Welcome to Gaia! ::

((Only question I have is when did the Reds become Yellows?))

Steven looked on in admiration at how smoothly his squadron was functioning. Greens Three, Four, Five, and Six were successfully taking out the remaining AA defenses, and Greens Seven through Twelve were reporting that between them the Blues and the Yellows that their objectives as a whole were at almost 70% completion. All that is left is to work patrol he thought to himself as he and Green Two eliminated another set AA.
"Green Squadron, finish whatever is on your plate and fall into formation," he said to the squad before pulling his fighter into a gradual spiral up and away from the derelict ship.
As his spiral began another loop, and giving Steven a wonderful view of the ship off to port(left), his comm hissed a little as a foreign frequency interupted.
"Green Leader, this is the bridge of the Hymn. Our spy satelittes have picked up a large body of unidentified vessals closing fast in on your position from the South. Intel is currently working to indentify the UV's," said an anonymous member of the Hymn's bridge crew.
"Acknowledged Hymn. Contact me when you get more info. Green Lead out," Steven mumbled in reply. Intel never seems to work quickly when it is actually needed. "Green, Blue, and Yellow squadrons, be on your guard. We have a flock of saucers closing in fast from the South. We are to continue with main objectives until further notice."

"Yeah, yeah, I know! Suicidal maniacs all wanna go get yourself torn apart and put back together again. It's like neo-masochism for all the psychotic boys 'n girls. Sometimes I wonder..." his sentence trailed off as he went out the door, and no one but the demolitions expert heard the rest of the sentence, although he had said nothing of interest or importance. After quickly examining the setup and safety of the barricades, he knelt behind the one farthest from the sentry position his squadron had overtaken and withdrew a small explosive and a ten-foot wire. It was actually just another timed charge, a successor to the popular C4. But if he removed the external plating on one side and added it to the other, it would act for all intents and purposes exactly like a claymore, which as one would expect was Hendlow's exact intent and purpose.

With the plating removed, he was able to tether the wire to the timer wiring in the explosive. Do you remember all those action flicks when someone had to try and figure out which wire to cut on the bomb? Well, to put it simply, Garrett was rigging this device so that whoever tripped the line would be yanking all the wrong wires. The timer was set for 3 seconds, for the Captain's safety. He was just making sure he'd have time to run or reset the device if he screwed up. Once the line was set, though, the explosive would go off the moment it was tripped. And to think if Garrett hadn't had all that free time on board the Hymn he never would have figured this out. Lucky them.

When it was set, he met up with Thomas. "It's right in front of the last barricade down the corridor. Be very careful. Whatever ends up tripping that wire will not survive. Even Terran medics wouldn't be able to put you back together after an explosion of that magnitude."

"Which part? The 'I don't want to be digging shrapnel out of my a**' part or the 'give me more warning next time so I don't have to worry about digging shrapnel out of my a**' part?" As she spoke, Arcadia dropped another EMP blast on those "sleeper" AA's Emma had been talking about. "They're disabled, four. No worries there. Let's swing wide to starboard, then come back up the east side, just to make sure they're all taken care of. Read you, Corporal. Incoming enemies. We're on alert. Just making sure these guns are disabled."

"Four, this is Lead. I am receiving visual via spy satellite, complements of the Hymn. One moment," Steven said in reply to Emma's confusion. Gradually a picture appeared on his HUD, zooming closer and closer to the UV. When the picture had zoomed in far enough Steven was perplexed.
"Ah s**t," he heard himself say out loud. The UVs were Rex fighter crafts.
"Green squadron, form up on double. I repeat form up. Unidentified vessels are Rex fighters," he said urgently into the comm.
He had never seen a Rex first hand, but from what he had heard from fellow pilots who had flown skirmishes on the frontier and from the naval academy Rex fights were small, fast, and mean. They also have proved in the past to easily be a match for a scimitar.
"Well, this situation just keeps getting better and better," he thought as he pulled back on the throttle and whipping his scimitar around, looking for small dots on both the horizon and radar.

Thomas nodded, moved past Garrett (careful of the wire), and started down the hallway. He did so in a wholly casual manner, the Bro resting on a shoulder and his head on the swivel, looking at everything there was to look at. On this sort of vessel, that was a lot. Supposedly the biggest vessel ever built... well, it was then. Although he couldn't really see much, he wondered how the Hymn compared to this thing. Maybe it was smaller; this was large enough to be mistaken for a building. Then again, so was the Hymn if it were buried in the ground.

Then he thought he heard something - feet on metal. In a split second it went from casual to war mode. Holding the Bro against his shoulder, he very, very slowly advanced forward, keeping his rifle trained on anywhere there could possibly be enemies. He thought of his knife on his thigh; maybe he'd need that, too.

Thomas shook his head. Paranoia. Good gosh this place was empty and quiet. He caught himself walking and breathing more quietly than he normally would have. When he tried to return to casual, he discovered that he couldn't manage it, and he couldn't go let out his frustration on the opposing forces some distance away. Perhaps they ought to gather back together and advance. Nothing had presented itself. He obviously needed to keep looking. Slowly, rifle downwards at the ground but pressed to his shoulder, he advanced.

Steven shuffled through every strategy he had learned back at the academy and every strategy his father had devised that he could remember. A Rex fighter is a nightmare for pilots, able to upset the tide of a skirmish mere moments after their arrival. And every strategy that Steven was able to think of for combating a Rex relied upon at least some support from allied AA defences.
"Green Squadron, pair off and Three through Six form up on my 12 o'clock high(above me), Seven through Twelve on my 6 o'clock high(below me). Green Two keep to my tail. Follow my lead Greens and on my signal break off into pair groups and await further instruction," Steven said calmly into the comm. His mind was still racing to think up a strategy. With an exhausted sigh he allowed his train of thought to derail long enough to wonder how his father would handle the situation.

"Roger." Arcadia increased her Scimitar's altitude, hanging just to the left and above Steven's ship. "This is Four, sir, at five til high noon. Three, be ready. Things are about to get very intense; take my wing this time." Arcadia had only made the suggestion because she was more experienced in this sort of situation than Emma was; It wasn't that she didn't trust Emma, because the girl had certainly proven her skill in the beginning of their run.

She sighed, and shook her head as she began setting herself for the upcoming engagement. She had to stay focused. EMPs were fully charged again; she'd have to make sure only to discharge one at a time, lest she leave herself vulnerable at close range. Missiles were primed, but she was suspicious of their reliability against such agile targets.