In the F.I.S. turbolift, midway up it’s antigrav shaft, Blast heard the sirens begin to sound and in the distance, tiny little popping sounds could be heard; the sounds of fighter fire hitting the cruiser’s shields. The elevator door slid open and the corridor beyond was suddenly full of F.I.S. troops, charging around in response to the sirens. Blast left the lift and pushed his way along the wall of the corridor, trying his hard to remain inconspicuous whilst surrounded by the enemy.
He made it a decent distance but then somebody spotted him.
“It’s Blast!” came the cry just as R.K. made it past the crowd. He thought fast and grabbed a grenade from a pouch on his belt and spinning, threw it at the floor between him and the troopers who were now realizing he was there.
It exploded and Blast began sprinting as several F.I.S. were blown backwards into the confusion.
“Okay, go!” Padfoot prompted and Slash, who was sat in the pilot’s seat of their shuttle, pressed the controls and made them lift off.
The tiny craft darted out of the hanger bay and into what had now become the battlefield, as F.I.S. fighters took to the sky to combat the attacking U.R.S..
Slash dodged and weaved through the fighting, trying his best to avoid being hit. One particle beam flashed past so close that the whole ship rung like a broken annunciator and everybody automatically flinched at how close they’d come.
Fighters zoomed by each other, as lasers and shock beams flashed by them. The craft flashed around at lightning speed, their engines glowing from the heat they were producing.
Down on the night-side of the planet far below, people started noticing something strange in the sky above them. Tiny flashes of light, a latticework of minute hairlines that spread between larger black spots and followed the spiraling trail of glowing firebugs. People began to venture outside to watch what was first thought of as a phenomenon. Beings stood on rooftops and looked to the sky. People who hadn’t ventured outdoors in years, stepped into the artificially cleaned air to gaze at the wonder above, as news of what was happening slowly spread across the planet.
What the people viewing from afar didn’t know, was that the tiny flashes of light were in fact massive explosions, the hairlines were vapor trails and the glowing firebugs were exploding fighters, all part of a massive battle just out of their atmosphere.
The Holonet, the Galaxy’s news channel, began broadcasting reports on the events unfolding above the Capital planet. What was happening? Nobody knew. But then a report came through from the Space Ring in orbit around the planet, from the droid in charge, stating that they were under attack from a giant army.
So this was the message that started being passed around, that Coruscant’s Space Ring was under attack. Nobody knew the truth to begin with and for the participants in the actual battle, they didn’t even know that they were being reported on.
For them, everything was just a blur. Flashing lights, lumps of durasteel flying past, explosions and near-death experiences over and over.
The shuttle in which the U.R.S. leaders currently sat, hoping that they’d make it through the battlefield, got closer and closer to The Desolation and after shooting down an F.I.S. jet, finally made it to one of the many hangers.
Slash brought them to a sharp halt, not bothering to slow down as they blasted through the forcefield over the hanger bay entrance and they descended until they were touching the ground at which point the ship’s anti-grav clamps locked them to the floor.
“Let’s go!” Padfoot encouraged and Slash lowered the boarding ramp.
Drawing their weapons, the leaders made their way out of the craft and instantly came under fire from F.I.S. pilots who were prepping their fighters, getting ready to join the battle.
The U.R.S. ducked for cover as lasers flew past at close range. They hid behind craft that had yet to take off, crates and anything else they could find to use as shelter from the hail of lasers that now surrounded them.
Padfoot was ducked behind a stack of crates and kept swapping between hiding and standing up, shooting down the enemy with expert precision, one shot per troop.
An F.I.S. pilot took his chances and dashed across an open area to get to his ship but mid-way, a laser to the head from Falcon took him down.
Another climbed up the ladder and clambered into his cockpit but Hess was nearby and fired repeatedly through the glass dome, shattering it and quickly dispensing with the pilot.
It didn’t take long before the hanger bay was clear of F.I.S. troops and the team could continue onwards, so far injury free.
They entered the first corridor and were instantly met by the enemy forces. Using their surroundings for protection, the group pushed onwards, through the flying lasers and dying soldiers.
Their progress was slow but gradually as a team, they made decent speed. Moving down corridor after corridor they carried on, fighting as a team side by side, each with their own specific talent in battle.
