But he couldn't dwell on it long.
He heard Piper whistle approvingly as he caught up with the rest of the Flying Aces. Even as they ran, the Lumian was staring at his ship with a grin that was almost predatory.
"Damn!" she hollered above the blaring takeoff alarms. "That's what they call a prototype?! I'd love to poke around in that!"
"Save it for after the mission, Piper!" Magnus called back.
By now, each of the pilots were peeling off and heading down the gantries that ran parallel to their ships. Ryuga waited until he recognized his own platform - #3 - and then turned left as sharply as he could manage. His boots clanked on the metal beneath as he ran, remembering in the back of his mind the advice the Air Marshall had given. Breathe easily, don't force it, keep the energy bunched up for when it was needed.
Laura was already active and waiting when he arrived. A smirk crossed her face as she watched the brown-haired boy vault over the lip of the cockpit into his seat in a single, smooth motion. That was something he hadn't been able to do before, when his training had first begun. There was none of the old Junior Mechanic chubbiness about him anymore. He looked lean, racy and hard-muscled, as though he would break out into a sprint at any moment despite sitting down.
'Improved' was only one word she'd used to describe him now. The rest weren't family friendly.
"Look at you," she said, approvingly. "Five seconds off your previous time."
Ryuga nodded, smiling back. "Thanks. You ready?"
"Since five minutes ago. You got this, champ." The hologram vanished, and as the boy settled down the control harness swung down over his body. It locked into place with a hydraulic clunk, fixing him into his seat, and quick adjustements to the straps ensured it wasn't too tight. Then, as he felt his cockpit swing down through the body of his craft, he typed a quick sequence into the keypad and saw the familiar displays bloom into life in front of him.
All was ready.
The faces of the over four Wyverns appeared on the comms screen.
"Communication lines on," he heard Magnus say. His screen was at the top right of the layout, just where Ryuga could see if he turned his head a little. "All Wings, gimme a status check. You start us off, Rook." Responding to the new nickname, Ryuga glanced at his technical readouts, and saw everything was in perfect working order.
"Ryuga here," he said, nodding. "All systems okay."
"This is Piper! Everything's green!" The Lumian girl was beaning on her screen.
"Clint speakin', all's fine here." Clint still had his duster hat on, for some reason.
"Deimos here." The Minosian's brow was furrowed as he fiddled with something out of vision. "I think my stabilizers aren't calibrated properly. I'll need a moment to-"
"No time for that," Magnus cut in. "We got ships to support. You'll just have to tough it out." Ryuga heard a snort of consternation over the comms in response.
The hangar doors hissed and clunked, and then craked open with a heavy grinding noise. The brown-haired pilot squinted at the harsh sunlight streaking in, and then saw, as his eyes adjusted, the faint shapes of large capital ships in the distance, lined up in formation. Just ahead of them were forms he didn't recognize - the enemy ships, bunched closer together. And, in the very far distance, the hint of a coastline. Todenwald's shores were closer than he'd expected.
"Launching in five, team. Brace."
Ryuga clutched his sticks, every muscle tense and ready. He heard the wings of each Wyvern ratchet open, the jets slowly warming up. He heard a low growl from somewhere deep within the Crystal Heart, and didn't question it any longer. If this machine wanted to pretend that it was alive, that was fine by him.
This was it.
The restraining clamps opened with a metallic snap.
"LAUNCH!"
And one by one, the Wyvern Flying Aces shot out of the hanger and into the air.
-------
They emerged into a scene of chaos.
On the one side, the ARM capital ships and corvettes. Sharply angled and imposing, aimed like arrowheads at their enemy. On the other side, the sleeker-looking Benthian frigates surrounding the supply freighters. The former, long and flattened like eels, spraying long beams from head-mounted turrets. The latter, bulky things that brought the slow and sedate manatee to mind. And between them, in the midst of the lattice of laser fire, a cloud of brawling fighters.
It was Deimos who broke radio silence first.
