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

off its engines or damage the reactor enough that it SCRAMs. How exactly do you think a boarding team of Marines will repair the damage if you do that? The crew won’t help you, and our engineers won’t know how to use League tech.” He crossed his arms. “You’ll need to capture the freighter without disabling it.”

“That’s impossible,” Nishimura said with a scowl. “The assault shuttles we have at our disposal aren’t boarding pods. They can’t burrow into the hull of an enemy vessel, nor can they take a sustained pounding from point defense.”

Justin frowned as the officers debated the best course of action. It seemed as if every step forward brought one or two back.

“How long is the internal stores bay on a Ghost?” he blurted out, not thinking before he spoke.

“About three meters. Oh, that’s good.” Whatley grinned. “Three meters long and six meters wide.”

“I don’t follow,” Tehrani replied as she rubbed her temples.

“Marine power armor has self-contained life support,” Justin continued. “The internal stores bay is big enough for at least several Marines.”

MacIntosh had, up until that point, remained silent. He leaned forward. “Match speed with the enemy ship and open the bay. The Marines will use maneuvering units to latch onto the freighter then use a limpet mine or some explosive device to breach its hull and take the vessel by force.” His Scottish brogue grew stronger as he got more excited. “Now, that’s a braw plan, lads, and—” He glanced at Tehrani. “Ma’am.”

“No offense taken, Lieutenant.” A smile crept onto her face. “What does braw mean, though?”

“Great, fantastic, wonderful.”

Justin could barely suppress a laugh as the young Scotsman’s face turned bloodred.

“We need to test how many Marines can fit into the bay ASAP,” Nishimura said. “Let’s see—roughly fifty crew. I’d need to get at least fifteen to twenty shooters aboard to be assured of victory.”

“Get some of your guys down to the hangar deck in full armor, and we’ll test it now,” Whatley replied.

“I want to fly the capture mission.”

Tehrani’s and Whatley’s eyes bored into Justin. He gulped.

“No,” Whatley replied flatly.

“But—”

“That’s my mission.” Whatley’s tone brooked no rebuttal. “You will lead the attack on Earth. Final decision.”

A hush came over the conference room. Justin inclined his head respectfully. “Yes, sir.”

“Unless you have an objection, ma’am?” Whatley asked.

“Your division, Major.” Tehrani glanced between them. “Right now, we have a half-baked plan at best. Flesh it out then refine it, gentlemen. You’ve got six hours to get me an actionable assault briefing. By then, our stealth raiders should return from Earth reconnaissance. It’ll be time to plan our attack, execute it, and go home. Get to it.”

Everyone stood amid smatterings of “Aye, aye, ma’am!”

Justin made a beeline for the hatch and got to the gravlift before Whatley caught up with him.

“And just where do you think you’re going?”

“Uh, the mess, sir, followed by some rack time,” Justin replied as the gravlift doors slid shut.

“Wrong answer. We’ll swing by the mess and get combat ration bars, then you can join me on the hangar to test that cockamamie idea of yours.” Whatley stared at him. “You’d better hope it works. Or I’m going to PT you around the hangar until the Leaguers find us.”

Even with the weight of everything going on around him, Justin grinned. “Yes, sir.” Time to put up or shut up.

Uncharacteristically for Tehrani, she was nearly late to her own staff meeting. After answering the call to prayer, she’d spent some time reading the Quran and offering a prayer for their efforts. Somewhere, Tehrani had lost track of time as she poured out her soul to God. The weight of so many men and women felt heavy on her back as she pleaded with Allah to give her wisdom and guidance to see the Greengold and its pilots to victory. More important than beating the League was getting her crew home, and thoughts of how they could effectively get their cake and eat it too were at the forefront of her mind.

“Colonel on deck,” Wright barked as she crossed the hatch into the deck one conference room.

“As you were.” Tehrani scanned the table and chairs. Besides the XO, Whatley, Hodges, and MacIntosh lined the left side, while Nishimura and an officer she didn’t recognize stood on the right. Her eyes flicked to the newcomer.

He cleared his throat. “Apologies for the late arrival, ma’am. I thought it best to come in person to avoid any chance of comms leakage this close to enemy space. Lieutenant Colonel John Fielding, commanding officer of the CSV Astute.” He sported a proper posh British accent to go along with the flag of England on his shoulder.

“Ah,” Tehrani replied. “Please, take a seat, everyone.” She sat at the head of the table. “I haven’t had the chance to properly thank you for the Astute’s support during our last battle together, Colonel. Your ship performed superbly. I look forward to seeing more of your handiwork in the coming action.”

Fielding’s lips curled into a small smile. “Likewise, ma’am.”

He, too, dropped into the chair behind him, as did the rest of those assembled.

“There’s a lot of ground to cover, gentlemen. Major, what’s the reactor status?”

“Repairs are progressing, ma’am,” Hodges replied. His cockney accent was pronounced, and he had deep dark-purple half circles under his eyes. “I thought we might come up short on spare parts for refitting the coolant system, but the Salinan had everything we needed. Now it’s a matter of the manpower to complete the repairs.”

“I see. Do you have an ETA?”

“Two days, ma’am.”

Tehrani groaned inwardly. She couldn’t see hanging around in League space like a sitting duck for another forty-eight hours when it felt like any moment, the enemy might find them. Keeping a tight expression on her face, she kept her focus on the engineer. “What can be done to improve the number? Assign additional resources?”

“Well, if soldiers from deck force were brought in to help, they could take some load off my engineers.” Hodges’s face brightened. “Maybe