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Alrighty, as promised, the next installment of the Odds against story series is finally online. I hope that you enjoy it. Two more to go.

As always, comments are appreciated and requested.

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11-16-3015

Time Index; 0837 hours GST

MAS Yunius

Sython system, Merxian space

By the time the counter on Katy's HUD reached zero, the green eyed vixen's fighter was already in motion, the fighter bay doors opening the moment the carrier reverted to its proper phase, her wings barely clearing the huge airlock doors. It was exactly the sort of maneuver that fighter pilots were taught to avoid attempting, since a single mistake would cost not only the pilot's life, but the lives of her comrades who would be flying close behind her, but she was too keyed up to care. The second the Giryan cleared the outer hull of the Yunius, her HUD lit up bright, the sensor system linking instantly with the other military computers in the system. At once, two big capital ships and dozens of fighters outlined themselves with bright red, indicating that they were hostile. Normally, the sight of a patrol frigate would have been terrifying to a fighter pilot, but she felt oddly confident when she saw its outline on the screen, perhaps because it was already damaged.

And there was something else, something about the mercenary ships that was bothering her, but she didn't have time to worry about it. Of course, what made it worse was that the only other ship rendered with a green outline was suddenly obscured by a bright plasma explosion even as her sensors highlighted it. Wincing, Katy recognized the outline of her friend's ship in the blast and shook her head. Pushing away the sensation of her heart dropping down into her toes, trying not to think about the crew of the transport ship, the vixen general tapped the communications system, choosing the circuit that connected her to her squadron leaders, already forming a battle plan.

"Listen up." She called, throttling back slightly so she didn't get too far ahead of her squadron mates. When the explosion had cleared from her sight, she saw that the Adaron was miraculously in one piece, though the forward third of the ship was just plain gone. And yet, despite that, the ship was still in motion, its course clearly ballistic, out of control. Frowning, she focused on the task in hand. The enemy capital ships formed one point of a rough triangle above Sython, with the crippled Adaron and her carrier forming the other corners, which wasn't a bad tactical position to start from. Unfortunately, the hostile ships were closer to the Adaron then her carrier was, and their fighters were rapidly closing into range with the transport. Which meant her fighters had to act fast to change the situation. "We have hostile fighters and capital ships in system. Sun'dr, take your wing and screen the Adaron, keep them away from the transport. Thunderstrike squadron, maneuver relative up and come down on the frigate from the rear, finish the job the Adaron started. Golden Drakes, go with them and keep the enemy guessing what we are up to." As Sun'dr's three squadrons split off from the others, their engines at full thrust, the Black Claws finally began to react, the fighters that had been leisurely heading for the crippled Adaron gathering back into a loose formation, their speed increasing, trying to win the race to the prize. Smiling grimly, Katy licked her lips. "Yunius, the cruiser is all yours. Think you can handle it?"

"With pleasure, General." The Yunius's captain replied, an eager tone in his voice and Katy allowed herself a brief grin. Cruisers were the mainstay of navel fleets, designed specifically to engage and destroy capital ships. The heaviest cruiser class ships could even go toe to toe with battleships, though under the best conditions, they usually only managed a stalemate against them. But, as powerful as a light cruiser like the Black Claw's Sorgat was, it didn't stand a chance against a top of the line heavy fighter carrier like the Yunius. Not only did the carrier have more armor than the cruiser, and three times as many fighters on board, it had a compliment of missiles and plasma batteries comparable to a heavy cruiser. Of course, none of it even came close to the ace in the hole that the Yunius had. Unlike cruisers and frigates, the carrier had both the sensor capacity and space in its hull to utilize torpedoes, possessing six tubes fore, and two more aft. And, being fresh from the repair yards, the Yunius was fully stocked with the weapons, enough to take on a dozen Sorgats, even deployed so their point defenses could overlap.

