by Daniel Gibbs
“TAO, firing point procedures, Master Two, starboard magnetic cannons and neutron beams,” David ordered.
“Aye aye, sir, firing solutions set.”
“Match bearings, shoot, all weapons, Master Two.”
Again, the barrels flashed, spitting death toward the League ship. Its immense shields took the blows in stride and soaked up an incredible amount of punishment from the neutron beam emitters. The broadside would have probably destroyed a heavy cruiser but didn’t even get the shields of the Alexander class battleship under sixty percent. I wonder if they’ve upgraded their shields too, David pondered as he watched the tactical plot update.
“Conn, TAO. VRLS tubes one through two hundred and forty ready in all respects except a firing solution, sir,” Kelsey stated.
“TAO, firing point procedures, Master Two. Prepare time on target firing solutions for deployed Hunter missiles, all missiles loaded into our VRLS now, neutron beams and magnetic cannons. Double load the magnetic cannons with two EMP shells.”
“Aye aye, sir,” Kelsey replied.
“Everything but the kitchen sink,” David said quietly to Aibek. On the tactical display above him, two of the icons for League Cobras blinked out.
“Dyson got a couple,” Aibek observed.
“That he did.”
“Firing solutions set for time on target, sir,” Kelsey interjected.
“TAO, shoot, all weapons, Master Two.”
David’s eyes went back up to the tactical monitor. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw dozens of flashes of orange flame as Hunter missiles launched from the forward VRLS, visible out of the bridge’s transparent metal windows. Dozens of icons blinked into being on the screen, and dozens more appeared on the edges of the display, heading toward Master Two. He felt the thud of the magnetic cannons firing, and seconds later, the shield readout of the enemy battleship dropped dramatically on the EMP shells detonating.
“Incredible, really, how much punishment these unseen energy fields can take,” Aibek commented.
“Far more effective than armor plating, though we still plaster that all over our ships as a final line of defense,” David replied.
“Conn, TAO. Starboard shields have failed, sir,” Kelsey said.
“That is why, apparently,” Aibek deadpanned.
“Navigation, rotate the ship, present our dorsal shield to Master Two. TAO, adjust firing solutions for the neutron beams.”
“Aye aye, sir,
“Aye aye, sir, firing solutions adjusted,” Kelsey said.
There they go. David glanced up at the tactical plot one more time. Terminal runs of the Hunters took them straight into weakened shields of the monstrous battleship, hammering multi-megaton fusion warheads into the thin layer of protection. Then the defensive screens failed; the miniature suns began to go off on the surface of the ship, melting its armor and hull. Kelsey followed up with repeated neutron beam strikes, cutting holes in the League vessel, blowing molten pieces of the hull into the blackness of space.
“Conn, TAO. Master Two has ceased maneuvering, sir.”
“TAO, is Master Two still combat capable?”
“Yes, sir, we’re taking limited weapons fire that appears to be under local control.”
As long as they can fire at this ship, they’re a target. “TAO, firing point procedures, Master Two. Target any remaining weapons emplacements or power discharges with the neutron beams. Route all available weapons power into the energy weapons capacitor.”
“Aye aye, sir,” Kelsey said.
“Conn, TAO. Aspect change, Master Two! Contact is charging its Lawrence drive, sir.”
“TAO, belay last order. Target Master Two’s engines instead.”
“They cannot possibly operate their wormhole drives safely,” Aibek stated, more as a fact than a question.
“I concur, XO. But if they want to try to escape, that’s the only option. Communications, signal Master Two, demand an immediate surrender.”
“Conn, TAO. Firing solutions set, sir,” Kelsey reported.
In the split second before David could open his mouth to order weapons release, Kelsey interrupted him. “Conn, TAO. LIDAR effects! Master Two’s Lawrence drive is going critical, sir. I’m detecting exotic particles off the chart.”
David closed his eyes for a brief moment, knowing what would happen next, having seen it too many times throughout his career as a space warfare officer. On the tactical plot, the League ship exploded; its blast radius tight enough that heavy damage occurred to several nearby enemy and CDF ships. Despite seeing the sensor readout, he still spoke. “TAO, any life pod launches?”
