
Into the Uncertain
- eBook
- Paperback
- Audiobook
- Hardcover
- Book info
- Sample
- Media
- Author updates
- Lists
Synopsis
…could the wrath of a nation be quenched?
Or would it drown in the blood of its enemies?
It was a crucial piece of intel, and now they had coordinates for the RNS Freedom. The allies’ next move could change the course of everything, but there was just one question. Was the Viceroy’s final card to play enough to save the Republic?
The Gallentine Emperor isn’t pleased.
Could Viceroy Miles Hunt lose his place of influence?
Sakura and her team had discovered an ancient portal, but it wasn’t like the others. After being sealed for thousands of years, would opening it unlock Pandora’s box?
Were some secrets better left undiscovered?
Or would the answers there save them all?
Into the Uncertain pushes our heroes to their limits, forcing them to make decisions that will alter the fate of humanity. You’ll love this 9th book in this incredible military science fiction thriller series because some mysteries are solved and others have just begun.
Get it now.
Release date: February 12, 2024
Publisher: Front Line Publishing Inc.
* BingeBooks earns revenue from qualifying purchases as an Amazon Associate as well as from other retail partners.
Reader buzz

Author updates
Into the Uncertain
James Rosone
Chapter One
Recap
August 9, 2112
RNS Vanguard
IVO Republic Naval Shipyard
As Commander Joe Wright sat in the captain’s chair, he could see by the looks on people’s faces that they were nervous, maybe even a little concerned about what might or might not happen in the coming hours. They knew, based on the reports they’d been receiving from the Freedom, that an enemy fleet was preparing to invade—they just didn’t know when. One thing was certain: you could only keep people in a high state of readiness for so long. Eventually, they became exhausted, and their brains turned to mush. Once that started to happen, it became hard to keep your people sharp and ready for battle. He was glad Commodore Dobbs had taken his advice to catch up on a few hours of sleep. She commanded the squadron, and she needed to try to rest to keep her mind sharp; if she wasn’t going to do it herself, then as her XO, he’d try to prod her into it.
“Ops, let’s take advantage of the lack of activity and go ahead and do the crew changeover now. I’d like to get a fresh set of eyes on the stations and get the crew coming off duty into crew rest,” Commander Wright directed, amending the captain’s original orders.
“Aye, Commander. I’ll alert the department chiefs and the crew chiefs of the changes.”
Returning his gaze to the tactical action map or TAM system on the main screen of the bridge, he marveled at the size of the fleet that had been assembled on such short notice. The sheer power it represented was hard to comprehend, yet he knew an even more powerful fleet was on its way.
How could a fleet this large—this powerful—be defeated?
The last time he had seen a fleet of this size was during the final battle of the last war, the Second Battle of Sirius, during the second invasion of Alfheim. That battle had been intense, terrifying, if he was being honest. But it had also ended the war—or so they had thought. Now, as he sat once more in the captain’s chair on the eve of battle, he hoped that their luck would hold and this might be the battle that finally ended the dominance of the Zodarks and their cyborg overlords, the Orbots.
As the minutes turned to hours, he was glad he had rotated the crews when he had. He needed them sharp, just like they needed their commander to be sharp. When he glanced over at one of the clocks on the bridge, he saw it was time to wake the captain, so he sent a message to her neurolink that it was time for her to wake up.
A moment later, she messaged him. You were right, XO. I desperately needed that sleep. Anything I need to know about, or am I good to grab a shower and a coffee?
See? I told you you’d feel like a new person if you took a few-hour nap. No, it’s been quiet, nothing to report. I did go ahead and move up the crew rotations by two hours. A few of the crew on the bridge were starting to look a little worse for the wear, and I don’t want to force stims right now, not until the enemy shows up or we absolutely need to.
Good call, XO. Thanks for taking the initiative on that and being perceptive enough to see it was time. See? We’re going to make a captain out of you yet. I’ll see you in twenty.
Damn straight, I’m going to get my command after all this, he thought excitedly to himself. Dobbs was a good officer and leader. He’d learned everything he could from her, and she’d been willing to teach it.
Another five minutes had gone by when he felt the need to stand and stretch his back. As the XO, and sometimes filling in as the captain, he was often inundated with reports from the numerous department chiefs aboard the ship. The Navy loved its reports, and God help you if you failed to properly fill one out or submit it on time. The admin gods would strike you dead with a nastygram warning you that if you didn’t handle it immediately, it would be referred to your superiors for disciplinary action.
