by Daniel Gibbs
Calvin charged out of the cargo area of the shuttle as soon as the ramp hit the gravel, followed closely by the entire contents of the shuttle; twenty-one more battle-rifle-carrying combatants. The two other shuttles had landed close by; they also discharged their passengers before all three lifted off. As that happened, he took stock of the battlefield and identified hardpoints had been destroyed, but enemy troops were massing near the entrance to the facility.
“Sisters, at ‘em!” Calvin yelled into his open commlink. “All squads forward! Our target is that building entrance! Light them up!”
While he ran, Calvin fired his battle rifle at the troops that were congregated around the entrance, felling several; the well-trained sisters joined in, dropping more and causing them to take cover. “Grenades!” he ordered, lifting his battle rifle and triggering the underslung grenade launcher. Several other nuns did so as well, and the enemy troops that thought they were safely in cover were suddenly hit with fragmentation grenades exploding behind them.
Momentum in combat is such a fickle thing, Calvin considered briefly as he charged across the field at an all-out run. The Monrovians, shocked by the death and destruction caused by the grenades, began to desert the battle line they’d formed and ran back into the facility. As soon as that happened, he knew they had them. He jumped over the first barricade using the assist of his power armor and landed on the other side, discharging his battle rifle at point-blank range into the chest of two unlucky Monrovian soldiers.
Other sisters and some of the braver civilians jumped the makeshift strongpoint as well, causing a mass melee to break out. Before long, Calvin had dropped his battle rifle in its one-point sling and drawn his sidearm, systematically taking down enemy combatants at close range. Looking to his right, he saw the wounded nun from before, with her arm in a sling, doing the same thing. Chuckling to himself as he ran out of ammunition, he used his sidearm as a club, knocking Monrovians out with a direct bash to the head.
As the last few scampered away, Simone appeared at his side. “Not bad for an old guy, Colonel.”
“Who the heck are you calling old, young whippersnapper?” Calvin retorted good-naturedly.
“We only took a couple of casualties taking this position. One fatality. I suppose I should be grateful that the cost thus far is light.”
“We’ll worry about it after we finish the fight. Get some explosives up here and blow the damn door. If they get too much time to regroup, this will be far costlier than it ought to be.”
“Yes, Colonel!” Simone said crisply while turning to look for the nun that had experience with door breaches.
Calvin reloaded his battle rifle and sidearm, preparing for the next wave. We might pull this half-assed op off.
32
Thousands of kilometers away, Amir rolled his fighter and pulled back hard on his flight stick, trying to throw off pursuing missiles and enemy craft. They had successfully evaded the first wave of enemy SAMs, but now there were more aircraft in the fray. Twelve League fighters were now in the air and were charging toward his formation.
“Sister Arendse,” Amir said into the private commlink reserved for the two of them. “I believe we have no choice but to jettison our bombs and focus on the air-to-air fight.”
“But we’ll be overrun if that happens,” Arendse insisted. “Someone has to bomb those fighters out of existence.”
“We’ll have to strafe them, then. But only after we deal with the enemy in front of us.”
There was a pregnant pause on the commlink. “Some of us could lead a suicide attack. Come in at a high angle of attack, drop the bombs, and well… who cares if we survive or not.”
“No, we all try to come out of this alive. To do anything else is wrong.”
“I’ll follow your lead, for now, Colonel. I’m not allowing these evil doers to kill my sisters. Whatever it takes to stop them.”
“Trust in Allah and his will,” Amir said as he cut over to the primary squadron channel. “Christus flight, jettison all bombs! Configure to air-to-air focus!”
“Confirm that order, Colonel,” one of the sisters replied.
“I say again, jettison all bombs and prepare for air-to-air combat!” Amir barked, brooking no discussion.
Acknowledgments lit up his squadron communications board, with all ten fighters signaling green. Amir cued up the command to drop his bombs without arming them; as soon as they left the pylons, his craft was instantly far more maneuverable and agile. Calling up his air-to-air tactical overlay on the HUD, he noted that the enemy fighters were three hundred kilometers away and on a direct intercept course. “Tally ho!” Amir called into the comm. “Twelve bandits, two o’clock! Range, three hundred kilometers. Stand by for maximum BVR missile launch! Weapons free!” BVR stood for Beyond Visual Range.
