Sol Strike (Battlegroup Z Book 3) Daniel Gibbs (readict books .TXT) 📖

“Attention on deck!” came a deep, raspy voice through the PA system. “VIP is three minutes out. Assume honor guard positions.”

“I’m glad I’m not an enlisted lifer,” Feldstein said. “Or I’d end up sounding like the master chief too.”

Her comment brought chuckles from the pilots around them as they lined up into neat rows. An honor guard of Marines formed two lines around a red carpet. At the end of it, Tehrani and the rest of the senior officers formed a row. Justin could barely make it out from his vantage point, but it appeared as if a lectern and a portable PA had been set up.

A shuttle flew through the force field protecting the hangar from the vacuum and expertly put down on the deck. The ramp immediately opened, lined up perfectly with the red carpet. Six men and women in sharp business suits came down and took up defensive positions around the craft.

“Hey,” Mateus whispered, “that thing’s got the presidential seal on it.”

Her words were like a key clicking into a lock inside Justin’s mind. Whoa. Nolan, here?

Moments later, Jason Nolan emerged from the shuttle and walked down the ramp. The honor guard came to attention along with everyone else. He quickly crossed the carpet and strode up to Tehrani. Though Justin was too far to hear the words spoken, he observed the two of them shaking hands warmly before Tehrani stepped behind the lectern. Justin wasn’t sure what he thought of the commander in chief lately. He’d voted against him in the last election, but the war had changed everything. Perhaps it had changed Nolan for the better.

“Mr. President, please allow me to apologize for not having a larger reception prepared for you,” Tehrani said into the mic. “It is an honor to host the president of the Terran Coalition on our humble vessel. Welcome, and thank you for coming.”

Nolan again shook her hand and took his place behind the stand. “At ease.” He waited for a moment as everyone relaxed into a parade rest posture. “Did I get that right?”

A wave of laughter swept through the bay.

“Most of you are wondering what I’m doing here, especially on such short notice. First, I want to thank all of you from the bottom of my heart. The fighting spirit of this ship is worth ten more Thane-class carriers. Know that our nation values your service and the sacrifices collectively made. Second, I’ve come in person today because there is a special, dangerous mission on which I’m going to send the Zvika Greengold.” He paused as if gathering his thoughts. “The Terran Coalition cannot stay on the defensive.”

“Oh boy,” Feldstein whispered.

“Shhh!” someone hissed.

“Along those lines, I’ve decided to order an attack on the Sol System. This mission is dangerous. It’s risky, and you may not return. But I believe we must show the League it cannot strike us with impunity and that we can hit them anytime, anywhere, any place, including Earth itself. I would prefer not to order you to take this assignment.”

Shocked silence greeted him for several seconds. Then someone shouted at the top of their lungs, “Fight the good fight!” The sound carried across the hangar, echoing off the walls.

A moment later, the entire assembled company responded, “No matter the odds!” The tumult from their voices shook the deck plating.

While the wild cheering continued, Feldstein leaned in and whispered into Justin’s ear, “I’m surprised none of the pilots talked. Most of the ship is acting like this is news.”

Justin nodded and whispered into her ear, “Maybe they’re good at faking it.”

She shook her head and flashed a smile as everyone continued to chant, “No matter the odds!”

Nolan held up his hands in an attempt to quiet the crowd. “I guess that answers that.” He grinned as another wave of applause swept the hangar. “Then all I have to say, warriors of the Coalition Defense Force, is this: show the League they’re at our mercy. Good hunting, good luck, and Godspeed!”

Cheers, hollering, and clapping continued to echo off the deck. Justin felt the energy of released emotion all around him, and a part of him looked forward to the payback for the assault on Canaan. Now everyone knows why they got to say goodbye to their families. He suspected when the glow of knowing they were going to hit the League home world faded, many would ponder whether they were coming home. I certainly am.

Rustling came from behind him, and a hand clamped down on his shoulder. “Spencer, get over here,” Whatley said. “President Nolan wants to meet the squadron commanders.”

“Yes, sir.” Justin cast a glance toward Feldstein. “Go find Adeoye and Mateus. They need to meet the president too.” He grinned.

“Now, Captain,” Whatley grumbled and tugged at Justin’s shoulder.

It took a few minutes to get through the throng of enlisted personnel and junior officers. Nolan, surrounded by his security detail, was engaged in an animated conversation with Tehrani and Wright, the tail end of which Justin caught as he walked up with Whatley.

“I had no idea your husband was an economics professor, Colonel,” Nolan said. “Too bad we can’t drop him behind enemy lines to deliver some lectures on the evils of communism.”

Wright, Tehrani, and a few others laughed politely at the joke.

“I’d rather him keep teaching his students,” Tehrani replied. “Knowing my family is safe allows me to keep my head completely focused on combat.”

“I can understand your feelings there.” Nolan paused and pursed his lips. “Though I will confess my lack of military service keeps me from knowing precisely how it feels to have a loved one in harm’s way. If there’s one major regret in my life now, it’s that I didn’t serve.”

Justin felt surprised. The comment was oddly candid and even vulnerable from a politician. Maybe he’s not as bad as the rest of the political class. He stood politely behind Whatley, waiting quietly for the CAG’s introduction.

“Mr. President, I’ve got the pilots you asked for here.