A few moments later, the icon for the enemy vessel disappeared, leaving only the largest ship on the battlefield. Again and again, the escorts and bombers lashed out with every weapon at their disposal. It took several volleys to batter down the vessel’s shields, but once they did, explosions erupted across its hull.
“Conn, TAO. Master Four is attempting to jump out,” Bryan said as he turned around in his chair. “They’re not going to make it. Sensors show runaway exotic-particle release.”
His words were prophetic. Through the transparent alloy windows, a massive orange explosion suddenly came into view.
“Conn, TAO. Master Four has been destroyed. All enemy fighters neutralized. We’re clear.” Bryan used a soft tone, and his words were measured.
“Damage report, XO?” Tehrani asked, tilting her head slightly.
“One moment, ma’am.” Wright quickly scanned several screens of information. “Hull damage, deck eight. Two lost to the void. Several dozen wounded and light damage to the landing bays.” He pursed his lips. “All systems combat operational.”
With the sudden danger of combat passed, Tehrani’s mind found the space it needed to consider the human cost. I’ve never lost a crewman under my command before. She forced herself not to show emotion on the bridge. “Fast-mover losses?”
“Two Sabres lost, ma’am. Strong signal off one escape pod… the other pilot didn’t make it.”
Wright’s words hung over the bridge and Tehrani’s head. “Deploy search and rescue. Bring our pilot in and see if anyone is left alive in any of the enemy’s wreckage. Keep our CSP out in force… and, Communications, find CDF command. We’ve got to alert them to what’s going on.” The last part, she said for the benefit of the bridge team, as anxious stares and worried expressions had replaced the frantic pace of combat.
“Aye, aye, ma’am.”
Tehrani sat back in her chair, mentally running through the combat evolution. One thing was for sure—her ship and crew had performed remarkably well for never having engaged in actual combat. We lived up to our name today. Despite everything else, that thought brought a smile to her face.
4
Two hours later, after search-and-rescue operations concluded and the escape pod of Second Lieutenant Al-Mufti was recovered, Justin and his Alpha element were the last four fighters to touch down on the hangar deck of the Zvika Greengold. The carrier had two primary bays, with the one nearest the bridge tower configured for recovery and the other set up for launch. Automated landing systems took control of his Sabre as he closed within five hundred meters of the ship. His ship came to rest near the large CVE-73 marking in the center of the flight deck. The moment his cockpit canopy opened, Justin sprang up, and the crew chief rolled a ladder over for him to climb down.
“How about that—we’re all aces!” Mateus called from across the hangar. She was still wearing her full flight suit, minus the helmet, and the flag of the Republic of Brasilia was displayed on the left shoulder of her uniform. She strode over quickly. “I can’t believe it, Spencer. We’re all alive too.”
“Not all of us,” Justin replied. “Al-Mufti didn’t make it back.”
“It was still a good day.” Mateus stretched her neck. “Feldstein and Adeoye are waiting in the ready room. Debriefing starts in thirty minutes, Major Whatley’s orders.”
Justin nodded. “I’ll be there.”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m waiting for shock to set in.” He furrowed his brow. “It’s weird to describe, but in the moment, flying that fighter through space, pulling thirteen Gs, and fighting for my life…”
“Exhilarating?” Mateus rocked from foot to foot. “I’ve felt nothing like it before.”
“Not quite the word I’d use.”
She slapped him on the shoulder. “It’s the Portuguese half of me.” Mateus winked. “I’ll see you around.”
“In thirty minutes,” Justin replied and watched her walk away.
He mentally steeled himself for the debriefing while pondering what was going to happen next. All around him, the deck crew busied themselves with preparing the two squadrons of fighters and bombers for space combat once more. The Thane-class escort carriers only had three squadrons—thirty-six small craft in total—embarked. To see everything the ship carried being readied for action was a jarring sight in what had been, until an hour ago, peacetime.
Maybe I have enough time to get a message to my wife. He set off for his cabin to try. All the while, he ran the question of who they were fighting through his head. While it made little sense, Justin had the feeling the designs he’d seen were human built. But what humans would attack the Terran Coalition?
“Conn, Communications. Flash traffic from CDF command, ma’am.”
Singh’s voice interrupted Tehrani’s mental considerations as she stared at a list of stores—munitions, food, and consumables such as oxygen and water—and found it woefully inadequate for combat. She glanced up at him. “Route to my viewer, Lieutenant.”
“Aye, aye, ma’am.”
Several seconds later, a security challenge appeared on her chair-mounted screen, to which she pressed her finger into a biometric scanner. After it had confirmed her identity, a message—text only—appeared on the panel. Reading halfway through it, Tehrani sucked in a breath. “This communique is six hours old. Why did we just receive it?”
“Jamming, ma’am. There’s still long-range communication issues, but taking out those enemy ships”—he shrugged—“seemed to reduce the amount of interference.”
“Colonel?” Wright asked. His eyes narrowed, and his face was taut. Stress leaked from behind his facade of professionalism. “What’s it say?”
“We are at war.” The words fell out of Tehrani’s mouth like a hammer.
Enlisted ratings stole glances at each other, while the officers openly stared at their commanding officer.
She forced down the bile rising from her stomach. “An unknown enemy has appeared within the Terran Coalition’s borders and is pushing steadily toward Canaan.” Our home world. Whoever they are, they know what they’re doing.
“We should address the crew,” Wright whispered as he leaned in. “Let them know what’s going on.”
Tehrani nodded and punched a button to enable the ship-wide intercom, also known as 1MC. Fear crept into her heart. Whatever I feel,
