Sol Strike (Battlegroup Z Book 3)

by Daniel Gibbs

  “Uh, wilco, Astute. Didn’t realize you guys were still out there.”

  “We’ve maintained comms silence to preserve stealth, but now that your ride has arrived, it seemed like a good time to pitch in.”

  A good time indeed. The hope that had sprung up in him after the Greengold’s arrival grew.

  “Can you hear me, Spencer?” Martin asked.

  “Go ahead, Lieutenant.”

  “Even if they take out a couple of those League ships, we still have to take down two more to make sure the most heavily damaged fighters can land. I’m not leaving my mates again. You hear me?”

  “We’ll do the best we can, Francis.” Justin used Martin’s first name for emphasis. “That’s all we can do, okay?”

  “Yeah. We’ll see. Get my mates home. That’s all that matters.”

  I wonder what’s up with him. Martin’s mood had shifted as the war went on, and he’d become less and less the outgoing, boisterous pilot and more of a reserved man wrestling with loss.

  But Justin had no time for further rumination, as multiple new icons appeared on his HUD. Starbolt missiles erupted from two contacts marked as Terran Coalition stealth raiders. They raced away and separated toward two distinct targets: Master Six and Seven. League fighters were out of position to intercept, and with eight missiles per ship, the point-defense frigates couldn’t shoot everything down. Bright miniature suns blossomed against their shields, armor, and hull plating. One of the vessels simply ceased to exist, and the other split in two, tumbling through space.

  “Yeehaw! Good guys are here!” Mateus yelled. “Take that, you League bastards.”

  As emotion rushed through Justin, new groups of red icons appeared. “Eyes front, pilots. We’ve got more incoming. Alpha, form on me and prepare to defend the stragglers. Green, Martin, you guys do the same. Only a few minutes more, and we’re outta here.” No matter the odds. They don’t get through us. Enough of our friends died today.

  On the bridge of the Zvika Greengold, Tehrani and the rest of the bridge crew rocked in their harnesses as masses of incoming plasma-cannon fire and the League’s version of neutron beams found them. So far, the carrier’s automated point defense was keeping up with hostile missiles, but it was only a matter of time until masses of energy overwhelmed their shields. She had flashbacks to the battle of Canaan and how rapidly their ability to fight had faded once a few close-in weapons system emplacements were offline.

  “Conn, TAO. Master Six destroyed, ma’am,” Bryan said. That made two enemy frigates eliminated by the Starbolt missiles loosed from the Astute and Leviathan.

  “TAO, shield status, Master Five?”

  “Under ten percent, ma’am.”

  “In that case, firing point procedures, forward neutron beams, Master Five.”

  “Firing solution set, ma’am.”

  “Match bearings, shoot, forward neutron beams.”

  Again the twin energy-weapon emitters on the bow of the Greengold erupted with dual blue neutron beams. They slammed into the weakened shields of the enemy vessel and, after a few moments, punched through. The brittle and thin armor the frigates sported was no match, and a second after making contact, the spears of light blew out the other side. Unlike the last two ships, Master Five didn’t explode violently. Instead, the running lights blinked off, and it began to tumble out of control.

  “Conn, TAO. Master Five disabled. Her reactor is offline, and she’s dead in space.”

  Three down, two to go. Every second felt like borrowed time. With a glance at the tactical plot, Tehrani set her jaw. “Navigation, bring us about. Intercept course, Master Eight. All ahead, two-thirds.”

  “Aye, aye, ma’am,” Mitzner replied tightly.

  Terran Coalition stealth raiders were extraordinary pieces of technology. They were designed to remain invisible on the battlefield, strike fast, and disappear—not engage in straight-up slugfests. During the Saurian Wars, they’d provided invaluable interdiction capabilities far behind enemy lines and disrupted the enemy’s logistics in ways the Saurians hadn’t considered. There was no place to hide in the current battle—nowhere to escape to once they announced their presence with a brace of Starbolt missiles. The League destroyer and its remaining frigate consorts poured every ounce of firepower they had into the Leviathan as it attempted to slip away.

  Wright wrinkled his nose. “Sierra Two just lost aft shields. They have hull breaches across their engineering spaces.”