The flight of ten Phantoms angled to the right, shifting their heading to point straight on at the closing League fighters. The missile tone sounded in Amir’s cockpit, the advanced LIDAR targeting system achieving a lock. “Christus One, Fox three!”
“Christus Two, Fox three!”
“Christus Seven, Fox three!”
The other pilots called launches, and Amir tracked the inbound missiles through his HUD. A few seconds later, he observed enemy missiles launching. “Christus flight, take evasive action. Inbound air-to-air missiles.”
Pulling back hard on the flight stick, Amir headed up and dropped chaff behind him. His three wingmen did the same, following in close formation. The other two groups of three fighters scattered off on different headings, doing their best to confuse the enemy threat. He watched as their salvo of missiles mostly hit chaff jettisoned by the League pilots or was spoofed by ECM. Still, two League icons blinked out of existence.
Amir tracked the incoming missiles and was gratified that superior Terran Coalition ECM spoofed the ones headed toward his element; one of his other squads wasn’t so lucky. The most damaged fighter couldn’t jink and maneuver like the others, and it was bracketed by two League missiles, erasing it from existence. He winced, aware the sister who piloted it went into combat knowing she was in a limited craft but had never wavered. Real courage.
“Christus flight, we’re at a disadvantage in BVR combat. Follow me in; we’re going to close in and engage them close up,” Amir said.
“You're using the same tactics the Monrovians used on us,” Arendse commented on their private channel.
“Correct, Sister. It’s the right move given our situation.”
“And then?”
“Once we’ve defeated this group of fighters, we’ll try to engage the remaining craft on the ground before they can launch.”
“That’s a long shot, Colonel.”
“I know,” Amir replied, not feeling very good about their odds himself.
While the dogfight continued, Ruth monitored the situation from the bridge of the Lion of Judah. They had established the location of the two bases on the ground that had League fighters stationed at them and were actively monitoring the airspace. She called back to Aibek, “Conn, TAO! Confirm twelve League fighters have appeared on our screens and are engaging friendly contacts.”
“Acknowledged, TAO.”
“Sir, I believe the friendly forces were trying to take out the enemy craft on the ground.”
“Did they succeed?” Aibek asked.
“Negative, sir. They were unable to engage before being attacked by airborne League assets and surface-to-air missile systems that appear to be the latest and greatest in the League’s arsenal.”
“We don’t know that they’re League assets, Lieutenant. They could have Monrovian pilots.”
Ruth turned around in her chair and stared at Aibek. “With respect, sir, there’s little chance green pilots are performing the kind of maneuvers I’m seeing. They’re up against expert-level combatants. Same goes for those SAMs.”
“Even if that’s accurate, what does it change?”
“If they’re actual League assets, we have
the authority to engage.”
“I’m under specific orders not to engage any target on Monrovia, Lieutenant,” Aibek responded.
Ruth realized that the bridge had become very quiet. Open discussion of this nature didn’t happen on a CDF ship. “Sir, they’ve got another fifty or so sixth generation fighters down there. Once they start getting them into the air, Colonel Amir won’t have a chance.”
“Do we have a fix on the exact location of the League fighters and sensor systems for the SAMs?”
“Yes, sir. They’re parked out in the open. I have them down to the centimeter.”
Ruth wondered what was going through Aibek’s mind; his facial expression was harsh with his eyes narrowed, and his mouth tight. “Neutron cannons?” he asked in an open-ended manner.
“They’d be our most effective weapon, sir. Missiles would destroy far too much area around the planes, as would mag-cannon rounds. Energy weapons would be the weapon of choice.”
There was a multiple-second pause as Aibek just sat there; Ruth could almost see the tug-of-war going on in his mind. Finally, he punched a button on the CO’s chair that engaged the built-in microphone. “Attention, all hands, this is your XO. General Quarters! General Quarters! All hands, man your battle stations! I say again, man your battle stations! Set condition one throughout the ship! This is not a drill!”
