circle7 | Let's blow this popsicle stand

15 minutes had passed since the negotiations had started. The rogue army of Gladsheim, a planet nestled in the middle-eastern belt, had organized a meeting with the circle to settle their debt. The army, to escape the invading eye of the galactic union, had been ordering military equipment from circle seven. Gladsheim’s supply had recently come to a stop, however, the planet was lacking necessary funds – and being a planet low on natural resources, had nothing to trade. Already in debt to this spacebound mafia, Gladsheim had arrived for a meeting aboard the organizations flagship. They had neglected to mention to the organization that they had no intention of paying off their debt.

The first of the explosions went off only seconds after the 15 minute mark. With it, the entire route of security cameras within a 60-foot radius of the north hangar. The alarm for a security breach was immediately triggered, red lights and sirens erupting all across the ship. Guards that attempted to infiltrate the hangar immediately only served to make the situation worse for the circle. The explosion had opened crevices in the ships outer shell, allowing contact with the outside. Any persons caught out on the deck without the necessary gear combusted almost instantaneously, and what’s worse, the ships emergency prevention system reacted by sealing all routes to the hangar.

“We should be approaching the storage vault we’re look for on quadrants E23, 54. Ready your guns and be wary of explosives. The hallways narrow out ahead. Keep your gliders on course.” The voice of young man resonates through a flock of small glider ships. He leads the cluster of ships, piloting the foremost glider through the ruins of the explosion.

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“The carrier’s unharmed as far as I can tell. I’m currently making my way into the cockpit, I’ll have you notified once I’m there.” Vercelli gripped his mic as he spoke, making his way towards the middle-corridor of the large spacecraft. The ship groaned as winded around to face the ship that Joel was currently gunning, attempting to escape by flying underneath the vehicle.

Edited 2010-07-15 06:17 (UTC)

Joel's eyes narrowed with his grin, wrinkles at the corners of his eyes reminiscent of experience. As the collapsing enemy fighter fizzled away into the ship's peripheral, another made itself visible in front of them, the carrier swooping underneath it. Joel was hardly a considerate man, but given the importance of the carrier, the whole mission would be null if he let it get damaged in the crossfire. (What a pity that would be.)

Unfortunately, that meant waiting and dodging; a tactic the commander certainly was never fond of. A frown settled on his face.

"Speed that thing up while you're at it."

"Keep your pants on, old man. I'm only just now taking over the controls. A ship this big isn't going to go much faster as it is." The younger pilot replied, flipping the acceleration switch as he took the seat of the previous pilot. Vercelli continued to go through a few checks, punching buttons and adjusting dials before his hands finally settled on the wheel.

"Pity," he said simply, and as soon as the carrier was clear, Joel fired. Well, maybe a second too early, for risk's sake. Fortunately, there's no crossfire or debris that hits the carrier.

Unfortunately, it hits the fighter.

"Shit," Joel swore into his mic, the warning beeps of the damage alert getting the better of his attention. Direct hit to one of the wings. The engine still worked, but barely - it was slowing them down. "Gotta switch to god damn back-up." The pilot across the cockpit hardly looked worried, doing as the commander said, flipping a switch and typing in some commands.

"Switched, sir. Speed lowered by fifteen percent, but the ship is stabilized." Joel scowled, but it couldn't be helped.

"Let's just get into that asteroid belt. They're starting to retreat anyway."

“Can you get through the asteroids with a busted wing?” Vercelli barked into the mic, his voiced strained between worry and anger. He often found himself cursing Joel for such recklessness during the few missions they’d shared together. The man wasn’t unintelligent, but as far as Vercelli though – men like him should do the behind the scenes planning, not thrust themselves into the main operation.

The carrier made a sharp turn to the left, escaping from under the decelerating fighter.

"Tch. It'll be fine. Just slow. We'll fly higher." It was always a fight for the upper hand with them, too; whose opinion was the right one; a clash of power. Of course, it wasn't past Joel to pull the 'experience with age' card. Vercelli was still just a kid in his eyes. (That didn't discredit him in all areas, though.)

With a signal from the commander, the pilot steered higher, above the upcoming asteroids. The smaller rocks would be much less threatening to the ship than the larger ones. If they came hurdling toward them, it would be difficult to dodge without their normal speed. With a sigh, Joel leaned back, sliding off his helmet.

"No enemy ships on the radar," he confirmed. "Not quite smooth sailing, but we might be able to relax until we reach Gladsheim."

“What’s to say they won’t show up?” Vercelli growled back. Despite his argumentative stance, he eased into the high route where the asteroids were scarcer in number. The large carrier settled into the air space a few feet being the fighter. “These guys are ruthless. Don’t think for a second that the won’t attack you when you’re down.”

“I’m readying the back canons in case we get any visitors. We can’t afford to lose fighters to hapless pilots like you.”

"Hah, I'm not an idiot, tootsie," Joel laughed, kicking back with his hands clasped behind his head, ankle sitting on his knee. "They won't attack the carrier with you in it. You have more use than infiltration, y'know."

Idly picking up his gun from his holster, he span it on his finger, humming in thought. "Though I suppose you're right. That won't stop them from taking on the fighter. My guard isn't down."

“It’s your call, old man.” Vercelli frown was so deep that it could almost be heard over the radio. “I doubt a silly rumor is going to keep them at bay.”

The gun stopped twirling in his hand, the handle resting in his palm. Maybe it was best to let this go - Vercelli sounded irritated. (It just made Joel chuckle to himself.)

"Same plan. I'll just be more on guard. I'll even call for back up if you're that worried."

Let's blow this popsicle stand

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