Coalition Defense Force Boxed Set: First to Fight

by Gibbs, Daniel

  “Attention, all hands. This is Colonel Tehrani,” she said after engaging the 1MC intercom. “General quarters! General quarters! Man your battle stations. This is not a drill. I say again, man your battle stations. I say again, this is not a drill.” She took a breath. “TAO, set condition one throughout the ship.”

  The lights on the bridge turned blue and dimmed, allowing the computer screens to show the information they displayed more clearly. “Condition one set throughout the ship, Colonel. All battle stations manned and ready.”

  “Conn, Navigation. Course plotted, and jump drives charged.”

  “Navigation, engage Lawrence drive.”

  The lights dimmed on the bridge dimmed even further as the wormhole generator created an artificial tunnel through the stars directly ahead of the Zvika Greengold. Blue, green, red, and purple radiated around the portal as it came into being. A few moments later, the vessel surged forward and slipped from one dimension of space and time into another.

  6

  Justin shifted his legs inside the cockpit of his Sabre. After a few hours at ready five, it became increasingly difficult to keep his feet from getting restless. Though he tried to focus on the combat ahead of him, Whatley’s words stung. Over and over, Justin had questioned why he joined the CDF and whether it was honorable to be there because he wanted to improve his life. I know I love my country too. He forced the thoughts out of his mind, remembering the words of a flight-combat instructor who’d once told him that any distraction in battle would prove fatal.

  “I wonder why these guys had to come all the way from Earth to invade us,” Feldstein said on the commlink channel reserved for Alpha element.

  Mateus answered her. “Who cares? The commies are back. We’ll fight them and send them running back to Earth with their tails between their legs.”

  “How do we know they’re communists?” Justin asked, amused.

  “Because freedom always triumphs over totalitarian rule.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Adeoye interjected. “Do you not remember we’re the ones whose ancestors fled their homes in unproven spaceships, endured great hardships, and eventually found a new home after a decade of searching?”

  “Yeah, we all read the history books in school.” Mateus chortled. “Still, these guys are no match for the CDF.”

  “We don’t know that,” Justin replied. “And no one had better get overconfident. I promise you that’ll get us all killed. Stay focused, watch your six, and remember our training.”

  “Yes, sir,” Feldstein said before anyone else could speak. “I wonder how long we have to the engagement.”

  “I’d wager the moment we drop out of Lawrence drive, we’ll launch,” Justin replied.

  Almost on cue, he felt the carrier transition out of its wormhole and into normal space. Justin had been on enough ships to know the telltale signs of subtle changes in movement—the Zvika Greengold had its own “tell,” a high-pitched whine that went on for a moment as it snapped back into physical reality.

  “Red Tails, scramble, scramble, scramble!” Whatley’s voice filled the commlink. “Hostile fighters fifty kilometers away.”

  Justin flipped his commlink to the squadron frequency. “Alpha element, launch now!” He reached down and activated the electromagnetic catapult system, which hurled his fighter down the tube and into open space at a respectable velocity. A moment later, his HUD fully initialized and synched its sensor displays with the local tactical network. The Conqueror, labeled as Sierra One, loomed large on the map. Two League frigates maneuvered next to it, firing plasma cannons into the weakened battleship’s shields. Elsewhere on his display, red icons representing enemy fighter and bomber formations blinked into existence. “Alpha, I show a flight of six bombers on a direct intercept with Sierra One. Break and engage.”

  The rest of the Red Tails squadron signaled their acknowledgment of his orders through the comms system, and the icon for each pilot turned green. Justin, meanwhile, focused on the rapidly approaching bombers. The idea that they were in a real shooting war hadn’t quite sunk in yet. Part of his mind still acted as if he were in a sim trainer. The missile-lock-on tone sounded, and he pressed the missile-launch button. “Alpha One, fox three.” The anti-fighter active LIDAR-tracking weapon dropped from his internal storage bay, triggered its engine, and flew away, its speed increasing exponentially.

  The League bombers scattered, some trying to avoid the incoming missiles and others turning toward Alpha, attempting to engage. Justin’s missile bobbed and weaved through chaff and spoofing decoys before it exploded against the shields of its target. Despite the direct hit, the bomber shrugged off the blow and kept coming.

