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

see us when we dropped in, assuming they didn’t and aren’t about to open up with everything they’ve got. “No. Cut power to everything now.”

“Sir?” Feldstein’s voice rose an octave.

“That’s an order. Cut everything and coast. We have to assume we haven’t been spotted yet. We’ll wait until they move off then jump out.”

“Yes, sir.”

As Feldstein’s commlink transmission cut off with an audible click, Justin relaxed. With nothing to do but wait, he double-, triple-, and quadruple-guessed his decision. In the end, fate would decide what happened next. Hopefully, the stealth features on these fighters are as good as the eggheads say they are.

Patience wasn’t a trait Tehrani possessed. While the aviation wing searched for a viable fuel source to raid, she sat in her day cabin. For a while, she’d tried to do paperwork and catch up on the ship’s log, but unable to focus long enough to get much of anything done, Tehrani pulled out her Quran instead. As she flipped through its pages, a passage jumped out at her. “Never will we be struck except by what Allah has decreed for us; He is our protector.”

Before she could read further, the hatch chime buzzed.

“Come!”

It swung open, revealing Wright. He strode into the room and came to a stop in front of her desk. “Got a minute, ma’am?”

“Always.” Tehrani smiled warmly and gestured to the two chairs next to him.

“I just finished an inspection of the engineering spaces,” Wright said as he slid into one of the seats. “Repairs are proceeding, but it’s slow going.”

Tehrani closed her eyes and shook her head. “Of all the possible problems, I’ve been asking why this one.”

“Who the heck knows, skipper.” Wright stretched, grimacing. “I mean, everything was going according to plan, then out of nowhere, our reactor craps out on us.” He chuckled. “Were I a paranoid man, I’d wonder if we had a League saboteur aboard.” He glanced at the leather-bound Quran and raised an eyebrow. “That looks like an old-school paper book.”

“Quaint, I know. My mother gave it to me. She always said electronic copies weren’t real.”

“Find anything in there to help us?”

“A few exhortations to stay strong in the face of danger and to trust in God.”

Wright grinned. “I can get behind that sentiment.” He furrowed his brow. “You sure you’re okay?”

Several uncomfortable seconds passed. “Not really.” Tehrani fought to control the emotions welling up inside her. “No.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“XO… Benjamin, I feel this horrible weight pressing on me. I’ve spent the last couple of hours trying to decide what to do if this gambit doesn’t work. How do I decide who to send home?” The idea of having to pick four hundred or so soldiers if the Zvika Greengold couldn’t be repaired was something that barely registered. “How? I don’t think I can look into the eyes of a young mother and tell her she’ll never see her child again. Or tell a man who’s longing to hold his wife once more that he has to stay behind.” A tear slid down her face. “We’re six thousand light-years from our homes, and if the League finds us, they’ll...”

“Hey, they might line us all up and shoot us,” Wright replied, clearly trying to inject levity into his voice. “I think I’d rather that, myself.”

“Compared to Allah knows how long as a prisoner of war.” She shivered. “I familiarized myself with how the old World Society treated captured Freedom Alliance personnel. Accounts from liberated ‘reeducation’ camps read like the worst horror imaginable.”

“Skipper, if anyone can keep that fate from happening to our ship, you can.” Wright leaned forward and stared directly into her eyes. “You’re the right woman at the right time. Okay?”

Tehrani wiped her eyes. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t lay this burden on you.”

“Why not? It’s mine too.” Wright bit his lip. “We’re getting home. Okay?” Before she could respond, he pressed on. “Hodges asked me to get everyone on the ship with level-two qualifications in engineering sent down to help. Something about lots of grunt work, not enough hands.”

Thankful for the change in topic, Tehrani nodded. “There should be a lot of those aboard.”

“Including me. I’ll head down after my next watch-standing rotation.”

“I appreciate you checking in on me.” She steepled her fingers. “More paperwork awaits.”

He stood, but before he turned to go, he asked, “Skipper, you mind if I offer some advice?”

“Feel free.” Tehrani forced a smile. “The worst I can do is not listen.”

“Don’t sit in here, doing whatever you’re doing. Go out on the bridge and stand watch with me. The crew is worried, and more than that, they’re scared shitless. Let them see you sitting there, calm, cool, and collected. It’ll go a long way.”

And it might help settle my nerves too. Tehrani knew better than to ignore wisdom. “I think that sounds like the best idea I’ve heard all day, Major.” She stood and walked around the desk. “Shall we?”

Wright gestured toward the hatch. “Let’s do it.”

“It’s been an hour. They’re fifty thousand kilometers away,” Feldstein said through the commlink. “I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to get out of here.”

Justin chuckled. The last hour had been among the most terrifying and nerve-wracking of his life. He’d had combat engagements with extended dogfights and moment-to-moment questions of whether he would survive. But they paled in comparison to sitting there, watching freighter after freighter pass by and wondering if the enemy had discovered his fighter—which would be indicated by massed weapons fire.

“Agreed.” He looked down at the computer that controlled the Ghost’s Lawrence drive. “I’m locked in and showing green. You?”

“Same.”

“Okay, let’s do this. Hopefully, the third time’s the charm.” Justin toggled the control to engage the Lawrence drive. His craft’s control panel was immediately dimmed, and a wormhole formed directly in front of the cockpit canopy. He closed his eyes during the transit, having learned from the previous two trips the difference it made for a head trip. Upon reopening them, Justin noted the