Patrol Element Delta
Summary: A Heavy Patrol Element runs into a Kilrathi Ace and his own attack force.
Date: 2657.13
Related Logs: Patrol Element Delta Aftermath

Near the tail end of the daily flight briefing, an assignment for a patrol in force in the Castor system is handed out. A trio of starfighters escorting a pair of Broadswords tasked with hitting a series of four nav-points, the middle pair of which are heavily clustered with asteroids. Atleast one light recon element encountered light Kilrathi resistance in an early patrol in both asteroid-laden locations, indicating it was a popular cargo transfer and refueling point for light Kitty ships. And, with the briefing finished, Patrol Element Delta launches from the tubes of their Bengal-class mother-ship, and begin the task of forming up.

The ships are fueled and prepped and ready to go, and Valentine is in his broadsword at the lead of the fighters. The ships launch from the Majestic, and soon a good distance of void is left behind as they head towards the Castor system. "All systems check. Report in." comes the voice of the Wing Commander as he had personally decided to conduct this sweep, having left too many patrols to go without him. Falling silent, the Lt. Colonel waits patiently, listening to those calling in.

After going through the checklist for his Stiletto and getting all greens, Kell gives the flight deck officer a thumbs up to show that he is good to go. When given the signal to launch, the nimble fighter picks up speed and slips out of the launch tube to join rest of Element Delta. The layout of this flight certainly makes sense to the young pilot, having run into a nasty Kilrathi Destroyer the other patrol. "This is Razor, all systems green, ready to go." Kell reports in over the comm system after hearing the Wing Commander requesting a check-in.

His old Scimitar moving at top cruising speed, be that what it may, Jenthson takes a double-glance at his scopes, once he's clear of the carrier. Keying his comms, the old pilot's voice comes through, loud and clear. "Pip. All green. Let's find some heavies." And, that comment was meant for exactly one person the flight, and he likely knows who he is. Damned old man and his big mouth. There is a slight pause, and he tucks his ship into formation.

Frank_King goes through his-pre flight checklist making sure everything is in order before entering the black, "Kindred to flight control, permission to launch" Frank sends out over the communication circuit. Upon receiving permission he pushes the thruster control on the limbering overweight bomber to max. Cueing up the comms for the rest of the patrol he chimes in, "This is Kindred, Lets not dent up my fat baby today escort, I still owe on the lease" he says before punching the throttle.

Koenig leans back in the seat of his Broadsword, and then keys the comms, "Broadsword Two checking in. Green across the board and ready for launch." Apparently, the new pilot has not gotten himself a callsign just yet. Nor, does he seem like the chatty type. The pilot flicks a couple of switches, looks over his shoulder and says something to his gunner, and then turns his attention back to the launch queue.

"Alright, lets keep this nice and simple, boys and gals. Tight formation, 'Swords on my wings. Jenthson. Draygo. I want you two on our flanks." This said, Valentine presses the throttle forward, launching them further through space. "Heading for Nav1." he calls over the comm system. "Over."

Nudging his flightstick slightly so Kell is able to maneuver his Stiletto to the right flank of the formation, he forms up in escort position over the slower but more powerful Broadswords. He also increases the throttle of his fighter to maintain speed with the rest of his formation, growing quiet as his eyes stay peeled on his sensors as well as giving the outside occassional visual glances in case he is able to pick anything up.

Without a verbal response, Pip's starfighter throttles down a hair, and moves in to the 3-o'clock of Koenig's formation, all-but hugging the broadsword, for the moment. It's comforting right? The older pilot does glance over toward his chosen 'Sword, and give the pilot a thumbs up, before returning his attention to searching his scopes for any sign of the enemy.

Frank_King pulls his heavy bomber along the wing of the much sleeker scimitar, keying in the commands to keep the ship in formation to the first nav poin1. Frank checks the indicators on his mass drivers, not that he would use them with the escort but you never know. His sensors give a slight beep and his warning lights come to life with the arrival of red on his radar indicator. "Colonel, I'm picking up 3…no 4 bogies on my screens, confirm?"

