“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 punch.
“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
