Bethany tugged awkwardly on the harness holding her firmly to her seat, trying in vain to adjust her seating. Whoever had formerly occupied this Cutlass was significally narrower at the hips than Bethany was, something she wasn't certain mattered but which irked her ever so slightly never the less, but the important result was she didn't quite fit into the seat naturally. It was bothering her, coupled with the never ending wail of an engine master alarm, this Cutlass made for a thoroughly unenjoyable ride into combat, and she wasn't even sure if the Cutlass would survive much heavy turning and evasive action, vaccum of space or no. It was a worthy fact to remember that all space superiority fighters were ultimately just tens of thousands of small parts all being held flimsily together, with the sole purpose of killing whoever sat in the pilots seat.<br/><br/>Her radio clicked.<em>"Widow; can you maintain formation or do you need to recover to the Liege?"</em>Bethany's jaw tightened and her eyes narrowed. As she reached up to respond, she heard a loud snap and then a muted, high pitched pop from directly behind her. Her eyes snapped to the holographic gages sitting in front of her, and she watched as the engine alarm went off, briefly, before she heard a sudden sputtering and the alarm started up again. She stared at the gages accusingly, her hand halfway to the manual transmit key on her radio, waiting for a few moments before keying her radio.<br/><br/>"<strong>Copy CAG, all systems up. Good to go</strong>" Bethany responded simply to the stranger who now called the shots, though she wasn't entirely sure who flew the craft she was forming up on, she followed orders well enough to go that far at least. Bethany had fallen in behind, to the left and above, one of the lead craft known as Talons, though she had never seen one, she knew the profile and silhouette well enough. Bethany knew her craft was in no condition to fight but franky, if it was in no condition to fight it likely wouldn't survive a landing either, so she was stuck here all the same, and if she was going to end up dead, better it be in combat than from boredom, waiting for recovery to snatch her out of the great vaccum of space, adrift in her disabled piece of shit Cutlass.<br/><br/>Bethany yanked the stick hard right, spinning before dancing upward, just as her systems alerted her to the appearance of enemy fighters, and a great number of them too. She grinned to herself, unsure who precisely the remaining flight group had sauntered out to meet, but deviously glad the opposition had responded in kind. Her radar then detected a nuclear weapon launch, and her eyes left the canopy to scan the radar display, watching the flashing missile on her screen inch towards the enemy.<em>"All fighters brace for fusion warhead detonation shock wave and EMP."</em><br/><br/>Bethany squinted her eyes closed and turned her head away, but the bright flash from detonation still flooded her cockpit with light, nearly blinding. She reopened her eyes to see the dying glimpse of the orange and white blast far off in the distance, and returning her eyes to the radar, she was happy to see many of the bandits were no longer appearing.