“What is that?”
“That, Lieutenant Feldstein, is an SF-79 Boar,” Major Gabriel Whatley replied with a bemused smirk. “Hero of the Saurian Wars.”
“How so, sir?” Justin asked.
“The Saurians threw squadron after squadron of heavily armored bombers at us. While our front-line space-superiority fighters were well suited for mixing it up with other space-superiority fighters, they sucked at getting slow and sitting behind a bomber, shooting it full of holes until it blew up. Especially when the Saurians wised up and installed aft turrets.”
Mateus appeared from behind a group of pilots. “It sounds to me like you saw this in person, Major,” she said overly sweetly. “Did you fly one yourself in the ancient times?”
“I was flying a Boar in training when you were still in diapers, Lieutenant.”
Everyone in earshot broke out laughing. “Oooh. He got you there, Mateus.” Justin slapped her on the back. “Keep trying. One of these days, someone will lay a glove on the CAG.”
“When I’m dead,” Whatley replied in a gruff but good-natured voice.
Another wave of chuckles swept through the pilots as Boar after Boar landed on the deck. Unlike the Sabres and the Maulers, the Boars lacked wraparound cockpit canopies, and instead, they had a small transparent alloy window at the front. Directly under it, each nose had a brightly colored piece of art painted on it. Most resembled the face of a tiger or a shark with large teeth around the barrel of the integrated rapid-fire magnetic cannon.
Justin felt impressed by the precision of those flying the squat little fighters. The last one of twelve touched down, and small doors on the side of each craft opened in unison. I guess they planned it. Cute. Clad in flight suits, the pilots exited their vehicles and lined up in a neat row.
A woman stepped forward and removed her flight helmet. “First Lieutenant Adrianne Green reports as ordered, sir.”
“At ease, Lieutenant.” Whatley extended his arm toward her. “Welcome aboard the CSV Zvika Greengold, your new home away from home.”
Green smiled. “Glad to be here, sir.” She glanced at the rest of the pilot cadre. “Who’s got the most kills on this ship?”
“Lieutenant Spencer, currently. Twenty-six, counting assists,” Whatley replied.
Her eyes widened. “Not bad. I’ll still beat you,” Green said. She turned back to Whatley. “Permission for the Black Hogs to come aboard, sir?”
“Granted. Spencer will show you to your quarters and give your pilots the nickel tour. We depart tomorrow morning for the combat zone.”
“Of course, sir. We’re ready to go.” Green smirked. “Positively looking forward to blowing some Leaguers out of space.”
“You’ve come to the right place,” Justin said. He crossed his arms. “The Greengold has a reputation for being in the right place at the right time.” Green’s demeanor made him bristle. Her tone came off as smug and superior. I’m probably making a mountain out of a molehill. Still, he was protective of his squad. They’d earned their stripes, and anyone else would have to earn bragging rights too.
“Oh, really?” Green replied, her tone caustic. “I’m sure we’ll be able to significantly enhance that reputation, then.”
“Leave it on the battlefield,” Whatley interjected gruffly before more comments could be made. “Lieutenant Spencer, I believe I gave you a direct order to show the Black Hogs around. Do so now.”
“Yes, sir,” Spencer replied as he came to attention. Some things don’t change. Whatley’s one of them. He gestured to the double hatch back to the passageway. “Lieutenant, after you.”
Green strode forward without another word.
“Oh, goody. I don’t think this carrier’s big enough for three squadron commanders with big egos,” Feldstein whispered into Justin’s ear.
He turned and rolled his eyes at her. “I don’t have a big ego.”
“Keep telling yourself that, flyboy.”
“Just remember, the last sound the Leaguers will hear is brrrrrrt,” Green called. She turned her head back and grinned.
“There’s no sound in space,” Justin replied. He set his jaw and steeled himself for the hour to come.
Colonel Banu Tehrani strode into her day cabin on the Zvika Greengold with a few minutes to spare. Situated directly aft of the bridge, it contained her office as well as a small bunk for sleeping near the CIC during battle or other critical situations in which she couldn’t be fifteen minutes away in the bowels of the vessel. Tehrani commanded the Greengold and its associated battlegroup. She was on her last tour of duty and had planned to retire in six months. Funny how things change so quickly.
As she sat in her chair, the chime on the hatch buzzed. “Come in!”
The hatch swung open, and a tall, dark-skinned man with short hair, wearing a CDF khaki service uniform, strode through. He came to attention before the desk. “Major Benjamin Wright reports as ordered, ma’am.”
Tehrani gestured. “Please, sit.”
He relaxed and dropped into the indicated seat. “Thank you, ma’am.”
“So. How are we today?”
“Ever heard the phrase ‘What has God wrought?’”
She shook her head. “I can’t say I have.”
“It’s something from school that had always stuck with me. The first message humans sent across a telegraph line, back in something like 1870.” Wright shook his head. “You know, ancient times.”
Tehrani laughed. “The Saurian Wars seem like ancient history, considering our technological advances.”
“Truth. Well. Anyway, I suppose I’m marveling a bit at how fast we got this ship ready to fight again. Engineering said it would take six weeks, but we’re as good as new at four.” Wright’s eyes twinkled. “I suspect that has more to do with our resident chief engineer padding his stats.”
“Perhaps,” Tehrani replied good-naturedly. For whatever reason, Wright and Hodges had a bit of a competition. It sometimes affected the ship's operation, but she was content to allow them their petty rivalry unless it did. “All systems go?”
“One hundred percent green across the board. We’ve got full stores, all weapons tested
