Across the scarred and battle ravaged savanna. To the left of a vast shifting cloud of hardened and refined Last Stand Navy battleships. Just ahead of the vast mountain of Yarnasan.
Spiraled a lone jet fighter craft.
Its speed like a rock through water.
Plunging lower and lower, two black shapes surging towards it.
Two LSN fighter craft. The golden rays of the rising sun skimming over the lanky almost trowel like design. Leading white trails of atmospheric engines, as they plunged after the lone breadcrumb ahead of them.
The yellow striped jet was larger than the two by far. Twin atmospheric engines alone putting the aggressor craft to shame.
It trailed no plumb of smoke. Clearly damage had not truly been inflicted.
The fledgling LSN pilots had expected a simpler target. Yet it's shielding was strong.
As it spiraled, a faint shift blossomed in it's wings.
The falling jet craft threw itself to one side, force against the spin. And suddenly surged it's engines to a furious climb.
Climbing against gravity.
No true direction in it's mind, the path winding and unrefined, but clearly directed upwards ever up towards the sky, or away from the pull of the worlds gravity.
The other two craft that trailed him, were not of the same caliber. Their length, shorter. Their size, smaller.
Their weapons weaker.
And yet they had dared a shot towards this giant that had arrived upon their battlefield.
And now it was returning.
The spiral they had induced, was one only few pilots truly knew how to escape.
How to cause, yes that was simple.
Yet the two glistening Last Stand Navy MK 2 Viri-Vir-Indi fighters seemed... Taken aback by this.
Their cannons streaming lines of orange galzion once again towards the lone craft, yet its unguided path left it as too unpredictable a target to shoot, and its loneliness made it too cheap a target for any of The Navys missiles.
They truely underestimated the man within that jet. A man who knew dogfighting.
And was now furious.
Although the swooping eagles dove at him with fiery talons, he pulled the jet upwards, throwing it into a spin as to pass right over the LSN fighters, then forcing his full weight into the downwards direction again.
The jet slowing and going head over heal, reached its peak with its nose angled down towards the source of those orange bullets. Now left sitting as fish in a barrel to it's rotary autocannons that releasing a flurry of cold blue projectiles into the atmosphere.
The two craft were shredded.
The blue pellets tearing into them. Shredding all hope of evasion. Armour peeling off in layers as sparked flames flew wildy into the rushing air, trailing off into the wind.
Their attitude had been more suited to that of a hunter, than to that of a soldier up to this point.
Expecting their prey to be without intellect.
A dangerous presumption indeed.
Something which has never been true for any prey.
The two craft exploded in tremendous showers of white and green light.
The yellow jet let itself fall with it's aggressor's sharded husks, faster and faster now again towards the surface. Speed gaining.
The yellow pilot had plans.
The wings of that MK3 Dispatcher turned up, and that jet soared across the vally, sending a tidal wave of wind pressure crashing through the fields of grass and lone trees that just escaped their demise.
It soared. Not to anywhere that it could see. But to a place.
That it could almost feel.
The shadow of Mount Yarnasan.
YOU ARE READING
World In Turmoil
Science FictionAmongst the empires of the galaxy. Between the factions and the territories. On a rustic world left to itself. A young man had heros once... They were a force sworn to protect. They were a navy of saviours. In a time of need. ...
