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In Defense of Cairo Station
Posted By: pistolchimp<mechpilot123@hotmail.com>
Date: 30 September 2005, 10:03 am
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This is my fan fiction about a Longsword pilot and his flight. Sorry about the names, I suck at that! Anyway, enjoy!
"Three kings"
"Two sevens"
"Two nines"
"Full house"
"Aw shit Nick, you cleaned us out again! Fuck me!"
Crossfire (or Nick Mace) counted his winnings with a smile on his face; a hotshot 28 year-old, with thirst for adventure that shone in his blue eyes. Posted up to Cairo station a month ago with his co-pilot Witchdoctor (Dave Brevner), he was an ace pilot with eight Seraphs to his credit. His wingman Hellhound(Andrew Fraser) and his nav Switchblade (Josh Stevens) sat across the table from him, bemoaning the loss of their month's pay. Witchdoctor glared at him, obviously pissed. Nick sighed.
"Quit whining dammit, I'll shout tonight!"
He got up and looked out the five-inch thick window towards the Malta MAC platform.
"How 'bout we take a shuttle out to Malta and go see some of those nurses, huh? Softest beds in the fleet..."
Switchblade brightened visibly, and even Hellhound cracked a grin.
"Yeah, I wonder if Janessa's up for some...!"
They all pressed their faces against the glass like kids, watching the hive of activity around the huge MAC platform. Shuttles, frigates and capital ships glided past in the vacuum.
"Hey guys, that's the In Amber Clad!"
Witchdoctor pointed out the window towards the docking bay.
"I hear Miranda Keyes is a pretty hot piece!"
Switchblade jabbed him in the ribs.
"Dream on! Your eyes always were bigger than your cock!"
"Fuck off!"
"Hey, what the fuck!" Crossfire's eyes widened.
"Slipspace ruptures! Shit, look! LOOK!"
The cafeteria filled with the sound of overturning tables and chairs as everyone rushed for the nearest window.
The space out side was punctured by hundreds of slipspace ruptures. Covenant ships thundered towards them, spitting streams of blue plasma and purple plasma torpedoes. Alarms touched off throughout the station, and the lights dimmed as power was routed to the massive Super-MAC. A voice blared over the PA.
"Scramble! Scramble! All pilots and maintenance personnel please report to fighter bays A to B and prepare for launch!"
Crossfire, Witchdoctor, Hellhound and Switchblade dashed down the corridor, the other pilots close behind. Witchdoctor punched the door panel and they surged into the Longsword bay. Fuel carts and ammo trollies were already being rolled up under the wings. Crossfire and Witchdoctor ran up the ramp of their Longsword, strapped in and fired up the electronics. The twin engines screeched into life, and the Longsword rumbled under him like a caged dog. Crossfire looked over at Hellhound's Longsword next to them
"Ready to break out the whoop-ass?"
"You know it"
Alarms blared through the bay and maintenance crew scattered as the massive doors opened, depressurizing the hangar.
"Mission Control, Mission Control, this is Longsword XR 667 and XR 669, requesting permission to launch"
"Green light; Green light for launch and engage, XR 667 and XR 669, good luck and good hunting"
Crossfire looked over at Witchdoctor.
"All systems hot?"
"Yup. Cannons, Shivas and AGSMs online. Punch it"
Crossfire shoved the throttles forward, and the two Longswords surged out of the bay, gear folding away beneath them.
Charging towards the battle, Crossfire and Hellhound scanned for targets.
"Im picking up capital ships, fighters, frigates, cruisers, everything. The Covvies must be real pissed!"
"There's a cell of 3 Seraphs at one o'clock high attacking that cruiser. Let's engage."
They peeled off towards them, arming their AGSM-10 missiles.
"They don't know we're here."
Witchdoctor selected the attacking Seraph, listening for the locking tone in his headset. There it was, loud and clear. He pulled the trigger, and the AGSM dropped off the rail, curving away towards the enemy. The Seraph's sensors didn't pick up the radar signal until it was too late. The missile slammed into the fighter's belly, and it imploded instantly. The other Seraphs, suddenly aware of the danger, activated their jammers and twisted violently away from the marauding Longswords. But their jammers couldn't foil their rotary cannons. Hellhound's guns blazed, chewing purple chunks out of a Seraph's tail. The pilot jinked left and right to evade him, but it wasn't enough, and the second fighter vented its atmosphere in a cloud of oxygen. But the last one was smarter, flinging itself all around the sky and into the safety of a group of Covenant frigates. Hellhound began to peel away, and realised Crossfire was still going in!
