Bandits Engaged (Battlegroup Z Book 4)

by Daniel Gibbs

  She could only take so much before some sarcasm came out. “No, it’s her twin sister. I’ll be happy to take a message for you.” Tehrani presented what she hoped was a dazzling smile.

  Ramires’s face turned bloodred. “Do not mock me, Terran!” His eyes glinted, and he gritted his teeth. “Your foolish actions cost the lives of many of my fellow employees, not to mention billions of credits in company resources in the two ships lost. Without your meddling, we could’ve kept the situation from going this far!”

  Tehrani counted to three and let out a deep breath. “Without us, you’d all be dead. I might add your security forces showed extraordinary bravery and tipped the scale against the enemy. Now, if you wish to make a formal complaint, you may do so with Coalition Defense Force command. Good day, Shipmaster Ramires.”

  The screen blinked off.

  “I don’t think I’ve seen you hang up on somebody before, Skipper,” Wright said quietly.

  She shook her head. “I don’t appreciate odious people with no concept of sacrifice.”

  “That’d make two of us, Skipper.”

  “Communications, get me Sentinel Ohmedov. If he's still alive.”

  “Aye, aye, ma’am,” Singh replied.

  A few moments later, Ohmedov’s face appeared. The bridge of his ship was heavily damaged. Pieces of the overhead hung in the background, while smoke was visible along with damage-control teams. “Colonel, we meet in victory.” Even though his face was covered in soot mixed with blood, the man still wore a smile.

  It brought one to Tehrani’s lips too. “There is no substitute for it, is there?” The grin faded. “I’m sorry for your losses.”

  “And I, yours. One favor, if I might be so bold?”

  Tehrani tilted her head. “Anything within my power.”

  “We could use some medical assistance as well as search-and-rescue teams. My sensor officer tells me there’s survivors in a floating hulk that was once one of our ships, but I have no way to get at them.”

  “I’ll send a shuttle with supplies and medics. If you have extensive injuries that your facilities can’t treat, the Greengold has a sizeable medical bay. As for S-and-R, send us the coordinates, and they’ll be added to our list.”

  “Thank you, Colonel.”

  “You’re welcome. And thank you for your assistance. I doubt we would’ve won without it.”

  He touched his finger to his brow. “Good luck out there, Colonel. Ohmedov out.”

  As the screen went black yet again, Wright cleared his throat. “Can’t believe I’m going to say this, but I’ve got to give respect where it’s due. Those megacorp fellows saved our bacon.”

  “As strange as it sounds, I agree.” Tehrani closed her eyes. “Too close today, XO.”

  “Always.”

  Tehrani stood. “I’m going to get started on our log and reports. You have the conn.”

  “Aye, aye, ma’am. XO has the conn.”

  It took hours for Marines to secure the last prisoners from the four remaining corvettes and the search-and-rescue birds to finish their work. Through it all, Justin and the rest of the Greengold’s fighters—the remaining ones, anyway—stood the watch. He tried to insist on being the last craft to land, but the CAG overruled him, as usual.

  Justin sucked in a breath as his Ghost came to rest on the flight deck. He popped the canopy and peered over the side in time to see a crew chief run up with a portable ladder.

  “Locked on, sir! Ready when you are.”

  “Thanks, Chief.” Justin flashed a thumbs-up and climbed over the side. A few steps later, he was back on firm ground—or as close to firm ground as one could find in the void of space.

  Major Whatley came to a halt on the next pad over. Aviation ratings quickly secured a carbon-copy portable ladder to the craft, and the CAG dropped to the deck.

  Justin waved at him as he unsealed his flight helmet. “Nice flying out there, sir.”

  “You seem to have taken some of those tricks I taught you to heart,” Whatley replied loudly as he walked over. “Good show yourself, Spencer.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Justin replied quietly. Even though they’d won, the appalling losses by the Winged Lightning squadron along with a couple of pilots from both the Red Tails and the Black Hogs were enough to dampen his spirits.

  “Walk with me,” Whatley said. He gestured toward the exit that led to the ready rooms.

