His eyes flicked back to the HUD’s sensor screen. He wasn’t kidding when he said these guys are high-quality combatants. The pirate corvettes were in the process of making another attack run on the Ernest Evans and the Vasco da Gama, though the da Gama was trying to retreat.
“CAG, those frigates are getting shot to hell. Request permission to break off and engage the attacking corvettes,” the voice of Lieutenant Green came in on a private channel.
For a moment, Whatley considered rebuking her, but he knew it was unlikely the da Gama would make it out without help. “Granted, Lieutenant. We’ll keep the enemy off you for a bit. Take an element of Maulers too.”
“Yes, sir. We’re on it.”
As Green and her Boars roared off toward the ongoing battle between the corvettes and the Greengold’s battlegroup, Whatley did the math. With the continued loss of hull stability in the da Gama, there was no way they’d make it in time. The stricken frigate tried to open a Lawrence drive portal. Bright crackles of energy radiated out from the artificial wormhole before it collapsed on itself and spread out. One of the arcs intersected with the da Gama’s forward hull and blew the bow off. A chain reaction began, and explosions dotted the length of the vessel before it blew apart in uneven chunks no more than a meter wide.
Stunned, Whatley could only stare and wonder at the horrific loss of life. No escape pods were launched. God help us all.
A new pirate fighter to attack in the target-rich environment was only a few seconds from his grasp. He determined to even the odds as much as he could. These bastards are gonna pay with their lives.
19
The glare from the reactor explosion that had just claimed the Vasco da Gama still cast a shadow over the bridge of the Zvika Greengold. Tehrani’s mouth went dry as she contemplated the loss of yet another vessel and the more than two hundred soldiers manning it. Her gaze went back to the tactical plot. The pirate corvettes were massing for another attack run, but the other wing was sweeping up behind the Greengold’s battlegroup.
“Sierra One is reporting full alpha strike ready, ma’am,” Wright said as he stared at the fleet tactical network link. “Only seeing a couple of life pods off Sierra Three.”
Tehrani felt the Marcus Luttrell, combined with their forward beams, ought to inflict some damage. There’ll be time for grief later. “Navigation, shift us ten degrees to starboard. Signal all escorts to follow. TAO, firing point procedures, forward neutron beams, Master Eight.” She sucked in a breath. “Set primary fleet target as Master Eight.”
“Aye, aye, ma’am. Firing solutions set,” Bryan replied.
The closest enemy ship made a decent target, as it had the tightest turn and most predictable path.
On Tehrani’s monitor, the enemy forces edged closer to weapons range before accelerating. The moment they crossed the line, she spoke. “TAO, signal Sierra One to engage.”
Despite its deceptively small size, the Gladius-class destroyer packed a punch. A volley of magnetic-cannon shells raced away from the Marcus Luttrell’s turrets, packing EMP warheads to drain shields, followed by neutron beams and a brace of anti-ship missiles. The weapons fire crisscrossed with a stream of plasma balls and meson energy from the enemy. Shields on both sides lit up like Christmas trees.
“TAO, match bearings, shoot, forward neutron beams.” Tehrani held on for dear life as repeated impacts from the hostile barrage hammered the Greengold’s defensive screens.
The four pirate corvettes to the front of them filled the void with a variety of energy weaponry, most of it directed at the Greengold’s forward shield. Amid the maelstrom, the carrier’s bow came alive with two beams of blue light that connected immediately with the enemy ship receiving the most attention from the CDF vessels. Its shields flickered then blinked out, and the neutron beams sliced through the armor, turning it molten. A few moments later, the corvette blew apart in a powerful explosion.
“Conn, TAO. Master Eight destroyed, ma’am.”
My tactical officer’s calm demeanor in the face of overwhelming odds says a lot about what we’ve been through the past year. Tehrani leaned forward. “Navigation, come to heading zero-eight-five, all ahead flank. Signal the fleet to join our maneuver.”
“Trying to recharge our fore and port shields, Skipper?” Wright asked.
Tehrani nodded. “Exactly. Drop them, cycle the generators, and get back into the fight. Hopefully before the hammer drops.” She was cutting it far closer than was prudent, but it was still their best chance to eliminate the pirate threat once and for all. Allah help us, because these scum need to be wiped off the face of His universe.
A group of new icons suddenly appeared on the tactical plot, clustered together and roughly two thousand kilometers away from the group of corvettes that had just attacked them.
“Conn, TAO. Starbolt missiles in the void… headed for Master Ten.” Bryan turned his head around. “Running hot, straight, and normal.”
“And that would be the Astute,” Wright murmured. “Right on time.”
“It’s becoming a thing,” Tehrani replied dryly. “They might lay claim to our motto.”
Wright snickered. “Nah, Skipper. We’ve got that down to a science.”
Tehrani’s gaze remained glued to the plot as the eight anti-ship missile icons raced toward Master Ten. Point-defense fire felled three of them, but the rest pressed onward and merged with the dot representing the hostile vessel.
“Conn, TAO. Master Ten disabled. Make that destroyed, ma’am.”
Four down, seven to go. Battlegroup Z had eliminated three of the pirate corvettes outright and disabled a fourth. The enemy seemed to have no desire to break off the engagement. Rather, they were pressing forward. They can absorb the losses. We can’t.
A group of Mauler bombers rushed forward. While the enemy's point defense was ineffective against the advanced technology of the Starbolt missiles, it seemed to be more than up to the challenge of defending against small craft.
First one Mauler then a second and a third exploded in quick succession from
