Hostile Spike (Battlegroup Z Book 2) Daniel Gibbs (classic book list txt) 📖

in the banter. “Yeah, here we are, taking the League out one fighter at a time, while the bombers get to knock out five hundred at once.”

“But we still get looked down on by the rest of you. How’s that work, mate?” Martin chortled. “Bombers get no respect.”

As Justin turned his craft, he slashed back toward the enemy formation, which was down to three fighters thanks to the attentions of his wingmen. He lined up the nearest enemy and squeezed the firing trigger the moment he heard the missile tone. “Alpha One, Fox three.” The LIDAR-tracking warhead dropped out of his Sabre’s internal stores bay and raced away. Simultaneously, he sent bolt after bolt of neutron-cannon fire at the unlucky Leaguer. They connected, and coupled with the impact of the Vulture, it was enough to destroy the opposing pilot.

The work of defeating the fighter escorts, while necessary, masked a more significant problem. No matter how many of the single-seat craft Justin and his fellows downed, more always came. And when that Rand gets here in a few minutes, there’s going to be a lot of dead merchant spacers in this convoy. With the sobering thought rattling around in his brain, Justin picked another target and engaged his afterburners.

“Conn, TAO. Master Three shields have failed. She’s turning away and accelerating.”

Tehrani scanned the tactical plot and grinned wolfishly. The enemy frigate had taken a gamble by staging a high-speed firing run on one of the freighters on the convoy’s outer sphere—a bet they were about to lose. “TAO, firing point procedures, forward neutron beams, Master Three.”

“Firing solutions set, ma’am.”

“Coordinate with Sierra One for a time on target attack. I want them to match up with us perfectly.”

“Aye, aye, ma’am,” Bryan replied. A moment later, he turned around. “Time on target confirmed, ma’am.”

“Match bearings, shoot, forward neutron beams.”

First, the Marcus Lutrell—Sierra One—let loose all the mag-cannon turrets she could to bear on the fleeing vessel. As the destroyer added its neutron beams to the fray, so did the Zvika Greengold. Bright-blue spears of death erupted from the carrier’s bow and bored through the League ship’s brittle hull. Explosions blossomed across its surface, while crew close enough to the escape pods made use of them. The final death blow came from the Marcus Lutrell. Several large anti-ship missiles with fusion warheads exploded within the doomed frigate’s exposed bowels. They hit something big, either the primary reactor or a missile magazine, and blew up in a massive fireball. The shockwave destroyed many of the escape pods before they got far enough away, leaving chunks less than a meter across in its wake.

“Scratch another Leaguer escort,” Wright said quietly. “If I were keeping score, I’d say we’d have quite a few kill marks on our hull.”

Despite everything going on around her, Tehrani chuckled. “Only fighters get kill markings, Major.”

“Maybe we should get that regulation changed.”

Too focused on the tactical plot and the ongoing battle to answer, Tehrani zoomed in on the four up-armed freighters she’d deployed on the Leaguers’ attack vector. “Signal Captain Shikoba, now’s the time. Have them target Master Two.”

Wright nodded. “Aye, aye, ma’am.”

A few moments later, the ships altered course. A collection of weaponry—purple plasma cannons, xasers, and even projectile-based point-defense turrets—fired on an unsuspecting enemy frigate. It had already taken significant deflector damage, and the unexpected barrage hammered them down. The red shield effects disappeared, and merchant-vessel fire hit home against the Leaguer’s hull.

“TAO, designate Master Two as the primary target,” Tehrani barked. The Zvika Greengold was out of arc, so she couldn’t send her weapons into the fray. “Immediately.”

“Aye, aye, ma’am,” Bryan replied.

On the tactical plot, the Marcus Luttrell arced back around and accelerated toward Master Two. Magnetic-cannon shells spat from its turrets along with bright-blue neutron beams. They raked the enemy vessel from bow to stern and neatly sliced off a portion of the hull superstructure near what appeared to be the bridge or command center. One of the Mauler bombers from Gamma element got off an anti-ship missile, which avoided all point-defense fire the frigate could throw at it. A moment later, the warhead blew up in a flash of blinding light. The enemy ship broke in two, atmosphere trailing both sections, while secondary explosions spread.

“Damn. Those League ships blow up real good,” Wright commented.

“We’re taking candy from a baby right now, XO,” Tehrani replied tightly. “That will change the moment Master Four gets into weapons range.”

The remaining League frigate began another attack run. Its forward cannons flung red balls of superheated plasma at the freighter with the weakest shields, while red beams lashed out. The friendly vessel’s deflectors failed, and one of the beams pierced the hull, going clear through the ship and out the other side.

Tehrani saw it happen on her tactical plot, and her eyes flashed. “TAO, can you obtain a firing solution on Master One?”

“Negative, ma’am. She’s too far away, and Sierra Sixteen is blocking our shot.”

While Tehrani ran different tactical scenarios through her mind—complicated by the Marcus Luttrell being out of position for an intercept—one of the freighters turned tightly out of formation and accelerated toward the enemy vessel.

“What the heck does he think he’s doing?” Wright asked with a grumble. “Civilians can’t take on warships.”

“This one thinks he can, apparently,” Tehrani replied dryly. “What’s the make of that ship? I don’t think I’ve seen it before.”

“Holden-Nagata Mk II. Sweet little freighters. Fast for their class too,” Wright’s said with admiration.

“You seem to know a lot about civilian ships, XO.” Tehrani flashed a smile. “I didn’t realize it was a hobby of yours.”

“Oh, I figured I’d get a job as a freighter captain once I finished my stint in the CDF. You know me… born spacer.”

Tehrani addressed Singh, “Communications, warn that ship off. Order them back into formation.”

“Aye, aye, ma’am.” The Sikh lieutenant paused. “Ma’am, they sent a text-only message back. ‘We’ve got this.’”

Wright snickered. “Well, they’ve got balls. I’ll give them that.”

Tehrani barely refrained from rolling her eyes. She didn’t care