  Justin fell in beside him, fiddling with his flight helmet.

  “Look, thanks for saving my ass out there, Spencer.” Whatley narrowed his eyes. “I, uh, thought I was a goner. Never in my life have I been more surprised or relieved.”

  “All part of the service, sir. I’d do the same for any of our pilots.”

  “That may be so, but today it was me.” Whatley put his arm around Justin’s shoulders. “I’ll never forget it.”

  They strode through a hatch into a passageway leading farther into the Greengold. While a sea of humanity was in the hangar, the corridor was empty. Justin stretched his neck. “I’m going to go get cleaned up, sir. A shower is in order.”

  Whatley held up his hand. “Before you go, Spencer.” He extended his arm. “I haven’t said this enough, but you’re one hell of a pilot. I sorely misjudged you at first, and I’m honored to serve side by side with you.”

  Justin stared at the offered hand for a moment before shaking it. While the CAG had apologized before, it felt nice to hear it so plainly laid out. He nodded.

  “So what’s bothering you? Normally, you’re bouncing off the damn walls.”

  “The losses. It’s starting to get easy to forget who they were. At some point, the names stop registering. I know it’s wrong, but it’s easier than remembering. Then I wonder when my luck’s going to run out. Someday it will.”

  “Two things. One… we never forget those lost. Even if it’s hard. Read the names. Remember the fallen. Two, you can’t focus on things outside of your control. We go out there, do the best job we can, and pray we come home. Every other minute, value like it’s the last one we’ve got.”

  The words, while simple, made sense to Justin. He nodded. “Don’t forget beating the Leaguers, sir.”

  “Maybe with these Godforsaken pirates out of the way, we can go back to showing those communist bastards the door,” Whatley growled. “Now, let’s get cleaned up. And don’t forget, Spencer, you still owe me an invite to that card game. I want in before I get transferred off this tub and you become the new CAG.”

  It took Justin a moment to process the second half of the CAG’s comment. “Me… take over the wing, sir?”

  “If I have anything to do with it,” Whatley called over his shoulder as he kept walking.

  Justin was left standing there, stunned at the major’s pronouncement. Once he picked his jaw off the deck, Justin set about changing from his flight suit back into BDUs to head back to his cabin. Me, command the wing? That’d be something. Then he realized he’d be responsible for the lives of every pilot on the ship and not just the Red Tails. That thought was sobering and forced deep introspection as he walked the passageways of the vessel. I’ll do my duty. Always, no matter what, do my duty.

  24

  Freiderwelt Orbit

  CSV Zvika Greengold

  4 September 2434

  The week since they’d decisively beaten the pirates felt like a blur. Tehrani had spent her days overseeing engineering work, as being laid up at a CDF forward outpost in orbit of Freiderwelt only contributed to a feeling of being out of the fight against the League. Another casket ceremony only added to the malaise. She’d submitted the after-action reports up the chain of command along with requests for additional escorts. We’re still down a destroyer and three frigates from our on-paper wartime strength.

  Returning to the desk in her day cabin just off the passageway on deck one, meters from the bridge, Tehrani allowed herself to mentally relax for the first time all day. A brief thought of vidlinking Ibrahim disappeared when the intercom buzzed
.

  “Colonel, I have flash traffic for you,” Singh said through the speaker. “General Yukimura.”

  “Put him through to my tablet, Lieutenant.”

  “Aye, aye, ma’am.”

  Major General Shingo Yukimura appeared on the screen, wearing a smile. “Colonel, I hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time.”

  Part of the flag officer’s charm was his disarming nature with subordinates. Tehrani found it endearing and off-putting at the same time. She’d come to expect a certain level of brusqueness from senior leadership, and Yukimura didn’t fit that mold. “Never, sir. Cleaning up my paperwork, thinking about another condolence letter, and preparing the Greengold to get back into the fight.”

  “I wasn’t aware you’d been out of the fight.”

  “Well, sir, I think I speak for nearly everyone in my battlegroup when I say we’d rather be fighting the League and reclaiming Eire.”

