"Copy that!" Troy yelled over the comm system in response to his wingman.
The captain interrupted. Okay Gamma group, prepare for some alien butt!
The four ships in Gamma were close together, only 5 meters apart from one another, and all waited anxiously for the incoming onslaught.
He saw them first as only orange blimps on the radar, but soon enough, they seemingly appeared to materialize before him. They were only 100 klicks away, each one gray and black, just like his own. Yet, they looked more formidable, as if they were wild beasts waiting for the right time to pounce on the prey.
He could see their pilots, not physically, but mentally. He saw their brown fur waving in excitement, their eyes menacing, and their mouths snarling. He could see their muscles writhing, impatient for action. They would be drooling, their tongues hanging disgustingly over their sharp, bloody teeth.
And they were watching him.
Suddenly, he felt fear. Today he could die. He could be blown to smithereens, just another pile of ashes to be burned up in Earth s atmosphere.
Earth. It was merely a pale blue dot behind him, but it was what he would be defending. This was the last defense.
Hold positions, the captain said slowly, yet there was a tremor of apprehension in his voice.
Suddenly, Amber came over the intercom. There s... too many of them. I, I don t know about this. The words came out in starts and stops.
She was right. Troy saw more and more of them on his radar. Soon, thousands of them flooded it. He could already see the first line being raked by laser fire. Explosions happened simultaneously in hundreds of spots at once, and they continued without hesitation. Bits of shrapnel went flying past his cockpit, a human arm, torn off from its body, was still moving in space. The blood, trickling out slowly, released itself from the appendage in small globs.
Where the hell was the first fleet? he asked, rhetorically. He already knew the answer, they were destroyed. The carriers, the starships, the fighters, all gone. Over two hundred thousand souls lost forever. It was a surprise attack, and ended in a massacre.
But the captain did not take the question idly. Listen here Troy, they did their job and we will do ours.
Abruptly, the explosions stopped, and he knew they were up next. It was as if it were a baseball game. The first line scored an out, and now the second line was up at bat. He turned on the afterburners and rushed himself toward home-plate.
Amber came over the comm. There s... just too- Her voice was cut off, replaced by static. Looking to his left, he saw her ship explode into a collage of yellow flames and red shrapnel. He turned his own evasively to the right so as to not be struck by any of the remnants.
No time to mourn now.
The battle had begun in earnest. With the first line completely gone, the flagship Olympus ordered all lines of defense to attack the enemy. Troy watched briefly while he saw the starships move into the line of fire. They were hundreds of them, ranging from mere Carriers to the huge Star Cruisers. Each class had its own unique shape, which varied according to its use in battle. The medical and repair ships would stay behind the line, seemingly safe from danger.
Fighters, thousands of them, both friendly and unfriendly, were also dashing wildly, avoiding the red lasers going back and forth in an orgy of gunfire.
All around, he saw fighters blow up in groups of ones, twos, threes, and fours. Gamma was down to two, some were completely decimated.
But he took a deep breath. He once vowed to protect the Republic at all costs, and this was no time to contemplate by how much they were losing. He had to concentrate on what was at stake: liberty. The game was not over yet; it had only begun.
Banking to the right, he brought the Hycathian war-birds into full view. He disregarded the images of snarling beasts from his mind, and focused solely on the mission at hand.
With a cold, sly grin, he brought one into focus. Maneuvering the ship from starboard to portside and back again to portside, he slowly brought it into full focus, and let go a pounding rain of laser fire.
Almost instantaneously, the war-bird turned into an object of hellish destruction, and, just as sudden, it was no more.
Grinning to himself, and inwardly ebullient, he let go with another round of fire, taking out another two of the enemy.
Seeing a red, blinking light in the corner of his eye, he switched on the comm system. A distress message from the flagship filtered in. All available fighters to the Olympus! We are under heavy attack! Repeat, we are under heavy attack! Shields are rapidly decreasing! We need aid immediately!
He brought the fighter to aft and turned the engines to full blast, making his way as quickly as possible to the endangered starship. Darting past debris, asteroids, and human body parts, he was at the Olympus in little time.
