- OOC:
- Because I don’t want to attempt and write a dogfight that actually obeys physics in space…I’m not going to. For the record, “up” and “down”, “left” and “right” refers to the relative plane of whatever imaginary solar system this fight takes place in.
“Look alive, jock,” the simulation controller intoned lightly. “Sim is live and you’re green across the board. Good hunting.”
“Roger that control,” Titus “Slammer” Green responded, his own voice light with laughter. “Slammer is live and ready to jive. See you folks on the other side.”
Still grinning, Slammer wrapped his gloved fingers around the TIE Interceptor’s control yoke and pulled up lightly, taking control of the craft as the simulation began. His grin widened as he felt the eager hum of the Interceptor’s namesake twin ion engines, the constant vibration that reminded him just how powerful the craft he controlled really was. Having that much power at his fingertips, that much speed, made Slammer more than a little giddy. Always what some might call a ‘thrill junky’, he reveled in the idea that he could easily kill himself at any moment when he was behind the controls of the famed TIE Interceptor. Some mornings it was all that got him out of bed.
Running his eyes over his scanner readouts, Slammer quickly located the target of this particular simulation: a single flight of X-Wing class starfighters. His task was simple. He was to intercept and destroy these enemy starfighters before they could pose a threat to the imaginary convoy some distance back. This was what the TIE Interceptor was made for, space superiority operations, and it excelled in that role. However, a single X-Wing was a formidable foe. Three of the craft posed a serious threat. In fact, the minute Slammer had learned the details of this simulation, half of his highly analytical brain had gone into overdrive, eventually working out just how slim the odds of survival really were. The other half, however, looked forward to the challenge, the rush. The risk.
Slammer knew that his impulsiveness, his ultimate desire to seek out danger, was his greatest weakness. He also understood that one day it would probably get him killed. He could not, however, find it in him to care overly much. It was not that he didn’t fear death, for on some abstract level he truly did. But he had done so much in the last few years, had seen and survived so many terrifying things, that he felt himself to be invincible. It was the age-old disease of the young. Slammer was massively bright, talented, and in the peak of his physical health. As far as he was concerned nothing could touch him, nothing posed too great of a risk. Combined with his natural addictive tendencies and his need to seek out the next big thrill, it was a self-destructive spiral that would one day have dire consequences.
None of that concerned him now, however. The only thing occupied Slammer’s attention at that particular moment was the trio of simulated X-Wings roaring towards him.
Inching the throttle forward, Slammer keyed his throat mic and relayed his progress. “Target acquired, Slammer is on intercept trajectory. Accelerating to attack speed.”
With that he unceremoniously slammed his throttle forward, increasing the speed and the characteristic whine of the TIE Interceptor greatly. The X-Wings began to close more and more rapidly, and Slammer’s hands broke out in a cold sweat, as they always did right before an engagement. Inside his helmet, however, his face was composed. He even wore a slight smile, an indication of just how much he loved testing his skills and putting his life on the line—even if it was simulated.
When the four starfighters finally approached engagement distance, Slammer went to work. He threw his Interceptor into a wide, looping spiral, and let loose with a few stutter burst from his four laser cannons. The goal here wasn’t to actually cause any damage the X-Wings, but to keep them busy enough that they forgot to shoot back. It didn’t quite work, but in the end it didn’t matter. The already miniscule Interceptor is hard enough to hit when flying straight, but moving in two directions at once it became downright impossible to target. The X-Wings let loose with their own lasers, creating a thick field of fire, but they were too slow. Slammer’s Interceptor slipped past them with ease, and it was then that the real fun began.
Immediately after he passed the last X-Wing, Slammer killed his engines and swung the Interceptor around in a tight spiral. He purposefully overcompensated, knowing that the X-Wings would already be turning themselves for another pass. The Interceptor was faster, however, and more agile, and so when Slammer came around to face the enemy craft they were only partially turned toward him. With a feral grin he accelerated once again, slotting in nicely behind the closest X-Wing as it tried to complete its turn. Then, knowing that he didn’t have much time before the other two X-Wings gained a firing solution on him, he let loose with his laser cannons before his targeting computers could even line up the shot. He didn’t need the computers, though. The X-Wing, while not exactly a slow craft, could not compare to the speed and maneuverability of the Interceptor. And while Slammer only had a few seconds before he’d have to go evasive, he had more than enough time to walk his fire into the target. The stutter fire meant that each of his cannons fired individually and then cycled, allowing him to do so quickly and efficiently. By the time he was actually on target his targeting computers had taken over, and he poured lasers into the X-Wings shields. They collapsed after only a quick instant under the relentless and accurate onslaught, and then Slammer fired one final quad-linked blast from all four cannons in ordered to finish the enemy fighter off.
