Starshatter: “Silence and Darkness - Part I”
Bom, escrevi este texto baseado em uma das missões que joguei no Starshatter. O texto está em inglês porque escrevi originalmente para ser postado no fórum do SimHQ, mas decidi postar aqui antes. Depois posto a parte 2, também em inglês. E é minha intenção postar vários AARs (”After Action Reports” - “relatórios de ação”) em português, não só do Starshatter, mas de outros jogos também.
Até lá, boa leitura. E se puder, deixe um comentário dizendo o que achou, ok?
As I woke up, I could still feel the bruises from the day before. The chief mechanic officer probably couldn’t sleep, trying to figure out how I managed to land my Thunderbolt after the mission yesterday — its hull was probably thinner than a paper sheet when I entered the landing bay — but at least I was alive. The mission had been accomplished: an enemy destroyer was now nothing more than a pile of debris to fall someday on the rings of the planet below.
Hopefully, we would have an easier time now that the enemy lost most of its attacking fleet — the frigates Lovo and Udel, and the destroyer Tomal. Command believed that some other frigate or destroyer might be around, perhaps even a carrier, since some patrols had reported contacts with short-range enemy fighters; but until they were spotted, we should have a rest from the more difficult missions. Now time was our ally, rather than our enemy, and we seemed to finally have a significant tactical advantage.
The last mission kept playing in my head again and again as I left my quarters. A few minutes later, there I was, in the familiar briefing room. Jackson and Pike were not there… and there were two missing Falcons in the hangar. War is hell.
The CAG gave a brief report on our tactical status. Now there were only minor skirmishes in the sector, and part of our task force was patrolling for the enemy. Still, there were some unexpected attacks to convoys, mostly in nearby sectors, particularly close to Harmony Station. Therefore, apart from a few standard patrols, most of the fighters would be reassigned to escort duties. As the CAG handed out each squadron mission, I wondered whether the enemy had some secret agenda in all this; I was under the impression that they were just trying to gain some time…
My thoughts were interrupted as I heard my name. My task would be to escort a freighter carrying humanitarian aid to the Harmony sector. It seemed like a routine mission: slow flying, no enemies, and time to rest and watch the stars. Considering the last missions, that was the closest to taking a few days off, given the present situation. I grinned and the CAG seemed to know what I was thinking, as he nodded.
In less then 30 minutes I was in the Archon’s bay inside my good old StormHawk heavy fighter, as the automated launch system got us out of the carrier. A few seconds later, I was in the empty of space, surrounded only by our task force, a nearby planet with its pretty rings, and the silent stars. I checked the waypoints, waited for my wingman to be launched, and proceeded to the first waypoint, where the freighter was waiting for us.
Whitestar. That would make a great name for a middle-sized combat ship, but in this case, it was the name of the freighter to be escorted by my flight. It was pretty new, and quite bulky; much larger than a Zodiac. Its good shielding and armor and a defensive turret meant it could hold its own for a while, but not for long. As we entered formation beside it, a familiar voice came on my radio.
“Hi, sweetie. I was hoping it would be you to escort us. Ready to go?”
“Mom?”
I’ll punch the CAG for this. The nerve…
“Are you ready or not? Hello?”
“Sure, mom. You were transferred to this sector…?”
“Yeah, last week. You know I’m very good at logistics, right? Your father…”
Two blips in my radar.
“Attention ISS Whitestar, maintain radio silence. Two bogeys detected. We’ll investigate.”
“Oh…” (a male voice came up) “Getting the shields up. Good luck, boys!”
I never thought I could be grateful to our enemy. But in a way I was. I prepared the medium ranged missiles and then bumped the afterburner, as the adrenaline filled my veins.
We had in our sights a two-ship enemy flight heading for the freighter. I let go four MRMs, two for each, as in the book — as I didn’t expect any more bogeys in the mission. Three hits, one close miss; the cockpit flashed as I used the guns to finish the second enemy fighter. In 30 seconds it was over, and both I and my wingman left the fight victorious and without a scratch.
As we approached the Whitestar again, the pilot said quickly in the radio:
“Good work, boys! Should we maintain radio silence?”
I remembered my mom was there.
“Yes, that’s the safest thing to do. Contact us once you’re ready to enter the jump gate, and we will follow.”
Precious, precious silence. Sometimes I almost love outer space. But I couldn’t yet know how much I would hate that exact same silence a few minutes later…
(To be continued…)