Wings of Honor Craig Andrews (ebook reader for pc .TXT) 📖

“Bravo Four,” Coda said. “Bravo Four, this is Alpha One. I've got your enemy in my sights. Prepare to break to positive-Z, six degrees in three. Acknowledge.”

“Acknowledged, Coda,” came the voice on the radio. “It sure is good to see you.”

With the enemy fighter nearly in his sights, Coda didn't have time to chat. “Break!”

Bravo Four suddenly veered course, and as Coda expected, the enemy pilot took the bait. Moving to intercept, Coda waited for his targeting computer to get a lock. The X-23’s anti-radar did its job, slipping missile lock like a banana peel in an old cartoon, but that would delay the inevitable for only so long.

After two more breaths, Coda had lock and fired his first missile. The yellow icon streaked toward the red indicator on this HUD, and a moment later, the enemy vessel disappeared from the battle map. In real life, the fighter went completely dark, save for its emergency markers as the ship’s onboard computer steered it safely from the battle.

“Splash one!” Coda boomed into the radio.

“Thank you, Coda.”

“No problem, Bravo Four. Let’s get back in there.”

Coda brought his fighter around in a wide arc, targeting the next fighter that had unwittingly opened up its flank to Coda’s incoming vector. As quickly as Coda registered the opportunity, he got tone. Less than a second later, another missile was on its way.

“Splash two!”

Coda completed the arc and made for another pass through the knot of fighters. It was the equivalent of running through a swarm of yellow jackets. At breakneck speeds, fighters zipped in every direction. He and Squawks took out two more fighters before they erupted through the far edge.

Coda brought his fighter back around, preparing for another pass, then spotted an enemy fighter in pursuit. “Evasive maneuvers,” Coda said.

Squawks split from Coda, pulling above the battle plane. The enemy stayed with Coda, moving into firing position.

“He’s coming around on my six,” Coda said. “Where are you, Squawks?”

“I've got you, Coda. Continue course.”

Coda strafed left and right, weaving in and out of the edges of the dogfight, using its natural chaos to his advantage. Fighters were everywhere, blazing so fast that he barely had time to see them, let alone take evasive maneuvers to avoid a collision. He was nearly clipped more than once, and the encounters left him in a cold sweat. The commander had armed them with digital rounds and missiles, and he’d even put restrictions on speed and elevation as it pertained to the moon—there would be no canyon runs on this flight—but there was nothing the commander could do to prevent fighters from colliding with each other.

Despite his attempts to shake him, the enemy drew closer. “I can’t hold him much longer, Squawks!”

“Two seconds.”

An alarm claxon blared. Coda didn’t have two seconds.

“Alpha Two!” Squawks shouted. “Fox Three. Bingo!”

The enemy indicator disappeared from Coda’s HUD. “Good shooting, Squawks. I owe you one.”

“Like shooting fish in a barrel, right, Tex?”

Tex’s laughter echoed through the comm. “Easy as fallin’ off a log.”

“Whatever that means,” Squawks said, reappearing on Coda’s wing.

Coda focused his HUD, studying the mass of ships. “Squawks, break formation. It’s not going to do us any good in there.”

“The commander’s going to have your ass,” Squawks said, reminding Coda of the commander’s disdain for fighters going at it alone.

“Break formation but follow my lead. Make it appear as if I’m a lone wolf and see who takes the bait.”

“Copy that.”

Squawks’s fighter veered off perpendicular to Coda’s, darting into the mass of fighters with complete disregard for his own safety. Coda followed a moment later, entering from a different angle.

Fighters zigged and zagged in every direction, moving faster than Coda could track, but though he’d been overwhelmed in his first two passes, the world seemed to slow now. His actions were measured, never rushed. His heartbeat remained within its resting boundaries. Again, he allowed the computer to analyze the various flight trajectories. This time, he let it select his targets for him.

Targeting brackets appeared around another enemy fighter. It moved more slowly than the rest, its movements timid, as if the pilot was afraid of making a mistake.

Uno was right. He never would have made it out here. Coda followed his target through the mass of fighters, recognizing the other pilot by her flight style. Bear, how many times has the commander told you that speed is life?

Getting into firing range took less than three seconds, and even then, seeing no reason to waste his missiles, Coda switched to guns. As the fighter moved into his crosshairs, Coda let off a quick double burst.

Bear’s cockpit went black as she vanished from Coda’s HUD. Coda didn’t take any time to celebrate before moving on to the next target. He thumbed the switch back to missiles, then took out two more fighters before spotting an incoming third.

Pulling back on the stick, Coda darted above the battle plane, then rolled into a steep-pitch turn, and let the enemy craft fly beneath him. Then he pulled out of the turn directly behind the other fighter. The pilot never saw him coming.

“Splash twelve!” Coda boomed as its cockpit went dark. “Keep it going, boys. We’ve got them on the ropes now.”

But Coda’s celebration was interrupted as Squawks’s voice cut through the rest of the radio chatter. “Coda, you’ve got company. Incoming bogeys. Ten o’clock, six degrees positive-Z.”

Coda found the fighter pair on his HUD. “I see them.”

“Move to intercept and hold course,” Squawks said. “I’ll provide cover.”

“Acknowledged.”

Coda pulled his fighter into a head-on course, daring the incoming fighters to engage. Tiny sparks shot from the front of the crafts as their cannons came alive. Coda fired his own bursts, but like the enemy fighters’, his weren’t effective. Squawks’s cannons, however, were. He cut in from negative-z, taking out the enemy wingman from below.

“Sorry, Coda,” he said as he zipped past the lead fighter. “Thought I could get both of them.”

Coda had no time to respond. The incoming fighter was coming