“Conn, TAO. We’re taking significant shield damage to our forward arc, ma’am.”
Tehrani checked her display and mentally plotted a new course. “Navigation, come to heading zero-three-eight, mark negative fifteen.”
“Aye, aye, ma’am,” Mitzner called. “Coming to course zero-three-eight, mark negative fifteen.”
The ship rotated slightly, and its thrusters kicked in, pushing them to the direction prescribed. The incoming fire from the League vessel slowed and started hitting the starboard shield instead of the forward generator. All the while, combat between the friendly and enemy small craft continued. To Tehrani’s practiced eye, the blue forces were clearly winning the engagement—at least so far. They’d taken one craft lost to almost a dozen Leaguers. I’ll take that rate of exchange any day. Her heart skipped a beat as she realized how easy it was to be happy she’d only lost one pilot.
“Conn, Communications. A wide-band transmission is coming from the remaining League vessel. Can’t read it, ma’am.”
Wright snorted. “Distress call, most likely.”
“We need to finish that ship off quickly,” Tehrani replied. She leaned forward as a small seed of fear implanted itself in the pit of her stomach. “Communications, vector all friendly assets to attack Master Two.”
“Aye, aye, ma’am,” Singh answered quickly.
The Marcus Luttrell commenced another attack run on the hapless League destroyer. Backed by the Mauler bombers nipping at the enemy’s heels, the Gladius-class vessel’s magnetic cannons and neutron beams flashed in the deep. High-explosive and armor-piercing projectiles raced toward the enemy and exploded against its shields, while the blue neutron beams bored away. Between anti-ship missiles and the Luttrell’s barrage, the Leaguer’s deflectors failed, and minor explosions dotted its hull.
“TAO, energy-weapon capacitor recharge status?”
“Eighty percent, ma’am,” Bryan called over his shoulder.
“TAO, snap shot, Master Two, forward neutron beams.” In CDF parlance, a snap shot was firing a weapon without an affirmative firing solution—a best guess. I’m taking a chance here, but every second counts. Tehrani could almost feel more League forces about to jump in.
“Aye, aye, ma’am.”
Two blue beams stabbed out from the Greengold and speared the League destroyer. They burned through the brittle armor, bored through the hull, and erupted out of the other side of the hapless vessel. A series of secondary explosions started small then blossomed into an explosive wave that blew the ship apart.
“Conn, TAO, Master Two destroyed.”
A few cheers rang out on the bridge before a sharp-tongued senior enlisted soldier barked, “As you were. Maintain focus!”
Tehrani stared at the plot, which showed the few remaining enemy fighters being run down by Alpha element and its expertly flown Sabres. She breathed a sigh of relief and glanced at the readout for the shipyard—damaged but still in one piece. “Well, that was a nice change of pace,” she said with a smirk in Wright’s direction.
“Makes me begin to believe we’ll beat these guys in no time,” Wright replied. “Though trying to keep a damper—”
“Conn, TAO. Aspect change, inbound wormhole.” Bryan interrupted. A moment passed. “League signature, ma’am. I’m showing a frigate at heading two-seven-eight, range seventy kilometers. She’s right on top of us.” He took a breath. “Contact designated as Master Four.”
I knew it was too good to be true. “TAO, designate Master Four as the primary target for all friendly forces.”
“Aye, aye, ma’am.” A few seconds later, Bryan spoke again. “Conn, TAO. Aspect change, inbound wormholes!” His voice tensed as he spoke. “New contacts… two heavy cruisers, designated Master Five and Six. They’re targeting Sierra One, ma’am.”
For a moment, Tehrani’s tongue caught in her throat. Two heavy cruisers? They’d barely taken one out—with help—in the last engagement. If we lose this shipyard, it will cripple our ship-repair capabilities in Canaan. Why hasn’t Command sent more help? She pushed the thoughts out of her mind and focused on the battle. One problem at a time. “Communications, direct the Marcus Luttrell to engage…” She glanced at the plot for a moment. “Master Five.”
“Aye, aye, ma’am.”
“What’s on the flight line and at ready five, XO?”
“Four Mauler bombers… Delta element, ma’am,” Wright replied. He paused and leaned closer. “We need reinforcements. There’s no way our task force will defeat two capital ships.”