"Redhawks, form up on me, three diamonds formation." Katy commanded, steadily drawing in deeper and slower breaths as her squadron expertly formed up around her in the formation she had directed. With every breath, she lowered more and more of the barriers that she maintained in her mind, the walls that kept her psychic powers under control, and the rest of the universe out of her mind, unconsciously reaching out with her senses. But, instead of searching for something specific as she had only minutes before, she forced herself to let go of the conscious use of her powers, easing her control to the point where she was wholly reactive, letting the engagement zone fill her mind. The skill she was about to use was one that every psychic in the universe was capable of, regardless of power level or specialty; as a matter of fact, it had been theorized that generations of people seeking this very ability had been how psychics had developed in the first place. Doing it was simply a matter of mental discipline. Just as the familiar formation of dots in her sensor screen formed out of the chaotic mass of fighters around her, she felt what she had been seeking, the deep sensation of calm coming over her, a feeling of utmost confidence following it. Smiling to herself, the vixen completed her thought, telling her pilots what they most assuredly already knew. "We have the fighters."

Other fighter commanders would have been staring at their sensor display right now, planning out their strategy with their flight leaders, trying to anticipate the enemy's movements, obsessively monitoring their own formations, all while flying closer and closer to engagement range. But in the mental state Katy had just achieved, she had no need of sensor displays. She didn't need to see the blips on her display indicating that the fighters of her squadron were flying in perfect sync with each other, mere meters apart, she could feel it. What was more, she could sense impressions of where they were going to be a few moments ahead. And though they were still well out of range, she could feel the same thing about the enemy too. The mercenary fighters were still heading for the crippled transport, but Katy could sense the enemy flight leader's doubts and a feral grin found its way to her vulpine lips.

Since the very beginning of the profession, more than a thousand years ago, fighter pilots had earned a reputation, often justly deserved, it was true, for living on the bare edge of control; in short, for living for the adrenaline rush that came with combat, and, as jets, and eventually space fighters were developed, for trying to maneuver at higher and higher speeds. In the military, pilot training was accompanied by a rigorous screening process, and even more discipline than regular soldiers got, in order to temper that aspect a bit, taking away the recklessness that often went with it. As a result, the vast majority of military pilots kept their adrenaline hunger under control, using it to hone their skills so they were as sharp as razors, rather than letting it push them too far. Mercenary groups, on the other hand, usually picked up pilots wherever they could find them, and thus lacked that critical edge. At times, it made them even more dangerous in battles, since they had a tendency to take chances that military pilots wouldn't. But at others, that untrained quality made them less like a squadron, and more like a mob. From what Katy was sensing, about half the Black Claw fighters were flown by former military pilots, possessing the same discipline as her own, keeping pace with their leaders. The rest were barely keeping themselves under control, the adrenaline of seeing a vast group of fighters coming at them, and, in a few cases, the illicit stimulants they had taken before launching into the void, making them teeter on the very edge of control.

And, a moment later, Katy's grin broadened from feral to the look of a predator on the hunt. She felt the Black Claw fighter commander give the order to break off the pursuit of the battered transport, and, for a moment, it looked as if the mercenary fighter pilots would comply, turning to face her interceptors. Then, she felt it, felt the shift as first one, then two, then almost half of the pilots split off from the rest, heading right for the transport, completely ignoring the orders of their leader. Taking advantage of the sudden confusion, Katy spoke over the communication system.

"Third section, split off and pursue the fighters heading for the Adaron." She ordered and the right hand diamond of four wing pairs split off smoothly, their engines flaring bright as the pilots put the powerful engines into full thrust. "Everyone else, proceed with main body intercept, maximum thrust."

