relative to the person experiencing it. I feel I have plenty of time, Covas does not. Their reminder that my frivolous thrust bursts with wild shooting and needs to return home for fuel are coming to a junction.
Which is about when I saw it. The mythical Federal Dropship wing. A three course meal of sluggishness, exposed bellies, pig-headed stubbornness, yet still possessing a zesty bite. I'm good to go, lets do this! I can outmaneuver them and still have plenty of dual chaff charges, this is going to be fun. Covas: Fuel at 25%.
I started traditionally, focusing on one target at a time. The method was the same for most larger ships I encounter, get behind them, or underneath them, or both; eventually the dancers will form enough space between them to meet face to face and depending on the profile, is one of the harder shots to place.
The Federal is not that craft, what it does have though is an array of pointy weapons and since my unstated objective was to make it out without losing shields, I need to keep moving. I thrust at them and at a particular point turn off flight assist to spin around and position at their passing rear, then power on to close the distance with the Vulture doing this oh so well.
The lead ship went down reasonably quickly as did the second and now my attention turned to the final Dropship, a somewhat sturdier and agile foe. There are times when using a plasma accelerator you can snipe the wings off a butterfly at a thousand paces, this was not that time. For every shot which hit, three missed, and of that one hit, it might only be the single hardpoint. Covas: Fuel at 10%
While all of this is occurring a never ending stream of - Scan Detected - is broadcast from a nearby FDL. You're next. Eventually I've chipped away at the Dropship enough and the wing is now disbanded in a glorious explosion. My attention now turns to the FDL, with a glace at the fuel meter my choice is made.
Referring to my previous comment about a ships profile, the FDL is quite slender and a head on can be challenging, it's top and underside being the preferred place, so I'm concentrating on those areas. more thrusting, more firing and I'm getting ahead of the battle. His shields are down and he's at 60%
Then I stop dead. Message are appearing, lights are flashing and the muffled sounds of gunfire hitting my hull echo though my now deployed helmet. I look over at the module panel and flick a few items in a hopeless attempt to comprehend the situation like a motorist tapping the fuel gauge. I'm not going anywhere.
I look around the cockpit, out the windows, at my hull meter. This is it, this is what happens. I told me this was going to occur sooner or later. Why didn't I listen to me? Over the course of the next five and a half minutes I say my goodbyes over comms and laugh at my own hubris. This is a good hull.
Vowing to never let this happen again I placed a 10% rule on myself. No matter what is happening, I leave. No matter how juicy the target is, there will always be another. There are those who will say - You need a fuel scoop! No, I don't. I need to disciple myself to leave at the appropriate time, besides, when a fuel star is further than a station or my fleet carrier, what's the point? It's only going to take the place of a far more useful module which will keep me alive longer, provided I monitor the fuel gauge.
Fly dangerously, CMDR's