Damn rear-echelon losers…always got to make it hard on us.
As he twisted his torso, cracking a few joints along the way, a warning flashed across the top of the TAM. Warning—Anomaly Detected…Warning—Anomaly Detected…
“TAO, zero in on that location now! Comms, set condition one across the ship and bring us to full alert. Then send the order to the rest of the squadron while the commodore makes her way to the bridge,” ordered Commander Wright, bringing the ship and squadron to battle stations. If the anomaly turned out to be nothing, then he might be accused of being overzealous or jumpy. But if it was the fleet they’d been waiting on…then they’d be ready to act during those crucial opening minutes when a vessel crossed the bridge and its sensors took a few moments to recalibrate.
“Aye, Commander, redirecting the TAM to the anomaly now,” the deputy TAO announced.
Damn, I knew I shouldn’t have let Maggie talk me into having her check on turret three. I need her here now! Wright chided himself. Commander Little’s deputy would have to run the section until she returned.
The crew manning the bridge had kicked into overdrive, issuing orders to the departments they ran and preparing the Vanguard for battle.
As Commander Wright waited impatiently for the TAM to report on the anomaly it had detected, he glanced briefly at the weapons screen. He saw the green color code across the primary and secondary turrets change to a brighter green, confirming they were ready to fire. He was about to look away when turret three changed its status from yellow—functional but limited—to red—inoperable.
You have got to be kidding me…we’ve got a primary turret down on the eve of battle?
“What the hell, TAO? I need a status on turret three ASAP, and where the hell is Commander Little?” he barked.
“XO, Comms, incoming message from the fleet commander to all ship commanders,” announced Commander Waldman.
“Comms, patch it through to the bridge. Best everyone hears it at once.”
“Good call, XO. I’ve got the bridge now,” Commodore Dobbs announced as she entered the bridge.
“Captain has the bridge,” echoed Commander Wright as he moved from the captain’s chair to his own.
Then the link to Freedom came to life, and the Viceroy, Miles Hunt, began to speak.
“This is Viceroy Hunt speaking to you aboard the Freedom. The moment we had hoped to avoid is now upon us. A bridge is being opened from Dominion space, and a fleet is beginning to cross. As our fleet prepares to go into battle—a battle that will determine the fate of the Republic and that of our alliance—I want each of you to remember that we are warriors, forged in battle and united in our fight for freedom and survival against this dastardly race of Zodarks and their insidious cyborg patrons—the Orbots.”
As the Viceroy continued to speak, the TAM began to populate enemy contacts near the anomaly. Fifty-two ships, then eighty-one…one hundred and nineteen…one hundred and eighty-two…
“While the enemy ships may be fierce and they may be numerous, we have something they do not: an alliance willing to stand shoulder to shoulder, united in our shared cause for freedom. As the battle begins in the coming moments, I ask you to dig deep. To find that inner strength and to remember why we fight. Remember your allies and comrades in arms, who stand beside you now, who have chosen to fight with you, and who will die beside you if necessary. Now, get to the fight! And let’s kill ’em all!”
A raucous cheer erupted on the bridge, the spacers coming alive as the adrenaline of the moment kicked in and the Fleet’s orders to attack were given.
Commodore Dobbs turned to her XO. “Commander, you’ve got the bridge. Score me some kills while I handle the squadron. Let’s do this.”
Commander Wright stood from his seat as the commodore moved to her station. As he looked at the TAM, he saw that the number of warships had now risen beyond what he’d thought possible. But then he saw it—a cluster of transports—and suddenly, the numbers didn’t seem so daunting. Not when twenty percent of the fleet was transports. I think those will make nice trophies in the wardroom, he thought devilishly at the prospect of them getting in range of their guns.
“Helm, unless the commodore disagrees, set a course that’ll put us in range of those transports. It’s time to hunt—and I’m hungry.”
Chapter Two
They’re Here
RNS Vanguard
IVO Republic Naval Shipyard
Seeing the enormity of the enemy fleet, which seemed to grow larger with each passing second, Commander Wright wasn’t sure this was a fight they were likely to win. To his amazement, the number of warships continuing to emerge from the wormhole bridge was unsettling. As of now, the TAM system had determined that the enemy fleet was nearly four times the size of their own.
