>>5666124Tumbling through space like an ungainly drunkard (or Master Larid on one of his worse days), the <span class="mu-i">Albatross</span> careens bow-over-stern as four of the cannons open fire. Bits of stray debris pings off the deflector shield, rattling the hull like a tin can of sardines. Darkness rings the edge of your vision as you can suddenly feel the blood rushing to your legs. There’s an audible THUNK – you turn to find Ceyla passed out from g-lock, but there’s nothing you can do to help her from your current position.
Elba and Trykov curse over the line. The dodge might’ve avoided the worst of the attack, but it’s left both of the gunners almost impossible to play point-defense. All they can realistically do is spray wildly, hoping that they’ll be able to catch at least some of it before it hits-
<span class="mu-s">KA-BOOM!</span>
The ship suddenly leaps forward as if kicked by a giant’s boot. With the inertial dampeners off, it’s all everyone can do to avoid from getting whiplashed as your heads slam back into their seats, and the blood suddenly rushes back into your skull. Through the cockpit, the field of stars shifts crazily above your heads, and direction loses all meaning before Suzel hurriedly stabilizes and accelerates away.
Ceyla suddenly stirs back to life, careening wildly as she swallows her bile with a hoarse retch. “<span class="mu-i">Eurp</span>…did we get hit?”
You grimace, shaking off the cobwebs and darkness around your vision as you strain for the console. “Damage report! How bad is it?!”
From his turret, Elba releases a triumphant, mighty roar. Thankfully, Trykvo fills you in: “We’re alright! Elba shot one before it hit us, but it was pretty damned close – the shields took a beating and the blast scorched the aft, but no penetration!”
No armor-through, but the ship’s on-board systems have taken a beating. One of the power couplings got knocked out of alignment, and life-support nearly short-circuited. The garage for the speeders is jammed shut, and won’t be opening without a plasma cutter. All that and more, but tender mercies where they are – you’re still flying a relatively undamaged ship.
The relief is palpable for all of a few seconds. S-19 shrieks as a shadow appears on the radar, bearing hot on the ship’s aft.
“He’s on us!” shouts the Clone.
Suzel doesn’t need to be told twice. By the time he’s accelerated to max speed, you’re already dialing in a mayday. Another mark of a good Jedi is to know when you’re in over your head. “Jolt-Squadron, convoy, this is Albatross-actual. How copy?”
Jolt-Leader lets out an obnoxious whoop across the line. Unprofessional and somewhat forced based on his inflection, but it does have the effect of raising everyone’s morale. “That was some hot-shot flying, Albatross! Who the hell’ve you got behind the stick?”
(cont.)