"Get out of there Crossfire! That's suicide!"
"Don't piss yourself mumsy, he won't get away"
"Fucking hell"
Crossfire gave chase, punching the afterburners 'through the gate' and throwing the Longsword through a crazy blur of stars, metal and plasma. The interceptor bucked as a plasma blast hit, but the titanium-A plating dissipated the blast. They soared out from the formation, the Seraph still in front of him. His cannons flamed, but his enemy rolled deftly out of the way. A massive blast detonated off his starboard side, nearly blinding him, as the Malta exploded.
"Shit, I won't be getting laid tonight"
The Seraph banked hard and soared around to port in an attempt to get on his tail.
"Witch, arm a missile. When I come out of this Immelman, lock on and let it fly, OK?"
"OK"
Crossfire pulled hard on the stick, bringing the interceptor over in a huge loop. Slamming it over to the right brought the fighter upright again. The two opponents barrelled towards each other, cannons flaming. The Elite was so filled with bloodlust for his dead brothers that he failed to see the Longsword launch a missile at him at almost point blank range.
"Shit, I finally found you Crossfire! Where the fuck have you been!"
"Good to see you didn't get your arse toasted by some Covvie flyboy!"
"Like that would ever happen, dickhead!"
'Two more Seraphs, approaching from eight o'clock level!"
"Looks like they're heading for Cairo! Take 'em out!"
Hellhound punched his afterburners and soared after the attacking Seraphs.
"Switchblade! Toast him!"
Another AGSM-10 blasted off the rail and locked on to the Seraph, who switched on his jammers immediately. The missile went berserk and spun out of control.
"Shit, this guy's good. Select guns and box him in, OK?"
"I'm on it"
Their cannons flamed. The fighter banked out of the hail of fire, only to be shredded by Hellhound's bullets. The Seraph disintegrated and spun away underneath them.
"Get the other! He's launching torpedoes!"
Two torpedoes arrowed towards Cairo. The Seraph pilot was about to launch more, but a cannon burst on his hull made him think twice. He swung away past an airlock and switched off his radar so he could engage his jammers: the torpedoes self-destructing after loosing their guidance.
"Mission Control to XR 667, Mission Control to XR 667, please respond"
"XR 667 responding"
"SPARTAN John -117 is making a controlled descent from Cairo with an antimatter bomb. We need you do make an access point to this ship's reactor, the impact point is on your HUD. Green light, I repeat, green light to launch SHIVA nuclear devices at your discretion. Squawking authorisation code 3492902. Mission Control, out."
"Shit Hellhound, did you get that?"
"Man, what's ole' Master Chief been smoking now?"
"Look, there he is!"
Through Crossfire's rearward camera he could see a tiny green figure hurtling towards them, clutching a massive, spiked bomb.
"OK Hellhound, let's make the man a door! Use both SHIVAs, we want to do this right!"
"OK Crossfire, let's do it!"
Both Longswords punched afterburner, screaming down towards the capital ship through a maelstrom of superheated plasma. Switchblade and Witchdoctor programmed the target coordiates into the SHIVAs targeting computer.
"Missiles targeted?"
"Yep. SHIVAS online."
"Launch...NOW!
The four SHIVA missiles dropped free, performed a test of their control surfaces, checked their guidance and ignited their powerful SCRAM-jets. Soaring towards their targets, the four missiles exploded squarely on target. The capital ship's shields already failed, the SHIVA s left a gaping hole in the sleek hull. The two Longswords throttled back and peeled away, dodging frenzied plasma fire
"Alright Master Chief, let's see you do your stuff!"
The tiny figure disappeared through the hole, bomb still in hand.
"C'mon, where is he?"
"Don't worry, he'll make it!"
"There!"
The tiny figure appeared once more, plummeting out of the ship's hull. A huge blue plasma ball exploded out of the ruined hull, nearly blinding them. Frantically rubbing his eyes, Crossfire searched for the falling figure, finding him just in time to see him land on top of the In Amber Clad. He suddenly felt strangely tired, but still glad the Chief hadn't turned into a meteorite.
"Crossfire, I'm nearly bingo fuel, heading back to Cairo."
"OK Hellhound. Let's go home..."
The two lone Longswords, blackened and scorched, turned and rocketed away towards Cairo Station.
timthesoulmantaylor
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