by Daniel Gibbs
Michelle just rolled her eyes and walked away.
As she did, Justin felt thankful that he was about to have his last time away from them. When Maggie was born, he’d made the choice to get out after two years of active service, as the possibility of his dying in the line of duty always crept up on him prior to deployments. Life as a midlevel product manager for a software company might be boring, but at least he would come home to his family safe and sound every night. Children. Michelle wants a small army of them. He grinned at the thought and kept walking behind her.
Tears streamed down Justin’s face at the memory of Maggie riding on his shoulders in the park. More than anything, he longed to hold her and his wife in his arms and tell them everything would be okay and that he would be home soon. But as there was no way to accomplish that goal, he instead tried to force himself to go to sleep. Hopefully, when he woke, the war would be over. Regardless, perhaps he would be rested and ready to fight again.
5
Deep Space
Terran Coalition Inner Core
28 September 2433
Justin barely slept, if the on-again, off-again thirty-minute naps between staring at the top of his bunk could be called sleep. An hour before he was supposed to report to the squadron ready room, Justin finally roused himself from the bed. He took a quick space shower comprising thirty seconds of water followed by lathering from head to toe with soap and another two minutes of water to rinse—barely enough to beat him back into the land of full alertness.
When Justin stumbled through the hatch to the Red Tails squadron ready room, he found several pilots already there. He mumbled a hello, helped himself to a large mug of black coffee, and sat in a chair. The room was arranged like a small theater, with one exception—every chair in the place was leather, and they were extra comfortable. Makes sense. We sit here for hours, waiting for something to happen.
“Hey,” Feldstein said as she glanced up from a tablet she had been studying intently. “Didn’t hear you come in. You look like crap.”
“Good morning to you, too, Dvora,” Justin replied with a crooked grin. “I couldn’t sleep.”
“It was hard to nod off. I’ll give you that.” She set the tablet down next to her. “What’d you do instead?”
“Tried to vidlink my wife. No dice, thanks to the comms blackout. I eventually got two hours, maybe.” Justin took a sip of the hot coffee and burned his throat. “Aaagh.”
The enormity of the events going on around him was overwhelming. So much for wondering what the defining moment of my life will be. A week ago, he was just another cog in the massive wheel of the Terran Coalition, with a regular civilian job and a small family. Now, I’m at the sharp tip of the spear.
Major Whatley striding through the hatch ended the conversation.
Justin sprang to his feet along with the rest of those present and came to attention.
“As you were,” Whatley said as he walked toward the podium directly in front of the large screen at the front of the room. He synched his tablet with the interface and turned toward the group of pilots. “Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to start by congratulating you on being members of a rare breed: space-combat command pilots who’ve seen actual combat. The entire squadron acquitted itself well. And for that, I commend you.” He cleared his throat. “Now, on to business. We’re two jumps out from Canaan. Communications have improved to the point that we know who we’re fighting: the League of Sol.”
“The league of what?” Mateus interjected. “That sounds like a cult or something.”
Laughter erupted from the other pilots.
Whatley held up his hand. Not a trace of mirth was on his face. “Earth.”
The laughter stopped as quickly as it had started.
“From what the Coalition Intelligence Service can tell, we’re facing humans from Earth. Details are naturally limited, but it would appear that the World Society survived after the rest of us left.”
Justin and Feldstein exchanged glances. He was stunned. Vague bits of history came back to him from high school. Our ancestors escaped Earth over three hundred fifty years ago from communist oppression. Why now? Anger overcame him. With so many habitable planets in the Orion spur, why attack us here? They don’t need the space.
“The why doesn’t concern me. The only thing that does is defeating this enemy.” Whatley touched his tablet, and the 3-D holoprojector came to life, showing a detailed view of the Canaan system with its moons, orbital space installations, and CDF assets. “The fleet has rallied. The enemy outnumbers us five to one.”
Gasps filled the room.
“Oh goody, a target-rich environment,” Mateus said to raucous laughter.
“Lieutenant, be careful what you wish for,” Whatley replied in his gravelly tone. “Though I appreciate the sentiment.” He scanned the room. “The Red Tails will be on ready five, starting in one hour at our next jump. Get a bite to eat, handle your biobusiness, and get strapped in. I’d strongly recommend taking a ration bar with you for the hours of boredom before all hell breaks loose. Consider it a tip from a professional.” He paused for a moment. “Any questions, pilots?”
Silence greeted him.
“Dismissed and Godspeed.”
Everyone sprang up from their chairs and made a beeline for the hatch.
As Justin got down to the first row, Whatley held up his hand. “A word in private, Lieutenant Spencer.”
Justin stepped to one side. Uh-oh. “Of course, sir.”
The hatch closed behind Feldstein, and they were alone.
As Whatley stared at Justin, he had a feeling that Whatley was sizing him up. The major had quite the reputation as an old-school soldier with a gruff and demanding demeanor.
Finally, Whatley spoke. “I’m allowing you to remain in nominal command of the Red Tails. I don’t enjoy having a reservist as my lead fighter pilot, but”—he shrugged—“I have no other choice.”
Justin stiffened and grimaced. “With respect, sir, I did my duty, and Alpha element held its own.”
“You more than held your own. But it doesn’t change that you’re not a career pilot, and as far as I’m concerned, you didn’t join for the right reasons.”
“Sir?”
Whatley smirked. “Come on, Spencer. You and I both know you got a scholarship out of this, put in the minimum time, took deferral to the reserves as soon as you could, and hoped never to see the inside of another military small craft as long as you lived. That about sum it up?”
