Coalition Defense Force Boxed Set: First to Fight

by Gibbs, Daniel

  Amir’s voice came through strongly. “Understood, Colonel. The Reapers are standing by to launch. We are armed up for interdiction and capital-ship engagement.”

  “Good hunting and Godspeed, Colonel.”

  “Inshallah.”

  * * *

  Amir had been in the middle of running his final preflight check when David ordered the launch of the wing. Once completed, he cued the preset communications channel to his second-in-command, Major Rebecca Tulleny. “Ready to go?” he asked informally.

  “Yes, sir,” she said. “I was hoping this peace deal was the real thing.”

  “We’ve got a job to do, Major. Let’s get out of here and kick them back to Earth,” Amir replied. He hated the League with a passion and considered fighting them to be a form of Jihad, and he was glad to give his life fighting them, if that was what it took.

  In times like this, Amir saw red and wanted to blow as many League craft and pilots out of space as he could. When the rage subsided, he would repent and ask Allah to forgive him, but for the moment, he was still as mad as hell.

  Amir switched his commlink to the air boss’s line. “Boss, we’re ready to go. Request permission to launch.”

  “This is the boss. Colonel, all squadrons are cleared to launch in order, Reapers first. Godspeed.”

  Amir then flipped his commlink to reach his squadron commanders. “Attention. We are cleared for launch. Stand by to launch as called by the boss. Reapers are launching first. Once we’re in space, form up and stand by for further orders.”

  Amir pushed the throttle to max thrust. He was always the first in space, and there was no feeling like the thrill of launching at full speed out the side of a hangar into the blackness of the void. It never got old. He couldn’t see himself doing anything else. As he was pressed back into his seat from the extreme g-forces, mitigated though they were by the design of his pilot’s chair and the inertial dampening systems of his craft, the fighter thundered into space. In the few minutes it took for the roughly fifty fighters on the Lion to launch, he studied the sensor readouts of the approaching League craft.

  As the last of his wing launched, Amir cued his commlink to a private channel. “Reaper One to Tiger One.”

  “Go ahead, sir,” Tulleny said.

  “I want your squadron to form up with our bombers and provide close escort. I and the rest of the Reapers will engage the incoming bombers.”

  “Understood, Colonel. Godspeed.”

  “Inshallah.”

  Amir pulled up his HUD and spent some time pondering the best attack approach. While the League craft outnumbered them almost two to one, he felt confident in the training of his pilots and the quality of their combat spacecraft compared to the League’s. CDF technology was always a few steps ahead of the League, and League training was nothing like the Coalition’s. Fifteen seconds out from maximum engagement range, he cued the commlink to reach his entire squadron.

  “Reapers, this is Reaper One. A layer of League fighters is screening their bombers. We’ll take one shot at the fighters with guided missiles as we pass, but our objective is to knock down as many bombers as possible. Weapons-free status for all craft.”

  On his HUD, the entire squadron signaled its understanding, which translated into green dots next to each pilot’s name and craft.

  As his fighter entered max range, Amir acquired a League fighter. It took several seconds for him to hear the lock-on sound or what the pilots called a tone. “Reaper One, fox three,” he called out as he fired an active LIDAR-tracked missile.

  Other calls of “Fox three” followed from his squadron as every fighter lined up and fired on a League craft. Simultaneously, the League fighters fired their own missiles.

  With surprise, Amir watched his HUD as most of the missiles fired by his fighters were evaded by the League craft. Only two hit their intended targets, and of those, only one was a hard kill. Blasting through the League formation, he turned his attention to lining up and engaging the lumbering League bombers.

  Sliding behind one of the multicrewed craft, Amir pulled up his miniature neutron cannons and fired on the bomber. “Reaper One, guns, guns, guns.”

  After several seconds of sustained fire and multiple hits from his neutron cannons, the League bomber finally exploded. “Reaper One, splash one. Splash one bandit.”

