“Conn, TAO. Sensors online… showing three League of Sol destroyers, designated Master One, Two, and Three.” Bryan turned around. “Master One and Three are pretty banged up. It appears as if they took damage from automated defenses.”
“Prioritize those ships for our fast movers,” Tehrani replied. “Launch ready fighters and bombers.”
“All ready craft launching now, ma’am,” Wright said. “I show four Sabres and four Maulers in space and forming up.”
“TAO, firing point procedures,” Tehrani began, not missing a beat. “Master Three, forward neutron beams.”
“Firing solutions set, ma’am.”
“Match bearings, shoot, forward neutron beams.”
Justin was filled with wonder and amazement as his Sabre rocketed out of the Greengold’s hangar bay, pawing the vacuum. It was difficult not to be. Bright-blue beams erupted from the carrier’s bow and slammed into the shields of one of the enemy destroyers. Red energy radiated around the strike. If he weren’t in the middle of a fight for his life and the continued existence of the Terran Coalition, it might’ve been a beautiful display.
“Alpha One, I’m showing a bunch of debris out here,” Feldstein said. “Guessing it’s what’s left of the defense emplacements.”
That deep inside of Canaan’s system-defense grid, there would be point-defense and anti-ship batteries, but most of the protection would come from other ships. At least that was what Justin remembered reading. “In other words, we’re on our own?”
“Exactly, sir.”
A group of four enemy fighters lit up on Justin’s HUD. They headed directly for the Epsilon bomber formation. “Alpha, break and attack inbound enemies. Weapons-free status. I say again, weapons-free status. Splash ’em.”
“Well, what else did you expect us to do?” Mateus asked in a goofy voice. “Shake hands and offer them a bowl of feijoada?”
Feldstein laughed. “It might give them indigestion.”
As they bantered back and forth, Justin watched the range to target close rapidly. He lined up with the lead fighter and waited for the missile-lock-on tone. Checking his weapon stores, he was happy to see that besides the normal Vulture LIDAR-active-tracking antifighter missiles, he had a pod of dumb-fire rockets. Those will come in handy if League bombers appear. Heh, when they appear. A harsh buzzing filled the cockpit. Justin depressed the missile-launch button. “Alpha One, fox three.”
The weapon dropped smoothly out of the internal weapons bay, ignited its engine, and sped away rapidly. A moment later, a blue icon appeared on Justin’s HUD, representing the Vulture. He lined up the targeting reticule for his miniature neutron cannons and squeezed the firing trigger the second he was in range.
Between the missile and numerous streaks of blue neutron energy, the target exploded in short order. The orange blast quickly ended, as the available oxygen supply from the fighter’s life-support system was consumed almost immediately.
But the remaining League craft weren’t sitting ducks. They gamely returned fire from their plasma cannons while sending anti-fighter warheads from their internal weapons stores into the fray.
Justin’s HUD came alive with competing alerts, missile icons, and threat indicators. Like every other encounter so far, the engagement quickly degenerated into a quick-turning dogfight, with him chasing enemies’ aft sections to score another kill—with the added challenge of avoiding death himself. “Alpha One, splash one. Engaged with hostile fighters.” He rocked the flight stick to the left, avoiding a stream of plasma balls as they sailed past his craft. “Epsilon, you’re clear for an attack run.”
“Right, mate, we’re on it. Going after Master Three. Keep those buggers off us, Alpha,” Martin said. “Extra beer for all of you if my old girl doesn’t get shot up again.”
“You’re on, Martin.” Justin laughed softly. Even in the heat of battle, the colorful pilot brought a smile to Justin’s face. He sent another volley of neutron energy at a League fighter, which dodged most of the incoming fire. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mateus eradicate another enemy.
“Alpha Four, splash one.”
Taking advantage of the momentary lull in fighter combat, the four Mauler bombers lined up for their attack runs. Martin took the lead, and two anti-ship missiles streaked away from his craft. The others followed in short order, leaving a total of eight fusion warheads headed for the League destroyer. Following them in, the bombers added streams of miniature neutron-cannon energy to the mix, causing red impact effects all over the shields of the enemy vessel.
A Lawrence-drive-generated wormhole opened within a few kilometers of Jason’s craft. It took a few seconds for the onboard combat computer to classify its IFF as the CSV Marcus Luttrell. Justin breathed a sigh of relief as the friendly destroyer opened up with all its might, sending neutron beams and magnetic-cannon rounds into Master Three. The Leaguer ship took a beating, and eventually, its protective screens blinked out. Instead of red shield effects, minor explosions blossomed across its armor plating and hull.
“Right on, mates. That’s how you do it!” Martin exclaimed. “Can you do something about the bloody wanker trying to lock me up, Alpha? I’d much rather stick a Javelin up this commie’s tailpipe than have to veer off to avoid another missile heading for my old girl.”
Justin had to stare at the HUD and its augmented-reality display for several seconds before he picked out the offending fighter Martin was talking about. Once he located it, Justin tagged the target as his primary and engaged full afterburner. The Sabre rocketed forward, quickly reaching maximum thrust. He allowed the g-forces to build to an almost unbearable level, mentally calculating the time to intercept. Come on. Come on. The Greengold couldn’t handle an extended capital-ship engagement, and the bombers needed time to lock on properly and fire their large, poorly maneuvering anti-ship missiles. But the League pilot seemed to have an almost myopic focus on Martin’s craft and didn’t react to his approach.
The missile-lock-on tone sounded, and Justin pressed the launch button. An active LIDAR-tracking warhead dropped out of the internal stores bay. A moment later, its engine engaged, and it rocketed away. “Alpha One, fox three!” he called.
As his fighter entered energy-weapons
