Welcome to Gaia! ::

Steven was caught off guard when Istvan drug him to the front by his collar, so he did his best to not fall over as he hopped along after the old man. He was about to protest when the old man stopped and Steven took the chance to straighten his flightsuit. He was going to ask why the hell the scientist had done that, but he was cut off before he even started by the announcement of his temporary executive command of both Green and Red Squadron for the operation.
“Uh, the Reds are not going to be too pleased with this,” he thought to himself as he looked at the pilots he would be commanding. After a few moments he went back to thinking of strategies, but a siren broke his concentration.
“Alright, Reds, Greens, we have been practicing for almost two months now, so it is time to prove once again why we are the best. Saddle up! See ya in vacuum,” Steven said as he dismissed the pilots to go finish readying their Sabers before turning to Istvan, “Sir.” With a nod to the scientist, he himself turned to go to his own Saber.

As he hoisted himself up onto his new fighter, he allowed himself a moment to admire the finely crafted ship. He also was liking the new paint job the fighter had received, his long time phoenix emblem was now replaced with the new wyvern emblem. He had also taken the time while painting to add a subtle scale pattern to match his scars, he thought it was clever.
“These seats are much nicer than the ones in the scimitars,” he thought as he fastened himself in. He looked out of the cockpit to try and get a visual that all of the pilots were almost ready, but he noticed that his count was off by a few. “Hmm, they are just behind the other fighters,” he thought casually as he went back to finishing his preparations. He looked up and stared blankly at the front of the cockpit. “Huh, hiding fighters behind other fighters. Possibly,” he thought casually before setting back to work.
“This is Green Lead, pilots sound off once you are ready to fly,” Steven said into his comm as he fastened his helmet on. “Oh, and Red Squadron, no hard feelings, I look forward to flying with you.”

All systems are green. Ammunition, full up. Paint? Could use a new paint job, assuming I come back. Johnathan's hand reached out and activated the new SF-X-24 Saber. As he made sure that personal preferences were uploaded properly, he mulled over what he was just about to do. 'Fly in, run like hell past the defenses while the other guys act as a meat screen, blow the thing, run like hell again. Huh. Reminds me of that old Space Opera classic. Except without that Force to help me. Damn, this sucks.' Upset, he sat there in his cockpit mulling over how things were against the odds, how reality was nothing like the movies. How this was a suicide mission. And then something clicked together in his mind in one of those moments.

"Hey! I we can't be certain we'll win like the guys in the movie, or have their snazzy psyker powers, but we can have the music!" he spoke to himself. Green Five checked his playlist on the music system he installed earlier, and found just what he was looking for. Music for the occasion. As he briefly played the music to make sure it worked and then turned it off, another thought came into his head.

'How many of those guys got fragged again?'

Still, he couldn't help saying, "Green Five, standing by." right on his cue after Emma sounded off. He knew, absolutely knew he was a sucker for these kinds of things.

Inwardly, Javier frowned as he sat in his Saber's cockpit, waiting for the order to launch. Keeping his breathing rhythmic and calm, the Frenchmen listened to the explosions of Drathonian guns and beams impacting on the hymn's shields. It wasn't the possibility of dying that annoyed him, nor was it the thought that this was an obvious trap. No, what annoyed Javier was all the waiting. The constant waiting for combat, and behind able to hear the sounds of the battle, feel the impact from the enemy's weapons on the ship, only made it worse.

"Red France, standing by."

