Bandits Engaged (Battlegroup Z Book 4) by Daniel Gibbs (classic literature list .txt) 📗

To her incredible surprise, Tehrani’s mind was already churning with possibilities. It shocked her how easy it was to accept the possibly illegal appropriation of the CIS vessel. “And I need to avoid a court-martial, Agent.”

“Leave that to me. I’ll… secure the appropriate paperwork.”

“Good.” Tehrani forced a smile to her face. “Anything else, Agent?”

“No, I’m good. Have a great day, Colonel. We’ll be seeing each other.”

The vidlink screen went black, leaving Tehrani alone with her thoughts. It dawned on her that she would’ve been better off not accepting his call.

It took Justin two hours to write up the entirety of the Red Tails after-action report from their first engagement with the pirates. He’d spent more time studying gun-holocamera footage and working it all together into a usable demonstration of the enemy's capabilities and tactics. Individually, each craft was almost superior to a Terran Coalition SF-86 Sabre. The CDF fighters retained superior training. Each pirate pilot seemed to view combat as a one-on-one activity, not a team sport. Feeling thankful that Whatley had drilled the need to work together into them religiously, Justin paused outside the hatch to the CAG’s office.

“Come in!”

Justin blinked. I haven’t hit the buzzer yet. He pushed the hatch open. “How’d you know I was there, sir?”

“I’m psychic.” Whatley smirked. “Get your ass in here, Captain.”

As he slid into one of the side chairs, Justin raised an eyebrow. “I somehow doubt that, sir.”

“Your feet make a distinctive sound on the deck plates.” Whatley narrowed his eyes. “Pay attention to everything, even the smallest detail.”

“Yes, sir.” Justin shifted his feet. “I completed a review of the prior engagement. I’d like to get additional Sabres, Boars, and Maulers on deck. Go back to having twelve craft on ready five and another twelve on ready thirty.”

Whatley shook his head. “That schedule kills the crew chiefs, Captain. Even though I love to chew them out, I have to accept the reality of human limits at some point.”

“I also want to install rocket pods on the Red Tails’ Sabres. They would make sense for everyone to carry.”

“Why?” Whatley stared at him. “Those pods are for ground attack.”

“Yes, sir. However, we used them to significant effect against League bombers. I think we could inflict some damage on those corvettes and the pirates' heavy fighters with them.”

“I recall your unorthodox strategies,” Whatley replied. “Okay, fine by me, but remember—while there’s no drag in the void, additional mass lowers your delta-V.”

Justin had already considered that point and dismissed it. “Yes, sir.” We’re going to need every advantage we can get.

“Any other suggestions?”

“Besides get another carrier in here?”

Whatley snickered. “Try something that’s not a miracle from God Himself.”

Justin set his jaw. “We could try having two elements of Boars engage the bandits. They appear especially suited for dogfighting heavier craft and can carry additional Vultures and Eagles if we swapped out the anti-ship missiles.”

“Let me test my understanding here. Justin Spencer, ace of aces, wants to sit out a dogfight in favor of a different squadron because they might have better luck against the enemy because of some observation he made?” Whatley quirked his nose. “Did I hear that right?”

Justin felt his cheeks warm. I suppose I deserved that. “Uh… well, uh… yes, sir.”

“Good. There’s hope for you growing up into a seasoned officer after all.” Whatley winked. “Don’t let it go to your head.” Silence broke out as Whatley seemed to appraise him. “Did you decide on Winged Lightning’s new CO?”

“Yes, sir. Going to go with the squadron XO, First Lieutenant Kaczka.”

“Feldstein didn’t want it?”

“No, sir.” Justin shook his head. “She’d prefer to fly Sabres, per our conversation.”

“So,” Whatley said as he sucked in a breath. “You going to tell me what was going on there, or do I have to drag it out of you with laps around the hangar deck?”

Oh shit. Justin figured he probably resembled a deer caught in headlights as he stared mutely at Whatley. His jaw flapped a few times as his cheeks grew hot.

Whatley laughed loudly and slapped his desk. “Oh, Spencer, you’ve got to work on that poker face. What happened? You guys have a falling out? Disagreement over how to run the squadron? Maybe one of you got a little too friendly.”

“Uhhh—”

“Ah, so you did get too friendly. No fraternization on the Zvika Greengold. It’s not allowed, per the UCMJ, but I especially won’t have it here. Leads to distractions. Distractions get my pilots killed.”

“We—I had a moment of weakness, sir. It’s resolved, we’re good, and it won’t happen again.” No, it won’t. That much, I know. Intense shame coursed through every fiber of Justin’s being. What happened was bad enough, but that the CAG knew about it was almost worse.

“Do you remember me telling you that all of us have to find a way to keep going in war?”

“Yes, sir.”

Whatley leaned back in his chair. “Well, you discovered one of the ways to do it. I did, too, once.”

“Sir?”

“You don’t think I was always a gruff old man barking orders at youngsters, do you?” Whatley grinned. “I was going to marry a fellow pilot once.” His face clouded over. “Trust me. You don’t want to make that mistake. Besides, pretty sure you’ve got a wife waiting at home.”

“And another baby on the way.”

“Ah. Another reason to keep your head screwed on straight.”

Justin felt as if Whatley’s eyes were boring into his soul. “I make no excuses, sir.”

“There’s a reason why I’m rough on you, son.” Whatley’s expression softened into what passed for concern, coming from him. “You’ve got a lot of potential. Not just to be a great pilot—lots of people can do that. I see leadership qualities in you. If I keep tuning you and ensure you stay on the straight and narrow path, I think you’ll go far. Part of it is good character.”

“My dad used to say character is what you do when no one else is watching.”

“Someone’s always watching.” Whatley pointed his