Katy suited actions to words a moment later, pushing the throttle control all the way forward, the sudden change in acceleration pushing her back into her seat, her thumb flicking the weapon selector over to her fighter's plasma cannons. Like most large mercenary groups, the Black Claws sprang for the best fighters that they could get a hold of, but, since space fighters had one, and only one purpose, it had proven to be impossible for armament manufacturers to justify allowing civilians to purchase the brand new fighter designs they had developed for the military. Which meant that the mercenary pilots were flying fighters from the generation before the ones currently in use in the Merxian military; equipment that had been surplused out as obsolete before the war. And the Redhawks, Katy's personal squadron, was exactly the sort of fighter squadron any mercenary flight leader in their right mind would have been trying to avoid engaging. Giryan interceptors, in addition to having jump drives, were also the fastest and most agile fighter in the Merxian arsenal, faster even then the Vipers they had been using, making them ideal for engaging and destroying fighter craft, and especially the lumbering bombers that they usually escorted.

Had Katy been in command of the mercenaries, she would have ordered her fighters to fall back, moving back to the cover of the patrol frigate's point defenses, rather than engage the interceptors head on. The only way that fighters could usually win against interceptors was to outnumber them, overwhelm them so that their superior agility was useless. But with half the Black Claws chasing after the Adaron, the mercenaries and her own pilots were about even in numbers, making it frankly suicidal to engage. But the mercenary commander wasn't even thinking about that. Instead, she could tell he was thinking about other engagements he had fought in, images of other battles flashing through his surface thoughts, mostly fights with other mercenaries or else the escorts of merchant vessels, groups often more poorly equipped than his own. His flight group had never lost, and so he was confident in the ability of his pilots to take on anything; a belief that was about to cost him dearly. She could see his plan as he devised it, could almost hear what he was intending as he gave orders. He would tell his flight group to split in two, one group dropping back, moving relative up and down to the original flight path, while the other accelerated at full throttle towards her interceptors. The second group would wait until the dogfight was in full swing, then they would pounce on targets of opportunity, which could easily swing the battle in their direction. It was a good plan, one that would probably have worked, if only she wasn't an experienced fighter commander who was expecting that tactic; if only she wasn't a psychic who was reading his mind.

"Hawks, lance formation, plasma cannons on the first pass, break on my command only." Katy commanded calmly, nudging her crosshairs slightly, unconsciously settling them over one of the leading fighters. Redhawk two, her wingman, kept his position off her left wing, dropping back only a few meters. Behind her, the rest of her squadron was forming into a tight, hollow cone, with her at its point. Normally, this formation was only used in conjunction with other squadrons, since it was extraordinarily vulnerable from almost all directions except the front, but that was exactly the point here. A moment or two later, the sensor display on her HUD lit up, displaying the target in her sights. It was painted a dark forest green with three ragged stripes like claw marks in black slashing across it from nose to tail, but the flashy paint job didn't concern her. Even as she sighted in on the fighter, a buzzing tone in her ears told her that some enemy was trying for a missile lock on her, but she ignored that usually disconcerting sound as well. At the rate the two formations were closing, even if they managed to lock on and fire, the missiles wouldn't be able to maneuver quickly enough to hit their targets. And if they avoided the missiles on the first pass, and they should, the advanced ECM package that the Giryans sported would be more than enough to confuse the missiles' tracking systems long enough for them to run out of fuel, rendering them harmless.

Taking a breath, Katy waited for a few moments, counting down carefully in her head, waiting for just the right instant. A couple of seconds later, several of the mercenaries let loose missiles, the small projectiles shooting forward at high speed on jets of fire, but Katy didn't react, her disciplined comrades keeping formation beautifully, even as the missiles closed with the formation. A heartbeat later, Katy's finger tightened on the trigger, dual streams of plasma rounds pouring out into her path, moving to connect her interceptor with the mercenary in her sights. Already, the opposing pilot was moving to avoid her fire, but her hand was moving almost without her input, making fine adjustments to her heading that looked all the world as if she were tracking the target, while still not breaking formation, barely even noticing as an incoming missile came within a few feet of her fighter, its thrusters straining as it tried to compensate for her speed. But, in reality, she had no need to track her target at all. A moment later, the mercenary fighter exploded, the pilot's evasive maneuvers leading him right into the sights of another Redhawk, number four she guessed. The entire cone formation was firing now, boring a hole through the mercenary fighters like a drill, the brightly painted fighters of the Black Claw group starting to scatter as a few of their number evaporated under the onslaught.

