Holding down his energy-weapons firing trigger, Justin put shot after shot into the bomber’s tail section and was finally rewarded with it exploding into a million pieces. He didn’t call his kill over the commlink or even mentally acknowledge it. Like a machine, he turned his focus to the last bomber and slid his craft over to line up behind it.
The lock-on tone sounded again, its loud buzzing almost a dagger to the mind. Justin launched another LIDAR-guided anti-fighter missile, leaving him with only one left in onboard stores. He was dangerously low on munitions. If this keeps up, all I’ll have left are my neutron cannons. Despite the League bomber’s attempt to maneuver away, the friendly warhead pressed home its attack and hit the enemy’s protective shields. Again, Justin was ready, firing bolt after bolt of blue energy into its hull. Like the other craft before it, the bomber exploded in a ball of orange flames, burning against the blackness of space for a moment before it consumed all onboard oxygen.
Justin felt utterly amazed he was still alive as he stared at his HUD. Four more kills—and somehow his fighter was operational despite no support. He noted with satisfaction that the rest of Alpha element and the friendly bombers were clustered around the Greengold, ready to land. As he turned his Sabre back toward the carrier, a sixth sense came over him. The hair on the back of his head stood up. It took a moment to realize why: the remaining League fighters were directly behind him.
The inbound-missile alarm went off, filling the cockpit of Justin’s craft with a persistent beeping. Muscle memory leaped into action as he deployed several canisters of LIDAR-spoofing chaff and pulled up hard on the flight stick.
“Capitalist has trouble to fight real pilot,” came the same heavily accented Russian voice over the guard frequency. “Enjoy fake afterlife, kozyol.”
As Justin looped around, he narrowly avoided one of the enemy missiles that didn’t take the bait and go after his chaff canisters. The other one did—exploding violently but harmlessly eight hundred meters away. Too close for comfort. He flashed by the two League fighters and killed his forward thrust, using the speed he’d built up to execute a turn in heading that reversed the Sabre’s course. The g-forces from it nearly caused him to black out. But in combat, nearly was the difference between life and death.
“Where you go, pig? Come back and fight.”
Justin grinned as he kicked his engine thrust back to maximum and engaged the afterburner. It only took him a few seconds to settle into the six o’clock position of the nearby enemy craft. While his onboard LIDAR system locked on the target, he cued the transmitter on the commlink. “Hey, Leaguer. I’ve got a weather report for you.” The missile-lock tone sounded, and Justin immediately pressed the launch button. “A thousand degrees Celsius and fiery.” The weapon raced away and, thanks to the short distance, quickly entered terminal-homing mode and exploded against the fighter’s shields. All the while, he sent bolt after bolt of blue neutron energy into the hapless target. A moment later, the League craft exploded in a ball of orange.
“Just you and me, mudak.”
“What’s a mudak?” Justin asked. His Sabre pawed the vacuum as he tried to line up the last enemy. “I don’t think I’ve heard that insult before. Did you make it up just now?”
Hard laughter filled the commlink. “Russian word for testicle. It mean you, idiot. You cannot fight entire League. We sweep you aside.”
“Yeah, well, I swept your friends aside like they weren’t even there,” Justin replied. He squeezed the firing trigger for his craft’s neutron cannons, sending bolt after bolt of highly charged blue energy into the void.
A few connected with the enemy, but the opposing pilot had skill. He juked to one side and rolled away from the barrage. Then, in a flash, the League fighter pulled a one-hundred-eighty-degree Immelmann change in direction. The distance between the two craft decreased to point-blank range as the Leaguer fired aggressively at Justin’s Sabre.
The missile-lock-on alarm sounded, causing Justin to pull back hard on his flight stick, attempting to match the Immelmann. Simultaneously, he triggered his chaff dispenser, only to find it empty. Oh shit. For a moment, panic threatened to take over inside Justin’s mind. He forced it down and hit the afterburner, trying to gain some distance on the incoming warheads—anything to give him space to work with.
It didn’t work. Both tracked his fighter flawlessly and exploded violently against the Sabre’s shields. They failed in an instant, and the loud buzz of the master alarm filled the cockpit.
“Paka paka, Terran,” the Russian pilot called harshly across the void.
Justin realized as he moved his flight stick to the right that his controls were sluggish. A glance at the internal repair diagnostic showed why: damage to the Sabre’s internal hydraulic systems and a busted thruster. His HUD showed the Leaguer lining up perfectly behind him. I was so close. Part of him demanded to know why he’d had to be a hero, especially when he’d avoided any hint of combat throughout his short military career.
“Bye-bye yourself, Leaguer.” Feldstein’s voice cut through the mental noise.
With shock followed quickly by relief, Justin stared at the sensor display as two active LIDAR-tracked missiles loosed from Feldstein’s fighter and ran into the aft shield of the enemy craft. Just like that, it exploded in a ball of flames, and he went from being dead to saved.
Justin let out a breath. “Lieutenant, thank you.” His voice shook. It took a few seconds for him to realize how close to death
