by Daniel Gibbs
“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. Additional 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 p
unch.
“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.
“You got the target-rich environment you were hoping for, Mateus,” Justin said through gritted teeth as he matched maneuvers with a League fighter directly in front of him. The missile-lock-on tone sounded, and he pressed the button to fire a heat-seeking “fire and forget” missile. “Alpha One, fox two.” At the same time, he squeezed the flight-stick-integrated trigger for his miniature neutron beams and repeatedly sent their deadly energy into the aft shields of his target. Between that and the missile, the enemy craft exploded brightly in the darkness of space. “Alpha One, splash one.”
“We’re getting to be pros at this,” Feldstein remarked.
“Hey, mates, I could use some help over here,” Lieutenant Martin cut in. “I’ve got two of these cheeky League buggers on my tail, and they won’t piss off!”
“Alpha Two, with me,” Justin replied. “Hang on, Gamma One. We’re coming.”
“Yeah, trying to, mate.”
Justin glanced at his HUD. The tactical picture was muddled, with dozens of icons overlapping one another. He thought back to the training simulations they’d run through. Always four on four. They were nothing like actual combat. As his Sabre rocketed across space, League plasma balls and Terran Coalition neutron beams crisscrossed the area, their glow eerie and beautiful at the same time.
“Any day this week, mates!”
While Martin’s commlink calls were cheerful and even funny on some level, time was running out. The icon representing his Mauler bomber flashed red, showing it was taking hull damage. Justin toggled his afterburner and cued the commlink. “Alpha Two, push it up. We’ve got to close the range pronto.”
“Wilco, sir.”
The Sabre accelerated, and the g-forces pushed Justin firmly back in his seat to the point that he saw stars. Just as he reached the limit of human endurance, the missile-lock-on tone sounded. Justin throttled back and pressed the launch button. “Alpha One, fox three.” An active LIDAR-guided warhead dropped out of his craft and hurtled off toward the target. He watched as it tracked the enemy movement for movement and finally exploded against the shields of the League fighter.
Before Justin could line up to finish the fighter off with his miniature neutron cannons, another missile streaked in and blew up the target.
“Beta element engaged,” another pilot practically shouted through the commlink.
“Nice shooting,” Justin remarked. He let out a breath as the mental pressure of combat abated momentarily.
A fresh group of four Sabres raced into the fray. League craft dropped like flies as they exploited tactical surprise, as one downside of a quick-turning tail chase was that the pilots involved lost overall situational awareness. While the dust settled, Justin reexamined his HUD, which was mostly clear of hostile fighters and bombers. The Leaguer heavy cruiser continued to fire on both friendly capital ships, as did the destroyer. The enemy frigate, though below fifty percent hull integrity, was still combat-capable and added its weapons to the mix.
“Hey. Mates. Yeah, I’m talking to you over in the short little ugly fighters. How about some cover fire while we engage this cruiser,” Martin said. “Half my bombers have holes in ’em, and
these buggers seem to have unlimited energy to shoot at us.”
“Alpha, form up and assist me in covering Gamma and Epsilon elements,” Justin said before he switched the commlink channel back to squadron command. “Martin, we’ll engage their point-defense turrets as much as possible now that you’ve got the cruiser’s shields down.”
“Thanks, mate. Time to finish these wankers off!”
Still smirking, Justin turned his craft toward Master Three. The dark void of space seemed to glow as dozens of the suddenly ubiquitous red plasma balls flashed by his Sabre, but he stayed the course. Juking slightly to make his fighter harder to hit, Justin maintained a laser-like focus on his target—an anti-small-craft point-defense weapon belching death out of its barrel. Space usually isn’t this crowded. Before the previous day, he’d never seen more than a squadron in space at any point in time.
Justin squeezed the trigger on his flight stick, sending dozens of blasts from the miniature neutron cannon on his fighter into the turret. Twisting the stick from side to side, he avoided most of the incoming fire. The missile-lock-on tone buzzed, and he loosed a LIDAR-tracking warhead at the offending turret, while Feldstein and Adeoye added their own neutron cannons and missile fire to the fusillade. At the last possible second, Justin pulled up and hit his afterburner. He was rewarded with the League point defense turret exploding as one of the anti-fighter Vultures hit it.
“Thanks, mates. That opened up a hole in their PD coverage,” Martin said. “We’ve got a special delivery for them to take advantage of it.”
As Justin looped his Sabre around after gaining distance on the heavy cruiser, he was treated to a sight he’d never seen before. The four Maulers, led by Lieutenant Martin, lined up on an attack run toward Master Three. In perfect formation, the bombers loosed one anti-ship Javelin missile each and veered off. With little point-defense fire coming from the League vessel, all four struck home. The heavy cruiser’s shields glowed red, and the HUD showed a twenty percent drop in shield strength.