“Aye, aye, ma’am. Firing solutions set.”
“Match bearings, shoot, forward neutron beams.”
Two blue spears shot out of the Zvika Greengold’s bow, crossed the void at the speed of light, and slammed into the hull of the enemy frigate. In one side and out the other, they cut through its brittle hull like a hot knife through butter. Moments later, the vessel exploded in a chain reaction of orange-and-blue flames that quickly vanished in the darkness of space.
Out of the corner of Tehrani’s eye, a blue dot marked as disabled and very close to the center of the League fleet started moving. At first, she thought it was an optical illusion or a sensor echo. She zoomed in the plot to see the icon labeled as the CSV Salamis. The info box attached to it proclaimed Major Levi Cohen as the commanding officer. A reservist. Lots of those in action today. By Allah, that ship dates back to the Saurian Wars. She realized they must’ve pulled it out of the emergency-reserve mothball fleet. What could the old destroyer possibly accomplish? “TAO, can you ascertain the course for Sierra One Hundred Sixty-Eight?”
Bryan turned around after a few seconds. “She’s on a direct collision course with Master One, ma’am.”
Yes. The flagship. That would make sense. A shiver went down Tehrani’s spine. Irvine had gone after the enemy dreadnought at the center of their formation, but it had decimated her attack force. The destroyer must’ve been disabled in that attack. And now a group of brave men and women plan to finish the job, no matter the cost.
“Conn, Communications. Flash traffic from General Irvine. She requests any vessels able to provide cover fire for Sierra One Hundred Sixty-Eight do so immediately.”
Tehrani made eye contact with Singh. “Send to commander, CSV Salamis… Godspeed, and may Allah take you into paradise.”
“Aye, aye, ma’am.”
“Conn, TAO. LIDAR effects… aspect change, new Lawrence drive wormholes opening.” Bryan’s tone changed to one of surprise. “Terran Coalition signature but not CDF. They look like armed merchant vessels, ma’am. New contacts are heading toward the nearest enemy vessels and powering up their weapons.”
“God help ’em. Freighters, I don’t care how up-gunned they are, aren’t designed for fleet combat,” Wright whispered. “That takes some guts.”
“Too many heroes,” Tehrani replied softly. “May we remember them.”
“I’ll settle for God helping us blow these assholes to hell.” Wright crossed his arms. “Apologies for the language, ma’am.”
For once, Tehrani couldn’t agree more. The battle continued.
15
Amid a stream of blue neutron cannon bolts, the League fighter directly ahead of Justin’s craft exploded in a bright-orange ball of flame. Debris no bigger than a standard tablet spread out and, as he zoomed through the cloud, smacked into his Sabre. It sounded like a heavy rain coming down on an alloy roof. Justin scanned his HUD, searching for his next target. It had been like that the entire battle, one tail-turning dogfight after another. “Alpha One, splash one bandit.”
“Alpha Two, splash one,” Feldstein called. She’d broken off to engage a flight of League heavy bombers, and all the Alpha-element pilots were using the dumb-fire-rocket trick first discovered by Adeoye—which was great, at least while the pods lasted.
The personal victories couldn’t mask the overall situation of the fleet, however. Justin kept fighting like a man possessed, but it did little to alter the battle on a large scale. Ship after ship from the CDF side either exploded or was forced to jump out on an emergency basis—a risky proposition even a few minutes inside the Lawrence limit. The unlucky ones blew up anyway during the jump attempts.
In the distance, a single friendly contact accelerated blindly toward the League fleet—Sierra One Hundred Sixty-Eight. The vessel seemed to be in a sweet spot, too far away from the enemy escorts for them to catch up and too close for the massive battleship at the center of the formation to engage.
“Now, that takes some balls,” Whatley said.
“I wouldn’t want to be the commander of that destroyer,” Justin replied quietly. “There has to be a better way. A way to win and get to go home.”
“Not always, son. If you were watching carefully, you’d know Cohen ordered his crew to abandon ship. Pay attention, because that’s how a real officer deals with things like what we’re facing.”
The ultimate sacrifice. Justin, in the heat of the moment only a few hours before, had been willing to make it. But something was different about staging a last stand against the enemy and the inevitable death from ramming another warship. At least in his mind, Justin was still in control, even when fighting that last stand against incredible odds. He told himself that to make it feel better.
Another enemy fighter wandered into range of his forward HUD, and he rocked his Sabre toward it. “Alpha One, engaging hostile LIDAR spike, heading zero-eight-two, range fifty kilometers.”
As Justin hit his afterburner control and raced forward, Mateus fell into formation off his starboard side. The closer they got, the better resolution his fighter’s onboard sensor suite got, and what had initially appeared to be one fighter turned out to be a group of four. “Alpha Four, watch yourself. We’re outnumbered two to one.”
“Target-rich environment, Lieutenant,” Mateus crowed. “Just like I like it.”
“So you keep saying,” Justin mumbled.
The missile reticule on his HUD changed color, indicating that they were close enough to get a solid lock-on. After a few seconds, the tone buzzed. “Alpha One, fox three,” he called while simultaneously pressing the launch button. A Vulture raced away from his Sabre in target-acquisition mode. It took a moment for the warhead to track and explode against