"I'm getting it as well. Four light fighters it looks like." Koenig replies over the comms. He had been yawning but the little red blips on his screen seem to have caught his eye enough to get his adrenaline pumping. The man sits up in his seat and calls over his shoulder, "Boegies."

And, sure enough….there are a quad-set of Sartha's inbound on Patrol Element Delta, with all four of them burning hard, and opening fire with their mass drivers almost immediately. Three of the Kats focus fire on one of the Broadswords, while a fourth, for what might seem rather inexplicable focuses on the lone Scimitar, which happens to be on the far-side of the formation. It looks like the Confederation pilots get to earn their money today.

Hands are already playing over his control panel, pulling up readouts of the ensuing areas. The sight of the four fighters inbound does not escape the Lt. Colonel's notice, and as King speaks up. "Confirmed, King." comes the the voice of the Wing Commander after Koenig's response. "We've got inbound. Prep for a skirmish. I want them disabled or destroyed within five, and us to be on our way again." Then the Sartha's are closing, and three are targetting King. "Break and engage, I repeat. Break and engage at will." Valentine calls over the comm system, his finger flicking a switch as he rolls onto his port wing before pulling up on his yolk, heading in at one of the opposing fighters (SarthaD) and loosing a heat seeker for the fighter's cockpit.

Sensors lighting up with blips, Kell takes a look at the sensor readings and chimes in over the comm system in agreement about the four light fighters, "Razor here, confirming. Looks like four Sartha class Fighters inbound, coming in hot!" Shaking himself alert, he ensures that his flight gloves are on tight before one hand grips the flightstick.

With the orders to attack, Kell breaks his Stiletto to the right and instead of going at them head-on, he dives under the incoming Kilrathi who doesn't seem to be targetting him. Jerking his stick back, he pulls his fighter up in a very tight half-loop and falls onto one of the Sartha's six, waiting for a solid tone before unleashing a Heat Seeker Missile.

And, Castor System is never particularly quiet, is it? Frethan's Scimitar is moving swiftly to engage one of the Sartha that have chosen to engage King's Broadsword, while trusting to his own flying skills, and those of his comrades to keep his own ass clear, as he throws his fighter into a tight spin to try and avoid the neutrons already spitting across the void toward his craft. A moment of consideration is given, and he's flicking his the switch on his flight-stick to arm his own heat-seaker, focusing on locking up the lead Sartha. "Pip, Tallyho!" Finger tightens, and a Heat Seeker jets free of his left wing.

The broadsword comes under massive neutron gun fire from the incoming Kilrathi fighters, "Hold your breath boys" the Lieutenant says to the petty officers manning his turrets, "Sir, did you sign up for the paint a target one me brigade?" responds the petty officer in charge. King laughs a nervous laugh, "Nothing to worry about GM2, this should…go well" he says trying to reassure his crew before attempting relatively slow evasive maneuvers.

Koenig flicks his weapons over to missiles, and calls over the com, "Broadsword Two breaking left, I've got your wing King, just keep it together and I'll pick em off." He fires off his FoF missile at one of the Kitties, and then starts to track back to his embattled flightmate.

The Sarthas do not appear to be flown by top-tier Kilrathi, do they? Though, clearly a few of them aren't scrubs. The Sartha that neatly side-slips, and blows a flare to avoid Valentine's Heat Seeker appears to be piloted by a competent soul, no doubt…as does the the final Sartha, managing to put a nice ding in Broadsword Two's armor. The attackers continue to dance with the Confed pilots, two of them focusing on the same Broadsword, while fights for a deflection shot on Kell's Stiletto in an attempt to save the Sartha-B's pilot, near to crippled as his ship seems to be. The flight lead evaporates in an orange explosion, courtesy of the Scimitar's Heat Seeker, but this far, unit cohesion for the Kilrathi seems to be holding.

