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

will be a living personification of the adage that discretion is the better part of valor.” Grant crossed his arms. “I’m not dying at the hands of a bunch of pirates.”

Justin snickered, as did several others.

“I’ll be sure to write that on your tombstone,” Wright replied darkly.

“Since it will take a few hours to transfer the small craft, Marines, and everything else over to the Farnborough, I suggest we get started, Colonel. Time is of the essence to avoid raising any suspicions among our criminal friends.”

Justin stuck his head forward in front of Whatley. “I volunteer to lead the flight element. In the last engagement, I picked up some insights into how they fight and the technical specifications of the enemy craft.”

“Shush,” Whatley said with a nasty look toward him. “We’ll send four Sabres and four Boars. I expect both to be effective.”

“Major Nishimura, gather a VBSS team.” Tehrani set her jaw. “I’d like you to personally lead the assault.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way, ma’am,” Nishimura replied.

“Good. You have your orders, gentlemen. Dismissed.” A nagging thought at the back of her mind was that if the Q-ship was close to being overwhelmed, she had no doubt Grant would abandon her people without a moment’s hesitation.

Accommodations on the CSV Farnborough were nothing to write home about. On the outside, the ship was an old tramp freighter. On the inside, it was packed to the gills with shields, armor, and weapons. Several of the former cargo holds were cleverly designed to absorb incoming rounds, with mixtures of alloy-based and liquid armor. After taking the nickel tour, Justin and the other pilots huddled in what had once been another one of the eight cargo holds the vessel once sported.

Four Sabres and four Boars sat on their landing gear, side by side. A few crew chiefs huddled together, talking, while the pilots kept to themselves.

“This waiting is worse than on the Greengold,” Mateus groused. “My butt is sore.”

She’s got a point. “It’s the chairs,” Justin replied. “There’s a reason we get nice leather easy chairs in our ready room.” He took a sip of water. “Don’t give the crew of this tub a reason to dislike us more. They already think we’re pampered flyboys who can’t rough it to save our lives.”

Feldstein made a show of rolling her eyes. “I’d love to see any of these CIS pukes get into the cockpit and battle it out.”

“Yet we needed to turn to them for help in dealing with common pirates,” Adeoye said. “Perhaps we should show them the respect we expect ourselves.”

“Do unto others before they do unto you,” Mateus interjected.

“I don’t think it goes like that.”

The rest of them turned to face Justin, making him somewhat uncomfortable with the sudden attention. “Was it something I said?”

“Not your speed, Spencer,” Lieutenant Green, the squadron leader for the Black Hogs, replied. “Maybe you should go down to the doc shack and get checked out.”

Justin chuckled. “So you can close in on my kill count when we get this party started? I think not.”

“Good. There is a true-blue CDF pilot in there.” Green gave a wicked smile. “I still think this op is half-assed.”

“Enlighten us, oh fearless brrrrrrt one.” Feldstein made the trademark Boar pilot noise with a straight face.

“Come on. Eight fighters in here? We’re a one-shot deal, if we make it out of the hold without hitting the sides. The Greengold’s off patrolling, and if that damn pirate carrier shows up again, we’ll be overwhelmed.”

“I thought Boar pilots were under the impression they could take out anything,” Justin replied.

“Within reason.” Green narrowed her eyes. “You’re telling me you can’t see the fifty different ways this can go sideways?”

Justin shrugged. “I can, but I choose not to dwell on them. We’re about to engage the enemy, and this is an enemy that particularly disgusts me. Criminals.” He set his jaw. “Look at it this way. The sooner we dispatch these idiots, the sooner we can be fighting the real enemy—the Leaguers.”

“Valid point, Captain.” Green took a swig of coffee. It had to be cold, but no one wanted to venture up to the galley and risk being caught in case of a scramble.

Feldstein tilted her head. “I’m amazed we have this thing. It’s so cloak-and-dagger. The CDF typically operates in the open.”

“Not CDF, though,” Adeoye interjected. “CIS. They stick to the shadows.”

Justin felt uneasy. Waiting was always the most challenging part of the job, but something about the ship was oppressive, and the sooner they were off it and in the void, the better. “Anyone bring a deck of cards?”

Green leaned forward and grinned mischievously. “I’m sure we can rustle something up. Red Tails up for some friendly intrasquadron action?”

“I’ll see your action and raise you,” Mateus said with a flourish. “Seven-card stud is the game.”

“Done.”

Like two sharks circling each other, Green and Mateus swapped card decks and shuffled them. Justin sat back in his chair, wincing as he felt his leg go numb from sitting on a nerve. He tried to shift in such a way that it would relieve the pressure and pain. Well, at least I get a ringside seat to see if Mateus has finally met her match.

The bridge of the Farnborough, at first glance, appeared to be the type of ordinary control center one would find on a civilian freighter. The consoles were by no means high-tech, the sensor tank lacked the polish and resolution of a military model, and there was far fewer crew present than would be on a warship. Looks were deceiving, however.

Thomas Grant had planned the operation himself meticulously—dotted every I and crossed every T. The Farnborough carried an actual load of lithium ore, and they’d been careful to ensure traces leaked from the holds, just enough not to arouse suspicion but enough to bait the pirates. Their flight plan mimicked the hundreds of independent haulers making the runs in and out of Coalition space, down to jumping into Lagoon nebula, as