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A new role
It’s that time again. The station crews report that they’ve nearly completed loading the precious crates of Purified Xithricite ore into their holds and will be ready for departure in 5 minutes. I gaze across the bay at the two gleaming transports. A giant Aerna Transport right off the assembly line dwarfs the older and more battered Orion Transport sitting next to it. These transports MUST get to Serco space.
I run my hand across the pitted nosecone of my trusty Mineral Extractor Warthog. I’ve never actually used it for mining, but this baby has helped me survive many battles against Itani pilots. With a clank, a mechanic unclamps my trusty gatling turret from its home in my belly weapons bay and a power mover removes it and places it on a waiting weapons rack. I reassure myself that I will return for it after this run.
The mechanic’s mover returns, and carefully places a repair gun into the bay of my ‘hog. I sigh. With that one change in my loadout, my combat effectiveness has eventually been reduced to nothing. However, I suppose that I shouldn’t be too upset. This miner hog was never meant to see combat in the first place. I fly this ship precisely for that reason. No one expects anyone to take that ship into battle and come out alive. It is my job to be underestimated and ignored.
The transport crews radio that they will be ready to leave momentarily and with a nod, I give my silent thanks to the mechanic who’s repaired this battered bitch time and time again. Before the canopy even finishes rising, I’ve hopped into the cockpit and am fastening the my flightsuit’s helmet.
With the flares of ion drives lighting off, the transports move towards the atmosphere containment forcefield. A brace of Prosus assaults and a pair of Arklan guardians move to their preprogrammed launch positions and follow the transports out of the station. I’m last on the launch queue, and I can feel the electromag-cat grabbing hold of my fighter. In under two seconds, I’m traveling out of the station and I turn to put the Aerna transport in the center of my HUD.
My three squad mates and I form up on the transports as they head out of Sedina L2. We have a lot of practice escorting transports, so there is very little com chatter as we carry out our assigned duties. Due to my lack of heavy weaponry, I feel adrenaline surging through my system because I know that if an attacker decides to go after me, I have very little with which to defend myself. I take a moment to swing the hog's nose around to test its maneuverability, and with a grimace, I realize that the repair gun adds more mass than the gatling, meaning that not only am I practically helpless, but I can't even maneuver to get away from potential hostiles. The thought does not comfort me even after I get into position behind the lead convoy transport.
The nav computer silently counts down the meters until we can safely jump to the wormhole. The Cents hit their drives and jump. The transports and hogs follow several only moments later.
We enter Sedina B8 and as the residual energy of our insystem jumps radiate from our ships, we search our radars for the transports and note the odd lack of hostiles. Strange. I orient my fighter to intercept the course of the Aerna transport. Those things are the favorite targets of Itani raiders, so I know that my repair gun will most likely see action before this day is over.
There! My IFF identifies a single Itani Centurion III jumping into the sector 9 o’clock low. As predicted, he heads straight for the Aerna transport and one waiting cent and myself. The cent is much faster than this hog, but I know that I’m not his intended target. In fact, he’s probably already scanned me and has dismissed me as a non-threat. Blue gauss bolts streak over my head and towards the transport. There he is! I make visual contact with the bogey at 9 o’clock high.
I tense my arm, ready to heel over and let loose a deadly stream of gatling rounds into his paper-thin armor, but with a grimace, I remember that I removed that weapon just minutes before. The sight of his vulnerable belly sits enticingly above me, but I can do nothing. Already my partner has come around and is sitting on the attacker’s tail, laying down covering fire with his neutron blaster. With a predatory smile, I warm up the seeker heads on my Gemini missiles.
Despite that the angle between myself and the attacker is bad, I heave my ship around and let loose with a pair of gems. The sudden appearance of missiles at point blank range startles the Itani and he quickly pitches up to evade them. Big mistake. He presents the entire top of his fighter towards my partner, whose neut III cuts him to pieces.
It’s now my turn. I charge up my repair gun and give the transport a second to stabilize its course before I let loose a single blue bolt that races out and impacts on the transport’s damaged engine section. The results are immediate and unmistakable. The nanites repair all the damage to the transport, patching holes in its armor and sealing gas leaks right before my eyes.
I quickly search through my list of radar contacts, and find the slower Orion transport. It’s unscathed and is in tight formation with the second flight group.
