Sol Strike (Battlegroup Z Book 3)

by Daniel Gibbs

  “You took Latin?” Feldstein asked with mirth in her voice.

  “No. He did.”

  Justin double-checked the flight computer and the first set of Lawrence drive coordinates. They appeared correct, and the system was fully charged. “Ready for the jump?”

  “Everything is green over here.”

  “Good.” Justin flipped up a toggle cover and cued his commlink to the squadron command channel. “Alpha One to all flight elements. You’re cleared to spin up your Lawrence drives.”

  Acknowledgments of the order filtered in, and Justin focused on executing his first flight evolution inside League of Sol territory. He sucked in a deep breath and pressed the button to initiate wormhole formation. “Alpha Two, you are cleared to commit.”

  Directly in front of Justin’s fighter, a small disturbance formed. At first, it was without form, almost resembling a tiny nebula or a gas cloud. After a few more seconds, the familiar shape of an artificial wormhole appeared. Its kaleidoscope of colors, including blue, green, red, orange, and purple, was breathtaking. The vortex grew until it was large enough for a single-seat small craft.

  Justin pushed the throttle forward and accelerated. All around him, other small wormholes opened, and the two dozen fighters raced through. During the several-second journey through the fabric of space-time itself, he experienced sensory overload. Everything seemed to fade out, and for a few moments, Justin wasn’t sure he was still conscious.

  “Spencer, can you hear me?” Feldstein’s voice seemed distant and distorted.

  It was all Justin could do to focus on her words and process them through his mind. “Yeeeah.” He blinked. The stars had returned to normal. “Wow. That was a head triiip,” he continued.

  “Yeah. I closed my eyes during transit. It seemed to help.”

  “I think we’re in the right place,” Justin said as the universe came back into focus. The stars quit spinning, and he moved his gaze to the sensor readout in his HUD. It took an average of five seconds after a successful jump for all electronics on a vessel to restart—an eternity in hostile space.

  All of a sudden, dozens of red dots appeared. “You seeing this?”

  “If by ‘this,’ you mean loads of League ships, then yes.”

  “Well, it was unlikely we’d knock one out of the park on our first at-bat.”

  “Sports metaphor? Really? Come on. You’ve got to have a better line in there somewhere.”

  Justin studied the sensor data intently. Most of the contacts were civilian freighters, and several were large space stations around gas giants in the system. But the beehive of activity also included military vessels.

  “This place is too busy. I see at least two frigates and a bunch of smaller ships.” Feldstein said.

  “Probably corvettes for trade inspections, not unlike the Terran Coalition’s Revenue Cutter Service.”

  “Still, too many. They could call in reinforcements quickly, even if we could take something out and capture it,” she replied. “Mark this one off the list.”

  “Aye, aye, ma’am,” Justin said jauntily.

  “Ha.”

  He grinned, thankful that the edge of the solar system they’d emerged in was empty, even if the rest of it wasn’t.

  The thirty-minute cooldown period for the Lawrence drive passed uneventfully. He didn’t understand the ins and outs of the faster-than-light engine or the science behind it. The training manual was direct, though—a minimum of fifteen minutes between jumps except in abject emergencies. Several pages had discussed exotic particles and why their release was a bad thing. Pretty sure my eyes glazed over at that crap. “Ready to get out of here?”

  “I was ready thirty minutes ago.”

  “Touché.”

  “You know, you’ve changed.”

  Though he was five hundred meters away from her and in a different fighter, Justin cocked his head. “How do you mean?”

  “You were always the goofball when we flew together after graduating. I don’t think you realize how much like Whatley you’ve become now.”

  Feldstein’s words were a shock. Justin twisted his neck as he pondered them. Me? Act like the CAG? “I, uh, don’t see it.”

  “Oh, you haven’t mastered the art of the complisult yet, but give it some time. You’ll get there, Captain Spencer.”

  “Compli what?”

  “A complimentary insult. Whatley’s the best I’ve ever seen,” Feldstein replied.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of that before.” Justin chuckled. “The last six months have changed me. They’ve changed us all.”

