While some races—like the Kellions, a nation of bipeds farther down the galactic arm than the Terrans—built small craft as armored balls with a pilot in the center, with imaging systems to provide full vision, the CDF didn’t. Human pilots had long insisted on being able to see the outside world, even with the risks it entailed. The cockpit of the Sabre had a bubble of transparent alloy that allowed a three-hundred-sixty-degree field of view.
Justin blinked as a blur of a black triangle with a red emblem raced by his canopy. His HUD froze the image, showing a stylized logo with a raised fist. I’ve never seen anything like that before. Scans of the enemy craft showed a weakening in its deflector shields, but it didn’t appear as if his shots had caused damage.
As Justin whipped his Sabre around, the missile-lock alarm sounded, cutting through his mental clutter. His HUD revealed that it was a heat seeker designed to home in on his engine. He deployed flares, and they streaked away. The enemy missile exploded, mistaking the decoy for his fighter.
He adjusted his heading toward the bandit and toggled his comms to the command frequency. “Zvika Greengold, this is Alpha One. We’ve engaged four bandits after they fired on us. Request immediate backup along with search and rescue. Two bandits splashed. I say again, two bandits splashed.”
“Alpha One, this is Zvika Greengold actual. What is your current status?” Tehrani asked.
“Colonel, we’re in an active dogfight with unknown hostiles. Request immediate assistance.” I don’t have time to brief the damn brass right now. Justin rocked his Sabre from side to side, dodging a wave of what appeared to be red balls of energy, something new in his experience. “Alpha One out.”
Justin shifted in his flight harness as his fighter traded spaces with the bandit during a series of high-speed scissor turns. Finally, he ended up behind his quarry and opened fire with the neutron cannons. Several hits later, he was rewarded with the explosion of the craft in front of him. “Alpha One, splash one.”
“Alpha Two, splash one. That’s all of ’em, sir.”
Before Justin could catch his breath, Colonel Tehrani interrupted. “Say again last, Alpha One.”
“Colonel, we’ve now splashed four hostiles.” Justin focused on calming his breathing, though his hands shook almost uncontrollably. “Again, request search and rescue.”
“Can you identify your attackers, Lieutenant Spencer?” Tehrani’s voice was calm but held an undercurrent of concern.
Rightfully so. Enemy fighters weren’t a regular feature of solar systems designated for CDF training operations, especially not ones well within the Terran Coalition’s territorial boundaries. “No, ma’am. I’ve never seen anything like them before. I’ll transmit my full sensor logs immediately.”
“Understood, Lieutenant. Pack it—”
Feldstein cut in, “I’ve got more hostiles on my LIDAR.”
“Additional bandits inbound, Colonel. Alpha One out.” That’s the second time I’ve cut off a senior officer today. Make that in my career.
Red dots appeared in his HUD, roughly one hundred kilometers away. “Form up on my wing, Alpha flight. Stand by for maximum missile range.” This time, we’re not waiting for these bastards to shoot first.
2
System 36XNZ—Open Space
Terran Coalition Border Zone
27 September 2433
Colonel Banu Tehrani stared straight ahead at the Tactical and Navigation consoles in front of the commanding officer’s chair on the CSV Zvika Greengold. While the escort carrier was over thirty-five years old, it had an illustrious name that went all the way back to Earth’s military history. As she sucked in a breath, numerous thoughts ran through her head, mostly centered on who was shooting at her pilots. After twenty-two years in the CDF, she’d only seen combat a handful of times and never as a CO.
Tehrani turned to her right and looked at her XO, Lieutenant Colonel Benjamin Wright. “Pirates?” She adjusted her ball cap, which was adorned with the Greengold’s logo and motto—Semper tempus, which translated to “Always in time.”
Wright shook his head. “Out here? No way. Pirates hit trade depots, not CDF fighters in an asteroid belt.” He shifted and pulled down the black space sweater he and most other officers and crewmen in the CDF wore over his khaki duty uniform. “Maybe the Coalition Intelligence Service got their hands on some advanced drones and is testing us. Though that seems outlandish, even for them.”
