“Working on it, ma’am.”
“Work faster,” Tehrani replied with a smile. “I fear we have little time before we’re thrust into the next battle.” And may Allah have mercy on our souls.
“How’s it going, sir?”
“Peachy,” Justin replied.
Feldstein was still only twenty meters away from him, flying close escort. While the enemy threat was gone, his fighter was still nearly unflyable. The autorepair system was attempting to repair the flight-control surfaces, but with so much damage, it was a herculean task.
“Any improvement in controlling your bird, sir?”
“Negative. I can steer, but it’s very sluggish.”
An unfamiliar voice broke into the conversation. “Alpha One, this is Zvika Greengold flight deck control. I show you coming in at two hundred meters per second. Slow to fifty and stand by to call the ball.”
Justin cued his mic. “Negative, Control. I don’t have enough positive control over my fighter to land. Request permission to eject and be retrieved by S and R.”
“Negative, Alpha One,” Whatley interjected. “We don’t have time for that evolution. Who knows when the next wave will show up… the Greengold needs to get scarce. I’ve ordered the flight deck to prepare for a hazard landing and clear off section three.”
“Sir, it’s too much of a risk to the ship,” Justin protested. “If my craft were to explode, it would cause secondary explosions. Leave me behind and come back later when it’s safe.”
“Stow it, Spencer. I give the orders around here, and no one, not even your sorry ass, gets left behind. Follow instructions for once in your life.”
The commlink clicked off with a noticeable sound, leaving Justin in silence. The hangar bay of the carrier grew larger in front of him. Soon, he would be able to make out the deck crew running around and other fighters taxiing around the area. Fear gnawed at him. “Feldstein, am I still trailing vapor?”
“Yes, sir.”
Justin closed his eyes. If I believed in God, now would be a good time to pray. It wasn’t so much that he didn’t think a higher being existed or even that it had created the universe. He’d long ago decided that whatever people had in life was the product of their own work, luck, and nothing more. God, if He existed, didn’t interact with lower life forms. Still, it would’ve been comforting to believe in something more. Justin tried with all his might to keep the Sabre straight and level. Beads of sweat dripped down his forehead. “Slowing to twenty-five meters per second, Control.”
“Acknowledged, Alpha One. I show you at three-quarters of a kilometer. Call the ball.”
“Alpha One, ball, one point five.” Justin’s reply indicated he could see the optical landing system lights and was nearly aligned for a landing in the forward portion of the bay. Gravimetric arrestor control would snag the Sabre as he flew it in, but with his controls so sluggish, it would be nearly impossible to course correct.
“Roger, Alpha One. Ball at five hundred meters per second. Adjust axial course as necessary.”
Justin tried to control his breathing, heart rate, and stress level. He would have to adjust course to avoid slamming into the bulkhead. Usually, it would have been child’s play. “Confirmed. I see the lights.”
At the last second, the carrier pitched up slightly. “Oh shit,” Justin said as he tried to match the movement. His hard maneuver on the flight stick generated an overcorrection.
“Abort! Abort!” the landing officer screamed. “Full-power abort!”
“Negative,” Justin replied as he forced the fighter down centimeter by centimeter. “I can’t turn fast enough to abort. Deploy emergency arrestor barrier.” He flipped the commlink to the private channel with Feldstein. “Lieutenant, if it looks like I’m going into another craft or something flammable, shoot me down.”
“Sir?”
“That was a direct order, Lieutenant. I will not cause the deaths of everyone on this ship. Are we clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
Every ounce of concentration Justin had went into trying to effect slight changes in his course to line up with the gravfield that would catch his fighter and stop its forward momentum. Every attempt resulted in immediate overcorrection. He couldn’t slow down because the Greengold was moving too fast. He suddenly wondered if he was going to die.
“Alpha One, adjust five degrees to your left.”
Justin grunted. “Acknowledged.” Yeah, file that under ‘No shit, Sherlock.’
The last seconds ticked down, and not a moment too soon, he reduced thrust to three meters per second as his Sabre entered the flight deck. He was too high and fast. Red lights flashed, showing he was off target, before the gravfield tried to grab his craft. It shot through the first and second arrestor fields, leading Justin to determine he was probably about to buy the farm.
Suddenly, Justin’s entire body pitched forward, and his helmet collided with the lip of the cockpit HUD screen. As his vision blurred, he saw stars. I’m not dead. A glance out of the canopy confirmed that the last and strongest emergency arrestor field had grabbed his fighter. It gently lowered the Sabre to the deck. He popped the canopy-release button and turned to see a ladder pushed up against the side.
“LT, you okay in there?” a crew chief called up. “Let us know if you need a medic.”
“No, no. I can climb down,” Justin replied. He felt determined to exit the fighter the same way he’d entered it—on his own two feet. One rung at a time, he made it down to the deck. As soon as Justin did, his knees gave out, and he grabbed the ladder to steady himself.
A small crowd had already gathered around and gave a cheer.
He held up a hand. “Thanks, guys. Nothing to be excited about… I was just doing my job.”
Mateus pushed out in front of the group of pilots and flight crew. “You were like a hero from the holovids, shooting down enemies left and right and evading fire.” Her eyes held admiration. “I wish I could fly that well.”
“Did she just admit someone else is a better
