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The sky was easily ripped in two, like tissue paper from an object carrying a velocity of sixty M.P.S.
Trick thought a command to the Fig’s main AI and the shields of a Lancasted VIII Heavy Fighter weighing in at a grand total of 160 tons charged and an invisible barrier formed around its host. His next thoughts commenced and in his mind there formed various battle tactics, trajectory courses and the usual imagery of massive scale combat between the most destructive forces ever yielded.
Arrays of holographic controls, schematics of his Fig’s read outs and physical flight controls mechanisms lay before his hands. He worked magic across the holos as a pianist did while playing in a symphony. He gathered information of where he was headed, listened to different recordings broadcasted from the hell zone at an accelerated bit rate, and watched with illumination in his eyes live video feeds of exactly he what he was preparing himself for.
Pulling the Fig nose up, it blew through the atmosphere of Epose, the third planet outward in this relatively small system, within a second. Trick watched the digital readout from the tachometer. Without the pull of gravity, the Fig accelerated to a hundred fifty, hundred sixty, and peaked out at a constant velocity of a hundred and seventy eight. From there it fluctuated up and down slightly as the pull of gravity from the star fueling the system and the planetary body he just left, started to take effect.
With the sudden acceleration also came the living evidence of the shields as they lit alive with a hue of light blue and dark purple lightening streaks, as space debris the size of pebbles dissolved into them. At the peak of a streak, ripples were seen that cascaded outward and then faded all together. With the fireworks being displayed around the ship only three feet away from any point of itself, the shield pattern was evident and the obviously meshed structural shape of the ship became appearent.
The technological marvel of shields that was curiously discovered by the enemy gave a break through in travel. Without them, anything traveling more than fifty M.P.S would be shredded from the small particles of space moving at who knows what godly speed.
Trick positioned himself more comfortably and prepared for the facelift that was about to be given. He pulled on the straps leading to his harness. Then reached up and flipped a switch which activated the fuel rod fluid to be fed to the fusion engines. He thought another command to the AI, and the displays in front of him vanished along with the videos and recordings being played through his mind.
He swore at the loss of the only Assault Ship, which happened only about five minutes ago. Not only did its shockwave kill tens of thousands, but its downfall also gave away his ships ability to ripchord into the area. Instead, he now found himself preparing for a static burn across part of the system, which he has only done twice in his career so far. From experience he already knew they were a hellish ride with a major ego boost to finish it off.
He curled his hands around both of the yokes and inched a finger upward on the left joy, and hesitantly laid it on top the circular red button. He pressed down slightly and felt the smooth click.
Instantly, he was pressed against the pilot seat. The tachometer raced as the numbers in the first digits place repeated every split second. The beginning of G’s were pulled and experienced at the five hundred-barrier mark with the fighter still increasing its velocity. Six hundred. Seven hundred. Trick fought in vain as his weight increased rapidly with twenty-one G’s. He swore at the atmosphere stabilizer for not with standing such a force.
The nose of the fig was lit with intense violet hued energy. The shields were being pounded by the particles in space and the little fireworks display that was before, now turned into a ravage storm.
The tachometer read at nine hundred and was still increasing dramatically as very little time passed. Twenty-eight G’s were reached and Trick’s mind struggled to keep conscious. His entire body was numb, as nerve signals froze en route from mind to physical being due to the added pressure. The CL’s were trying desperately to maintain their focus. Another second ticked and he lost consciousness right after peaking at the tachometer, which read one thousand and fifty six.
***
156 mm rounds tore across space, shields flared and faded, energy rounds dissipating, missiles streaking, debris over cluttering, high end projectiles ejecting from massive capital ships ranging anywhere from two miles to over fifteen miles, over encumbering radio chatter, and an unbelievable display of shear power and the pinnacle of intelligence filled the sector marked as, Xolop.
