Cinder

29 - Blockade Runners

"You want us to what?"

"You heard me, captain. None of our frigates can get close until those MAC guns are offline, and this is our best shot we've got at disabling them."

Captain Helen McIntyre had gone through quite the plethora of experiences during her time as leader of Harmony's Aerial branch, the 'Wings'; she'd been there to help evacuation efforts when they were awaiting an attack from Typhon's fold weapon, she'd fought in orbit when the Amalgamation had made its final way to her home ... but what the Embers' commander was suggesting was approaching insanity.

"Are we even sure such a maneuver would work?"

"It was Four who suggested it to my special tactics officer, and she seems to agree that it will."

Of course she knew who Four was, he'd been the one who'd convinced her and the rest of the civilian fleets to overthrow security on each of their worlds and hijack what ships they could to bring to the fight. But being a good Titan Pilot didn't mean he was an expert in naval warfare. "You trust their assessments?"

"With my life."

"If you're wrong, it won't just be your life you're gambling," she scolded warningly, her thoughts on the wellbeing of all her crew. Unfortunately, he was right in saying that they didn't have many options at their disposal. There was no indication that this 'Coalescence' event was ready yet, but the fleets would continue to be fired upon until either it was or they retreated. Neither was too enticing of an option to consider.

The comm stayed silent, the man on the other end allowing her a few moments to come to the realization that there really was no choice here. With a sigh that begged for forgiveness from those she was sure would not be returning from this trip, she opened it back up.

"Very well, Captain Taube. I'll scramble our fighters; our Hornets are now yours."

"Thank you, Captain McIntyre. We'll make sure their sacrifices are worth it."

"You damn well better," she couldn't help but add before cutting the line. She knew that these were desperate measures- but perhaps it would be that kind of shrewdness that ensured their survival as a species.

In any matter, she was simply grateful to not have to be the one to make the call.

...

The rattling of a dropship as it sped around was not something Gates had ever been, or ever would be, particularly fond of. For all the skill and prowess a Pilot brought to a battlefield, all of it was null and void in the air. All one could do was hope that their pilot was a damn good one, and wait out the trip.

Her fear of such experiences was only magnified upon learning that, according to this plan, she wouldn't even be allowed that increasingly appealing alternative- instead, she'd be subjected to the protective shell of a tin-can inside a tin-can, so to speak.

Unfortunately, this would be the easy part.

"You know, I always thought Four would get us killed one day- I just didn't think it'd be so direct," Davis muttered with an ever-present sardonic taint to his words. He sat next to her in the passenger's seat, fiddling with the stock of his Spitfire. He was used to lighter weapons, but this particular mission would require as many bullets with a punch as they could manage.

"It's nice to hear you crack a joke again," she said, turning to look at him. It was odd to see him in Pilot armor again, just as it had been odd to wear it herself. Their objectives had mostly been reconnaissance and infiltration for the last year or so- nothing quite so forward as this. But while it may have seemed unusual, she'd have been lying if she hadn't said it felt natural to slip back into the suit.