“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, scramble, 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