Xolop was a territorial region wanting to be gained by all sides. It had large quantities of resources within its limits, from solid mass, to the precious space gases needed to combust the beginning of shield generation. It held a total of three rather small worlds, each holding large amounts of liquid hydrogen being boiled at the fusion temperature, a very valuable asset indeed. Along with it, came remarkable communication distance, as the super nova giant nicked, Solaris, was able to act as an extra large communication dish. It was like attaching an over large radio dish, with a diameter of thirty feet, to a mobile device that was able to fit in one’s pocket. Not only does this dish have the ability to transmit, but it also can receive vast generic wavelengths, ripchord telecommunications, and maybe even pick up some “unusual activity.”
“The second wave of ST’s are loaded out and ready to fly Com.”
“Good.” Commander Luterson responded coolly. He stood full fashion in a commander stance while looking at tactical information from holographic images. He had a rigid face with a perfectly straight nose. His dark blue eyes swayed from one image to another. He was buckled down from head to toe in uniform. Medals of all sorts covered his left and right chest. Some were given out of rank, but most were earned for strategy saving coordination that saved millions in lives, or money. He wore his cap so the crest was slightly to the left and tilted downward just enough to give him an expression that taunted others. He only did this in the heat of battle.
Smirking, he gave an order. “Heather, change of plans. It seems they have left a major portion of the field open. We are going to take this bad planning to full advantage.” Luterson thought a command and the all the holo’s in the room being circled around instantly flew into one big image that took place in the center of the bridge. The one rather over whelming holographic image displayed a trajectory course and plotted a waypoint. “Tell the ST’s to form and wait at this point. Further instructions within two minutes tops of their arrival time will be given.” Quickly, he then added, “The stupid bitches won’t even know what hit them.”
“They have the go and are lifting now. ETA about ten minutes. Sorry for the delay, but to get their undetected they are going to have to work some magic.”
Luterson didn’t respond. Ten minutes was hellish quick compared to what he could probably accomplish. He was grateful of his Pilots.
***
End.
Dunno where to go from here. Any Ideas? Also...this stupid forum engine doesn't show indents...what crap. I'm sueing
Trick thought a command to the Fig’s main AI and the shields of a Lancasted VIII Heavy Fighter weighing in at a grand total of 160 tons charged and an invisible barrier formed around its host. His next thoughts commenced and in his mind there formed various battle tactics, trajectory courses and the usual imagery of massive scale combat between the most destructive forces ever yielded.
Arrays of holographic controls, schematics of his Fig’s read outs and physical flight controls mechanisms lay before his hands. He worked magic across the holos as a pianist did while playing in a symphony. He gathered information of where he was headed, listened to different recordings broadcasted from the hell zone at an accelerated bit rate, and watched with illumination in his eyes live video feeds of exactly he what he was preparing himself for.
Pulling the Fig nose up, it blew through the atmosphere of Epose, the third planet outward in this relatively small system, within a second. Trick watched the digital readout from the tachometer. Without the pull of gravity, the Fig accelerated to a hundred fifty, hundred sixty, and peaked out at a constant velocity of a hundred and seventy eight. From there it fluctuated up and down slightly as the pull of gravity from the star fueling the system and the planetary body he just left, started to take effect.
With the sudden acceleration also came the living evidence of the shields as they lit alive with a hue of light blue and dark purple lightening streaks, as space debris the size of pebbles dissolved into them. At the peak of a streak, ripples were seen that cascaded outward and then faded all together. With the fireworks being displayed around the ship only three feet away from any point of itself, the shield pattern was evident and the obviously meshed structural shape of the ship became appearent.
The technological marvel of shields that was curiously discovered by the enemy gave a break through in travel. Without them, anything traveling more than fifty M.P.S would be shredded from the small particles of space moving at who knows what godly speed.
Trick positioned himself more comfortably and prepared for the facelift that was about to be given. He pulled on the straps leading to his harness. Then reached up and flipped a switch which activated the fuel rod fluid to be fed to the fusion engines. He thought another command to the AI, and the displays in front of him vanished along with the videos and recordings being played through his mind.
