Pilots: Dagger Squadron [M]

[Kach]

Day 7:Near Jupiter Space: Escort Assignment

Hazard Level:Violet

It had been a quiet trip so far, the pre-flight had explained it likely would be up to this point. The small convoy of battered freighters with their escort approached Jupiter’s tears in a column.

“Remember, every freebooter you take out there is a bonus on your contract.” Jayson Ackerman’s thick rough voice crackled over the encrypted Dagger wing comm channel. The normally clear signal was starting to be affected by interference from the debris field of smashed ships and metallic asteroids.
“And if any transports are lost, it comes out of our pay.”

To another human, it may have sounded like he was talking to teenagers wanting to take out the family car, but the tone was lost to the aliens. Truthfully, he was; cautiously optimistic. They were all skilled pilots, they had done hours of training and drills; but training could only prepare you so much. A new team, they had not yet been tested in combat. No matter how good a team looked on paper, or how well the members got along, Ackerman had seen baptisms by fire break many promising units.

“Bat, you have the lead on this one while the Crate is out of contact. We will RV on the far side of the field and keep an eye on the perimeter.” The interference increased, static now threatening to overtake the words.
“Do not get separated from…”

Ackerman’s voice trailed off into a waterfall of static. The Daggers and the convoy were now isolated in Jupiter’s tears. The metallic remnants of a human trade dispute decades past, dragged along by Jupiter’s Magnetosphere had become a hunting ground for Freebooters.

The seven freighters they escorted had made this trip many times before, and bore carbon scoring and hull patches to show for it. The small transportation company couldn’t convince any Earth officials to allow UNE vessels to escort them despite previous attacks, so they had to contract their own security, and Dagger Squadron was all they could afford.

The metallic debris field played havoc with ship board sensors, reflecting heat and radiation, swamping even military grade hardware with fields of contacts while the larger wrecks and asteroids broke up visual range to spotty outside a few kilometres.

“Transport Lead to Dagger Escort,” The voice of the Convoy leader crackled over the local comm channel. A human that went by Captain Sidonus. A tight staccato of words, he seemed like an anxious man at the best of times. “Keep your eyes open. Freebooters are crawling all over the Tears. We are paying you all a mountain of creds to get us through in one piece.”

[Enigma]

Silence reigned inside the modified patrol craft, thanks in a large part to all the air being pumped to storage tanks. Only Toril could hear the harsh crackling of the radio in her ears, still so foreign to her. Her race were telepaths, exclusive to themselves, but even they had limits - she could hear only her own thoughts.

"Bat, aye," Toril spoke. "Received RV on far side and watch perimeter. Say again your last on no separation."

The patrol boat was only lightly armored, so to protect her craft from the shattered debris field of dead ships and rocks, she'd turned on her shields, gently nudging the smaller stuff away from her ship and therefore creating a path for the others to follow. The power drain was enough to slow her down, not that she minded as it gave her recon systems more time to analyze the readings from in front and beside her. Still, she could feel the tension in her wings and back.

Hopefully any would-be raiders would keep away - missiles were crazy expensive. The dealer had made her a small bargain on two in her pod, she hoped they weren't duds.

[Fox Xalian]

The cockpit orb of the Unrelenting Cyclone, Bythe's personal fighter, was alight with various hologram-like interfaces, some showed various statistics of the ship such as ammo count and how much damage and were said damage was, others appeared to be how Bythe controlled her craft, based on the fluid, flowing movements of her tentacles and how the fighter responded. "Unrelenting Cyclone copies, keeping watch on sector 03.01, no contact yet" she said, her voice having a ethereal, bubbling sound, like you might hear when an Earth squid propels itself away using a jet of water. She moved one of her holograms, checking her weapon status. All four kinetic miniguns were armed and ready, she moved the hologram back to where it was. She put one tentacle on a disc shaped hologram and rotated it, making the gyro rotate, causing the weapon mount arms to rotate around her bubble. Her final checks were complete, and she was happy everything was working properly. This fighter wasn't exactly fresh off the line when she was gifted it by a Calamer Resistance General who knew her father, and she'd had to settle for some Earth parts, mostly for the weapons on her hardpoints. As she watched her scanner she noted some interference. "Dagger Lead, do we know if the Freebooters have jammers or anything that can interfere with our scans?" she asked over the radio.

[Yggdrasil_Hugger]

His shoulder itched, as it often did. Right where his stump met the prosthetic, his flesh had regrown around the complicated mess of wires and nerves, resulting in a seamless, but itchy, replica arm. His tail blade twitched impatiently, making a quiet ding on the metal side of the cockpit. The radio hissed and crackled with interference from Jupiter’s magnetosphere. He only caught snatches of words, a “do not get separated from…” here and a “sector 03.01” there.

“Black Star copies. Come back on last orders? Damn mag-sphere’s got us breaking up.” Three sets of eyes scanned the ancient space junk, searching for Freebooters in a way a human’s eyes couldn’t. Periodically he glanced down at his readout, ultraviolet lines indicating movement. None so far, except for the convoy.

The convoy. Years ago he would’ve been on the opposite side of the conflict, testing the merc escort for a weak spot and breaking through to the goodies inside. Nowadays though, he was going straight. Well, straight-er. The creds were good though, and not having to look over his shoulder at every turn was better. Heg was still after him, but who wasn’t the Heg after in this part of space? Nobody worth having a drink with, that’s for sure.

