Rosdivan
16-04-2007, 21:55
Captain Anthony Gideon smiled as he banked his A7D Fury into its final run. I love my job he thought. And who wouldn't? The Fury was considered by many not to be a strike fighter, as some foreign militaries classed it, but rather as a shock fighter, thanks to its impressive warload. Though it could carry as many as ten Harpoon anti-shipping missiles, he was only carrying four today to optimize his stealth.
"No radars detected, I'm going to start the attack" announced his wizzo, or Weapons System Operator, Lieutenant Michael Davidson. "Uplinking with Condor." The enemy had sent a single destroyer out by its lonesome, presumably either for commerce raiding or to lob some cruise missiles at the Rosdivani island chain. Unfortunately, space based radars had detected it, recon had confirmed its identity, and now some Harpoons were about to blast it to pieces. "Ok, I've got the data. Missile targeting information confirmed," he narrated, looking at NAVSTAR coordinates on his display for the missiles and comparing it to the coordinates scribbled on the notepad resting on his knee from the pre-mission briefing and those given by the satellite. They all matched up, for the most part. The pre-mission briefing hadn't given numbers quite as accurate as those on the satellite, but the target was expected to move after all. In fact, those from the satellite weren't its current location, but where it was predicted to be with the missile flight time.
"Bruiser, bruiser, bruiser, bruiser!" called Lieutenant Davidson over both the intercom and a low-powered voice radio as the strike bay doors opened and four Harpoon missiles dropped out, igniting their turbofan and continuing on their merry journey, turning to port as they headed off for suicide.
"So how long before I need to pop up?" asked Captain Gideon, throttling back slightly to compensate for the aircraft now weighing some 6500 pounds less. The missiles might have automatic target acquisition, but bomb damage assessment would need to be done and it was far more preferable to do so from the safety of missile datalinks and a good ways away from the enemy ship's missile systems, than it was do so from very close and right next to enemy missile systems if the missiles hadn't made it.
"Six and a half minutes," came the response.
Those six and a half minutes went by as they normally did for a combat mission, in an odd mixture of anxiety, tension, and stress.
"Ok, pulling up," commented Captain Gideon, quite unnecessarily, as he pulled back on the stick and brought the Fury to an altitude where the datalink could be established with the missiles.
"Roger that," responded Lieutenant Davidson, pressing the buttons on his multifunction display to show the imagery from missile four. The last one to go in, it would show the results from the other missiles before it hit. After a few seconds, the image came on. A freighter of course, this was a live fire training exercise, and some smuggler had gotten his ship confiscated for his troubles. Still, there was something not quite right about the image...Davidson dismissed it as being nothing more than the usual differences between photographic imagery and infrared imagery. Suddenly part of the image bloomed, and expanded in a roiling cloud.
"One," he counted as the first missile struck. "Two," another strike, "Three", one more and then the ship zoomed quite large rather quickly before turning to static as the missile delivered its eight hundred pound warhead to the ship's internals. "Four, all good hits, that ship's a goner."
"Roger that, heading back home," replied Captain Gideon, as the Fury swung up and around for the long flight home. Scratch one target ship
Quite unknown to either of them was that the reason the ship looked different had not been the imagery, but rather, a neutral freighter had, out of ignorance or greed, ignored the Notice to Mariners' warning and strayed into the firing zone, and it was that ship, not the smuggler's vessel, which had just absorbed over four thousand pounds of high explosive and burning jet fuel.
OOC: I need someone to claim that freighter, so if you're interested, go ahead.
"No radars detected, I'm going to start the attack" announced his wizzo, or Weapons System Operator, Lieutenant Michael Davidson. "Uplinking with Condor." The enemy had sent a single destroyer out by its lonesome, presumably either for commerce raiding or to lob some cruise missiles at the Rosdivani island chain. Unfortunately, space based radars had detected it, recon had confirmed its identity, and now some Harpoons were about to blast it to pieces. "Ok, I've got the data. Missile targeting information confirmed," he narrated, looking at NAVSTAR coordinates on his display for the missiles and comparing it to the coordinates scribbled on the notepad resting on his knee from the pre-mission briefing and those given by the satellite. They all matched up, for the most part. The pre-mission briefing hadn't given numbers quite as accurate as those on the satellite, but the target was expected to move after all. In fact, those from the satellite weren't its current location, but where it was predicted to be with the missile flight time.
"Bruiser, bruiser, bruiser, bruiser!" called Lieutenant Davidson over both the intercom and a low-powered voice radio as the strike bay doors opened and four Harpoon missiles dropped out, igniting their turbofan and continuing on their merry journey, turning to port as they headed off for suicide.
"So how long before I need to pop up?" asked Captain Gideon, throttling back slightly to compensate for the aircraft now weighing some 6500 pounds less. The missiles might have automatic target acquisition, but bomb damage assessment would need to be done and it was far more preferable to do so from the safety of missile datalinks and a good ways away from the enemy ship's missile systems, than it was do so from very close and right next to enemy missile systems if the missiles hadn't made it.
"Six and a half minutes," came the response.
Those six and a half minutes went by as they normally did for a combat mission, in an odd mixture of anxiety, tension, and stress.
"Ok, pulling up," commented Captain Gideon, quite unnecessarily, as he pulled back on the stick and brought the Fury to an altitude where the datalink could be established with the missiles.
"Roger that," responded Lieutenant Davidson, pressing the buttons on his multifunction display to show the imagery from missile four. The last one to go in, it would show the results from the other missiles before it hit. After a few seconds, the image came on. A freighter of course, this was a live fire training exercise, and some smuggler had gotten his ship confiscated for his troubles. Still, there was something not quite right about the image...Davidson dismissed it as being nothing more than the usual differences between photographic imagery and infrared imagery. Suddenly part of the image bloomed, and expanded in a roiling cloud.
"One," he counted as the first missile struck. "Two," another strike, "Three", one more and then the ship zoomed quite large rather quickly before turning to static as the missile delivered its eight hundred pound warhead to the ship's internals. "Four, all good hits, that ship's a goner."
"Roger that, heading back home," replied Captain Gideon, as the Fury swung up and around for the long flight home. Scratch one target ship
Quite unknown to either of them was that the reason the ship looked different had not been the imagery, but rather, a neutral freighter had, out of ignorance or greed, ignored the Notice to Mariners' warning and strayed into the firing zone, and it was that ship, not the smuggler's vessel, which had just absorbed over four thousand pounds of high explosive and burning jet fuel.
OOC: I need someone to claim that freighter, so if you're interested, go ahead.