Xero Edge
Chapter 1 -
Tyorin banked left and watched his under-camera as the high energy projectiles zipped past with all the effortless energy of zero-g combined with high powered magnets.
"Your gonna have to do a lot better than that!" Tyorin yelled into the comm. Turning his fighter over onto its back mid-bank, slamming the throttle forward and pulling back on the control stick as hard as he could. As soon as his fighter started reacting to his overbearing requests he pulled the throttle back almost to the point of stalling out his own plasma engine.
The reaction was brilliant; his Blade swung upwards and upside down, bringing him around, facing down his old course. Ending right-side up with both of his quad-barreled mass drivers facing directly at the stunned fighter pursuing him.
Tyorin pulled the trigger and let loose all the fury that his dormant rail drivers held within. Watching with grim satisfaction and a twisted smile as the red-hot heavy slug rounds ripped off the starboard stabilizers of the opposing fighter and dug deep into the plasma storage unit it used to restrain its potent fuel.
Tyorin released the trigger and slammed his throttle forward again, snapping past the enemy fighter as it tumbled helplessly. Ending its own life as the plasma engine ignited and consumed the poor ship in a white-hot ball of fire.
"Three more…" Tyorin panted, looking for the next fighter…
"Tyorin!" A piercing scream invaded his senses. "Turn off that damned video game and get the hell out here to eat diner!" His mother's scratchy voice toned down as she inhaled again and turned on her heal to leave the room.
Sighing, Tyorin reaching behind his seat in the cockpit of the aging, yet complex fighter, and flipped an invisible switch. The deadly fighter flickered and faded from around him, leaving only his own poor taste in decorating to show the world to him.
Numerous posters of the famous Blade fighters blazed across his walls. The Beastslayer logo of the renowned Kiith Somtaaw shown proudly over the backside of his door. However, the door lay open right now from his mother's intrusion and the logo presented itself proudly to none other than the dark wall it faced.
He stood from his seat, pulling his earpiece out with his left hand and brushing his hair with the right. Stretching, he sighed again as he looked down at his one form of stress relief and freedom. "Pointless…" He pointed out to no one in particular and stepped from his place, clipping his headset back to the seat's headrest.
He stepped out into the hallway and turned left, looking down the hall at the light coming from the kitchen. To his right now was the door to Elliay's room, his younger sister.
Elliay was the only one, in Tyorin's opinion, out of the entire Kiith that didn't absolutely despise Tyorin's simulator practice. Much to the contrary of his parents, whose room lay at the end of the hall now behind him.
He started walking, rolling his eyes as he stepped out into the kitchen. He prepared himself for the bombardment he was about to receive and stepped past the kitchen out into the dining room.
His father was the first tonight. "You were playing that game again?" his words more of a pointed statement than a question. He aimed his fork at his son and tried to speak clearly through his food. Following up quickly he tried not to give Tyorin a chance to reply, "What did I tell you about wasting your life in those games?" His father spoke calmly and slowly, as if dully stating fact.
Tyorin rolled his eyes, "I'm not wasting my life, dad." He pulled his chair out from the opposing end of the polished wood table.
Truth-be-told, Tyorin was actually rather proud of his achievements tonight. The simulator he was using had the latest software installed to mimic the performance of the inner-rim renowned Hiigaran Blade fighter and its much-feared match, the Taiidani Triikor fighter.
He had been training himself with that simulator for the better part of two years now and, unfortunately, his Kiith's great lack of love for all things that concern war had labeled him as an outcast the moment he stepped through his home door; beaming from ear-to-ear with his new simulation software in hand. His own family was no exception to this, and his mother and father had grown increasingly hostile towards their own son and his 'game' over the last two years. Tyorin's look turned sour as he ran over these thoughts in his mind.
There was no real reason for them so resent it so much, right? He'd been training to try and secure his own career as a matter of fact, and his father was the very one who told him long ago to shoot for his dreams.
Of course back then Tyorin's 'dream' still resided out in the fields, working with his father.
Tyorin tried to think of other things and lightened his mood a little when he remembered that the last fighter he shot down was his eighth in a single simulation. He had read sometime before that the best record from the Sobanii pilot school was six on one, so he was two ahead of his studies right now. Plus he still had three other fighters on his tail; so in a way, he mused, he was five ahead of schedule.
He smiled inwardly, though careful not to let it show through. Tyorin settled down into his chair and looked at his plate of luke-warm food. His stomach lurched as he picked up his fork and buried it in the pile of potatoes on his plate.
His mother looked up from her plate to see Tyorin merely stirring his potatoes around, "Don't look at it like that! If you had been out here on time it would have been nice and hot. But as usual you decided to stay in your room and play your games."
