War of Alien Aggression 2 Kamikaze Read Online Free Page B
Author: A.D. Bloom
him. When they were on liberty, Biko still drank in the enlisted bars after he left the officers' clubs.
Ram envied him for being liked. Ram had always been management and nobody ever liked him for it. Ram was sure Biko knew that he envied him because once, at the back end of a bottle, he told Ram how the enlisted crew talked smack about the company officers plenty, but he'd heard more than a few of them say Ram was, 'one of the good ones'. Ram smiled. It felt good for a few seconds anyway. Then, Biko knocked back a shot and told him about how his 92-year-old white-power grandma used to use the same damn phrase when she talked about her Nigerian doctor.
Chapter Five
Asa Biko called out the new contacts. "Multiple bogies coming around the limb of the gas giant. Bearing 148 by 035, 52,000 Ks out and closing fast."
Harry Cozen said, "Don't call them 'bogies'. Call them 'bandits', please, Mr. Biko. A bogie is what you call it when you don't know what it is. After six days of unceasing battle, I think we can be fairly sure any contact we see is the enemy."
"Bandits, then, Mr. Cozen. Bandits at 148 low." As Biko zoomed in so the display projected in the air over the bridge showed the incoming contacts more clearly, Harry Cozen leaned forward in the chair. The Squidies' warheads flew in echelon like geese, but in a cone.
Ram thumbed the squack from the Ops console. "Multiple bandits inbound. Damage control teams, standby."
"Lt. Commander Sellis," Cozen said, "open all remaining forward bays and commit our last Dingoes to the fight."
Opening the bay doors was like taking them off a leash. The QF-111 fighter drones shot out into space and their canine artificial intelligences wanted nothing more than to hunt down enemy bombs and bandits and chew them to hell with their autocannon. A tenth of a second out of the bay, they fixed on the incoming contacts. They noted a lack of friendly IFF transponders, and Hardway's last 24 drones gleefully rocketed off for the chase.
" Hardway AT to junk Flights One, Three, and Five: vampires at 148. Scramble! Scramble! Scramble! All gunnery junks scramble!"
Out the windows of the bridge you could see down onto the primary launch bay module where the topside doors now opened. The junks filled the bays with fire before they punched out hard and fast, maneuvering on directed thrust from their outboard nacelles. They launched from bays to port and starboard and off Hardway 's keel with their 4x140mm guns already swiveling in their turrets. In seconds, eighteen gunnery-junks had formed up and headed off to intercept the aliens' flying bombs in three flights of six.
" Dutch Girl to Hardway . How many inbound contacts are bombs?"
"I've got 176 returns on LiDAR, all warheads."
"Where are the alien fighters?" That's all Dutch Girl wanted to know.
The red-hulled alien fighters came over the South polar vortex this time. The six red bandits flew close to the thin outer atmo and it was as if something about their engines or maybe their reactors' emissions made the lightning flash in the blue clouds beneath them as they came. "Alien drones closing from low orbit over the south polar region." Biko said, "If they maintain speed and heading, then they'll intercept our drones just after they get in range to start shooting down those warheads."
"Prepare to commit our reserves," Ram said.
"Are you sure, Mr. Devlin?"
"Mr. Cozen, Half our defensive guns are gone and the junks and the drones we've got deployed now can't shoot down all those alien warheads if they're busy dodging those fighters."
"All 223 Squadron junks standby to scramble," Biko ordered. 223 Squadron were Hardway 's orphans - the remaining junks from Flights 2, 4 and 6, the ones that had lost too many junks to remain combat effective.
The Dingoes had already blasted off and left the gunnery junks behind them. On the AT Controller's projected tactical display, the blurry-edged, green region surrounding the Dingoes
Ram envied him for being liked. Ram had always been management and nobody ever liked him for it. Ram was sure Biko knew that he envied him because once, at the back end of a bottle, he told Ram how the enlisted crew talked smack about the company officers plenty, but he'd heard more than a few of them say Ram was, 'one of the good ones'. Ram smiled. It felt good for a few seconds anyway. Then, Biko knocked back a shot and told him about how his 92-year-old white-power grandma used to use the same damn phrase when she talked about her Nigerian doctor.
Chapter Five
Asa Biko called out the new contacts. "Multiple bogies coming around the limb of the gas giant. Bearing 148 by 035, 52,000 Ks out and closing fast."
Harry Cozen said, "Don't call them 'bogies'. Call them 'bandits', please, Mr. Biko. A bogie is what you call it when you don't know what it is. After six days of unceasing battle, I think we can be fairly sure any contact we see is the enemy."
"Bandits, then, Mr. Cozen. Bandits at 148 low." As Biko zoomed in so the display projected in the air over the bridge showed the incoming contacts more clearly, Harry Cozen leaned forward in the chair. The Squidies' warheads flew in echelon like geese, but in a cone.
Ram thumbed the squack from the Ops console. "Multiple bandits inbound. Damage control teams, standby."
"Lt. Commander Sellis," Cozen said, "open all remaining forward bays and commit our last Dingoes to the fight."
Opening the bay doors was like taking them off a leash. The QF-111 fighter drones shot out into space and their canine artificial intelligences wanted nothing more than to hunt down enemy bombs and bandits and chew them to hell with their autocannon. A tenth of a second out of the bay, they fixed on the incoming contacts. They noted a lack of friendly IFF transponders, and Hardway's last 24 drones gleefully rocketed off for the chase.
" Hardway AT to junk Flights One, Three, and Five: vampires at 148. Scramble! Scramble! Scramble! All gunnery junks scramble!"
Out the windows of the bridge you could see down onto the primary launch bay module where the topside doors now opened. The junks filled the bays with fire before they punched out hard and fast, maneuvering on directed thrust from their outboard nacelles. They launched from bays to port and starboard and off Hardway 's keel with their 4x140mm guns already swiveling in their turrets. In seconds, eighteen gunnery-junks had formed up and headed off to intercept the aliens' flying bombs in three flights of six.
" Dutch Girl to Hardway . How many inbound contacts are bombs?"
"I've got 176 returns on LiDAR, all warheads."
"Where are the alien fighters?" That's all Dutch Girl wanted to know.
The red-hulled alien fighters came over the South polar vortex this time. The six red bandits flew close to the thin outer atmo and it was as if something about their engines or maybe their reactors' emissions made the lightning flash in the blue clouds beneath them as they came. "Alien drones closing from low orbit over the south polar region." Biko said, "If they maintain speed and heading, then they'll intercept our drones just after they get in range to start shooting down those warheads."
"Prepare to commit our reserves," Ram said.
"Are you sure, Mr. Devlin?"
"Mr. Cozen, Half our defensive guns are gone and the junks and the drones we've got deployed now can't shoot down all those alien warheads if they're busy dodging those fighters."
"All 223 Squadron junks standby to scramble," Biko ordered. 223 Squadron were Hardway 's orphans - the remaining junks from Flights 2, 4 and 6, the ones that had lost too many junks to remain combat effective.
The Dingoes had already blasted off and left the gunnery junks behind them. On the AT Controller's projected tactical display, the blurry-edged, green region surrounding the Dingoes
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