The crashed corvette sat helplessly on Devolatus soil, and had become little more than a partially mangled wreck on its barren surface. Armor plates and weapons and various sensor clusters had been torn off during its devastating crash, and were strewn about for dozens of meters behind it.
The Peacekeeper fighters had also crashed all around, hundreds of meters away from the corvette, and in every direction. The fighter chassis themselves were torn apart and warped heavily, but the pilots inside were fine. Mostly.
Some were knocked out from the force of impact, others had broken bones. One was furious.
Seraph slammed a fist on his controls, humiliated at how easily they had all been taken out. And of course Eva was involved. She was always involved. He almost felt like he was being griefed himself.
If he had been in charge, he would have been shooting from the get-go. And reasoned that none of this would have happened if he was.
“Fuckin’ protocols,” he cursed.