Tyorin steadied his breathing, not wanting to let his lungs get too greedy. Getting on that he was getting angry would only start another confrontation with his parents. He was lucky to be on speaking terms with them again. Which, by the way, had only just been re-assumed three nights prior, when Tyorin promised not to practice for a full twenty-four hour day. "It's not just a game mother; it's a very sophis-"
"Oh just shut up with your 'sophisticated' garbage about that game! That's all it is…" she looked back to her food, "…a game…" she stated quietly, wondering where her son was headed with the path he had evidently chosen for his life.
Her anger rose again when she couldn't figure out where she had gone wrong in his upbringing. "Stop trying to turn it into something that it isn't!" she added a moment later, trying to vent some of her anger.
Tyorin's own anger quirked a bit; all that happened now, however, was that his face reddened a little. "I apologize, mother. I'll just eat then go back to my room so you don't have to deal with my games…" he ran over his mother's statement, "and all that garbage." He stopped curtly, showing a bit of his terse tongue to his mother, which his father was quick to act on.
"Don't speak to your mother that way young man! You're lucky to still have a roof over your head the way you treat her and I!" his fathers own face reddened a little.
Tyorin took the blow from his father in passing and finally picked up a fork-full and raised it to his mouth. No sooner had he placed the steel between his teeth did his father speak up once again.
"And no you won't be going back to your room after diner, all you would do is go straight back to that game." He said in a rather matter-of-factly tone as he lowered his eyes from Tyorin back to the plate and loaded his fork again before continuing.
Elliay cringed a little in her seat, knowing what was coming.
"Instead, you're going to help your mother with the dishes then you'll come outside to help me with the rest of the work on the fields for tonight. Then you'll go to bed." He paused momentarily. "There'll be no more playing that game until I say so, is that understood?" It was painfully clear to Tyorin that his father's last sentence was not a question.
His reaction, as only could be expected, could be considered less than pleased. Until he says so? Tyorin stood rather abruptly from his place, his fork rattling away on the hard wooden floor below the table and his chair nearly tipping over behind him. His head was dropped below his shoulders, looking down at his quickly forming fists. "What makes you think that I was going to go back to my room and play my game?" his voice shaking from the anger he was trying desperately, and failing, to repress.
"Why wouldn't I go to sleep? Huh?" Tyorin raised his eyes to his father's face and shot plasma at him, his father's returning look was stunned. Of all the times they had gotten into arguments with their son, Tyorin had never looked quite like this before.
His father pushed himself up from the table to meet the incensed Tyorin, though he couldn't hope to reach his son's point of influenced rage, "You sit back down right now young man! I will not toler-"
But Tyorin cut him off, having had to deal with his parent's constant hate of his love for flying since he first discovered what a plasma drive could do. "Is it an eternal sin to want to make a life for myself?" Tyorin's rage finally getting the better of him, "Sajuuk knows I will never be able to eke out a living for myself as long as I stay in this dump!" his fist punched the table to emphasize his last word. "I play that Qwaar-damned game so I can get into the flight academy! I know you don't have the money to pay for tuition and even if you did, I know you still wouldn't pay for me to go! I have to impress the Sobanii instructors if I ever want even a chance to get in!"
Tyorin had gone over his breaking point, "Don't you understand that I have absolutely no interest in the agricultural life!" he heaved, "I don't wanna be a Qwaar-Damned Farmer!" he quite literally screamed his last three words at his father and his fists pounded the table on his last word.
His mother literally retracted from his use of the God-of-destruction's name, let again its use twice. His younger sister sitting across from her mother stayed stock-still. She had been silent during the entire confrontation in the vein hope to stay neutral, but things like this always have a tendency to involve the entire family.
Elliay had always enjoyed watching her older brother work on the simulator in his room. She would sneak out of her own room at night on occasion so she could watch Tyorin perform in the darkened space. It was always better to watch at night because Tyorin could turn on the extended projectors on his simulator so as to fill the whole room with the expanse of space. And there was no experience quite like lying on the bed and watching her older brother rip apart the Triikors which raced about.
She had always been nervous about supporting her brother because of her parents. And she was sure they knew she did but they had not pressed her over the issue. She reasoned that as long as she didn't herself participate any further than watching, they considered her old enough to make some of her own decisions.
Tyorin kicked his chair out from behind him and stormed back to his room. His mother sitting at the table fuming and his father still stood at the head of the table, astounded at his own son's audacity. His decision was made then and there, he turned to his wife, "We have to do something about that boy and his game…" his face still glowing red, his wife slowly nodded and stood with Elliay. Diner sat on the table, losing heat.