  “It’s not a bad thing. It’s only bad if we lose ourselves in… Hate. Anger. Elation in killing another human being. Or an alien, for that matter. We’re all God’s creatures.”

  Justin toggled the jump computer’s next destination, a red dwarf system with no information on planetary bodies. “What’s with you and the God talk lately? Scratch that. What’s with everyone and the God stuff?”

  “It’s how I cope.”

  “The war?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t get it,” Justin replied, almost angry. “None of you guys were focused on religion before the war started.”

  “It’s called getting your priorities in order, Justin.”

  Her use of his first name surprised him. “I fail to see what the imaginary friend in the sky does to help get our priorities right. What’s in front of us—what we can see, feel, and taste—that’s what matters.” Justin thought back to holding his wife and daughter. How much I miss them.

  “God isn’t imaginary.” A bit of pique crept into Feldstein’s voice. “Maybe I can’t touch Him, but I know He’s real just as surely as I know the spacecraft we’re flying are.”

  Justin caught himself before he uttered another nasty retort. Who am I to tell her she’s wrong? That’s why it’s called faith, right? “Well. Let’s focus on the mission, shall we?”

  “Aye, aye, sir.”

  With the distraction pushed aside, Justin double-checked the jump computer one last time. “All systems green over here.”

  “Same. Ready for Lawrence drive initiation.”

  “Execute jump.” Justin pressed the button to kick off the sequence, and much like before, all power drained from his Ghost. An artificial wormhole opened in front of the cockpit canopy, and Justin eased his fighter into it. Learning from the last time, he closed his eyes for the entire journey.

  Once the shaking stopped, he opened them. “Oh shit.”

  Blind Lawrence jumps were, by their very nature, unpredictable. That wasn’t too big of a deal for a capital ship and its battlegroup, but for a single-seat fighter, emerging in the middle of a group of unknown vessels was a disaster. Justin willed his HUD to reengage. Come on. Come on. Don’t fail me now, old girl. The sensors came back online and immediately populated dozens of League contacts.

  “Still with me, Lieutenant?” As his heart pounded, Justin took deep breaths, forcing himself to stay calm and work on one problem at a time.

  “Yeah. You seeing this? I think most of these ships are freighters.”

  The onboard classification system agreed with her. All but two of the ten vessels near them showed as civilian, but the other two appeared to be patrol corvettes of the same type they’d seen in the last star system. “I don’t think they’ve seen us.”

  “We should jump out now. The drive can handle back-to-back emergency jumps with less than five percent chance of failure.”

  Justin ran her idea through his head. It’s a small miracle they didn’t see us when we dropped in, assuming they didn’t and aren’t about to open up with everything they’ve got. “No. Cut power to everything now.”

  “Sir?” Feldstein’s voice rose an octave.

  “That’s an order. Cut everything and coast. We have to assume we haven’t been spotted yet. We’ll wait until they move off then jump out.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  As Feldstein’s commlink transmi
ssion cut off with an audible click, Justin relaxed. With nothing to do but wait, he double-, triple-, and quadruple-guessed his decision. In the end, fate would decide what happened next. Hopefully, the stealth features on these fighters are as good as the eggheads say they are.

  Patience wasn’t a trait Tehrani possessed. While the aviation wing searched for a viable fuel source to raid, she sat in her day cabin. For a while, she’d tried to do paperwork and catch up on the ship’s log, but unable to focus long enough to get much of anything done, Tehrani pulled out her Quran instead. As she flipped through its pages, a passage jumped out at her. “Never will we be struck except by what Allah has decreed for us; He is our protector.”

  Before she could read further, the hatch chime buzzed.

  “Come!”

  It swung open, revealing Wright. He strode into the room and came to a stop in front of her desk. “Got a minute, ma’am?”

  “Always.” Tehrani smiled warmly and gestured to the two chairs next to him.