“Siberia, I am still going to be depending on you to direct the Reds for the most part,” Steven said to his Red counterpart. The cue finally came, and it was time for Steven to once again lead his pilots through the gates of Hell. He briefly found himself wondering if Rhiannon would also be flying with them in the battle.
“Alright Saber squadrons, it is time to fly. Form up on my six once we are out there. Fred, you stay on my nine,” Steven announced across the comm channel. Then without another word, Lieutenant Kerning shot off out of the hangar in the state-of-the-art Saber fighter.
As he passed out of the hangar and out of the Hymn’s artificial gravity field Steven reveled in the familiar feeling of flying in zero gravity. It had been almost two months since his last real flight, and he realized just how much he missed the feeling. However, now was not the time for idle thought, and he focused himself on the growing battle. Out of all the battles the veteran pilot had seen since joining the navy, this one was by far the largest and most chaotic. Allied and enemy fighters were everywhere, and there was already a large amount of debris littering the battlefield.
He carefully surveyed the carnage trying to adapt his strategies to this new theatre of war. There were a massive amount of enemy fighters, that was to be expected, but it was the sheer amount of frigates, battleships, and destroyers that worried Steven. “If the swarm enemy fighters don’t get us, then it will be the cannons on those larger vessels that take us out; if we manage to get past those as well, then there are still the defenses on the shipyard, not to mention the Demonix II’s already active defenses we need to contend with. Even if when we manage to blow up the core of the Demonix II there is still the matter of getting back to the Hymn which means flying past the same defenses we had to deal with on the way in, except now with our rear flanks exposed. Is command going to just order the other squadrons to fly in as meat shields? Or do they expect us to get back fine on our own?” said the thoughts that rushed through Steven’s mind. “Do they even expect us to get back at all?”
“Message to all squadrons in the area, this is Lieutenant Steven Kerning of the Battle Hymn’s Green Squadron. I need to get my Sabers to the core of Demonix. This will be no small feat, so I hope I can depend on you for assistance in the coming battle. Green Leader, over and out,” Steven said in a broadcast message that was sent to all squadrons in the area before switching his comm back to its typical closed channel. “Saber Squadrons, the plan so far is to fly in from below to try and minimize the risk from the larger enemy ships. Stick close to your wingman and use the debris to your advantage. The other squadrons are going to be lending us a hand. I want this done right, so use teamwork; I don’t want any solo running or showboating. Understood? Good. Now let’s get to work.” Steven said as he relayed his working plan.

Back on the bridge of the Hymn, another Kerning was formulating a strategy for taking on the mammoth enemy. Any semblance of doubt had left Sean’s face long ago as the aging admiral set to work. He was now fully immersed in the holographic display of the battlefield as he went about positioning his fleet.
In his time working on the bridge of capitalships before his retirement, Sean had seen the holo-displays used many times, but in those days it was only his job to navigate the ship to wherever the commander of the vessel directed. Now it was his turn. Within the nine foot diameter holographic globe Sean had complete control over positioning. He could make the display larger in order to focus on specific areas within the battlefield, or he could make it smaller for broad control of the fleet. Every time he moved an icon to a new location, the information would instantly be turned into code and sent to each ships respective navigator as coordinates.
As the battle got underway, Sean began positioning the holographic silhouettes of his fleet of ships around the three dimensional display. Despite his age he moved with a certain grace, and his hands flowed from place to place like a conductor directing a symphony. Every time he would grab a new ship a parade of colors would appear before his eyes as the ship’s specs and vitals were displayed in front of him. All the while he was focused on his masterpiece tiny specs of light flittered all around him. Each spec was an individual fighter jet, each one a working and vital piece of the bigger picture.
“UTR Battle Hymn, proceed to coordinates X(346.535) Y(725.742) Z(076.545). Our fleet is to push forward to try and draw the fire of the larger Drathonian vessels. They likely aren’t fully aware of our plans yet, so it is imperative that we keep the attention off of the Saber Squadrons for as long as possible.” Sean announced as he continued his waltz. Even though he was able to give directions to the Hymn as well, and he could theoretically direct this battle while remaining completely silent, he still made it a point to direct his own ship personally. For it was not just a commander’s job to direct a fleet, but also to instill confidence into the ranks of his men.

Ira couldn't help but grin at the sight in front of him. This was the stupidest thing he had ever done and he would be the first to admit it. The target was seemingly unbeatable, the task was undoable and risk was unbelievable. The young man laughed loudly and kept on his captain's tail as they flew onward.