Three Hycathian gunships were attacking her relentlessly. Despite the Olympus letting go a torrent of torpedoes, they would not leave, at least quietly. His sensors indicated they were at 30%, 25%, and 50% shield capacity respectively. But the Olympus was only at 10%, and her hull was coming apart in sections.
Flying past one destroyed fighter, he made his way to the least crippled gunship.
Once he was within 30 km of range, he fired all torpedoes at it. Pulling up, he safely pulled his own fighter into safety.
After deciding he had gone far enough, he made a turnabout and went for the gunship once again. It was only at 30% shields now. O Conner, he shouted to his wingman, Cover me!
Aye, came the curt reply.
Without warning, he saw the turret on the gunship turn toward him. At that second, he was looking down the barrel of a cannon. And, for a moment, everything slowed down as seconds stretched out into days. He could feel it in his body. This was his end. Oh man , he said, the words forming slowly.
Then, snapping himself out of it, and thinking quickly, he made a series of evasive maneuvers. He pulled up hard on the stick, then put the small ship into a dive. It helped some, but a few of the lasers hit him straight on.
With each blast, he felt his fighter shake violently. Consoles exploded into a flurry of sparks, and his hull became charred. Loose wires hung only centimeters away from his face, threatening to kill him with the slightest touch. Sparks jumped out from it and onto his black jumpsuit.
Computer! Damage report!
The voice that came back was feminine and calm. Engines: 10% damaged, Hull: 50% damage, Navigation: 80% damage, Tatical: 63% damage, Attack Systems: 37% damage.
Shields? he cried, as yet another volley of laser fire hit him, but this time from a war-bird.
Functioning at 8% of total capacity.
He couldn t help himself. Jesus christ! One more blast from that gunship, and he would be gone. Just another pilot giving up his life in the name of the Republic.
He calmed himself down, taking deep breaths in and out. Okay, computer get shields working at full capacity as soon as possible. Engines are second priority, attack is third.
Complying, came the simple response.
He sighed, relaxing a little. Looking at the Olympus statistics, though, quickly made him tense again. Swearing under his breath, he saw the Olympus was only at 3% shields, and would soon be relying on its hull only. It had 3 minutes, five minutes max.
Looking out the cockpit, he saw all three gunships still there. If one could be taken out, it would buy the Olympus a few more minutes. Perhaps it would be enough for more fighters to get here.
Repeating his order from earlier to O Conner, he dashed his way toward the weakest of the three.
Seeing the ship rapidly growing larger in view, he slowly powered down the engines. With animal instinct in his eye, he let loose on the guns.
All of a sudden he didn t care. He kept on going straight toward it, as if he were possessed by some demon, some ghost. He would be a goner soon anyway, and it would better to go out in a blaze of glory. It was his death wish.
He watched as the gunship slowly began to completely fill the view of his cockpit. He saw the figures inside, their faces scared and afraid. He watched as they frantically ran about, unable to do anything.
And he watched as they merely stared at him, knowing they would die soon. Considering the state of the gunship, a collision with a fighter would destroy it.
He was only ten meters away when it happened. First it was only the place at which he was shooting at. Almost miraculously, a small explosion appeared, then bigger and bigger ones erupted. He saw the engines blow up, and he saw the gunship go down, taking its crew with it.
He sighed inwardly, and allowed his eyes to blink for a moment. The Olympus would have a few more minutes, maybe enough to destroy the other two.
But that was not for him to worry about, though. His fighter was almost beyond repair, and his only choice was to fly to the repair ship Plymouth. He would be transferred to another, and placed back into battle within moments.
For now, though, he savored the exhilaration of the moment.
He was placed back into the war within seconds of landing on the Plymouth. His wingman was gone, three-fourths of all fighters were destroyed, and the battle certainly was not in favor of the human forces.
Looking above and to the left of him, he watched as more gunships surrounded the Olympus. He immediately went to help.
But his hurry was for nothing. The Olympus was destroyed just as he arrived. The last transmission came out in garble: Ol break ..di-
The battle was lost. The war was lost.
He headed off to watch from afar as the final ships were destroyed in quick succession. Explosions first came in the tens, but dwindled down until only one was visible every minute.
He watched as the assault ships headed for Earth. Everything was lost.
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