The Greengold shuddered from another series of hits.
“TAO, who’s shooting at us?”
“Master Four Hundred Thirty-Six, ma’am. Enemy destroyer, and it’s coming about for another pass.”
On the plot, Tehrani quickly found the enemy along with two frigates maneuvering aggressively. “Firing-point procedures, Master Four Hundred Thirty-Six, forward neutron beams.”
“Firing solutions set, ma’am.”
“TAO, tag Master Four Hundred Twenty-Eight and request Delta element engage as she approaches us. ” Tehrani grinned fiercely. “We’ll see how many times they’ll fall for that particular trick.”
“Aye, aye, ma’am,” Bryan replied with levity in his voice—the sound of a man who had hope he would live to see another day.
Wright leaned in. “Bad news, Colonel. Damage-control parties report multiple hours to get our PD guns back online. One’s completely gone, while the other is suffering from a severed power conduit.”
“We must make do,” Tehrani replied. Her heart sank. At any moment, the Leaguers would realize how badly her ship was wounded and concentrate everything they had on the port quarter. I owe it to my crew not to sacrifice them in a meaningless gesture. “Run a Lawrence drive calculation to put us across the system, closer to Canaan and inside the Lawrence limit,” she whispered.
“Shouldn’t the navigator do that, ma’am?” Wright replied equally quietly. “I’m rusty enough that I might put us into the sun.”
Tehrani chuckled. “No, I don’t want to alarm the crew. Just in case we have to bug out quickly.”
“Aye, aye, ma’am.” Wright turned and bent over his tablet, hard at work on the equations.
“Conn, Communications,” Singh called. “Flash traffic from CSV Victory, ma’am. Vidlink is active.”
“Put it on my viewer, Lieutenant.”
“Aye, aye, ma’am.”
The screen above Tehrani’s head sprang to life with an image of General Irvine. Her face was harried, and dark circles were visible under her eyes. “Attention, all CDF forces. The enemy’s flagship has been disabled and, with it, their command-and-control structure. Our reinforcements are minutes away, but victory is still far from certain. Engage the enemy at all points of attack and don’t hold back. We must press them and send them on the run. You’ve all fought bravely and valiantly. Continue to do your duty, and we will prevail! I will see you all at the victory celebration. Good hunting and Godspeed.”
“I wish we knew how long we had to hold,” Wright groused. “But it’s good to hear the American and the British space navies are on the way.”
“The CDF should never have disbanded and downsized the way it did,” Tehrani said. “That decision was short-sighted.” She glanced at the tactical plot and noted that the League destroyer she was tracking was almost in range. “TAO, reconfirm firing solution for Master Four Hundred Thirty-Six.”
“Firing solution set and confirmed, ma’am.”
The League vessels flew into firing range, loosing a barrage of the ubiquitous red plasma balls. The view through the Zvika Greengold’s windows filled with the glow from the enemy weapons, while the Greengold’s point-defense systems—those still working, anyway—blazed away at incoming missiles. Delta element sent three anti-ship missiles at the hapless destroyer, pummeling her shields to less than ten percent.
Tehrani grinned. “TAO, match bearings, shoot, forward neutron beams.”
Two blue spears of solid energy shot out from the bow of the Greengold and first depleted what was left of the League vessel’s deflector screens. For a split second, the enemy’s shields held with a red skid effect visible. Then they were gone. Because of the positioning of the two ships, the neutron beams speared the destroyer from bow to stern, punching a hole clean through the thin hull. Moments later, it exploded in a flash of orange-and-blue flame, with nothing left to prove it had ever existed except one-meter-long chunks of debris.
“I would again remind you that CDF tactical doctrine states that carriers are to stay back, out of a direct ship-to-ship engagement,” Wright said and laughed. “The way you’re going, ma’am, we’re going to get awarded a battle star.”
“Desperate times, desperate measures, XO.” Tehrani set her eyes back to the tactical plot, searching for the next target. She had many to choose from.
16
“Beta three declaring an emergency. Mayday, mayday, mayday. I’m punching out,” someone calmly stated.
Justin winced. That made three pilots from his squadron with a total loss of craft and an unknown number of them killed in action. They were down to eight combat-effective fighters. All around the Red Tails, debris from destroyed Leaguers filled the void. We’ve fought a good fight. He maneuvered through space as he did the mental mathematics to plot a course to bring his Sabre behind the enemy displayed on the HUD.
“Any word on those reinforcements, CAG?” Feldstein asked.
“What do I look like? A prophet? They’ll get here when they get here,” Whatley groused. “Until then, keep killing the bastards.”
“Wilco, sir.”
Justin laughed softly. I’d wager the major is having a blast over there. Some people were seemingly made from steel. Whatley was one of them.
The calculations Justin had made appeared to work, as his Saber glided behind the enemy he was tracking. To his surprise, he was close enough for a guns solution, and he held down the firing trigger. Dozens of blue neutron-cannon bolts flew into the hostile craft, and it exploded violently. “Alpha One, splash one.”
Another League fighter exploded to his left. “Alpha Two, splash one,” Feldstein said tightly. “Two more in this group.”
I’m down to my last heat-seeking missile. Justin quickly toggled through his stores, having lost count during the nonstop fighting. He only had one warhead left. He’d expended all active LIDAR trackers and dumb-fire rockets. Better make it count.
His craft shuddered from a volley of hits, and Justin slowed his Sabre dramatically. The enemy overshot. Time seemed to slow as he pressed the missile-launch button while holding down the firing trigger for his energy weapons.
The enemy craft blew apart, and its debris cloud struck his cockpit canopy with a series of short metallic impacts that sounded like rain hitting a tin roof.
Adeoye’s voice filled the commlink. “Alpha Three, splash one.”
Justin didn’t even bother to call out his
