Blood Impulse

Part 21.2 - ATTACK RUN

Brimstone Sector, Arcbird R-721

Adams thought she caught the initial reaction flash of the EMP, but she'd been told very specifically to wait, and she didn't doubt the Admiral's expertise in the slightest. Sure enough, a few seconds later, the remnants of a massive power surge washed over her ship, briefly flooding the systems and powering them up before it left her again in perfect darkness. That was the specified signal.

She reached out and began to power her craft back up, watching the lights of her comrades' ships blink on one by one in the darkness. The EMP had mostly dissipated into the void by the time it reached them. With their ships powered off, it had stood little chance of doing any damage and the starting batteries had retained their charge.

All according to plan. Fireball swallowed, trying to remember that this plan had been designed by one of the finest tacticians in the worlds. I'll be fine. She had to trust that the Admiral knew what he was doing. "Everyone, check in." She ordered.

The pilots' confirmation of startup rang through her helmet radio. Nine. That was everyone. "Alright, here we go." She engaged the main engines of her craft, boosting forward as she was flanked by her comrades. "You all know the drill. Warhawks paint the target and pierce the armor, Arcbirds check the perimeter and finish the job."

"10-4." Her squadron said.

The acceleration was burdensome, crushing, but just shy of being painful. At that rate, the remnants of the battle were in sight in just over a minute. As ordered, the Arcbirds split, two moving in opposite directions to secure the perimeter. They would meet on the opposite side of the battlefield while Adams herself shadowed the Warhawks' attack run.

Squadron 26 greeted them with darkness. The engines, the hull lights and the infrared target sights were all gone, dead. They'd been killed by the Singularity's EMP, but the ships themselves drifted linearly onward as the nebula's resistance slowed them at an irrelevant rate.

The Singularity herself had vanished into the distance, leisurely decelerating until the inertial dampeners came back online. Once that happened, the ship would make a sudden reappearance to confirm Squadron 26's condition.

"Here we go!" one of the Warhawk pilots cheered, painting targets with his infrared indicators. "Like fish in a barrel." With the click of a button, he loosed a pair of missiles from the mounts under the wing of his craft. Their own guidance systems kicked in, the thrust vents popping open as they rocketed away.

The move was mirrored by the other Warhawks, now scattered among the drifting battleships. Slowly at first, the missiles began to accelerate towards their targets. The propulsion wakes they left behind made it a dangerous dance of white ribbons. Inching towards the battleships in apparent slow motion, the weapons met no challenge.

The first detonation was a lonely orange welt until others rose up behind it in silent, uniform flashes. From Adams' perspective, it was so peaceful. Without the usual chaos of combat, the carnage was a thing of beauty. Without having to fight for her life, constantly dipping and dodging, she could watch the shimmering debris spiral slowly away like leaves on an autumn wind. As slow and calm as it seemed from her distance, it was magnificent.

Adams' wingman laughed wildly, "That's three more for the Lady Sin, you spineless Eran monkeys!"

Not yet, it isn't. "Donut, form up, we're doing our run." The Arcbirds' heavy blasters would carve out a nice chunk of ship in all the strategic places where the missiles had just pierced the armor. Squadron 26 would not be able to repair their communications, navigations, weapons or sensor capability within the next day. All according to plan, she knew it was.