“Could be the Saurians,” First Lieutenant Zachary Bryan, the Zvika Greengold’s tactical action officer, interjected. “I don’t care what anyone says. They never forgave us for the plastering in the last war.”
“Hard to believe after over thirty years of peace.” Tehrani turned back at her XO. “What do we have on the flight line for ready five?”
“Four more Sabres with standard loadouts. And the usual SAR bird.”
“Get them into space and vector them toward Alpha flight.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Oh, and tell the air boss to warm up the rest of the Red Tails squadron, just in case.”
Wright nodded. “Better safe than sorry.”
“Trust in Allah and tie your camel to a tree.”
Bryan broke in, “Conn, TAO. Aspect change, multiple inbound wormholes. Unknown signature.”
Artificially created wormholes were the only known means of faster-than-light travel. The human version of the technology was known as a Lawrence drive, named after its creator.
Tehrani and Wright glanced at each other. She inhaled sharply and punched a button on her chair for the ship-wide intercom. “This is the commanding officer. General quarters, general quarters. Man your battle stations. This is not a drill. I say again, man your battle stations.” She clicked the intercom off. “TAO, set material condition one throughout the ship, raise shields, and charge the energy-weapons capacitor.”
While the Zvika Greengold had a full complement of thirty-six space-superiority fighters and bombers, it lacked offensive anti-ship weaponry. It had close-in point defense and a limited number of neutron-beam emitters to engage other vessels. “Communications, order our escorts back. Emergency jumps, as fast as they can safely make it.”
First Lieutenant Gopinath Singh’s bright-purple turban bobbed up and down. “Aye, aye, ma’am.” He’d been assigned to the ship for several months and was short, at not a centimeter over 1.7 meters. The handgrip of his distinctive blade, known as a kirpan, was just visible above his waist.
Singh’s left shoulder bore the flag for the nation of India and the Sikh religion. One of the unique features of CDF uniforms was dual flags on the left shoulder. Regulations permitted any soldier to wear their country’s flag and religious emblems or, if they preferred, solely the flag of the Terran Coalition.
“Conn, TAO. Unknown vessels confirmed. Three ships, all of the same type and size. Roughly equivalent to a CDF frigate. Contacts designated Sierra One through Three.”
“Sierra” indicated that the target was unknown or not hostile. In the absence of identification, a new contact was never labeled as hostile, to prevent a potential tragedy.
“They’re raising deflector screens, and I show weapons-power buildup. Type unknown.”
Tehrani’s heart raced as she stared at her tactical plot. The possibly hostile vessels were directly ahead of them. What is going on here? A sixth sense warned her they were moments away from combat, but it didn’t add up. The Terran Coalition was at peace. “Range, TAO?”
“Fifteen thousand kilometers. They’re accelerating toward us rapidly, ma’am.”
“Communications, put out a wide-band hail. Instruct Sierra One through Three to turn away, or we’ll treat them as hostile.”
“Aye, aye, ma’am.”
The purple dots representing the incoming vessels moved ever closer on the holotank’s projected tactical plot. Tehrani stared at it, trying to decide the best course of action. What if they’re aliens and I screw up first contact, starting a war? As she pondered the situat
ion, she realized that even if it was a first-contact situation, they’d already fired first—assuming the bandits Alpha Flight had splashed were from the same force. These ships are probably connected with the attack on Alpha, but I have to be careful not to assume. She turned toward Wright. “Thoughts, XO?”
“We have no choice but to treat the incoming as hostile and deal with them as such.”
The simply stated opinion made sense. “Agreed, but we don’t shoot unless they shoot first. TAO, redesignate Sierra One through Three as Master One through Three.” “Master” noted the target as a hostile entity. Tehrani leaned forward. “Get me a firing solution for our forward neutron beams. Communications, status of our escorts?”
“I’m having trouble getting through, ma’am. We’re being jammed.”
She sat back and punched a button. “Air boss, this is Colonel Tehrani. Scramble our bomber squadron, anti-capital-ship loadout. I say again, scramble all bombers.”
“Aye, aye, ma’am.”