Tehrani set her jaw and whispered back, “We can’t abandon the shipyard. Get those bombers in space now.” She turned toward Singh. “Communications, request immediate reinforcements from General Irvine’s command.”
* * *
A short distance away, Justin stared numbly at the battlefield. Fresh League fighters streamed out of the shuttle bays on both newly arrived heavy cruisers, complicating an already-dangerous tactical situation. The only support forthcoming from the Zvika Greengold was another element of bombers. He steeled himself for another fast-paced dogfight. “This is Spencer to Alpha flight. Form on me and prepare to engage hostiles bearing zero-one-zero, two clicks out. We’ll take a run at the ones attacking the Maulers first.”
“Understood, Alpha One,” Feldstein replied.
“This is what I call a target-rich environment,” Mateus cracked. “At this rate, I’ll be a triple ace before the day’s out.”
“Or in a pine box,” Justin said darkly. “This is for keeps, people. Keep it tight and watch your six.”
On Justin’s HUD, a group of eight League craft headed straight for his Sabre element, while others peeled off and zoomed away toward the bombers. Damn, this is going to get hairy. He clicked the safety to his neutron cannons off. “All fighters, break and engage.”
* * *
“Conn, TAO. Forward shields at sixty-eight percent effectiveness. Master Five and Six coming about to engage us on our fore quarter,” Bryan said, his voice carrying across the bridge of the Zvika Greengold.
The deck plates rumbled and vibrated as more plasma cannon blasts and a few missiles made it through their point-defense screen.
Tehrani adjusted her safety harness and stared at the tactical plot then lifted her head and made eye contact with Wright. “If we adjust our heading here,” she said as she touched the screen, “our bombers and the Marcus Luttrell could focus-fire everything they’ve got on Master Five. Do you see anything I’m missing?”
Wright shook his head. “No, ma’am. The only emergency ripcord I can think of is launching all of our small craft.”
“Which we want to avoid at all costs to deal with whatever comes next.”
“Yup. Don’t you wish we were on a Saratoga-class carrier about now?”
Tehrani smiled. “Too big and impersonal. I enjoy knowing the life history of every officer and most senior enlisted personnel under my command.” She turned back to the front, all business. “Navigation, adjust heading to zero-eight-five, mark zero. Increase thrust to flank.”
“Aye, aye, ma’am.”
“TAO, designate Master Five as the priority target for all friendly bombers and inform Sierra One of our new course and speed.”
Arrington is a good-enough ship driver that I don’t have to spell this out for him. Tehrani noted with satisfaction that as they turned, so did the Marcus Luttrell and both Epsilon and Delta elements. Eight Mauler bombers went straight for the League heavy cruiser, while the Luttrell provided fire support. Magnetic cannon shells, neutron beams, and anti-ship missiles crisscrossed space with red plasma balls and the Leaguers’ versions of directed energy weapons. It inflicted significant damage on the enemy’s shields, but they held. Both bomber elements accelerated away for another pass.
“Conn, TAO. Aspect change, inbound wormhole,” Bryan began. “CDF signature… Argyle-class frigate, CSV Sheffield, designated as Sierra Two. She’s dropping out off the port bow, ma’am.”
What
in the heck are they doing here? Tehrani’s mind raced with alarm. She’d warned the frigates off because they had limited weaponry and were of little use against a heavy cruiser.
To her concern, almost immediately, the two capital ships shifted their focus to the new friendly contact. Crucially, they landed several hits on the Sheffield’s hull before she could raise her shields. The tactical plot updated with an icon showing primary-systems failure on the frigate.
“Navigation, bring us about. Intercept course on Sierra Two, flank speed.”
“Skipper?” Wright asked.
“We have to get close enough to extend our shields around them.”
“Our shields are almost fifty percent depleted.”
“Your point, XO?” Tehrani asked quietly. “They’ve got to jump out of here as fast as possible. Or we’ll lose over two hundred good men and women.”
The next report from Bryan only emphasized her point. “Conn, TAO. Sierra Two shields are critical, ma’am. I think she’s suffering reactor failure.”
“Communications, get me the Sheffield.”
“Aye, aye, ma’am,” Singh replied.