  Justin whipped his fighter around and settled directly behind his target. He held down the trigger for his miniature neutron beams, sending bolt after bolt of deadly blue energy into the shields of the hapless bomber. After eight direct hits, it exploded in a ball of orange-and-blue fire. “Alpha One, splash one.” As he spoke, Justin lined up the next enemy craft, only to see another Sabre slide in and open fire with its energy weapons and dumb-fire rockets. It only took a few seconds for the bomber’s shields to fail.

  “Alpha Four, splash one,” Mateus called.

  “Where’d you get the idea to use ground-attack rockets like that?” Justin asked. He was quite impressed with her ingenuity.

  “These things can’t maneuver to save their lives, sir. I figured if I got close, I could shred them. The crew chief put a ground pod on. It looks like it checks out.”

  Justin brought his Sabre behind yet another enemy bomber. “Good thinking, Mateus. Just next time, give me a heads-up, okay?”

  “You got it, Lieutenant.”

  Justin’s second score of the day exploded as he released the firing trigger on his neutron cannons and took a moment to maintain situational awareness on his HUD. Alpha had eliminated the League’s bomber element, and the two enemy escort vessels continued to engage with missiles and plasma cannons. A neutron beam erupted from the Zvika Greengold and impacted the nearest frigate’s shields. Why isn’t the Conqueror firing? She should make quick work of these ships. The battleship appeared to be disabled.

  “Spencer, this is Whatley. Come in. Over.”

  “I read you loud and clear, Major,” Justin replied.

  “We’re about to launch a flight of bombers to engage the League frigates. I want Alpha to cover them as they approach. Think you can handle that?”

  Justin bit back a nasty reply and instead focused on the task at hand. “Yes, sir. I’ll shift my element back toward the Greengold.”

  “Good. CAG out.”

  A cluster of four new blue icons appeared directly outside of the Greengold’s launch bay. Justin’s Sabre immediately IDed the craft as a flight of four Mauler bombers—Gamma element. He adjusted his flight path to meet up with them as they sped away from the carrier. “Alpha One to Gamma One. We’ll be serving as your escorts to tonight’s dance. Please join up with your partners and prepare to shoot our friends over there until they explode.”

  “Mate, leave the jokes to the Aussies, okay? You sound like a bad kiwi over there trying to fake it,” Martin replied.

  Laughter filled the commlink channel.

  “Yeah, okay, I’ll remember that when you’re getting your arse shot off,” Justin snapped back.

  “For the last time, use proper comms-traffic discipline, or I’ll ground you,” Whatley interjected.

  “It’s called blowing off steam, mate. You ought to try it sometime before you blow yourself up with all this pent-up angst.”

  More chortles sounded through the comms system. Justin couldn’t contain himself and burst out laughing.

  “Lieutenant Martin, one more word, and I pull your wings,” Whatley ground out.

  “Acknowledged, sir.”

  Sliding into formation with the Maulers, Justin checked his HUD. Whatley is such a wet blanket. He had no time to think about his dislike for the CAG, however. Additi
onal groups of red icons appeared on the sensor display, and they rapidly separated from the two frigates. Two elements had two fighters each. Alpha element was so close to the enemy vessels that there was barely enough time to line up before entering missile-lock-on range. As Justin waited for the tone to sound, twin blue neutron beams streaked in front of his cockpit canopy. The light momentarily blinded him, as at close range, it was intense. “Alpha One to all Alpha units. Watch out. The Greengold’s lighting up that frigate.”

  At last, the lock-on tone buzzed. Justin immediately pressed the missile-launch button, an instinctive reaction primarily built on muscle memory. The Vulture dropped from his Sabre’s internal-stores bay and accelerated away. A few moments later, it hit home, exploding on the shields of the enemy craft. Justin then sent a barrage of blue neutron-cannon shots toward his foe, tracking the fighter movement for movement. It exploded in a ball of orange flame then was quickly extinguished by the vacuum of the void.