As much as they hated the things that Tyorin loved, Elliay knew they didn't hate him. They were just as mad at themselves for letting such a thing happen. Many a night she had seen her mother cry herself to sleep over what Tyorin was doing.
Her father had confided in her once during a drive into town that on top of the Kiith's hatred of war, their family lines had been cut completely by the destruction of Kharak and their father and mother both wanted nothing more to do with anything concerning war. And while that was over three generations ago, the feelings were just as strong as the moment their great, great grandparents had awoken from their long slumber. And while that didn't exactly tell Elliay the whole story, she took it as enough and didn't press her father on the issue any further.
Tyorin's younger sister hustled away after her brother. Their parents went to their own room to discuss the latest development concerning their eldest child. She knocked twice, "Tyorin?" she asked gently at the door.
An audible sigh came from beyond, "Come in Elliay."
The younger girl of sixteen opened the door cautiously and stepped inside. She closed the door behind her with equal care, nervous that any excessive noise would set her older brother off again.
After she closed the door she merely stood there like a timid animal. This show of anger from her brother had been one of the worst yet. Last week there had been four arguments between Tyorin and their parents. Elliay noted to herself that things were progressively getting worse, not better as Tyorin had promised.
Elliay spoke first, "Tyorin…" was all that would come out, her saddened tone carrying through the room. She worked up the courage to continue after a few moments pause, "You promised me that you would try to stop fighting with mom and dad." The young girl cringed a little when she mentioned their parents to her most likely still enraged brother.
Tyorin sat across the room with his simulation seat turned to face the open window. He was leaning back in the chair with his head laid back against the rest, his eyes glazed over a bit and starring longingly off into the starry night sky. His model Blade fighter held in his hands, painted a deep-crimson red in contrast to the ever-sky blue that shone from the model box in the corner of the room. He looked more saddened than angry now, not that Elliay liked either expression coming from him.
Tyorin turned his chair to look at his younger sibling, "I know I promised Elliay, and I'm sorry about tonight." He sighed, putting together his next words, "But, it's hard to do anything in the same room with them. They just can't get over it."
Tyorin felt his anger twinge inside himself again and leaned forward in his seat. Elbows resting on his knees, hands gripping the model he held. Tyorin's anger rose again as he ran over the nights events in his mind. The fighter creaked and groaned under the pressure that Tyorin was unknowingly submitting it to.
Elliay walked from the doorway. Heaving herself up onto her brother's bed, she leaned over and reached for his pillow. Seizing it; she held it across her chest and rested her chin on top with both arms crossed around the pillow, holding it against herself.
She looked back over to her brother; seeing him seething at the thoughts of his parents, the same parents Elliay had and loved. She was sure that Tyorin didn't really hate his parents; he just hated some of the things they had done. And likewise she knew their parents didn't really hate him; they just hated what he was becoming.
This fight tonight had been one of the worst yet, and she had only seen her brother so angry once before, two weeks ago when his father walked into Tyorin's room when he was working away at the simulator. Things just went downhill from there.
Their parents tried to stay out of Tyorin's room for the most part now-a-days, mostly because they couldn't stand to see all the posters and pictures of the Blades and Triikors all over the walls. That was how much they hated the whole idea of war; they couldn't even look at mere pictures of war machines.
Elliay had a vague understanding of why they were so pacifistic. Tyorin however, had no such admission from his father to help him understand, and so he had been left in the dark. Elliay wanted to tell him so much, but her father had sworn her to secrecy after what he told her that day.
As far as Elliay was concerned, Tyorin could do anything he wanted to, so long as he was happy with his decisions. It didn't matter to Elliay if Tyorin became a fighter pilot, sure it was dangerous but that wasn't enough reason to hate the idea entirely.
But what they were the most afraid of was losing their son. Elliay guessed that was exactly what was happening, and trying to force another outcome, as they were trying to do, was only accelerating the process.
Elliay saw Tyorin's expression turn from pure anger to a saddened expression again, now being merely laced with traces of anger here and there between thoughts. "What are you thinking Tyorin?" she asked somberly, praying to herself that she hadn't crossed some line by asking, possibly in Tyorin's eyes, what was too sensitive or personal of question.
Tyorin seemed to have been broken from his reverie at his sister's odd question. He looked inquisitively at her, almost as if searching for the answer there in her eyes instead of his own head.
"What am I thinking?" Tyorin repeated back methodically as he looked back to his model and realized the pressure he was subjecting to it. Slightly loosening the grip he held on it, he leaned back into his flight seat, letting his head come against the rest a little harder than normal. It hit with a soft 'thump' and he turned his eyes to the stars that still blanketed the otherwise bare, black sky.