"How on Taurus are we gonna get through that?!" he asked, already on edge. Ryuga didn't need his radar to see what he meant.
"We've got our orders," was Magnus's reply. "Keep clear and focus on the frigates. With them gone, the corvettes can make a move on the freighters." They were swooping in on the edges of the battlefield now, and the burning scars each shot left on their targets were becoming apparent. Ryuga blinked as he tried to make sense of the chaos through the flashes of green and red light and the blurs of the fighters cartwheeling around each other.
"There's five of us," he heard Piper chime in. "And five frigates. So that means one each. If we spread out, we can get this done quicker."
"Affirmative, Piper." Magnus banked easily to bring his Wyvern out of the swoop. "Pick your targets quickly, team - sharing isn't an option here."
Ryuga glanced down at his radar. The frigates were outlined as reddish streaks on the globe, forming a loose, W-shaped formation around the blobs that were the freighters. For a moment, his mind blanked on which of them would be the best target to take. Then one of them lit up on the console - to his right, further out from the field than the others - as a series of labels flashed around it.
'35% less fighter presence. 15sm out of formation. SITTING DUCK!'
Thanks, Laura.
"I'll go for the one on the right," he said. "It's closest and with less fighter escort."
"Good eye, Rook," came Clint's voice. "I'mma take that sunuvabitch down the middle. Give 'em something to cry about!"
"Due Left for me." That was Deimos.
"Then Piper and I will take the upper two." As Magnus spoke, his Fafnir narrowed its wings slightly, the jets flaring as it picked up speed. The others followed suit, and Ryuga copied their actions as best as he could, squeezing the throttle slightly. The Wyverns split apart from their formation, spreading out as they headed for their different targets, ignoring the frenetic fighting going on around them.
"Good luck, team," Magnus called out. "And radio in to me when you're done. Porphyrion willing!"
"Porphyrion willing," muttered Ryuga. But his voice was drowned in the other replies. He heard the beep of the comms shutting off, then banked gently and brought the Crystal Heart around to face the frigate of his choice.
Now that he was getting up close, it looked a lot more imposing. The broad, flat head with a suggestion of a toothy mouth made it look less like a deep-sea eel and more like a dragon. It slithered insidiously forward through the air, the sunlight glinting off the steely blue sides. One of the bow-mounted laser turrets was swivelling towards ARM corvette, which was banking hard to try and avoid the shot that was coming. Fighters buzzed around it in a tightly-knit swarm.
Ryuga felt bullets of sweat forming on his face. He ignored them.
"What am I looking at Laura?" he asked. Right on cue, the console bloomed into the shape of the enemy battleship, sections lighting up all around it.
"Built for speed, this thing." Laura's voice was a comfort, albiet a small one. "And firepower. Those turrets can put out enough kilothaums to break that corvette's shield. But they skimped on the armour in manufactuing, and it shows. The structure around the neck is pretty weak, so if you aim your shots right-"
"WHOA!"
The turret had fired. But not at the corvette. At the last moment, it had suddenly swung around, the searing light of the beam roaring up to meet him. With a wrench, he pulled the Crystal Heart into a sideways roll, barely managing to dodge the blast by a hair's breadth. Even through the reinforced cockpit canopy, he could feel the heat of the beam as it rushed by. And it didn't help that his head was still spinning by the time he levelled out.
"It wasn't aiming for the corvette!" he gasped.
"Cocky bastards," he heard Laura snarl. "Trying to lure us in! Fighters inbound, champ - you know what to do!"
Going by instinct alone, Ryuga gunned the engines as the fighters came up to meet him. He pulled another roll as he saw the first pinpricks of laser fire, and the bolts glanced off his sides as he dove past them. Then he swivelled the sticks hard, swinging the Wyvern to face the other way even as the jets swivelled to keep it on course. His retaliatory shots took down three of them at once, but he didn't stop to take it in, twisting to face the right away again before banking into a tight ascent upwards and to the left.
It was a good start, but it wasn't over - he could see the remaining fighters already in pursuit.