For a moment, Justin froze. His cheeks heated, while his mouth opened and closed several times. The truth was undeniable. The way he puts it makes me sound like a coward. Justin briefly felt shame before anger took over. He set his jaw. “Major, I… Look, I couldn’t afford school. I tested high in the CVAB. I’d always loved the idea of flying a fighter in space. So, yeah. I took advantage of the hand life dealt me.”
“In my book, you join the military for one reason, son. That’s defending your country against all enemies, foreign and domestic… in case you don’t remember the oath we took.”
Justin gritted his teeth. “Do you have a point, sir?”
“I always have a point, Lieutenant.” Whatley moved, closing to within two inches of Justin's face. “The moment an active-duty squadron is available to replace the Red Tails, I’m taking it. Until then, do as you’re ordered, stay out of my way, and try not to get the men and women under your command killed. Got it?”
“Yes, sir.” Justin forced the words out through barely disguised rage.
“Dismissed.”
Justin turned on his heel and marched out of the ready room as he struggled to control his emotions. Who the hell does Whatley think he is? I did my duty. A black cloud followed him as he prepared to enter the cockpit once more.
“Conn, Navigation. Lawrence drive emergence complete, within a thousand kilometers of target,” Mitzner called as she shifted in her seat.
Tehrani gazed straight ahead, past Mitzner and Bryan an
d out into the black void of space. Seven jumps in ten and a half hours. We’re probably lucky to be alive. She turned to Wright. “Any signs of exotic-particle release?”
“No, ma’am.” Wright leaned forward. “I doubt luck had anything to do with it.”
“And you attribute our good fortune to?”
“Maybe a small touch of divine intervention? I could be charitable and credit our chief engineer.”
Since Tehrani had laid down the law the previous day, Wright and Hodges had seemed to get along much better.
“Both sound plausible to me. What about intel updates?”
“Nothing beyond what we already know. The holonews channels are filled with panicked people and rumors of invasion fleets being sighted across the Terran Coalition. CIS still says there’s one force, and it’s at Canaan. They appear to be going for a knockout blow.”
“It would make sense to decapitate our leadership, primary shipyards, and military installations.”
“Pearl Harbor.”
Tehrani stared at him. “Pearl what?”
“The site of a battle back on Earth. Second World War,” Wright began. “I studied military history during my time at the academy. The Japanese military attempted to destroy the American Navy’s Pacific fleet in one fell swoop. The Americans got lucky and didn’t lose their carriers.”
“I think I remember reading something about that.” Tehrani quirked her nose. “As long as we don’t go down in the history books as losing the war during our first battle.”
“Conn, Communications,” Singh interjected. “Flash traffic from CDF Command.”
“My viewer, Lieutenant,” Tehrani replied. She turned to the monitor as a vidlink image appeared.
“Colonel, this is Lieutenant Andrew MacIntosh. I’m attached to General Irvine’s flag staff.” The young man on the screen was wearing CDF duty khakis. He spoke with a bit of a brogue, which matched the Scottish flag on his left shoulder in the country position.
Tehrani checked the series of authentication codes that came through then nodded. “Understood, MacIntosh. What can we do for you?”
“The CSV Conqueror suffered catastrophic reactor failure while attempting a Lawrence drive jump to the fleet’s muster location. She’s under attack by a small force of League escorts and bombers. The Zvika Greengold is ordered to jump immediately and relieve her by any means necessary then render aid as required to get that battleship back in operation. General Irvine wishes to explicitly remind you that losing any capital vessel will be a severe blow to our cause.”
“Understood, Lieutenant. Will there be any backup?”
“We can’t spare anything beyond your battlegroup. Once the Conqueror is back in action, your unit will receive additional orders. Command out.”
“I’ll give him this—he’s direct,” Wright said. “I see a problem here.”
Tehrani turned her head. “Oh?”
“Our escorts are one jump back. Their drives aren’t as powerful as ours, and we couldn’t jump other ships through without overly straining our engines. That wasn’t supposed to be a problem—”
“But it is now.” Tehrani closed her eyes. Allah help us. “Four or five thousand soldiers are on that old battlewagon, hoping we’ll ride to the rescue, XO.” Smiling, she said, “Semper tempus,” then pointed toward his ballcap emblazoned with the Zvika Greengold’s Latin motto.
“We should at least check with engineering.” Wright made a face. “I have no interest in dying in a Lawrence drive malfunction.”
“Agreed.” Tehrani chuckled and toggled her chair-integrated intercom to contact the primary engineering spaces. “Major Hodges, can you hear me?”
“Yes, ma’am. What can I do for you, skipper?”
“We need to jump as soon as possible. What’s our current risk level?”
“Too high, ma’am. To get under one percent of failure, I need another ten minutes.”
“Make it five.”
“Ma’am—”
“Five minutes, Major.”
“Aye, aye, ma’am.”
Tehrani smiled as the line clicked off. “I learned a long time ago that engineers always pad the estimates.”
“Ain’t that the truth.” Wright laughed. “We’d better alert flight control. This is going to be hairy. I assume you have a plan?”
“Drop out as close to the Conqueror as possible, launch our birds, and hope it’s enough.” I make it sound so easy. While it’s true that we trained for this, the real thing is far different from training scenarios.
“Ah, the simple plan.”
“Touché, XO.” Tehrani turned her eyes forward. “Navigation, plot a jump course to the coordinates loaded in our tactical computer from command.”
“Aye, aye, ma’am.”
“TAO, raise shields and charge the energy weapon capacitor.”
Bryan nodded. “Aye, aye, ma’am. Shields energized. Capacitor charging.”
“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, scramb
le, 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.
