>>6113132With the enemy fighters gone and every one among them exhausted and spent, Red, Blue, and Green Flights turn and begin their return journey, while you return your focus to your immediate surroundings. And to the little world inside you.
And it is indeed a world. Miles of corridors, machinery spaces, mess halls and kitchens, cabins and wardrooms, a CIC, a bridge, a machine shop, convenience stores, gedunk bars, coffee stands, endless stowages, an armoury the size of some lesser ships, a hangar large enough you could have fit a attack submarine inside with room to spare. And everywhere is bustling with activity. With… little people.
Your first impression is that they look like dolls. Their heads are oversized, bodies strangely round, eyes big and dark and beady. Sort of mouse-like, actually. Perhaps the right word might be sprite. Or fairy.
A ship needs a crew, and here is yours.
>[1] Time to get some goddamn answers. You still have a battle to win, but everything about this whole situation and your very existence gets weirder every time you look at it, and you really need to have a handle on what the fuck you are and what the hell these crew pixies are before your strike mission reaches the enemy fleet. >[2] Your crew sprites aren’t going anywhere, and you have a battle to win - ask a few questions now, but keep your focus. The last thing you want to do is let another pilot come to harm on account of your inattention. >[3] Write in. (You have about 12-15 minutes before your main strike reaches their launch point against Fleet 1.) 