  The missile warning light and tone suddenly sounded in Amir’s cockpit. While he’d been engaging the bomber, two League fighters had gotten onto his six. In the time it took him to locate the League fighters, he had two missiles inbound on his craft. While part of his brain wondered where the League had gotten what appeared to be an entire squadron of elite pilots, his training snapped in and took over as he responded to the threat.

  Noting that both incoming missiles were classified as heat-seeking by the onboard tactical computer, Amir triggered his flare launchers, sending dozens of bright, white-hot energy signature generators, which would have the effect of confusing the incoming missiles. One missile quickly veered off, taking the bait and exploding. The other stayed on target, tracking him move for move.

  Amir reinforced his aft shielding and pulled up hard on the flight stick after deploying more flares. The final missile exploded far too close for comfort, sending his fighter spinning.

  By the time Amir got his fighter back under control, his wingman reported in. “Reaper Two to Reaper One. You’ve still got three bandits on your six. I’m moving to engage the bandit closest to me now. Over.”

  On his HUD, Amir’s wingman closed in on the League fighter that was farthest away from him. That left two deadly interceptors in his blind spot, trying to lock on for a shot. He adjusted in his flight chair as the missile warning light lit up. Responding quickly, Amir pulled the stick down hard and increased thrust to maximum. The Gs he pulled were so high that he approached blackout.

  But his gamble paid off. He hurtled toward the enemy fighters and blew past them so fast that neither he nor the enemy could obtain a lock.

  Looping back around, Amir pushed his fighter to its maximum limits and took advantage of the League pilots’ momentary disorientation. He settled behind one of the craft, triggering his target-acquisition system.

  “Reaper One, fox three,” he said as the LIDAR-guided missile leaped from its launching bay and roared toward the League craft.

  After successfully tracking the League fighter for several seconds, the missile connected and blew it to bits.

  Not wanting to take the time to obtain another weapons lock, Amir opted to use a heat-seeking missile on the next target. Pulling up the weapons selector on his HUD, he mentally selected the warhead and launched it in the direction of the remaining League fighter. He took a moment to check in on the progress of his squadrons and noted that the bombers and their escorting fighters had made it through the ongoing furball and were heading toward the League capital ships.

  Losses seemed to be higher than normal for an engagement of this type, leading Amir to conclude he was seeing elite pilots and perhaps elite machines. He pushed that aside, though, as the second fighter he had targeted was hit by the missile and destroyed.

  Before he could call out the two kills, his wingman announced killing the third League fighter. “Reaper Two, splash one. Splash one bandit.”

  Amir cued the communications channel and called out, “Reaper One, splash two. Splash two.”

  Hotdogging a little, Amir performed a barrel roll in his fighter while saying, “Allahu Akbar,” an Arabic phrase for “God is great.” He then picked the nearest bomber and closed in to engage. God willing, my squadron will finish off the enemy.

  * * *

  David held on tightly to the arms of his station as the bridge rocked from weapon impacts on the shielding system. He observed on his tactical plot that the League ships had formed a tight sphere providing overlapping fire support, making it difficult for the Lion to pick one off to even the odds.

  “Conn, TAO. Forward-deflector-generator effectiveness
is decreasing, sir.”

  David decided to gamble and try to take out one of the Rands. “Navigation, all ahead full, intercept course on Master Three.” That specific Rand was just slightly out of position, from David’s read. “TAO, firing point procedures, Master Three, magnetic cannons and neutron beams.”

  “Firing solutions set, sir.”

  “TAO, match bearings, shoot, all weapons.”

  Magnetic cannon shells raced from the Lion of Judah at thirty percent of the speed of light. Most impacted the shields of the targeted Rand, weakening them dramatically. The neutron beam strikes inflicted damage on the hull plating of the Rand but not enough to disable it, and the other League ships were free to continue to pour weapons fire onto the Lion.

  “Conn, TAO. Master Three has disengaged after receiving moderate damage, sir.”

  Weapon impacts slammed into the Lion from the three Rands remaining in line of sight as well as the Destruction.

  “Conn, TAO. Forward shield collapse is imminent, sir.”

