star seeker 00
*spammity* :3 ...because I put my personal journal on hiatus due to exams. xD; A move that has backfired somewhat.
snowqueenofhoth, it's just a prologue and not long at all. D: Sorry. 8D But half the next part's done; I just can't write Fujigaya to save myself, argh. xD;; So in the meantime, this behemoth of unbeta'd doom continues to expand. In the other direction.
[ starseeker 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 ]
... T_T Action scene, time 00:00. *attempt* Setting: the battle where everybody died it all started.
The initial wave of head-to-heads took out one of their number; by the third run, Sennen was down by two, the survivors linking up. Formations dissolved into pair-on-pair dogfights from there.
Not so far in, Fujigaya lead the fight with three kills to his name, flying with typical aggression and letting nothing slide. The Iida-Yokoo pair systematically switched back and forth like a well-oiled machine, picking off targets with dogged precision.
Flight Officer Senga Kento meanwhile, had managed to graze a flight's worth of enemy starfighters in what his Nagoya Academy Commander liked to call sheer dumb luck. He could be forgiven for being so green he glowed like algae -- this was his first engagement. A pilot built up his sixth sense and situational awareness through experience.
Kitayama finished the wounded fighters off in Senga's wake anyway, playing a dutiful wingman. Four kills between them averaged out to two apiece, but nothing surgical or even vaguely economical.
"That one scored closer to the fuselage," Kitayama teased, looping around to get back to where Senga had wandered off after one such clean-up, getting back on his wing.
"I'll definitely get this next one!" Senga laughed, banking onto the tail of an enemy pair--
Right into the path of a third hostile.
Shit-- "Break, Senga!" Kitayama shouted, stomach lead. "Starboard!"
The Exeunt banked immediately, a hard right away from the main dogfight -- too late. Through the comm chatter, Kitayama heard the distinct, tinny screech of a HUD lock from his wingmate's cockpit, and Senga's hitched breath, "Oh no-- oh no--" as he twisted his snubfighter through half an evasive corkscrew that wasn't going to cut it. Two proton torpedoes launched onto his tail.
"Hard to port!" Kitayama ordered. Senga obeyed, shoving his flightstick left, hauling back.
Kitayama stepped in quick. Sideslipping with the rudder, he cut his fighter a tighter circle across Senga's wake, into the missiles' path. His own warning klaxons blared to life as the two weapons' primitive systems acquired a new heat signature. His ship. Good. "Out of here, Senga."
"But Captain--!"
"I need space. Get away." The detonation, if there was to be one, wasn't going to be compact or pretty.
The missiles closed fast. As his proximity alarms reached a near-deafening wail, Kitayama pulled his flightstick back, feeling the G-forces of the hairpin inversion press upon him. Faster and too close for a course correction, the pair of torpedoes overshot his fighter in a near miss, arching around in a large loop as they reacquired their target.
Kitayama stood on his left rudder pedal; a quick burst from the same-side reverse thrusters swung his snubfighter around 180° almost instantly.
Head-to-head with the missiles now, his proximity gauge shedding kliks like heat on Hoth, he stalled his engines, throwing all discretionary power to his forward shields, thumb jammed down on the firing stud. The Chikara cycled its lasers single-fire converging at two hundred metres and one torp detonated amid the blood-red lightshow. But wasn't enough.
The second missile washed roiling fire against his shields. His fighter rocked under the impact, cockpit filling with sparks and smoke and doomsday diagnostics. Kitayama glanced from screen to screen. Shield overload, engine damage, hull integrity breach... Bad, but survivable. Letting out a half-held breath, he moved to silence the shrieking alarms around him.
"...Hiromii, are you okay?" Senga's voice came across the comm, small and worried.
Kitayama smiled. "I--"
"Lead: port roll now!"
