The air wing departed Oleander and took up position ahead of their carrier. Oleander’s shields were up, its weapons charged. If they could achieve a weapon’s lock, all 14 of the ship’s batteries were prepared to fire. Scarecrow had the squadron form up with himself taking point, the other five birds lined up behind him in a delta formation. Shere-Khan was third seat, followed by his squadron leader. They waited for their quarry to arrive.
Their wait was short-lived. Twenty minutes later, sensors picked up a bogey on approach.
“SO, scan that target. Do your sensors detect anything other than what we saw in the briefing?”
“Not that I can tell, Sir,” MacPherson said. “Its configuration is identical.”
“WSO–comments?”
“Do you remember the old Oldsmobile Cutlass television commercials in the 1970s?”
“Sorry. That was a little before my time.”
“The tagline was, ‘Cutlass S–yeah, they built one for me.’ Well, it appears the snakeheads built one for you, Commander. Especially for you.”
Scarecrow sighed. “That’s what I was afraid of …” He watched the enemy approach on his navigational display. “Lieutenant, can you tell whether they’re using MFD power to boost their shields and weapons?”
“Doesn’t appear to be the case, Sir. I’m reading over twice the number of zero-point collectors, and they’re all larger than average for an enemy TR saucer.”
“So, increased size–more power?”
“Aye, Sir.”
“Larger power output explains the stronger shields, more powerful weapons, and greater maneuvering capabilities.”
“And don’t forget the extra hull armor,” Williams said.
“Sounds like they’ve built themselves a hot rod. My guess is, that thing’s got a ‘hemi.’”
Williams chuckled. “They have themselves a 426 Dodge Charger. So it remains to be seen if our SS 396 Chevelles can handle it.”
“At their current speed, they’re less than five minutes out.” Scarecrow switched to the squadron common frequency. “Oleander Air Wing, Tactical One. Prepare to implement attack pattern pinwheel, over.”
“Tactical Two copies, over,” Hutch replied. The other TR-3Bs sounded off.
“Scarecrow, Hutch. You said you preferred a frontal assault to skulking around in the shadows. Looks like you got your wish, over.”
The enemy reached them, and stopped 150 miles away.
“It’s transmitting, Sir,” MacPherson said. “‘Which–is– bird–frightener?’ …”
Scarecrow eased his bird forward, until he was midway, where he stopped and began to rotate his TR-3B in a vertical arc.
“Sir, we’re being painted.”
“Shields, SO.”
“It’s not tactical, Sir. It’s some form of scan. Probably to mark us so they can distinguish us from the rest of the air wing.”
“Scarecrow, Hutch. Just like in those old Gary Cooper movies. The Marshall and Black Bart out on the street at high noon, sizing each other up, over.”
Scarecrow ignored Hutch’s assessment. “Oleander Air Wing, Tactical One. On my mark, over,” he said. The seconds crawled by, then–
“Mark!”
The six Solar Warden craft shot forward into their pinwheel configuration, but the enemy didn’t wait for them to complete the formation. It lunged towards them and fired on two targets at once, striking Scarecrow and Shere-Khan as it passed them. Scarecrow’s TR-3B shuddered as it was struck.
“Shields?” Scarecrow asked, his voice frantic.
“Shields holding, Sir!” MacPherson reported. “But they’re weakened. I’ll need to draw power from another system to firm them up.”
“Take it from the cloaking system, Lieutenant.”
“Transferring power from the cloak, aye.”
“Oleander Air Wing, Tactical One. Activate stealth. It’ll make targeting us more difficult.”
The air wing complied as it swung back and pursued their target. Once again, the enemy didn’t give them a chance to complete their formation, but continued to dart back and forth, firing at all six birds, hitting them only periodically as a result of their stealth systems. Williams managed to strike the enemy several times, but his efforts were frustrated by the augmented shields and ablative armor.
“She’s a tough nut to crack,” Williams said as he targeted, achieved a weapons lock and fired once more.
“Oleander Air Wing, Tactical One. Attack pattern raven, over,” Scarecrow ordered.
The black triangles then began swinging around and firing at the enemy in succession, the way a murder of crows would attack a raptor. Each time one of them would open fire, the enemy would react in an unexpected fashion–targeting and firing on a Solar Warden bird other than the one that was targeting it, attempting to confuse the group.
“Scarecrow, Shere-Khan. Let’s try to draw him closer to Oleander. If she can get a clean shot, Black Bart won’t be able to withstand the power output of her gun batteries, over.”
“Roger that. Oleander, Aurora Tactical One. We’re bringing the bandit to you. If you can achieve weapons lock, recommend you take the shot, over.”
“Aurora Tactical One, Flight. Message received. Will comply, over.”
The Oleander air wing proceeded to draw the enemy craft towards the Solar Warden carrier. The carrier turned and approached their position, its batteries spinning to target the saucer. Anticipating their strategy, the enemy began flitting around the Solar Warden birds, attempting to remain out of Oleander’s line of fire, targeting her tiercels as it did. Scarecrow and the others managed numerous weapons strikes on the enemy saucer, but every hit failed to penetrate the successful combination of enhanced shields and reinforced hull.
Suddenly, Scarecrow’s bird was hit. There was a tremendous explosion in the crew compartment. His bird tumbled out of control, heading for Oleander. It struck the carrier’s shields and glanced off, continuing in a wild spin as it careened away from Oleander. Scarecrow fought to right his bird, and finally managed to wrestle it under control. However, by the time the damaged TR-3B stopped spinning, he’d lost all flight capabilities.
He was dead in space.
“Tactical One, Tactical Two. Respond, over,” Hutch called over the comm.
“Tactical Two, Tactical One. We’re hit … attempting to assess damage now, over.” Scarecrow scanned his displays to see how bad they were. Many were flickering, some were blank.
“SO, status report.”
No reply.
“Stacey! Status report!”
Still nothing.
“WSO, status report.”
“Um … I’m hit,” Williams said. “Don’t know how bad … can’t feel my right leg. Ahh … MFD offline. Looks like we’re venting plasma. Only partial helm control. No juice to push us, though… shields offline. Weapons still active, but no targeting capabilities. Damage is extensive, Sir…”
Scarecrow focused on his tactical display, one of the few systems still functional. He was attempting to see what was transpiring around them. The five remaining TR-3Bs were still flying, attempting to draw the enemy saucer away from Scarecrow’s position …
When the unthinkable happened.
Hutch was hit by a shower of enemy fire, and his TR-3B exploded. When the blast cleared, one corner of the black triangle was gone. MFD plasma sprayed in a spiral arc around the wounded bird as it spun out of control, the jagged edge of the gaping hole sparking and popping as it did.
“Hutch!” Scarecrow screamed into the comm. “Aurora Tactical Two! Come in, over! Aurora Tactical Two, respond, over! Aurora Tactical Two, do you read, over? Aurora Tac–
“Come in Hutch!”