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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“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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