Things were not as they appeared. That much Captain Larson was sure of.
The enemy vessel was larger than his own Claymore Battleship, but it had no docking bays, a substandard acceleration rate, and only a moderate weapons layout. The only reason his Second Wave attack group hadn't caught up to the ship yet was because he had been trying to encircle the craft.
The Claymore Rocketeer had led the main charge, her sister ship Flashpoint veering away to approach at a ninety degree angle. But the target had fled from Flashpoint, unable to outrun the Second Wave warships but forcing . . .
But forcing the main charge to slow down and let Flashpoint catch up. “All ships ahead full. And open fire!” Larson wasn't going to give this thing another moment to work out whatever plan it had. His frigates had already fanned out to more adequately encapsulate the target, and now they surged forward at speeds even Rocketeer couldn't match.
And then something unbelievable happened. Huge segments of the enemy ships' outer hull―port, starboard, ventral and dorsal―rotated into the ship, replaced by dense clusters of turbolaser batteries. The resulting wall of fire dealt heavy damage to the lightly shielded and unsuspecting Longsword frigates.
Larson magnified an earlier image of the craft, tracking the lines across the vessel's hull with his eyes. “That pattern, it's not aesthetic. It's there to conceal the . . . aww, hell no!”
As his own craft passed the enemy ship's starboard surface, firing into it with its massive Particle Projector cannons, the segment which had rotated to surprise the Longswords now broke away completely, revealing its own engine assembly. The breakaway craft accelerated rapidly, soon closing on Rocketeer and opening fire on its engines.
“This can't be happening!”
But sure enough, two other sections of the alien craft had broken off, chasing after Flashpoint as she passed on her first strafing run. “Bring us about! Destroy that command ship!” But now the “command ship” was almost half its previous size, the gaping holes left by the departing craft having closed in, the whole ship reconstituting itself in a more compact form. Nevertheless, the fighters and frigates of Larson's formation complied, focusing their attention on the original target.
And then Captain Larson was met with another level of impossibility. The smaller breakaway craft had abandoned their pursuit of the Claymores, instead trying to destroy the Longsword frigates which continued to whiz by at phenomenal speeds. But then holes opened in the surface of the enemy ships, and from them swarmed squadrons of Vulture-type droid starfighters, which set upon the nearest Longswords immediately.
And as if he hadn't seen enough absurdity for one day, Captain Larson watched as sections of the main target's hull slid inward, replaced immediately by other “panels,” panels covered with anti-fighter weaponry.
And then the reports started coming in:
“Sir, the Longsword, Emancipator is reporting shield failure.
“Sir, Flashpoint is requesting assistance; it's taking heavy torpedo fire from one of the secondary targets.”
“Sir, the Longsword frigate Judicious . . .”
“Yes, yes,” He muttered in disappointment, hoping they would stop. But they didn't.
The enemy vessel was larger than his own Claymore Battleship, but it had no docking bays, a substandard acceleration rate, and only a moderate weapons layout. The only reason his Second Wave attack group hadn't caught up to the ship yet was because he had been trying to encircle the craft.
The Claymore Rocketeer had led the main charge, her sister ship Flashpoint veering away to approach at a ninety degree angle. But the target had fled from Flashpoint, unable to outrun the Second Wave warships but forcing . . .
But forcing the main charge to slow down and let Flashpoint catch up. “All ships ahead full. And open fire!” Larson wasn't going to give this thing another moment to work out whatever plan it had. His frigates had already fanned out to more adequately encapsulate the target, and now they surged forward at speeds even Rocketeer couldn't match.
And then something unbelievable happened. Huge segments of the enemy ships' outer hull―port, starboard, ventral and dorsal―rotated into the ship, replaced by dense clusters of turbolaser batteries. The resulting wall of fire dealt heavy damage to the lightly shielded and unsuspecting Longsword frigates.
Larson magnified an earlier image of the craft, tracking the lines across the vessel's hull with his eyes. “That pattern, it's not aesthetic. It's there to conceal the . . . aww, hell no!”
As his own craft passed the enemy ship's starboard surface, firing into it with its massive Particle Projector cannons, the segment which had rotated to surprise the Longswords now broke away completely, revealing its own engine assembly. The breakaway craft accelerated rapidly, soon closing on Rocketeer and opening fire on its engines.
“This can't be happening!”
But sure enough, two other sections of the alien craft had broken off, chasing after Flashpoint as she passed on her first strafing run. “Bring us about! Destroy that command ship!” But now the “command ship” was almost half its previous size, the gaping holes left by the departing craft having closed in, the whole ship reconstituting itself in a more compact form. Nevertheless, the fighters and frigates of Larson's formation complied, focusing their attention on the original target.
And then Captain Larson was met with another level of impossibility. The smaller breakaway craft had abandoned their pursuit of the Claymores, instead trying to destroy the Longsword frigates which continued to whiz by at phenomenal speeds. But then holes opened in the surface of the enemy ships, and from them swarmed squadrons of Vulture-type droid starfighters, which set upon the nearest Longswords immediately.
And as if he hadn't seen enough absurdity for one day, Captain Larson watched as sections of the main target's hull slid inward, replaced immediately by other “panels,” panels covered with anti-fighter weaponry.
And then the reports started coming in:
“Sir, the Longsword, Emancipator is reporting shield failure.
“Sir, Flashpoint is requesting assistance; it's taking heavy torpedo fire from one of the secondary targets.”
“Sir, the Longsword frigate Judicious . . .”
“Yes, yes,” He muttered in disappointment, hoping they would stop. But they didn't.