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

“You’d get along well with Nolan,” Saurez replied. “Some people respond differently in situations like these. It’s all well and good to proclaim a fight without surrender, but I’d say collectively, our population lacks the stomach for dying to the last man and woman.” He shrugged. “What I’m trying to say is the general population, especially the core worlds used to a life of plenty and luxury, aren’t as mentally tough as you or I.”

Tehrani grinned. “Tell me something I don’t know, sir.”

“Ha.” Saurez turned serious. “Have you made any judgments on the likelihood of success?”

“I’ll be reserving making one until my pilots put the upgrades to the Ghost platform through their paces.”

Saurez inclined his head. “After the briefings lately, with one group of officers thinking we’re weeks from doom and others thinking we’re weeks from victory, I appreciate the pragmatism and restraint, Colonel.” He paused and pursed his lips. “I want nothing more than this somewhat-harebrained scheme to work. But I, too, must be pragmatic.”

Tehrani’s stomach churned. He’s about to drop something. “Of course, sir.”

“The battlegroup going with you will include four stealth raiders and one deep-space supply and support ship.” Saurez sucked in a breath. “What you won’t find in your orders is that the other vessels are the oldest ships we could find in active service. To be blunt, Colonel, I can’t risk losing vessels with long life spans ahead of them.”

“Yes, sir.” Part of Tehrani’s mind was on fire with anger. How dare they send us out to attack Earth, of all places, with old, worn-out ships? At the same time, she got it. The war wasn’t going well, and every vessel they lost put the Terran Coalition one step closer to final defeat.

“You’re taking this surprisingly well.”

Tehrani shrugged. “Sir, orders are orders. I don’t get to pick and choose. What’s the old poem say? Theirs not to reason why but to do and die.”

“Into the jaws of death, into the mouth of hell.” Saurez frowned. “I know that one, too, Colonel. For what it’s worth, if any Thane-class carrier in our fleet can pull this off, it’s the Zvika Greengold. You’ve got more battle stars than the fleet carriers do, and I think your pilots have kill counts to rival entire squadrons.”

“We’ll do our best. That much, I can promise you, General. Perhaps with Allah’s help, victory will be granted.”

“It’s funny you put it that way.” Saurez steepled his fingers. “I was never much on religion. With a name like Saurez, though, one’s mother tends to drag you to Catholic Mass, whether you want to go or not.” His face broke into a grin. “I’ve been to Mass more times in the last six months than I have in the past thirty years.”

“Much the same with me. Both my husband and I were what you would call, ah, cultural Muslims. I don’t think I even own a headscarf. Allah was a nebulous concept to me. I assumed He created the universe and stopped bothering with the rest of us. Now, I can’t get through the day without going to prayer. If I didn’t have my faith to fall back on, I couldn’t soldier on in the face of all this death and destruction.”

“Colonel, I wish I could walk with you in the dark places you must go during the next few months.” The earnestness of Saurez’s words lent credence to them. “I give you my word that as old as they may be, I’ll see to it the ships making the trip with you are well maintained and ready to fight.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“One last thing. President Nolan has, against the express objection of the Joint Chiefs and the Secretary of Defense, decided he wants to visit the Zvika Greengold. I believe he means to request the ship’s company volunteer for the assignment.”

Left unspoken was the need for everyone on the vessel to roger up. The Coalition Defense Force doesn’t work on requests. Only orders. Tehrani grinned. “I don’t think we’ll have any problem with that, sir. But it would be nice to let the crew have some shore leave and see their families before we head out.”

Saurez leaned back and laughed uproariously. “Well played, Colonel Tehrani. This discussion is going in the back of my head if I ever see your file on my desk for promotion to brigadier general.”

“As a positive, sir?”

“Oh, you’ll just have to wait to find out,” he replied with mirth in his tone. “I think it’s a fair request. Call it a horse trade. I’ll have my exec let you know the particulars, and we’ll see about getting as many families as possible sent to Canaan or maybe New Washington. Yes, New Washington, as it’s near your jump-off point. Godspeed, Colonel. Until next time.”

“Godspeed, General.”

The screen went blank, leaving Tehrani to her thoughts. As much as it bothered her that they were journeying with an understrength battlegroup and taking enormous risks, the thrill of sticking it to the League of Sol was undeniable. We’ve lost so many. To repay the enemy in kind by attacking their home and make them feel the same fear our citizens do… She could believe in that mission.

3

CSV Zvika Greengold

Deep Space

12 March 2434

The next few weeks flew by for Tehrani, and she suspected the entire crew felt the same way. Around-the-clock inspections, refits, and upgrades kept them all quite busy. Once the work orders ran out and the ship was certified for active combat duty once more, she received orders to rendezvous with a vessel assigned to the Coalition Intelligence Service in deep space. The entire thing felt like a cloak-and-dagger routine out of a holodrama as she sat in the CO’s chair, waiting in the middle of nowhere.

“TAO, anything on sensors?”

Bryan pivoted his head. “No, ma’am. No changes in the last five minutes.”

He’s probably getting sick of me asking him repeatedly. Tehrani furrowed her brow. “Did I mention I don’t like spies?”

“You and everyone else in the CDF,”