  Yukimura chuckled. “I suppose I don’t blame you, Colonel. In that case, I’ve got some bad news. Battlegroup Z will be on station for a few more weeks. Command wants you flying the flag in case other upstart pirate groups decide to try to exploit the damage done by the bunch you just eliminated.” He cracked a grin. “Remember, convoy duty is what the Thanes are designed for.”

  Inwardly, Tehrani groaned, but she kept a thin smile on her face. “Of course, sir.”

  “I noticed you put in a few more medal citations.”

  “Yes. Several of them posthumous, I’m afraid.”

  “Major Whatley for a Bronze Star with the V device?”

  Tehrani nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  “The application I don’t see is for an award for Captain Spencer.”

  “He specifically asked me not to put him in for anything, sir.” Tehrani kept a neutral expression. “Captain Spencer felt that he only did his duty, and others should be honored.”

  “I see. I respect a soldier that’s not in it for glory. But the Terran Coalition needs heroes. Spencer is a true-blue CDF hero, and by God, the service will use him as it sees fit. Prepare a citation for him and send it to me. I believe the CDF Cross would be appropriate for his conduct in your last engagement.”

  The CDF Cross was second only to the Medal of Honor in awards the CDF could bestow. “Yes, sir. You’ll have it by close of business CMT.”

  “Good. Colonel, I want you to know that I pray for you daily. Your entire crew and the men and women on those escorts. God willing, I’ll see you in person in a few months.”

  Tehrani bit her lip and nodded. “And if not, perhaps someday in paradise.”

  “Amen.” Yukimura chuckled. “All right, I’ve got to get back to my day. Good luck out there, Colonel. Godspeed.”

  “Godspeed to you, too, sir. Inshallah Allah.”

  The screen blinked off, and Tehrani set the tablet down with a sigh. She tried to remember what everyday life was like. The way things were before every day was a life-or-death struggle. It seemed like a far-off, hazy dream. The realization shocked her because not too long ago, combat seemed like a nightmare in and of itself, but it had become the harsh reality they lived in.

  The hatch chime buzzed.

  “Come,” Tehrani said.

  It swung open, revealing Wright in his battle dress uniform, complete with what appeared to be grease stains. He wiped sweat off his brow as he stepped through. “Apologies for the appearance, ma’am. I won’t sully the chairs.”

  She laughed. “I couldn’t care less, XO. Sit.” When he didn’t move, she smirked. “That’s an order.”

  Wright dropped into one of the chairs and let out a breath. “I just completed a tour of the engineering spaces and the hull repairs. Everything’s looking solid. We’ll be ready to get underway in less than forty-eight hours.”

  “More convoy duty,” Tehrani deadpanned. “Our favorite.”

  “As long as we’re done with these idiot pirates, I’m ready to go back to shooting Leaguers full of holes.”

  Tehrani stared at him. “Did you ever think this was what our service would end up being?”

  “No. Frankly, I thought I’d be the quintessential space warfare officer that warmed up his weapons once or twice, never got into combat, and joined the independent spacers guild.”

  “Plans change.” She closed her eyes for a moment. Oh, how they do. “Yet we must adapt.”

  “It’s the oath we took,” Wright replied. “The idea we’re at the epicenter of a ‘conflict of civilizations’ is insane, though. We’re making history, Skipper.” He shook his head. “Ever stop to think about why these guys are doing it? I can’t believe the Orion arm of the galaxy doesn’t have habitable planets. There’s so much space out there for the taking. Why come here?”

  “My husband believes it's because communists can’t abide any other system’s existence because of the inferior nature of their economic system.” Tehrani grinned. “I would relish seeing him debate one of these Leaguers.”

  Wright put his head back and laughed loudly. “Touché, Skipper.”

  “I haven’t heard you take a shot at Hodges in a while. Did you two finally bury the hatchet?” She made a face. The juvenile rivalry between the two men had become tedious as soon as it began, when the engineer was assigned to the Greengold eighteen months ago.

  Wright paused as if carefully considering his words. “After our victory at the Sol system, I had some time on the way home to put things in perspective.” He spread his hands out on his knees. “And there’s no room for pettiness in my life anymore. Major Hodges agreed.”