He flew out a little further to create distance, then twisted the sticks, bringing his craft into a tight U-turn that he knew the enemy couldn't replicate. Most of them went wide, as he'd hoped, but the rear guard was slowing down to get him in sight, and some were already firing again. This time he simply let them have it as they came at him, bringing down three more before the group scattered before his high-velocity swoop.
As he passed over the surface of the frigate, he spied the weak point Laura had spoken of. A section just behind the head, marked out by two greenish domes.
Part of him wondered who would deliberately design the equivalent of a 'kick me' sign on a frigate-class ship, but he pushed that aside for now. He banked and rolled, keeping the fighters in sight on his radar as they formed up once again, looking to catch up to him. He needed to get rid of them quickly, before the frigate picked a more substantial target - between them and the turrets, he knew he didn't have good odds.
Suddenly, an idea struck him.
Rather than trying to boost ahead of the fighters, he slowed slightly. Then he pointed his nose down and, hoping they would take the bait, accelerated in a dive towards the frigate. As he hoped, he saw the blur of red dots converge behind him, and he tried his best to keep his speed on an even level, aiming directly for the turrets. He could already see one of them swivelling around, looking to line up and cut him off before he got anywhere near.
Laura appeared to his left.
"You gonna try what I think you are?" she queried.
"Depends," huffed Ryuga past the lip he was biting, "what you think I'm gonna try."
"That's a big risk, champ." For the first time, he could see concern on the holographic girl's face. "You sure you can pull that off? If it goes wrong-"
"It's my best bet right now." Streaks of red were flying past his peripheral vision, and the barrel of the turret was glowing ominously.
Laura didn't reply. The shots were getting closer - he could hear them hissing past, buffeting his vehicle with their slipstream. A light was steadily growing in front of him, almost as bright as the sun, until it blossomed into a plume of red that-
NOW.
Just as the turret fired, Ryuga jammed hard up on the sticks. The Crystal Heart spread it's wings, stalled and then shot upwards in a change of direction that could only be described as a ninety-degree angle. The g-force involved made the boy bounce in his seat, and he swore he felt his own heart jump about in his chest. The laser thundered by, heat and light that made him wince in reflexive terror, hungry for his flesh.
But a glance at the radar saw what he had hoped for. A huge chunk had been sliced right down the middle of the attacking fighters, which were scattering like bees in a windstorm. Unable to copy his last-minute move, they'd taken the brunt of the laser and had been incinerated by their own comrade's weapon.
"NICE!" Laura whooped into his ear. "NOW, LET 'EM HAVE IT!"
The turret never got a chance to recover. Violet fire tore into its metallic shell and ripped it apart. Then more shots, accompanied by a searing Plasma Bomb, rained down on the unprotected neck of the frigate. The barrage ripped through the outer hull and down to the inner workings in seconds, starting a chain reaction that sent explosions rippling along the eel-like hull. The remaining fighters, seeing their cause was lost, didn't bother to pursue.
Ryuga pulled away and watched in disbelief as he saw the frigate come apart behind him.
"Seriously?" he muttered.
"Seriously." Laura's triumphant expression lit up the cockpit. "Hope those guys saved their receipts on that shoddy design. Good shit, by the way, champ - you had me going for a moment!"
Laura appeared to his left.
"You gonna try what I think you are?" she queried.
"Depends," huffed Ryuga past the lip he was biting, "what you think I'm gonna try."
"That's a big risk, champ." For the first time, he could see concern on the holographic girl's face. "You sure you can pull that off? If it goes wrong-"
"It's my best bet right now." Streaks of red were flying past his peripheral vision, and the barrel of the turret was glowing ominously.
Laura didn't reply. The shots were getting closer - he could hear them hissing past, buffeting his vehicle with their slipstream. A light was steadily growing in front of him, almost as bright as the sun, until it blossomed into a plume of red that-
NOW.