  “I just finished an inspection of the engineering spaces,” Wright said as he slid into one of the seats. “Repairs are proceeding, but it’s slow going.”

  Tehrani closed her eyes and shook her head. “Of all the possible problems, I’ve been asking why this one.”

  “Who the heck knows, skipper.” Wright stretched, grimacing. “I mean, everything was going according to plan, then out of nowhere, our reactor craps out on us.” He chuckled. “Were I a paranoid man, I’d wonder if we had a League saboteur aboard.” He glanced at the leather-bound Quran and raised an eyebrow. “That looks like an old-school paper book.”

  “Quaint, I know. My mother gave it to me. She always said electronic copies weren’t real.”

  “Find anything in there to help us?”

  “A few exhortations to stay strong in the face of danger and to trust in God.”

  Wright grinned. “I can get behind that sentiment.” He furrowed his brow. “You sure you’re okay?”

  Several uncomfortable seconds passed. “Not really.” Tehrani fought to control the emotions welling up inside her. “No.”

  “Want to talk about it?”

  “XO… Benjamin, I feel this horrible weight pressing on me. I’ve spent the last couple of hours trying to decide what to do if this gambit doesn’t work. How do I decide who to send home?” The idea of having to pick four hundred or so soldiers if the Zvika Greengold couldn’t be repaired was something that barely registered. “How? I don’t think I can look into the eyes of a young mother and tell her she’ll never see her child again. Or tell a man who’s longing to hold his wife once more that he has to stay behind.” A tear slid down her face. “We’re six thousand light-years from our homes, and if the League finds us, they’ll...”

  “Hey, they might line us all up and shoot us,” Wright replied, clearly trying to inject levity into his voice. “I think I’d rather that, myself.”

  “Compared to Allah knows how long as a prisoner of war.” She shivered. “I familiarized myself with how the old World Society treated captured Freedom Alliance personnel. Accounts from liberated ‘reeducation’ camps read like the worst horror imaginable.”

  “Skipper, if anyone can keep that fate from happening to our ship, you can.” Wright leaned forward and stared directly into her eyes. “You’re the right woman at the right time. Okay?”

  Tehrani wiped her eyes. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t lay this burden on you.”

  “Why not? It’s mine too.” Wright bit his lip. “We’re getting home. Okay?” Before she could respond, he pressed on. “Hodges asked me to get everyone on the ship with level-two qualifications in engineering sent down to help. Something about lots of grunt work, not enough hands.”

  Thankful for the change in topic, Tehrani nodded. “There should be a lot of those aboard.”

  “Including me. I’ll head down after my next watch-standing rotation.”

  “I appreciate you checking in on me.” She steepled her fingers. “More paperwork awaits.”

  He stood, but before he turned to go, he asked, “Skipper, you mind if I offer some advice?”

  “Feel free.” Tehrani forced a smile. “The worst I can do is not listen.”

  “Don’t sit in here, doing whatever you’re doing. Go out on the bridge and stand watch with me. The crew is worried, and more than that, they’re scared shitless. Let them see you sitting there, calm, cool, and collected. It’ll go a long way.”

  And it might help settle my nerves too. Tehrani knew better than to ignore wisdom. “I think that sounds like the best idea I’ve heard all day, Major.” She stood and walked around the desk. “Shall we?”

  Wright gestured toward the hatch. “Let’s do it.”

  “It’s been an hour. They’re fifty thousand kilometers away,” Feldstein said through the commlink. “I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to get out of here.”

  Justin chuckled. The last hour had been among the most terrifying and nerve-wracking of his life. He’d had combat engagements with extended dogfights and moment-to-moment questions of whether he would survive. But they paled in comparison to sitting there, watching freighter after freighter pass by and wondering if the enemy had discovered his fighter—which would be indicated by massed weapons fire.

  “Agreed.” He looked down at the computer that controlled the Ghost’s Lawrence drive. “I’m locked in and showing green. You?”

  “Same.”