“Damn, we’re going to need more missiles, Commander. That’s what I call a target-rich environment,” Commander Kenji Mitsu remarked jovially as he stood next to Commander Wright.
Grunting at his comment, Wright replied, “Yeah, you’re right, Mitsu. That is one hell of a target-rich environment forming up over there.”
“OK, boss man. How can I best deploy my Gripens and Valkyries where they can make a difference and not get slaughtered?” asked Mitsu, the Vanguard’s Commander, Flight Operations, or fighter boss.
Commander Wright stared at the TAMs for a moment, not saying anything, just watching as more ships crossed into their space. “Honestly, for right now, I’d like to have your pilots hang tight until we have a better idea of what exactly the enemy is up to. I don’t want to have your pilots engaging a target far from home when suddenly we need your people back here to defend the nest, if that makes sense,” Wright explained.
“It makes perfect sense to me, boss. I think I counted six of those Zodark star carriers. I’m still working on getting a good read on how many Orbot carriers we’re dealing with. If I’m not mistaken, the last we had heard, the Zodark carriers held something like six squadrons of fighters and two squadrons of bombers,” Mitsu explained. “If that’s the case, and if their squadron sizes are around the same as ours, then that means we’re looking at ninety-six Vultures and thirty-two Glaives per carrier.”
Wright bunched his eyebrows as his mind crunched the numbers. “Whoa, that’s like five hundred and seventy-six Vultures those carriers are packing.”
“Yeah, and you can add another hundred and ninety-two Glaives. That’s a lot of bombers to contend with,” Mitsu added.
For a moment, neither of them said anything as they stared at the display on the tactical action map. The TAM was continually updating every few seconds as more vessels continued to cross into Sol from wherever they’d come from. Breaking the silence between them, Wright began to explain, “Here’s how I would like to play this, Mitsu. Feel free to chime in if you have a better idea, but here’s what I was thinking.”
Wright placed his finger over a cluster of Zodark vessels the TAM system had identified as orbital landers and heavy assault transports. These were the two main ships they had seen the Zodarks use to conduct orbital landings of ground forces. While he had no idea why the Zodarks had brought along so many transports before they had defeated their fleet, he wasn’t about to stop the enemy from making a critical mistake either.
“This cluster of ships, Mitsu. I don’t know what their plan is, and I don’t know how they plan on trying to muscle those vessels through our battle line to get them into orbit. But I have to think those are probably some pretty juicy targets for your Valkyrie pilots,” Wright explained.
A devilish smile formed along the edges of Mitsu’s mouth. “Yes, Commander, those are some juicy targets for a Valkyrie. I think if we’re going to make a run at them, then maybe we should see if the commodore might be able to help us better coordinate our attack with the Rheinland and Haifa. That would give us six squadrons of fighters and bombers to go after them. But if we did something like that, it would mean leaving the Vanguard, Rheinland, and Haifa unprotected from enemy fighters and bombers until we return or the commodore orders some of those new Neptune-class flak corvettes to better protect you guys.”
The more he thought about what Mitsu had said, the more he thought the plan might work. He sent a quick ping to Dobbs to see if she could join them for a moment and soon saw her out of the periphery of his vision, making her way over to them. After he and Mitsu explained their idea to her, she agreed; attacking the transports with all three of the battleship squadrons made sense. If their bombers were to have any hope of survival in attacking those transports, they were going to need every one of those ninety-six Gripens to cut a path through what would likely be a pretty thick wave of Vultures protecting their flock.
“That’s a good plan, Commanders. Good job thinking this one up. I’m going to direct the Rheinland and Haifa’s C-FLOs to coordinate when to begin launching your squadrons and when to begin your attack. My advice is to hold off on deploying your fighters until we officially know what the Zodarks are up to with those transports,” Dobbs explained. “The last thing you want to do is deploy your squadrons only to discover their fleet is moving more rapidly in a different direction.”
“Roger that, ma’am. I’ll contact the other flight bosses, and we’ll figure it out,” Mitsu assured her, a serious look affixed to his face as he returned to his seat on the bridge.
The commodore returned to her side station, where she and two other staff officers sat close together. This was a designated section to the rear of the bridge that had been set up to allow a squadron or fleet commander to have a presence on the bridge without directly interfering with the daily operations of the ship.
