Flapper v Hogun TD: 2.4 kkk
Posted: Fri Feb 15, 2013 3:05 pm
I rarely ( hmmm actually never ) post cr’s but this one was special.
Attacker Loss: 849.960.000 Defender Loss:1.582.594.500
winnings Metal:0 Crystal:0 Deuterium:0
Debris Metal:761.904.600 Crystal:697.512.000
Wing Commander Chelf sat calmly in the captain’s chair watching the minutes tic away. Around him a dozen small holograms represented his squadron commanders. The mood was relaxed, almost melancholy.
“Twenty says they won’t be there?”
“Sucker bet. This is a slippery one by all accounts. No one’s nabbed him yet.”
“Even if he is there it won’t be much of a fight.”
“Better a turkey shoot for some helpless RIP’s than no shootn’ at all.”
“Doesn’t matter, nothing but empty skies for sure.”
Few of the commanders had seen real action. Captain Moore of the FCN Prue had seen action against Emperor Blackie, but for the most part the FlapperCorp Lunars just didn’t get out much. They were beautiful really, sleek and deadly, armed like a dragon and build for war. Multiple omni-direction specific phased inertia cannons were designed specifically for inflicting massive damage on large targets, read RIP’s. A single ship could fire two hundred rounds of compressed iron each before the other, allowing the entire three minute salvo to land simultaneously, and it could do so a dozen times in a matter of minutes.
All this and never ever a reasonable fight.
“Commander we have contact!” his tactical officer informed. Thinking it was a few hundred solar cells, his eyes began to focus on the holographic readouts. As he stood, the officer continued. “the RIP’s are there Sir, along with lots of clutter and . . . 10,000 plus enemy LG’s! All firing Sir!” On cue the flag ship rocked from an impact. All around him ships opened fire. With no direction individual valor held the field.
Osage squadrons swung low toward the planet’s surface, laying waste to the light defenses there. Captain Sims orders his wounded ship into an enemy formation and detonated self-destruct. Two thousand marines transported across the hellish divide to enter hand to hand combat aboard alien ships. In the void itself, tiny nanite and micro-bots joined the fray. Computer software ate at each other’s code, causing malfunctions and initiating false sensor readings.
Chelf’s heart raced. Screaming orders, organizing his men; this is what battle was supposed to be like. Life in the balance, nothing certain except for glory. He moved his pieces across space like pawns. Shifting a division to block an enemy maneuver, ordering friends to their death to save the day, he reveled in his duty. Forty-two one hundredths of a second into the fray, the stage was set. “Fire the mass drivers!”
Time spun out of control as it split into diverging possibilities. Ships atomized in one stream continued to fire in another. Thousands of rounds accelerated at a hundred times the speed of light toward their targets, each a canister of iron processed to remove the space between molecules. They were nano-processed balls of death. In the space of a synaptic gasp a hundred streams of time reconvened, bringing back certainty to the battlefield. Across the field, giant RIP’s cracked and snapped, exploding like a line of black cats in a coffee can. The remaining enemy Lunars were torn to shreds at much from the flying debris of their dying comrades as the remaining barrage of FlapperCorp’s relentless fire.
As the ships began their return home, there was only one thing to do. “Mission command, you’re gonna need to send more recs.”
Thanks to Hogan for standing his ground and making for a CR to remember. His troops fought with valor. GLOTR, I think we pretty well split the rubble down the middle.
And thanks to my teammate Space Devil for locating the target and passing on the info.
Attacker Loss: 849.960.000 Defender Loss:1.582.594.500
winnings Metal:0 Crystal:0 Deuterium:0
Debris Metal:761.904.600 Crystal:697.512.000
Wing Commander Chelf sat calmly in the captain’s chair watching the minutes tic away. Around him a dozen small holograms represented his squadron commanders. The mood was relaxed, almost melancholy.
“Twenty says they won’t be there?”
“Sucker bet. This is a slippery one by all accounts. No one’s nabbed him yet.”
“Even if he is there it won’t be much of a fight.”
“Better a turkey shoot for some helpless RIP’s than no shootn’ at all.”
“Doesn’t matter, nothing but empty skies for sure.”
Few of the commanders had seen real action. Captain Moore of the FCN Prue had seen action against Emperor Blackie, but for the most part the FlapperCorp Lunars just didn’t get out much. They were beautiful really, sleek and deadly, armed like a dragon and build for war. Multiple omni-direction specific phased inertia cannons were designed specifically for inflicting massive damage on large targets, read RIP’s. A single ship could fire two hundred rounds of compressed iron each before the other, allowing the entire three minute salvo to land simultaneously, and it could do so a dozen times in a matter of minutes.
All this and never ever a reasonable fight.
“Commander we have contact!” his tactical officer informed. Thinking it was a few hundred solar cells, his eyes began to focus on the holographic readouts. As he stood, the officer continued. “the RIP’s are there Sir, along with lots of clutter and . . . 10,000 plus enemy LG’s! All firing Sir!” On cue the flag ship rocked from an impact. All around him ships opened fire. With no direction individual valor held the field.
Osage squadrons swung low toward the planet’s surface, laying waste to the light defenses there. Captain Sims orders his wounded ship into an enemy formation and detonated self-destruct. Two thousand marines transported across the hellish divide to enter hand to hand combat aboard alien ships. In the void itself, tiny nanite and micro-bots joined the fray. Computer software ate at each other’s code, causing malfunctions and initiating false sensor readings.
Chelf’s heart raced. Screaming orders, organizing his men; this is what battle was supposed to be like. Life in the balance, nothing certain except for glory. He moved his pieces across space like pawns. Shifting a division to block an enemy maneuver, ordering friends to their death to save the day, he reveled in his duty. Forty-two one hundredths of a second into the fray, the stage was set. “Fire the mass drivers!”
Time spun out of control as it split into diverging possibilities. Ships atomized in one stream continued to fire in another. Thousands of rounds accelerated at a hundred times the speed of light toward their targets, each a canister of iron processed to remove the space between molecules. They were nano-processed balls of death. In the space of a synaptic gasp a hundred streams of time reconvened, bringing back certainty to the battlefield. Across the field, giant RIP’s cracked and snapped, exploding like a line of black cats in a coffee can. The remaining enemy Lunars were torn to shreds at much from the flying debris of their dying comrades as the remaining barrage of FlapperCorp’s relentless fire.
As the ships began their return home, there was only one thing to do. “Mission command, you’re gonna need to send more recs.”
Thanks to Hogan for standing his ground and making for a CR to remember. His troops fought with valor. GLOTR, I think we pretty well split the rubble down the middle.
And thanks to my teammate Space Devil for locating the target and passing on the info.