Doubtless, the mercenaries expected her squadron to break formation and engage them as they moved around the plasma rounds coming out from the cone of Giryans, or else expose the rear of the formation to their weapons, but neither of those options were what Katy had planned. Far from breaking to engage, the Marine fighters kept on in almost a straight line, aiming right for the hole that they had bored in the enemy squadron, engines pushing with all the power they possessed. Even as the mercenaries began to realize what was happening, began to react to the Marine's odd tactics, Katy was through the first group of fighters, her thumb flicking the weapon control over to short range missiles. Making a slight adjustment upward, she allowed her crosshairs to settle over a fighter in the upper half of the second group. Just as the last fighter in her squadron cleared the first group, Katy spoke once more, giving a single word as the beeping of her targeting computer became a constant tone in her ears, overwhelming the fading buzz of the already forgotten missile that was still trying vainly to locate her fighter.

"Break." She said, tightening her finger on the trigger once more before flicking the weapon control back to cannons, pulling the joystick hard to the right and back, the star field tilting crazily in her view, bright points becoming blurry streaks in her sight. To the mercenaries, it would look as though the cone had exploded, her fighters going every direction except the one that they had been flying in. Without so much as glancing at the sensor display, Katy guided her fighter by instinct through the arc, changing the pitch of her movement ever so slightly, her finger tightening up on the trigger one more time, a Black Claw appearing right in the path of her plasma rounds, the masses of coherent energy burning through something vital in the bare instant it took for the mercenary to pass through her sights. Twitching the stick back to the left, she sent her fighter into a broad bank, aiming for the edge of the developing dogfight. As her interceptor left the rolling ball of fighters, the vixen licked her lips, her mind running at the speed of light, feeling every detail of the fight as it developed, not even trying to make sense of the sensor display. The mercenaries were disorganized, leaderless, the squadron leader having been one of the fighters that had been caught in the cone of fire in the opening seconds of the engagement, and her own interceptors were savaging them as a result. Already, more than a dozen were destroyed or disabled, though the kill rate was falling fast as the remaining fighters maneuvered around and around one another.

Looping back around so her fighter's nose was pointed at the dogfight, the General focused on the emotions of the combatants. Excitement surged through space like lightning, the hyperawareness of adrenaline highs making images surge through every mind, thoughts of moves and counter moves from nearly thirty minds overwhelming even to her. Then, other emotions began to surface, triumph as pilots guessed their enemy's reaction correctly, fear and anguish as a puff of bright light marked a kill, and then, she sensed it, the thing she had been waiting for. The minds of her squadron were almost as familiar as her own, the result of endless hours of flying together in exercises and combat sorties, and all for a very good reason. Now, she felt fear and barely controlled panic from one of those familiar minds, the taste of it bitter to her mind's eye. Guiding her fighter back into the quieting fight, Katy sought out the mind, guiding her fighter in towards a looping trio of fighters, the rest of the dogfight already being pushed into the back of her mind. Redhawk ten, a young wolf pilot that had been a replacement to the squadron a few months ago, had apparently been homing in on one Black Claw when another had found its way onto her tail. Now, all three ships were locked into a tight spiraling loop around and around one another. None of them could break out of the loop without being exposed to enemy guns, and yet none of them could maneuver well enough to bring their target into their sights for a shot.

Katy had been unlucky enough to find herself in such a situation several times in her career, and she knew that it could only last so long before something gave, and from her strained emotions, she knew Redhawk ten would break first. The rest of her interceptors were engaged elsewhere, so Katy grinned to herself, cutting back the throttle to half speed while using maneuvering thrusters to point her nose downward, then pushing the throttle up again, effortlessly inserting herself into the looping fighters. Now, the Black Claws had another foe to contend with, and that was all she needed.