Just as the turret fired, Ryuga jammed hard up on the sticks. The Crystal Heart spread it's wings, stalled and then shot upwards in a change of direction that could only be described as a ninety-degree angle. The g-force involved made the boy bounce in his seat, and he swore he felt his own heart jump about in his chest. The laser thundered by, heat and light that made him wince in reflexive terror, hungry for his flesh.
But a glance at the radar saw what he had hoped for. A huge chunk had been sliced right down the middle of the attacking fighters, which were scattering like bees in a windstorm. Unable to copy his last-minute move, they'd taken the brunt of the laser and had been incinerated by their own comrade's weapon.
"NICE!" Laura whooped into his ear. "NOW, LET 'EM HAVE IT!"
The turret never got a chance to recover. Violet fire tore into its metallic shell and ripped it apart. Then more shots, accompanied by a searing Plasma Bomb, rained down on the unprotected neck of the frigate. The barrage ripped through the outer hull and down to the inner workings in seconds, starting a chain reaction that sent explosions rippling along the eel-like hull. The remaining fighters, seeing their cause was lost, didn't bother to pursue.
Ryuga pulled away and watched in disbelief as he saw the frigate come apart behind him.
"Seriously?" he muttered.
"Seriously." Laura's triumphant expression lit up the cockpit. "Hope those guys saved their receipts on that shoddy design. Good shit, by the way, champ - you had me going for a moment!"
Ryuga nodded, trying to beat down the nervous palpitations of his heart. Then he reached for his keypad and pushed down on the comms button, opening up the frequency shared between the Wyverns. He'd remembered what Magnus' orders had been.
"This is Wing Six reporting," he said, steering towards the rest of the battle. "Target frigate is down. Repeated, target is down."
Magnus' face appeared on the screen in response. His expression hadn't changed an inch since Ryuga had last saw it. But behind the sunglasses, an evaluating stare seemed to be directed at him, like a man at a carnival waiting to see the monkey dance.
"Not too shabby, Rook," he drawled. "But we already took ours before you did."
Disbelieving, Ryuga glanced at the radar. That statement, on it's face, made no sense. But his instruments told no lies - the skies ahead were absent three other frigates. The wreckage of the unfortunate ships were already dropping towards the ocean, crippled masses of burning metal. One of them already hit it, sinking slowly beneath the waves in a plume of steam. The Fafnirs responsible were circling the airspace where they'd once been, idly picking off fighters with a stray laser or two.
He felt his heart sink as his accomplishment suddenly seemed less grandiose.
Fucking dick, he thought he saw Laura mouth.
And then he got another surprise when two more faces burst in.
"Don't you listen to Mags," cut in Clint. "He's just jealous 'cause he didn't make it look good."
"Yeah!" added Piper, formerly green eyes flashing danger red. "That was the best Wensdale Juke I've seen in a long time! Not even the best Hornet pilots get it completely right!" Ryuga felt the pride swell right back up again inside him despite himself.
Magnus's eyebrow twitched, but his expression remained neutral.
"We're not here to put on a flight show," he retorted. "We're here to do a job. I'll admit that was good flying, but that doesn't matter if you can't take your target down. And speaking of, what's taking-"
"HEEEEELP!"
Deimos's shout was so sudden that Ryuga would have jumped out of his seat were it not for the harness. The Minosian's face, wracked with panic, appeared on the comms at the same time his Wyvern came into view on the radar - drunkenly wobbling and tailed by a pack of fighters.
"I can't shake them!" Deimos mooed. "Oh, I knew my stabilisers felt off!"
"Piper!" Magnus snapped. "You're closest - give Deimos support! I'll handle the frigate!"
"I'm on it!" Ryuga saw Piper's craft peel away from its circle and boost towards Deimos. The other pilot's craft was swinging widly from side to side now, barely managing to evade the barrage of lasers aimed at it, and it was clear the pilot was struggling. Magnus shot past the scene, making a beeline for the frigate, but the fighters didn't turn to pursue him. It might have been better if they had - Piper came on fast and guns blazing, and within seconds they'd exploded into fireballs.