Kitayama responded to Fujigaya's call without thought. He threw his flightstick left, but the Chikara was sluggish. Laserfire tore through his right fuselage, and the concussing force of a close-range reactor explosion was the last thing he felt.
snowqueenofhoth, it's just a prologue and not long at all. D: Sorry. 8D But half the next part's done; I just can't write Fujigaya to save myself, argh. xD;; So in the meantime, this behemoth of unbeta'd doom continues to expand. In the other direction.
[ starseeker 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 ]
... T_T Action scene, time 00:00. *attempt* Setting: the battle where everybody died it all started.
The initial wave of head-to-heads took out one of their number; by the third run, Sennen was down by two, the survivors linking up. Formations dissolved into pair-on-pair dogfights from there.
Not so far in, Fujigaya lead the fight with three kills to his name, flying with typical aggression and letting nothing slide. The Iida-Yokoo pair systematically switched back and forth like a well-oiled machine, picking off targets with dogged precision.
Flight Officer Senga Kento meanwhile, had managed to graze a flight's worth of enemy starfighters in what his Nagoya Academy Commander liked to call sheer dumb luck. He could be forgiven for being so green he glowed like algae -- this was his first engagement. A pilot built up his sixth sense and situational awareness through experience.
Kitayama finished the wounded fighters off in Senga's wake anyway, playing a dutiful wingman. Four kills between them averaged out to two apiece, but nothing surgical or even vaguely economical.
"That one scored closer to the fuselage," Kitayama teased, looping around to get back to where Senga had wandered off after one such clean-up, getting back on his wing.
"I'll definitely get this next one!" Senga laughed, banking onto the tail of an enemy pair--
Right into the path of a third hostile.
Shit-- "Break, Senga!" Kitayama shouted, stomach lead. "Starboard!"
The Exeunt banked immediately, a hard right away from the main dogfight -- too late. Through the comm chatter, Kitayama heard the distinct, tinny screech of a HUD lock from his wingmate's cockpit, and Senga's hitched breath, "Oh no-- oh no--" as he twisted his snubfighter through half an evasive corkscrew that wasn't going to cut it. Two proton torpedoes launched onto his tail.
"Hard to port!" Kitayama ordered. Senga obeyed, shoving his flightstick left, hauling back.
Kitayama stepped in quick. Sideslipping with the rudder, he cut his fighter a tighter circle across Senga's wake, into the missiles' path. His own warning klaxons blared to life as the two weapons' primitive systems acquired a new heat signature. His ship. Good. "Out of here, Senga."
"But Captain--!"
"I need space. Get away." The detonation, if there was to be one, wasn't going to be compact or pretty.
The missiles closed fast. As his proximity alarms reached a near-deafening wail, Kitayama pulled his flightstick back, feeling the G-forces of the hairpin inversion press upon him. Faster and too close for a course correction, the pair of torpedoes overshot his fighter in a near miss, arching around in a large loop as they reacquired their target.
Kitayama stood on his left rudder pedal; a quick burst from the same-side reverse thrusters swung his snubfighter around 180° almost instantly.
Head-to-head with the missiles now, his proximity gauge shedding kliks like heat on Hoth, he stalled his engines, throwing all discretionary power to his forward shields, thumb jammed down on the firing stud. The Chikara cycled its lasers single-fire converging at two hundred metres and one torp detonated amid the blood-red lightshow. But wasn't enough.
The second missile washed roiling fire against his shields. His fighter rocked under the impact, cockpit filling with sparks and smoke and doomsday diagnostics. Kitayama glanced from screen to screen. Shield overload, engine damage, hull integrity breach... Bad, but survivable. Letting out a half-held breath, he moved to silence the shrieking alarms around him.
"...Hiromii, are you okay?" Senga's voice came across the comm, small and worried.
Kitayama smiled. "I--"
"Lead: port roll now!"
Kitayama responded to Fujigaya's call without thought. He threw his flightstick left, but the Chikara was sluggish. Laserfire tore through his right fuselage, and the concussing force of a close-range reactor explosion was the last thing he felt.