"Magenta Squadron... We got this. Just make sure that you don't pull any unnecessary stunts... Ira."

Ira chuckled. It wasn't his fault that he liked to show just how amazing of a pilot he was. The kid couldn't help being the best and he needed to prove it. He spoke back to his squadron in a smug voice. "Sir. I promise that I won't pull anything to unorthodox today. Just going into this fight is the worst choice I've ever made."

They were getting closer to the target and Ira was beginning to wounder if he really should try something. This might be his last chance after all. The flashes of cannons, guns and who warning lights were all around them now, they were closing in on the target. Evasive action was being taken but Ira stayed right on his captain's tail, just like he was suppose to. They weaved around wreckage and enemy ships, blasted at the lizard's when they got a chance, but not to much was happening yet. The captain came back on the line.

"Boy's run straight up the middle, Then we'll bank left, opening up that line for the others. I want Magenta 2 above me, 3 behind him, 4 behind me and five... Five on my 9."

Ira moved to fly beside his captain, Now able to see the whole experience for himself he shook his head and focused. This was suicide, complete and utter suicide. Magenta 2 spoke up, the sound of a deep voice filled the speakers.

"I think that-"
"Magenta 2 is down. 3..."
"I'm good."

Magenta 2's star ship had been blasted apart nothing was left alive... One of the cannon's on the ship they were passing had hit him. He was dead. Ira bit his bottom lip and continued on. There was nothing he could do now, he just had to continue.

“Hold off on using Solaris. As you said the turbolasers will do the job just fine.” Sean replied as he continued to monitor the evolving battle. “You don’t want to go using your ace too soon.”
A flashing red icon caught his eye. It was coming from one of the ships in the fleet indicating that the ship wasn’t going to last much longer. Sean quickly directed the ship to pull back and fresh ships to cycle in. He began adjusting the formation of the fleet to a defensive formation that utilized the Central Place Theory with the Hymn at the center and branching out to smaller ships in a hexagonal pattern.
After moving the final ship into position he collapsed the three dimensional map for a better view of the field as a whole. The Battle Hymn fleet was pushing forward; the second allied fleet was pushing forward as well off the Hymn’s starboard; and the third was spreading out along the rear flanks of both fleets, ready to move ships into the gaps created by other vessels destroyed on the front.
“UTR Battle Hymn, remain on this course. Reduce speed to fifty percent. We are to continue forward and then proceed to port while descending at a rate of thirty-five percent,” Sean said, announcing his intentions to the crew.

“Siberia to Operations Leader, are we pushing on or fighting back?” The Red Leader sent his message to Steven before turning his attention back to his own squadron.
“Maintain formation for now boys. Only stop to kill when necessary -” Siberia paused as he and Poland slipped out of their lead position and brought the full force of the new fighters down on three Rex's that had singled out a lone scimitar. As the Drathonian ship's exploded and the individual frame's began to pull apart into scrap Siberia and his wing rejoined the formation. “ - then immediately slip back into place. The Demonix is the main objective of this run about and we're not going to leave Green Squadron finding itself alone just so we can test out some new toy.”

–
Albania snarled at both his new orders and his commander in general. He's putting me out to pasture! Damn it, I've kept my record clean – never been caught – and now I'm gonna be grounded because of Pot Belly decked me for talking some little girlie!
Surging past an earlier kill, Albania flew by a Scimitar and Rex locked in combat to meet one of the newer Drathonian fighters. As Hungary had obeyed orders and already fallen back into formation the dog fight was one on one. Albania turned sharply as the enemy's attacks thudded against his shield. The Drathonian pilot responded in turn, keep tight to its prey's curve and out of range. Then, suddenly stopping, Frasheri got the jump on the scaly b*****d, ripping through the fighter's backside and blowing up its engine.
Only the did the pilot respond to his orders, venom in his voice. “Albania, rejoining formation.”

