Now surrounded by the vastness of space, Celt pressed his fingers to the glass screen to prepare his fighter for combat. His weapons were primed and ready to fire. All systems were green across the board. As the flight leader's wingman, he took up the second position, while his partner filled the third spot. All fighters had been deployed in anticipation of a fight, and as his eyes flicked between the canopy and his scanners, it seemed that just about every fighter had been launched from every ship. Some held back, circling their mother ships defensively, but the bulk joined in the attack force.<br/><br/>The enemy was well-prepared. Saurian fighters sped like bullets toward the human fleet, their sleek designs making them hard to scan and harder to see. Shaped like reptiles with short tails, the enemy ships sped toward Celt and his counterparts with their weapons ready to fire. Though it was his first official mission, Celt mostly succeeded in keeping his cool. This wasn't a simulator anymore. This was real life. If he was shot down, the only thing that would follow would be a quick death, either frozen solid or cooked by the sun's rays, depending on where he ended up.<br/><br/>Celt closed his eyes for just a moment, taking a final deep breath to steady his nerves, and pulled the trigger.<br/><br/>A storm of fire engulfed the entire area as the radio surged with chatter. Pilots relayed information, called targets, issued orders, and called for help just before their voices were silenced. Celt's CO called for a breakup in the formation, and to engage targets at will. His fighter danced across the combat area, rolling and diving and rising gracefully, not wasting a bit of energy in its movements. His accuracy wasn't as good as some of the other pilots, but his ability to evade fire earned him a place in the upper echelon of fighter pilots.<br/><br/>The new fleet modifications made a huge difference in the fight. Earth's defenders were better armed, better armored, and far more powerful than ever. The battle was not, however, a cake-walk. Celt's initial observation was that the humans were now at least competing on a level playing field instead of being at a severe technological disadvantage.<br/><br/>"Celt i've got two bogeys on my tail." Doran's voice was cool under pressure, but the urgency in it was unmistakable. A flew taps from his fingers located Celt's SO on scanners, giving him the information he needed to assist. His fighter's engines roared as he pushed the flight stick down and to the side.<br/><br/>"Copy SO. I'm right above you. Gonna dive right at 'em." True to his word, in only a few seconds his guns lit up, firing small projectiles at the lead fighter, peppering it's hull. Upon impact, the shells released a corrosive acid that weakened the enemy's armor and damaged internal systems. The Saurian ship quickly began to fall apart until it exploded, causing the other aggressor to divert its course and break off its attack.<br/><br/>"Thanks, Celt," Doran said through the comm. "Good shooting bu--" Celt's receiver blasted a chaotic cacophony of noise for a single moment, then went eerily silent. Doran was dead.<br/><br/>Celt cursed under his breath and sighed as he rolled to the side. "Icarus, this is Celt. Be advised, SO's dead. I'm assuming command of the squadron."<br/><br/>"Roger that, Celt. Bring the squadron back to the Icarus and assume defensive positions. We're moving in to rendezvous with the Heracles."<br/><br/>Celt acknowledged the order and issued the command to the rest of the squadron, recalling them to their home ship. Of the original 12 in the group, two were killed in action. The remaining ten took up defensive positions around the Icarus, surrounding her sleek hull as her main engines flared, sending her into the middle of the fray.<br/><br/>The capital ships had entered the fight, trading fire with the hulking masses of Saurian metal, desperately trying to defend their home against the scaled invaders. Heracles, an ECM battleship, had sustained heavy damage from a Saurian torpedo and had lost main power. Icarus' job was to provide protection and repairs so she could stay in the fight. The Icarus cruiser was designed to bear a brutal attack with it's directional shielding technology. Celt and his teammates kept enemy fighters at bay while shooting down missiles and torpedoes. The cruiser cozied up to Heracles, activating it's shield why both automated repairs systems and manpower worked feverishly to restore the massive combat vessel.<br/><br/>"Alert! Alert!" Celt's automated system flashed within the cabin. "Multiple torpedoes inbound." The pilot's heart raced as the view screen showed exactly what the alarm warned him of.<br/><br/>"Icarus fighters, enemy ordinance inbound! Flip over the BS and engage! Icarus, recommend you disconnect immediately!"<br/><br/>The fighters followed their new leader as he rolled over Heracles' hull and began firing on the projectiles. Despite their size, the narrow ballistics packed an immense amount of active energy. The fighters fired on the approaching torpedoes, destroying several, but they were unable to neutralize all of them. Celt could only watch in horror as several projectiles pierced Heracles' hull, setting off internal explosions and decimating the battleship.<br/><br/>The Icarus, it's shielding pointed the opposite direction, was helpless to what was coming. As the Heracles broke apart, the cruiser was caught in the destruction. Celt watched as his ship, his home away from home, suffered lethal damage. "Taurus fighters! Scramble and evacuate now!" He couldn't save the battleship, nor could he save the cruiser. He could only hope that his squadron could get away from the dying capital ships before they were caught up in the explosion.<br/><br/>A bright flash of light and a massive wave of energy ripped through Celt's fighter, severely damaging the craft and injuring the pilot. Adrift and barely conscious, Celt activated his distress beacon, then passed into darkness, uncertain whether or not he would ever wake up.