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

straight ahead, through the window. Hope built within her. They might yet save the convoy and escape to fight another day. “Communications, ensure all ships are ready for an alpha strike on my command.”

“Aye, aye, ma’am,” Singh replied. Even the Communications officer sounded far more buoyant than he had mere minutes before.

Justin had done the only sensible thing he could think of: avoid combat and direct contact with any other fighters while he tried to figure out the controls of the utterly foreign craft. Most of the knobs, levers, and buttons had lettering underneath them, but the language was some combination of what Justin thought was French and Russian. It’s got to be Russian, because I recognize some of the Cyrillic symbols. But none of that helped him understand how to fly the craft. He settled for testing each thing and seeing what it did. He’d located the flare launchers and the energy-weapon trigger but not communications. Undeterred, Justin pressed on.

A cracking sound came from his helmet’s integrated short-range commlink. Several bursts of static later, Justin caught half a word. “Ease.”

“This is Lieutenant Justin Spencer, Coalition Defense Force. Can anyone hear me?”

More static and ear-piercing screeches answered him.

Justin turned his attention back to the control panel. He moved on to a group of knobs and pressed a button in their center. Immediately, the sound of people speaking in Russian filled his ears. It’s coming from speakers inside the cockpit. While it was enemy communications, at least he’d made progress.

A bright flash erupted outside of the canopy, coupled with an immediate increase in comms-traffic volume. Even though Justin couldn’t understand a word, the tone was unmistakable: panic. He turned his head to see the Rand in serious trouble. Explosions blossomed out of its port side, around the area of the hangar bay. While its hull integrity held, the mighty warship was crippled. The rate of fire from her plasma-cannon turrets dropped precipitously.

With a smile, Justin went back to trying to contact the rest of his element and the Zvika Greengold. Maybe I’ll get out of this alive just yet.

“Conn, TAO. Aspect change, Master Four. Contact has slowed to ten-meters-per-second thrust. She’s almost dead in space.”

Tehrani leaned forward. Between the reduction in speed and rapidly decreasing volume of fire, it seemed as if the heavy cruiser was finally down for the count. “TAO, firing point procedures, forward neutron beams, Master Four.”

“Firing solutions set, ma’am. Energy-discharge modification is complete.” Bryan glanced back at Wright. “I’ve got lunch down on it frying the neutron emitter.”

“Oh ye of little faith,” Wright replied with a grin.

“Match bearings, shoot, forward neutron beams.”

Twin spears of blue energy shot out from the bow of the Zvika Greengold. Moving at the speed of light, they connected almost immediately with the depleted deflectors on the League heavy cruiser. Simultaneously, the Marcus Luttrell and a few civilian vessels opened up with everything they had—including the Holden-Nagata MkII freighter with its enhanced weaponry. Had the Rand’s shields been at more than ten percent power, or if it hadn’t been crippled from the series of internal explosions, it probably would’ve been able to shrug off the combined attack.

The powerful deflectors held for a few moments then failed. Magnetic-cannon shells, neutron beams, missiles, plasma cannons, and xaser fire hit the monster of a warship from all sides. The blue spears from the Greengold, enhanced by the extra power throughput, proved particularly lethal. They punched through the heavy cruiser’s hull and out the other side, turning entire sections of the vessel’s exterior molten. Chunks blew off as secondary explosions spread, then in the blink of an eye, the whole ship blew apart in a spectacular display of pyrotechnics.

Wild cheers broke out throughout the bridge. Officers and enlisted personnel all joined in, and dropping decorum for a few moments, Tehrani clapped loudly and pumped her fist into the air in triumph. She allowed the tumult to continue a good fifteen seconds before clearing her throat. “Okay, people, back to work. We’ve still got hostile fast movers to deal with.”

The victory lap ended immediately, and a hush descended across the bridge of the Zvika Greengold.

Bryan turned around. “Three enemy fighters and one bomber left, ma’am.”

Tehrani nodded. She glanced at the XO’s chair. “Land the bombers and Boars. Have our remaining fighter elements clear the board and get SAR birds prepped for launch.”

“Aye, aye, ma’am,” Wright replied quickly.

The sudden turn of events shocked Tehrani to her core. The Leaguers had them dead to rights. Sometimes in battle, an unexpected stroke of luck changed the result. At least, the military history books said so. Perhaps a miracle? Regardless of the why, she felt an enormous wave of relief. I think I owe the mosque a visit as soon as we jump. Tehrani suddenly realized she had spent more time in prayer and attending services in the last six weeks than in the previous six years.

“Conn, Communications,” Singh said excitedly. “Colonel, it’s Lieutenant Spencer. He’s flying a League fighter! He stole one from their hangar deck.”

“What?” Wright exclaimed. “Do his security codes check out?”

“Yes, sir,” Singh replied. “Along with the biometrics from his flight suit.”

Tehrani let out a chuckle. “You realize that, however he pulled it off, it’ll be a story for the ages, right?” What are the odds of Spencer stealing a League fighter out of a cruiser’s hangar bay during combat? Her amazement grew the longer she pondered it. Allah fought at his side today.

“Oh, yes, ma’am.” Wright laughed. “There might even be a medal in there somewhere.”

“TAO, ensure the Lieutenant’s fighter is redesignated as friendly.”

“Aye, aye, ma’am,” Bryan replied.

“Now, let’s finish this. Twenty minutes until we jump.” Tehrani sat back and finally relaxed. The pent-up stress flowed out of her as she watched the last few enemy contacts disappear—chased down by her pilots.

The blinding flash from the destruction of the League capital ship had barely faded when red plasma balls narrowly missed Justin’s fighter. He’d tried to avoid contact, but one of