by Daniel Gibbs
“In other words,” Wright interjected, “if anything goes wrong, the entire op is screwed. That about sum it up?”
“Yeah,” Nishimura said. “So we won’t screw up. Besides, Marines always succeed.”
“Keep telling yourself that,” Wright retorted good-naturedly.
Tehrani cleared her throat and propped her hands on the conference table. “Then we have a viable tactical plan for getting the fuel. Two pieces of the puzzle remain. One is the attack on Earth. The other is timing.”
“Captain MacIntosh has completed a detailed analysis of the scan results from the Astute and my sister ships,” Fielding said, gesturing at the Scotsman. “He has some thoughts on the matter I think you should hear.”
“By all means. Captain?”
“Ah, yes, ma’am.” MacIntosh plucked a small data cube from his pocket and slid it into the mounted holoprojector. A few moments later, a 3-D view of the Sol System based on the stealth raiders’ imaging passes presented itself. “As you all can see, there are numerous in-system defense installations around Earth. Going out from there, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, and Uranus also have extensive orbital stations. However, the farther we go from Earth, the less military infrastructure I see in evidence.”
“Does this mean we can’t attack Earth directly?” Wright asked.
MacIntosh nodded. “Most likely, sir. We’re looking for targets of opportunity—lightly defended and, more importantly, near the L4 and L5 Lawrence limit points.”
“So our pilots can get out fast once they stir up the hornet’s nest,” Whatley rumbled. “Okay. What’s the good news? Because I really wanted to blow something up around Earth.”
Polite chuckles greeted the CAG’s comment.
MacIntosh smiled. “I think you’ll like these, sir.” He touched a point near Jupiter. “Large-scale helium-3 fuel refinery, with automated freighters going in and out of the gas giant’s atmosphere every ten minutes. Additionally, stations dedicated to growing food dot the orbits of Jupiter’s moons. Europa and Ganymede have the highest concentration, and what appear to be thermal power plants on Io.”
“How do you know the stations are for food generation?” Nishimura asked. “That seems like a bit of a leap, because all I see here are some oblong, cylindrical space stations. Who knows what they’re for? Could be Leaguer casinos for all we know.”
MacIntosh appeared to take the question in stride. Tehrani had already noticed his calm demeanor and easygoing attitude, which made the young man seem well ahead of his years. His next statement confirmed her belief.
“Do you see these objects, here, Major?” MacIntosh asked politely. He pointed at a couple of distinct but dark shapes near the previously mentioned stations.
“Yes.”
MacIntosh zoomed the view in. It revealed the shapes to be large mirrors. “At first, we thought they were legacy solar power farms, but that didn’t make sense because of how widespread fusion reactor technology is within the League. No, those mirrors direct sunlight onto the food-growing stations. I’d wager they’re a relic of previous generations of technology, because by now, as large as it is, the League undoubtedly has breadbasket worlds, just like we do.”
“Okay, you sold me, Captain. Apparently, this guy is a wizard with intel analysis.” Nishimura raised his eyebrows and shook his head.
Fielding joked, “I could’ve told you that before you stepped in it.”
Again, laughter swept through the conference room.
Tehrani felt happy for a moment to hear her crew set fear and anxiety about the upcoming fight aside. “What about Saturn and Uranus?”
“Mostly industrial outposts, ma’am. Some law-enforcement-type installations and more than a few trade inspection cutters. All of them are half the size of a frigate, with light armaments.”
Tehrani nodded. “It makes sense that for an empire of the League’s size, their home system doesn’t require a massive military presence.”
“So,” Whatley interjected, “which of these will make a lot of booms and hurt the Leaguers most?” He pointed at the enormous mirrors still shown on the holoprojector. “Those seem like a good first target.”
“Civilian targets are off-limits,” Tehrani replied immediately, her mouth moving even before her brain.
“What?” Whatley thundered. “Installations for growing food are economic not—”
Tehrani held up her hand. “Some civilian targets are considered legitimate under the Canaan Conventions, Major. Agriculture installations aren’t.”