Deimos slowed his frantic flight and banked to join the others.
"Thanks, Piper," he gasped. "I thought I was grilled beef for a moment!"
"You gotta get that looked at, pal," Clint replied. "Ain't natural for a bird to go swingin' like an apple on a rope. I reckon some idiot techie messed with yer stabilizers."
"I can look for you."
Ryuga blinked as he realised that had been his voice speaking. Then he looked at his comms screen, and saw that Deimos was practically beaming.
"You would? Oh, thank you!" he boomed. "I'd almost forgotten you used to be a mechanic!"
"And I'll help, too!" Piper added, grinning. "That looks like a two-ie job to me, right, Ryuga?"
Ryuga felt himself going red, and he heard Clint chuckle quietly. He was saved from potential embarrasment when Magnus rocketed back into frame and pulled up.
"I've taken the frigate down," he reported. "The General's ordered the capital ships to move in and board those freighters. All we gotta do is keep the fighters off them. Group up with me and follow my lead for this one. You okay there, Deimos?"
"Yeah," groused Deimos, mood sour. "Thanks for leaving that query to last, by the way. I almost would have thought you cared."
Magnus didn't reply, but turned and accelerated towards the nearest of the capital ships. Without a word, the others formed up behind him, all of them flying in the classic V-formation as they closed the distance. In seconds the five were dancing among the arrow-head bulk of the bigger ships, every laser shot spelling the end of another fighter. The capital ships slowly drew alongside the immobile freighters, unmolested and unchallenged.
But Ryuga felt uneasy. Something about this felt off. Why had it been so easy to take down those frigates? Their resistance had felt almost half-hearted, even though they'd had the firepower to down a corvette or cripple a capital ship. It seemed much too easy to render the freighters helpless in such a short time. There had to be a reason for-
Laura flickered into life in front of him. She wasn't grinning.
"Champ," she said, "you might wanna see this."
-------
"This is ARM CS Monroe, reporting to Flagship Triumphant. We're preparing to board the enemy, over."
"Copy that, Monroe. Hornets will provide air cover until your boys are done. Triumphant out."
The communication winked out, the face of the Monroe's commander vanishing from the screen. General McCreery smiled to himself as, tuning out the babble from his operators, he turned to the window of the bridge to face the battle. The sun was brightly shining overhead, and the blue of the Todenmeer stretch out before him like an azure canvas. In front, he could see his own capital ships moving in alongside the stricken frigates, fighers weaving in and out of the chaos.
And, somewhere in there, the five ace Wyvern pilots. One of them was Ryuga.
They'd all done well, he had to admit. Especially Ryuga - that had been some damn good flying. It was almost disappointing to think that frigate-class ships could be taken down so easily. But it amused him to think that the Benthians, after their initial shock tactics had gone so well, would let themselves be caught out like this. This victory, practically a curbstomp in military terms, felt almost cathartic after the events of the Capital City attack - a middle finger to the enemy's morale and superiority.
But what was in those freighters? Why was it so important that it needed escorting? That was what McCreery wanted to know. It was a good job they'd managed to intercept it when they did, or else the opportunity would have slipped though their fingers. And then who knows what would have happened to Todenwald if the Benthians had got there unchallenged-
His thoughts were interrupted by a beep and a flashing light on the console.
"General?" piped up an operator. "We're getting a comms request from the CS Celeste."
"Patch them through," McCreery ordered. The operator did as requested, typing away as the General turned back towards his holoscreen. Of all the things to bother him with now... Oh, well. Wouldn't hurt to kill the time with some banter, perhaps. Or maybe give somebody a little support, if that was what they wanted. It probably wasn't anything too important.
A commander much like the one from before, except perhaps a touch younger, appeared on the screen. McCreery fixed him with one of his trademark evaluating stares.
"Report," he said.
"Commander Jarvis here, of the CS Celeste." The man look uncertain with himself. "Sir, we're not reading any life signs from those freighters. Nobody on board that we can see."