  She stared at him. “I’m glad to hear it.”

  “Just one of those personal inventory things. Well, Skipper, I’d better let you get back to it. I’m gonna grab a shower, hit the mess, then dig into my own paperwork.” Wright stood.

  “Send your uniform down to be cleaned.” She wrinkled her nose. “It not only looks awful but smells too.”

  Wright snickered. “I’ll do that, ma’am.”

  As he left, Tehrani leaned back in her chair. How easy it is to banish the little insults of life in the face of a daily wrestling match with death. She glanced at her tablet. My work’s not going to do itself. With a tap of the screen, Tehrani got back to it.

  With the carrier in port and tending her wounds, the pilots had plenty of downtime. Justin filled some of it with simulator sessions and extended maintenance on their fighters, but plenty of time was still left for other activities, such as the nightly card game Alpha played.

  Mateus was having a grand time. She’d found an old-school triangle-shaped pirate hat somewhere and wore it at the poker table as she nursed a beer. “Yo ho ho, and another hand for me!”

  Laughter drifted around the room, and Justin shook his head. “You gonna wear that thing in the cockpit the next time we fight criminals?”

  She snorted. “Maybe I will, Flyboy.”

  “To think I call all of you my friends,” Feldstein added.

  “Not so fast.”

  All eyes turned to Adeoye as he held up his cards. “I believe my straight flush beats yours.”

  Justin blinked. Sure enough, they did. Heh. It’s always the quiet ones that get you in this game.

  Adeoye collected the chips and stacked them neatly in front of him. “I was thinking, sir. I’d like to put in for the squadron-commander position in the Winged Lightnings.”

  Silence descended over the room.

  “Jackson, they lost half their bombers against that carrier,” Feldstein replied with emotion. “We’ve got a good thing going here. We should stick together.”

  “I’m rated for both craft,” Adeoye said, the rich timbre of his voice filtering across the table. “And I believe I could make a difference. The remaining pilots are demoralized and shaken by the loss of two squadron commanders.

  “You’re sure?” Justin asked.

  “I am.”

  Feldstein leaned forward. “Maulers have nothing in common with Sabres. They’re slow, the turn radius sucks—”

&n
bsp; Justin held up a hand. “We’re not debating this here. I’ll make a recommendation to Major Whatley, and that’s the end of it. Now, let’s get back to the cards.”

  “Yes, sir,” Feldstein ground out.

  The hatch buzzer interrupted the conversation.

  Mateus tilted her head. “Who could that be?”

  Justin grinned. “I might’ve invited a new player.”

  “Better not be one of those rubes from the Black Hogs,” Feldstein said archly.

  “Nah, even better,” Justin replied. “It’s open. Come in!”

  All four of them looked toward the opening hatch, which revealed the form of Major Nishimura. He had on a pair of athletic shorts and a T-shirt that proclaimed No One Promised You a Rose Garden.

  “You invited a Marine?” Mateus's accent became more pronounced.

  Nishimura let out a belly laugh. “Nice reception there. I heard about this mythical card game between Alpha from your CO here. He said I could drop by. What? You hotshots are afraid of a single Marine?” He pulled a chair from the living room and set it at the table.

  Everyone glanced at one another.

  “I thought it would be nice to have some new competition,” Justin said.

  “You mean someone else for me to clean out.” Mateus’s eyes glinted.

  Nishimura met her stare with one of his own. “Oh, this is going to be fun.”

  Laughter yet again broke out from everyone.

  Justin tossed a chip into the center of the table. “Ante up.”

  It felt good to see them relaxing. He was mildly annoyed at Adeoye for bringing up the bomber squadron’s losses and current lack of leadership in what amounted to a war-free zone but understood where he was coming from. Jackson wants to make a difference. Nothing wrong with that.

  The game began in earnest, and several rounds were played as they felt out Nishimura.

  As usual, it came down to Mateus, who’d become uncannily good at figuring out the hands of other players. “I’ll see your bet and raise five credits.”