[AngelDellaNotte]

Soran lay on her stomach on the pilot bunk, it was more of that than a chair. Many people found this style of ship cramped and uncomfortable. It definitely wasn't the claustrophobic. Soran loved it though, she had always felt uneasy in open spaces. Spending years in the tight mines and chutes it was familiar to her. She had been known to sleep in her ship rather than her bunk quite often. The first time she had ventured off world it had been on Foju transport ship the crew deck had holographic picture walls that allowed you see into space as if there was nothing in front of you. It had terrified Soran, the fact that she stepped foot on another ship bound for space was amazing. She kept to ships without holographic walls after that and found the view from the cockpit was better. The smaller view made her feel like she was in a chute looking out in to the mines and she felt more comfortable. Strange it was like that, years of imprisonment making her feel safe.

She heard the captain's voice crackle over her comms and wondered why he was speaking to them like younglings. The captain was another oddity she had found off world. He looked Kytherian but he wasn't. He was something called a Terran, she had been quite interested in learning about them. Something others found odd as many mistook her as a Terran. It made her think of the old tales the nursery maids would tell about the Brightons. It was a old story about how the Kytherians were once Brightons stolen from a fair away land. Soran had never believed the tales thinking they were something to keep children entertained. Much like All Saints Eve when St. Lucia would bring fruits to the good children and St. Valentine would haunt the dreams of bad children. Nothing more than a child's story.

Captain Sidonus' voice came across the comms next sounding just as bad if not worse. The debris field was really causing havac with the systems. She was currently on the edge of the field about midway up the convoy. Perhaps she could boast their comms with her own. She leaned over to the control panel and booted up the system sending a signal out to the ships in the convoy. “Captain we can try to boosting the comms through the Bolt and might get a better transmission.” Soran said, across the line.

[Kach]

No reply came from the Crate, only the bits of conversation between the escort craft, punctuated by static. Bits of debris, from individual bolts sheared off by explosions, to sections of plating, bounced off of deflectors and hulls in the silent void as the convoy advanced. Radar screens looked light the night sky filled with shooting stars as contacts flashed to life, then disappeared. Outside the ships, torn glistening metal floated, spun, and danced, twinkling as far as the eye could see.

A faint high pitch whine was audible in the background of Soran's, Dagger 4's, reply to the Convoy Captain Sidonus, but the message over the local channel was otherwise clear. Broadcasting on the local channel was riskier than the encrypted tight beam the Dagger Channel used, as any local craft with in a few hundred klicks could tune into the signal, but it was the only way to stay in contact with the convoy clearly using the Bolt as a hub to brake through the interference. Otherwise the wing could only communicate among themselves.

"I don't know what you did, but that sure cleaned up the transmission Dagger Four." Captain Sidonus replied using the transponder IFF codes they has been given to identify their escort ships. "All transports check in."

A few moments when by as five more cargo ships checked in, reporting no enemy sensor contacts. Then there was a long pause before Sidonus spoke again. "Transport Seven, what is your status?"

The line was silent, save for the occasional static hiss and the whine of Bolt's signal booster at close range.

"Lieutenant Calvyns, respond!" The man sounded nearly hysterical, his anxiety reaching a fever pitch. "Daggers! Please go confirm Transport Seven's status!"

Spoiler: Transport Seven's Status 

The transport at the rear of the column is still in the column, and all seems well at first, but a quick scan shows their main power has gone out and they are drifting. A quick look around the exterior turns up no damage and no sign of attack or Freebooters. It is likely the old freighter had a power plant failure and wasn't able to radio in before the comms were boosted, but that can only be confirmed by docking with the drifting ship and speaking with the crew.

There isn't time to halt the convoy and transfer the cargo even if there was room for it on the other ships and none of the freighters can effectively tow the disabled ship.

The convoy could maneuver to halt the drifting vessel until repairs can be effected, but it would likely put their arrival time hours behind schedule and the convoy would be sitting ducks if any Freebooters showed up.

Or the convoy could abandon the vessel to its fate and continue, keeping on time and on the move, but possibly incurring a penalty for abandoning the ship, its crew and cargo.

[Enigma]

"Get off of this channel!" Toril snarled. "If we all leave to find out what 7's problem is, that leaves the rest of you vulnerable to attack."

Any moment now, Dagger Actual was going to order the two closest 'daggers' to investigate, but even from here her sensor pod would be picking up debris from an attack, possibly ice clouds from escaping air.

It could have been attacked by a breeching pod, made out of plastics with little metal, harder to see without going to the synthetic aperture, but she doubted it - those pods were more expensive than missiles and it got nasty real quick if air started venting after they cut through the hull.

[AngelDellaNotte]

Dagger two was being a bit snippy, Soran thought but she did have a point. If they all moved to find out what happened they would be exposed. “Dagger Actual, Dagger Four can move back to investigate.” Soran said, over the comms. She wasn't a heavy fighter so her moving around wouldn't weaken their defenses as much. She held still for a bit waiting for orders but did stare at her scanners planing the best route back to transport seven. With all the debris floating it would be a task in itself. Luckily the Bolt 3 was small and could weave between easier than the larger ships.

[Fox Xalian]

After realizing something was wrong at the back of the convoy, Bythe spoke up. "Dagger 1 to Dagger 4, I can help with investigating, if nothing else then to provide you some cover to focus on seeing what can be done" she said. There was no way she would let her teammate do this alone, or let the end ship be abandoned. As they waited for Dagger Actual's orders, she winced as she heard a small microasteroid, and old screw or something of similar size, strike her ship. She quickly looked to make sure it hadn't cracked her bubble, a sigh left her as she saw no such damage had been made. This area would be horrible for her ship, mostly because right now they lacked a reliable way to get more water into the bubble.

[Kach]

The pitched whine of the open boosted channel was silent for a few moments, it was clear Toril's snap had silenced the nervous Captain for now. The radio popped and clicked, but no orders from Actual came. Was there too much interference from the field? Or was it a test of their abilities? Either way, the convoy and Dagger Wing would have to help themselves.