“Krell squadron,” Cobb said. “Eight ships.”
What?
“At heading 125-111-1000,” Cobb continued. “One of our scouting pairs caught them sneaking in at low altitude. Flightleader, your backup is still five to ten away. You’ll need to engage.”
Engage.
“Understood, Flight Command,” Jorgen said.
“These are standard Krell interceptors, best the scouts could tell,” Cobb said. “Admiral’s orders are for you to get close, visually confirm that there isn’t a bomber among them. Then destroy or drive back any fighters.
“AA guns will wait on standby; shooting into combat is a good way to get our own people killed. But if you can IMP any fighters that escape you, the small AA guns should be able to handle them. And if you can lure any enemy high enough, the large gun might be able to pick them off.” Cobb paused. “I’m patching your ships into the general battle chatter. Good luck, cadets. Listen to your flightleader; remember your training. This one is for real.”
The light clicked off.
“Finally!” Hurl said.
“I want a wide sweep formation,” Jorgen said to us. “You heard the heading. 125-111-1000. This is going to be close to the ground. Watch your relative elevation. Let’s move!”
We fell into a wide formation, in wingmate pairs. Me and Hurl, Jorgen and Arturo, FM and Kimmalyn. We sped through the gap between the two peaks, rounding to the east, along the indicated heading. We caught the visuals almost immediately—eight Krell ships flying in a U shape.
“We’re yours, flightleader,” a woman’s voice said on the general channel. “Val-class. Ranger Seven, callsign: Cloak.”
“Ranger Eight, callsign: Underscore,” a male voice added.
Val-class. Those would be the two scout ships; I couldn’t pick them out yet, but they’d join the fight with us.
My fatigue melted away in the face of my excitement. It was happening. A real fight. Not an accidental engagement, but actual orders to bring down an enemy squadron.
“Thanks for your help, scouts,” Jorgen said. “We’re ordered to get visual confirmation on the status of a bomber among these fellows. Ranger pair, I want you to coordinate that to Flight Command. My Pocos will run a scatter formation and try to break the enemy apart into individuals. Focus your attention on making sure we’ve identified each ship.”
“Confirmed,” Cloak said.
“All right, team,” Jorgen said. “Overburn to Mag-3, then once we engage, drop to dogfighting speeds. Free-for-all, take what you can, and watch your wingmate.” He breathed out. “Stars guard you.”
“And you, flightleader,” Arturo said.
They both sounded worried. My resolve wavered. Which I hated. I was not going to become a coward.
“Go!” Jorgen said.
“Yeah!” Hurl yelped, and hit her overburn.
I followed, tearing through the sky in a sudden acceleration toward the enemy. Exactly as in the simulations, the Krell scattered when directly engaged. They didn’t worry about covering their wingmates; they counted on their superior ships to compensate for our superior coordination.
I hugged Hurl’s left rear. We pulled out of overburn at high speed and banked right, picking a specific Krell ship to target. We’d moved into a debris fall, but it was mostly small chunks that were burning up high overhead. The occasional midsize piece dropped past us, trailing smoke, but none were big enough for lightlance maneuvers.
We fell to fighting speeds and stuck to our target. I held back just far enough to be outside range if Hurl fired her IMP. Two Val-class starfighters—designed for scanner avoidance and speed—swooped in overhead. They wouldn’t have much in the way of firepower.
“Cloak,” I said, flipping a button. “This is Skyward Ten, callsign: Spin. The ship I’m chasing is a regular Krell interceptor.”
“Confirmed,” Cloak said. I didn’t hear the rest of the chatter; the others would be reporting individually. Hopefully, the two scouts could keep track enough to identify each ship.
Hurl and I swept along the ground, dodging right, then left as we passed into a large crater. Hurl hit overburn to try to get close enough to IMP, but overshot as the Krell turned upward.
I stayed on it, and Hurl cursed softly, falling in behind me. “We don’t have any tails, Spin. Let’s bring that bucket down before it gets help.”
“Confirmed.” I kept my attention on the enemy. Yes . . . single-minded focus. My helmet sensors—which I mostly ignored these days—grew warm. I felt like I could anticipate the Krell’s turns as it zipped out of the crater and banked right.
Focus. Nothing else mattered. No worries. No fear. Just me, my ship, and the target.
Closer.
Closer.
Almost.
“Guys! Help!”
Kimmalyn.
I cursed, my concentration breaking. There she was, being chased by three tails. Scud! FM curved around behind, trying to get into position to offer her support.
I broke off my chase, and Hurl followed as we rushed toward Kimmalyn. “Covering fire,” I said, and the two of us opened up with destructors, spraying enough fire that the three tails went into defensive maneuvers and let Kimmalyn escape.
“Thanks,” FM said, falling in beside Kimmalyn. I took the time to spot Arturo and Jorgen engaged in a dogfight with three Krell. With that much heat on them, they wouldn’t dare use an IMP and leave themselves exposed.
“We need to pick off some strays,” I said to Hurl, “and bring the odds in our favor.”
“Right,” she said. “At your three. Look good?”
“Go for it,” I said, following her as we swooped toward another Krell. It looked identical to the one we’d been chasing—that same shape with wires trailing at the rear. It didn’t appear that any of these were bombers.
I radioed in what we’d seen, and then we chased the ship out away from the main firefight. When it tried to cut left to circle around, I was able to overburn and drive it back. Isolated, it tried to simply outrun us on the straight, accelerating to Mag-3, then Mag-4.
“I’m going in!” Hurl said. Her booster flared into overburn, and she roared forward.
I was already anticipating her. We’d done this together so many times in the last week that I knew, by instinct, exactly how it would go. In a perfect maneuver, she got in just close enough and hit her IMP. With a flash of blue, her shield went down, and so did the Krell’s.
I weaved past as she slowed, then I unleashed my destructors. It was almost a surprise when the Krell ship exploded into molten bits. It had actually worked!
Hurl whooped as we both slowed down. I pivoted and came back to cover her while she reignited her shield. A piece of space debris careened past me, exploding with a soft blast when it impacted not far below.
“Is that first blood?” I said, hitting a button. “Jorgen, we got one!”
“Congrats,” he said, his voice tense.
I scanned the rest of the battle. He and Arturo were still dealing with three ships—and the scouts had managed to chase one off in the other direction, trying a maneuver similar to what Hurl and I had done. That meant . . .
Three ships, chasing Kimmalyn. Again.