Conflagration

Miss Sophie's Roar

Jon "Sledge" Sanjeev had only been promoted to the rank of Major in charge of Third Law's airborne forces a few days ago when his predecessor, Tolbert, had won election to colonel. Under his command, he had eight fighter squads consisting of a total of 16 fighters and four heavy gunships. Well, he would if Col. Tolbert would do her job and leave him to do his.

This was his first operation in his new command, and Sledge really wanted to be the one to capture that escaped civvie hardpointer. It annoyed him that Tolbert, rather than returning to headquarters and coordinating all of Third Law's operations, was up here in a fighter trying to micromanage his command. She seemed unable to let someone else do her old job. But he had one chance to beat her to the punch.

Col. Tolbert had ordered Squads 7 and 8 to lay in wait for the hardpointer as it came around the planet and then launch all of their EMPs at it. Of course, Tolbert had known that this was likely to be rear-echelon operation and she thought she was putting Sledge aside. The real action was likely to be in the chase of the stolen hardpointer which Col. Tolbert was leading personally. But not if Sledge succeeded in his objective.

Sledge's ambush force consisted of four fighters and his own gunship. The fighters had one EMP each and his gunship had two. The colonel had ordered them to launch all 6 of their EMPs at the hardpointer as soon as they got a target lock. So, they maneuvered themselves to the far side of the planet and waited for the rogue freighter to come around.

They didn't have to wait long. Mere minutes after the ambush force got into position, an alert popped up on the gunship's cockpit tactical display. Before he even looked at it closely, Sledge immediately transferred the target information to the four fighters, knowing his gunship had superior targeting scanners.

"That's our bandit," Sledge called out over the radio. "Remember: EMPs only. I'll kill the cowboy that blows up our paycheck. Read me?"

All four fighter pilots acknowledge his order.

"Almost in range," Sledge said.

"Good God! That can't be a freighter, can it? Look how fast it's moving," one of the fighter pilots said.

Sledge took a closer look at the bandit's data and saw that its speed was reading at 21milliC.

"No, that can't be our target. No freighter can move that fast," said another of the pilots.

Sledge had to make a decision and he had to make it fast. There was no chance this thing could be a freighter, but his own scanners were identifying it as a freighter. He suspected some kind of subterfuge. Possibly, it could be a missile which had been rigged to emit a freighter's scan cross section. If he fired all of their EMPs at whatever this fast-mover was and it turned out not to be their actual target, they wouldn't have any in reserve when the real freighter showed up. But Tolbert had ordered them to fire all their EMPs. Sledge had flown with Tolbert long enough to know she was crazy enough to kill him if he made the wrong decision.

"Major, whatcha want us to do?"

Fuck Tolbert. She might be the C.O., but this is my detail. "Squad Seven, take your shots. EMPs only. Eight, hold your fire."

"Roger that," said both pilots from Squad 7. They must have both been itching to fire. They both fired almost instantly. The missiles looked like two shooting stars as they trailed away into the darkness of space. Within seconds, they were beyond visual range, so Sledge was obliged to watch them on his scanner display. It was taking a painfully long time for the missiles to close on the fast-moving bandit, but they were gradually closing.

* * *

Col. Tolbert was in her element again. If she were honest, she preferred being in the cockpit to being in the command center. Here, she didn't have to be the paper-pushing, chart-studying, Fourther-placating Col. Tolbert. Here, in the cockpit of an AF-28 Darklander fighter, she could just be the ace pilot she was born to be with the ironic callsign of "Lefty."