“No, sir.”
Another three thousand lives wiped away by my hand. We knew where they’d be, we dialed in the shot, and they never had a chance. Kind of blurs the line between war and murder, doesn’t it?
“Conn, communications. Remaining League vessels are requesting surrender terms.”
“Standard terms, Lieutenant,” David replied as he steepled his fingers together.
“Another fine battle, sir,” Aibek said.
“You don’t ever get tired of this, do you?”
“Not really. It makes me feel alive.”
“It doesn’t make them feel alive,” David replied, pointing up at the few remaining red icons on the screen.
“Perhaps not. They are not the ones I am concerned with, though.”
“I envy you at times, XO,” David said, staring forward into the dark of space.
26
A series of thermonuclear explosions lit up space to the right side of Amir. His integrated HUD briefly went blank and formed a protective shield for his eyes, saving him from blindness. They’re using anti-ship missiles against us?
“I show six fighters down, Colonel,” Hume said across the commlink.
More fusion thunderclaps went off, again turning the darkness of space to pure white light.
“All squadrons, break formation and go to loose spread,” Amir ordered, his voice loud and insistent. “Enemy is using its anti-ship munitions against us for area denial.”
A dozen, then more blue icons blinked off his tactical plot, each representing a loss of craft and the probable death of one of his pilots. Damn the Leaguers. They’d suffered lightly so far, both in fighters and merchant vessels, while eliminating over half the enemy force. Still, each one was another life that Amir felt in his bones.
“Colonel, I analyzed the fire pattern of those missiles. It looks to me like the remaining Rand is orchestrating the volleys,” Hume interjected, interrupting Amir’s thoughts.
He mentally tagged the closest Cobra as a priority target. “Major, I need bomber support on Master Nine. Once we open up a lane… we’ll redirect to the Rand.”
“Aye aye, sir. Help’s on the way.”
Amir rolled his fighter, taking care to leave a large gap—five kilometers—between him and his nearest wingman. Fusion warheads, while fearsome weapons, attenuated quickly in the vacuum of space. Red-hued plasma balls filled the area around him and the rest of the squadron while they sent their missiles and neutron cannon fire back toward the enemy. Even at a reasonably distant range, he could see repeated hits falling on the Cobra’s shields, each one marked by a reddish flare. Finally, they blinked out and the hits started landing on the hull.
“Master Nine shields have collapsed,” a wingman called into the commlink.
“Red Dawgs on station, Colonel. Lining up for ship strike,” a female voice Amir didn’t recognize at first interjected into the conversation. One of his newest squadron leaders, the Red Dawgs were a heavy bomber unit assigned to the Lion.
“Acknowledged.” Amir selected a LIDAR guided missile and targeted an active point defense emplacement on the destroyer they were attacking; he pressed the firing button at the same time he spoke into his commlink. “Knight One, Fox three.”
The missile detached from his fighter and raced toward the Cobra. It impacted with a small explosion, and the outgoing fir
e ceased—Scratch one PD gun. New icons in his HUD sprang to life, showing anti-ship missile launches from a squadron of bombers. Over several seconds, they accelerated before the images merged on top of the enemy vessel. Progressively larger explosions broke out, followed by a massive one, which reduced the ship to debris.
“That’s a confirmed kill, Colonel. Red Dawgs breaking off.”
Hume’s voice filled the comm. “Still feeling good about taking a run at the Rand, sir?”
Another blue icon disappearing from his HUD underscored the race against time as Amir opened his mouth. “Yes, Major. Form up as many bombers as you can peel off, and we’ll run interference. The merchant ships can’t jump for another ten minutes without risk of self-destruction from their Lawrence drives, and we need to finish this off.”
“Aye aye, sir. We’ll be there.”