“Conn, TAO. Aspect change. Master One, Two, and Three have opened fire. Assess they’re using plasma-based weaponry.” As Bryan spoke, the ship rocked from repeated impacts. “Shields holding. Strain on fore generators rising.”
“TAO, firing-point procedures, Master One.” Tehrani’s voice took on rigid formality. “Forward neutron beams.”
“Firing solution set, ma’am.”
“Match bearings, shoot, forward neutron beams.”
With that order, the CSV Zvika Greengold became the first CDF warship in almost thirty years to open fire on an enemy vessel in Terran Coalition space.
* * *
A LIDAR-tracked missile pursued Justin’s fighter through the void as he desperately jinked around a massive asteroid. He triggered the release of two chaff balls then pulled up sharply. The incoming warhead exploded in the cloud of decoys, creating a shockwave that nearly sent his Sabre into another rock. “I could use some help over here,” Justin called.
His HUD showed his three wingmen engaged in dogfights of their own. Deciding to try a new tactic, Justin engaged the afterburner on his craft. He whipped around multiple asteroids and through a dense cloud of ring material while avoiding red balls of energy flung at him by the enemy fighter. After picking out an unusually large rock, he used it to hide behind as he looped around and headed directly toward the craft firing on him.
Streaks of red flashed by his Sabre’s canopy. Some struck the shields, while most missed. Justin adjusted his aim until the neutron cannon lead indicator turned green, then he squeezed the trigger. Blue beams lanced out from his craft, cutting through the vacuum toward the enemy. Again and again, enemy fire struck his forward shields, while shot after shot of his own connected.
As his deflectors were about to fail, he armed a Vulture missile and pressed the button to fire. “Alpha One, fox three.”
Though Justin wrenched his fighter to the left, balls of red energy continued to find him for a few more seconds—until the impact of his missile on the enemy craft blew it to bits. Stunned, he let out a breath and checked the board. Two out of four bandits were down, while his wingmen continued to engage the rest. “Alpha One, splash one. I’m moving to assist.”
Mateus flew the nearest friendly fighter, engaging in a tight-turning series of scissor maneuvers with an enemy that was aggressively attempting to destroy her craft. Justin came in at full afterburners, and the moment the missile-lock-on tone sounded, he squeezed the launch button. “Alpha One, fox three. Mateus, break right and burn.” If she does it right—hopefully the enemy will fly right into my missile.
“Roger, Alpha One.” Mateus’s fighter jinked to the right, and its afterburners kicked in. A few moments later, the enemy craft exploded from a direct missile hit.
“Alpha One, splash another one!” Testing himself in battle felt incredibly exhilarating after the hundreds of hours of training Justin had endured. And whoever they are, they’re getting what’s coming to them.
But the question remained: Who the heck are we fighting? Justin played it over and over in his mind.
“Alpha Three, splash one. We’re clear,” Adeoye said. “I show no further hostiles.”
“Alpha Three, I’m showing hull damage on your left wing.” Justin’s HUD provided details on each fighter’s status.
“No reduction in thrust or combat effectiveness, sir.”
Justin wondered how true the statement was. Even if entirely accurate, another hit on the affected area could be catastrophic. “Understood, Alpha Three. Stay in the back of our formation, and we’ll cover you.”
“Wilco, sir.”
“Resuming formation,” Feldstein said. “At this rate, you’ll be an ace before we get back to the Greengold, LT.”
“I doubt that,” Justin replied. “There hasn’t been an ace pilot in the CDF since… hell, the Saurian War.”
“Since when do reservists get to fight?” Mateus asked. “I signed up for one weekend a month, two weeks a year, and never thought I’d see combat. No complaints, though. That was a rush!”
Justin thought back to why he’d joined the CDF. Simple… free college. The degree program offered through Reserve Officers’ Training Corps had allowed him to get a degree without debt and set his young family up for success. I suppose helping to safeguard the Terran Coalition was in there too. But we don’t have any enemies. Or...we didn’t until now.
As the adrenaline of combat faded, he found something else in its wake: shock and stress reaction. His hands shook. My God, I just killed someone. Three someones, to be exact.
