Light, Inextinguishable

"Lighthouse 1, this is Pelican Echo-079 - it's good to hear your voice."
Owain sat upright in his seat as he heard the pilot speak, groaning as his wounds stung in protest. It took a moment to patch into the COM-loop, but he hadn't missed much.
"-heard you and your Spartan needed an escort. I can give you two flights of three Longswords, on-station in a couple of minutes. Burned all our heavy munitions cracking a pair of Scarabs, but we can handle those fighters no problem."
A nominal squadron down to six Longswords - less than half strength - and with guns only? Lighthouse were in bad shape, Owain realised. Yet the squadron leader still sounded calm, collected. Professional, even with half her team gone and her planet burning.
He envied her.
"I solemnly swear to serve and support the United Nations Space Command."
Major Hanna Kaur glanced down at her feed again, making sure she had her figures right. 
"Lighthouse, UNSC Battlenet reads fifteen-plus bandits converging on Echo-079. We stay low, pop up right as we reach the city - we can clear house before they know what hit them." Around her, the other fighters were already shedding altitude, avionics plotting waypoints to keep them low across the mountainous Eposz terrain. 
"Watch your wingmen, stay sharp, and let the guns do their jobs." 
Her voice was confident, but she knew what her fellow pilots were thinking. They had one, maybe two chances to down their targets - if they were drawn into a dogfight, the agile covenant craft would chew through their weighty, mighty Longswords. But she knew that they could do it. They had to do it.
"To defend Earth and her colonies from all who call them foes."
"Guns, guns, guns!"
The Longswords pulled up at the very last second, cresting the mountains and racing towards the city at frightening speed. Coilguns spat fire, energy shields flared and died - half a dozen Seraphs exploded into blue-tinged fire before their packmates could react.
In moments, Lighthouse had blown past its opponents and was already coming around for another pass. One flight of the fighters pulled up sharply, contrails sweeping above the Alexandrian skyline; the other swung west, the disorganised Seraphs surging after them in pursuit.
Kaur held her controls in a white-knuckle grip as the Longsword's frame groaned around her, pale-white skyscrapers receding below. Looping round, her fighter plunged down towards the pack of Covenant fighters forming up beneath her, her display crowded with intercept paths and lead indicators. They were recovering fast - but her own computerised fire control was far, far faster.
She picked one pair at the edge of the formation and squeezed the trigger, watching the cannon fire trace all the way in. The second Seraph saw its wingman break apart in midair, tried to swing away from the threat from above.
It never stood a chance.
"I shall serve to the very best of my ability, with the greatest of skill, valour and honour."
From the back of the Pelican, it was a beautiful sight; the broad, stubby arrowheads streaking across the sky were nothing short of divine intervention. 
As the passengers watched, the descending flight of fighters downed another trio of Seraphs, although the flurry of fuel rod projectiles following them in their wake claimed one of the Longswords in return, badly mauling another. Still, after less than a minute both sides were almost on even footing - and the Covenant pilots seemed to be scattering, losing cohesion as the combat devolved into a frantic free-for-all. 
For precious moments it looked like the Pelican and her escort were home free. But then the Battlenet lit up again, warning receivers chirped, sensors lit up with the characteristic emissions of energy shields. More contacts, emerging from the confines of the city itself. 
Scattering, or drawing their opponents into a trap?
"I shall protect my comrades-"
Owain could hear the pilot's cursing, even over the cheers of the marines behind him. The Pelican was still pushed to the redline; the three intact engines fighting for every metre of altitude, but they were tantalisingly close to cresting the mountains and reaching the safety of the valleys beneath.
"Lighthouse, I'm seeing more contacts here. We're almost out - you should break off now, get clear."
"Don't know about you, oh-seven-niner, but I swore an oath." Kaur's laugh was strained, but genuine. "Didn't get my wings by half-assing jobs. We're committed now." 
It took a single, length moment to process the implications of that statement. Then-
"Solid copy, Lighthouse 1. We hear you."
"-for we are the sword and shield of every human world."
Now Lighthouse Squadron was caught on the back foot; another cloud of Seraphs swarmed from between the towers and parks of New Alexandria, plasma bolts filling the sky ahead of them. One Longsword dove away too hard, too fast, bottoming out into the side of an outcropping in a tremendous explosion. Another pulled left, pouring cannon fire into a Seraph that popped like a balloon, before a barrage of plasma fire from another slammed into its flank; the starboard wing suddenly sagged, the Longsword slowly rolling over and falling from the sky. 
Kaur swore at the incoming bandits, opening her throttle wide and diving hard. It was too late to organise an attack with her wingman lost, and the Seraphs would dance around them in any case. The only two friendlies she could see were far to the northwest and dropping rapidly, so she swung her Longsword back around, coilguns spewing slugs at every contact on her scopes, oblivious to the plasma bolts bracketing her. This city was her home, damn it, and she was not going to let them-
"I, this day, swear that I shall hold faith to this oath,"
Echo-079 dropped like a stone. For a moment Owain thought that their luck had run out, their engines had failed or taken another hit. But a few heart-stopping seconds later they were steady again, speeding along mere feet above the treeline. They were finally clear, out of sight of the Covenant fighters. Safe, or close to it.
A dozen miles behind, Kaur's warning receivers were screaming at her. She could see the fuel rod projectiles spiralling in, but there was nothing she could do, not with one engine shot out and the other rapidly turning itself to slag trying to make up the difference. Still, she yanked the stick back into the tightest loop as she could manage, feeling a moment of crushing g-forces as her inertial compensation faltered. The fuel rods followed her in lockstep, closing in with dogged determination.
Then, a voice, COM barely audible over her screaming engines.
"Lighthouse, Lighthouse! We are away! Say again, we are away!"
"For as long as I live."
One last nod of satisfaction. A job done, a vow fulfilled. "Good luck to you and your Spartan-"
The Longsword came apart around her.
Category:The Weekly