He looked back to his sister after a few moments, pleading with his eyes, "Please understand Elliay… I'm not trying to abandon you, mom, dad or anyone… I'm not trying to abandon the Kiith." Tyorin's sight wandered back to the open window. His feelings pouring out to his little sister.
Though she was younger, she was bright for her age and understood things many years her senior. And having her undying trust of the 'ever-perfect' figure of her older brother, Tyorin had found it so much easier to confide in his sister than he had found in anyone else. His Kiith's rejection of him didn't help his ability to make many friends either. And the friends that he did have abandoned him as soon as they learned of his growing interest in flying. He didn't want to put his sister through the feeling of abandonment because he knew what it was like.
He had to be sure that Elliay understood this.
Tyorin felt compelled to share this personal insight with his sister; for fear that she would lose trust in him if he didn't. Even though knowing the friends he used to have left him because of the Blade fighter, part of him was sure Elliay would not do the same to him.
He didn't want to even begin to imagine what would happen if she ever found out that he was afraid of her following his "friends'" example. However, Tyorin was really too self-conscious to risk it.
His eyes faltered a bit, "I just feel so out of place…" he looked to Elliay over on the bed, who had lifted her head from the pillow in interest. "I feel confined, and I'm quickly getting claustrophobic. I need to get out Elliay…" he paused his thoughts. Wrestling with the monster in his mind, knowing what it was, "I need to get away." His realization to himself came too fast to keep it from coming off his tongue.
His eyes widened and the Blade model clattering to the floor.
Elliay's eyes widened as well as she processed her brother's meaning, "you're gonna leave?" her eyes were wide with shock more than surprise and the shock itself was quickly being drowned out with sadness. Tears quickly began to well up behind her eyes, threatening to pour over her brother's pillow. "But Tyorin," She snuffed out a sob, "You can't just leave!"
Tyorin had been planning on going to the Sobanii Flight School sooner or later. He had always assumed it would be later because of his parents. But having put all the pieces together in his head finally, something he had been reluctant to do because he knew what it would mean. He knew he would have to finish his training himself and then go to the school on his own. He couldn't count on anyone helping him, he was on his own. Elliay was the only one who ever seemed to want to help him, and as much as that was appreciated, it only came in a limited sense. She could only help him so far.
A tear escaped its creators control, landing on Tyorin's pillow.
Tyorin reached down to pick up his fallen model and had already spun his seat around to face the wall before he caught his sister's reaction. He bent over and placed the model on the ground to the simulator's side before standing. Walking over swiftly, he jumped up onto the bed, landed with a heavy thud right next to Elliay. She bounced a little, meriting a small chuckle as she righted herself. Tyorin skill for lightening his sister's mood had always come in handy on nights like this.
Elliay looked up into the dark-blue eyes of her hero. Tyorin looked back into the innocent stars that shone at him. Elliay accidentally let another tear stream down her face as she latched onto her brother's waist, "You can't just leave! You can't just leave me here!" The girl was indeed scared of being left alone, and Tyorin was entirely at fault for that fear.
Tyorin was the one that was always being left alone and behind. And just like all younger siblings do, Elliay saw her brother going through all of that and tucked it away in her mind. She knew what it did to Tyorin and she didn't want to go through any of the same things. Though she knew she was taking a risk supporting her brother, she knew that if she abandoned him, it would be the last straw for him. That thought scared her the most.
Tyorin pulled back from his sister's embrace and looked at her, "listen to me Elliay," he paused as he waited for her to finish her sniffling and look up at him, "I'm not leaving anyone, and I won't be really leaving for a while." He looked back to his simulator, "and even when I do leave, I will always be there for you." He shifted his gaze back to his sister.
She dropped her gaze to wipe her tears from her eyes with the back of her hands. Her face stayed down when she spoke again, "I understand Tyorin…" she looked back up to him, "I really do understand… and when you do go…promise me…" she blinked, one last tear escaped her. She looked from the simulator to the now closed window then back to Tyorin's face, "Promise me…. You'll fly as high as you can…"
Tyorin blinked twice then smiled gently, "I promise, you can count on it." He pulled his sister in and hugged her tightly. She would be the hardest one to leave.
Elliay smiled under her brother's loving embrace. He pulled back away from her and looked back at her, "I hear those Sobanii instructors can give real hell…" she smiled as a puzzled look came over Tyorin's features, "So you'd better get back to work." She nodded her head towards the simulator, emphasizing her last word.
Tyorin followed her nod with a glance and found the simulator. He smiled again when he looked back to Elliay. She smiled back as he jumped off the bed and walked over to the simulator.
He flipped a switch on the back of the seat's headrest and the projectors started their work. A low hum sounded as light began to swim and gather around the simulator. The lights flowed together in an upward spiral until converging on a single spot directly above the chair. Tyorin looked at Elliay before taking a seat in the chair under the apex of light.
