Hostile Spike (Battlegroup Z Book 2) by Daniel Gibbs (best pdf ebook reader TXT) 📕

“Then get out there and kill some Leaguers before they start popping our freighters.” As always, Whatley’s tone was exceedingly gruff.

“On our way, sir.” Justin flipped the commlink channel to the air boss. “Boss, request permission to launch.”

“Permission granted, Alpha. Good luck, good hunting, and Godspeed.”

With a grunt, Justin turned the commlink channel back to his element. “Okay, boys and girls, we’re getting our turn at bat. Launch on me.”

He held down his throttle control and pressed the button to activate the magnetic accelerator catapult on the Greengold. His Sabre rocketed out of the flight bay and sped away. Feldstein, Mateus, and Adeoye were right behind him.

The integrated battlespace-awareness system in Justin’s HUD populated with friendly and hostile contacts. The blue icons associated with Beta element were missing two fighters, and one of Epilson’s bombers flashed red, indicating severe hull damage.

He gripped his flight stick with his right hand and lined up with the closest enemy craft. “Alpha, push it up to max speed and engage afterburners. The first objective is to assist our brothers.”

“Acknowledged, sir,” Feldstein replied.

As the Marcus Luttrell and the Zvika Greengold exchanged weapons fire with the remaining League frigate, Justin and the rest of Alpha flight weaved through the convoy of freighters. The sight was unique to behold. Most of the time, civilian cargo haulers plied their trade alone, or sometimes they flew in a small corporate convoy of two or three vessels. To see over thirty together with a CDF escort was unprecedented. At least during peacetime.

Unlike most engagements, with the two friendly Sabres locked in a tail-turning dogfight, Justin and his fellows didn’t have to endure incoming missile and energy-weapon fire. Instead, he settled into an attack vector on the nearest Leaguer and lit off his LIDAR active-tracking system. The missile-lock-on tone sounded, and Justin squeezed the launch button. A single Vulture dropped out of his internal-stores bay and blasted off toward the enemy. “Alpha One, Fox three.”

Missiles zoomed away from the other three craft in the element while Justin tracked his quarry, stabbing at it with bright-blue neutron-cannon blasts. Several bolts connected, and the League Shrike exploded in a brief ball of blue-and-orange flame. “Alpha One, splash one,” he called. “Alpha flight engaged.”

Feldstein’s Sabre raced by as a flurry of energy weapons erupted from it. Another enemy craft blew up, followed quickly by two more. Justin noted with satisfaction that his pilots didn’t seem to have any cobwebs from their month-long combat hiatus. It certainly helped that Beta worked these guys over pretty good. None had more than twenty percent shield power.

“Beta One, I see you’ve taken significant hull damage.”

“Still combat capable, sir,” the pilot replied. “And nearly full stores.”

Justin made a quick decision. “Return to home plate. Both of you. We’ll get S and R out here to scoop up the escape pods from Beta Two and Four.”

“Sir—”

“That’s an order,” Justin barked.

“Roger. Beta is RTB.”

Justin rotated his craft and leveled out on a vector to intercept the active flight of League Totem heavy bombers. Three of them were headed directly for the Marcus Luttrell, while the fourth seemed to have disappeared. I guess Beta got it before we arrived.

The voice of Lieutenant Francis Martin, the colorful commander of the Zvika Greengold’s bomber squadron, came over the commlink. “Attack run commencing on Master One, mates. Stand clear of the blast radius. And if you’re a pansy-ass commie, please put your head between your legs and kiss your arse goodbye!”

Justin laughed loudly. The ribald banter from the Aussie was still a welcome distraction in combat. “Wilco, Epilson One. Enjoy the fireworks.”

“You’d better believe it, mate.”

A good fifteen seconds passed. Right before Justin and the rest of Alpha element hit the League bombers' maximum engagement range, bright-blue spears of directed energy cut across his cockpit canopy. That would be the neutron beams on the Marcus Luttrell. They sliced through the unshielded hull of the remaining enemy frigate. Another two beams from the Greengold added to the destruction, and a moment later, the vessel exploded into one-meter-sized chunks.

For a few seconds, Justin allowed himself to believe they’d successfully defended the convoy, as he closed with the remaining bombers. The notion was quickly dispelled as multiple wormholes appeared on his HUD. With a firm grip on his flight stick, he decided the best thing he could do was clean up the enemy before them as quickly as possible.

“Conn, TAO. LIDAR effects… inbound wormholes.”

Tehrani glanced at her tactical plot, which didn’t yet register the new vessels. They can’t be friendly. It would be too much to ask that the attack they’d already repulsed would be it for the run. “IFF, Lieutenant?”

“One moment, ma’am,” Bryan replied quickly. “Aspect change. Enemy contacts confirmed. Three Cobra-class destroyers.” Cobra was the new designation from CDF command. Who knew what the Leaguers called the vessels. “Designated Master Three, Four, and Five.”

Three new red icons sprang into being on Tehrani’s monitor. They headed straight for the merchant ships on an intercept vector. “TAO, designate Master—” She checked the plot to be sure of her orders. “Four as the battle group’s primary target.”

“Aye, aye, ma’am.”

“Navigation, come to heading zero-one-zero, declination fifteen degrees.”

The Marcus Luttrell accelerated toward the new threat, while the Greengold turned. The mass of the carrier coupled with its weaker engines—compared to a vessel designed for fast space warfare like a destroyer or a frigate—led to an agonizingly slow wait. Tehrani felt a tap on her shoulder and turned toward its source.

“Colonel, I’ve got an idea. If we fly under a couple of merchant ships here”—Wright pointed at a series of blue dots on the tactical plot—“we might take the lead enemy vessel here by surprise. They’re probably focused on the Luttrell coming in at max sublight.”

Tehrani grinned. “I thought you were all for staying in the back and letting our small craft do the heavy lifting.”

“Well, yeah. That’s what a carrier typically does, but you want to be different, and it’s