All his fighters survived that initial barrage with minimal damage, and Valentine's already calling over the comm system. "Koenig, you okay?" he inquires even as he's pulling up tac data. The target he'd attempted to hit evades his missile, and the Wing Commander grits his teeth, slipping onto the tail of that particular craft. Noticing the two gearing for Koenig, he adds, "Koenig, go evasive. We'll dust them off your six." Dipping and juking along with him, he waits for the crosshairs to align before he depresses his trigger once more, loosing another heat seeker, this time aimed at SarthaD's engine. "Two away."

Watching as his heat seeker missile streak after the Sartha, Kell sees the missile impact and blow off a nice chunk off of the Kilrathi Light Fighter. Instead of breaking apart further, the Sartha seems to be limping away still in one piece. Smirking, the Stiletto presses on, doing a barrel roll so that he doesn't pass by the now slower Sartha Fighter and then switches to Mass Drivers to finish off the limping fighter. Before pressing the trigger, Razor pipes a warning through the comm system, "Koenig, you have a couple inbound, trying to smoke one off of your tail." With that, his forefinger depresses the trigger stub, sending out a stream of mass driver blasts at the Sartha Light Fighter.

"Splash one. Intercepting target designated C." These words are spoken automatically by Pip, the Reserve pilot, stepping on his port rudder, and mashing it hard, dragging his unwieldy tank of a starfighter into all-out firing pass on Sartha C, attempting to keep it off of Koenig's ass, bursts of mass driver spitting toward the light fighter's cockpit. "Watch it, Razor. You've got company trying for your six!"

Feeling lucky he wasn't hit to hard King pulls up the interior Comm system once more, "What did I say, told you I would get you through this" with a a nervous laugh he flips the switch off for the interior communication circut and focuses on the task at hand. "First waypoint and we hit up 4 fighters, mind clearing the rest of those out so maybe we can blow up a target worth somthing?"

"Where the hell'd that guy come from?" Koenig asks of his gunners, one of whom says 'port' before firing off a series of blasts that don't do any damage to the attacker that dinged up his Broadsword. Koenig flicks his coms and says, "Broadsword Two going evasive. Switching to guns." He then rolls his ship over and goes into a dive, before pulling back on the throttle and cutting left, attempting to shake one of his pursuers.

As the furball continues, Valentine attempts to roll to port, only to find his stick won't go past center. A few jolting attempts prove it is irrepairable in the middle of a dogfight, and Valentine growls. "This is Grim. My yolk's only giving me half the playing field to use. I need to bug out if I want to survive this." Rolling to starboard and coming about the long way, he adds, "Happy hunting." before heading back to base.

The furball really does not experience much change during the course of that last few seconds of combat, with the Kilrathi holding their own, despite taking some damage from the Confederation pilots, they are able to inflict their own damage on the human's second Broadsword, neutron beams once again impacting against Koenig's bomber, and his safety doesn't appear to be improve anytime soon, as none of the Sartha's change their chosen targets.

"Roger, Grim." A quick reply between grunts, as Jenthson continues to fight his inertial compensators' inability to match the more extreme maneuvers. He doesn't give any further orders, though. There really doesn't appear to be any need. They're all quite focused on surviving the fight, and nothing he can say is likely to bring it to a swifter conclusion. He does transmit…"Broadsword Two, damage report." Oh he knows exactly how focused the enemy are on his charge. Another burst of mass driver is sent toward the cockpit of Sartha-C, easy enough, since Pip has decided to force a head-on pass.

"What the heck are these Sartha's made of?" Kell mutters as he watches as his Mass Driver Cannons pepper the front of his intended target but doesn't shread the fighter to pieces. He sees the bright blue neutron blasts sailing past as he jinks his fighter, knowing that a bandit is still on his six but he is trusting his wingmen to shake them off while he focuses on getting the bogey in front of him away from the Broadsword. He continues to stick with the mass driver and fires another volley, this time aiming at the cockpit of the Kilrathi Light Fighter.