Elliay smiled as he glanced back and lay forward on the pillow to watch Tyorin do what he loved.
Once in the seat, the small sphere of light still swirling above the seat exploded and drew down around the chair, surrounding Tyorin in a virtual cockpit. Sitting in the chair he reached down to his right and pulled up the forward console from its clipped position on the side of the seat. He snapped it into position and gripped the two control sticks to his either side. He lifted his feet from the floor and tapped the front of the seat with his heal. The seat rolled back onto its gyro as four foot pedals extended from the front of the seat. He placed his feet on the pedals and Elliay came back to his mind, smiling he put one foot back to the ground and pushed off to spin his seat around to face her on the bed.
Her smile widened as the simulator spun so she could see her brother.
Tyorin pulled his foot back to the pedal he reached to the right side of the headrest and flipped another switch. A faintly louder humming sounded as the external projectors booted up. Shortly after, a brighter light flashed from the sides of the seat and shot to the ceiling, slowly moving its way back down, painting his ceiling and walls with the expanse of space.
Golden suns shone from a side of the room as blood-red nebulae shone from the other; both sides seeming to compete for dominance of the middle of the room. Stars stuttered the blank space in-between both phenomenon. Tyorin started the boot-up process for the last simulation he was running.
He looked past his HUD to Elliay as she lay on the bed admiring the vivid decorations covering the room. He smiled as the controls to his left beeped twice, showing the system was booted and ready. He lifted his right hand over to the sequence controls. His mother had interrupted his last battle and starting from where he left off would be useless and starting from scratch was always better anyway. The more practice the better… he thought gleefully to himself and his index finger pressed the engage sequence switch.
The seat immediately lifted slightly on his gyro to give the impression of being afloat. Tyorin switched the sound over to the head-piece he pulled from its cradle on the headrest, placing it over his head and fitting the left earpiece into his ear. Next, he pulled out one of his two portable head sets and tossed it through the virtual image to Elliay still lying on the bed.
She nearly fell from the bed reaching to catch it. She pulled the headset over her ears and resumed watching the start up sequence.
"Fear My Skies..." he whispered to himself before clearing his head of any thoughts not related to the coming battle.
He listened to the virtual plasma engine of his blood-red fighter purr behind him, accelerating the chassis toward the approaching 'X' formation of eleven standard yellow Triikors.
He pulled up and to the right so as to come at the approaching fighters at an angle, spear-heading an 'X' formation of Triikors alone was akin to suicide. At least doing so from the direct from was defiantly suicide. Coming in at an angle was slightly less suicidal; which is just what Tyorin was planning to do.
When he reached the angle desired, he pushed his engine to its limits. Seeing his speed estimation readouts were the only way to tell his speed since he couldn't feel the G-forces in his simulator. He also had to rely on the readouts to give him other critical information regarding the status of his fighter.
The formation of Triikors began to swing around to present more of their accumulative firepower to Tyorin's rebellious fighter. He saw them expertly pull the two furthest legs of the 'X' around to bring their guns forward.
He was ready for such a tactic however and turned to blast through their center fighter. He judged that the distance he had gained in his initial approach, plus his angle of approach and their formation's turning angle meant they wouldn't be able to track him properly as he closed.
On top of that he reasoned that taking out the lead fighter would throw their command chain all over the place, if only for a few seconds.
But just the same, those seconds on the field of battle always took an eternity and were almost always, for a fighter pilot at least, the difference between life and death.
Tyorin reasoned that the benefits outweighed the risks, so he took the chance. His fighter turned towards the center of the formation as they were turning. They began firing their mass drivers at the single, quickly approaching Blade fighter, but to no avail. Tyorin had been correct in his quick calculations and all the enemy rounds slid through empty space, directly behind Tyorin's fighter.
The center fighter came into his crosshairs and Tyorin unleashed Hell in the form of his dual, quad-barreled mass drivers. The red-hot nickel-iron slugs flew for the Triikor, its position in the center of the formation also meant it had little room to maneuver for fear of hitting its comrades, unfortunate for the virtual fighter.
The melon sized slugs zipped just to the left of the Triikor and began sweeping to the right. The rounds hitting the nose weapon housing, shattering the chain linkage inside before moving on towards the cockpit, with was equally battered, the light protection the ferro-glass window provided stood little chance against the onslaught of Tyorin's rail-drivers. The cockpit shattered, instantly disabling the fighter. The rain was not over, however, and further swept back along the spine of the fighter until the rounds reached the primary weapon housing on the left side of the fighter.