“I wasn’t aware the League had signed the Canaan Conventions, ma’am.” Whatley’s voice dripped acid. “Because when they rolled through our home system, anything the CDF couldn’t actively protect was destroyed. Perhaps we could ask some of the civilians killed about it.”
His anger surprised Tehrani. Taken aback, she stared at the CAG for a few moments before responding. “We will not compromise our ethics or our beliefs to get revenge. Installations such as fuel depots, refineries, shipyards, or industrial complexes are fair game under the rules of war. Agricultural stations, hospital centers, civilian transports, and the like are not.” She stared Whatley down. ”Or would you suggest shooting down a passenger liner is acceptable?”
“It would depend on who the passengers were,” Whatley replied darkly. “The League’s government? Hell yes. Normal people…” He shook his head, and some of the anger seemed to drain from his voice. “No. Of course not.”
“We’re better than the League.” Tehrani pursed her lips. “And we only deserve victory if it stays that way. The Terran Coalition can’t go into battle asking for God’s intercession, only to commit atrocities in His name. Are we clear, Major?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Whatley’s voice was crisp, but his face remained bloodred.
“Moving on, then. If we understand our possible targets, what is the strategy for attacking them successfully?”
Whatley again interjected. “You can’t expect my pilots to jump in blind. Who knows what’s waiting for them, and I see masses of convoys, freighters, and you name it on these sensor displays.”
Well, he’s gotten moody all of a sudden. Tehrani glanced at MacIntosh and Fielding, expecting them to have an answer to the CAG’s concern.
“Of course not, sir,” MacIntosh replied. “Our tactical plan calls for each stealth raider to take up position near a primary target and scan the area. The Ghosts will jump in from there in three separate groups, divided by squadron. Our primary targets are, as the colonel indicated, fuel refineries and shipyards. Possible targets of opportunity are some of these trade convoys as well as the corvette-sized craft engaging in cargo inspections.” He smiled thinly. “It wouldn’t do not to take out some League military assets while we’re at it.”
Tehrani sat back. The plan was still a bit raw, but she was convinced it was the best they would probably get. MacIntosh is a smart young man. She hoped he would go far within the CDF command hierarchy, because their training and technology advantages would be meaningless without superior strategic planning.
“I’m still not comfortable having my people execute a full jump into a war zone.” Whatley crossed his arms. “Instead, I’d propose microjumps in from a staging area. That would allow us to bug out if faced with overwhelming force or some League trap the Golden Nebula crew doesn’t see.”
“Any objections to the CAG’s proposal, gentlemen?” Tehrani asked.
MacIntosh and Fielding shook their heads.
“Makes perfect sense to me, ma’am,” MacIntosh said. “I suppose all that remains is the timing of our attacks.”
Tehrani had put considerable thought into the subject. It had vexed her so much that she’d eventually written a pros-and-cons list. “After examining the possibilities, I believe the only option for success is to execute the assault on Sol and capture of the fuel tanker simultaneously.”
“Because doing it any other way will alert our Leaguer friends that we’re here,” MacIntosh added. “I had planned
to suggest that to you, ma’am.”
“Great minds think alike,” Wright interjected. “So, we’re going to steal a fuel tanker, blow up orbital stations all over the Sol system, and escape before the League knows what hit it. Who else likes our chances?”
“Engineering has a betting pool going,” Hodges offered. “I’m down for five credits on the reactor blowing up when we refuel it.”
Tehrani hoped her engineer was engaging in some gallows humor. “Don’t discuss betting pools in front of me,” she said with a thin smile. “Especially not about combat.”
“All in good fun, ma’am,” Hodges replied. “There’s bugger else to do around here.”
“What else needs to be done?” Tehrani asked the room at large.
Resolute expressions met her stare.
“Aside from setting H hour, I believe we’re all clear on our assignments, ma’am,” Wright said. “Agreed, folks?”
“Yes, sir,” MacIntosh replied.