  “TAO, are we close enough to extend our shields?” Tehrani asked.

  “Negative, ma’am,” Bryan replied.

  Before Tehrani could open her mouth to give the next order, a bright-red beam lashed out from the enemy Cobra-class destroyer and sliced through the unshielded aft section of the Leviathan. She held her breath, hoping the damaged stealth raider could shrug off the hit. A few moments later, the neutron beam burst out the other side, and the entire back half of the ship exploded. The front section tumbled through the void, venting atmosphere.

  “My God,” Wright whispered.

  “We can’t do anything for them except finish the job,” Tehrani said loudly. “Remember our battle cry. No matter the odds.”

  “Conn, Communications,” Singh interjected. “I’ve got the CAG for you, ma’am, priority message. I think he’s strapped into a Sabre.”

  “What?” Wright asked.

  Tehrani hit the toggle on her chair to activate the mic. “Major, we’re a little busy up here. What can I do for you?”

  “I need clearance to launch, ma’am. I’ve got the eight reserve Sabres ready to go. We’ll try to even up the odds a little.”

  Whatley’s space-superiority element might mix it up with the League fighters buzzing around them, but the Sabre wasn’t designed to attack capital-class vessels. Tehrani set her jaw. “Did you have them reloaded for anti-ship combat, Major?” In a pinch, they could fire Javelin missiles.

  “No time, ma’am.”

  If I let him go out there to attack those frigates, he’s not coming back. Tehrani was caught in a rare indecisive moment, but her heart won. “Negative, CAG. I won’t waste your life. Sit tight, and if we attract too much fast-mover attention, I’ll reconsider.”

  “With respect, ma’am, it’s my people out there and my life to give.”

  She forced as much steel into her tone as possible. “That’s a direct order, Major. Stand down.”

  Seconds passed before he replied, “Aye, aye, ma’am.”

  Tehrani picked her next target. The math still didn’t work, but the die had been cast. Soon they would take armor and hull hits from the Leaguers, and they still had three ships to deal with in the next five minutes. Allah help us all.

  20

  The League fighters gave Justin and what remained of the Zvika Greengold’s Ghost squadrons everything they could handle and then some. As he jinked in and out of the kill zone behind an enemy craft, another Leaguer got onto his tail. Red plasma balls zipped by the cockpit canopy as he tried to finish off the wounded Shrike in front of him.

  “Alpha One to any Alpha element fighters, get this bandit off me.” He gritted his teeth and held down the firing trigger for the miniature neutron cannons.

  A Vulture active LIDAR-tracking missile connected with the enemy chasing him and blew it out of space. “Got your back, sir,” Feldstein said.

  With the distraction removed, Justin focused on the fighter he was pursuing, noting the pattern of movements from the League pilot. He adjusted his attack angle and squeezed the integrated trigger on his flight stick, sending dozens of neutron-cannon bolts into the void. The enemy craft lost its aft shielding and quickly disintegrated into a bright-orange explosion. Justin sighed with relief and scanned his HUD. “There are still two frigates between the Greengold and us.” The destroyer didn’t worry him, because its point-defense systems weren’t nearly as effective as the upgraded frigates.

  “Zvika Greengold actual to Alpha One.” Tehrani cut through the comms chatter.

&
nbsp; “Go ahead, Colonel. I read you loud and clear,” Justin replied.

  “We’re taking hits on the outer armor, Captain. It’s past time to get your squadrons on board.”

  “Agree, ma’am, but there’s too much flak coming in for us to land.”

  After a pause, she asked, “Do you have any anti-ship missiles left?”

  Justin took a moment to check the squadron-level stores tracker. “I don’t, ma’am. Between all remaining fighters, we have seven, spread across four Ghosts.”

  “Set your primary target as Master Four, Captain. We’ve got Master Eight. Tehrani out.”

  Her orders made sense because they’d already knocked Master Four’s shields down a bit before the Greengold arrived. But how is our carrier going to handle Master Eight by itself? After a moment, he realized it wasn’t his problem. Tehrani had never let them down. He keyed his commlink for a private channel to Martin. “I’ve got a job for you, Lieutenant.”