As Green and Red squadron tried to force their way to the DEMONIX, they were met with extremely stiff resistance. For every fighter the Hymn's group launched, the station launched two. And there were those new fighters, as well, large as a Scourge, quick as a Rex, they bore heavier weaponry and a small turret to boot, making them quite a fearsome foe in deed. From every crack, crevice, hangar, and bay in the station, fighters seemed to be pouring forth, nearly innumerable, though nobody had time to think about that.

Steven, being in the lead, had been accosted by two of the contraptions with turrets, a missile exploding right near his shield grid, and was locked in a struggle with a set of very good pilots. Fred had been diverted away by another, keeping the wing pair from helping each other, as those turrets looked too dangerous to ignore.

Johnathan Flandre, for his part, had been accosted by a squadron of scourges, and while the fighters had nowhere near the manueverability or firepower of his craft, they had as much shielding power as he did, making them quite a foe on numbers like this.

Aracdia had been broken off from Green squadron by a Scourge and a Rex, and while that was normally no trouble for her, she didn't have the help of her wingmate for this one, the young girl having been broken off by a half squadron of Rex fighters. Arcadia could only work to get rid of her current foes before she could have a chance to help Emma.

Red squadron wasn't doing any better, two full squadrons of Rexes having gotten past the under-strength Scimitar screen, which proceeded to pair off and split up the entire squadron, two Rexes to a Saber, which would prove to be quite a handful. Siberia and Ruze, especially, seemed to have been targeted by the better pilots in the group, and were having their own skills tested quite severely.

Whatever was going on, it was obvious that the Scimitar screen wasn't enough, and it would take several minutes for reinforcements to arrive, as more waves made their way down into the Squall of fighters. However, two things would appear on the Squadron leaders' screens that would relive a little bit of stress: two squadrons, labeled E:G and K2:G respectively, identified as Saber squadrons. Obviously, Red and Green weren't the only squadrons outfitted with the new fighters, which were making Micro-FTl jumps to close in on the battlefield, but they too, would take a while to arrive.
******

Admiral Evelyn observed the battle through the Hymn's sensors, making minr changes and inputs into Sean's plan, though all this did was help follow his orders better, her increased awareness of the battlefield a valuable tool in telling when a ship was in danger or not. The deadly ballet continued, the Hymn at the center of several rings of dancing starships, all firing away madly at their enemies, which were firing back just as fiercely, though it was obvious that they lacked the coordination of the Terran battlegroups. Losses happened on both sides, but it was obvious that the Terrans were doing more of the hurting, even as reinforcements arrived for the Lizards, ships in varying states of repair and construction being pressed into battle with understrength crews in a desperate gamble to fight off the well-versed attackers.

The Gynoid, as she sat, suddenly perked up, having recieved a message via one of the communications personnel, an encrypted FTL comm from several light-minutes away. She smiled, though, combined with her somewhat wearied face, it was a grim one. "Sir, Operation Tunguska has been sighted. Our primary checkup shows approximately 90% accuracy, though we failed to hit our primary target. When shall I activate Tunguska?" she asked, her brilliant blue cybernetic eyes appearing to stare through Sean Kerning, almost directly into his soul.
******

Emma almost said something, but stopped herself, the effort and concentration she needed was a more important use of the energy. Her fighter halted suddenly as if she had hit a very solid wall, narrowly avoiding several laser blasts from her enemies, before boosting straight 'upwards', thereby avoiding several more. A quick tumbling roll to her left, and a missile was dispatched by her exhaust, but she was far enough away that it didn't even touch her. The young girl smirked, Juking and diving a few more times, before she jigged herself into an odd angle, and began firing her Gauss cannons and Laser cannons at specific intervals, while her fighter spun and juked, twisting and turning in ways that contortionists could only dream of, and the girl watched the results of her efforts, she had managed to take down the shields of two of the six enemies, and done shield damage to the rest, but, even with intertial control, a small drip of blood began trailing its way down from the girl's nose, and she grimaced in pain, knowing she could only keep this up for so long before she was hit and destroyed.