Planatae

Strategy

"That's their ship hanger?" Aurrum pressed a set of fingers against his forehead, rubbing vigorously. The comms tech had relayed the news; that the small warehouse below them that clung to the larger structure was where all the resort's crafts were held. Apparently, shuttles were used to get people down - bigger crafts were never expected to land.

Sick of having a middleman, he took control of the comms line directly and patched himself in. Doing so would limit his attention, but it needed to be done.

"This is the captain of the Andromeda," he announced. "Who am I speaking to?"

The reply came in message form on his feed.

This is Annika Reyal, acting manager of the Aquatime resort and liaison to the Aquatime Corp.

Aurrum scowled, you wanna explain what just happened to me?

Her response arrived after a lengthy pause. We had to follow the code, captain. For a series of reasons, Alto II lacks adequate defenses for what you brought to our doorstep.

So, she was a bureaucratic lackey, one who valued her image to the company rather than the employees underneath her. Breaking the Code meant heaping a whole stack of fines on the corporation - and that would mean losing her job in the process.

As president of his own enterprise, he understood the power of incentive, leverage - employees willing to put the company first. But there was a limit to that. Still, he couldn't deny the fact that they were the ones that had pulled Alto II into this chaos, not to mention the fact that the most established settlement on the planet was a damn resort.

So, how's this going to work? He finally asked her.

Our hanger is too small, was the answer. And I'd rather you not endanger our guests.

The irony of that wasn't lost on the captain. But he furrowed his brows, thinking.

There's a larger settlement underwater, correct?

Yes.

Well, if we managed a water landing, could you get us underwater-

He was interrupted by another massive blast. One of the turrets had taken out another fighter.

-underwater? He continued. They couldn't follow us without the proper equipment.

There was a pause, then: I'll see what I can do.

For the time being, the connection was then cut, and the captain returned his attention to the battle. They'd started this fight against six or so fighters, and to his deep pleasure, his feed was only tracking two active enemies left. The Andromeda had taken a beating, though. The only shields they'd managed to maintain were focused on the cockpit and the engine. Entire sections of the ship were sectioned off, riddled with tears in the hull and other signs of destruction.

But worst of all, their rear turret had been taken out, leaving him with just one. It was a terrible thing, he decided, that the men and woman manning the gun had suffered for a mission they never really knew. But it was his weight to bear. He was the one who had brought his crew into this, and at least he'd been open about the dangers.

It also meant that they were down to just the fore turret, and the two fighters knew it. They flew frustrating patterns, always striking the Andromeda from behind, shaving off piece by piece like a knife carving through wood.

Still, the waters of Alto II loomed up at them, and there was real hope that they'd make it. Half a dozen fighters were a lot, but the Purists (he assumed) had likely thought it would be more than enough to take down a civilian craft like the Andromeda. But there was more than what meets the eye to his ship, and he'd make sure they got a taste of it.