As another blast rips into his ship, Koenig starts to sweat, "Could use a little cover here guys. I'm flyin a big effin target," he says into his coms. He rolls his ship, pulls up, and then slams the throttle forward. Its not enough to get away, but it might be enough for his pursuers to fall into a nice little line for his gunners to take out.

That was more than a nice shot on the part of Kell, as the Sartha designated as B disappears in a burst of flame and debris, small bits of metal shooting off into the universe at high speed, with nothing to stop them from their infinite journey into nothingness. The last two Sartha seem to take note of their less than wonderful situation, and go into full attack mode on their chosen targets, bursts of neutron fire streaming out from the light fighters, very little effort on their part given to evading fire. The Kilrathi way, this. Die in a blazy of destructive glory.

"Nice shot, Razor." A hint of a pause, as the now nearly-suicidal Kilrath have decided to throw everyhing they have, regardless of cost at their targets. "Time to finish this, before they kill someone. Razor, we're going to play some mutual ass-wiping. Clean off Broadsword-2, and I'll take care of your six." And, that is just what Pip sets to doing, turning and burning toward Kell's Stilleto at full speed, flipping his weapons systems to Dumbfire, and waiting until the last moment. "Razor, dive. Now." Otherwise he might end up with a faceful of warhead fired off at Sartha D, which happens to be sticking nicely to the Confed Stiletto's six. Point blank, much?

Hearing the Broadsword pilot in trouble only causes Kell to focus more to blast the Kitty off of his bomber mate's tail, "Hang in there, almost have him…" He tries to reassure Koenig before slashing the Sartha, cutting it to pieces, "Got him! Going for the second one, hang tight." The feeling of elation is cut short though as Razor kicks his Stiletto in a tight scissoring maneuver to evade the neutron blasts angling in at him.
The communications from Pip is exactly what Kell had in mind as he sends a quick acknowledgement over before breaking his Fighter to the left and then back to the right to latch onto the Sartha that is attempting to dig it's claws on the Broadsword, "Switching to Heat Seeker, time to burn, furball." Flicking a switch with his thumbs, Kell waits for the solid locking tone before unleashing a Heat Seeker Missile streaming at the Kilrathi.

And, just like that. Space is clear of violence, though Frank's Broadsword is forced to return to base, thanks to another of those unspecified technical glitches. Their effective firepower has been halved. That does not bode terribly well, does it? "Alright. I want damage reports, now. Pip is clean, down to warheads." A pause as he manuevers his Scimiter onto Koenig's 'Sword's 3 O'Clockm expected Razor to take the opposite side without instruction. "If you feel you are too damaged, you are to RTB. No questions asked." And then he waits for them to make their reports, though he is heading pretty straight for Nav2, and in effect. Nav3, due to their close proximity in the asteroid field.

With the Sartha exploding brilliantly as its engines eat a Heat Seeker Missile, Kell was about to let out another whoop when he sees more neutron blasts headed his way. He tries to barrel roll and thread the needle, evading most of the volley but a couple does end up smacking into the nose of his Fighter, punching a couple of small smoking holes. With a growl, he quickly punches up the damage report on his HUD to assess the situation.
Perhaps he's riding high on the successful kills so far and the successes of the last mission, Razor reports in, "Just a couple of scratches here, still flying pretty. Proceeding to the next waypoint." The Stiletto slides up in the Nine o'Clock position of the Broadsword as the diminished flight proceeds.

"A couple of scratches here lead, but, I'm still good to go." Koenig reports as he settles his ship into position within the diminished flight. "Full torps, one FoF left," he adds.

"TCS Pe….heavy…..k." As they near their second nav-point, an urgent distress signal on all channels erupts through all three fighters' communications systems. "Say…gain….can…..ting atmo….Ral…thr…Dralthi…1..Hrsiss.."and then like magic, contacts begin to appear on the sensors between Nav2 and Nav3. Atleast two large blips, and three smaller. Flight Element Delta has found a party.

