How I Got Here: “Summerland”
18 Jun 2024Columbuss
Commander Justin Estok. Stardate 18-JUN-3310.(EST. DATE OF EVENTS: 24-FEB-3308)
"I have a really bad idea..."
I pull back on the flight stick, pushing the throttle to the limit and boosting the engines. I'm pinned back in my seat as I turn the stick to the port side, watching as the smoldering Anaconda out in front of me rolls from the bottom of the canopy, up the side and to the top. As we pass, I boost the engines again, pulling back on the throttle and diverting power to the rear thrusters while keeping the burning ship out in front. The sensors light up, showing two red triangles pass by our position before I push the throttle forward again, steering The Chelsie under the dying Darkwater ship and back the way we came.
"They're coming back around," Finn yells from behind me, monitoring the sensors. "It's two Eagles. Imperial design by the look of them!"
"Kid!" I yell down to the deck below. "Maintain full power to engines and keep those ships on the scope!"
"Roger, Boss!" Brandson replies.
"Hold On!"
The Chelsie shudders and jerks from port to starboard as I try to navigate her through the swirling maelstrom unfolding around us. The otherwise cold, empty vacuum of space is lit up with thousands of golden tracer rounds, bright flashes of laser fire and the burning jet streams of ship to ship missiles. Heavy plumes of magnetized plasma hurl projectiles across the void from the capital ships we dart between. Hundreds of smaller craft, Asps, Eagles, Vultures and various other designs dance in the dark between the two opposing armadas, doing the grunt work of trying to gain the advantage over the other side. Finn calls out targets as I navigate the killing zone, doing my best to avoid incoming fire and jockeying for position against the waves of fighting ships assembled here to kill us.
I jerk the stick back to the starboard side as an Asp Scout eats a rail gun shot to the cockpit, bursting into a smoldering mess of flame and wreckage, directly out in front. It spins out as we pass by before a body, stiff and bloated from the vacuum of space, smacks against the canopy glass. I steer us past the wreckage before I'm slammed against my flight harness from a sudden jolt felt deep within the aft of the ship. Looking down at the sensors, I see that the two red triangles have veered back around behind us, staying just above the helium exhaust of the engines, each of them sporadically turning white to indicate that they're firing their weapons. Over top of the canopy, flashes of red beams and white hot tracer rounds streak by, occasionally ringing throughout the ship with a rat, tat, tat of contact with the hull, as I try to maneuver The Chelsie out of their firing line.
"We're taking fire," Finn calls out. "Those Eagles are right on our ass!"
"Kid! Give me a chaff count!" I call down to Brandson.
"Two countermeasures left, Boss!" he calls back, before The Chelsie's sensors start to ring.
"They've got a hard lock!" Finn yells. "Missiles in the water!"
"Divert power to systems, kid! Get my PDC online!"
"Roger that! Diverting power," Brandson yells back. "PDC active, but she's almost dry. She's working overtime back here, Boss!"
I pull back on the stick, trying to give the PDC a clear line of sight to the incoming missiles. A dull rumble can be heard from the rear of the ship as the PDC spins up its barrels and fires, sending a cavalcade of burning shrapnel out into the void, trying to kill the rockets burning toward us. I roll The Chelsie again, going into a spin and bringing the trailing missiles along for the ride, until the Imperial destroyer Xerxes is spinning in the canopy out in front.
"Splash one! Splash two!" Finn yells, watching as the quickly closing targets in the sensor screen light up and disappear, one after the other. "Missiles down, but the Eagles are still on us!"
"I have a really bad idea," I shout back. "Kid, get me a tight beam to the Xerxes!"
"Roger that!" Brandson yells back. "Comm open."
“What are we doing?!” Finn asks, slightly panicked.
"Chelsie Grin to Xerxes. Come in Xerxes," I say into the comm.
"Go ahead, Chelsie Grin," an Imperial voice calls back on the other end.
"I've got two fast movers on my six," I yell. "I'm bringing them in low and fast on your port side position. See what you can do about getting them off my back. Roger?"
"Roger that, Chelsie Grin," The voice replies. "Port side PDC operators are standing by. Be advised. Maintain safe distance to avoid shield collision."
“Roger," I yell back, keeping the commlink open. "Kid! Give me full power to engines and stand by to fire chaff cannons on my mark!"
“Tell me we’re not doing what I think we’re doing,” Brandson calls back.
“You’re going to want to hang on to something,” I reply.
Pitching The Chelsie down and boosting the engines, we're pinned back in our seats again as I turn the stick to the port side and then back to starboard, bringing the full length of the Imperial destroyer into view. Orange tracer rounds whiz past the canopy from behind, turning blue and disintegrating against the Xerxe’s shielding out ahead. The Chelsie groans as I pull hard up, trying to keep us level and avoid the incoming fire at the same time. The Xerxe's PDC cannons come in to view as we close the distance, angling their barrels toward our position.
"Stand by to fire kid," I yell down to Brandson, who's holding fast and waiting for my command.
“Time this wrong and those cannons will turn us into scrap,” Finn yells over my shoulder.
“I’m not dying today,” I reply, the distance narrowing.
“I don’t want to die today either,” Finn yells back.
“I can’t make any promises for you,” I reply, before calling down to Brandson. “Now, kid! Fire!”