McCreery paused. That wasn't right...
"You sure about that, commander?" he demanded.
"Positive. I mean, it could just be a callibration error, but-"
-------
"The hell do ya mean, nobody's on?"
Clint's face looked skeptical, as did Magnus'. But Ryuga's cry had been so frantic that Deimos and Piper looked immediately concerned. They were banking around over one of the freighters in formation, Ryuga closest to the great, smooth hull, taking down fighters as they went. The Monroe had just drawn up alongside it, the boarding tunnel extending from one side of the prow.
"I mean what I said!" Ryuga shouted. "Those freighters aren't manned! No pilot, no auto, nothing! They're empty!"
Piper caught on first, covering her mouth. Clint raised an eyebrow, and Deimos's face grew pale.
"That's ridiculous, Rook," snapped Magnus. "Why would the enemy bring unmanned, empty supply freighters into the middle of a fight?"
"Because they're rigged to-"
He got no further than that.
White fire consumed his vision. Then a force like an angry god's fist slammed into the Crystal Heart. He heard a scream - who's, he didn't know - and felt himself tumbling over and over like a catherine wheel, alarms blaring around him. The impact jolted him forward in his seat, and the harness couldn't stop his head cracking against the control console. Pain flared through his skull, and spots danced in his eyes.
Then the world went black.
-------
When the light died, McCreery peered over his arm, which had been covering his face.
Half of the Monroe was gone, gouged out like some great beast had taken a bite from it. The rest, smoldering and still cracking apart, was plummeting from the sky. The rumble of the explosion was still ringing in his ears, and the floor beneath him was vibrating from the renmants of shockwave. The operators around him had fallen silent, shock and horror rendering them mute.
As for the enemy freighter, it wasn't there any more. Only a few bits of shrapnel gently twirled through the air.
Shrapnel that trailed white fire.
Magnesium charges.
Even as the other capital ships began to frantically backpedal, McCreery breathed the words that were only just sinking into everyone else's mind.
"It's a trap..."
Deimos slowed his frantic flight and banked to join the others.
"Thanks, Piper," he gasped. "I thought I was grilled beef for a moment!"
"You gotta get that looked at, pal," Clint replied. "Ain't natural for a bird to go swingin' like an apple on a rope. I reckon some idiot techie messed with yer stabilizers."
"I can look for you."
Ryuga blinked as he realised that had been his voice speaking. Then he looked at his comms screen, and saw that Deimos was practically beaming.
"You would? Oh, thank you!" he boomed. "I'd almost forgotten you used to be a mechanic!"
"And I'll help, too!" Piper added, grinning. "That looks like a two-ie job to me, right, Ryuga?"
Ryuga felt himself going red, and he heard Clint chuckle quietly. He was saved from potential embarrasment when Magnus rocketed back into frame and pulled up.
"I've taken the frigate down," he reported. "The General's ordered the capital ships to move in and board those freighters. All we gotta do is keep the fighters off them. Group up with me and follow my lead for this one. You okay there, Deimos?"
"Yeah," groused Deimos, mood sour. "Thanks for leaving that query to last, by the way. I almost would have thought you cared."
Magnus didn't reply, but turned and accelerated towards the nearest of the capital ships. Without a word, the others formed up behind him, all of them flying in the classic V-formation as they closed the distance. In seconds the five were dancing among the arrow-head bulk of the bigger ships, every laser shot spelling the end of another fighter. The capital ships slowly drew alongside the immobile freighters, unmolested and unchallenged.
But Ryuga felt uneasy. Something about this felt off. Why had it been so easy to take down those frigates? Their resistance had felt almost half-hearted, even though they'd had the firepower to down a corvette or cripple a capital ship. It seemed much too easy to render the freighters helpless in such a short time. There had to be a reason for-
Laura flickered into life in front of him. She wasn't grinning.
"Champ," she said, "you might wanna see this."
-------
"This is ARM CS Monroe, reporting to Flagship Triumphant. We're preparing to board the enemy, over."
