3
“Conn, TAO. Port shields at forty-seven percent,” Bryan called. “Master Two and Three continue to focus their attacks on that quarter.”
From the CO’s chair, Tehrani split her gaze between her tactical display and the officers in front of her. They had four friendly space-superiority fighters, but those were of limited use against the enemy capital ships. Without bombers or the Zvika Greengold’s own escorts, the battle remained a losing proposition. If we didn’t have friendly fighters in the asteroid belt, I’d have already ordered a retreat. “Navigation, come to course two-one-zero. Roll the ship to present our dorsal deflectors to Master Two and Three.” Right now, I’m just buying time.
“Aye, aye, ma’am. Steady on course two-one-zero. Rolling the ship,” Second Lieutenant Leah Mitzner replied.
Weapons impacts continued to reverberate through the deck plating, though the Greengold tried to maneuver to avoid them. But a few seconds after engaging the turn, the shield capacity indicator on Tehrani’s display stopped its steady march to zero.
“Conn, Communications. Colonel, I’ve got Lieutenant Spencer on audio for you. His element is exiting the asteroid belt and is five minutes out.”
Tehrani perked up. Some welcome good news. She glanced at Wright. “About time. We can scoop up our pilots and get out of here, if nothing else.”
“Personally, I’m not interested in running from a fight,” Wright replied as he rubbed his arms. “We have to uphold our tradition of being in the right place at the right time, yeah?”
Instead of replying, Tehrani stared at her tactical plot and the blue dots representing the inbound flight of Sabres. “Communications, put Lieutenant Spencer on.”
“Aye, aye, ma’am.”
A moment later, Justin’s voice came through the speaker on Tehrani’s chair. “Colonel, we’re coming in at max thrust. What’re your orders?”
“Link up with Beta element and engage the enemy, Lieutenant. We’re scrambling bombers and additional fighters. If the Greengold gets too banged up, we’ll pull back.”
“Understood, ma’am. Spencer out.”
Tehrani had little time to continue to ponder her tactical options. Between outgoing neutron beams from the Zvika Greengold and incoming plasma balls, the usually dull void of space was a lively place. All the while, our shields keep taking a beating.
“Conn, TAO. Master Two shields have failed.”
“TAO, vector the friendly fast movers to attack Master Two’s weapons emplacements.”
“Aye, aye, ma’am.”
“Has anyone ever fired on a ship in space before?” Adeoye asked, the rich timbre of his voice filling the commlink.
“Once, at a shoot-ex during the Valiant Shield exercises,” Feldstein replied.
Justin listened to the banter, more focused on the battle ahead than idle chitchat. The scene on his HUD was nothing short of surreal—three moderately sized enemy warships engaged in a pitched battle with the Zvika Greengold. He swallowed. I picked a terrible week for my annual tour.
Their target, Master Two, loomed ominously. The vessel was oddly shaped, at least to his eye. Mostly black with red accent lighting, the enemy ship had two blocky turrets on its front hull, and both spewed red plasma balls. They make an excellent first target to me. “Alpha flight, link into my target package.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” Feldstein said. “Taking out the turrets first?”
“If you have a better idea, I’m all ears, Lieutenant,” Justin replied. He left out his concern that the anti-fighter missiles the Sabres carried might not be strong enough to penetrate whatever armor plating the enemy had.
“That’s a negative, sir.”
“Stand by for max range.” Justin rotated his fighter’s trajectory slightly and toggled his laser designator pod on. “Alpha One, playing the music.”
“I’ve got a good lock,” Adeoye interjected.
The missile-lock-on tone sounded in Justin’s cockpit, and he immediately pressed the missile-launch button. “Alpha One, fox three.”
A LIDAR-guided missile dropped from the underside of his fighter, and a split second later, its engine fired, sending it toward the target. The rest of his element fired, with four blue icons representing the inbound warheads populating his HUD.
“Follow our birds in and engage with energy weapons, Alpha flight.”
Each pilot responded with their confirmation of Justin’s orders, leaving him to make microadjustments to his approach in order to avoid taking down friendly missiles with his miniature neutron cannons. He squeezed the trigger on his flight stick, sending dozens of blue bolts through the void.
The fusillade from the small fighters blasted through space, and all four missiles struck home. They impacted directly on the turret’s housing, exploding with brief flashes of red flame. The target remained, though dozens of neutron cannon bolts slammed into the same area.
“Alpha, break off and circle back for another pass,” Justin said.
As he jinked his craft around and sped up, enemy point-defense fire found him. His aft shields dropped like a stone, going from ninety percent charge to twenty in a few seconds. “Watch out for that AAA fire!”
He punched the afterburners, and the g-force wore through his Sabre’s inertial dampers and pressed him firmly back in the pilot’s seat. It took a few more seconds to escape the deadly barrage. Justin let out a breath and calmed his nerves once more.
“That’s some nasty point defense those ships are sporting,” Feldstein commented. “I’ve got a couple of hits on my aft stabilizer. Nothing I can’t compensate for, though.”
As Justin looped his fighter around, he lined up for another attack run. A glance at his HUD confirmed the rest of Alpha had followed suit. “This time, Alpha Two, break right with me. Three and Four, break left. We’ll try to divide their fire.”
“Roger that, sir,” Adeoye replied.
The missile-lock-on tone sounded, and Justin pressed the button to launch another Vulture missile toward their target. It barreled away, and much like his last attack run, he lined up to send a stream of blue energy at the turret. That time, the volley had the desired effect. As all four warheads impacted, the weapons mount on the hull buckled then blew apart in a dazzling display of red-tinted plasma flow. Incoming point-defense fire noticeably decreased as the element of fighters rocketed away. Maybe we hit something vital.
“Ordnance check. Next pass, we’ll hit the other turret.”
A flash of light
