Tehrani immediately went into battle mode as all other considerations drained from her mind. “Communications, get me 1MC.”
“You’re on, ma’am.”
“Attention, all hands. This is your commanding officer. General quarters, general quarters. Man your battle stations. Set material condition one throughout the ship. This is not a drill. I say again, this is not a drill.”
As Tehrani spoke, the bridge lights dimmed and turned a deep blue while the alert klaxon blared.
Bryan called out from his station, “Conn, TAO. Material condition one set throughout the ship. Battle stations manned and ready.”
“Navigation, plot a Lawrence drive jump to the coordinates of the distress signal.” Tehrani glanced at Wright. “What’s on ready five?”
“Four Sabres from the Red Tails and four Boars, ma’am.” Wright tapped at the controls built into the XO’s chair. “I’m ordering up additional elements from the air boss.”
“Good.” Tehrani stared straight ahead. “TAO, raise shields and arm all point-defense weapons.”
“Aye, aye, ma’am. Shields up. Point-defense online.”
Tehrani avoided charging the energy capacitor, as she had no idea how far the jump would be. While Mitzner worked the Lawrence drive calculations, Tehrani took a moment. Allah, hear my prayer. Bless our efforts this day, and help us to rescue those who need our assistance while we destroy the evildoers.
“Conn, Navigation. Coordinates plotted. Ready to jump on your command.”
The report helped to focus all of Tehrani’s mental energy following the short prayer. “Communications, signal the Marcus Luttrell to follow us in and request support from all Battlegroup Z assets.”
“Aye, aye, ma’am,” Singh replied quickly.
“Navigation, activate the Lawrence drive.”
Directly in front of the Zvika Greengold and visible through the transparent alloy windows on the bridge, a spatial vortex began to form. As the lights dimmed, the rift grew, and an artificial wormhole burst into being. A kaleidoscope of blue, red, purple, and orange radiated out from it, and the ship accelerated into its maw. Seconds later, they emerged on the other side.
“Conn, TAO. Sensors coming online,” Bryan called a few moments after their arrival. “Hadley detected at eighteen hundred kilometers, ma’am. Designated as Sierra One. She’s venting atmosphere.” He paused, rechecking the board. “Two unknown vessels roughly the size of a corvette, designated Master One and Two, are engaging Sierra One. Numerous hostile small craft, ma’am.”
Tehrani’s eyes went to her tactical plot. A swarm of red dots surrounded the single blue icon. She zoomed in on Master One and Two, trying to determine from their silhouettes what they were. I’ve never seen anything like that before. They were similar in size and design to each other but different. It’s like someone took a small cargo hauler and tried to make a gunboat out of it. “TAO, charge the energy weapons capacitor. Navigation, intercept course, Sierra One. All ahead flank.”
“Whatcha thinking, Skipper?” Wright asked.
“Extend our shields around the freighter and engage the hostiles, and hopefully they’ll fall back.”
“And if not?”
“I detest bullies, Major. Get our fighters into space.” Tehrani grinned.
“Aye, aye, ma’am.”
“Communications…” Tehrani began as she turned to Singh. “Open a wide-spectrum channel. I want to talk to whoever’s flying those ships.”
“One moment, ma’am. You’re live.”
Tehrani set her jaw and stared directly at the camera for the bridge vidlink. “Attention, hostile vessels. I am Colonel Banu Tehrani of the Coalition Defense Force. You are in violation of Terran Coalition space. Cease fire and power down your weapons immediately, or we will destroy you. This is your final warning.”
“Conn, TAO. Master One and Two have locked weapons, ma’am. Multiple anti-ship missile launches detected.”
“So much for a peaceful resolution,” Tehrani replied. Part of her was glad for the opportunity to show the criminals they faced what happened when the forces of justice caught up with them. “TAO, firing point procedures, forward neutron beams, Master One.” As the closest enemy, they drew the short straw.
“Firing solutions set, ma’am. Thirty seconds to weapons range.”
Orders and counterorders were volleyed across the bridge. Tehrani maintained her singular focus on engaging the pirate ships as she stared at the tactical plot and willed the Greengold to move faster. They won’t escape.
“Launch, launch, launch!”
Justin didn’t need to be told twice. He punched the throttle of his SF-86 Sabre forward, and the fighter roared out of the hangar bay. The blackness of the void lay beyond, a momentarily beautiful sight before his HUD populated with enemy targets and the stricken freighter they hoped to save. The other three craft in his flight element registered right behind him. “Alpha, break to heading zero-six-two, max speed, and engage afterburners.”
“Wilco, sir,” Feldstein replied.
The kilometers rushed by as the four of them raced toward the enemy. Justin felt a gnawing in his stomach. Simple math suggested there was no way they’d make it in time.
Suddenly, twin blue spears of concentrated neutron beams reached out from the Zvika Greengold, smacking one of the hostile ships. Way to go, Colonel. The enemy's reaction was instantaneous—they broke off and headed toward the CDF forces at a high rate of speed.
“I don’t recognize this model of interceptor,” Adeoye said. “Do any of you?”
“Human built for sure,” Mateus replied. “Notice on the close-up scan image how it has a bubble canopy. I’d wager these are designs from Lusitania or one of the other prosperous non-Coalition colonies.”
Justin was impressed by the impromptu intelligence analysis. “Didn’t realize you’d transferred over to CIS, Lieutenant.” He let out a chuckle then directed his attention back to the sensor readout. Ten enemy fighters were on a direct intercept course. Against Leaguers, those weren’t horrible odds, but the incoming bandits' combat specifications were unknown. “Alpha flight, spike the closest bandits and stand by to release missiles. Once we put a volley into space, we’ll close rapidly to guns range and mix it up.” When overwhelmed, getting inside the enemy's missile-launch envelope tended to even the odds, depending on a pilot's training level.
“Wilco, sir,” Feldstein replied.
The missile-lock-on buzzer blared. Justin shifted his thumb and gently squeezed the launch button integrated into his
