Foo 7 or later...
Some days you loose... and some days you don't win.
On board of his command ship in orbit the Boskonian 'Admiral' was looking down on Ganymede.
The plan had been really good, and the battle should have become a massacre... it HAD become a massacre, unfortunately someone had forgot to tell the Fen that this time they were supposed to be on the receiving end of the stick.
"Sorry Admiral, we have already fired all the reserve missiles... unless you want to go deeper and attack the Fen with the coil guns, we are out of the fight" someone replied to his last question.
The Admiral looked again out of the window, down to the flaming wreck that had once been one of the largest transporters in their whole fleet. Now it was a expanding cloud of vapor slowly falling down towards the surface, together with the three Mammoth tanks inside. On his screens he could already see the first Fen crafts raising into the sky, looking for a prey to shoot down.
"Signal the remaining transports to get into a higher orbit and prepare to make a run for the belt" he ordered resignating.
"But... but our troops... our men... they are still fighting... they can still win!" someone on the bridge objected.
"There is nothing we can do for them anymore, without the large freighter we cannot even get them home! If they still manage to win this we can organize a second transport fleet, but we lack the firepower to combat that many Fen crafts at close range." The Admiral closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head. "And we cannot afford to loose even more spacecraft... we must cut our losses and hope we will shake off the Fen in the belt."
This day had began with an attack for the final victory... with a grab for continued space superiority by their alliance. But now it looked like the worst catastrophe that had ever happened for them.
Some days you loose... and some days you don't win.
On board of his command ship in orbit the Boskonian 'Admiral' was looking down on Ganymede.
The plan had been really good, and the battle should have become a massacre... it HAD become a massacre, unfortunately someone had forgot to tell the Fen that this time they were supposed to be on the receiving end of the stick.
"Sorry Admiral, we have already fired all the reserve missiles... unless you want to go deeper and attack the Fen with the coil guns, we are out of the fight" someone replied to his last question.
The Admiral looked again out of the window, down to the flaming wreck that had once been one of the largest transporters in their whole fleet. Now it was a expanding cloud of vapor slowly falling down towards the surface, together with the three Mammoth tanks inside. On his screens he could already see the first Fen crafts raising into the sky, looking for a prey to shoot down.
"Signal the remaining transports to get into a higher orbit and prepare to make a run for the belt" he ordered resignating.
"But... but our troops... our men... they are still fighting... they can still win!" someone on the bridge objected.
"There is nothing we can do for them anymore, without the large freighter we cannot even get them home! If they still manage to win this we can organize a second transport fleet, but we lack the firepower to combat that many Fen crafts at close range." The Admiral closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head. "And we cannot afford to loose even more spacecraft... we must cut our losses and hope we will shake off the Fen in the belt."
This day had began with an attack for the final victory... with a grab for continued space superiority by their alliance. But now it looked like the worst catastrophe that had ever happened for them.