Bright flashes of light tore through the deep darkness of space. Escaping panels of metal from both vessels that were firing allowed the escape of oxygen, rendering large sections of ships uninhabitable.
The rogues were not smugglers in the conventional sense. Their cargo wasn''t money, or even anything that could be sold ethically for money. They rescued people. Innocents who had fallen into trouble with the legal system would find themselves shipped off to a prison planet. The rogues would ambush the prison freighter and free the persecuted party. In this case, things hadn't gone too well for them. They had moved in on the transport and their scans failed to read two stealth cruisers that were escorting it.
The command centre of the rogue vessel was interesting. It was designed so that the commanding officer could communicate effectively with every member of his command staff with minimal effort and therefore, the commander would be stationed in the centre, with his crew around him.
This ship however, no longer had a conventional command centre. It had a few controls still accessible; the rest obstructed by fire or fallen metal. The rogue commander, a man in his mid-thirties, was desperately trying to escape the remaining empire vessels, though he was still severely outgunned.
The battle had raged for close to fifty minutes now and the commander knew his only chance was to reach the edge of the empire's territorial claims. Past there, the prison convoy wouldn't risk venturing, in fear of running into hostile aliens. However, there was still a good seven minutes between their current location and the border, assuming they could maintain their speed. '
"Commander, the second wave of fighters were destroyed before they could get clear of our ship, the first group are still left alone out there. Sir, we can't carry on like this!"
"I'm well aware of that! Reinforce the rear sections of armour and continue to fire. Order the fighters to continue offensive actions. We need to take down that second ship!"
The first fighter wave had been deployed almost quarter of an hour ago and was now half the size it was when it was launched, with only six ships remaining active. The squadron leader, Pilot First Class Peter "Mars" Maxwell, was facing an impossible task; though the cruisers had only a small fighter compliment, they outnumbered their small wave and it seemed unlikely that any more fighters could be launced into the area.
"Fighter wing, move in on the cruiser - disable the engines." The order made the task seem attainable. Peter knew however, that if they did manage to do so, it'd have to be an act of God. The cruisers had incredibly powerful point defence weaponry that could pick off a fighter with ease should a pilot forget to vary their flightpath.
"Ok people, you heard the man." Peter relayed to his group. "Engage."
The fighters thundered towards the large vessel, facing down the huge weapons systems that, as they moved, were taking aim and preparing to fire.
On board the rogue ship, the commander, now weary and having suffered an injury to his side when a panel exploded near to him, was forced to take over control of the directional controls; his pilot having been knocked out by the same explosion. He tried to vary the course to prevent any locking on of weapons but the ship was so big it was close to impossible and the barrages continued.
The fighters were almost at the vessel when the seventh fighter was struck by a lucky shot. It burst into flames and then was gone. The other five were now close enough to begin firing.
"Alpha, Beta - Make a low flyby, take out some of those cannons. The rest of you are with me, we're going for the engines."
Alpha and Beta dropped in close and began to fly parallel to the ship, firing missiles and small laser weapons at the large turrets. Peter and his group flew straight over the ship then turned hard 180 and slammed on their engines, propelling them towards the ships power core and engines. The wall of fire that they were having to pass through clipped the edges of the ships and made even the toughest of pilots flinch. Too much of a contact could cause them to spin out of control, almost making a direct hit inevitable. Peter was the first to fire his warheads at the engines. They were intercepted and destroyed.
"Ok people, looks like we're going to have to get real close." he told them.
They were now only two minutes from the border. The vessel was, however, losing speed with each hit. Two minutes more would certainly be too much. Then, a lucky hit struck their power core. They dropped from full speed to the basic engines. With their speed gone, the commander knew they were in trouble.
"All remaining crew members, this is Commander Thomas speaking. Unfortunately, that last hit was good enough to bring us to close to standstill. We were still a minute and a half from the border and I'm afraid we will not be able to make it there in time now; I have turned the ship to face them and armed all missile and laser batteries. We are going to fight to the end. All non-essential personell are advised to leave the ship in escape capsules. Godspeed to you all."
Peter heard the call and shook his head, overcome with the feeling that life, and the world, had turned on them all, momentarily losing concentration and as he regained his bearings, he noticed that they were now being tailed by two hostile fighters. They were firing and barely missing them. To fight back, he would be forced to abandon their attack run and the only hope of surviving for the rogues but, if he carried on, he faced the chance that they would hit him and he would be destroyed. He carried on.
The ship to the left of him took a slight clip to the rear engine guard and began to wobble slightly.
"Gamma, this is leader, you have taken a hit, pull up and restore stability."
Sure enough, the vessel lifted and it was now just Peter and one other vessel left to destroy the cruiser. In a moment of luck, Peter dropped a rear mine and, with no time to react, one of the following vessels found themselves destroyed.
They were now only seconds from the power core. Peter armed his heavy missiles, ready to fire and lowered them for deployment. He fired twice. The result - two misses. His partner fired also with one hit, slightly damaging but not doing enough. At that moment however, his partner took a hit from the following fighter and found himself spiralling uncontrollably towards the power core. Peter couldn't watch as his friend impacted the core but in doing so, they disabled the vessel.
The commander of the rogue vessel saw the power go down. They were now harmless.
"Fire all weapons. Tear the bastards to pieces!" he ordered.
He then breathed a sigh of relief as they drifted towards unknown territory.