"Patrol is canceled, Delta. We've got friends in need. Looks like a damaged Drayman…and fuck us. A Fralthi." The Scimitar is throttled up, and Pip doesn't hesitate in his next order. "Engage at maximum range. "Kill that cap, Broadsword Two. Kill it dead." A deep breath, and he hits afterburners, arming a heat-seeker, and setting his sights over the nearest starfighter moving to intercept the small flight. A Dralthi. A tone sounds, and he launches. "Razor. Break and attack."

As the distress signal comes through, Kell furrows his brows as he looks down at his sensors, seeing new blips popping up at the same time. "Damn, wish we were unlucky with those mechanical failures on our wingmen." Shaking his head, the pilot steels himself for what's to come, falling back and abandoning comrades in need never entering his mind.

"Engaging as ordered." Is the acknowledgement that Razor sends to the new Patrol Leader as the pilot switches to his Mass Driver Cannons, knowing that Dralthis tend to be a little more maneuverable. He selects one at random and kicks his afterburner into full, closing the distance between himself and the Kilrathi Fighters at a very fast pace. Once he is in range, he unloads a burst of fire before going into a barrel roll to avoid any incoming damage.

"With pleasure sir." Koenig says, before turning and calling over his shoulder, "Goin in for a bombing run, keep those Dralthi off us." He then angles his ship's nose down a bit, and pushes the throttle forward. The Broadsword pushes forward, and bears down on its target, the Fralthi.

"More apes to the slaughter…." These words are spoken in computer translated, but still ominous English, translated on open channels for all to hear. "Claw, you will focus on the larger vermin. The warrior pink-skins shall be added to Count T'znar's wall of trophies." The origin of this transmission appears to be broadcast from the Hhriss that enters the fight with a rather nice bit of skill, picking out the Scimitar that so swiftly eliminated the lead Dralthi, and launching a full barrage which impacts with a flash of light damage. And, it would appear that the Capital ship responds as ordered, focusing on the TCS Pelican with it's light anti-matter batteries, and charging it at full-speed, to make things even nicer. The Dralthis continue to pick out targets, and fire, joining their noble leader in the the fighter melee.

"Oh, you fucking wanker. A Kilrathi nobleman that speaks in the third-cretin. Our bloody luck." And, for some reason, the usually polite Jenthson has turned into a profane chav of a Brit. "Pip is still a-ok. But, no more misses, Koenig. We need that cruiser dead or crippled. Do it." Jerking his flight-stick to target the incoming ace, he activates his heat seekers, and begins seeking a lock. "I hope that vaped dralthi was your littermate, you prick." Squeezing the trigger, the warhead erupts toward Count T'znar, though Frethan does not seem intent to focus on the beast, already turning toward the third Dralthi.

The barrel roll was made too early as Kell's hasty shot goes wide on his targetted Dralthi. With a frown, the Stiletto does a quick and tight half loop to bring itself back on the Dralthi's tail as it spins on it's axis, unleashing another volley at Kilrathi Light Fighter. This time, he is aiming for the engine pods of the nimble fighter, focusing more on taking the fighter out before it can get a good shot on the Scimitar. While he unleashes the viscious barrage, Razor calls out through his comm, "I got that mouthy Cat on my tail, going evasive!"

"Working on it, sir." Koenig calls over the coms, and then goes back to lighting up the interior of his Broadsword with a littany of cursing in German. He's quite proficient. He loops around slowly, and then comes in for another attack on the Fralthi, gritting his teeth and aiming as carefully as he can with flak exploding around him.

"Pel….jump…ing on it…soon" The Pelican continues to head for open space, an effort to jump the hell out of the melee, while the Confed fighters buy it some time. That's something, isn't it? But, all is not well in the melee, as Count T'znar is able to rock Kell's starfighter with a salvo from his full set of guns. One of the Dralthi's continues to take damage from the Pelican, while Jenthson's fighter shakes as an accurate shot clangs off of his hull, a foot from turning the cockpit into a crater. The Fralthi? Now that is a better story. It's Bridge is rocked by a torpedo hit, with atmosphere clearly venting, and fire sprouting from various wounded bits of capital ship. It continues after the Pelican, the command crew lost to blood-lust in their possibly last moment.

