Do your squad mates proud, gentlemen. You’ve already earned my admiration.
48
Drone Operation Center, SAS Jamestown
Arradin System, Toavis
It was joy. Pure, unbridled, glorious, never-felt-before joy.
Tucked away in the safety of the drone fighter pod in the Drone Operation Center, Coda grinned as his drone belched fire and death, tearing through Baranyk fighters with reckless abandon. He zigged and zagged, through and around, above and below hordes of Baranyk fighters still taking part in the battle. Even after the destruction of the second Baranyk carrier, they showed no signs of giving up. Their carriers and the remaining vessels from the Sol Fleet duked it out about Toavis like heavyweight boxers trading haymakers. Hornet drones poured from the human carriers, assaulting the Baranyk carriers like swarms of angry bees.
Moscow was on his wing the entire time, mirroring Coda’s flight when Coda wasn’t mirroring his. Coda had spent so much time studying his former rival that Moscow’s flight strategy was as familiar as his own, and together, they created a true fighter pair. They cut through the Baranyk droves like a knife through water. Coda had already lost count of how many fighters he had shot down, but he was sure it was over twenty.
This is what the commander meant, Coda realized. This is what he meant when he said that a pilot needed to know everything about his wingmen. If the entire squadron was this comfortable with each other, nothing could stop us.
“Coda, you’ve got one on your tail. Drop negative-Z, twenty degrees, and loop right in three, two, one, break!”
Trusting Moscow completely, Coda dove below the battle plane and pulled his drone around in what would have been an excessive high-g maneuver capable of causing blackout. Separated from the stresses of spaceflight, Coda took out another pair of fighters while Moscow cleared his tail.
“Thank you,” Coda said, meaning every word. Though he was safely tucked away in the bowels of the Jamestown, they had expended their extra drones in the process of destroying the Baranyk carrier. If his drone was shot down, he would be out of the battle.
“Does that make us even?” Moscow said.
“Even?” Coda barked a laugh. “For that? Yeah, right! I saved your ass from becoming a new crater on Theseus. You’ve got a long way to go.”
“You never know ’til you ask.”
Coda laughed then squeezed off another burst, taking down two more fighters. Moscow’s drone appeared beside Coda’s, and together, they performed a gentle turn, bringing the heart of the battle into view. The remaining Baranyk carriers were flanked on both sides by their human counterparts, taking heavy fire. The various drone squadrons attacked in coordinated wave after coordinated wave.
“All Jamestown drone pilots, this is Captain Baez. You are to join ranks with the drone squadrons from the Virginia, Oregon, and Edmonton and focus all your efforts on the carrier assaulting the Toavis installation.”
A sudden, blinding explosion punctuated the captain’s words as another of the Baranyk carriers exploded.
Three down. How much longer will they hold out?
“Let’s go,” Coda said. “They’re on the run now.”
“Right behind you,” Moscow said.
Coda darted below the battle plane, plotting a course through the Toavis atmosphere toward the Baranyk carrier. He and Moscow flew with hundreds of Hornets, each on its own slightly different course. Having never flown in a proper Hornet squadron before, Coda and Moscow had fallen back to their Nighthawk training, flying as a fighter pair and leaving the formations to their counterparts.
Atmospheric flight was entirely different from space flight. It was slower, with more drag, and under the constant effect of gravity. In space, the drones could flip and reverse course in less time than it took to say the words, but atmospheric attacks were closer to bombing exercises—something they hadn’t been trained in.
We’ll have to make do.
Dropping his speed, Coda brought his drone behind the Jamestown’s Coyote Squadron and prepared for his attack run. The battle had been so thick with Baranyk fighters that he hadn’t needed to use his missiles and had instead relied heavily on his cannons. He flipped the switch on his stick to missiles then targeted multiple points along the Baranyk carrier’s length. Zooming into position, he squeezed, and two missiles launched away in rapid fire.
Coda spun, watching the missiles streak toward their mark. Accompanying them were hundreds of additional bands of white vapor cutting across the Toavis atmosphere, ending in explosions that tore into the organic Baranyk hull.
As a single unit, the Hornet drones looped around, preparing for their next run. Baranyk point-defense weapons cut through their ranks but not before more missiles found their target. More explosions tore through the hull. Some, Coda noticed, came from inside the ship. The Baranyk ship suddenly careened, smoke billowing from thousands of impact holes, and began to lose altitude.
“One more,” Coda said, digging himself deeper into his seat. “One more.”
And as if they could hear him, the drone squadron leaders brought their fighters around for a final pass. Coda, who only had two missiles remaining, targeted two more points on the Baranyk vessel and squeezed the trigger. His missiles joined ranks with another volley, and a moment later, a terrible explosion lit up the Toavis sky.
Boom. Coda watched as the Baranyk ship disintegrated, falling to the planet’s surface. It was a beautiful sight.
“Jamestown pilots, this is Captain Baez. It’s time to come home. The remaining Baranyk carriers are bugging out.”
Cheers echoed across the line and through the Drone Operation Center. Coda added his to the mix.
49
Drone Operation Center, SAS Jamestown
Arradin System, Toavis
Coda removed his helmet and placed it on the hook inside the drone operation pod. The Drone Operation Center vibrated with the sounds of pilots cheering. There were screams and hoots, trash talk, and hugging. Victory
