Darkness alive there were a lot of them! Steph felt his suit pull overtime as he threw himself into another impossible turn, narrowly avoiding a barrage of pulsar fire that would've cut clean through his fighter. He ignored the constant wailing of sirens even as it threatened to deafen him. He knew his shields were damn near depleted, but the Novicans weren't exactly giving them any time to recharge! He knew he'd have to break off this charge sooner or later, because an unshielded vessel was easy pickings for even a few motes of space dust at the speed he was going. Capital ships and their thick armoured hulls could ignore such impacts, even smaller escorts could endure them for a good while, but to attack craft and their paper thin armour even the slightest impact would wreck them.

The only problem, Steph realised with a grimace, was that there was no way to break off this damned, suicidal charge. The enemies were all around. Following orders, he and the Nightprowlers, along with all of the other Triglav squadrons, had met the second wave head-on. Lighter fighters burst into flames as vulcan rounds claimed their targets, lasers burned through metal and pulsars tore through hulls and engines and shattered cockpits. Missiles detonated all around them, point defences blasting non stop while shockwaves played havoc with their instruments. They were impossibly outnumbered and it only got worse as more and more heavy fighters joined the fray, each of the bastards requiring a concentrated burst to render them harmless.

He hit his sideways thrusters and felt his breakfast surge upwards as he pushed himself out of the path of an incoming fighter. He briefly considered turning his craft round to blow him to smithereens, but four more enemies were already trying to lock onto him.

'Janice! One L behind, four H ahead!' he shouted. He didn't have time to look on his display, having to apply all his considerable skill as he engaged in a lightning duel with the four heavies ahead, their distance shortening briefly. Streaks of pulsar fire tore through the void and dotted the side of one enemy, only to be forced to break off the attack when the next unleashed a hellish barrage. He returned the favour by erratically dancing up, down, right and left, straining his thrusters but throwing off his foes targetting, before his vulcans spoke in turn. Three short barks later and they were one fighter short. A stream of pulsar fire flashed by him and a second went up in flames as Janice, his wingman, or wingwoman rather, dashed by. Countless hours of training together had taught the two of them to work like they were one and as her Triglav turned to keep facing the enemy, he blasted through the gap and did the same for the final foe. Another salvo later and the immediate area was clear, allowing Steph to finish his turn and nearly blacken out from the sheer forces pulling on him.

Instinct screamed at him to move even as he was blinking to get rid of the new firmament that had appeared in his vision and he obeyed it. Something darted past and he finally became aware of Janice screaming over the comms. He looked ahead and saw that the new stars were still there. Then he realised they weren't stars at all and decided that discretion was the better part of valour and absolutely legged it. He made his fighter tilt ninety degrees and punched the engine far beyond its tolerances, the drive wake extending rapidly as he willed his Triglav to chance direction, following where he knew Janice had flown off to. He dropped flares by the dozen, screamed into his comms about the incoming danger and closed his eyes, ignoring the constant beeping of his computer as hundreds of missiles closed in on him and his squadron. He began counting, giving himself a stable constant amidst the chaos.

When he reached five and was somehow still alive, he opened them again and was beyond pleased to find that his squadron, somehow, had made it out of that hellstorm intact, even if they were now completely out of position and the Novican ranks that they had torn apart ever so expertly were rapidly reforming into something resembling coherency. He looked for the offending party and spotted the cause of his short-lived nightmare. A wing of heavy gunships was slowly advancing on their lines, although the name gunship was an inaccurate one. The blasted things were missile boats through and through, carrying dozens of anti-fighter warheads! Heavy armour and tough shielding complemented the bastards and as if that wasn't enough they had a sizeable escort of heavy fighters. Four squadrons of them, at least.

Sweat ran down his forehead, pooling in his helmet, as he realised just how close to total annihilation he and his squadron had come. Death didn't frighten him, but if he died here that would mean he had failed and that scared the pants off him. If those gunships had held off firing for a few seconds more they'd have blasted the Nightprowlers into the beyond, taking a solid number of allies with them. As it was now, his entire squadron had managed to —fucking narrowly— dodge the entire salvo and reposition themselves well out of harms way. The enemy fighters were already slowly beginning to turn towards them, well aware that the unwieldy gunships couldn't reorient themselves and would be easy pickings for the Imperials. It was a good call.

It just wasn't good enough.

With a barked order and a series of screams the elite pilots of the Nightprowlers hurled themselves towards the still rotating enemy, once again abusing their ships to redirect themselves towards their targets. The Novican pilots were still coming to terms with just how impossibly agile the Triglavs were, how quickly they could alter direction and could even reverse direction in a scant few agonizing heartbeats and the Imperials made sure to capitalise on that advantage. They tore through fighter and gunship alike, streaking past their targets at insane speeds, tilting their fighters sideways as inertia hurled them through space and tore them apart with heavy salvos in horrifyingly close quarters. Steph even got close in enough to see the petrified face of the squadron leader as he gracefully arced past her. He briefly felt a pang of remorse for the young woman as he pulled the trigger. He steeled himself as he left the wreckage behind. The Empire hadn't asked for this war and you couldn't preach pacifism if you weren't willing to back up your ideals.

As his grandfather had once told him when he was young and still bullied in school; if you claimed you were a pacifist but couldn't defend yourself, you weren't a pacifist at all. You were simply harmless.

His fighter turned along the rails again as he skilfully manoeuvred his thrusters to steer himself through the enemy, who were still struggling to get into formation despite that they were being torn apart by the Nightprowlers. He let his vulcans lock onto the first gunship, knowing it was crewed by well over two dozen living beings. He closed his eyes, recalling his oath of service.

'To protect the Empire. To protect your brothers and sisters in arms. To protect the innocent. To protect yourself,' he whispered the ancient words.

He opened them again, looked at the display. Saw the countless dots lighting up the void and knew they weren't stars. and screamed at the top of his lungs.

'And in that bloody order!'

And pulled the trigger.