Then a voice cut through his thoughts, bringing Wright back to the here and now. “Commander, engines have reached maximum thrust. The current time to intercept the enemy fleet is two hours and forty-three minutes,” announced helmsman Ensign Godley.
“Thank you, Ensign. In two hours, reduce the power to the engines by fifty percent and stand by for evasive maneuvers. It’s very likely the enemy fleet will get underway shortly, and we’ll have to start reacting to their moves,” Wright directed, making sure his helmsman knew what to expect once the enemy got on the move.
“Aye, Commander, reducing power to the engines by fifty percent in two hours. Will stand ready to take evasive maneuvers,” Godley replied, confirming the orders.
“Bridge, CIC. We’re receiving new data from the Freedom,” interrupted Commander Quinn Dildine from the combat information center located in the sealed room to the left of the bridge. “The Orbots look to be forming a battle line facing the Freedom and the Altairian fleet. It’s still unknown what the Zodarks are up to. Presently, it would appear they’re moving into some sort of protective ring with their fleet of transports anchoring in the center.”
“Commander, TAO. The Zodark battleships and star carriers are beginning to deploy their fighters…um, I’m sorry, this is a bit strange, what I’m seeing. If I’m reading this correctly, it looks like they’re holding their bombers back—it’s just fighters they’re launching. Lots and lots of Vultures,” reported Lieutenant Commander Maggie Little from the tactical action station or TAS. This was the part of the bridge where the TAO or tactical action officer oversaw the pairs of officers and NCOs who managed and directed the ship’s offensive and defensive weapon systems.
What are these Zodarks up to…? Wright thought to himself as he studied the enemy ship formations on the TAMs.
“Thanks, TAO, that is odd, what the Zodarks are doing. It’s counter to how we’ve seen them fight us in the past. Let’s stay ready for however they intend on using them against us,” replied Wright. He tapped his comms unit, replying to CIC, “Thank you, Commander Dildine. Keep me apprised of anything else from the Freedom.”
He then turned to face his tactical action officer, zeroing in on Maggie. “TAO, what’s the status of turret three? You were just up there before all this started. Why is it showing red?”
He still hadn’t been told why one of their main guns was down and hadn’t been repaired.
Commander Little finished typing something before looking at Wright. “Sorry about that, Commander. They had to swap out one of the targeting computers for a new one. It seems to have taken some damage during a previous fight and only now decided to start acting up. It’s going to take them another”—she paused a second as she checked the time—“four minutes for the reboot to finish. Don’t worry, sir, it’ll be operational and ready to fight when we need it.”
Wright nodded appreciatively, thankful it wasn’t something more serious that might have deadlined the gun. The last thing he needed was a primary weapon out of the fight before it even started. It was bad enough they hadn’t had enough time to do a proper repair to the damage they had already sustained in the earlier battles when they had defeated the first Zodark invasion fleet.
“I’m transferring the display tactical action map to the main monitor,” announced Commander Little. Moments later, the giant bridge monitor showed a map rendering of the battle lines as the opposing forces continued to converge on each other’s positions.
Staring at the map, Wright had to make sure he didn’t let his jaw fall to the floor at the sheer size of the battle shaping up. The number of enemy warships that had crossed the Orbots’ wormhole bridge was astronomical. He had thought the Second Battle of Alfheim, the battle that had ended the First Zodark War, had seen a lot of warships, but what he saw before them was beyond what he had thought possible. He’d never seen so many Zodark and Orbot warships in one place. Then, a sick feeling formed in the pit of his stomach as he ran the numbers in his head, concluding they were outnumbered—four to one. Those were not good odds, considering he had counted at least six Zodark star carriers and fourteen Zodark base stars. My God, how many fighters are with those carriers?
Then he heard Commodore Dobbs’s voice. “Listen up, people! I want everyone to stop what they’re doing and look at me,” she exclaimed forcefully. Everyone on the bridge paused what they were doing and looked in her direction.
Commander Wright briefly made eye contact with her before she looked away to another crew member. He could tell in that brief moment when she had held his gaze that this was it. This battle here and now might be their last.
