Unction Phalange Zeta

The fighter-craft sped off the carrier's outstretched catapults. Once they were at a safe distance, they flipped around and all at once ignited their main engines with a tremendous silent flash. Streamers of brightly coloured, high-velocity plasma trailed behind them as Unction Phalange Zeta accelerated toward its target.

Already two hundred kilometers from the carrier, Unction Phalange Zeta's flight leader (callsign "Katana") toggled his ship's radio. "All right, this should be just the same as the last few runs. A simple in-and-out."

At this, Katana's wingmate grumbled "Again?" Katana responded sharply. "This is a combat mission! You will keep channels clear of excess chatter! Is that clear?

Evidently, it was. Katana continued, "We're going to hit the same sort of target, just east of the enemy capital. Three strafing runs, then we're out. Focus on anything that looks big and important, then take targets of opportunity."

A light on Katana's HUD flashed. He looked at it and toggled his radio again, saying "Turnover point! Flip and deaccelerate!"

Unction Phalange Zeta, following Katana's command, powered down the main engines. The relentless press of acceleration stopped, though their immense speed was unreduced. With a sharp click from Katana's radio, the wing toggled jets, flipping a quick 180 degrees, then ignited the jets again. Far, far ahead of them, the system's star was becoming visible as more than a tiny speck of yellow light.

Continuing his briefing, Katana said "We don't expect any enemy fire. They're been pretty helpless in previous attacks, and the Guardian Network at our entry point has been confirmed disabled by HQ. Anti-ship weapons are to be powered, but not armed. Any questions?"

Unction Phalange Zeta-3 toggled his mike. "Sir... do we really need to hit this target? They're completely defenseless! It seems... wrong."

"That's not a decision for us to make," Katana barked. "We're just following orders. Our only job is to do it right. We are to kill the filthy degenerates and weaken the enemy's economy. Any other questions?"

There were none. Ahead, the system's sun became a yellow circle instead of a dot, swelling and brightening imperceptibly as the fighters approached. Much more quickly, the target world appeared: A blue world, circled by two moons, one much smaller than the other. It appeared as a dot; then a circle; then a globe. Then tiny glints of light began to occlude the surface - the Guardian Network. A fearfully small region began to blink on Katana's HUD, indicating the safest approach to the target. He tapped it twice, sending it to the rest of the flight wing. Carefully, they adjusted their approach to enter the safe region, deaccelerating all the way. When they hit atmosphere, they were barely moving at 1200kph relative to the surface.

Fire flared off Unction Phalange Zeta's shields as they skipped across the surface of the atmosphere, bleeding speed. After a minute's time, Katana gave the signal to enter atmosphere, and they shot downwards. Turbulence rocked the fighters as they shot ten miles above the blue ocean. In the distance, a golden shield glowed over the capital; but that was not their target today. The target finally, finally appeared in Katana's crosshairs. He gave the order over the radio: "Launch, launch, launch!" and two dozen plasma rockets shot out into the target. They were past it and circling around for another run before Katana could blink an eye. Twice more they fired, then, lightened of their burdens, they climbed for orbit. Katana had never even seen the target of their Extreme Unction.

And if Unction Phalange Zeta-3 had fired a half-second after the others on each run - just enough to spoil the shot and spill killing plasma over empty land instead - he was too good a pilot for Katana to make any complaint.

As the continents and oceans of the target world dwindled below as Unction Phalange Zeta burned for orbit, Katana noticed a faint crackling on his radio. He circled his finger on a touchpad, trying to tune it manually. It grew louder and quieter, but he could hear nothing of it until he cleared the magnetosphere. Then he heard it: faintly, static-filled, but very clearly a message from the wing's carrier.

"...immediately. I repeat, this is a message from Attack Squadron Seven HQ. There has been an error in the mission plan. The Guardian Network on the exit route has not, I repeat, has not been disabled. Unction Phalange Zeta is to stay in low orbit and wait for further instructions. Comply immediately..."

Katana was scrambling for the transmission controls as the words "exit route" came from the radio - but it was too late. Even as he screamed "Evasive Manuevers! Guardians are live! Arm weapons!" fire began to pour down on Katana's wing from all sides. His wingmate, simultaneously rolling sideways and arming anti-ship weapons, was hit by three IFF missiles from the Guardian fortresses simultaneously. The first one took out his shields; the second one blew his ship to bits; the third one came straight through the fire and blew up a careless Guardian drone-fighter. Katana cursed constantly as his command was blown to pieces. Unction Phalange Zeta-5 and 6 turned and burned for orbit, juking constantly. 7 and 8 were magnificent, a perfect team (as always), taking down nineteen incoming missiles and four drones in twenty seconds; then a particle beam (rated for use against capital ships) came out of nowhere and blew both of them into loose ions. Katana had no idea what happened to 3; it was all he could do to keep up with his own wingmate, 2, who seemed hell-bent on going through the Network. "Are you crazy?!" he screamed at his ally as three drones at once converged on his stern. Katana blew two apart with gauss cannons and confused the other with a radar jammer long enough to get past it. Somehow, against all odds, they'd nearly made it through the Guardians; then six turrets opened up on 2 and Katana simultaneously, lining them up for another particle beam shot. Katana, with a heroic effort, took out two turrets (firing backwards). 2 blew three of the others to scrap. Then, angling to take out the last one, he moved right into the particle beam's arc of fire.

Katana soared out of the Guardian Network all alone.

Katana radioed HQ, telling them of the losses and his current situation. Then, as he waited, he powered down nonessential systems, setting himself in a high orbit above the Guardian Net. As he sat there in the darkened cockpit, waiting for HQ's response, he thought to himself. That people might want to live like - animals, the crossing between man and beast - it's not something that I would do in a thousand years, but I can imagine those who could. And that they would want to return to an idyllic, untechnological society - that follows, really. Then that they'd set up an immensely complex and powerful orbital defense grid before they reverted to nature - only a sane precaution.

Katana sighed. But sometimes I question our beloved government's desire to wipe their entire society off the planet.

Though... broadcasting a video on all available spectra to all corners of the galaxy of our beloved executive as a rather lecherous and unintelligent tanuki as their last act before renouncing technology was in rather poor taste.

Author's note: This is a combination of two games I've been playing, and some very fun words. Bonus points for naming both games if your initials are not EBF.