“I’ll take the lead, boss.” Stockton’s words were emotionless. The patina of arrogance that usually surrounded him was entirely gone, replaced by a grim determination. “Give me my Blues…and Ice and half his Yellows. You and Lynx can take the Reds and the rest of the Yellows and form two reserve lines.”

He turned around and stared back toward his rival. “That good with you, Ice? You game to fly with me? I’d bet between us, we can do what has to be done.”

Krill had been sitting quietly in the back of the small briefing room. He stared back for a moment, silent. Then he said, “I’ll fly with you, Raptor.” There was warmth in his normally frigid tone, and he even managed a rare smile. “And you bet your ass we’ll do what has to be done.”

“I’ll take the second line.” Olya Fedorov spoke up now. She had been standing along the back wall listening to the discussion. “I’ll take most of my Reds.” She looked at Jamison. “If you agree, sir, you can take the third line. The surviving Greens and the rest of Ice’s Yellows…plus a few of my best Reds. You’ll be the final defense, the last chance to take out anything that gets through us.”

Jamison shook his head. “I’ll fly with the lead group.”

“No, Kyle…you can’t do that.” Stockton snapped at his friend in a tone that verged on insubordination. “I mean, you’re the commander, sir. We don’t know what’s going to happen, how they’ll come at us. We need you where you can see things happening and react. It’s our place to be in the front lines, not yours.”

Jamison looked as if he was going to argue, but Barron held up his hand. “I’m afraid Raptor is right. Your place is in the rear line…just as my place is here, and not in a fighter out there. I need your command abilities, Kyle, not senseless bravery that gets you killed. I need to know I can count on you, that you’ll keep those fighters from getting through and launching any attacks on Dauntless.”

The pilot sat for a few seconds, staring down at the floor. Then his head moved up and said, “Yes, sir. Understood.”

Barron looked out at his four squadron leaders. “I can’t express how fortunate I am to have such gifted and capable squadron commanders. I know what you went through in the first battle…” Barron hesitated. His fighter squadrons had lost half their strength already, and now he was sending them on another desperate mission. He knew the need to stop the bombers would put his people at a disadvantage against enemy ships fitted for dogfighting. And that meant more casualties, probably a lot more.