Smitty saw it all. The attacking ship. The launching AFUs. Ryck Norican’s Dagger dropping his cannon and extra shields and picking up those crazy laser-swords. The enemy corvette getting shot down by the most epic fireworks show he had ever seen. For once, he saw beauty amidst the chaotic nature of war. The men cheered off 62 Squadron, having downed an enemy ship using tank rounds, in which now was heading for a crashing course. The burning corvette fell not far from where he stood, just less than a kilometer from the outermost walls of the factory, landing in a cloud of sand and smoke, creating a mini tremor as it hit the ground.
“Fockin’ hell, man.” Said Bray, rifle in hand. “That was the coolest shit I’ve ever seen.”
The whistling sound from the two Daggers’ engines–positioned on either side of the complex–rang loud, then followed by an explosive jump from both, launching high into the sky. With the blue tail-flames coming from the two Daggers, they launched to join in the Destroyers, hapless, sitting ducks to the enemy AFUs. Like blue comets in the nearly empty night sky, the two Daggers, swift and uncompromising in their movements, charged into the brawl.
New orders came in.
“Alright, lads, listen up,” Sergeant Orisan said. “Our troop has been chosen to storm that enemy ship and recover anything we could. Intelligence, documents, prisoners – anything. Unless they surrender, shoot at anything that moves. Understood?”
“Yes, sergeant!” they replied.
“Andy, lead the way.”
There was a grin on Kyrgiakos’ face. “Roger, boss. You heard the man! Onyourfeetladslet’sfuckemup!”
***
ns 15.158.61.20da2
