World In Turmoil

23: The KLA

From Gersanto.
Down the northern valley. Right.
Through the crevis, and down.
To the landing strip of the Protectorate Airbase, and left again.

To the old crusted, dark brown bunker of the Mk3 Dispatcher Fighters.
Whom rolled out on dusted wheels from their dark dank place of residence, into the fringed night air which was no better by comparison.

The darkness of the inhuman night enveloping them like a blanket. The planets moon refusing to offer it's light into this valley, to give these pilots some respite.

But regardless, heroes press on.

Lennard, feeling the synthetic fabric of the cockpit seat fold in on him, lifted his hands into position above the intricate console of flashing lights and diodes. Only to lower them back down to the flight-stick, which he toyed with out of familiarity. Eyes set on some distant plan that unfolded itself from years of thought.

The Mk3 was an old advancement for him. He had been born and raised flying Mk2's. So when the fabled MK3's were released from the Naval Aircraft Development Facilities, he was amongst the first to dive into it's cockpit, and push it's engines to their limits.

Mastering the fabled beast.
Only to be placed with the feeble Mk1 upon formal deployment.

He felt his old form return to him.
A lost familiarity with a craft of good repute.

The runway beneath him juggled the jet faintly. The slight indentations and cracks lowering and then raising the craft along it's journey.

In the darkness outside. One could just see the engineers and technicians crowded around each other speaking frantically of these debilitated versions.

Fear of how to land. How to survive once the mission was complete.

But, that was his job.

And he'd be damned if he'd let a techie do his job.

The Kinetic Launch Apparatus sprung to life in the distant gloom of the night, as the staff back at HQ initiated it's final start-up procedures.

Emeral's voice pierced the cold, "All right Lennard. The catapult is ready for you."
Lennard faintly laughed at the reality of the KLA.

"I don't like the idea of a Super Catapult that's just going to hurl me out like a dart at a board."

"Specially since the boards gonna shoot back ay?" Said Teal.

The Team Channel was still open. Lennard toyed with his hand over the dial that adjusted the listening frequency range, and looped the whole team's com into his craft.

"Teal, remember to teach me how the hell you keep so cheery at times like this, okay?" Said Red, laughing faintly.

Lennard's small cheeked smile let words through.
"All right gents, enough enough. Red, your taking my squadron, and Teal your taking Emeralds, correct?"

"Roger boss man, really do wish there were more Mk3's for us to have some fun with."

"I agree Red." Added Command, his voice distant. "But times dictate limitations."

"Nice one boss, can I have that on a shirt?"

"Red. If you and your blundering arse can make it out of this alive you can have a drink from my private collection."

"Yes sir!"

"OKAY. If everyone is done with this, can we save this damn planet?"

"Yes sir Yellow."
"Hell yeah bossman."
"Affirma-bloody-tive Gold Leader."

Command chuckled, "Nice to see you take charge Yellow. Maybe you can be the commander next time."

"Apologies, sir."

A click signified another voice joining the Com Chanel.
A broken and dejected voice easing itself into speech.

"Well Lennard... The KLA is ready. Just drive into the entry, and the magnetic-locks will hold the ship in place while the machine angles itself up for firing. Don't let it worry you. 
Imagine a big gun, and your the bullet."

"...Thanks Elon. Lets get this show on the road."

With that, Yellow Leader, and Emerald Leader, rolled their Mk3's up to the massive metallic turret that was the KLA.

The commander cleared his throat, and spoke.
"All Mk1 pilots are cleared for takeoff. Assume Fractal Formation, and don't worry about keeping up with the Mk3's. They will be going five times faster than you. Just get there when you can."

Everyone affirmed.

Lennard was first into the KLA. The magnetic locks springing to life, and grabbing hold of the craft. Levitating it up and suspending it in mid-air within the KLA's massive barrel.

There was a huge shudder, and the machine began to lift from the ground, raising up into firing position.

The barrel began to angle, Lennard feeling himself fall back deeper into the seat.

The magnetic coils lining the barrel in front of him began to fritz and zap as electrical charge began to flow through them.

Elon Rosen perked up,

"Firing in 3... 2... 1... Dispatch!"

BEH-JEEWW-WWAAAAAH!