As Tyorin witnessed the rounds tearing into the Triikor's main weapon he saw on opportunity and quickly acted on it. Making a minor course correction he angled his fighter so the last of the rail rounds would hit the right side of the fighter, opposite the main weapon.
The large bulk off to the side served the Triikor three important purposes; one, it helped to pull the center of gravity between the main spine and the primary mass-driver which in turn helped give the fighters the unique ability to "roll-the-gun".
The second purpose was the plasma that flowed through the container in its storage loop to keep it from solidifying until it was sent through the literal blast furnace and blasted out of the rear of the fighter.
The third purpose, which was the one Tyorin was taking advantage of, was that all the munitions for the fighter were stored in that highly volatile little bottle.
Tyorin let a sly grin slide across his face when he witnessed what happened next. The metal slugs ripped into the containment area mercilessly, sparks emanated from the fighter's right side in torrents.
The Triikor took three quarters of a roll before Tyorin rushed past, racing his own shots straight through the enemy formation. The disable fighter finished its final quarter roll before the ammo stored ignited in a hellish orange ball; obliterating the fighter and pushing the four fighters to its ten, two, four, and eight o'clock position outwards.
The pushed fighters slammed into their counterparts next in line in the formation; damaging three and critically damaging the last. Unfortunately for Tyorin the chain didn't continue further out, but he was sure that if the explosion had been larger it would have. He pushed the thought to the back of his mind to explore further at a later time.
Now that he was behind the very confused formation of Triikors, Tyorin decided to take advantage of their predicament. He ripped back on the control stick to force his fighter to swing upwards; he cut the engines as he did this, causing the back of the fighter to swing out from behind him. It was Tyorin's own version of "rolling-the-gun", which the Triikors so much enjoyed.
His ability to use the enemies against themselves had been one of his biggest advantages in his training in the past two years. And he continued improving his skills.
As he swung around, the top of the left-most arm of the 'X' came into view. Tyorin unleashed his rail guns once more, throwing scattered shots at the confused fighters still reeling from his last attack. The furthest fighter in the formation was hit multiple times but failed to detonate due to the differing angle of the shots narrowly missing vital areas.
The rounds continued to sweep further towards the center of the formation and the second and third fighters were not so lucky.
The second fighter taking mostly engine hits lost its plasma shielding around the reactor and storage and succumbed to the perilous release of the plasma fuel. The plasma burst explosion rippled out; further damaging the outermost fighter and the whipping debris sheared off the primary mass driver of the last Triikor. With its center of gravity thrown completely off, the pilot had very little chance of making a difference in the rest of the battle.
The third fighter however had already turned to face Tyorin's Blade when the slugs began to pummel it. The cockpit was the hardest hit and the pilot would have suffered from much the same fate of the ferro-glass, which shattered outwards. Unlike the previous fighter, however, Tyorin was not in complete control of his blasts at this point in his roll and so the aft ammo storage unit was not hit. The fighter floated helplessly, bereft of a brain to control it.
Checking his screens as his fighter wheeled around, he saw no armour loss or damage and so trading his trigger for throttle, he pressed on.
Elliay may not have known the first thing about fighter combat but even she could tell that if a pilot managed to damage three fighters, destroy three, and critically damage two others on their first run without taking any damage; they were doing pretty good. She smiled at Tyorin and the determined look she saw on his face as his simulator seat whirled him around into her view again.
Tyorin didn't have to glance at his speed estimations to tell he was moving quite quickly. The enemy fighters had finally regrouped as he charged at them. The undamaged Triikors now held a spread-out 'Switched Delta' formation to avoid any more damage from friendlies. The second formation was a staggered 'wall' formation which was occupied by the damaged units. Making the total count five damaged Triikors in the 'Wall' formation and three in the 'Switched Delta' formation.
Tyorin checked to himself that he would have to start targeting enemies individually to take them out now. Even against the damaged fighters because every-other slot in the 'Wall' formation was left unoccupied thanks to the stagger they had applied to it. Both formations were still very dangerous however and Tyorin would have to be cautious now that he faced two separate fronts.
I have to get them together, or at least line them up. Tyorin veered his fighter towards the quickly approaching 'Delta'. Gotta get past 'em!
Tyorin pushed his throttle to afterburner as the 'Delta' grew closer. The three Triikors not relieving their firing in any way lest they risk letting Tyorin get another shot in. This was fine by him as he wasn't trying to knock them down just yet anyhow.
Veering to the left to avoid more fire he set loose a few quick shots to the close, left-most fighter of the 'Delta' to get them to fly to Tyorin's right. The corralling worked, much to Tyorin's delight, and the three fighters in the 'Switch Delta' moved in front of the 'Wall' of damaged fighters; preventing them from directing their vindication toward Tyorin's Blade.