"Ten, push hard right in ten, z plus 75, help me engage." She called over the comm. carefully guiding her fighter through the loops, waiting for her squadron mate to comply. Then, she felt it, felt the probing touch of another mind and she knew why Ten was in such trouble. The second Black Claw, the one that had come up on her tail, was a psychic, a class two by its feel. Not especially powerful, but it gave the mercenary a decisive edge over many other pilots. Fortunately, when the psychic detected her powers, he made the very great mistake of trying to bull his way into her mind, obviously assuming she was a lesser psychic like him. Grinning slightly to herself, Katy allowed him to break through one of her barriers, just enough to give the illusion that he was getting into her mind, and then, just as he was probing for an advantage, she pounced.

Thoughts like steel webs descended over the mercenary's probe, trapping it in place, and before he could make a move to shut her out, her own attack had blitzed right through his paltry defenses and she was fully into his head. Again, Katy wished briefly that she had different talents, because she could have easily taken complete control over her opponent if she was skilled in mind control, but, that is not to say she couldn't do anything at all with her powers from where she was. Just as Ten complied with the order she had given, Katy reached out to the distracted merc and gave a nudge to the psychic's right hand, the one guiding the fighter's course, and tightened up on her own trigger once more at the same moment, the psychic too busy trying to react to her sudden mental assault to notice his hand moving. Even as Ten cleared the loop, Katy's plasma rounds cut into the first Black Claw's engines.

Space fighters depended on a delicate balance of thrusters and main engines to maneuver in combat, the systems precisely calibrated to one another; the damage she did was relatively minor, and could have been patched up inside a few hours, but it was more than enough to upset that critical balance, slowing him down as the thrusters over-compensated for his speed. Unfortunately, with his mind concentrated on trying to push her out, the second pilot didn't notice the nudge of the stick until it was too late. Twitching her joystick in the other direction, Katy neatly avoided the two mercenaries as they collided, the wrecks fusing into one as the fearsome sum of kinetic energy melded metal into a twisted mass that didn't resemble much of anything, much less two fighter craft. Oddly, despite the immense forces involved, the fighters didn't explode, just going dark as their engines ceased functioning, a twisted monument where elegant machines of war had once been.

"Thanks Lead." The female wolf said over the comm, her voice relieved. "I thought they had me."

"My pleasure Ten." Katy replied, scanning her sensor display with satisfaction. Every single mercenary fighter was either destroyed or too badly damaged to continue fighting, whereas her squadron only had a few damaged ships, and just one destroyed, its occupant already guiding its escape pod out of the battle zone. Shaking her head for a moment, Katy marveled at how easily the merc fighters had been destroyed, the victims of poor leadership and inferior technology. Guiding her fighter back around towards the limping transport, her squadron forming back up around her as she did so, Katy's ears twitched in surprise, her comm unit crackling into life.

"Redhawk one, this is Kingpin leader." Colonel Sun'dr said, his tone troubled.

"Go ahead Kingpin," Katy said, picking out Sun'dr's fighter among those of his pilots. As she had ordered, the three squadrons of fighters had formed into a staggered formation between the wounded Adaron and the Black Claw ships, slowly circling around it like a shield.

"We have a snag." Sun'dr reported, sounding concerned. "Somebody launched torpedoes at the Adaron in the middle of the fight. From all the damage, they had to have impacted from the opposite side as the capital ships." Katy frowned, understanding exactly why the other officer was concerned. Then, a half moment later, Katy felt her heart go suddenly cold as her tracking computer chirped for attention. Another orange contact had popped up on the far side of the battle zone, where the merchant vessels had congregated the moment the shooting had started. Another heartbeat went by and a half dozen tiny blips appeared, followed almost immediately by the orange dot turning suddenly crimson.