A good thirty seconds passed, which seemed like an eternity. “Any time today, Lieutenant,” Tehrani said with a glance at Singh.
“I’m sorry. They’re not responding—”
“Conn, TAO. Sierra Two shields have collapsed.”
“Extend ours, Lieutenant.”
“Aye, aye, ma’am.”
Suddenly, a bright explosion filled the windows at the front of the bridge. Gasps of shock went up from the officers and enlisted crew. Tehrani felt her knees go weak. She knew what had happened before glancing at the tactical plot to see that the icon for the Sheffield had disappeared.
“Conn, TAO. Sierra Two destroyed, ma’am,” Bryan said somberly. He turned in his chair, his mouth wide open in shock. “I couldn’t get our shields around them in time. I’m sorry.”
“We can only do our duty, Lieutenant,” Tehrani replied in a monotone. “We’ll have time to grieve for our friends later. Now, we keep fighting. Navigation…” Thuds from repeated weapons impacts shook the Zvika Greengold. “Resume previous course and turn our port side to the enemy.”
“Aye, aye, ma’am,” Mitzner called.
As the watchstanders’ commands flew back and forth, Tehrani took a few moments to pray for the dead. O God, if they were doers of good, then increase their good deeds. If they were wrongdoers, overlook their bad deeds. O God, forgive them and admit them into Paradise. With the prayer completed, she narrowed her eyes and searched for any possible advantage over the enemy.
* * *
While Justin’s flight helmet had a built-in anti-glare safety feature that dimmed bright lights, he was still blinded by the Sheffield’s explosion. That frigate had two hundred soldiers aboard. Justin immediately pushed the thought down. He would have time for examination of his flying and tactics later. For the moment, he had to focus on one objective: stopping the Leaguers from doing the same thing to the Zvika Greengold.
Grim determination to press on and defeat the enemy filled him. I’ll blow every one of them out of the void.
Two remaining bombers in the formation Alpha had attacked veered off toward the friendly carrier. Justin kicked his Sabre’s afterburners to max thrust and settled into the six o’clock position of one of the enemy craft. He stroked the firing trigger of his fighter’s neutron cannons. The bomber exploded after six bolts hit, collapsed its weakened shields, and shredded the paper-thin hull.
“Nice shooting, sir,” Feldstein called. Her craft loosed two missiles that tracked the remaining bomber. The explosive impact blew the Leaguer apart. “Alpha Two, splash one.”
“It’s not a contest,” Justin replied, grinning. “Okay, we’re clear for a moment. Status check, Alpha flight.”
“Full hull and shields. Stores at thirty percent,” Mateus reported.
“Moderate hull damage. Stores at fifty percent,” Adeoye said. “Still fully combat capable, sir.”
Before Feldstein could chime in, Justin’s HUD lit up with a bevy of new red dots—eight more League bombers launched four at a time from the two heavy cruisers.
He despaired at the sheer numbers of the enemy. “Tally ho, bandits.” Justin quickly tagged the two groups of enemies. “Adeoye, you’re with me. Feldstein and Mateus, intercept the second blob. Under no circumstances can we allow them to launch missiles on the Greengold. Are we clear?”
“Crystal, sir,” Feldstein replied.
“I love a target-rich environment,” Mateus crowed in the background. “Time to take out the trash.”
Note to self—she’s nuts. Justin adjusted the trajectory of his Sabre, drawing an imaginary line through space in his mind. The aim was to come at them slightly off head-on, making the enemy waste their energy-weapon shots while giving him the ability to get a missile lock. He engaged his afterburners yet again. The energy level hadn’t entirely recharged, so he only got a ten-second burst out of them, but it was more than enough. The lock-on tone buzzed, and he pressed the missile-launch button. “Alpha One, fox three.”
As the active LIDAR-guided missile flew away, the bomber it tracked attempted to deploy countermeasures and dodge. It played right into Justin’s hands. He settled behind the enemy craft as the missile hit its shields and depleted them by half. Neutron-beam energy stabbed out from the Sabre and sliced through the remaining deflector strength, repeatedly smashing the thin hull. The Leaguer exploded in a ball of bright-orange flame.
“Alpha One, splash one!”
“Alpha Three, splash one,” Adeoye called.