“Insha’Allah,” Amir said in his rich baritone voice as he again rolled his fighter, pointing the nose toward a distant speck on his HUD: Master Two, the last enemy cruiser. Engaging the afterburner, he transmitted orders mentally through the interface in his helmet to the rest of the Grim Reapers. They too formed on his wing along with another squadron of Phantoms.
A far larger and more capable opponent, the Rand grew larger and larger, its point defense suite lashing out at the approaching CDF squadrons. A wave of bright flashes erupted in front of Amir’s fighter, and he instinctively pulled up on the flight stick. It raced ahead to outrun the shockwaves of nuclear fire. Jolted within the cockpit, he took note of several more blue icons that winked out; one was a Grim Reaper.
With no time to grieve, Amir focused his energy on the enemy ship that lay before him. Opening up with his neutron cannons, he triggered several bursts of bright blue energy pulses that impacted on its protective screens, triggering the same red flash. Made from slightly sterner stuff, the cruiser shrugged off the combined assault of two squadrons and kept up concentrated point defense fire. Forced to pull up to avoid ramming into the top of the Rand, he zoomed away to prepare for another pass.
“Mayday, mayday, this is Black Lion five, declaring an emergency. I’m eject—” The calm and measured voice of the pilot cut off mid-word.
Amir’s face twisted in anger at yet another one of his pilots cut down. “Major, where are the bombers?”
“ETA three minutes, Colonel. Got caught up dealing with another frigate.”
“Acknowledged.”
Looping around, Amir lined the cruiser up once again in his sights; pushing up the afterburner to maximum thrust, he sought to cut down on time spent in the danger zone of optimal engagement for the enemy. Firing on the neutron cannons, he called into his comm, “Reaper One, guns, guns, guns.”
Red flashes spread across the shields of the cruiser, the pinpricks of the two squadrons taking their toll. As Amir prepared to pull away, he realized with a start that the Rand was preparing to fire its missiles again; the launch doors were open. Deciding to test a hunch, he maintained fire until the last possible second, disrupting the defense screens.
His guess was rewarded when the Rand launched a missile which impacted on the shield distortions and exploded rather than flying through as designed. The bright flash of the fusion reaction momentary blinded Amir’s helmet visor and his craft’s sensors. He picked a course he thought would take him away from the ship and flew by the seat of his pants.
When the interference cleared a few seconds later, Amir was gratified to see dozens of icons representing CDF missiles headed straight in for the Rand. Its shields showed as non-existent on his readout, and the warheads impacted directly onto the armored hull. Explosions erupted out from the cruiser, while all outgoing fire from it ceased. Finally, his sensors showed the reactor of the enemy ship going super-critical, and without further warning, the entire thing blew up.
“Allu Akbar!” Amir yelled into his commlink.
“Nice shooting, Colonel. How’d you pull that off anyway?” Hume asked.
“Just a lucky guess, Major. What’s left?”
“A few frigates to mop up. Wait, no, they’re jumping out.”
Amir pulled up the larger battle map overlay and confirmed what his XO told him; the League ships were bugging out. It only cost us forty-eight fighters and bombers, he considered somberly. Too many. Always too many. “I will contact the Lion of Judah. Perform a damage assessment for our Merchant Marine friends, Major.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
A few minutes later, Amir heard Taylor’s voice across the void of space. “Colonel Amir, can you read me?”
“Yes, Lieutenant, I read you loud and clear. Please pass on to Colonel Cohen our mission has been accomplished by the will of Allah. The League force is shattered; we need search and rescue support as soon as you can return to us.”
“Understood, Colonel. I’ll pass it on. If I may, sir, good show. Godspeed, we’ll see you soon.”
Susanna lay prone in the tall grass about a hundred meters from the wall of the League military installation the team was preparing to attack. She could hear her heart beating in her chest while she cradled the electronic spotting scope that Mata had shown her how to use a little over an hour previously.
“One,” Mata whispered into his commlink. “This is Four. How copy, over?”
“Four, solid copy,” MacDonald’s voice sounded through the commlink.