"Damn it." Katy exclaimed, turning her fighter towards the new contacts. Now she saw how cunningly the Black Claws had laid their trap, and what had been bothering her about the mercenary ships. Whatever else might be said about them, the Black Claws were not stupid. Anyone who had ever seen a space battle knew that each and every capital ship was designed for a different purpose. Unless something went very, very wrong, capital ships never operated in groups smaller than three or four, so each ship's specialties would complement one another. A single frigate and a cruiser operating alone didn't make sense; such a formation lacked several critical abilities, and by the same token, possessed several critical vulnerabilities. But having a support ship hidden among the freighters was exactly the style of a group known for piracy. "Sun'dr, leave a squadron as cover for the Adaron. Redhawks, engage that new target. First section on me, intercept those torpedoes. Second and Third, keep that freighter from running."

A chorus of acknowledgements came over the comm. as Katy pushed the throttles full forward once again. The other seven members of her section followed suit after a few moments, hesitating. Taking down a missile or torpedo with a fighter was not exactly an easy proposition. In theory, interceptors were fast enough, and agile enough to track, engage and destroy torpedoes and even the smaller missiles. But theory was just that, theory. Every attempt to develop sensor units precise enough to allow tracking locks on such small and fast targets had ended in failure. Any system precise enough to track missiles and torpedoes accurately enough to engage, were too fragile to withstand the rigors of fighter combat. Which meant fighter-born missiles were out, leaving only manually sighted plasma cannons. Even psychics had a hard time making such a shot even once, much less several times in succession. There were just too many variables.

Pushing her anxieties away, Katy began to take deep breaths once again, her hand on the joystick becoming light, gentle, every motion precise, accurate to the micron by instinct alone. With such easy control, she could have threaded the needle through a gap no larger than her fighter while at max thrust. Drawing a deep breath of pure oxygen once more, the vixen closed her eyes for a moment, blocking out the distractions of the battle raging around the planet. Opening her eyes once more, she focused on the distant flares in her vision that indicated where the torpedoes were. The fearsome weapons had split into two groups, one of four torpedoes, the other of two. Quickly making a decision in her head, the vixen activated the comm. unit once more.

"Hawk three through eight, go for the larger group. Two, we have the trailing pair." She commanded, guiding her fighter towards the small group of projectiles. To anyone who didn't know about fighter combat, it might have seemed like a good idea to bring as many fighters to bear on each weapon as possible, to increase the chance of destroying them, but Katy knew better. The more fighters involved with an effort like this one, the more things that every pilot had to be aware of, which actually lessened the chance of every weapon being destroyed. By going with more or less equal numbers, she allowed each pilot a chance to maneuver freely without having to worry about their comrades around them. "Two, I have the lead torpedo, take trail."

"Got it." Her wingman replied, banking his fighter to the right, opening the distance between them, giving each other more room to move. Settling her crosshairs just ahead of the bright flare that was the torpedo's exhaust, the vixen forgot about the rest of the battle, forgot about the feel of the controls in her hands, forgot even about the enriched air she was breathing. Instead, she focused on the pointed shape of the torpedo that she was rapidly closing with. Throttling back a hair, she allowed her hand to move on its own, focusing instead on her prey. The torpedo seemed an impossibly small target, a target that would be incredibly hard to hit even with sensors, but she refused to consider its size. Torpedoes were so bulky, their warhead so powerful, that they couldn't maneuver quickly enough to hit small targets, but it wasn't like that was what they were for either. Even now, the onboard computer in the weapon would be sensing her fighter coming, and trying to decide if it needed to move to avoid her in order to accomplish its objective, or if it could simply accelerate out of the way. But she wouldn't give it a chance to figure it out.

Allowing her senses to spread out along the torpedo's surface, the vixen felt its smooth casing with her mind, felt the slightly raised portions where warnings had been painted, could feel the slight warmth of the warhead beneath the hard outer skin that would allow it to pierce through hull armor. She could feel every inch of the weapon, feel every tiny detail of the metal, from the barest tip of the armored nose cone to the exhaust vents through which the fury of its engine poured expended fuel. And suddenly, it was no longer small. The torpedo encompassed her whole world, a world she was about to destroy.