Justin glanced at the tactical overlay on his HUD and noted with satisfaction that the rest of Alpha was tightly engaged. However, two League bombers had broken through the fighter screen and were closing on the Greengold. He pointed his craft directly at their six o’clock and triggered the Sabre’s afterburners. With even less charge than before, they went dead after six seconds of thrust. Dammit, they’re just outside my range. Then it hit him—he could keep triggering the afterburner and squeeze a series of one-second minibursts out of it. The crew chief is gonna rip me a new one.
“Zvika Greengold to Alpha element. Enemy bombers are almost in range. Request you take them out immediately,” Singh said, breaking into the commlink for squadron commanders. “Do you read, Lieutenant?”
“Loud and clear, Zvika Greengold. I’m about to splash those bandits for you,” Justin replied.
It took him another twenty seconds, but his fighter finally entered weapons range. He toggled the secondary weapon selector to the dumb-fire rocket pod he’d had the crew chief load. I hope to hell this trick works twice. Sliding in directly behind the closest bomber, Justin held down the flight-stick-integrated trigger for his neutron cannons while firing the rockets at the same time. The volley struck home as warhead after warhead exploded against the enemy’s shield. Coupled with damage from the barrage of blue energy, the Leaguer exploded in a fiery ball of orange.
Justin didn’t even have time to give the commlink signal for another kill as he quickly altered his heading and locked on to the next target. Another six-second burst of rockets and neutron cannons resulted in a second destroyed bomber. “Alpha One, splash two.”
“Nice shooting, Lieutenant,” Singh said. “Greengold out.”
Justin pondered for a moment how he was still alive. He’d already taken out several League craft, adding to his running total of over ten. I’m not even that good of a pilot. Perhaps the Leaguers were simply worse pilots. Another wave of bombers launched from the heavy cruisers along with a few fighters. He glanced at the HUD and realized they were closely escorting the larger craft. Whoever’s in charge over there apparently learned their lesson. It would make interdicting the next group that much harder.
“I’m all for a target-rich environment, but this is getting ridiculous,” Feldstein said. “How many bombers can they hold in those cruisers, anyway?”
“As many
as we can blow up.” Mateus chortled. “What do you Americans say? Bring it on.”
Chuckles from all four pilots filled the channel before Justin spoke. “I read four fighters. They appear to be headed right for us.” He paused as he tagged the craft as priority targets. “Alpha Three and Four will engage the bombers. Feldstein, you’re with me. We’ll splash the fast movers and join in to mop up the others. Questions?”
“None, sir,” Adeoye replied.
The Sabres belonging to Mateus and Adeoye sped away on a direct intercept course with the incoming bomber wave, while Justin adjusted his heading slightly to give himself a better attack profile on the rapidly closing enemy fighters. Both sides exchanged active LIDAR-guided missiles, which the superior CDF electronic warfare capabilities spoofed. Justin didn’t see what happened to Feldstein’s warhead, but his hit its target.
Feldstein rolled off to engage one of the four bandits, while Justin tried to spin out and match the maneuvering of the damaged League craft. He initiated a series of scissors moves, swapping places several times and trading ineffective energy-weapons fire with the enemy fighter. Justin was so engrossed in the twisting and turning of the tail chase that he nearly jumped out of his skin when the missile alarm sounded. A quick glance at the HUD showed two warheads inbound.
“Look out, Spencer. You’ve got two fighters on your tail,” Feldstein called. “I’ll be there as soon as I erase this idiot in front of me from the universe.”
Justin twisted his flight stick to the right, rolling away from the inbound threats while simultaneously releasing multiple balls of high-tech LIDAR spoofing chaff. One missile struck a decoy and exploded, while the other tracked him move for move. At the last second, he tried a high-G maneuver, pulling up relative to how his fighter was pointed and engaged the afterburner. It wasn’t enough—the explosion and impact threw Justin forward as the Sabre’s shields absorbed most of the blast. But not everything—the master alarm sounded, its piercing drone insistent of attention. Damage indicators in his HUD sprang up around his left engine. I have to do something now to change the battlefield, or I’m going to die. Fear crept up inside of him, supercharging his senses. “This is Alpha One declaring an emergency.”
Coalition Defense Force Boxed Set: First to Fight Page 10
