Waypoint White, 0100 Hours
WO2 Ryck Norican noticed the sudden commotion in the general frequency.
“This is Charlie Zero-One. We have an UNKNOWN coming in high from the north. Can anybody confirm?”
“Spotters, can you confirm?”
“Negative, it isn’t a meteor.”
“Fuckin tell me what it is, anybody got eyes on it?”
Ryck pulled down his targeting visor. He zoomed to the position of the ‘meteor’. Flames were about it, but it was stabilizing, and quickly turning, as normally the procedure of atmospheric reentry. It was none other than an enemy ship, corvette or destroyer sized. Scanners on his AFU went through the visuals. A few seconds going through it, the built-in craft identifier on his AFU came in with surprising info:
Uranus-class Corvette (ARC).
AFU=YES
“Break-break, this is Reaper 03. I have visual of the unknown object. Scanners show that it is a hostile Uranus-Class Corvette capable of carrying AFUs. Mongoose 32, Mongoose 32, this is Reaper 02, can you gun it, over?”
Captain Morton Sykes, Hrasvleg Army Air Corps, quickly replied, albeit with static about his voice. “Roger. We’ll try. If it gets Arclights or Hawks out, we’re dead.”
“I got your arse, boss, hang tight.”
“But there’s only the two of you, Reaper 03. Over.” He sounded panicked.
“We can handle it. You shoot it down before it gets close, over!”
“Roger. We’ll try. Alright, All Mongooses, calculate trajectory of that ship and fire at my queue.”
From his user interface, the ship was 10000 meters away, and closing in. It was zooming in fast.
9500. 9000. 8500. 8000. “It’s coming in fast, Mongoose 32-“
“We’re not in range, Reaper 03. Standby. Calibrating weapons systems… All guns ready. All Mongooses, open fire at Five-zero-zero-zero mikes. How copy?”
“Roger!”
“Solid copy, boss!”
From where he stood, he could see the five Destroyers repositioning themselves. The heavy AFUs turned around and readjusted their guns. They reloaded the magazines of their 120mm gun and 40mm autocannons.
At 6000 meters, over the night sky, Ryck could see blue flames launching away from the enemy corvette. First there was one. Then three. Then five. Then they kept coming, until there were eight tails.
“Eight of them,” Sophie said through the radio. “Bloody hell.”
“Reaper 02, this is Mongoose 32. We confirm sightings of zero-eight enemy AFUs coming our way.” There was a hint of desperateness in Morton’s speech. He called in from a closed frequency belonging to 187 squadron. Sykes did not want his men to hear that the squadron was in a sense of distress. The TF-07 Defender was inferior in comparison to other AFUs in dogfights and today might be the end of 62 Squadron. “Deschamps, defend Waypoint White at all costs.”
“Solid copy, 32.” Said Sophie. “We’ll do our best. Over.”
“Baseplate is sending in a Dagger squadron to our AO so hang in tight. ETA one-five minutes. Mongoose 32 out.”
6500. 6300. 6100. The counter went lower and lower as the enemy corvette went closer and closer. The enemy AFUs, identified now through their HUDs as Arclights, were ways faster than the corvette, and launched towards them at astounding speed. Ryck decided, fuck it, “Reaper 02, this is Reaper 03.” He said through the radio. “I’m dropping my one-twenty. I’m launching after the bastards.”
He quickly pressed the disengage lock, letting his fingers go of the large 120 mm gun. It dropped with a large thump on the ground. He dropped the heavy leg armor. From a sheath in his leg, he took out the cylindrical hilt of the beamsword, and powered it up. The large, high-energy weapon switched on with a burning screech. The unit felt much lighter and maneuverable. He flexed the limbs of the AFU. The large gun would give recoil too large to handle while in mid-air, while the armor would make his unit stiff and inflexible. The only way to end this was to surprise them with close-quarters melee combat.
5800. 5600.
“Negative, Ryck.” Sophie said. “I’m not letting you go there alone.” She said. She followed Ryck in taking off the cumbersome striker pack. She unleashed her beamsword as well, and unlocked her knees from the ground.
“Fuck it, yeah?”
“Let’s get this over with.”
5400. 5200. 5000. 4800.
Sykes’ voice came into the comms. “Fire. Fire. Fire.”
His men followed. Locking their firing legs onto the ground, the Destroyers unleashed a heavy barrage of 120 mm Armoured Piercing Incendiary–Tracer rounds. A few missiles – what was left from the initial barrage – were launched. Tracers lit up the night sky. There were good hits all around the enemy craft. 62 Squadron was famed for its highly-accurate artillery strikes and they had proved that yet again today.
“Concentrate fire on the magazine!”
“This is Mongoose 34, good hit, good hit!”
It was like watching fireworks. The corvette slowed down. Turning would make it a larger target now, and the only option was to go straight through the Alliance lines and into the relatively safe territory under Dominion control. Captain Sykes was convinced to not let that happen. The fire kept on and on and on. The deflector shields were overwhelmed by the volume of fire, and shots started peeling off its skin, piercing through the frontal armor and lower hull of the corvette. Shots landing on its sides blew through, and not much longer, there was a large explosion. It was the ship’s ammunition rack. Smoke and fire grew out of the ship’s side, and it began to descend, its engines failing. The large craft passed above the line of Destroyers, crashing down onto the side of Hill 377 in a hail of fire and dust.
“We got it, lads!” yelled one pilot through the radio. The squadron frequency was filled with cheers and exclamations, but the newfound relief was quickly cut short by a sudden blow on one of the Destroyers. Although relatively unaffected, the Destroyers were turned to alert.
“Shit!” Captain Sykes said. A section of four Arclights had come in charging the battle line of Destroyers from one side, and another four on the other. Mongoose 34, one of the Destroyers, was struck with a volley of 40mm fire, throwing the cumbersome unit off balance. The Arclight, still equipped with the space flight configuration, charged Mongoose 34 with its shield. The Arclight finished it off with three shots to the cockpit. Mongoose 34 did not explode, but the cockpit was on fire. The other Destroyers turned to engage, but to no avail, the slow AFUs were quickly disabled by the swift Arcturian Arclights.
The Daggers, with no guns and armed only with melee weapons quickly jumped to their assistance. The Battle of Waypoint White had now truly begun.
***
ns 15.158.61.20da2