  “At your service, mate. What needs blowing up?”

  “Master Four. I show four of your fighters with Javelins. Alpha will escort you in, and we’ll take out the frigate then go home. Sound good?”

  “Yeah, mate, sounds really good.” Martin’s voice had a hard edge to it. “Let’s do it.”

  “Stay close. That’s an order.” Justin flipped the commlink back to the Alpha element channel. “Alpha, we’re going to provide cover for an attack on Master Four. Form up on my wing. Lieutenant Martin and his pilots get through, no matter what. Are we clear?”

  “Loud and clear, sir,” Adeoye replied.

  “Time to kill some Leaguers,” Mateus said as she rolled into the last position of the finger-four formation.

  With adrenaline coursing through his veins, Justin lined up on an intercept vector with Echo One, Martin’s fighter. The battlespace was mercifully light on League fighters and interceptors, as most of the resistance came from the deadly frigates and their enhanced point defense. With the rest of the Ghosts loitering outside of weapons range, the four craft with Javelins and Alpha element pawed the vacuum.

  Red dots appeared on the HUD as a flight of four Shrike fighters launched from Master Four. They accelerated quickly and seemed to target Echo element over Alpha.

  Justin keyed his commlink. “Alpha One, break and attack inbound bandits. Weapons free, but watch your stores. Make every shot count.”

  “Aye, aye, sir,” Feldstein replied.

  Coming in at an angle, Justin lined the lead fighter up in his HUD. The missile-lock-on tone buzzed, and he squeezed the launch button. “Alpha One, fox three.” His last active LIDAR-tracking Vulture dropped out of the internal weapons bay and raced away. A moment later, the targeting reticle lit up, showing the enemy in range of his miniature neutron cannon. He pulled the trigger and sent a barrage of blue energy bolts into the void.

  The League pilot seemed to have a single-minded focus on another friendly fighter and didn’t maneuver in the face of Justin’s fusillade. The Vulture slammed into its shields, followed by a few dozen neutron-cannon bolts. The fighter exploded then disintegrated in the space of a few seconds with no trace it had ever existed.

  Justin didn’t bother to call out the kill—he was too busy tracking the next enemy. Two more red dots disappeared from the LIDAR, victims of Feldstein and Adeoye. Their destruction opened a hole for the Javelin-bearing Ghosts to press the attack on the League frigate. “Echo flight, you’re clear. We’ll cover your six.”

  The four craft of Echo element zoomed ahead on attack runs against Master Four. They launched four Javelin missiles toward the target then slid onto a new vector, sending streams of neutron-cannon bolts into the capital ship’s shields. Matched by Justin and the rest of Alpha, the light show was impressive but resulted in little damage to the energy barriers.

  Come on. Come on. Justin wished the anti-ship warheads on their way as they dodged point-defense fire from the frigate. The closer they got to the ship, the more accurate the incoming shots became. One Javelin disappeared, followed by another, and finally the last two. The vessel shifted its focus to the Ghosts and shredded Echo Four.

  “Pull out! Pull out!” Justin barked. “We’ll take another pass.”

  As the fighters tried to juke and evade the frigate’s bombardment, another Echo wingman exploded.

  “We’ll never get through this,” Martin replied. “Spencer, get my mates home.”

  Justin felt as if someone had stabbed his heart. He immediately knew what Martin had planned, which was doubly confirmed as the Aussie’s Ghost rolled back toward the League vessel. “Lieutenant, break off. That’s a direct order from your commanding officer.”

  The Ghost pressed onward stubbornly, juking on random headings but closing the distance steadily. “I’ve got two Javelins left, mate. If I can send everything up, including my reactor, at the right time, I might be able to even the odds.”

  “Not at the cost of your life,” Justin replied. He could do nothing to help his friend or stop him. It felt as if the universe were coming apart in front of Justin’s eyes. “We’ll find another way.”

  “I should’ve died back at Canaan, mate. One of my boys gave his life for me. I’m doing the same for you. Get our pilots home, Spencer.”

  A tear fell from Justin’s right eye. He had no time for emotion or grieving. Who am I kidding? I probably won’t survive the next five minutes. None of us will. Determined to take as many Leaguers with him as possible, he said, “If we make it out of here, I’ll never forget you, Francis.”

