Flack filled the sky around the gunship. Clone pilot CT-8743, aka Ric, along with the rest of the 909th Gunship Wing flew, undaunted, though the flack. He could see the surface of the planet below. It was a cold, rocky, dead world. He had seen a hundred worlds like it in his scant year of service, and if he survived this latest brush with death he would see a hundred more, the war wasn't ending anytime soon.
A shark crack echoed though the atmosphere, . Ric turned his head to the left. The gunship next to him went up in flames. The hit was dead center. He felt relief. All the troopers in main cabinet were dead men, along with the gunners in the ball turrets, but the pilot and co pilot,Rut and Tet, his friends, might survive.
The wing stayed the course, seemingly unmoved by the loss of their comrades. The flack intensified at mid attitude. Now the "fun" begins, that was what they all said right. The gunships took evasive maneuvers, always making sure to stay in visual range of their comrades. Nobody wanted to be alone for the next part of their ordeal. It was the same on every dam drop Ric made.
Fighters 11 o clock, his co pilot, Four, called out. He glanced in that direction. He could see faint specks rapidly climbing towards the attack wing. His gunner didn't ask permission to fire two of the gunships rockets at the approaching craft bellow. Ric saw at least one of the fighters go up in a ball of fire. The others kept closing. Their shapes were now better visible to him, Separatist Vulture fighters.
"Hostiles dead ahead", shouted the wing commander. "Seps approaching at 5 o clock:, another pilot yelled onto the squadrons coms. The flack still filled the sky. Enemies on our six! Closing rapidly!" yelled one of the pilots. "The droids are boxing us in!", interjected Ric.
The wall of fire sprang up around the gunships. To his right and left he could see his comrades go down, plummeting towards the cold merciless surface below. "Scatter!", he shouted into the coms, justifying his cowardice as he cut his powers, and allowed his gunship to descend. What choice did he have.
They slaughtered them all. Like animals. He could only watch from below. Then they came for him. "Hold on this is going to be rough!" He yelled as if anyone would hear him. He swerved the gunship hard to the right. Doing and weaving he made his way though the night. His gunners did their jobs splendidly. Enemy fighters fell all around them. But more kept coming. Hold on Hold on. He thought, sweat gathering on his brow.
"Missiles incoming!", Four cried breathlessly. He doged to evade, but they followed him. The gunship spun out of control. "Were going down!", he yelled. He could hear their screams. The troopers, his turret gunners. His vision blurred. And then their was nothing at all.