“Well, clearly, someone spilled the beans on the surprise party we were having in Sol and decided to crash the party and join in. But all kidding aside, people, this fight that’s shaping up—this is the big one. The one we had hoped would never come, but unfortunately for us, it has. When we go into battle, I need everyone to remember something. Behind our battle line—is everything! Earth, our families, our friends, our past, present, and future are down on that beautiful blue glassy marble in space. I know it may seem overwhelming right now, seeing how many warships they have in comparison to ours. But we have something they don’t—resolve. This fight…it’s for everything, people. If the enemy wins here, if they defeat our battle line—Earth will be next.
“Everyone knows what the Zodarks do with us humans. They enslave us, and they breed us like livestock. That is not a fate I would wish on even my worst enemies. When we go into battle, I want everyone to focus exclusively on their task. Do not allow yourself to get distracted by what’s happening around you or within the fleet. Just focus on your task and make sure we’re destroying the enemy. Oh, and one more thing. The Viceroy just informed me that we have a Gallentine fleet on their way to our position. That’s all I know—I don’t know how many warships they’re bringing or how powerful they are. But the Viceroy shared that at least one of the Freedom’s sister ships is part of this fleet that’s on its way. So dig deep, people, and find that inner strength that’ll get you through the coming hours and days. You’re going to need it,” Dobbs finished, a moment of silence settling across the bridge as the gravity of her words set in.
“Thank you, Commodore. For reminding us why we fight and what’s behind the battle lines we’ve formed,” Commander Wright finally replied, breaking the silence across the bridge. Turning serious, he looked to his bridge crew. “TAO, I’m going to need you to stay on top of coordinating our offensive and defensive weapons. It’s going to be on you and your NCOs to keep Weps flush with fresh targets for his gun crews. You’ve also got to keep those fighters and bombers off our backs as much as possible. It’s unlikely we’re going to have friendly fighters to call upon for help. Coordinate your efforts with the flak corvettes if you can, and make sure you’re also syncing your efforts up with Lieutenant Luther and his electronic warfare team.
“EWO, we’re going to rely on your team to jam the enemy. Force them to get in close to get a lock on us. Do what you can to make it hard to track us or gain a solid lock on us, and make sure you’re coordinating your efforts with Lieutenant Latter and his weapons section. Got it?” Wright asked as he made eye contact with his electronic warfare officer.
“We’re on it, sir, you can count on us,” came the quick reply from Lieutenant Luther. Wright nodded, knowing there wasn’t anything more he could do other than wait until the enemy decided how they wanted to attack.
Continuing to observe Lieutenant Luther, he wished he had had more time to get to know their new EW officer. Luther had come aboard as a replacement for the previous EW officer, who had been killed during the earlier Zodark invasion. It was the same with Lieutenant Latter, the ship’s new weapons officer. He had come over as a replacement from the supercarrier Ark Royal, which had been destroyed.
Lieutenant Latter had been among the crew who had been lucky enough to abandon ship when Admiral Halsey had given the order. With the majority of the crew off the ship, she had turned the burning wreck into a flaming missile as she’d plowed the supercarrier into that giant Zodark vessel. Had she not sacrificed her ship, they might not have destroyed that large, ugly-looking Zodark vessel. Whatever that ungodly thing was called, the Zodarks had clearly found some former Humtar technology, like the wormhole generator that granted the ability to cross and bridge vast distances across space, and integrated it into the ship.
“Bridge, CIC. Sir, it looks like the Zodarks are beginning to move. Their speeds and trajectories will have them pass near our positions within the next two hours. They’re heading for Earth, along with what we’ve now determined to be sixty-two transport vessels,” announced Commander Dildine from the ship’s combat information center.
Wright took a breath in as he steadied his nerves. “OK, this is it. The Zodarks are making their move. It’s time we made ours. Helm, let’s get the engines back to maximum power and set a course to intercept those transports.”
*******
RNS Freedom
IVO Luna and Earth
Captain Ethan Hunt, call sign Paladin, couldn’t believe what was happening. Less than two weeks after the Zodark invasion force had been defeated and their newest warship destroyed, Sol, his home system, was being invaded once more.
Our people haven’t even had the time to bury the dead before we’re being invaded a second time in as many weeks…
The weak state of his people, of humanity, the fact that they could be preyed upon—it grated against his very being. He knew it grated against his father, Miles, the Gallentine-appointed Viceroy and Commander of the Galactic Empire of the Milky Way, just as much. Yet humanity seemed to be caught behind a perpetual galactic eight ball. While humans had proven their mettle in battle and their ferocity was without question, they were a young spacefaring people who hadn’t had enough time or industrial capacity to build the quantities of warships necessary to be considered a great power—able to defend their own space without the assistance of other great powers.
