Blockade Running
2508 Near Athens - Delilah
Crew: Lazarus, Rachel, Pipes, Kevin Chow, Helena Rook , Juan and Shanta
Delilah was filled to the gills with “small comforts” as Lazarus called them: booze, porn, films, make-up, sweets, all the sorts of things that got extra hard to find in times of war. Laz anticipated quite a bidding war for the various lots earning them a pretty bit platinum when they put down on Athens. If they put down on Athens. At the moment they were being chased by a couple of Alliance fighters apparently opposed to them bringing some small comforts to the Independents.
Lazarus tapped the comm from down in the cargo hold.
"Rachel, would you be so kind as to lose these gorram Federalés, all this bouncing about is rattling my brain case."
She couldn't help but grin. "Get ready to hold on," Rachel answered calmly as 'Lilah rocked as one of the fighters lit the air nearby. Out of the corner of her eye she caught movement; the other fighter was trying to flank them.
'Lilah growled as Rachel banked hard into him, sliding the freighter underneath the other ship for a moment.
"Shoot me now," she muttered to the other pilot. Delilah couldn't glue to the fighter long but it gave them a tiny breather for her to look for her options and a bit of time for Pipes to rev up the ship's secret weapon.
The sounds of the metallic hull straining against g-forces as the ship banked were barely audible over the rhythmic thumping of the engines as Pipes multitasked. With one hand he tweaked the mix in the main reactors allowing the core temperature to reach but not exceed the threshold of overload. With the other he was "priming the pump" and increasing the internal pressure of the Burner Tanks. Once they reach the appropriate pressure he'd signal the lovely Rachel, who could then get that little extra burst if they needed it.
"Shanta?" He called to the unseen deckhand.
"Yes Chief?" The solidly built Indian woman, her hair tucked under a Londinium Lions Cricket Cap, garbed in oily coveralls called back.
"You're gonna need to release the pressure on the number five grav rod."
"I'm not seeing anything, it looks good to..." As she spoke there was a sound like an old oak tree creaking in strong wind.
"How do you do that Chief?" She marveled, moving to shift the distribution of pressure.
"I've got an ear for it. Give it time you'll get it too." Pipes encouraged. He was hoping Shanta would move up full time from deck hand to assistant Engineer. Only convincing Laz to shell out the extra cash was never easy.
A series of staccato drum beats, followed by an angry whine of sirens and flashing lights alerted Laz and Chow on the cargo deck to what they already knew. One of those fighters got a lucky hit and peppered the ship with high density slugs. The self sealing hull was not doing the job all that well, and the ship was losing pressure. They had a few moments to get in behind the cargo, find the holes and seal them before the depressurization might seriously damper their spirits.
Chow saw some fluff in the air flying to the port, a sure sign that was where the breach was. He donned a breather mask and moved to the hull side, squeezing between two massive containers. He could hear the high pitched whine of precious air escaping. Peaking around the corner, he saw flakes of dried and useless sealant fluttering about in the vortices created by the three small holes. The were about a foot and a half apart.
Wode tìan! (Oh Sky!)
"Captain, grab a size 5" He screamed into the comm. He turned to see his captain, hair a mess, his traditional cowboy hat lost in the maelstrom holding a size 6 emergency breach plugs. He was not wearing a mask. These devices looks like metal sheets with couch cushions glued to one side. The two of them maneuvered the plug over the three holes. It took a few tries to get it to sit properly. Each time they covered them, there was a sudden popping as the wind stopped. With extreme effort they dislodged it, opening the ship up again to the black, then finally finding the right place, lodged it neatly over the breaches. Chow reached for the pull tab, and pulling it firmly caused the instant sealant to liquefy momentarily then form a tight bond to the ship's hull. Laz looked a little blue from holding is breath so long. But he gave a wry smile. And surveyed the work.
On the flight deck a new threat loomed, the patrol ship, from which no doubt these two fighters came, appeared on the scanners from behind Whitefall, Athen's Moon. Between its missile batteries and the fighters hemming her in. Delilah was caught between a rock and a hard place.
"Well hell," Rachel muttered as the screens in front of her lit up with a view she didn't want. APECs were one thing; patrol ships were another. She rolled Delilah after the fighter, knowing that it would disconcert the pilot to have the mighty freighter shadow him, even if she were a tad slower.
~But not by much.~ Pipes was the maestro of engines and Delilah's thrummed reassuringly under her as the freighter rolled deftly with the fighter. "Come on, you can do better than that," she mocked the pilot, maneuvering closer, stalking him. She had to have him start concentrating on how she was doing it, how the freighter was holding on to him. . . . If he'd just bobble, she could drop Delilah on him, flame him in the ship's massive exhausts. Then she could deal with the other fighter.
He was gaining on them as they rolled through space and she didn't relish anymore slugs pounding into her lady. The patrol ship could be ignored for the moment. Her prey rolled again and she smiled gently. He was starting to fly like he was the one being chased. She was in his head now.
Delilah was more agile than anyone would give her credit for, you just needed to know how to coax it out of her. The fighter predictably banked back towards the patrol Ship, trying to get out of her trap. "Running home to mommy, boy?" As she followed it, a flurry of warnings flashed across a screen: weapons locks from the patrol Ship. Those missiles would do a lot more damage than those slugs. Still, they probably wouldn't shoot with her this close to their fighter. Rachel had a moment’s hesitation. She might keep a step ahead of them for a bit longer, but three on one. This was a losing battle.
Just then a green light flickered and glowed from big light attached to the hefty looking makeshift lever on the floorboards to her left. The Burner Tanks were full and ready .
Rachel smiled. "You're mine now," she muttered to the fighter pilot as she released the lock and yelled into the comm, "Grab on somethin' everyone!" Then she pulled back on the lever and felt the explosion as the ship lurched forward. The fighter was caught in the fiery exhaust and tumbled off the screen. Delilah sped headlong at the patrol ship which launched a volley of missiles... too late. They couldn't regain their lock before Delilah sped by, mere meters over the patrol ship's bow.
Athens filled her field of vision, proximity, collision, and stress alerts hammered simultaneously in Rachel's ears. But she tuned them out, feeling the ship move as an extension of herself, solid, reassuringly sliding through the Black as she asked her. She could almost "feel" the patrol ship beneath them, sense its bulk as she skated its bow. She grinned like a madwoman, exhilarated and happy as she angled 'Lilah towards the planet and the people waiting below.
The Burner Tanks exhausted their fuel shortly after Delilah entered Athens’s upper atmosphere. The view turned to fire as Rachel trimmed the pitch and sent Delilah into a steep, though graceful, dive towards the planet's surface. Rachel noticed a couple radar locks form on her as she did, probably Independent missile systems. Her eyes narrowed.. if they wanted to shoot her down, now was their chance.
But no missiles came. It looked like the Browncoats could tell she was not an Alliance gunship. With no sign of being followed, Rachel pulled up out of the dive, and flew a few long, lazy circles to burn off any residual momentum and burner ash that may have stuck to the ship. It afforded her a lovely view of the rolling land below and she resisted the urge to see if the big freighter could survive a barrel roll this close to the planet. As it was, she wiggled the stick and in turn Delilah, dancing it through the sky a little in a personal victory dance.
The crew would bitch. They always did.
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