Justin selected the EMP warhead in his HUD and toggled the manual-launch option. As he threw off his pursuers with random course changes, he toggled the commlink to active. “Hey, Leaguers. The Terran Coalition sends its regards.” The next moment, he pressed the launch button.
The EMP warhead, encased in a standard CDF Starbolt anti-ship missile, dropped away from Justin’s fighter, and its gel-fuel motor came to life. It accelerated away as he turned directly toward the closest enemy craft and opened up with the fore-mounted plasma cannons.
Perhaps the League pilots were shocked or startled by his transmission or the sudden tactic change. Whatever the reason, they froze, which was all the opening Justin needed. He poured on the fire, shredding the shields of the fighter and blasting apart its hull. After a brief flash of orange, no trace remained of the craft.
The rest of the five Leaguers all loosed missiles at Justin, a mixture of LIDAR-tracking and heat-seeking variants. They closed in from all sides, leaving Justin with little avenue for escape or evasion. I guess this is it. I just have to hang on long enough to get a message out once the EMP goes off. Determined to go down fighting until the bitter end, he dropped chaff and flares then pushed his flight stick down relative to the Z-axis. A couple of the inbound warheads took the decoys, but two pressed on.
Out of nowhere, a blinding flash of light came. The EMP! The shockwave raced across the void, and while it didn’t harm the shielded fighters, the missiles in flight weren’t so lucky. They all shut down, with their electronic circuitry fried.
Justin hadn’t expected that stroke of luck. He quickly triggered the burst transmission then turned his craft toward the nearest Leaguer. Perhaps I can take one down and even the odds before they realize what happened. Justin gripped the flight stick tightly. He would try with everything he had.
16
On the bridge of the Zvika Greengold, Tehrani sat in the CO’s chair, eyes locked onto her tactical readout. Battle stations were manned and ready, and the area was bathed in the blue light of condition one. She’d configured the display to show a raw sensor readout along with their shield- and hull-integrity status. So far, the readout was completely blank. Precisely what I would expect and hope for. They were more than thirty minutes overdue for a check-in by the Astute. Dread gripped her chest as she pondered what to do next. Spencer’s the best pilot aboard, except for the CAG. If anyone can pull it off, he can. With some help from Allah, that is. The infusion of such overtly religious thoughts was still a shock.
“Conn, Communications,” Singh said, interrupting her ruminations. “We’ve got flash traffic from CSV Astute. Lieutenant Spencer successfully deployed the EMP.”
A few scattered shouts and cheers went up from the enlisted ratings, and Tehrani shared knowing smiles with Wright.
“Navigation, reconfirm Lawrence drive jump coordinates.”
“Triple-checked, ma’am. We’re good,” Mitzner replied.
Tehrani looked at Singh. “Communications, tie 1MC into my intercom link.”
“You’re live for 1MC, ma’am.”
“Attention, all hands. This is your commanding officer,” Tehrani said into her chair-mounted microphone. “We’ve been at war for the last six weeks, and I couldn’t be happier with the performance of every soldier on the Zvika Greengold.” She smiled as pride welled within her. “Today, we’re doing something that all of you have wanted from the first day of the war, once that initial shock faded. We’re taking the fight to the League of Sol. Thanks to incredible heroism from our pilots and the hand of God, the Greengold will momentarily jump for what I believe is the first offensive action of the war. The fight will be fierce, and it will be hard, and we will take losses. But I know the League will be defeated today. Man your posts, and do your duty, and no matter the odds, we will prevail.” Her volume had increased to nearly a shout by the end of the impromptu speech.
Enlisted ratings and officers alike applauded and cheered as the 1MC clicked off.
In the back of the bridge, someone shouted, “No matter the odds!”
The chant was immediately taken up by the rest of the crewmembers present and quickly grew to a roar.
Tehrani held up her right hand and made a fist. “Let’s make the Leaguers hear us. Focus on your stations, ladies and gentlemen.” The tumult immediately ceased. “Navigation, engage Lawrence drive. All ahead flank.”
“Aye, aye, ma’am,” Mitzner replied.
Outside of the windows at the front of the bridge, space started rippling. The lights dimmed as the powerful FTL drive opened a hole through the void between two points light-years away from each other. The ripple turned into a kaleidoscope of colors, and the wormhole came into being. The Greengold accelerated toward it and flew through. Transmit was momentary, but the walls of the artificial construct made for an eerie display of color and light, bending in ways that were beautiful and mesmerizing at the same time.
Then they were out. The ship emerged into normal space, and the wormhole disappeared in a flash. Tehrani gripped the sides of her chair. Are we in the right place? The next few seconds were nail-biters as the Greengold’s systems came back online.
“Conn, Navigation. Emergence location confirmed. We’re exactly where we’re supposed to be.”
“Conn, TAO. Shields and point defense active. Sensors coming up. One space installation designated Master One, consistent with League of Sol energy signature. One Lancer-class frigate, designated Master Two. I show five League fighters, four of which are attacking the fifth.” Bryan turned around. “Master One is disabled, ma’am.”
“Son of a… Spencer pulled it off, and he’s still alive,” Wright interjected.
Tehrani felt amazed, then she jolted back into reality. “XO, signal the air boss to launch the Red Tails squadron along with one element of Maulers and Boars each.”
“Aye,