His commlink crackled, jerking him out of his fugue. “This is the Zvika Greengold to any friendly ships and fighters. We are under attack by hostile forces. I repeat, we’re under attack and request immediate assistance.” Lieutenant Singh’s voice cut through Justin’s mind like a knife.
These aren’t mere pirates. Someone is attacking the Terran Coalition. He cued his commlink. “You heard the man. Form up and stand by for max burn. It’s fifteen minutes back to the Zvika Greengold, and they need our help.”
He hoped they would make it in time.
3
“Conn, TAO. Port shields at forty-seven percent,” Bryan called. “Master Two and Three continue to focus their attacks on that quarter.”
From the CO’s chair, Tehrani split her gaze between her tactical display and the officers in front of her. They had four friendly space-superiority fighters, but those were of limited use against the enemy capital ships. Without bombers or the Zvika Greengold’s own escorts, the battle remained a losing proposition. If we didn’t have friendly fighters in the asteroid belt, I’d have already ordered a retreat. “Navigation, come to course two-one-zero. Roll the ship to present our dorsal deflectors to Master Two and Three.” Right now, I’m just buying time.
“Aye, aye, ma’am. Steady on course two-one-zero. Rolling the ship,” Second Lieutenant Leah Mitzner replied.
Weapons impacts continued to reverberate through the deck plating, though the Greengold tried to maneuver to avoid them. But a few seconds after engaging the turn, the shield capacity indicator on Tehrani’s display stopped its steady march to zero.
“Conn, Communications. Colonel, I’ve got Lieutenant Spencer on audio for you. His element is exiting the asteroid belt and is five minutes out.”
Tehrani perked up. Some welcome good news. She glanced at Wright. “About time. We can scoop up our pilots and get out of here, if nothing else.”
“Personally, I’m not interested in running from a fight,” Wright replied as he rubbed his arms. “We have to uphold our tradition of being in the right place at the right time, yeah?”
Instead of replying, Tehrani stared at her tactical plot and the blue dots representing the inbound flight of Sabres. “Communications, put Lieutenant Spencer on.”
“Aye, aye, ma’am.”
A moment later, Justin’s voice came through the speaker on Tehrani’s chair. “Colonel, we’re coming in at max thrust. What’re your orders?”
“Link up with Beta element and engage the enemy, Lieutenant. We’re scrambling bombers and additional fighters. If the Greengold gets too banged up, we’ll pull back.”
“Understood, ma’am. Spencer out.”
Tehrani had little time to continue to ponder her tactical options. Between outgoing neutron beams from the Zvika Greengold and incoming plasma balls, the usually dull void of space was a lively place. All the while, our shields keep taking a beating.
“Conn, TAO. Master Two shields have failed.”
“TAO, vector the friendly fast movers to attack Master Two’s weapons emplacements.”
“Aye, aye, ma’am.”
* * *
“Has anyone ever fired on a ship in space before?” Adeoye asked, the rich timbre of his voice filling the commlink.
“Once, at a shoot-ex during the Valiant Shield exercises,” Feldstein replied.
Justin listened to the banter, more focused on the battle ahead than idle chitchat. The scene on his HUD was nothing short of surreal—three moderately sized enemy warships engaged in a pitched battle with the Zvika Greengold. He swallowed. I picked a terrible week for my annual tour.
Their target, Master Two, loomed ominously. The vessel was oddly shaped, at least to his eye. Mostly black with red accent lighting, the enemy ship had two blocky turrets on its front hull, and both spewed red plasma balls. They make an excellent first target to me. “Alpha flight, link into my target package.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” Feldstein said. “Taking out the turrets first?”
“If you have a better idea, I’m all ears, Lieutenant,” Justin replied. He left out his concern that the anti-fighter missiles the Sabres carried might not be strong enough to penetrate whatever armor plating the enemy had.
“That’s a negative, sir.”
“Stand by for max range.” Justin rotated his fighter’s trajectory slightly and toggled his laser designator pod on. “Alpha One, playing the music.”
Coalition Defense Force Boxed Set: First to Fight Page 2