Tyorin banked hard left as soon as he saw his corralling attempt bear fruit. Both formations turned to make chase. The 'Wall' formation lagged behind, waiting for the more damaged fighters to keep up. Tyorin pressed into the afterburner again to get some distance between himself and the pursuing 'Delta' wing.
After gaining the space he desired, Tyorin pulled back on the control stick and slowed his engines enough to give his fighter the rear sliding properties he desired, getting him turned back the way he came faster.
He looked down his sights and saw the approaching 'Delta' wing with the 'Wall' not too far behind. Tyorin made his decision of targets and centered his crosshairs on the wobbling center fighter of the 'Wall' formation.
Waiting a split second for the 'Delta' fighters to get a little closer to his center crosshairs, he let his rail-guns spit out a hellfire of slugs toward the center of the 'Wall'. As he started firing he also pressed back into his afterburners yet again, rushing toward the enemy formations in an attempt to break past the 'Delta'. The 'Delta' fighters began firing wildly at him. Startled by his choice of targets and trying desperately to defend their comrades from his fiery rain.
But it was to no avail, as the damaged fighter could do little in the way of quick, complex maneuvers to avoid Tyorin's fire. The rails rushed into the Triikor with little heed for the damage they would undoubtedly cause. The slugs slammed into the main mass-driver to the left side of the Triikor's spinal line; shredding whatever armour it had remaining and igniting the munitions that had been stored there waiting to be fired. The ammo ignited and the port-side cannon exploded. The explosion tore into the main spine of the fighter as well, causing it to tumble through space, disabled completely.
He watched the Triikor he had damaged spin and tumble out of formation, leaving a large hole in the 'Wall' formation for him to slip through.
He jutted his fighter down and up again to avoid more enemy fire from the near point-blank ranges of the 'Delta' wing. A few stray shots glanced off of his port-rear armour, doing no real damage.
Tyorin whipped past the 'Delta' wing and was thoroughly surprised when the 'Wall' formation kept the hole open and opened fire on him, making no attempt whatsoever to close the gap. They either want to keep it open for me, or keep it open to further avoid more damage to themselves.
Tyorin was surprised next to see a flash of light come from behind him. He snuck a glance behind him to see the 'Delta' wing had quickly spun around to come after him and one of the fighters had been hit by friendly fire, tumbling sideways shortly before exploding.
Apparently the 'Wall' fighters had been more surprised by his choice of targets than the 'Delta' wing had been. Tyorin let a short snicker out as he slipped through the hole left by his last attack. The two remaining fighters from the 'Delta' wing swept outwards and around the 'Wall' formation and moved to an even 'Broad' formation as the 'Wall' fighters tried to recollect themselves and turn their formation around again to face Tyorin's Blade once more.
Their command structure has to look like crap right now, and no doubt the two good fighters are bitching the hell out of the damaged fighters for killing on of their own… Tyorin let a slightly longer snicker escape his lips and quickly recounted his kills as he put some more distance between himself and the remaining fighters.
Leaving only two undamaged fighters, two damaged, and two critically damaged, Tyorin checked his fuel supply and was not happy to see himself almost down to one-third his original supply remaining. He had to finish this quickly…
Abandoning the afterburner idea to conserve fuel, Tyorin flipped his fighter onto its back and ripped back on the control stick again, pulling his Blade below the pursuing fighters. The undamaged fighters tried to follow the move but failed as the upgraded Blade rushed past beneath them, heading back toward the damaged 'Wall'.
Unfortunately for Tyorin, the two bottom fighters of the 'Wall' were not the critically damaged ones. Tyorin lined up another shot and fired a thick spread sent to sweep the two partially damaged Triikors of the bottom row of the 'Wall'. The slugs showed true and impacted the bottom fuselage of the left fighter, ripping off the two bottom rear stabilizers and tearing open the drive vents towards the back. Which would normally have severely limited its maneuverability but the open drive vents effectively robbed the fighter of all engine power; stranding it in space.
The stabilizers on the Triikor were crucial for the maneuvering of the fighter in space, as the plasma vents on the end were an excellent innovation by the Taiidani engineers. The offset maneuvering thrusters gave the Triikor an even sharper learning curve but gave it even more complex dog-fighting abilities to the aces.
These AI virtual fighters weren't bad but they were far, far from ace. But then again, it was just software...
The shots swept further and clawed at the second Triikor sharing the bottom row. The heavy slugs ripped into the bottom of the fuselage in much the same way as the first fighter. But the angle of impact was closer to being strait on, allowing them to pierce into the light armour.
