David Schleifer
A COMMANDER...
OF HONOR
A CREW...
OF HEROIC COURAGE
AN ENEMY...
OF LETHAL CUNNING
Our most desperate time is at hand. The Drazakii war machine moves through the stars, crushing one fleet after another. Now after yet another defeat, the Earth Empire faces their ultimate challenge. For as yet have the Drazakians landed on any of our colony worlds... until now!
Face with desperation, the Earth Imperial Navy has no choice but to commit a damaged task force led by the battle scared Battlecruiser Pegasus. With minimal repairs to her hull and to the rest of her escort ships, the sixteen ship task force is all that stands in the way of the Rigel Colony, and ninety Drazakian warships of their Third Armada.
David Schleifer was born in Queens, New York in 1962. He was educated and raised in Miami, Florida. A Martial Artist mastering Karate, Kendo, and Aikido, military researcher, naval tactician, and Japanese history expert; David is a prolific writer who produced three of the Battlecruiser series.
His career actually began in 1979 with the original concept draft of “Battlecruiser: Prototype” entitled “Flight of the Pegasus.” David joined the Florida Romance Writers in 1987 and in 1991, received his Diploma from the Writer’s Digest School. David believes that writing is as much an art form as sketching or martial arts. This can be seen in his books, a mixture of pure imagination and previous background information.
“We’re not clear yet,” Daria snapped. “I want those interceptors in as fast as we can get them. Brice, status on those destroyers?”
“They are coming in, range now just over one hundred and seventy five megaklicks.”
“Missile range?” asked Coltan.
“Point defense parameters up,” Daria called.
“Why not launch bombers?” asked Coltan.
“If there are other ships in the area, they will be converging here,” said Daria, “I don’t want to be around when they appear.” Daria brushed aside some of her hair. She was used to long hair, but the Drazakians took care of that during the Equus Incident. She tapped a button on her console.
The comm responded, “Engineering?”
“Where’s McNichols?”
“He’s coming, Commander.”
Daria waited a moment before the speaker broke the silence on the combat bridge.
“Commander?”
“Status?” Daria asked.
“We’ve almost got it. Just give me a few more minutes.”
“We don’t have a few more minutes. Enemy destroyers will be launching their missiles. If they’ve armed their Ship-killers, then we won’t be going anywhere, permanently.”
“Understood,” McNichols replied, “But transferring power feed circuits is a delicate process. We’re down three fusion reactors. I don’t want to blow another one if we rush it.”
“A nuclear tipped Ship-killer is one hell of an incentive to rush it, Engineer,” Daria snapped. “Get that power to the hyperdrive, NOW!”
“Aye-firmative.”
Daria turned toward the Comm-Ops. “Have the other ship’s tie-in for simultaneous hyper-jump.”
“Aye-firm, Commander. All ships are slaved to our controls.”
“Lysander,” Daria turned to face the helm station. “The moment we got power–.”
“All ready for your immediate command,” the three-armed Alythian named Lysander responded from Helm-Ops.
“Recover operations commencing on port side landing deck,” Coltan called.
“Make it fast,” Daria said.
“Commander!” Brice swivelled around to look over his shoulder. “Drazakian Destroyers launching long range missiles. I’m picking up eight launches. I am reading two nuclear hot spots with those missiles.”
“We’ve run out of time,” Coltan said.
“Get me McNichols, and get those interceptors in,” Daria snapped.
“McNichols on the line,” Delaney called from Comm-Ops.
“Just to make your day,” Daria snapped, “We’ve got nuclear missiles inbound. Impact in…” Daria looked up at Brice who held up three fingers, “three minutes.”
“Thanks,” McNichols replied. “I really needed to know that,” he cut the line.
Daria looked up as Brice displayed the countdown to impact on the Tactical Plot Screen next to the main viewscreen. The TPS also showed distances to impact.
“Commander,” Coltan called, “Point defense online.”
“Inbounds closing to point defense parameters,” Brice said.
“Akima,” Daria turned toward the female canine operating the Weapons-Ops next to Brice’s TTO console. “Lock up Anti-Ship-killer missiles and prepare to fire.”