"Copy that, Monroe. Hornets will provide air cover until your boys are done. Triumphant out."
The communication winked out, the face of the Monroe's commander vanishing from the screen. General McCreery smiled to himself as, tuning out the babble from his operators, he turned to the window of the bridge to face the battle. The sun was brightly shining overhead, and the blue of the Todenmeer stretch out before him like an azure canvas. In front, he could see his own capital ships moving in alongside the stricken frigates, fighers weaving in and out of the chaos.
And, somewhere in there, the five ace Wyvern pilots. One of them was Ryuga.
They'd all done well, he had to admit. Especially Ryuga - that had been some damn good flying. It was almost disappointing to think that frigate-class ships could be taken down so easily. But it amused him to think that the Benthians, after their initial shock tactics had gone so well, would let themselves be caught out like this. This victory, practically a curbstomp in military terms, felt almost cathartic after the events of the Capital City attack - a middle finger to the enemy's morale and superiority.
But what was in those freighters? Why was it so important that it needed escorting? That was what McCreery wanted to know. It was a good job they'd managed to intercept it when they did, or else the opportunity would have slipped though their fingers. And then who knows what would have happened to Todenwald if the Benthians had got there unchallenged-
His thoughts were interrupted by a beep and a flashing light on the console.
"General?" piped up an operator. "We're getting a comms request from the CS Celeste."
"Patch them through," McCreery ordered. The operator did as requested, typing away as the General turned back towards his holoscreen. Of all the things to bother him with now... Oh, well. Wouldn't hurt to kill the time with some banter, perhaps. Or maybe give somebody a little support, if that was what they wanted. It probably wasn't anything too important.
A commander much like the one from before, except perhaps a touch younger, appeared on the screen. McCreery fixed him with one of his trademark evaluating stares.
"Report," he said.
"Commander Jarvis here, of the CS Celeste." The man look uncertain with himself. "Sir, we're not reading any life signs from those freighters. Nobody on board that we can see."
McCreery paused. That wasn't right...
"You sure about that, commander?" he demanded.
"Positive. I mean, it could just be a callibration error, but-"
-------
"The hell do ya mean, nobody's on?"
Clint's face looked skeptical, as did Magnus'. But Ryuga's cry had been so frantic that Deimos and Piper looked immediately concerned. They were banking around over one of the freighters in formation, Ryuga closest to the great, smooth hull, taking down fighters as they went. The Monroe had just drawn up alongside it, the boarding tunnel extending from one side of the prow.
"I mean what I said!" Ryuga shouted. "Those freighters aren't manned! No pilot, no auto, nothing! They're empty!"
Piper caught on first, covering her mouth. Clint raised an eyebrow, and Deimos's face grew pale.
"That's ridiculous, Rook," snapped Magnus. "Why would the enemy bring unmanned, empty supply freighters into the middle of a fight?"
"Because they're rigged to-"
He got no further than that.
White fire consumed his vision. Then a force like an angry god's fist slammed into the Crystal Heart. He heard a scream - who's, he didn't know - and felt himself tumbling over and over like a catherine wheel, alarms blaring around him. The impact jolted him forward in his seat, and the harness couldn't stop his head cracking against the control console. Pain flared through his skull, and spots danced in his eyes.
Then the world went black.
-------
When the light died, McCreery peered over his arm, which had been covering his face.
Half of the Monroe was gone, gouged out like some great beast had taken a bite from it. The rest, smoldering and still cracking apart, was plummeting from the sky. The rumble of the explosion was still ringing in his ears, and the floor beneath him was vibrating from the renmants of shockwave. The operators around him had fallen silent, shock and horror rendering them mute.
As for the enemy freighter, it wasn't there any more. Only a few bits of shrapnel gently twirled through the air.
Shrapnel that trailed white fire.
Magnesium charges.
Even as the other capital ships began to frantically backpedal, McCreery breathed the words that were only just sinking into everyone else's mind.
"It's a trap..."
TO BE CONTINUED...
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