As he spoke, Ruth swiveled around in her chair and punched in the commands to engage condition one; the lights on the bridge switched to a deep blue color that allowed them to see console readouts better.
“TAO, get me a firing solution on the League fighters and SAMs. All of them.”
“Conn, TAO, acquiring firing solutions, sir.”
It took Ruth a few minutes; she had to plot an individual solution for each fighter in order to ensure hitting all of the targets. “Conn, TAO, firing solutions confirmed.”
“TAO, firing point procedures, neutron cannons, League fighters, and SAMs.”
“Conn, TAO, ready to engage, sir,” Ruth answered back forcefully.
“TAO, match bearings, shoot, neutron cannons!”
Ruth triggered the firing sequence, and the Lion’s neutron cannon emitters roared to life. Potent beams of blue energy issued from the ship, each strike erasing a fighter or SAM missile pod from existence. It took twenty seconds to cycle through the entire list of targets, but when they finished, no active enemy contacts remained.
“Conn, TAO, enemy targets neutralized.”
“Good shooting, Lieutenant,” Aibek replied. “Status of the air-to-air engagement?”
“Amir’s flight has splashed four bandits while taking one loss. They’re continuing to engage.”
“Continue to monitor the situation.”
“Yes, sir,” Ruth replied, watching her tactical screen like a hawk.
33
“Colonel! Did you see that? Weapons fire from space!” Arendse shouted into her commlink, professionalism giving way to joy.
“Christus One, guns, guns, guns!” Amir called out, squeezing the trigger to fire his miniature neutron cannons; a moment later, the League fighter he was chasing exploded, raining debris over the battlefield.
“I did indeed, Sister! I’m unaware of any friendlies on station. Does your order have some friends we weren’t made aware of?”
“Not that know of, Colonel. My onboard computer classified those as ship-based neutron cannon strikes. Not from something small either. The impacts were heavy cruiser or better strength.”
“I wonder…” Amir said, his voice trailing off. He switched to the commlink to the spacecraft emergency frequency, known among pilots as the Guard frequency. “This is Lieutenant Colonel Amir to any friendly CDF forces. Do you read me, over?”
“Colonel? Is that you? This is Lieutenant Taylor.”
“By Allah, it’s so good to hear your voice, Lieutenant,” Amir replied, momentarily overcome by emotion. “I wasn’t sure how we were getting out of this alive.”
“Do you guys need more help? Colonel Aibek has alert fighters warming up, and we’re preparing pararescue support if you need it.”
“We’ve eliminated all but two enemy craft. I believe we can finish them off and return to base. I’ll defer on the reinforcements. I know Colonel Cohen wants to avoid direct CDF involvement if at all possible.”
“Understood, Colonel. How’s everyone else? We’re pretty worried about Colonel Cohen up here.”
“Colonel Demood and some of the sisters are attempting to rescue him. How they’re faring, I don’t know.”
“Can you switch to a secure channel?”
“Negative, Lieutenant. We zeroed all crypto keys out when we transferred these birds to the sisters,” Amir replied with some irritation. That oversight was hurting them now.
“Okay, sir. We’ll stand by. Colonel Aibek asked me to wish you good luck and Godspeed.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant. Pass back that we’re very thankful for the help. Insha’Allah!” Amir replied, then mentally turned his commlink back to the private channel with Arendse. “The assist came from the Lion of Judah,” he announced.
“She’s back in orbit? What about additional reinforcements?”
“Unlikely. Orders were direct from Colonel Cohen that the ship wasn’t to get involved. I would be reasonably certain that eradicating those fighters broke standing orders… not that you will find me complaining.”
“So, what now?”
Inside of his flight helmet, Amir’s face broke into a fierce grin. “Now, Sister, we finish off the enemy!”