Then, all at once, her hand jerked the joystick to the side, sending her fighter soaring away from the torpedo, leaving behind the paired plasma rounds that soared in on the once again tiny target. A heartbeat later, she felt the first round hit just forward of the invisible seam between nose cone and fuselage, melting the armored covering into slag. That alone wouldn't have stopped the torpedo, but the second round finished the job, hitting the melted gap in the armor with perfect precision. In a moment, her fighter shook as the warhead exploded, the plasma kicking off the reaction far too early, the shockwave nearly pushing her fighter off course. If she had hesitated for one moment after she fired, the explosion would have crippled her ship. Grinning, Katy looped her fighter back around and scanned the scene. Her wingman had done nearly as well as she had, his shot liquefying the engine exhausts, making the weapon go into an endless loop as its computer tried vainly to get to its target, its main thrust going every direction save the one it wanted,.

"Good shot two." She commented, turning her fighter back towards the other group. Streams of plasma rounds converged on two different points of space from multiple directions, her sensor package showing that three fighters were engaging each of the remaining torpedoes, each trio almost stationary, tracking the targets with thrusters only. The tactic was a little difficult to pull off with such fast moving targets, but it was effective enough, first one, then the second torpedo detonating in moments, eliminating the last of the weapons.

"First section, form up on me." Katy commanded with satisfaction, turning her small ship towards the hostile freighter, which was swarming with fighters. From this distance, all the winking engines of the fighters and interceptors swooping in and out of the fight resembled some big lumbering beast of burden that had kicked a wasp's nest. But, it seemed like the freighter had been modified with more than just torpedo tubes. Despite having almost a full wing of fighters picking at it while its defensive weapons fired back ineffectually, the freighter was barely damaged, obviously having been given additional layers of armor. Frowning, Katy paused a moment, her sensors feeding her information on the freighter's status, then, her frown turned back into a grin. "First section, arm all remaining long range missiles, slave targeting to my telemetry."

A chorus of acknowledgements came over her headphones and the vixen pushed the throttle up a little ways. Civilian ships like the freighter were, in theory, capable of mounting capital ship grade defenses, but doing so changed their outline so much that any sensor system designed in the last two centuries could identify them as being modified to a tactical configuration. While some merchants did that on purpose to warn off pirates, the pirates themselves typically wanted them to remain innocuous, which meant relying on armor, not point defenses. Good enough in theory, but that approach had one tremendous vulnerability, one she was about to exploit. Leading her section around in an arc that would take them behind the freighter, Katy clicked through the settings on her targeting sensors, her computer suddenly placing boxes around systems on the hull of the freighter when she found the right one. Her expression becoming almost evil, Katy settled her crosshairs over the box in the midst of the ship's glowing cluster of engines, her thumb flicking over to long range missiles as she did so. Waiting for the beeping tone to begin in her ears, she tapped the control that transmitted targeting data to the rest of her flight, seven small pointers appearing around the edge of her crosshair as each targeting computer linked with her own. When the tone became solid in her ears, the vixen waited for just a moment longer before tightening up on the trigger twice in rapid succession.

"Fire and break by pairs." She commanded, keeping her targeting system locked for a few crucial seconds, holding course until she felt her comrades begin their breaks. Finally, as the last broke off his course, she split off as well, her fighter shuddering with the impact of a point defense laser on her hull as she changed course. No alarms came on as she put her fighter into a spiral to break the sensor's lock and she knew that it had only hit her armor, burning off a patch of her orange and red bloodstripes. A moment later, as she put her Giryan into a loop back towards the freighter, she saw her view suddenly fill with bright light as fifteen large missiles impacted on the freighter's engines. Fighter-born missiles were technically not powerful enough to do serious damage to starship armor, meant instead to be quick and maneuverable enough to engage fighters and bombers. But, used as a group against a single impact point like that, they could be even more effective than torpedoes, each successive missile boring deeper and deeper into the ship. Even before the explosions cleared, half the lights on the ship went suddenly dark and the point defenses stopped firing. Even as Katy began sizing up another target for her squadron's medium missiles, beginning a dive down towards the freighter's hull once more, her comm. system suddenly crackled to life.