  “Okay, let’s do this. Hopefully, the third time’s the charm.” Justin toggled the control to engage the Lawrence drive. His craft’s control panel was immediately dimmed, and a wormhole formed directly in front of the cockpit canopy. He closed his eyes during the transit, having learned from the previous two trips the difference it made for a head trip. Upon reopening them, Justin noted the solar system had yet again changed. More than usual, his heart pounded for the few seconds between emergence and the fighter’s sensors coming back online.

  “Nothing within thirty thousand kilometers,” Feldstein called. “I’ve got one gas giant on my scope at bearing zero-three-eight.”

  “Confirmed,” Justin replied after blinking a few times and staring at his HUD. “It’ll take a bit for the Ghosts’ sensor systems to perform an in-depth analysis.” He set his head back on his headrest. Even with the flight helmet on, it still took some pressure off his neck. “God, I hope this is it. We need a break.”

  “Oh, asking God for help now?” Feldstein replied archly.

  “Figure of speech.” Justin cleared his throat. “Let’s go take a look at this gas giant. Come to heading zero-three-eight. Push it up to max thrust without afterburner.”

  “Wilco.”

  The trip in-system would take six hours, minimum. So far, they’d seen no indications of a League military presence. Or anything else for that matter. Justin hoped against hope for good news, because in his heart, he knew the Zvika Greengold’s time was running out.

  10

  On the Zvika Greengold, the midday watch had come and gone with little in the way of activity beyond frantic engineering repairs and report after report from the recon teams. Not a single one had been positive. Every system surveyed so far either lacked a mining station or was crawling with League forces. After Tehrani had stood the midday watch, she got some dinner and returned to the bridge for the evening shift. Wright had departed at her insistence for food and some rack time. If he does what I ordered him to. She grinned.

  The second- and third-shift officers and enlisted personnel were present on the bridge, and they acted like first-year cadets, trying to avoid getting a demerit.

  Tehrani took up studying old star charts from the Exodus, examining the path of the refugees who eventually formed the Terran Coalition. Unlike the mighty Lawrence drives on their ships today, it was a small miracle that the thing had even worked all those hundreds of years ago. Instead of going fifty light-years in a flash, the vast population transports would’ve been lucky to get a light-year or two at the max. I can’t
imagine the mental anguish they must’ve gone through, wondering if the untested technology would work past the next day. It made her consider how lucky they were to have the advanced technologies at their disposal all around them.

  “Conn, TAO. Aspect change, new contact at range five hundred kilometers off our port bow. Designated as Sierra Nine—CDF Ghost recon fighter,” the second-shift tactical officer, Second Lieutenant Amancio Campos, announced, immediately pulling Tehrani out of her thoughts.

  “Conn, Communications,” Singh interjected. He was the only other first-shift officer on the bridge. “Incoming transmission from Sierra Nine. It’s Captain Spencer, ma’am.”

  “Put him on my viewer.” Tehrani turned to the screen above her head.

  Justin’s face, encased in his flight helmet, came into view. The picture cut in and out, and lines streaked across the image. “Colonel, can you hear me?”

  “I read you, Captain. Go ahead.” Tehrani’s pulse quickened.

  “We found it, ma’am. A gas giant with a small mining facility and only a few freighters going in and out. It looks like maybe three a day.”

  Tehrani let out a breath, and relief washed over her like a flood. “Military vessels?”

  “None, ma’am.” Justin grinned. “If I may be so bold, ma’am, I think we’ve got a winner.”

  “Proceed immediately to the hangar bay and join the senior officers and me in the deck one conference room in fifteen minutes, Captain,” she replied. Thoughts shot through Tehrani’s brain at light speed as she considered the logistics of how to proceed. While the boarding and capture of vessels in space was by no means her area of expertise, at least they had more Marines than usual aboard. Perhaps Allah has granted us the ingredients we need to ensure a victory.

  “Aye, aye, ma’am. My wingman and I will be landing shortly. Spencer out.”

  The screen blinked off. Everyone on the bridge was staring at Tehrani, some overtly and some out of the corners of their eyes while they stood watch over their stations.