  “Hey, Spencer,” Martin said. “There’s two point-defense turrets on the side of this bugger we’re attacking. Think your boys could take some heat off our missiles? I’d much rather they smack the side of that monstrosity than get blown up in space. Follow?”

  “Makes sense to me. We’ll try to take out one of them for you,” Justin replied.

  “Cheers, mate.”

  “How about for every PD gun we take out, you get a round for Alpha?”

  “Best suggestion I’ve heard out of you blokes all day. Cheerio.”

  Justin clicked the commlink over to his element channel. “Alpha, break and engage, point-defense turrets on Master Two, port side. We’ll take the one closest to our bombers. Tactical sensor network shows its shields are down.”

  “Wilco, Alpha One,” Feldstein replied.

  As the four fighters pawed the vacuum, hurtling toward the enemy capital ship, Justin took a moment to check the status of his element. Stores were down twenty-five percent, and Mateus had hull damage. I’m going to have to remind her to be cautious. Flying blind at the enemy is a gamble. He pushed the thought down and focused on the gun-lead indicator while switching his active-missile weapon to the dumb-fire-rocket pod. The second the range gauge turned green, he held down the trigger, sending dozens of blue bolts at the turret.

  Joined by the rest of Alpha element’s weapons, the fusillade was impressive. LIDAR-tracked missiles, dumb-fire rockets, and hundreds of neutron-cannon shots filled the void, and most struck home. Eventually it was too much, even for the tough armor of the turret. It blew apart into its constituent atoms. “That should even it up, Gamma.”

  “Thanks, mates!” Martin replied. “Gamma One, fox one.”

  Anti-ship missiles hurtled away from all four Mauler bombers, heading in straight-line trajectories toward the League frigate. The remaining PD emplacement on the vessel fired away, its red energy hammering at the darkness of space. But for all the ferociousness of the light show, it was an empty gesture. All four warheads hit the port side of the ship, and explosions spread outward from the impact site. After a few seconds, a colossal orange-and-blue wall of flame erupted from the frigate, and when it cleared, nothing was left except small debris.

  “And another one bites the dust, mates!”

  * * *

  “Conn, TAO. Master Two destroyed by friendly fast movers,” Bryan called. “All fighter elements continue to engage Master One.”

  Tehrani stared at her tactical plot, noting the mass of blue icons as they rapidly shifted position around the remaining League vessel. Not a bad way to start a fight. She glanced at Wright. His face was bathed in blue light from the Zvika Greengold being at condition one. “So far, so good.”

  “I feel it prudent to mention something about counting chickens before they hatch.”

  “Touché, XO,” Tehrani replied. She shifted her focus toward Singh. “Communications, get me the Conqueror.”

  “One moment, ma’am.” Singh turned his head slightly. “Coming through for you now on vidlink, Colonel.”

  A human male appeared on the screen above the CO’s chair. He wore the same khaki service uniform the rest of them did, only his had the flag of the United States on the left shoulder. His face was smeared with soot, and blood caked his brown hair. A glance at the area behind him revealed a CIC in shambles—a collapsed overhead, with fire damaged and broken consoles littering the area. “Thanks for the assist,” he began, his voice gravelly. “Brigadier General Rubin at your service.”

  “Colonel Tehrani. Pleased to meet you, General.” She flashed a small smile. “We’re maintaining control of the battle space as much as possible, but I wanted to see if you needed anything else to get your ship underway again.”

  “Negative. My chief engineer indicates that he needs another ten to fifteen minutes to get the Lawrence drive back online, then we’ll jump into Canaan’s orbital-defense zone for further repairs.”

  “We’ll hold them off,” Tehrani replied. “Any chance you can provide fire support from your big guns?” The Conqueror sported six triple-barreled turrets of four-hundred-millimeter magnetic cannons—the largest mounted by any CDF capital ship. Capable of flinging helicar-sized projectiles, they packed a serious punch.

  “Sorry, Colonel. Every scrap of power we’ve got is needed for shields and the Lawrence drive.” Rubin gritted his teeth. “Help us get out of here, and I promise that before this battle is over, you’ll get to see what our weapons can do against these Leaguers.”

  Leaguers? Heh. That might stick. “I’ll hold you to that, General. Good luck. We’ll hold the line.”