"Attacking fighters, cease fire, we surrender!!" A voice said, sounding panicked and the vixen immediately pulled up so she was flying parallel to the ship's hull.

"Hostile freighter, this is General Jes'ic of the Merxian Alliance Marine Corps." She replied, "Power down all active systems except life support immediately and stand by to be boarded."

"Acknowledged, General." The voice said, the freighter's power signature dropping down almost to nothing as he complied.

"Sun'dr, stay here with your squadron. If that ship so much as twitches before we control it, turn it to slag." She commanded and the other officer accepted her order with what sounded like a relish. Turning her fighter back towards the capital ships, Katy took a moment to take in the battle.

The Black Claws were putting up the best fight they could, but they were outmatched in every way. The Yunius was currently between the two Black Claw ships, plasma rounds and missiles pouring into the smaller cruiser. The Juran frigate was little more than a blackened hulk, having taken several direct torpedo hits, either from the carrier itself or the bombers of Thunderstrike squadron; even as she watched, it split into two pieces, an internal explosion separating the rear quarter from the rest. The cruiser was trying its best to fight off the larger and more powerful ship, but now, it had to contend with the fighters and bombers as well, the smaller ships swarming around the carrier to attack. It would not be long until it too went silent, one way or the other. Katy was about to contact the carrier to order a marine detail over to the surrendered freighter when she noticed something much closer to hand. The Adaron's engines were no longer glowing quite as bright, thrusters kicking in, slowly redirecting the crippled ship back into a controlled trajectory. Selecting the savaged ship in her display, Katy activated the comm. unit.

"MAS Adaron, this is Redhawk one, come in please." She called. Waiting a few heartbeats for a reply, and hearing only static, she tried again. "MAS Adaron, is anyone receiving?"

"...wk One,..is Ad..." A voice said into her ear piece, sounding distorted, barely audible over the static. Finally, after a few more moments, the voice was back, sounding labored, but clear, only a little static coming through. "I repeat, Redhawk one, this is Adaron."

"Its good to hear from you Adaron." She replied, guiding her fighter in that direction, reducing her speed back to cruising rather than combat velocity. "What is your status?"

"Heavy damage to all systems." The voice replied, a burst of static coming over the comm line. "This is Chief Engineer Raithon, we have limited control over propulsion, and secondary life support only. Weapons and sensors are offline. We have sustained heavy casualties and sickbay is gone. The rest of the senior officers were on the bridge. They're gone. Most of the Turlion Rangers managed to get planet side before we were hit, though their status is unknown."

"Acknowledged Adaron." She said, soaring in to do a flyby of the ship. Every compartment forward of amidships on the vessel was either destroyed or open to space, and she could see numerous stress fractures in the hull extending back even further than that. "Sit tight Adaron, the battle is well in hand. We will have help on its way to you shortly."

"Copy that Redhawk one." The engineer replied, the comm line going silent as he went back to trying to salvage what he could of the ship. Returning her gaze to the Yunius and the remaining Black Claw ship, she saw a sudden bright explosion encompass the cruiser's belly and both ships suddenly stopped firing. It seemed that the battle was well and truly over up here.

"Yunius, this is Redhawk one." Katy said, waiting as the carrier's captain replied.

"Go ahead General." He said and Katy smiled to herself. The other officer sounded almost relaxed, as if nothing had happened at all, much less a ferocious battle.

"Dispatch a boarding detachment to take possession of the Black Claw's freighter, as well as repair teams and evac ships to the Adaron. They took heavy casualties." She commanded, keying a control so the conversation extended to her fighters as well. "All damaged fighters, return to the Yunius for repairs. Sun'dr, your fighters are in charge of security until I get back. Everyone else, go planet side, we have boots on the ground to support."