“Sir—”
“Another flight of enemy fighters is inbound. Break and engage.”
“Roger. Wilco,” Justin ground out. “Alpha, form on me.” He adjusted his HUD’s sensor radius outward and realized Whatley was right. As usual. Red icons representing six of the League space-superiority fighters raced toward the friendly bomber formation. How many fighters do they have to fling at us, anyway? Justin deftly adjusted his flight stick, pointing the Sabre in the enemy’s direction.
“Conn, TAO. Master Three shields have failed on their port quarter.”
Tehrani sucked in a breath. Localized shield failures had resulted in several hull breaches and damage across the Zvika Greengold’s superstructure. The old girl’s hanging in there, regardless. She gripped her chair’s hand rests. “TAO, direct all bombers to Master Three’s port quarter.”
The tactical plot was a jumbled mess. Groups of red and blue icons denoting small craft were layered on top of one another. That led to a loss of situational awareness and made it increasingly difficult to issue orders beyond generic requests to attack a specific target. Blue light from the overhead bathed Tehrani’s monitor as she pondered what to do next. The bridge shook as more plasma-cannon fire from the enemy smacked into them.
“Navigation, come about to heading zero-three-eight, mark positive five. All ahead flank.”
“Aye, aye, ma’am.”
“TAO, firing-point procedures, Master Three, forward neutron beams.”
“Firing solutions set, ma’am.”
Seconds turned into a minute as the carrier adjusted its heading and brought its forward arc into range of the League heavy cruiser’s port quarter. The moment Tehrani saw they’d made it, she grinned fiercely. “TAO, match bearings, shoot, forward neutron beams.”
Bright-blue beams of energy erupted out of the Zvika Greengold, slashing at her foe. The thermal heat of the weapon burned and melted the outer armor of the League vessel. While the display was impressive, the enemy’s armor held. Another wave of red plasma balls raced toward the Greengold, splashing red energy on the already-weak shields.
“Conn, TAO. Aspect change… inbound wormhole.” Bryan’s voice held a note of fear.
Tehrani felt it too. The addition of any more enemy warships would probably tilt the battle out of their reach. “Report, Lieutenant.”
“CDF signature, ma’am.” Bryan exhaled quietly. “CSV Marcus Luttrell on station. Designated as Sierra Two.”
Tehrani felt some of the fear abate. “Communications, send my compliments to Colonel Arrington. TAO, designate Master Three as the priority target for the battle group.” Please, Allah, let the rest of our ships get here soon.
“Aye, aye, ma’am,” Singh replied quickly.
Almost immediately, the Marcus Luttrell turned, and her weapons suite lashed out at the large League cruiser. Magnetic cannon turrets, neutron beams, and missile cells all unleashed their fury at the enemy. While in a head-to-head fight, the destroyer would be outmatched. With the other vessel’s shields down, it evened out.
Faced with three targets, the cruiser split its fire between the Luttrell and the Greengold while seeming to forget the Conqueror existed.
Friendly bombers and fighters added streams of miniature neutron-cannon fire along with antiship missiles. The concentrated effect of the various munitions’ slamming into the heavy cruiser at the same time was pronounced. Pieces of armor blasted off, followed by significant secondary explosions that blew chunks of hull into the depths of the void. Finally, something vital was hit—either a reactor, a warhead magazine, or a shuttle bay—and the League vessel exploded into two-foot pieces.
Spontaneous, wild cheering broke out on the bridge as younger soldiers and a few officers clapped. It only took a few seconds for a grizzled senior chief to yell, “As you were! Maintain proper bridge protocol!”
Tehrani suppressed a smile. I suppose the youngsters have earned it. She turned her attention back to the tactical plot. A frigate and a destroyer remained. They maneuvered about and continued to fire on the Conqueror. They’re persistent, if nothing else.
“Conn, TAO,” Bryan called. “Sierra One is powering up its weapons.”
While the volume of fire from the Zvika Greengold’s small craft and the Marcus Luttrell was impressive, it was nothing compared to what the Conqueror could hurl into the fight. Helicar-sized shells weighing over a thousand kilograms raced out of her magnetic cannons, while half a dozen blue neutron beams raked the enemy warships. The frigate exploded outright under the barrage, barely leaving enough debris to scan. The remaining League destroyer merely suffered its engine housings being sheared off by the powerful Terran Coalition energy weapons. Its running lights dimmed, and the crippled wreck tumbled in space.
“Wow.” Wright let out a short whistle. “That’s some serious firepower.”
Tehrani nodded. “I’ve never seen a battleship fire its primary armament before. Glad they’re on our side.”
“Conn, Communications. I have General Rubin for you, ma’am,” Singh interjected.
“Put him on my monitor, Lieutenant.”
The familiar face of Rubin appeared on the monitor above Tehrani’s head. He wore a fierce warrior’s grin. “Colonel, please pass on my gratitude to your pilots and crew. We wouldn’t have survived without their courage and sacrifice.”
Two pilots lost to save a battleship. Briefly, Tehrani considered the cost. Logically, losing two souls to save thousands was a win. But it was still two families who wouldn’t see their loved ones again. She’d never had to write a letter of condolence to someone who died under her command. That makes three in the last twenty-four hours, and Allah only knows how many more. While sadness crept into her mind, she pushed all emotion down. There will be time to grieve after the battle. “Thank you, General. Likewise, your ship ended the battle with an exclamation point. I’m in your debt.”
Rubin shook his head. “Just wait till we get the Conqueror fully operational again.” He narrowed his eyes. “She’ll blast every League warship between here and Canaan to bits.” Something off screen distracted him for a moment, then he turned back to the camera. “Our Lawrence drive is charged. Good hunting and Godspeed, Colonel. Rubin out.”
The screen went black, and a few moments later, the massive battleship opened a wormhole through the stars. The physical manifestation of the tunnel
