Sol Strike (Battlegroup Z Book 3) by Daniel Gibbs (red novels .txt) 📗

narrowed his eyes. “Of course, sir. Wouldn’t want to make it easy on them.”

Nishimura grinned. “Good.” His expression sobered. “God forbid we have reason to storm an enemy ship or prevent the League from taking ours.”

“Team leader signals ready.”

“Do it.” Nishimura shifted his gaze to the monitors showing the Marines’ first-person viewpoints.

“Beta Team, begin exercise in five… four… three… two… one… go!” O’Connor thundered.

Through the screens, Nishimura watched as the group split into two elements of three. Each stacked up to the left and right side of a simulated airlock. With neatly timed precision, they tossed pulse grenades in both directions away from the entry point. Then, amid a flurry of stun rounds fired from their battle rifles, both elements charged, pushing out from the airlock.

“Better technique this time,” O’Conner remarked.

“Send the first wave of OPFOR security response then the second wave forty-five seconds behind,” Nishimura replied. He had a stopwatch going on his tablet and marked down each waypoint the team met in real time. “Last time, it was a full three minutes.” He grinned. “Keep ’em guessing.”

On the monitors showing the holocameras built into the kill house structure itself, the OPFOR security teams—mostly masters-at-arms from the Zvika Greengold—sprang preplanned traps and pinned down both elements simultaneously. Internal security soldiers on a vessel would be unlikely to respond so effectively in a real battle. Still, Nishimura believed in preparing for the absolute worst—over and over until the lessons sank in.

“Point man for element two is down,” O’Conner said as he pointed at the screen assigned to that Marine. “First OPFOR units are down. Second team entering the engagement in ten seconds.”

In combat, the enemy you didn’t see was who got you. The exercise was no different. Two Marines from the first element collapsed from barrages of stun rounds. Three friendlies remained when the firing ceased, and again the OPFOR team was left writhing on the deck.

“Too few left to finish the mission.”

“Nah, Master Guns. My money says they pull it off.”

“We shall see.”

The objective of the exercise was the engineering area of the spaceship. The Marines were to overload the reactor and escape as part of a battery of tests Nishimura and O’Conner had developed, including prisoner rescue, sabotage, infiltration, and intelligence gathering. The first element entered the engine room on the monitors and quickly set about interacting with a crate marked Control Console. The training sim was decidedly low-tech compared with the advanced ones back at home.

O’Conner wasn’t out of tricks. A third security detail entered the area, engaged the two Marines, and successfully stunned one. The remaining member of the second friendly element's arrival helped tip the tide, and several OPFOR defenders fell.

“Major, reactor set to overload. Beta attempting to egress.”

Nishimura and O’Conner exchanged glances.

“Not bad, Master Guns. They still completed the task under fire. High casualty rate, though...”

“They haven’t gotten out yet.”

O’Connor’s words might have been prophetic. The seconds ticked down toward a detonation of the reactor. With thirty seconds remaining, the two Marines abandoned the measured approach they’d taken to the firefight and instead broke cover and charged, battle rifles spraying stun rounds on full auto.

More OPFOR members dropped from the fusillade, but those who weren’t stunned maintained fire discipline. One of the Marines dropped, and finally, the second ran out of ammunition on his battle rifle. Hand-to-hand combat erupted between the last two combatants, then the OPFOR soldier finally put down the Marine with a flurry of stun bolts.

“Hmmm. You were right,” Nishimura said. “They’d gotten used to the opposition’s placement.”

O’Connor cued his commlink. “Reset! Reset! Good job, everyone. Marines, unfreeze your armor and return to the briefing room for discussion.” After he’d turned the device off, he turned to Nishimura. “It’s how the iron dice roll at times.”

The comment caused a lingering question to pop up again in Nishimura’s mind. “Say, Master Guns, that’s a phrase I’ve heard you use several times.” He quirked his nose. “Got anything to do with the design on your religion flag?”

“Is that your polite way of asking what my beliefs are, sir?” O’Connor replied.

“Well, uh…” Nishimura wasn’t sure whether he’d offended him or not.

O’Connor held up his hand. “I’m kidding. It’s a question I get a lot when I first arrive at a duty station. Honestly, I’m surprised you didn’t ask sooner.”

Nishimura allowed a grin to crease his face. “Well, it's unique.”

“Yeah, I know most of the Coalition’s citizens are some form of Christian, Jew, or Muslim, but lots of other religions are out there too.” O’Connor paused. “You’ve heard of the Jalm’tar, right?”

“Aliens beyond our frontier, down by the Jewel Box nebula, and they don’t care for outsiders,” Nishimura replied. “Right?”

“More or less.” O’Conner touched the patch with the stylized dice. “They have a belief system that’s based on the randomness of the universe. They see chance as having a guiding force of its own in the cosmos.”

The idea hit Nishimura as kind of odd but also interesting. “So, they worship chance?” It dawned on him that the Master Guns was saying he’d converted to an alien faith. First time for everything.

“Not quite.” O’Conner shook his head. “I suppose I should backtrack and explain I was an agnostic before I adopted the Jalm’tar beliefs.”

Ah, so he did convert to an alien faith. Nishimura stared with rapt attention.

“I know what you’re thinking—who converts to some hokey religion from an alien species that wants nothing to do with us?” O’Conner grinned and shrugged. “All I can say is it fit for me. I don’t quite buy everything being pure randomness, but at the same time, there’s so much pain and heartache in this universe. I don’t think someone created it and sits around overseeing it.”

“What’s with the dice, then?” Nishimura asked. His curiosity was genuinely piqued.

“If one accepts the idea of the universe being an inherently chaotic place, it brings about a question. The lucky breaks—you know, a guy walks into a casino and hits the jackpot five times in a row, or a Marine ducks a split