  “It’s been an honor to fly with all of you,” Martin replied. “Give these buggers hell.” His fighter entered terminal approach, coming in from behind the engines and avoiding most of the bow-mounted point-defense weapons. He popped up above the superstructure and dove toward the shuttle bay. At the last moment, four Starbolt missiles appeared on the sensor screen, presumably fired by a stealth raider.

  The resulting explosion was colossal, and the glare of it blinded Justin for a few seconds. When he could see again, a gaping, molten hole had grown where the frigate’s shuttle bay existed moments before. Yes! Elation took over as the point-defense fire immediately disappeared but was replaced by a somber realization that a good man had given his life for the result.

  “CSV Zvika Greengold actual to all fighters,” Tehrani’s said. “Evasive maneuvers. Maintain separation from Master Eight.”

  As Justin wondered what she had planned, twin beams of energy erupted from the Greengold’s bow and connected with the deflectors of the remaining operational League PD vessel. He’d seen the neutron beams fired many times, but something was different. They seemed even brighter than usual and were sustained for an extended period. After five seconds, Master Eight’s shields failed, and the blue spears blew through the hull and out the other side. Son of a… A moment later, the vessel exploded into one-meter chunks.

  “How’d they do that?” Feldstein asked.

  Justin pushed the shock he felt aside and cued his commlink. “Alpha One to all pilots, best speed to the Greengold now.” Taking his own advice, Justin rolled his fighter toward the beckoning flight deck of their carrier. “Push it up.”

  With the path cleared, the remaining friendlies streaked through the void. Some were noticeably slower than others because of battle damage and limped along. Justin slowed his craft, since they were the least able to defend themselves. While the CDF fighters retreated, numerous red icons appeared on his HUD. At least an entire squadron launched from the League destroyer still engaging the Zvika Greengold, while dozens more streamed out of the vessels approaching them at flank speed.

  It didn’t take long for Justin to realize the enemy fighters heading toward them would overtake the crippled Ghosts before they reached the safety of the carrier. What he must do was clear, especially after Martin’s sacrifice. Justin cued his commlink. “Alpha One to Alpha element, head back to home plate. I’m going to slow down the incoming bandits long enough for everyone else to dock. I hope, anyway.”
/>
  “We’re not leaving you, sir,” Feldstein said, her voice strained with emotion. “You go, we go.”

  “I won’t ask you to—”

  “You don’t have to ask, sir. We stand with you,” Adeoye interjected. “God will bless us.”

  Some blessing. “Okay, then form up on my wing. We’ll fire what remaining missiles we have and try to mix it up with energy—”

  “Belay that order!” Whatley cut in. “Captain, you are to withdraw with your remaining fighters. I’ve got this.”

  Justin scanned his sensor screen, and to his surprise, eight new blue icons separated from the Zvika Greengold and raced toward the Ghost formation on full afterburners. What? Sabres! He quickly deduced that they were the pilots from the freighter raid and the few reserves they had aboard. “Don’t have to tell me twice this time, sir.”

  “Spencer obeying an order. Dear Lord, there’s a first time for everything.” Whatley’s voice was gruff, but it held something it rarely had: respect. “Captain, bug out bearing two-seven-eight.”

  “Aye, aye, sir. All pilots, break to heading two-seven-eight. Maintain formation with the slowest fighter.” Justin looped his craft around in a one-hundred-eighty-degree turn. Even though he no longer had a bird’s-eye view of the battlefield, the sensor display gave him a lifeline to how the battle was progressing. On it, dozens of blue dots representing missiles streaked away from the CAG and his flight of Sabres, headed toward the nearest group of Leaguers.

  While the enemy pilots dodged the incoming warheads, the damaged Ghosts pressed ever closer to the Greengold. Fighter after fighter landed on the deck at combat speed then were grabbed by the arrestor fields and dragged out of the flight line to make way for another craft. In less than two minutes, almost all of them were secured.

  Justin cued his commlink to Whatley’s private channel. “Major, all elements except Alpha are down. Time for you to bug out, sir.”