As individuals they were talented, incredibly hard to best in battle, but as a team; as a team, working together they were unstoppable.
Padfoot taking down men one shot at a time with pinpoint accuracy.
Flare’s style very much similar to Blast’s, his duel pistols firing rapidly at the oncoming enemy.
Hess always firing double shots from his single pistol, each target felled with ease.
Nightblaze using the enemy’s surroundings to his advantage; shooting explosives or damaging integral structures.
Slash injuring from a distance and then getting close to finish them off.
Falcon’s two blasters rhythmically pumping out shots, one after another after another.
Shock using cover to his advantage, keeping an eye on those who weren’t paying attention or were busy concentrating on someone else and then eliminating them.
They worked their way steadily onwards, mowing down man after man, anyone who stood in their way.
The F.I.S. had been taken by surprise, caught off-guard in the middle of the night and so were unprepared for the fight. They were slowly getting themselves organized but for most, it was too late.
The U.R.S. leaders were on them and then they were down, killed alongside their brothers in the chaos that followed their surprise.
Meanwhile in a corridor far above them, Blast was still heading for the bridge. Gone was the kind, forgiving side of him. Now was not the time to be soft. Anybody who stood in his way was struck down with ease.
But with all the commotion he managed to slip around unnoticed for the most part. He’d fire a shot here and there if somebody spotted him or decided to attempt to stop him but he tried to stay as quiet and invisible as possible.
In contrast to Blast’s silence, outside the cruisers the battle between the U.R.S. and F.I.S. fighters was heating up. The space was filled with dogfights, the tiny craft zooming among each other, either selecting new targets every time they succeeded in destroying one or themselves being blown to pieces by enemy laser fire.
On The Manipulator’s bridge, Captain Field stood commanding the gunners and pilots from the viewing wall.
“DD-34 fire at sector 2-4-1-5-6!”
The selected turbo-turret turned and opened fire at the area of The Desolation’s hull it had been commanded, but to no avail. The F.I.S. flagship’s shields were still active and still strong.
Padfoot and the other attacking leaders had moved up several floors now and were moving fast. They’d picked up speed, growing every closer to their destination of joining Blast on the bridge. Leaving a trail of dead F.I.S. behind them, they continued onwards, now in what appeared to them to be the research area of the ship. With nobody else around, they could breath a momentary sigh of relief and partially relax.
“Hess, Shock and Slash with me.” Padfoot commanded and the four of them jogged further up the corridor, past several doors that they assumed led into labs or research rooms of some kind and another corridor that led onto theirs at a right angle.
The others stayed where they were as the four who had gone on scouted ahead.
Moments later they started coming back again, having reached the end of the corridor. They re-grouped and decided that the way to go was down the adjoining corridor but as they turned to head towards it, a squad of F.I.S. troopers appeared up ahead.
“Formation!” Nightblaze shouted and the seven of them grouped together and began firing volleys in perfect unison.
The F.I.S. ahead of them held their place and returned fire, several of them having already fallen to the U.R.S.’s precision shots.
But as they exchanged lasers, Padfoot saw one of the doors leading off to the side open. He continued firing but watched the door as Zulcan Turso dashed out, a bundle of notes in one arm and a briefcase in the other, straight into the crossfire.
His body became riddled with lasers, from which side Padfoot couldn’t tell, maybe both. His face became a silent mask of pain as he stood being bombarded with fire, his papers flying everywhere and his case fell to the ground.
Padfoot screamed, “NOOOO!” but it was far too late and the good doctor hit the ground in a pool of blood.
Teeth clenched Padfoot’s rate of fire increased and soon, together they eliminated the squad with only a minor scrape to Slash’s leg armour in damage.
“Blast wanted him alive!” Padfoot shouted out and rushed over to the lifeless body of Turso.
“But he’s F.I.S.!” Hess replied.
“He only works for them! He saved Blast’s life don’t forget!” Padfoot told them all.
“Well, it’s too late now. No time for grievances, we have to push on.” Flare pointed out and although annoyed with their error, Padfoot agreed.
“Okay, let’s go.” He announced and led the way down the adjoining corridor.
THE DOCTOR HAS FALLEN. BUT WHAT WILL HAPPEN NEXT? FIND OUT IN PART 18! COMING THURSDAY 1ST AUGUST!
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