Surrounded by swarmers, your squadron attempts to hold off the endless horde. Mass driver tracers and engine trails weave an intricate dance among the clouds of the ensanguined nebula. The muffled thumping of your cannons echoes throughout B-502's cockpit as proximity alarms blare incessantly.

"Come on, stay with me now," crackles Raab, your flight's lead, to his fighter. For a brief moment, nothing. Then static and his garbled scream over the squadron comms.