With the near-miss to his own cockpit, and his sensors telling him that Kell just took himself a massive hit, Jenthson barks into his radio…"Razor, I want you burning your ass out of the combat zone…feel free to dump a missile or two off en-route, though. No fucking need to conserve warheads, now. Use 'em if you got'em." Fighting with his wounded bird, the Lieutenant jukes hard to starboard, coming around for another pass on the Count. He is clearly the most dangerous creature on the battlefield, Light Cruiser included. "Rookie in the broadsword? You kill that Fralthi, and I'm pinning a medal on your ass myself, if I have to take it off Admiral Mallory's fucking chest. Got it?"

"Its not dead yet? I blew out its damn bridge. Goin around for another pass." Koenig says. He loops around slowly, and then settles in for another run at the heavily damaged Fralthi. The pilot calls over his shoulder, "Keep me clear this time boys, let's finish the job."

Perhaps it was fear or inexperience but Kell was unable to focus both on the Dralthi he is attacking while trying to evade the incoming Ace that had latched onto his six. "Can't shake him, still on my tail!" The pilot doesn't sound exactly panicked but there is a twinge of worry in the tone. The hurried Mass Driver attacks go wide and the last second break to the right was too slow as the full complement of guns from the Hhriss Ace smashes into the lightly armored Stiletto. It was by pure luck that the damage was focused on the Stiletto's primary weapons, causing the Mass Driver Cannons to rip apart.
"I'm hit! Mass Driver Cannons destroyed, pretty bad shape." There is a momentary pause as Kell acknowledges the orders and says, "Unloading a salvo and bugging out!" Instead of taking the easy way out and ejecting to safety or just turning tail to run, Razor tries to maintain control of the fighter.
With the damaged Stiletto under control, Kell knows that his friends are still in danger and abandoning them now will put them in even graver danger. Perhaps it is the stubborness (Quirk) that causes the Siletto pilot to suck it up and fight but he angles his fighter around and dives at the Cat that shredded his fighter, putting his targeting reticule on the Hhriss Fighter's cockpit and unleashing a Heat Seeker Missile before kicking his afterburners to full blast, picking up speed as he angles away having finished his attack run.

On the outer edges of an asteroid field, a small but bloody skirmish has been undertaken, TCS Pelican appears to be in rough shape, a Drayman that has been sending distress signals to all Confed vessels in the area. There are currently a pair of Dralthi starfighters, a very crippled Fralthi, and a Hhriss attacking what is left of a heavy patrol element. One Scimitar, a wreck of a Stiletto, and a currently exploding Broadsword.

"And, all is as it should be. Count T'znar has killed his 19th ape. Father will be pleased. Two more will follow." This is broadcast from the Hhriss, which passes through the debris cloud formed by his 'kill' though he doesn't seem to check for an escape pod, or any such. The Dralthi focus on finding their own glory, in the form of shredding either the Scimitar, or what is left of the Stiletto…and without warning the Pelican broadcasts.."umpin….4….2…1…" and with a flash, the Drayman escapes with a Jump. Without thanks. Ungrateful buggers.

"I've got something on my sensors, Razor. Unknown. IFF is down. Could be more Kats. You've done well, lad…" And with that, the Scimitar continues in its less than fruitful dogfight with the ace, which is proving rather more difficult than the other fighters he has vaped in this aborted combat patrol. "You are one dead fucking kitten, T'znar. If it isn't me, it will be another." He doesn't like losing pilots….and then back onto friendly channels.. "Broadsword Two: Do any survivors copy? Pip to Broadsword Two." Juking over -one- of the bursts of fire sent his way, he asborbs another, and skews end over end, launching his last warhead toward the heavily armored Hhriss that ends up in his sights.