The shots sheered off the front muzzle of the forward mounted weapon and moved backward to impact underneath the cockpit. The zoom allowed Tyorin to see at least two slugs pierce the soft under-armour of the Triikor and slice through the cockpit. The fighter tumbled, giving out to inertia and the lack of a controller.
The two disabled fighters continued tumbling, uninhibited by the void of space… at least until they collided; releasing more plasma and igniting ammo stores. The two fighters tumbled together momentarily before detonating in a large incandescent orange fireball.
Tyorin released the zoom and watched the fighters end each other's misery. A costly mistake, as that second brought a great rumbling through the frame of his fighter.
Tyorin felt the rumbling turn to quaking as he recognized the weapon's fire. He looked above and saw the two remaining undamaged fighters bearing down on him, hard.
He broke off his charge and banked hard left. Checking his readouts, his propulsion was cut by a third and right-way handling would be a problem. He cursed his rookie mistake and continued his left bank, trying to break the pursuing fighters from his flank; a fruitless attempt as they could now easily keep pace and outmaneuver him. He instead followed through with his bank until the remaining two critically damaged fighters came back to his view, exposing their rear flank to Tyorin's rail-drivers.
The critically damaged fighter on the right side of the now 'Broad' formation came into sight range first and Tyorin let out a full barrage into the crippled Triikor. The fighters leaking plasma drive succumbed to the punishment and overloaded, engulfing the fighter in its blue-white fury.
Tyorin saw bolts of munitions zoom past his cockpit and knew that the remaining good fighters had closed and were doing their best to finish him before he destroyed the last damaged fighter, and another comrade.
Tyorin would not be stopped this far into his attack however and swept his guns to target the remaining critically damaged Triikor. The fighter gave into his assault quickly as the nickel slugs pounded into the aft portion of the fighter, it tumbled and small explosions could be spotted all along the internal portions of the drive system. More rounds hitting between the main drive portion and the cockpit. Plus the added stress the fighter induced onto itself as it tumbled became its own death sentence as the two halves of the fighter were torn apart from each other. The cockpit half tumbled helplessly as the drive portion detonated shortly after separation.
Tyorin smile faded as he was reminded of the fighters following closely behind. He felt the hits getting progressively worse until suddenly his cockpit view was whisped away and he looked at his fighter from a distance, still being pounded by the pursuing pair.
The Blade ignited as it passed amongst the debris of the Triikors it had ravaged only moments before. The two fighters passed the explosion on either side of the debris field.
Small, black, block letters appeared before Tyorin, "Simulation Ended… Rebooting System…" Tyorin repeated back to himself as he read the words aloud. Those words were what always reminded Tyorin that he was still back at home; in his small room, merely fooling his senses with the mimic of surrounding space that he longed to truly fly through.
Those words were also a harsh reminder that what he was doing was defiantly not a game. The words came up abruptly, and without any feeling. Unlike those in a game, which so often faded into view with giant blood red letters. Taunting the user, and adding insult to injury.
Tyorin sighed and flipped the 'disengage sequence' switch.
The virtual world around him faded to black as the holo-projectors whined down and the bright lights around him from the sun and competing nebulae vanishing to nothing. He folded back the foot pedals and command console then stood from the chair and stretched. A mild smile crossed his face as he looked over to Elliay who saw upright on the bed.
She tossed back the headset she had used and smiled to Tyorin, "I believe eleven against one with a nine fighter difference is a new record…even if you did lose."
His smile widened at her optimism, remembering the last record he had read from the Flight Academy. "It may be a record, but I still want to best twelve before I go." He reminded her of his goal as he hung his own headset back against the headrest and snapped Elliay's headset back into its compartment along with the last spare.
He looked back at her as he scooted the seat into the corner of the room, "you had better get to bed, it's getting late." He checked his watch, he saw it read only around nine o'clock but he was already tired from the night's events. He needed a way to get Elliay out of his room… "And you have school in the morning." He continued weakly, knowing she would see straight through it.
She smiled at him and stood from his bed holding the pillow in one hand, stretching. She walked over and hit Tyorin in the side of the head once with the pillow before handing it to him. "Punk…" she smiled and turned on her heal to the door. She took a moment to admire the Beastslayer logo before quietly opening the door and walking from the room, closing the door just as quietly after her. She was cautious not to make too much noise as she entered her own room, lest she alert their parents that she was in Tyorin's room instead of already sleeping.
Tyorin smiled, shaking his head as he walked over to his bed. He stood at the foot and launched himself in the air, pulling the pillow up to his face. He landed with a heavy thump and bounced a few times before settling down in his place.
He looked over the posters of fighters emblazoned over his walls and smiled inwardly, "Just three more Triikors…" he mumbled quietly to himself before rolling over and closing his eyes.