focused all of their effort on the larger capital ship. Seeing the larger vessel up close, Commander Coleman understood why. Gaping holes littered its hull, spewing fire along its length, and fewer than half of its point-defense cannons still appeared operable. The ship was a wounded bird, and the enemy knew it.

“All fighters,” Commander Coleman said, “focus on the main contingent. The Washington doesn’t have long.”

Coleman squeezed off several more shots, eliminating three more fighters as the rest of his squadron arrived. Two flights, one beginning at the Washington’s bow, the other at the stern, sliced through the enemy like a propeller through water. They mowed down more than half of the enemy’s force in a single pass.

The remaining Baranyk fighters broke into two flights of their own as if finally taking the human force seriously. But it was already too late. The next wave of human pilots arrived, flanking them from the Washington port side and using it as a backstop. The Forgotten had the remaining Baranyk fighters in a vise, and within moments, they were no more.

Bringing his fighter around, Coleman surveyed the battle. The Washington was still engaged with the Baranyk carrier, each ship throwing volley after volley of torpedoes and medium-range artillery at their enemy. In the distance and partially hidden by the curvature of Toavis, the Virginia, Oregon, and other three human battle cruisers were involved in a similar slugfest with all but one of the remaining Baranyk carriers. The last one was somewhere below the planet’s thick atmosphere.

Come on, Baez. Get the Jamestown into the battle. We won’t have numbers for long.

The human squadron had provided much-needed support and had bought the Washington some extra time, but the battle was far from over. And now the enemy knew the human fleet had an advantage of its own. But as severely outnumbered as the human pilots were, would the advantage be enough?

“All fighters form up and prepare for an attack run.”

They hadn’t gotten to the point in their training that would have focused on bombing runs. As a result, Coleman hadn’t ordered the Nighthawks equipped with the heavier artillery used to assault the Baranyk carriers. They’d have to do the job with missiles… and a little bit of luck.

“Two missiles apiece. The Washington has done a number on her. We don’t need to exhaust our reserves.”

Coleman triple-checked that his weapons switch was selected to missiles, then with his pilots forming up behind him, he angled his Nighthawk on a flight path that would have them streak past the center of the enemy carrier in a high-speed pass. The Baranyk carrier, perhaps sensing the danger, shifted focus from the Washington to the Forgotten. Point-defense cannons lit up their flight path.

“Evasive maneuvers!” Coleman shouted, throwing his fighter starboard to avoid a stream of incoming projectiles. “And fire!”

Trails of white vapor streaked from the quick-moving fighters toward the massive ship, then a moment later, more than twenty explosions ravaged its hull. Not three seconds after the last explosion lit the void, white-hot fire ballooned out of the center of the Baranyk vessel, splitting it in two and throwing the two ends of the ship in opposite directions. Cheers sounded over the comm as the pilots celebrated their victory.

“Well done,” Coleman said. “Prepare for delta formations. We’re not done yet. There’s still five more of these bastards to go.”

43

Ready Room, SAS Jamestown

Arradin System, Toavis

Coda sat alone in the ready room, bathing in the battle’s radio chatter. He hadn’t found a way to tap into the holographic display that they had in the CIC, but he had found a way to pipe into the radio frequencies and play it across the ready room’s speakers. It wasn’t the same as being in the battle. It wasn’t even the same as watching it, but it was the best he had been able to come up with.

He listened with bated breath, often having to remind himself to breathe at all. There had been some panicked chatter at the beginning of the battle then mostly silence as the pilots focused on the task at hand. Now, though, it was beginning again.

“Jamestown actual, this is Commander Coleman. Were you able to identify the source of the Baranyk signal?”

“We have, Commander,” Captain Baez said. “Sending you the information now. What do you have in mind?”

“With their fighters, they’ve still got us outnumbered out here,” Commander Coleman said. “If we can eliminate the weapon, we eliminate the signal. Then we get full use of our drones and the odds swing back into our favor.”

“As long as one of their other ships isn’t equipped with the weapon,” Captain Baez said.

“Yes,” Commander Coleman said. “As long as none of the others are equipped with the weapon.”

Coda could almost hear the two men thinking. How much would it cost them to assault one of the Baranyk carriers? Was it worth the risk?

“Make it happen, Commander. The Washington and Jamestown will provide cover.”

“Copy that, sir,” Commander Coleman said. “Form up. Our job is to distract the enemy and provide aid for the Oregon until the Jamestown and Washington can arrive. Our target is this Baranyk carrier.” He must have identified the carrier in question and sent it directly to their onboard computers. “According to the Jamestown, this is the ship with the weapon that renders our drones inoperable. We destroy it, and we turn this battle in our favor. Any questions?”

There weren’t any.

“All right. Let’s do this.”

Coda leaned forward in his seat. Something told him that the next battle wouldn’t go as smoothly as the last. From the sound of things, the Baranyk hadn’t thought the new human fighters were much of a threat, but they wouldn’t make that mistake a second time.

Come on, guys. You can do this.

So focused on the sounds of the battle, Coda almost didn’t hear the door to the ready room slide open. Moscow stepped inside then, spotting Coda, froze. He clearly hadn’t expected company.

“Here they come,” Commander Coleman said over the speakers. “Forty contacts,

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