  “Godspeed, Colonel. Rubin out.”

  I haven’t heard anyone say Godspeed in a while. Tehrani briefly pondered the topic. During the First and Second Saurian Wars, Godspeed had been the rallying cry of the CDF. The word was thousands of years old and traditionally an exhortation for a pleasant journey. It had evolved to mean an appeal to God for help.

  An old battle cry came to her. Fight the good fight, no matter the odds. Asking God for help wasn’t a new concept, as she was a Muslim who prayed several times a day to Allah. Though not the five times required of me. Perhaps I’ve been lax in my faith. But she had no time for further rumination as the battle continued.

  “Conn, TAO. Master One neutralized… she’s drifting in space and launching escape pods.”

  “Communications, send my compliments to Major Whatley and his wing on a job well done.”

  Wright leaned in. “Don’t jinx us, skipper. I doubt that’s the last of whatever assets they’re throwing at the Conqueror and, by extension, us.”

  “Conn, TAO. Aspect change… inbound wormholes.”

  Tehrani’s breath caught in her throat as she waited for the next report. She gave Wright a wry grin. “I’ll remember that next time.”

  “League signature confirmed, ma’am,” Bryan said. “One destroyer, one larger vessel classified as a heavy cruiser in tonnage. Designated Master Three and Four, respectively.”

  Before Tehrani could issue orders, the League heavy cruiser opened up. Deceptively small visually, it packed a serious punch in both plasma cannons and what appeared to be beam-based energy weapons. Both streaked toward the Conqueror, lighting up its port shields. With no counterfire, the exchange was a decidedly one-sided affair.

  “Conn, TAO.” Bryan cranked his head around. “Ma’am, Sierra One doesn’t have anywhere near full shield power. She can’t handle sustained bombardment.”

  “Communications, order the next bomber element into space. Redirect all fast movers to Master Three,” Tehrani said. She glanced at Wright. “We’re not designed to go up against capital ships. Any bright ideas?”

  “Pray.”

  Tehrani didn’t reply as she focused on the tactical plot. Another group of blue icons appeared near the Zvika Greengold, labeled as Epsilon—Mauler medium bombers. Coupled with the remaining three bombers from Gamma element and the Sabre space-superiority fighters from Alpha flight, all eleven craft engaged Master Three as one
. The dots resembled an angry cloud of bees, buzzing around a much larger foe. She felt momentary relief as several Javelin anti-ship missiles slammed into the enemy’s deflectors, and they dropped like a stone.

  “Conn, Communications. General Rubin reports that their shields are under twenty percent, and the Conqueror is taking further hull damage.”

  “TAO, firing point procedures. Target Master Three with our forward neutron beams.”

  “Firing solution locked, ma’am.”

  “Match bearings, shoot, neutron beams.”

  The Zvika Greengold struck at the League heavy cruiser with both its forward beams, and the thin blue spears of energy impacted the enemy shields with a red displacement effect visible through the transparent alloy windows at the front of the bridge. Tehrani glanced at the tactical plot. The result was negligible. Almost immediately, the Leaguer capital vessel switched its target. Dozens of red plasma balls arced through space and connected with the carrier’s shields.

  “Conn, TAO… forward shield arc taking increasing strain. Wait, aspect change, Master Three. They’ve launched a squadron of fighters.” Bryan glanced back at the CO and XO chairs. “Direct intercept on our bomber elements, ma’am.”

  “Communications, order the air boss to launch the next Sabre element—Beta.”

  “Aye, aye, ma’am.”

  Wright leaned in and whispered into Tehrani’s ear, “We could put everything in space. Probably end this quickly.”

  She shook her head. “I thought about it, but given the time it takes to rearm and refuel, we’d get caught with our pants down if something else happened or we’re needed elsewhere in the Canaan system. No, we have to stick to the minimum amount of assets to win.”

  “Got it, skipper.”

  While the reasoning made sense, it pained Tehrani to her core that she was asking her pilots to do so much with so little. Better get used to that feeling, if this turns into a war. The next thought through her mind was they were already at war, and she would have to come to grips with it.