10-29-2025, 07:51 PM
The whole ship rocked from the hits from the Wairarians weapon strikes. With sensors blinded and them being forced to remain where they were. Second place. Even when the Chief Engineer's voice sounded from the central comm speaker, with what sounded like useful suggestions, Flint could only grimace in annoyance that they were even at these sub-luminal speeds getting absolutely nowhere fast.
His blood was boiling. They had survived everything the system had thrown at them, and now this one total dickhead of a pilot was just being petty. Well, two can play at that game!
From the hours he'd racked up on flight simulators while practising small-craft racing, he knew that the flight operations of a single person jumper, a shuttle or even a light cruiser were on paper so similar that you could, in theory. Perform almost any manoeuvrer with enough open space and dumb luck.
He knew they had been pushed back a little. They therefore had the space. There had been nothing near them as such when the sensors were blinded. And he had dumb luck by the barrel full.
The Tetryon weapons hadn't done any lasting damage. And he had an inkling where the... Wairian should be in relation to where he thought he was.
His last order given to him had been to get the ship past the enemy before the finish line.
Screw. You.
Flint tapped the interface of his console. He rotated the Yeager along her centre line. All but shut down the ventral shields, and pushed as much power as he could find, leaving some of the lower decks in total darkness, into the impulse drive to claw back what they'd lost.
He could only imagine the frenzy going on down in main engineering at this move as they tried to keep giving him everything else they could find as he went as full throttle as was possible. All the while praying that they were now edging past the Wairaran. And if they were, Flint's hope was that they had a viewport he could gesticulate to that pilot as they coasted past them. Inverted.
His blood was boiling. They had survived everything the system had thrown at them, and now this one total dickhead of a pilot was just being petty. Well, two can play at that game!
From the hours he'd racked up on flight simulators while practising small-craft racing, he knew that the flight operations of a single person jumper, a shuttle or even a light cruiser were on paper so similar that you could, in theory. Perform almost any manoeuvrer with enough open space and dumb luck.
He knew they had been pushed back a little. They therefore had the space. There had been nothing near them as such when the sensors were blinded. And he had dumb luck by the barrel full.
The Tetryon weapons hadn't done any lasting damage. And he had an inkling where the... Wairian should be in relation to where he thought he was.
His last order given to him had been to get the ship past the enemy before the finish line.
Screw. You.
Flint tapped the interface of his console. He rotated the Yeager along her centre line. All but shut down the ventral shields, and pushed as much power as he could find, leaving some of the lower decks in total darkness, into the impulse drive to claw back what they'd lost.
He could only imagine the frenzy going on down in main engineering at this move as they tried to keep giving him everything else they could find as he went as full throttle as was possible. All the while praying that they were now edging past the Wairaran. And if they were, Flint's hope was that they had a viewport he could gesticulate to that pilot as they coasted past them. Inverted.