“No problem, sir. That was one hell of a show you put on. We were all cheering, but it looked like you could use some help.”
“You arrived just in time,” Justin replied. His voice broke as he spoke.
“Never out of the fight, sir.”
“I’ll drink to that.” He paused for a moment and tried to move his craft from side to side. It was still extraordinarily slow to respond to his inputs. “I think I’ve got a flight-control problem, Lieutenant. Could you come alongside and take a look?”
“Yes, sir. Can you maneuver to head back to the Greengold?”
After fighting with the controls, Justin got his Sabre pointed in the general direction of the carrier. “She’s lined up as best as I can, but fine movements are difficult.”
“Understood, sir. Give me a moment here.”
It didn’t take long for Feldstein to match speeds with him, especially considering that his afterburner was out, and Justin’s fighter was barely moving at half of its speed potential. Her Sabre came in closer, until he could see her through the cockpit window. “Sir, you’ve got some big chunks of wing missing out here, and you’re trailing vapor. Not sure what it is. Could be O2. Might be fuel.”
“Thanks, Lieutenant.” Dammit. I can’t land in this condition on a crowded flight deck. It wasn’t even an option because of the risk to his fellow pilots and shipmates.
“Alpha One, this is Major Whatley. What is your status?”
Justin flipped his commlink to the command channel. “Heavily damaged, sir. Probably won’t be able to land. Recommend you recover all pilots and come back for me later.”
“Figure out a safe landing vector, Spencer. There won’t be a later.”
Nothing that didn’t end in a string of curse words came to Justin’s mind. He muttered, “Acknowledged, sir.”
Feldstein cut in. She’d overridden his comms channel with a private commlink. “Sir. I wanted to tell you it’s been an honor serving with you. That was… brilliant, sir.”
Justin looked out of his cockpit toward her craft and saw her hand up in salute. He brought his hand to his brow and returned the gesture. “Likewise. Thanks for saving my rear end. Hopefully I’ll get to repay you someday.”
“I’m going to hold you to that.”
Tehrani held on to the CO’s chair so tightly that her knuckles turned white. The bridge seemed to heave and bend around them. Though the shift was an optical illusion, it still generated concern. Sparks showered from the overhead behind her, and what sounded like a fuse blew. It left parts of the area in darkness, with dark shadows playing across the consoles.
“Hull integrity is at seventy-eight percent, ma’am. The Marcus Luttrell is shot full of holes. It’s time to scoop our pilots and go,” Wright said insistently.
As Tehrani opened her lips to give the order for all craft to perform a combat landing, Bryan interrupted her. “Conn, TAO. Aspect change, inbound wormhole.”
She held her breath.
“CDF signature! It’s the Conqueror, ma’am!” Bryan’s tone drifted toward unprofessional.
Tehrani had no problem forgiving the momentary lapse. “Communications, send General Rubin my compliments and request his immediate assistance.”
“Aye, aye, ma’am.”
“Conn, TAO. Conqueror has extended her shields to include us and Sierra One,” Bryan called.
As he spoke, the rumbling ceased. The massive battleship swept forward, and its magnetic cannons spoke as one. Helicar-sized shells erupted from the triple-barreled turrets, sending a wave of death toward the League heavy cruisers. Simultaneously, Starbolt anti-ship missiles and neutron beams lashed out and impacted their hulls as the protective deflector screens collapsed. One ship exploded outright as a neutron beam found a fuel bunkerage or warhead magazine, while the other hung on, firing back with everything it had.
A ragged cheer lasting a few seconds went up from the enlisted soldiers on the bridge and quickly died down as it became apparent the fight was still on. The battered League heavy cruiser swung around. As it did, a fresh wave of plasma balls crashed against the overextended shields of the Conqueror.
“Conn, TAO. Sierra Two can’t take too much of this,” Bryan called. “She’s already lost more than half of her shield cohesion.”
Tehrani stared at her tactical plot momentarily. Of course they did. The farther out a deflector generator tries to project from the hull, the worse the problem gets. “Navigation, intercept course, Sierra Two. TAO, send our fast movers back at Master Six.”
“Aye, aye, ma’am.”
A series of orders and responses followed as the bridge team worked to get the ship closer to the Conqueror and finish off the last two League vessels. On Tehrani’s display, the icons representing Alpha and Epsilon rushed toward the enemy. Additional symbols showing anti-ship missiles separated from the blue dots marking the bombers and dashed away.
“Conn, TAO. Master Five disabled.”
Again, the Conqueror’s entire weapons suite lashed in the void. Magnetic cannon shells flew out of their barrels, while blue neutron beams raked the remaining League vessel. In the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t fair. Cruisers weren’t designed to stand up to line battleships. But Tehrani felt no remorse as she watched the enemy ship explode into one-meter chunks.
“Conn, TAO. Master Six destroyed. All enemy contacts are down.”
Tehrani allowed herself a momentary smile. “Thank you, Lieutenant. Order our fighters to clean up the remaining enemy small craft.” She checked the tactical plot—only one was left. “Then get our people back aboard.”
“How’d you know?” Wright asked quietly.
“I didn’t,” Tehrani replied. “I was about to order a withdrawal.”
He nodded. “Well, a miss is as good as a mile, as my grandmother used to say.”
She thought of a famous general from the Ottoman empire—Osman Nuri. He’d held the line against Russian forces during a brief war between the two countries in the late nineteenth century on Earth. The fighting they were currently engaged in—brutal defensive actions and what seemed like a last stand—was what had made the pasha a hero. Will I go down in history the same way? Losing my command but inspiring others to fight? Tehrani forced the thoughts from her mind and focused on the task
