Argyle had been coasting, somewhat lazily, through the battle after his last stunt, taking shots here and there but mostly running cover. There was no reason for their squadron to have any casualties during what was becoming a mop up exercise.
"Thanks you two...when we make it back to the ship...I will buy you both a drink and the best food in the galley. Now let's catch back up to Specter On..."
Argyle mentally tapped his comms open.
"Sounds good. And call me Blackjack - if we're picking names, the -"
The electronic attack hit him and the others in his squadron. It blindsided him.
HIs mind was directly connected to the Sparrowhawk (the
Haitaka, as the Star Army variant was called), connected so deeply that he
was the fighter, suborning parts of its control systems and replacing them with himself. When the scramble hit, it was like
he had gone blind and deaf. His vision shrank to only what the fighter itself knew, its systems were out of his reach. For an agonizing moment, his consciousness drifted in a dark, silent void that made space seem lively.
Argyle was spared from the hack affecting him directly. Layers of firewalls and virtualized instances of "himself" separated him from the systems, usually an afterthought for an Operator and suddenly very, very important. A dozen ephemeral Argyles died in that moment, but his true self was fine. Waiting. Testing.
When the Haitaka's systems recovered, he was there once again. A sensation of vertigo washed over him as an unfamiliar uncertainty of his position and heading arrived. Before, he had known exactly where he was and where he was going. Quickly, he compared what he knew against what the Haitaka knew, excluding where he
wasn't until he knew where he
was, and in what direction. Tentatively, carefully he reached his senses beyond the bounds of local space to try and grasp the situation on the battlefield.
What he found were missiles. He sent the Haitaka into a wild spin and dumped chaff, urging the PPS to spike anything that got too close.
Many of the missiles were too close, having closed the distance while he recovered surprisingly fast.
It had only been a second since the hack had hit, but it might as well have been an eternity. Messages piled in from TacCom and his squad mates.
What?!
we need to catch that big bastard that is coming around in that gunship
There were no gunships -
All Specter's be aware that enemy was able to target and disable full CFS stealth field with no warning.
A dozen and more messages begged for his attention. He filtered through them, down to only the ones for the squadmates he'd engaged with thus far, as he finished evading the last of the missiles. His ship had taken a beating from the proximity of the missiles detonating and would need new paint at the
very minimum. She was still operational, for now.
He collected himself, urging his mind back to a logical pattern. Statistics showed that levity after a moment of intense panic or trauma, if well executed, could lead to improved camaraderie and reduced stress.
"I don't run mines, sorry Octopus. I'll add a few to the shopping list."
The mystery of why the pirates hadn't fled seemed to be answered. Whether through faith or fear, they had been waiting for the arrival of this new ally.
Allies? It matched nothing he knew, but he'd expected that. He wished for more sensor data, something to help build a tactical plan.
Is the Nagamaki safe?
Too many questions, still not enough answers. Operators were inquisitive by design, had to be for their role as the central control unit of whatever fighter, frame, or ship they were controlling, but that nature wasn't helpful right now. He pushed it down, forced himself to work with less-than-full data.
This is why you're here. Into the unknown.
For now, he agreed with Octopus. The squadron needed to get to safety until they knew more.
"Specters, seconding Octopus' opinion to find cover. Avoid engaging Bandit 1 until we have a plan," his voice was cool and collected, carefully modulated.
"Sasquatch, you sound hungry - think you can come up with something?" His words were quick and decisive. Argyle wasn't sure who was next in the chain of command, but the squadron needed to be on the same page. Sasquatch seemed as likely as anyone; if nothing else, he wanted what Argyle wanted. Payback.
For now, though, he began to move to act on his own words. His fighter was a sharp streak heading, once more, towards the local asteroids and debris and seeking out cover.
He flicked his comms over to direct communication. "Nagamaki, are you out there? Do we have eyes on Actual? Are we at risk of another system spike? We lost the bubble pretty hard."
Throwing themselves at an enemy that had just proven itself superior went contrary to his goal of avoiding further casualties, no matter how much he wanted to test his mettle. He spun up a subprocess dedicated to cataloguing
Bandit 1's capabilities for when he had a chance to strike back.