As Justin careened toward the enemy with his wingmen, the ten bandits heading toward them loosed their own anti-fighter missiles. Alpha added another salvo into the mix, and electronic countermeasure systems from both sides went to work. As the Boars in Gamma element were a couple of minutes behind, they hadn’t ranged on the hostiles quite yet.
Two inbound warheads headed straight toward Justin’s Sabre, apparently unaffected by the ECM pod each fighter carried. That’s different. He rolled away, engaging his afterburner while dropping several pods of chaff. Around him, the other members of Alpha did as well. It registered with him that the incoming was far more accurate than League tech. While one missile took the chaff and exploded harmlessly, the other tracked him relentlessly before slamming into the aft shields of his craft.
“Whoever these guys are, they know what they’re doing,” Feldstein said, her voice cracking from interference on the commlink.
Justin gritted his teeth. “As Mateus puts it, a target-rich environment.”
“I like a challenge,” Mateus replied. “Leaguers get boring after a while.”
“Stay focused.” Justin picked one of the fighters out and goosed his Sabre toward an intercept vector. Not bothering with another Vulture, he switched to Eagle heat-seeking missiles instead. As Justin swung in behind the bandit, he sent a wave of miniature-neutron-cannon bolts into its aft shield.
The hostile’s shields collapsed from the fusillade, and flecks of armor melted off around engine exhausts—the result of Justin’s continued bombardment. As he was about to send an Eagle into the maelstrom, four missiles erupted from the bandit. Justin watched in shock as they all reversed course and headed straight toward him. Oh shit.
Justin pulled back hard on his flight stick with lightning-fast reflexes while simultaneously triggering the chaff dispenser and dropping six pods into the void. LIDAR trackers with cone lock-on reversal tech? The CDF had such technology, and it was in wide use across their space-superiority fighter forces, but to his knowledge, it was tightly restricted. How’d pirates get their hands on gear this good? They’re always two generations behind, using common civilian models.
Two of the inbound warheads took the bait and exploded among the chaff pods, while the others pressed on. Justin kicked up his afterburner and got every ounce of speed the Sabre had in it, dodging and juking to throw off the missiles. One ran out of fuel and blew up, but the last tracked him move for move and smacked his aft shield, knocking the single-seat fighter into a spin.
G-forces bit at Justin as the Sabre spun around and around before he was able to force his hand to the throttle and hit the afterburner activator, which required affirmative control. The spin evened out, and the craft rocketed away.
That was too damn close. Justin scanned his HUD, trying to locate the enemy he’d been so close to destroying.
“Alpha Three to any friendlies. I’ve got a bandit on my tail.” Adeoye’s voice crackled through the commlink.
Justin quickly located him, and the heavy fighter doggedly matched each move of Adeoye’s Sabre. “Alpha Three, break left and accelerate. I’m coming in hot.”
“Wilco, sir.”
It took a moment for Justin to line up the hostile craft in his forward cone and shift his finger to the missile-launch button. “Alpha One, fox two,” he called the second the lock-on tone buzzed.
Two Vultures dropped from the internal stores bay on Justin’s Sabre and raced away into the void. “Alpha One to Alpha Three. Adjust heading ten degrees left relative and increase declination by twenty-five degrees.”
“Wilco, sir,” Adeoye replied.
The movement of Adeoye’s Sabre led him downward and cleared a path for Justin. He squeezed the trigger on his miniature neutron cannons, sending bolt after bolt of blue death toward the enemy as the HUD-mounted targeting reticle turned green. Both of his missiles hit the bandit in quick succession while the enemy was too focused on his tail-chase with Adeoye to avoid the stream of neutrons. After a cascade of hits, the fighter exploded in a bright-orange ball of flame that extinguished itself as it consumed the available oxygen of the craft’s life-support system. “Alpha One, splash one.”
“Thank you, sir,” Adeoye said as he uttered a sigh of relief.
“I’m sorry,” Mateus interjected. “Got hung up on a bandit. Thanks for taking care of him for me.”
“Don’t go getting soft on us now, Lieutenant,” Justin replied as he felt a lump in his throat. The knowledge that they were all a moment from death loomed large. He searched for another target in the HUD. “Look alive, people. There’s still a lot of bandits left out here.” Too many.
Purple and red streaks rushed by Justin’s cockpit canopy as the two corvettes switched targets from the freighter to the Greengold. He marveled at the energy readings being put off by the two vessels. I’d expect to see that kind of firepower on a destroyer, not some pirate ship. A blinking warning indicated a new wormhole opening within the battle space. Justin held his breath as the onboard sensors took a few moments to ID the new contact. A blue icon appeared a few thousand kilometers away. Thank God, it’s the Marcus Luttrell. He continued to focus on eliminating the bandits swarming around them.
Tehrani held on to the sides of her chair as the Greengold rocked from enemy fire. At least the two converted corvettes, as she’d taken to calling them, had switched targets. Unfortunately, their target is now us. Blue light bathed the bridge, supposedly calming nerves and helping the crew work their consoles.
“Those little ships pack quite a punch,” Wright said as he glanced at her. “I’m detecting xasers and meson-based weaponry.”
“Matrinid tech?” Directed muons were a hallmark of directed-energy weapons used by their former allies. “They wouldn’t even sell that technology to us.” Tehrani furrowed
