Adeoye’s deep voice broke through the crosstalk. “I may have a solution.”
“Let’s hear it, Lieutenant,” Justin said before anyone else could speak.
“Lieutenant Green,” Adeoye continued. “Are your Boars carrying ground-attack rocket pods?”
“All of us have a pod mounted. Yeah. It's built into the fuselage. Pardon me, but what the hell do ground-attack rockets have to do with attacking their carrier?”
Justin grinned. He knew what was coming next.
“During the Battle of Canaan, several of us discovered that they could be dumb fired in space to significant effect against larger bombers. If the Boars go in front, clearing a path with a sustained burst of neutron-cannon and rocket fire, it might allow us to sweep behind and get an attack run in on the enemy carrier.”
“Okay, Lieutenant. It’s your lucky day, because we’re collectively crazy enough to try. CAG, with your permission, Black Hogs will take point.”
“Granted,” Whatley replied. “Line it up by element and fall in. Let’s remind these bastards we’re the Coalition Defense Force.”
“Fight the good fight,” Feldstein said, beginning the war chant.
“No matter the odds!” the commlink echoed with the reply from every pilot.
Justin pulled up his detailed sensor screen and examined the opposing group. Roughly twenty enemy craft remained, mostly the heavy-fighter variant. The Black Hogs eased out in front of their formation, the Sabres took the right and left wings, and the Mauler bombers made up the protected center. They ended up with a roughly spherical shape that would allow for maximum firepower directed at the hostiles.
“CAG to all pilots. Max thrust. Push it up.”
Not needing to be told twice, Justin kicked his throttle up to the maximum level. While every other craft in the formation had some form of afterburners, he trimmed out power reserves from his shields and weapons to add extra speed. Justin let out a breath. One way or another, we win or die here.
The opposition had lined up in two neat rows, almost daring the friendly forces to engage. Justin used the interactive HUD to tag several primary targets for the Red Tails before he cued his commlink. “Alpha One to Alpha, Beta, and Charlie fighters. Double up on the Black Hogs’ targets. Do not break off to engage. Put everything you’ve got on target and blast through.”
“Wilco,” Feldstein replied, as did the remaining Red Tails.
In front of them, the Boars, led by Green, opened up with a murderous flood of neutron bolts and dumb-fire rockets. She’d carefully selected the weakest, damaged pirate fighters for their assault. The barrage of firepower was too much—several enemy craft blew apart, and the Boars roared through the holes in their line, followed closely by the Sabres and the slower Mauler bombers.
The remaining pirate corvettes were next in line, forming a protective screen around the carrier. Several Boars broke off and lit up one of the vessels with missiles, energy weapons, and the distinctive primary armament: the nose-mounted magnetic cannon. Their fire focused on the most damaged ship, and the mag cannons proved highly effective at knocking out turrets. Once the ship was defanged, the rest of the small craft swung around it and pressed on.
Come on. Come on. We don’t have all day. Any second, Justin expected to find a brace of anti-fighter warheads heading for their exposed six. The slow Maulers rolled into firing position while the Boars and Sabres moved out of the way.
“Gamma Two, fox four.”
The bombers launched five Javelins, and they accelerated quickly toward the target vessel: the pirate carrier. In the melee of combat, Justin was focused more on staying alive than tracking the exact trajectory of the warheads. However, it was readily apparent that most missed their target, destroyed by the enemy's point-defense system. Dammit. In desperation, he rolled away from the craft he was trying to obtain a guns solution on and aimed his Ghost for Master One.
As the converted bulk freighter filled the view at the front of Justin’s cockpit, he realized the fighter bays, built into the side of the vessel, seemed to lack protective force fields. At least they’re not glowing like the Greengold’s do—and every other carrier I’ve ever seen. Justin reached down to toggle his missile launcher to the LIDAR-tracking Vultures. “Alpha One to all friendlies. Keep these guys off me for fifteen more seconds.”
Point-defense fire zoomed toward Justin’s Ghost as half a dozen turrets lit up the area around his craft like the fireworks display on Coalition Landfall Day. He applied fine movements, avoiding as much of it as possible while keeping in arc toward his target. All the while, Justin tinkered with the fail-safes on his weapons. I wonder if it’s even designed to do this. Probably not.
Green’s Boar roared by his right side, its neutron cannons blazing away. The stream of blue bolts went straight for one of the point-defense emplacements engaging him. Her intersession worked: half the turrets switched their target to her fighter, and maneuvering became far easier.
It took a few more minutes to get to point-blank range. All the while, Justin juked and dodged fire from both the pirate fighters and their mothership. He completely lost track of the battle and focused solely on getting in range of the hangar. A few more Boars joined the fray and silenced one of the PD cannons, making Justin’s job even simpler at the last second.
As the giant hangar area loomed, he pressed the missile-launch button twice, sending four Vultures into it—with no target. Immediately, Justin pulled back on the flight stick and reversed course. He rocketed away from the carrier, redirecting his weapons power to the engine to get a few more KPH to avoid the corvette’s PD as he entered their range.
“Spencer, what the hell did you do?” Whatley rasped.
“Uh, tried something, sir.”
“We’ve got secondary explosions out of the flight deck on Master One.”
Son of a… It worked. Justin gave a knowing grin. “On my way out of that League cruiser earlier in