Susanna was still having trouble getting used to formfitting armor and helmet she wore. It’s like a second skin. It flows with me. She marveled at the technology. I can’t believe I’ve adapted so quickly to using this… what did they call it? Oh yes, gear. Father would be so ashamed of me.
“Six and I have tangos sighted in.”
“Understood, Four. Hold position and stand by to execute.”
“What the hell is he waiting for?” Meissner grumbled. He was a meter away from Susanna, to her left, while Mata was a similar distance to the right.
“Only God knows,” Mata said with a snicker. “Eight, any other tangos on the scope?”
It took Susanna’s brain a few seconds to process that he was talking to her. “No other people, uh, tangos on the scope, sir.”
“Don’t call me ‘sir.’ I work for a living,” Mata responded with a slight lilt to his voice.
“Habit,” Susanna said, her face turning red inside of the helmet. “Any elder is sir or ma’am.”
“We’ll PT it out of you later,” Meissner said, joining in the ribbing.
MacDonald’s voice suddenly cut into their banter. “Alpha Four, you have a go. Execute, execute, execute.”
Both commandos squeezed their respective triggers at nearly the same time. Susanna heard the harsh metallic click of the firing pins coming down and little else. A split second later, watching through the scope, she saw small puffs of what looked like a cloud explode from the back of each Leaguer’s head, and they collapsed in a heap in their respective guard towers.
“One, this is Four. Tangos down,” Mata reported.
“Acknowledged, Four. Maintain overwatch as we ingress the target,” MacDonald ordered.
Through the scope, Susanna saw a group of figures stand and sprint across the field, somehow blending into the grass as if light reflected off of them. I feel alive for some reason, I can’t explain. It makes me feel equally horrified and happy I’m able to help save my planet. Fighting down the thoughts within her, she focused on the task at hand and kept scanning for additional targets.
27
Ruth was second to last in the formation of four commandos, led by MacDonald. They covered the distance at a full run, using every bit of momentum assist their power armor could provide. She found herself winded by the time they came to a stop directly under the wall, much to her chagrin. MacDonald aimed his right gauntlet upward toward the guard tower they were standing under. A small grappling hook shot up and dug itself into the wall.
“Not working out enough, Lieutenant?” Harrell commented through the commlink.
“Oh, stow it, Senior Chief,”
Ruth snapped between deep breaths.
“Cover me,” MacDonald said, triggering the grapple and lifting in the air.
“That’s pretty neat tech, Master Chief,” Ruth said, staring at him as he scaled the twenty-foot-tall wall like it was a simple rock-climbing course for children.
“Not even the half of it. You can pee in these things without shorting them out,” Rostami commented.
“There’s a reason you don’t get dates, Rostami,” Ruth said, unable to contain rolling her eyes.
“Quit your yakking and get up here, Rostami,” MacDonald barked, cutting off the exchange.
Moving quickly, Rostami triggered his grappler and propelled up. Little was said as Ahmad followed.
“Your turn, Lieutenant,” Harrell said. “I’ll cover you and go last.”
“Roger that, Senior Chief,” Ruth replied, turning toward to the guard tower, raising her right arm and clenching her fist to trigger the grappling hook. The first try was a failure; the hook failed to latch on. After retracting the wire back, she tried again, finding success. Okay, this is pretty cool. She flew up the side of the wall, the plasticrete façade whizzing by. Using the servo-assisted arms, she toppled over the lip of the outcropping and landed with a thud, surrounded by the others.
“Quiet!” MacDonald whispered. “Get to the side so Harrell can get in. Two, you’re clear.”
“Understood, One,” Harrell replied.
Ruth crouched at the edge of the ladder, peering over the side into the League base. As far as she could see, there was no movement and no other people visible. “Completely quiet out here, Master Chief,” she said quietly into her commlink.
“I still have ten percent odds of success for this half-assed op,” MacDonald retorted as he dropped next to her. “Two, Three, and Five, take up positions along the building,” he ordered, marking a nearby structure in their respective HUDs. “Four, Six, and Eight, get up here, ASAP.”