He swore at the loss of the only Assault Ship, which happened only about five minutes ago. Not only did its shockwave kill tens of thousands, but its downfall also gave away his ships ability to ripchord into the area. Instead, he now found himself preparing for a static burn across part of the system, which he has only done twice in his career so far. From experience he already knew they were a hellish ride with a major ego boost to finish it off.
He curled his hands around both of the yokes and inched a finger upward on the left joy, and hesitantly laid it on top the circular red button. He pressed down slightly and felt the smooth click.
Instantly, he was pressed against the pilot seat. The tachometer raced as the numbers in the first digits place repeated every split second. The beginning of G’s were pulled and experienced at the five hundred-barrier mark with the fighter still increasing its velocity. Six hundred. Seven hundred. Trick fought in vain as his weight increased rapidly with twenty-one G’s. He swore at the atmosphere stabilizer for not with standing such a force.
The nose of the fig was lit with intense violet hued energy. The shields were being pounded by the particles in space and the little fireworks display that was before, now turned into a ravage storm.
The tachometer read at nine hundred and was still increasing dramatically as very little time passed. Twenty-eight G’s were reached and Trick’s mind struggled to keep conscious. His entire body was numb, as nerve signals froze en route from mind to physical being due to the added pressure. The CL’s were trying desperately to maintain their focus. Another second ticked and he lost consciousness right after peaking at the tachometer, which read one thousand and fifty six.
***
156 mm rounds tore across space, shields flared and faded, energy rounds dissipating, missiles streaking, debris over cluttering, high end projectiles ejecting from massive capital ships ranging anywhere from two miles to over fifteen miles, over encumbering radio chatter, and an unbelievable display of shear power and the pinnacle of intelligence filled the sector marked as, Xolop.
Xolop was a territorial region wanting to be gained by all sides. It had large quantities of resources within its limits, from solid mass, to the precious space gases needed to combust the beginning of shield generation. It held a total of three rather small worlds, each holding large amounts of liquid hydrogen being boiled at the fusion temperature, a very valuable asset indeed. Along with it, came remarkable communication distance, as the super nova giant nicked, Solaris, was able to act as an extra large communication dish. It was like attaching an over large radio dish, with a diameter of thirty feet, to a mobile device that was able to fit in one’s pocket. Not only does this dish have the ability to transmit, but it also can receive vast generic wavelengths, ripchord telecommunications, and maybe even pick up some “unusual activity.”
“The second wave of ST’s are loaded out and ready to fly Com.”
“Good.” Commander Luterson responded coolly. He stood full fashion in a commander stance while looking at tactical information from holographic images. He had a rigid face with a perfectly straight nose. His dark blue eyes swayed from one image to another. He was buckled down from head to toe in uniform. Medals of all sorts covered his left and right chest. Some were given out of rank, but most were earned for strategy saving coordination that saved millions in lives, or money. He wore his cap so the crest was slightly to the left and tilted downward just enough to give him an expression that taunted others. He only did this in the heat of battle.
Smirking, he gave an order. “Heather, change of plans. It seems they have left a major portion of the field open. We are going to take this bad planning to full advantage.” Luterson thought a command and the all the holo’s in the room being circled around instantly flew into one big image that took place in the center of the bridge. The one rather over whelming holographic image displayed a trajectory course and plotted a waypoint. “Tell the ST’s to form and wait at this point. Further instructions within two minutes tops of their arrival time will be given.” Quickly, he then added, “The stupid bitches won’t even know what hit them.”
“They have the go and are lifting now. ETA about ten minutes. Sorry for the delay, but to get their undetected they are going to have to work some magic.”
Luterson didn’t respond. Ten minutes was hellish quick compared to what he could probably accomplish. He was grateful of his Pilots.
***
End.
Dunno where to go from here. Any Ideas? Also...this stupid forum engine doesn't show indents...what crap. I'm sueing
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