“Paladin, Flight Ops, stand by for the launch,” came the voice of Commander Gene Battaglia. Gene was the head of Flight Operations aboard the RNS Freedom. A former Gripen pilot, Gene, call sign Lucifer, had lost both of his legs during the Second Battle of Sirius, or Alfheim, depending on the branch you served in.
Days after Ethan had lost his own Gripen in that desperate battle with Zodark Vultures and troop landers above Earth, he’d found himself, like many other fighterless pilots, reassigned to the RNS Freedom the moment the fighting from the first invasion had subsided. The day he’d come aboard the Freedom, his mentor, Rear Admiral Aaron “Warhawk” Blade, and his Gallentine friend and instructor pilot, Commander Takmahl, had welcomed him home, almost like he had never left.
Within hours of Ethan’s coming aboard the Freedom, Warhawk had placed him in command of the newly formed 13th Strike Wing. With the influx of pilots and a recent reorganization of the ships’ fighter and bomber wings, a new formation had been created—strike wings. A strike wing would now consist of five squadrons of twenty-four Hellcats, two squadrons of twenty-four Devastators, and a support squadron with search and recovery elements in the form of six Osprey-SRs and ten Osprey-EWs or electronic warfare birds.
“All Hellcats, stand by for launch in three…two…one…launch!”
Ethan felt the Hellcat shudder like a beast awakening, and then the levitating starfighter was hurled overtop the magnetic rails that shot his fighter through the tube with ferocious speed. The light within the launch tube blurred momentarily before he was spat out into the cold, vast expanse of space.
With the Hellcat now clear of its mother ship, Ethan immersed himself into the persona of his call sign, Paladin, forgetting about the rest of the world. He gave his engines more power, moving further away from the Freedom, allowing his sensors to come alive and populate his scanners with usable data. Orienting himself quickly, he watched as his sensors painted a picture of the battle still growing in intensity.
Turning the Hellcat in the direction of the battle, he caught his first glimpse of what they had just been catapulted into. Ahead of them, the void was alive with the deadly dance of war—capital ships from both alliances maneuvered into varying battle lines that displayed graceful formations of lethal killing machines. On one side, the Orbot and Zodark warships of the Dominion Alliance formed two lines—one acting as a defensive line to screen for neatly formed-up lines of Zodark transport ships, while the other, a more traditional battle line of warships, appeared bent on engaging a single target—the Freedom.
On the other side of the growing battlefield was the formation of Republic, Primord, Tully, and Altairian warships—a mixed formation of varying capabilities, yet all determined in their resolve to defeat this Orbot-led force once and for all. Then, like a switch had been flipped, lethal arcs of light, flashes as brief as a blink, crossed the distance between the battle lines. Hulls were instantly scarred, gashes opened in warships, and geysers of flames and atmospheric fluids erupted from newly torn rents in the armor of ships on both sides.
The awe-inspiring scene unfolding before Paladin was suddenly shattered by the sharp crackle of the comms. “Paladin, Warhawk. Lucky Thirteen is weapons-free. You are to intercept and interdict those Zodark transports—do not allow them to land more ground forces on the surface. How copy?
Ethan activated his comms. “Warhawk, Paladin. Good copy all. Proceeding to target now. Out.” He then hopped over to the comms of the squadron with which he’d chosen to fly this maiden combat mission—the Fifth Squadron Thunder Chickens. “Thunder Chickens, this is Paladin. Form up on me and stay tight. We’re going to close the gap on those transports, slice our way through that outer perimeter of escorts, and wreak havoc amongst those troop landers,” he commanded, his voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through his veins.
He heard a chorus of acknowledgments before turning to look to his right, then left, catching glimpses of distinct silhouettes of the other Hellcats falling into formation. Their engines glowed like the eyes of predators in the darkness around them. He was glad he had chosen his first mission as wing commander to fly with the Thunder Chickens. They were an eclectic crew, castoffs and mavericks, each with their own story and their own reasons for being here. Guys like Lieutenant Bob “Dawg” Larkin, Lieutenant Robert “Ace” Duncan, and Lieutenant Alex “Glory” Hammer—names with checkered pasts, pilots with something to prove.
