Free War of Alien Aggression 3 Lancer by A.D. Bloom

abandoned and more than a little uneasy – Jordo in particular because with them MIA, he and his 2nd Lieutenant’s bars were in charge.
    The Lancers waited in the cockpits of their Bitzers in four different launch bays, dead-quiet on comms. On the other side of the launch bay doors the breaching ship opened the last transit. It would stay one system back while Hardway made the trip to 211-Lovis and attacked the Squidies far behind the current battle-lines of the Sirius front. Today's target was 36 light years from Earth.
    Cozen's voice came across all comms channels and the ship-wide squack: " Hardway will engage enemy cruisers on the near side of the gas giant's planetary system while a force group designated Hobo inserts to the fourth moon, currently on the planet's far side. Hardway took the long way 'round to get here and we are deep, deep in Indian country – so far back behind the lines that the Squidies will probably be surprised to see us. But don't expect them to be rear echelon pushovers. Data from a spybird in orbit confirms a full squadron of twenty-four red bandit fighters stationed on the fourth moon. Keeping them occupied while our people insert and extract will be critical to the success of this operation. The 4th moon is Squidy's moon. He guards it heavy and if there's fighters all over it, then we can't land a junk. Good luck and good hunting. That is all."
    The bay doors parted and the Lovis system's red light flooded the bay. 211-Lovis was a dim star in the visible spectrum, but Jordo's flight helmet translated its infrared brilliance into a spectacle his eyes could apprehend. That star's rays extended in shafts through thin dust spread across the inner system and seemed to keep going forever.
    Hardway closed on the fifth planet out, a gas giant, fat and swollen. The top layers were cool and dark, but where the clouds broke, hellish heat seeped out from the layers underneath in radiant beams that shifted with that planet's hurricane winds.
    Jordo's helmet drew false-scale wireframes over enemy defense satellites it saw against the banded clouds just before Hardway's railgun batteries opened up on them. Hypervelocity impacts turned the satellites to brilliant crimson and green plasma blooms. "Now, that is some real scenic shit," Gusher said.
    When the flashes around and across the face of the giant planet were over and every alien satellite Hardway saw on active radar and LiDAR had been removed from the sky, Jordo heard the coded call go out on general comms, "Night train, night train."
    "All railgun batteries, hold your fire."
    Now that the enemy couldn't see the far side of the planet with their satellites anymore, Hardway launched its junks. Asa Biko's voice came over comms. "This is Hardway AT. Junk flights 1 through 15, launch. Scramble. Scramble." They blasted out bays above and below and on either side of the Lancers, vectoring plasma out their four, outboard nacelles and their primary thrusters. The gunnery junks went out in six flights of 3 to take up defensive positions around the carrier with their 140mm autocannon turrets. The torpedo junks formed up to Hardway's starboard rear. They were fitted out like assault bombers and carried four, enormous warspite torpedoes each instead of the gunnery module.
    " Hardway AT to all Hobo elements, you look good on our scans. Standby... 133rd...Lancers, prepare to scramble and deploy as planned. Lancer 2-1, you and your wingman will lead the Dingo QF-111s in for initial contact. All Lancers scramble and engage war mode. Scramble, scramble. All 111 launch bay crews, standby to loose the Dingoes on Lancer 2-1's mark. Repeat, Lancer 2-1 has the leash."
    The calls came in a dozen at a time over Lancer squadron comms. "What the hell is 'war mode'?"
    "War mode?"
    "Jordo, what's he mean?"
    "He means the big red button! Mash it!" Jordo slammed it with his fist. The vibrations from the F-151's inertial negation system shook him so fast that his whole body buzzed.