The desperate gamble made by the Stiletto pilot is only partially successful as the Kilrathi Ace manages to juke at the last second so that the Heat Seeker Missile misses the cockpit, instead impaling it on the wing and exploding for some moderate damage. "This is Razor, no juice on that Hhriss, didn't nail the cockpit." Now Kell can only kick his wounded Terran Fighter to the right, then left to shake any incoming attacks before looking for another target to unload his missile on, this time picking out a Dralthi. "Atleast the Pelican made it to safety… I have your six, Pip." He does what he can do to draw some fire while focusing on erratic evasive maneuvers.

Koenig ejects, though, it seems he's unsure as to any other survivors from his ship as he calls over the comms, "Broadsword Two, EVA. No Clue about others." One of his WOs calls back, "Gunner One clear. Gunner Two bought it when that cat strafed his wing."

Paz comes into sensor range of what looks all the world like a drunken barroom brawl and immediately switches to friendly coms. "All friendlies, Tizona. I got Spaceboy and a pair of Broadswords, coming in at two-one-fiver mark one three two. Stiletto niner fiver four four A, break right, lining up a shot." she adds, switching her selector to heatseekers and fire walling the throttle. The instant the weapon's seeker head paints a good lock, she strokes the fire switch.

And, sometimes life really does emulate the movies, doesn't it? You can almost hear the swelling cresendo overlaying the epic skirmish that the fighters of the Majesty have undertaken, when a climax hits all at once. The arrival of the Minutemen, and 13th Squadron backup is all that it takes to turn the tide in the Confederation's favor. The dangerous Kilrathi ace eats a Heat Seeker, both of the remaining Dralthi are killed, one of them by the TCS Pelican as it streaks away, and most brilliantly, the Broadswords Torpedoes shred the Fralthi, ending in a brilliant explosion of light that shakes the vessels flying in the vicinity.

"Now that's a beautiful sight." Paz grins as she watches the Fralthi reduce itself to its component atoms, then blinks away the afterimages. «Good shooting, Pip.» she adds over the comms. «Razor, you good to make it back to the ship?» she asks, eyes able to perceive just enough of the extent of the damage to the Ilumminati's craft at this range to know it's serious.

"Ah…It's good to see you, Minutemen. You just saved our asses in the nick of time. You too, Black Cats." This is spoken as Pip's Scimitar finishes the aggressive manuever that takes him through the rapidly expanding shrapnel cloud that was once the Count T'znar, slightly feared Kilrathi. "Broadsword-1….begin recovery manuevers…we've got two men EVA." His starfighter throttles down to cruising speed, and zips to flank the crippled Stiletto."Diamond formation, Razor…you're sittin' in the middle, for the trip home." A final glance at his scopes, and he smiles beneath his helmet. "Pints are on me, when we land."

With the odds weighing heavily against them, Kell was about to mutter some prayers and wait for the inevitable of either ejection or going up in a bright ball of fire. When his remaining wingman notes that more enemies could be inbound, the young rookie pilot almost gives up in resignation. However, training at the Academy that was drilled into him takes over and he continues to juke and roll his Stiletto.
When the voices of friendlies fill the comm system, Kell is suddenly relieved as the cavalry actually arrived. However, the pilot continues to focus, his morale renewed as Paz brings hope in terms of reinforcements. With the Dralthi still clinging to his tail, Razor continues to twist right and left, evading most of the Mass Driver blasts converging on him, only eating a few grazing shots on the noze that burns away paint, forming scorch marks instead of holes.
"Whoop! Now that is beautiful. Yeah, Razor here, engines and navigation still operational. I can form up to head back to base." Though the stick feels extremel sluggish and the response of his once nimble Stiletto fighter is now the same as a giant space hippo, Razor starts the journey home with the others in the protective formation.

«Copy that, Razor. See you in First and Last. Tizona, out.» Paz chuckles over the comm before shutting the thing down lest she accidentally radiate the flight's position to any waiting aggressors.

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