“That’s a lot of Vultures, Paladin,” came the nervous voice of Lieutenant John “Dagger” Doris—his wingman.
Glancing at the display in the center of his controls, Paladin saw the formations of Zodark fighters. They were layered thick, spread into what looked like multiple waves waiting to be thrown against a target. “It is, Dagger. It’s also an opportunity for many of you to become aces today.”
Ethan could imagine a few pilots chuckling at that. At least, he hoped they were. The Gallentine starfighters were far more advanced than anything the Zodarks or even the Orbots fielded. You weren’t invincible in a Hellcat, but you were harder to kill, and that counted for something.
A few minutes into their flight, Paladin adjusted his grip on the controls, his fingers dancing over the smooth, cold buttons with practiced ease as he readied his weapons. He stretched his fingers and cracked his knuckles. The cockpit was his sanctuary, a place where the complexities of command gave way to the clarity of flight and combat—survival a final test of his skill.
While they approached the coming maelstrom, Paladin could see the Sherpas and Wardogs speeding ahead of them towards the swarm of Vultures attempting to intercept his Thunder Chickens and Legends. He knew somewhere behind them, his final squadron of fighters—the Green Dragons—would be the final wave of escorts leading the Ugly Angels and Mighty Shrikes close enough to unleash their deadly barrage of plasma torpedoes into the convoy of giant transport vessels. While his Devastator bombers focused on the transports, his fighters would tear into the smaller troop landers.
“Heads up, Chickens. Those frigates and cruisers are moving to engage us,” came the voice of Commander Ada “Kraut” Spier, the Fifth Squadron commander, breaking his concentration.
Paladin pushed his Hellcat into a steep dive toward a frigate turning to starboard, its laser batteries shooting in the direction of his fighters. Instantly, the space around him erupted in brilliant steeks of light, warning alarms blaring, the rhythmic tap-tap-tap sound of his guns firing, high-energy bursts stabbing into the hull of the frigate.
When the Hellcat whipped past the Zodark frigate, Paladin found himself staring at a convoy of giant transport vessels disgorging troop landers as they approached the outer orbit of Earth. Rising from low orbit were strings of red tracer fire, blotting landers that came within range of what few Sentinel towers remained.
“Thunder Chickens, engage at will. Focus on the landers and leave the transports,” ordered Paladin. He zeroed in on a pair of landers disembarking a nearby transport.
Depressing the firing stud, he could see his blaster shots plowing into the lander, the high-energy bolts ripping gashes open to the vacuum of space. Pulling back hard on his flight controls, he felt the immediate deceleration of the Hellcat as he turned his starfighter to his left, his guns coming to bear on the lander he had previously hit. Mashing the firing stud once more, he sent a barrage of blaster bolts into the lander—causing it to explode in a brilliant flash of flame and crumpled debris.
Flooding his engine with power, Paladin felt it lurch forward moments before the inertial dampener kicked in, absorbing the g-forces that would crush his body when his starfighter sprang forward at thousands of meters per second.
Finding another target, he zeroed in with guns, sending a burst from his blasters that stitched the side of the lander multiple times before ripping a meters-wide gash along its troop compartment—figures being sucked into the vacuum of space before the lander exploded.
“Paladin, Kraut, there’s too many of them. It’s like they’re flooding the zone for some reason—like this is a one-way trip for them,” voiced one of the squadron commanders for the Thunder Chickens on the command net.
“Paladin, Snowman, I’m down three Sherpas. These Vultures are flying suicidal,” came another reply from the commander of First Squadron.
Paladin cut in before more of his squadron commanders could voice their two cents. “All Lucky elements, Paladin. Cut the chatter. The Zodarks want a one-way trip. Fine, make sure it’s a one-way trip to hell. Now kill ’em all and shut up! Paladin out,” he said, ending the brief ass-chewing, not happy with their complaining in the middle of a fight.
Focus on what’s in front of you—not why the enemy is doing it, he told himself, then fired that thought off as a message to his squadron commanders.
Zeroing in on another group of landers, he watched the transport level out, the landers disembarking from their docking clamps moments later. Paladin smiled. He watched the landers descend right into his targeting reticle and depressed the firing stud.
We hope you are enjoying the book so far. To continue reading...