  “Dammit,” David muttered drawing a look from Sheila. “Navigation, left thirty degrees. Present our port shield quadrant to the enemy.”

  Hammond responded, “Aye, aye, sir. Left thirty degrees,” as weapons fire continued to rake the Lion.

  “TAO, firing point procedures, Master Two. Magnetic cannons and neutron beams. Let’s keep them guessing.”

  “Aye, sir. Firing solutions set.”

  “TAO, match bearings, shoot, all weapons.”

  As another round of weapons fire erupted from the Lion, more incoming plasma bolts slammed into the Lion’s forward quadrant. Plasma bolts peppered the hull of the ship, causing limited damage through the ablative armor.

  “Conn, TAO. Forward shield has collapsed, sir.”

  “Navigation, maximum turn,” David barked.

  “Conn, Navigation. Acknowledged, sir. We’re moving as fast as she can. Another seven seconds before we’ve got our forward deflector out of their firing lane.”

  As Hammond spoke, the ship lurched forward. Several seconds later, the speaker on David’s station sprang to life. “Conn, Engineering. This is Major Hanson. We’re showing a fire in the forward ammunition magazine.”

  David’s jaw dropped. “Say again, engineering?”

  “Fire in the forward ammunition magazine, sir. Recommend we vent it into space to avoid further casualty to the ship.”

  “Engineering, vent the forward ammunition magazine.”

  A few moments passed, then Hanson reported. “Sir, venting controls are inoperative.”

  David glanced at Sheila, thinking that the new development could be a disaster. If the magnetic-cannon rounds or missiles began to cook off or explode, it would destroy the ship from the inside out. Lacking a shakedown cruise before being put into use, the Lion was going to suffer from a lot of small glitches. But this one had an outsized effect on the ship.

  “Engineering, get as many damage-control teams as we can to the magazine,” David said into the mic then turned to Sheila. “XO, get down there and put that fire out by any means necessary. Hanson, the XO is going to take local command of the damage-control teams.”

  “Aye, sir. Engineering out.”

  Sheila stood. “Don’t get this ship shot out from under us during your first combat in it, sir,” she said with a smile.

  “Godspeed,” David replied, glancing at her as she walked away from the command station.

  33

  In orbit of Canaan, the ominous black mass of the League Type-D cargo ship grew larger by the second as the breaching pod careened toward it. Calvin sat in the copilot’s chair next to the warrant officer flying the pod. He watched the distance closing rapidly and glanced over at the pilot.

  “Ever done this before, Bradshaw?” he asked.

  “No, sir,” the young woman replied, tight-lipped. “I don’t think any of us have boarded a POW transport over Canaan before, sir.”

  Calvin snickered. “How about any ships, Warrant?”

  “Yes, sir. Just a few times.”

  “Well, try not to rock us so hard that we throw up,” Calvin retorted, smiling.

  “What’s the matter, Colonel? Age catching up with you?”

  “What is it with all the wiseasses on this ship?” Calvin asked with mock annoyance.

  Instantly, the pilot was all business. “All right, sir. This is where it gets bumpy. About ten seconds out from hard dock.” She keyed the intercom for the pod. “Brace! Brace! Brace! Prepare for impact, Marines.”

  Calvin took heed and braced himself as best as he could. As the seconds ticked down, he said a prayer. God, I know I’m probably the last person you want to hear from, seeing as my job is to go out and kill people. Please help me and my men to save these POWs. Something good can still come of this, and I need Your help to make it happen. Amen.

  A loud bang echoed as the pod slammed into the side of the League transport.

  “Okay, we’re locked on,” the pilot said.

  Calvin stood. “Prepare to breach the ship, Warrant.” Cueing the internal commlink in his power armor, he keyed the channel for Cabello. “Major, what’s your status?”

  Cabello’s accented voice came through. “About to breach.”

  “Breach on my mark.”

  When he stepped back into the cargo area, his twenty Force Recon Marines along with the EOD technician Hadi Uzun, stood ready. Their weapons were pointed at the aft door as they waited for it to open.

