stay low till the medic gets to you. This is almost over."
Almost over, Joe thought. Then, for several seconds, he hovered near the edge of unconsciousness. But he didn't fall, and he was brought back from the brink by a hand on his right arm and Al Bergon's voice.
"I'm here, Sarge. Hang tough. This doesn't look too bad."
—|—
Zel had ceased to have any awareness of his body. He was simply part of his Wasp, a command and control nodule acting and reacting. His hands and feet on the controls were merely cogs in the intricate machinery. They were no more or less part of him than the 25mm cannons, the batteries, or the antigrav drives. Eyes and ears collected data. His brain processed it and produced responses.
Although the controls of a Wasp appeared quite similar to those of a conventional aircraft, there were important differences. The pedals were throttles in a Wasp. The farther they were depressed, the faster the Wasp went. Switches on the control yoke could reverse the direction of thrust. Movements of the wheel, forward and back as well as clockwise or the reverse, controlled climb and dive, and "wing" angle. The proper combination of movements could flip a Wasp end for end, a dangerous maneuver at high speeds because of the gee-load it could subject the pilot to.
The flight of Boems had continued to dog Blue Flight all of the way to the air over the 13th. Only at the end had they closed enough to force another confrontation.
As much as possible, Zel saved his rockets for the ground support mission. He used his cannons to keep the enemy fighters away. The new Wasp tailgun helped immeasurably. The Boems had to stand off and use rockets, and the Wasps' countermeasures had kept any of those from finding Blue two. So far. Not everyone had been so lucky. The numbers in the air were more nearly equal now, six Wasps and five Boems. And both sides were getting low on rockets.
Zel tipped his Wasp over to the right, standing it on edge, then pushed through a quick roll. That gave him a shot at a Nova on the ground while it turned him back toward the Boem that had been dogging him for the past minute. The Boem came almost to a stop before it flipped and dove, away and to the left. Zel thought that the Boem must be out of rockets.
Give me a shot, Zel thought. He glanced at his "remaining munitions" display. Two rockets and twenty seconds of ammo for the forward cannon.
"One rocket for you, one for another tank," Zel whispered. He armed a rocket while his target acquisition system tried to get a lock on the Boem.
"Closer." Zel pushed both throttles to the floor. He was closing on the Boem. The Schlinal pilot's braking maneuver before he flipped had cost him precious fractions of a second.
"Closer." Zel heard the twin clicks as his TA system established its lock. He saw the decoy that the Boem launched and heard the "translated" chatter of its electronic countermeasures. "A couple seconds of that and you're finished," Zel said, unaware of the death's-head grin that had taken possession of his face. With enough time to analyze the enemy's ECM, the Wasp's rocket would be able to adjust for them.
"Now!" Zel shouted the word, but it came out after he punched the trigger on his rocket. He eased back on his throttles and made a shallow turn to line up on another tank. He armed his last missile, reminding himself to switch the selector back to cannon as soon as the rocket was away.
By the time the first missile hit the Boem, a solid hit just behind the cockpit, Zel had already locked his last missile onto one of three tanks remaining below.
That tank exploded before Zel's rocket reached it, hit by a shell from a Havoc ten kilometers away.
"Damn! I could have saved that." Zel had already forgotten about the Boem, whose pieces were still falling out of the sky.
—|—
The skirmish was over less than an hour after the first shots had been fired. The first Heggie column had been hit hardest. Those who had not been killed were
Almost over, Joe thought. Then, for several seconds, he hovered near the edge of unconsciousness. But he didn't fall, and he was brought back from the brink by a hand on his right arm and Al Bergon's voice.
"I'm here, Sarge. Hang tough. This doesn't look too bad."
—|—
Zel had ceased to have any awareness of his body. He was simply part of his Wasp, a command and control nodule acting and reacting. His hands and feet on the controls were merely cogs in the intricate machinery. They were no more or less part of him than the 25mm cannons, the batteries, or the antigrav drives. Eyes and ears collected data. His brain processed it and produced responses.
Although the controls of a Wasp appeared quite similar to those of a conventional aircraft, there were important differences. The pedals were throttles in a Wasp. The farther they were depressed, the faster the Wasp went. Switches on the control yoke could reverse the direction of thrust. Movements of the wheel, forward and back as well as clockwise or the reverse, controlled climb and dive, and "wing" angle. The proper combination of movements could flip a Wasp end for end, a dangerous maneuver at high speeds because of the gee-load it could subject the pilot to.
The flight of Boems had continued to dog Blue Flight all of the way to the air over the 13th. Only at the end had they closed enough to force another confrontation.
As much as possible, Zel saved his rockets for the ground support mission. He used his cannons to keep the enemy fighters away. The new Wasp tailgun helped immeasurably. The Boems had to stand off and use rockets, and the Wasps' countermeasures had kept any of those from finding Blue two. So far. Not everyone had been so lucky. The numbers in the air were more nearly equal now, six Wasps and five Boems. And both sides were getting low on rockets.
Zel tipped his Wasp over to the right, standing it on edge, then pushed through a quick roll. That gave him a shot at a Nova on the ground while it turned him back toward the Boem that had been dogging him for the past minute. The Boem came almost to a stop before it flipped and dove, away and to the left. Zel thought that the Boem must be out of rockets.
Give me a shot, Zel thought. He glanced at his "remaining munitions" display. Two rockets and twenty seconds of ammo for the forward cannon.
"One rocket for you, one for another tank," Zel whispered. He armed a rocket while his target acquisition system tried to get a lock on the Boem.
"Closer." Zel pushed both throttles to the floor. He was closing on the Boem. The Schlinal pilot's braking maneuver before he flipped had cost him precious fractions of a second.
"Closer." Zel heard the twin clicks as his TA system established its lock. He saw the decoy that the Boem launched and heard the "translated" chatter of its electronic countermeasures. "A couple seconds of that and you're finished," Zel said, unaware of the death's-head grin that had taken possession of his face. With enough time to analyze the enemy's ECM, the Wasp's rocket would be able to adjust for them.
"Now!" Zel shouted the word, but it came out after he punched the trigger on his rocket. He eased back on his throttles and made a shallow turn to line up on another tank. He armed his last missile, reminding himself to switch the selector back to cannon as soon as the rocket was away.
By the time the first missile hit the Boem, a solid hit just behind the cockpit, Zel had already locked his last missile onto one of three tanks remaining below.
That tank exploded before Zel's rocket reached it, hit by a shell from a Havoc ten kilometers away.
"Damn! I could have saved that." Zel had already forgotten about the Boem, whose pieces were still falling out of the sky.
—|—
The skirmish was over less than an hour after the first shots had been fired. The first Heggie column had been hit hardest. Those who had not been killed were
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