“Thanks, mate. Now, enjoy the show.”
Four Javelin missiles blasted away from the flight of Mauler bombers. With no fighter cover remaining, all the enemy vessel had for protection was its point-defense emplacements, and they weren’t up to the task. Three out of the four warheads impacted the hull of the League destroyer, turning the armor molten and exposing the innards of the ship to the vacuum of space. A few seconds later, secondary explosions erupted from the stricken vessel. It blew up before Justin’s eyes, reduced to one-meter chunks that posed no threat except to an unshielded shuttle. It didn’t quite register mentally that besides erasing the ship, hundreds of souls had been erased from the universe at the same time.
“Pleasure doing business with ya, buggers,” Martin said.
It took Justin a moment to realize Martin was transmitting on the guard frequency.
“Now, how about you bugger off, or we’ll do the same thing to your other ships here, yeah?”
To Justin’s immense surprise, someone with a Russian accent spoke, also on the guard frequency. “You capitalist pigs will die. League conquers all, and death of comrades only inspires us further!”
“What are you? Off your face, mate?”
“My face is on, capitalist dog!”
By that point, every CDF pilot in space was snickering at the exchange. Justin could barely contain his laughter as he aimed his Sabre toward the next group of enemy fighters. “These guys fly about as well as they speak English,” he said.
“All right, wanker. We’ll see you off presently,” Martin replied. “Tally ho, boys. Giant target at one o’clock!”
Still laughing, Justin down-selected to the lead fighter of the next group of bandits headed toward the Mauler flight. He patiently waited for the distance to close enough for a solid missile lock while Martin continued his comedic activities. Justin felt glad for the brash pilot—the running stream of jokes allowed him to forget for a moment that they were in a life-or-death battle.
9
Long shadows ran across the bridge. The area was bathed in dim blue lights as the Zvika Greengold maintained condition one. Tehrani monitored the battle from her tactical plot, noting with satisfaction that Alpha element had cleared a path for the bombers once again. Icons representing anti-ship missiles blossomed from each Mauler and raced into the side of a League destroyer right as the Marcus Luttrell opened fire with magnetic cannons and neutron beams.
“Conn, TAO. Master One neutralized,” Bryan said. “Its engine pods sheared off during the attack run by Sierra One. I’m detecting escape pods launching.”
“Communications, send my compliments to Colonel Arrington,” Tehrani began. Two down, one to go. Shocked by their performance so far, she marveled at how they were dispatching the enemy vessels with ease.
“Don’t count your chickens before they hatch,” Wright intoned.
Tehrani turned toward him. “Get out of my head,” she replied with a grin. “I just thought this was a bit too easy.”
“Yeah, I’m not jinxing us. We can save that for the after-party.”
“Party?”
Wright raised an eyebrow. “Ma’am, when this series of battles is over, this ship’s gonna rock like you’ve never seen. You might want to take shore leave.”
“I can put my liquor down just the same as you, XO.” She winked. “Just because I’m a Muslim doesn’t mean I can’t have fun.”
“Point taken, ma’am.”
“Conn, TAO. Master Two entering weapons range.”
“TAO, firing-point procedures, Master Two, forward neutron beams.”
“Firing solutions set, ma’am,” Bryan said.
“Match bearings, shoot, forward neutron beams.”
Twin spears of blue neutrons shot out of the Greengold and crossed the void at the speed of light. They slammed into the shields of the remaining League destroyer, and the impact point crackled with blue and red hues as the deflector generator pushed back against the solid-energy weapon. The enemy’s protective screens held, but from Tehrani’s readout, they’d weakened considerably from the full power blast. Red plasma balls and anti-ship missiles erupted from the League warship and lashed the Greengold along with the Marcus Luttrell.
“Conn, TAO. We’re taking significant shield damage to our forward arc, ma’am.”
Tehrani checked her display and mentally plotted a new course. “Navigation, come to heading zero-three-eight, mark negative fifteen.”
“Aye, aye, ma’am,” Mitzner called. “Coming to course zero-three-eight, mark negative fifteen.”
The ship rotated slightly, and its thrusters kicked in, pushing them to the direction prescribed. The incoming fire from the League vessel slowed and started hitting the starboard shield instead of the forward generator. All the while, combat between the friendly and enemy small craft continued. To Tehrani’s practiced eye, the blue forces were clearly winning the engagement—at least so far. They’d taken one craft lost to almost a dozen Leaguers. I’ll take that rate of exchange any day. Her heart skipped a beat as she realized how easy it was to be happy she’d only lost one pilot.
“Conn, Communications. A wide-band transmission is coming from the remaining League vessel. Can’t read it, ma’am.”
Wright snorted. “Distress call, most likely.”
“We need to finish that ship off quickly,” Tehrani replied. She leaned forward as a small seed of fear implanted itself in the pit of her stomach. “Communications, vector all friendly assets to attack Master Two.”
“Aye, aye, ma’am,” Singh answered quickly.
The Marcus Luttrell commenced another attack run on the hapless League destroyer. Backed by the Mauler bombers nipping at the enemy’s heels, the Gladius-class vessel’s magnetic cannons and neutron beams flashed in the deep. High-explosive and armor-piercing projectiles raced toward the enemy and exploded against its shields, while the blue neutron beams bored away. Between anti-ship missiles and the Luttrell’s barrage, the Leaguer’s deflectors failed, and minor explosions dotted its hull.
“TAO, energy-weapon capacitor recharge status?”
“Eighty percent, ma’am,” Bryan called over his shoulder.
“TAO, snap shot, Master Two, forward neutron beams.” In CDF parlance, a snap shot was firing a weapon without an affirmative firing solution—a best
