by Daniel Gibbs
“Communications, signal our reinforcements to transit to our coordinates now,” Seville commanded.
A moment later, the communications officer looked up from his station. “Admiral, message received and confirmed. They will jump in momentarily.”
Strappi walked over to Seville and leaned close. “Admiral, what reinforcements?” he asked, bewildered.
Seville smiled thinly at his political officer. “I had a small squadron of my best ships waiting just in case we needed them. I had expected to see the pride of the Coalition fleet, the Ark Royal, pursuing us, but they’ll do against this new ship just the same.”
“How did you get this past the Social and Public Safety Committee, Admiral?” Strappi asked, the tone of his voice indicating a level of respect and fear.
“Because not everything in the League goes through the bloody Social and Public Safety Committee,” Seville said, derision dripping from his voice like acid. “There was a contingency plan in place if we needed it. Turns out we did.”
The tactical officer broke into the conversation with an announcement. “Admiral, we have eight wormholes opening; our reinforcements have arrived.”
Seville smiled. “Checkmate.”
On the bridge of the Lion of Judah, David had been counting down the seconds until his ship could see again, ready to finish the fight against the League warship.
“Conn, TAO! LIDAR array online…” Ruth’s voice shot up an octave. “I’m showing nine contacts, sir!”
“Confirm that, TAO! What are the ship classes of those contacts?” David barked. Sheila stared in alarm.
“Conn, TAO. I show one Behemoth class Dreadnaught, designation Master One…four Rand class cruisers designated Master Two through Five…and four Lancer class frigates designated Master Six through Nine. Sir, the Rands have fighter craft detaching from them. I’m reading some kind of rail launch system.”
Rail launch system for fighters, what the heck? David had read about a contraption like that in intelligence reports concerning the very top tier of League ships and elite crews but had never engaged one in combat. He quickly realized that this battle group was designed to engage a fleet carrier without her escorts. But perhaps not a battleship of the Lion’s design. Stopping himself from overthinking the tactics, he concentrated on the situation at hand. He had to solve one problem at a time and prevent the enemy from getting inside of his OODA loop. “TAO, do you have a read on how many fighters we’re facing and what types?”
“Sir, I estimate at least fifty League fighters. They’re too far out to identify fully, but at least some appear to be larger bombers.”
“Conn, TAO! Aspect change, all contacts. They are moving to engagement range, sir. Master One through Five are standing off, while Master Six through Nine are maneuvering to cover our fighter bays with point defense fire.”
David punched up his tactical plot on the viewer directly in front of his command station. It was clear that the League fleet intended to prevent him from launching fighters, while they overwhelmed the defenses of the Lion. He quickly decided that the only course of action was to disable the frigates and scramble the Lion’s fighter wing to engage the League fighters and capital ships.
“TAO, firing point procedures. Load high-explosive shells into the mag-cannons. Target Master Six, Seven, Eight, and Nine with mag-cannons and neutron beams.”
“Aye aye, sir, weapons loaded, firing solutions set.”
“TAO, shoot, all weapons,” David said, a hard edge to his voice.
Magnetic cannon rounds shot out from the Lion, striking the shields of all four League frigates. As the high-explosive rounds impacted, causing extensive energy drain, neutron beam fire raked over the frigates. The shields of the two closest frigates failed, and they exploded as multiple impacts slammed into their weak and brittle hulls.
“Conn, TAO. Master Six and Eight destroyed, Master Nine neutralized, Master Seven is continuing on course,” Ruth said.
“TAO, spin up automated point defense, set a perimeter around the ship so our fighters can launch.”
“Conn, TAO. Automated Point Defense engaged. We have a perimeter of twenty thousand kilometers.”
David reassessed his tactical plot. “Communications, get me Colonel Amir.”
Taylor cued up Amir’s personal command channel. “He’s patched in to your station, sir.”
David spoke into the mic. “Amir, I need you to launch your wing and engage the League fighters and capital ships. I want to engage the Rands and degrade them enough so we can close in and finish this.”
Amir’s voice came through strong in reply. “Understood, Colonel. The Reapers are standing by to launch. We are armed up for interdiction and capital ship engagement.”
David glanced down at the mic as he spoke into it. “Good hunting and Godspeed, Colonel.”
“Inshallah.”
Amir was in the middle of running his final pre-flight check when David ordered the launch of the wing. Once completed, he cued the pre-set 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.” Sadness filled her voice.
“We’ve got a job to do, Major. Let’s get out of here and kick them back to Earth,” Amir replied. Truthfully, he hated the League with a passion. He 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 simply 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 now, he was still mad as hell.
Amir switched his commlink to the Air Bosses’ 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 looked down at his console and pressed the button to launch. He was always the first in space; there was no feeling like the thrill of launching at full speed out of the side of a hangar into the blackness of the void. It never got old; he could never see himself doing anything else. 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 carried on the Lion to launch, he studied the sensor readouts of the approaching League craft as they did.