Kaufman adjusted her helmet and reset the HUD. It had been causing her problems for days, but there wasn’t enough time for the sisters that kept up their armor to attempt a repair. The limited cycles they had were spent on patching power armor and making mission-critical fixes. There’s not enough time left to fix my silly HUD. She smacked the side of it. A moment later, the HUD reengaged.
“Colonel Amir to Alpha leader,” Amir’s voice registered through the commlink in Kaufman’s headset.
“This is Alpha leader, go ahead,” Kaufman promptly replied.
“Sister Kaufman, enemy air is gone. You are clear to proceed without fear of air-to-air interception.”
“Very good. Do you have any munitions left for close support?”
“Negative, Sister. All friendlies are Winchester, excepting energy weapons. We can strafe ground targets but lack any bombs or missiles.”
“Understood. Please stay on station as long as possible,” Kaufman said.
“Of course, Sister. Amir out.”
Kaufman keyed her commlink to the command channel. “Mother Superior, can you hear me?”
“Yes, child,” Sarno’s voice said, loud and true.
“If we’re going to attack, now is the time. We won’t have the benefit of air support, but there’s no enemy air to speak of either.”
“The odds will be even?”
Kaufman smiled to herself. “We’re the Little Sisters of Divine Recompense. The odds are always in our favor, because God’s on our side.”
The sound of polite chuckling echoed through the open commlink. “I have just received information that our social media targeting was successful. Mass protests have broken out across the planet, just as we had planned. Proceed with the attack, and we’ll carry the day,” Sarno replied.
“Yes, Mother Superior,” Kaufman replied. She sucked in a deep breath. “First battalion combat team, execute, execute, execute! Assault company, follow my shuttle in. The first objective is the roof!” Switching the commlink off for a moment, she leaned over to the pilot of her shuttle. “Take us in. I want to put the first boots down on this God forsaken building.”
“Yes, Sister!”
The shuttle pitched down while accelerating forward in a full power dive. Through the forward transparent metal windscreen, the clouds whipped by and were suddenly replaced by a view of the ground as they cleared the cloud layer. The air space around the shuttle was filled with dozens of ot
her shuttles in a similar high-speed approach. Surface-to-air missiles were volleyed toward the shuttles, only to harmlessly explode thanks to ECM pods that had been mounted to the craft. Utilizing their internal mounted rockets, Kaufman watched as return fire thundered out and erased many of the Monrovian defensive positions.
The ground rushed up at the windscreen as the shuttle leveled out its flight; within fifteen seconds, it hovered to a stop over one of several parapets that lined the roof of the central government complex building that was their target. Kaufman slapped the pilot on the shoulder and vaulted out of the cockpit, landing on the cargo floor. “Let’s go, Sisters!” she shouted at the top of her lungs while simultaneously triggering the manual rear ramp control. The rest of the nuns disengaged themselves from the harnesses that held them in place and seized their battle rifles. A few seconds later when the ramp was entirely down, she led the charge.
Kaufman landed on her feet, thanks to her power armor, while her compatriots thudded onto the roof directly behind her. “Squad one, secure the nearest roof access point. Squad two, secure the LZ,” she shouted as she moved up quickly toward the door that led into the complex, battle rifle up and aimed. Her platoon was barely out of the shuttle when the door burst open, and enemy soldiers streamed out.
Kaufman put a burst of stun rounds into the first soldier in her sights, and the squad she’d assigned to cover the door formed a firing line, and they shot down close to twenty soldiers before they quit emerging. “This is Sister Kaufman. I need two more platoons on my position, now,” she shouted into her commlink.
Not waiting for a response, she moved forward toward the door when power-armored Monrovians stepped out, firing on full automatic from weapons she instantly identified as League of Sol issued battle rifles. The report of that weapon is etched into my mind for as long as I draw breath in this universe. “Take cover, Sisters!”
Many stun rounds smacked into the power-armored Monrovian but had no effect. Two nuns dropped as the entire squad made a mad dash to a line of air-conditioning units that sat in the middle of the roof. All the while, more power-armored Monrovians came out of the doorway. “Switch to armor-piercing rounds, and aim for center mass,” Kaufman commanded.