  Calvin glanced over the team. “I’m not much on the inspirational-speech crap. I’m a Marine. I’ve always been a Marine, and Marines do not leave our own behind!” He finished with a shout.

  The twenty-one Marines responded in one voice, “Hoorah!”

  “We will defeat the enemy! Regardless of their number! We do this, or we don’t leave this ship. Do you get me, Marines?”

  “Sir, yes, sir,” the squad responded.

  “Then get in there and kill those Leaguer bastards! Bradshaw, breach now.” Calvin cued his commlink. “Cabello, breach!”

  A moment later, the aft door blew outward, and a couple of dazed League security officers raised their weapons to open fire. Before they could get off a shot, the lead Marines fired subsonic but highly lethal rounds from their M-35 combat rifles, and both dropped dead. Calvin had ordered nonlethal rounds to be carried, in case the team got into a firefight with POWs in the line of fire, but otherwise, they were to use lethal ammunition designed specifically for space-boarding actions.

  “Squad one, move out. Squad two, cover our rear,” Calvin said, walking out of the pod with the rest of the Marines.

  They divided into two squads of ten. One moved forward, with Calvin in the middle. Pulling up the limited schematics of the ship in his HUD, he ordered his Marines toward what he thought were the engineering spaces. Cabello would first gain control of the shuttle bay and start landing additional combat Marines to help mop up.

  A few meters down the passageway, a group of several Leaguers came around a corner and opened fire. The Marines engaged almost immediately, cutting down the enemy with ease. One of the Marines took a round in his chest armor with no loss of combat effectiveness. The EOD tech, per Calvin’s orders, stayed with the rear guard. Calvin was unwilling to take any chances with him, regardless of his ability to handle himself in a firefight.

  It took them a few minutes, but the Leaguers finally began to respond in force to the TCMC attack. “Colonel,” Cabello said through the commlink, “we’re encountering heavy resistance in the shuttle bay. They’re throwing everything they’ve got at us.”

  “More than you can handle?”

  “Never.”

  “Let me know when you’ve got control of the area. This ship’s big, and we need more support.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The point man for the squad rounded a corner and was immediately greeted by sustained weapons fire. Calvin and a few other Marines were right behind him and ran into a buzzsaw. The Leaguers had set up an antiv
ehicle weapon in the passageway. The point man collapsed as he took several rounds to his chest.

  Calvin’s Marines made themselves as small as they could and returned fire down the passageway, killing some enemy combatants but failing to silence the heavy weapons fire. He grabbed the Marine who carried the squad automatic weapon. “Corporal, you got armor-piercing rounds?” he asked over the din of battle.

  “Yes, sir. Locked and loaded, sir.”

  “Follow me!”

  Calvin led the corporal and another Marine down a side passageway. “Okay, Corporal, fire through the wall here.” He pointed at where he thought the checkpoint was located on the other side of the wall

  The corporal raised his weapon and fired on full auto for ten seconds, rounds spraying.

  A few seconds later, Calvin’s comm chirped. “Sir, not sure what you did, but those Leaguers just got hosed. We’ve cleared the area and are ready to breach the engineering space.”

  Calvin and the two Marines made their way back to the main group that stood outside of a large bulkhead door for the engineering space. He stepped over fallen League soldiers and stopped to take the dog tags of the fallen Marine. Later, they would retrieve his body for burial.

  Walking up to the door, he looked at the Marines to his right and his left. “Okay, boys, let’s blow this door, take over the engineering room, and go the hell home,” he said in his best hard-ass Marine voice.

  With a nod from Calvin, one of the Marines triggered a breaching charge, blowing the bulkhead door backward. The rest charged through the opening into a firestorm of rounds from League soldiers. A couple went down, but the power-armored Marines had superior protection and firepower. They quickly cut through the resistance and fanned out through the engineering core. Most engineering personnel surrendered, but a few snatched up weapons from the fallen League security troops and tried to keep fighting.