Thoughts?
"Break left!"
Tracers whizzed past the window of the small, speeding fighter. Inside, a frantic pilot desperatly scrambles to evade the relentless enemy behind him.
"He's still on you! Break right!"
Again, a narrow escape. Only this time, the pilot didn't get away quite fast enough. Huge 20 MM cannon slugs slapped into the fragile fighter, blowing holes in it the size of soup cans. Dodging desperately back and forth, the rookie pilot was unable to shake the more experienced fighter pilot behind him. Left and right, up and down, he's growing desperate. In a last-ditch effort to evade, he flips his fighter upside down, and flies backwards, spraying bullets in the direction of his pursuer. Only his adversary is too fast for him. Jetting straight up, he flies over his prey and, nosing his fighter down, rips the bottom of his craft to shreds. The tiny, already wounded space craft shudders violently with each impact. Good luck charms, notes, pictures, anything that wasn’t bolted down flew around the cockpit, slapping against the pilot, the controls, everything inside the cockpit. Suddenly, a gut-wrenching lurch, and small explosion, and the bullets rip through the craft, and out the other side. Now, both top and bottom of the fighter spouted long columns of white-hot lead.
“Johnson! Burners! HIT YOUR BURNERS!”
A flash. A moment of recognition…’that’s Roy’….and the command gets through. Slamming his foot down, the craft rockets forward. The gunfire still does not cease, and it etches a long line of destruction down the belly of Johnson’s fighter. Small explosions rocked the tiny vessel.
“Oh my God, Johnson!”
Roy’s mind raced. He had no ammo left…his engines were still working, though. This engagement was beginning to take a tole. If he didn’t do something quick, Johnson wouldn’t be making it home.
Suddenly, he had it. There was a chance…it was suicide, but there was a chance he could save Johnson. He had to take it, he wasn’t going to send another letter home to some poor man’s family. Not again. There had already been too many.
His foot pushed down on the pedal hard. Everything seemed to be going slower than normal…only a few seconds…the other pilot was still too occupied with his target than to notice him. There!
Only a few meters away, Roy was closing in on his target in speeds faster than Mach 2. At the last second, the enemy pilot looked up to behold the powerful sight of a 20 ton space fighter barreling down on him. Instinctively, he jerked the stick backwards, but to no avail. The fighter plowed into him with full speed. Metal screeched, ammo exploded, and a scream echoed as the enemy pilot was exposed to the vacuum of space, sans suit. Explosive decompression quickly ended his suffering, however gruesome it was to see.
Meanwhile, Roy was barely breathing in his own fighter. A last ditch effort to save himself by reversing his fighter at the last minute, slamming into the enemy with his rear, worked, but only barely, leaving him clinging to life with what little strength he had left. Slowly, as the world faded to black, he thought he saw the distant red and green beacons of a ship…
But he couldn’t be sure…