Brandson deploys the countermeasures as the rear of The Chelsie erupts into a cascade of fiery, flickering gold sparks. The pursing Eagles maintain their fire, their targeting computers scrambling to find a firing solution in the golden melee of burning debris and fireworks. The tracer rounds whizzing by the canopy subside as I pull back on the stick, decreasing the throttle into the maneuver zone and boosting the aft thrusters, putting a ninety degree turn between us and the Xerxes. We're pinned back in our seats as The Chelsie makes a high-G burn away from the Imperial destroyer seconds before her PDC cannons open up, shredding the pursuing Eagles into tumbling heaps of fire and steel.
The veins in my head bulge, the high-G maneuver taunting my heart to keep beating. Pulling a sharp ninety degree turn at that speed, each of us temporarily gain, and drop, four hundred pounds in a matter of seconds. I pull the throttle back, easing The Chelsie into a more manageable speed as the Xerxes shrinks behind us. Had the maneuver taken any longer than it did, we all might have passed out.
“Let’s not do that again,” Finn groans, squeezing his temples between his palms.
"Good shooting Xerxes," I say into the comm, trying not to sound out of breath. "Thanks for the assist."
"Happy to help, Chelsie Grin," the voice replies. "Good hunting."
Free of our pursuers, I redeploy The Chelsie's hardpoints. The mechanical whir of the weapons coming free of their housings on either side echoes throughout the cockpit as I start analyzing the sensor screen beneath the canopy, looking for targets.
"Finn," I call back without turning around. "Give me a ping. Five clicks. Find me something to kill."
"Roger," Finn replies, before tapping at the sensor console and sending out a wave from The Chelsie that lights up the sensor screen with red triangles.
"Kid, give me a damage report. How are we holding up?"
"So far, so good," Brandson calls back from his flight chair on the deck below. "Minor scrapes and bruises. There's a few holes in us but we're okay for now. Shields are at fifty percent and climbing."
"Roger," I call back. "Finn! Targets!"
"No sign of the Peregrination yet," He says.
"I'm not looking for Kiersten right now," I yell back. "I'm trying to keep us alive! Find me something to shoot at!"
"Roger that," Finn replies, lighting up a target in my sensors. "I got a Cobra Mark 2! Dead ahead!"
I boost the engines, pushing the throttle hard until it stops. Holding on to the stick, I angle The Chelsie to keep the Cobra in the canopy as the digital tracker lights it up, counting down the distance between us. The Cobra pitches up as we close in, giving my guns a bigger target. Once the reticle locks on, I pull down on the trigger. The Chelsie's burst lasers open up, the acoustics of the cockpit echo the rapid thump, thump, thump of the cannons as each beam strikes the Cobra's shielding. The Cobra does a hard turn to port, proving more nimble and agile than The Chelsie and starts a hard burn in the opposite direction trying to escape.
I pull the throttle back to the maneuver zone, boosting my thrusters to stay with the fleeing ship. I steer The Chelsie in behind the target and, trying to anticipate their next move, I turn the stick hard to the starboard side, hoping the Cobra banks in the opposite direction. As predicted, the panicked Cobra makes an abrupt turn, hard to starboard and right into my firing line. The reticle tracks the target again as it moves across the canopy, lighting up with a firing solution. Opening up with the burst lasers, I watch as the blue shield protecting the Cobra melts away. Spinning up the dual multi-cannons, I hammer down on the trigger, listening to the dull hum on either side of the cockpit as hundreds of burning white tracer rounds jet out, into the void. The Cobra's starboard side erupts in a hail of fire and steel as she spins away, lifeless and out of control.
"Boss," Brandson calls up from the deck below. "I got a wide beam coming in from the Legio."
"Put it through," I reply, listening intently as I bank The Chelsie to the port side, narrowly dodging a torpedo not meant for us.
"Attention volunteer squadron," a posh, but frenzied Imperial voice says over the comm. "This is Prefect Arnotis Toro. The enemy line is broken. Repeat. The enemy line is broken. Imperial command has ordered a coordinated assault on the Black Emerald command ship. All vessels under my command, rally to my beacon and follow me in."
"Is he serious?!" Brandson calls up.
"We haven't known Toro very long," I reply. "But the guy didn't strike me as the type to make too many jokes, kid."
"Have you ever attacked a fully armed capital ship before?" Finn yells over the hum of the multi-canons outside.
"Nothing like this," I reply. "Just hold on and keep those sensors active."
I navigate The Chelsie through another barrage of tracer rounds, closing in on the green triangle highlighted on the sensor screen. More and more ships are pooling in behind it as it starts a hard burn toward the Darkwater capital ship out ahead. The Chelsie falls in to formation, highlighting Toro's ship and angling ourselves to the starboard side of it. It isn't long before our approach is recognized as the Black Emerald's guns open up, spraying the ships in the formation with beams and tracers rounds from their PDC cannons. I pitch The Chelsie down before pulling back up, narrowly avoiding an exploding Diamondback just outside the canopy. Once back in formation, I watch as three heavy rail gun strikes fly past the formation, impacting against the Black Emerald's hull, punching through the reinforced exterior and filling the space around it with melted steel and bodies.
The Black Emerald's stability thrusted begin firing chaotically as she tries to steady herself from the impact. PDC cannons maintain what fire they can, peppering the incoming flotilla with heavy shrapnel and cannon fire. They score another hit as the Vulture to the right of us catches fire, slows down and drops out of formation. The Black Emerald falls within firing range, the Chelsie's reticle lighting up with a hard lock as our multi-cannons begin to spin.
The comm lights up again with another wide beam comm from the Legio. Brandson puts it through to The Chelsie's speakers.
"Volunteer squadron," Toro calls out, his voice slightly muffled with static. "Darkwater ship is crippled. Close in and target their command deck. It's time to finish this."