As soon as he depressed the trigger on his final shot, Slammer was moving again, knowing instinctively that his shot had connected and understanding that there was very likely a pair of X-Wings hot on his own tail. He yanked the Interceptor up into a steep climb, and just in time. The two remaining X-Wings roared through where his fighter had just been, lasers firings. That kind of barrage would have disintegrated Slammer’s ship instantly, but he didn’t spare any time to think about that. Instead he threw the Interceptor back into a dive, slotting in behind the pair. Per standard procedure the X-Wings then split, one going starboard and one going port. Slammer followed the one who tried to climb port-side, catching up easily to the slower craft. He followed the same procedure as before, except this time he didn’t quite have time to finish the job. His green lasers managed to shred the X-Wing’s shields, but before he could deliver the final blow the other enemy craft opened fire on him from behind. Throwing his own starfighter into a tight spiral dive, Slammer grimaced as one of the X-Wing’s lasers managed to connect, shredding his own shields and setting off warning lights all over the cockpit. Desperate to gain some separation from the pursuing craft, the TIE pilot pushed his Interceptor faster and faster, muttering obscenities to himself the entire time.
The X-Wing continued to pursue him, however, although it was falling farther and farther behind. It was then that Slammer began to get angry, and it was then that a crazy sort of inspiration struck.
“Watch this!” Slammer shouted to no one in particular. Then he reversed the Interceptor’s engines and threw them into reverse.
The Interceptor stopped on a dime. Slammer was smashed into his restraint harness by the sudden change in momentum, hard enough that he knew he’d have a bruise later. It was worth it, though. The X-Wing pilot, or the computer controlling the simulation, didn’t quite know what to think. At the last moment the enemy fighter attempted to get a shot off, but it went way wide. The X-Wing went soaring by, and before it could get away Slammer accelerated again, sliding neatly into place behind the X-Wing. It was a textbook firing position, and he wasted little time in making good use of it. A half a second after gaining the necessary position, Slammer’s targeting computer beeped, indicating he had a good shot. He depressed the trigger on the control stick, and watched as the green lasers lanced out and tore the second enemy X-Wing to shreds.
That only left one bogey operational. That X-Wing was hit, limping slightly as it were, but so was Slammer. Both fighters could not take much more punishment, and if Slammer was going to survive this encounter he was going to have to play smart.
Or, he thought to himself,
I can play it crazy.
Locating the X-Wing on his scanners, Slammer turned his own fighter and assumed an intercept. trajectory. Now he was travelling straight for the enemy fighter, and at breakneck speed. The X-Wing was still heavily armored, even it was lacking most of its shields, and it could take a lot more punishment than his own delicate Interceptor. Still, Slammer was a man with a plan, even if that plan was likely to get him killed, and he wasn’t about to change his mind now.
As the X-Wing neared it opened fire, spitting red lasers out through the black void that separated the two craft. The energy sheathes lanced towards Slammer’s Interceptor with frightening speed, but Slammer didn’t slow. If anything he nudged his throttle even further open. He also began to loop the TIE into a lazy barrel roll in an attempt to avoid the incoming lasers. What he did not do, however, was open fire with his own cannons. He let the X-Wing get closer and closer, firing the entire time. And then, just as the enemy fighter was getting ready to pass by him, Slammer made his move. He pulled the Interceptor up sharply, gaining altitude on the X-Wing. Then he hit his brakes slightly and spun his craft on a dime to face the direction he had just come from. Then he let loose with his laser cannons, filling the space where his own fighter had just been seconds earlier with lethal green lasers—lasers that the X-Wing flew right through, too sluggish to avoid completely.
The majority of the green bolts missed, but several clipped the X-Wing. Lacking any shielding due to events earlier in the fight, the normally harmless glancing blows proved devastating. One tore off one of the X-Wing’s signature strike foils, while another managed to connect with an engine. A third laser struck the cockpit of the craft directly. And while this X-Wing didn’t explode or anything so dramatic, it began to drift off into the great void of nothingness that composed most of the Universe. Very likely the pilot was dead, cooked in his cockpit. If he hadn’t been, the now crippled X-Wing was an easy target for Slammer’s own TIE Interceptor, and the Vast Imperial pilot finished the ship off with a quick shot the X-Wing’s reactor. The craft exploded, leaving only debris remaining of the three target craft.
Grinning to himself at his success, Slammer keyed his throat mic. “Control, this is Slammer,” he said. “Mission accomplished. All targets eliminated.”
- OOC:
- 1860 words