“The Astute and all other stealth raiders are ready to engage.” Fielding set his jaw. “I can’t wait to put a few Starbolt missiles on target.” His grin hardened into a grim expression. “And repay the Leaguers for Canaan.”
“Good.” Tehrani closed her eyes for a moment. “Unless there’s an objection, H hour will commence at oh eight hundred the day after tomorrow.”
“Um, ma’am, we probably won’t have the reactor fully repaired by then.”
Tehrani turned her head. “I realize that, Major. You’ll have six to eight hours before the fuel arrives, best estimate, yes?”
“Sounds about right,” Nishimura replied. “Give or take.”
“So plenty of time to finish up.” She crossed her arms.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Anything else?” Tehrani asked with a tone of finality.
“If I may?” Macintosh leaned forward with his hand raised. At Tehrani’s nod, he continued, “I’d like to join the Marine unit. I’m rated for power armor use and have an engineering background with advanced technology.”
Nishimura cleared his throat. “When was the last time you qualified with standard small arms?”
“Six months ago, sir. I shot expert in rifles and sidearms.”
Nishimura looked at Tehrani and nodded. “We don’t have Marine combat engineers aboard, so I’d be grateful for someone with an engineering skill set to join us.” His turned back to MacIntosh. “Besides, I’ve got respect for anyone who signs up for this insane op.”
“It’s settled, then,” Tehrani replied. She stood. “Good luck and Godspeed, gentlemen. Dismissed.”
Everyone except Wright quickly filed out, politely nodding. Whatley closed the hatch behind him once he realized the XO was staying behind.
Once it clicked shut, Wright let out a sigh. “How are you holding up?”
“Mmm. The chipper version or the truth?”
“The truth works,” he replied.
Tehrani stared straight ahead for a few seconds. “I’m scared for all of us.” She found it difficult to admit, but her XO was a needed outlet for support and bouncing ideas off of. “I almost feel like someone walking into a casino with their life savings and putting it all on one game.”
Wright laughed. “Not exactly the analogy I’ve come to expect from you, skipper. But it does fit.” He sucked in a breath. “What else can we do? We’re out of options, and the team’s put together a great strategy. If our crew and pilots execute, there’s a decent chance we make it home.” He paused. “It might help if God interceded on our behalf too.”
“Sometimes I feel insane for feeling like that. You know? A year ago, I would’ve told you miracles no longer happen, if they ever did.”
“As we’ve both observed, the war has changed all of us. Some for the worse, some for the better. I’m hoping in me, it’s for the better.” Wright bit his lip.
“I think so.”
“Well, we’d better get back to it, eh?”
Tehrani stood. “The Zvika Greengold is going home intact.”
“I’m holding you to that, skipper.”
With a laugh, Tehrani opened the hatch and entered the corridor. She flipped a mental coin and decided to take the conn on the bridge for an hour before retreating to her office to complete more paperwork. Paperwork only gives me time to think, and the last thing I need right now is to contemplate how dire our situation is.
The friendly card game Mateus hosted in her quarters almost every night had become a tradition among Alpha element in the Red Tails. Justin understood that other elements and squadrons had copied it in some form. He’d even heard that one group of pilots got together to play board games, which puzzled him, as he’d never met a pilot who would admit to being a nerd. Justin grinned at the thought as he pushed the hatch open to Mateus’s quarters. A large paper sign that read Alpha Element Only! was taped to it.
“Hey, everyone,” Justin called.
“Time to get this party started,” Mateus replied with a whoop. “I’m ready to win back some of my money.”
“What? All five credits I’ve won the last two months?” Justin dropped into the lone empty chair. “Don’t spend it all in one place.”
“Five credits are five credits. I’m feeling lucky tonight.”
“Hopefully, that luck will carry into tomorrow,” Feldstein interjected as she took a drink from her beer mug. “I’m looking forward to our mission.”
Justin stretched out his legs under the table. “I’d prefer to be flying the freighter mission.”
