Longsword Squadron Zulu by LongswordPilotMan
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Longsword Squadron Zulu: One way to say yo daddy
Date: 25 May 2004, 12:24 AM
The stars glared outside the side windows. The Longsword formation moving through space on inertia only, their engines cold and off.
"So two." Commander Richard Frazen, also known as Zulu one, called through his com. "Any word from the Missis?"
"Just that the baby's due in about a week." Lt. James Peterson replied.
"Boy or Girl?" Lt. Julia Tachren asked over the squadron channel.
"A little girl." Patterson returned. "And here I am, stuck in the hell of black space."
The squadron zipped along as they closed on their return waypoint. The black fighters looked like a bulky version of the antique B-2 stealth bombers. A long verticaly positioned dimond made up the tail.
In the cockpit of Zulu three, a board beeped.
"Lead, I have slipspace data running crazy over my sensors." Three called. "Any fleet movements in this area?"
"Not that I know of three."
"Damn." Tachren swore. "Slipspace entry reported in sector 9-28. Covie cruisers."
"Alright people, lock and load. Let dust the moon with covie atoms."
Fire ripped out of the twleve fighters engines. The ships spun about and rocketed towards sector 9-28.
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"Pull up!" Lt. Johansen yelled.
Up was relative to the ships position in space.
"Shut up, RIO!" Lt. Tachren screamed back.
The Longsword bucked as another plasma blast slammed into the hull.
"Starboard fuel tanks damaged, pumping fuel to portside emergency tanks." Hissing behind the cockpit accompanied the tapping done by the RIO seated next to Tachren in Zulu 8.
A single Tracer round leapt from the rear 50mm machine gun, then the gun went dead. The weapon panel showed the weapon to have over 300 rounds of ammo left.
"Son of a bitch jammed!" Johansen cried.
Tachren didn't even bother to answer as she threw her ship into a steep roll, twisting through vacuum in a vain attempt to evade her pursuer.
"Break left on my mark eight!" Zulu two's voice came over the com. "3..2..1..MARK!"
Tachren jerked the yoke to port and the fighter corkscrewed to the left. A missile jetted out from Zulu two's launch tube, tracking the Covenant Banshee following Tachrens fighter. A fireball in Tachrens rear scopes desolved into space dust, showering her fighter with debris.
"Thanks, two."
"No prob, eight."
Peterson swooped his Longsword onto the tail of another Banshee. The Longswords bulk made them hell to fly in atmosphere, but in space, with no gravity to pull at them, the ships twirled and spun as though they were feathers in the wind.
A loud, BANG!, and a vibration in the stick caused Peterson to glance at his damage assessment board. A large section of his diagnostic screen glared red. He looked behind him and was shocked to see stars. The entire tail had been ripped open.
UNSC starfighter uniforms included a full face helmet for ejecting in space, and a small air tank for EV survival. Peterson checked the seal on his helmet before glanceing over to the RIO station. Lt. Sarah Jackson was slumped over her controls, which were smoldering heavily, showing why she was like that.
"Fuck." Peterson said to no-one in particular. Peterson tried to pull the fighter into position to dock with UNSC Radient, a Carrier assigned to Zulu, Bravo, Sierra, and Romeo squadrons. The Longword turned halfway towards the ship when a large explsion sent a wave of red lights flaring across his control board. Maneuvering jets, out. Engines, out. Lifesupport, out.
"Dammit!!" Peterson yelled. He reached over and released his RIO's safety straps. She floated up, and he pressed her to his chest. He reached down between his legs and grabbed the little yellow handle. A flash of light glared over head, the explosive bolts launching the hull panel off the fighter. The seat rammed into his butt as the rocket booster launched the command couch free of the ship.
"Luminara 6-3 alpha. Zulu eight free." He managed to grit out. A com officer on UNSC Radient caught the short message.
The officer immediately placed a call to the docking bay. A minute later, a DC77-TC Pelican zoomed out of the bay and swung around to the Ejector seats recovery beacon. A magnet powered up, and the seat was dragged into the passenger bay. The starfighter uniforms weren't heated, and Peterson was badly hypothermic by the time they reached Radients hanger bay. Jacksons corpse was immediately placed in Cryo B, the freezing process perfect for preserving bodies. Peterson was taken to the Medical Ward.
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This story is part one of a (hopefully) 4-part series. Zulu Squadron is a special forces unit in the United Nation Space Command. Kinda like the Navy Air Force. Longswords rule. If anyone knows of any other spacefighters used by the UNSC, please inform me in the posts. Thanks.
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