As the last of his wing thundered into space, 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 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 did outnumber them almost two to one, he felt confident in the training of his pilots and in 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 had nothing on the Coalition. Fifteen seconds out from maximum engagement range, he cued the commlink to reach his entire squadron.
“Reapers, this is Reaper One. There’s a layer of League fighters 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 status free!”
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 entere
d max range, Amir locked on to a League fighter; it took several seconds for him to hear the lock-on sound, or what the pilots called tone. “Reaper One, Fox Three,” he called out as he fired an active LIDAR tracked missile. There were other calls of Fox Three from his squadron, as every fighter lined up and fired on a League craft. Simultaneously, the League fighters fired their own missiles at the wave of CDF fighters.
With some level of 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 in behind one of the multi-crewed craft, Amir pulled up his miniature neutron cannons and fired on the bomber in front of him. “Reaper One, guns, guns, guns.”
It took several seconds of sustained fire and multiple hits from his neutron cannons before the League bomber finally exploded. “Reaper One, splash one. Splash one bandit!”
The missile warning light and tone suddenly sounded in Amir’s cockpit. He realized that while he was 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 basically wondered where the League had gotten what appeared to be an entire squadron of elite pilots, his training had simply 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 and tumbling.
In the several seconds it took Amir to get 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.”
Glancing at the 3D battle map on his HUD, Amir could see his wingman closing in on the League fighter that was furthest away from him. That left two deadly interceptors in his blind spot trying to lock on for a shot. He adjusted himself in his flight chair as the missile warning light came on again; this time, he pulled the stick down hard and increased the thrust to maximum. The Gs he pulled were so high that he approached black out. But his gamble paid off; he found himself hurtling toward the enemy fighters and blew past them so fast that neither he or the enemy could obtain a lock.
Looping back around, Amir pushed his fighter to its maximum limits and took advantage of momentary disorientation by the League pilots. He settled in behind one of the craft that fired a missile at him, triggering his target acquisition system. “Reaper One, Fox Three!” he said as the LIDAR guided missile leapt from its launching bay on his fighter and roared after 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. Taking a moment to check in on the progress of his squadrons, he noted that the bombers and their escorting fighters had made it through the furball that was ongoing 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. That determination would be for later, 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!”
Cueing the communications channel, Amir called out, “Reaper One, Splash two. Splash two!”
Hotdogging just a little bit, Amir then performed a barrel roll in his fighter while saying “Allahu Akbar,” an Arabic saying 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 of the Lion. Glancing at the tactical plot on his station, he observed 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 shield emitter’s 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. Mag-cannons and neutron beams.”
“Conn, TAO. Firing solutions set on Master Three.”
“TAO, match bearings, shoot, all weapons.”
Magnetic cannon shells raced out from the Lion of Judah at thirty percent of the speed of light toward the League formation. Most impacted upon the shields of the targeted Rand, weakening said shields dramatically. The neutron beam strikes inflicted damage on the hull plating of the Rand, but not enough to disable it. While the Lion’s weapons recharged, the Rand shifted formation, falling back to the other side of the sphere formation while another ship covered her. However, the League ships were free to continue to pour weapons fire onto the Lion.
“Conn, TAO! Master Three has disengaged after receiving moderate damage, sir.”
As Ruth spoke, weapon impacts slammed into the Lion from the three Rand’s remaining in line of sight, in addition to the Destruction. “Conn, TAO. Forward shield collapse is imminent, sir.”
“Damnit,” David said under his breath, drawing a look from Sheila. “Navigation, left thirty degrees, turn our forward shield out of the enemies firing arc, and present our port shield quadrant.”
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!”
David looked toward Hammond. “Navigation, maximum turn!” he barked.
“Conn, navigation. Acknowledged, sir. We’re moving as fast as she can. Another seven seconds before we’ve got our forward shield out of their firing lane.”
As Hammond spoke, a strong shock was felt by David and the rest of the bridge crew, lurching the ship forward. Several seconds later, the speaker on David’s station sprang to life. “Engineering, Conn. 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 and there was a pregnant pause on the line. “Sir, venting controls are inoperative,” Hanson reported. David looked at Sheila, thinking that this 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. Clearly lacking a shakedown cruise before being put into use, the Lion was going to suffer
from a lot of small glitches. It was just that this one had an outsized effect on the ship.
“Engineering, get as many damage control teams as we can to the magazine.” David spoke into the mic and then glanced at 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,” David said into the mic rapidly.
“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 said, glancing at her briefly 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 co-pilot’s chair onboard next to the warrant officer that flew 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 we throw up,” Calvin retorted, smiling.
“What’s the matter, Colonel, age catching up with you?” she asked with a grin.
“What is it with all the wiseasses on this ship?” Calvin said with mock annoyance.