Mateus tossed a card at each of them then another. “Ante up, boys and girls.”
“Why? Putting a blow on the Leaguers is the far more dangerous and interesting combat evolution,” Adeoye said. He tossed a chip into the center of the table. “And I consider it more rewarding.”
“Maybe I want to get home,” Justin replied, annoyed.
“I’m sure the CAG does, too, and will ensure we do.” Feldstein tossed her own chip at the growing pot. “Beyond that, let’s send some of these Leaguer bastards on to God for judgment.”
Justin remembered the comments Major Nishimura had made during the command briefing. Something unsettled him about both statements, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. “I’m in.” His chip bounced off another one and came to rest.
“Some of the medals off the uniforms of captured Leaguers from our last operation have come into my possession,” Adeoye stated out of the blue.
The rest of them stared at him, Mateus with an open mouth.
“How?”
Adeoye shrugged. “A Marine friend.” He grinned mischievously. “I put several on the Javelins in my weapons bay.”
Mateus laughed, nearly spraying beer out of her mouth. “Beats the messages I wrote on mine. I suggested they do anatomically impossible things to themselves in Portuguese.” She winked.
“Oh, I can only imagine,” Feldstein replied between snickers. “Are there enough for all of us?”
“I should think so.” Adeoye contributed two chips. “I’ll see your bets and raise.”
“Who’s still in?” Mateus asked.
“I’ll match,” Justin replied.
“Me too,” Feldstein said and tossed another chip toward the pile. “Deal ’em, sister.”
Mateus expertly flung a card at each of them after depositing one in front of her. “I’m so excited for tomorrow.” She took a drink from her glass, which contained a dark-brown liquid and a single ice cube. “Almost three months without blasting a Leaguer from space makes for a dull girl.”
“I wouldn’t say I feel excitement,” Adeoye stated as he stroked his face. “But anticipation. Striking back at the enemy who attacked us in our homes is something to be proud of joining.”
Justin realized he had four kings. “I’ll raise you all by a credit.” He threw a larger chip into the pot. “To me, this is another mission, albeit a far more dangerous one. I just want to live through it and see my family again.”
“Thanks for the somb
er reminder, Captain,” Mateus groused. She had a point—it felt almost like the temperature of the room had dropped below zero. “I’ll see your wager and raise you another credit.”
“Done.” Justin dropped another black chip in.
“Too rich for my blood,” Adeoye commented and handed his cards back to Mateus. “I’m out.”
“Me too,” Feldstein said, also turning her cards in.
“Just you and me, Spencer. Show ’em, cowboy.”
Justin laughed and flipped his cards right side up. “Four kings.”
“Ah. A great hand most days.” She turned her cards up one at a time, revealing four aces. “But not today.”
“You played me the entire time,” Justin said as he rolled his eyes in mock frustration. “I was so sure you were bluffing.”
Mateus just grinned while gathering all the chips arrayed in front of her. “This gets about half my credits back. Time for another hand.”
Laughter flowed through the room as the four of them played hand after hand. The game continued until nearly 0100 CMT before it finally broke up.
Justin, Adeoye, and Feldstein left together and were sober—with a battle the next day, no one wanted a hangover. They entered the nearest gravlift, and Justin pressed a button for deck twelve.
Adeoye reached over and hit the one for deck eleven. “Ah, it is always enjoyable to share the company of others. Especially before combat.”
“I can’t speak for the rest of you, but it makes me feel less alone,” Justin said. He stood at the back of the lift as it began to move. “And that’s nice.”
“It is,” Feldstein interjected with a glance at Justin. “We’ve got to be insane.”
“Why?” Adeoye asked.
“Because only someone who’s insane would be able to sleep before strapping into a combat spacecraft, intent on blowing as many Leaguers out of space as possible,” she replied. “I’m planning on sleeping like a baby.”
The lift stopped, and its doors opened. “This is my stop for a nightcap,” Adeoye stated and stepped out. “Sleep well, my friends. May we be victorious.”