My nav computer quietly beeps a warning that I’ve entered into the perimeter of the Sedina-Latos wormhole. As my com picks up the clutter of signals from the transports and their robotic escorts indicating that they are jumping, I doublecheck my calculations in my head and with a smile, slam through the wormhole.
I run my hand across the pitted nosecone of my trusty Mineral Extractor Warthog. I’ve never actually used it for mining, but this baby has helped me survive many battles against Itani pilots. With a clank, a mechanic unclamps my trusty gatling turret from its home in my belly weapons bay and a power mover removes it and places it on a waiting weapons rack. I reassure myself that I will return for it after this run.
The mechanic’s mover returns, and carefully places a repair gun into the bay of my ‘hog. I sigh. With that one change in my loadout, my combat effectiveness has eventually been reduced to nothing. However, I suppose that I shouldn’t be too upset. This miner hog was never meant to see combat in the first place. I fly this ship precisely for that reason. No one expects anyone to take that ship into battle and come out alive. It is my job to be underestimated and ignored.
The transport crews radio that they will be ready to leave momentarily and with a nod, I give my silent thanks to the mechanic who’s repaired this battered bitch time and time again. Before the canopy even finishes rising, I’ve hopped into the cockpit and am fastening the my flightsuit’s helmet.
With the flares of ion drives lighting off, the transports move towards the atmosphere containment forcefield. A brace of Prosus assaults and a pair of Arklan guardians move to their preprogrammed launch positions and follow the transports out of the station. I’m last on the launch queue, and I can feel the electromag-cat grabbing hold of my fighter. In under two seconds, I’m traveling out of the station and I turn to put the Aerna transport in the center of my HUD.
My three squad mates and I form up on the transports as they head out of Sedina L2. We have a lot of practice escorting transports, so there is very little com chatter as we carry out our assigned duties. Due to my lack of heavy weaponry, I feel adrenaline surging through my system because I know that if an attacker decides to go after me, I have very little with which to defend myself. I take a moment to swing the hog's nose around to test its maneuverability, and with a grimace, I realize that the repair gun adds more mass than the gatling, meaning that not only am I practically helpless, but I can't even maneuver to get away from potential hostiles. The thought does not comfort me even after I get into position behind the lead convoy transport.
The nav computer silently counts down the meters until we can safely jump to the wormhole. The Cents hit their drives and jump. The transports and hogs follow several only moments later.
We enter Sedina B8 and as the residual energy of our insystem jumps radiate from our ships, we search our radars for the transports and note the odd lack of hostiles. Strange. I orient my fighter to intercept the course of the Aerna transport. Those things are the favorite targets of Itani raiders, so I know that my repair gun will most likely see action before this day is over.
There! My IFF identifies a single Itani Centurion III jumping into the sector 9 o’clock low. As predicted, he heads straight for the Aerna transport and one waiting cent and myself. The cent is much faster than this hog, but I know that I’m not his intended target. In fact, he’s probably already scanned me and has dismissed me as a non-threat. Blue gauss bolts streak over my head and towards the transport. There he is! I make visual contact with the bogey at 9 o’clock high.
I tense my arm, ready to heel over and let loose a deadly stream of gatling rounds into his paper-thin armor, but with a grimace, I remember that I removed that weapon just minutes before. The sight of his vulnerable belly sits enticingly above me, but I can do nothing. Already my partner has come around and is sitting on the attacker’s tail, laying down covering fire with his neutron blaster. With a predatory smile, I warm up the seeker heads on my Gemini missiles.
Despite that the angle between myself and the attacker is bad, I heave my ship around and let loose with a pair of gems. The sudden appearance of missiles at point blank range startles the Itani and he quickly pitches up to evade them. Big mistake. He presents the entire top of his fighter towards my partner, whose neut III cuts him to pieces.
It’s now my turn. I charge up my repair gun and give the transport a second to stabilize its course before I let loose a single blue bolt that races out and impacts on the transport’s damaged engine section. The results are immediate and unmistakable. The nanites repair all the damage to the transport, patching holes in its armor and sealing gas leaks right before my eyes.
I quickly search through my list of radar contacts, and find the slower Orion transport. It’s unscathed and is in tight formation with the second flight group.
My nav computer quietly beeps a warning that I’ve entered into the perimeter of the Sedina-Latos wormhole. As my com picks up the clutter of signals from the transports and their robotic escorts indicating that they are jumping, I doublecheck my calculations in my head and with a smile, slam through the wormhole.
Never thought of useing a R-gun like that. Good idea.