Hostile Spike (Battlegroup Z Book 2) Daniel Gibbs (classic book list txt) đ
- Author: Daniel Gibbs
Book online «Hostile Spike (Battlegroup Z Book 2) Daniel Gibbs (classic book list txt) đ». Author Daniel Gibbs
âYou need it,â Tehrani replied with some mirth. âCheck this out.â She turned her screen to face him.
Wright scanned over it. âOh. Yeah. That doesnât seem good. Not only does it look like someoneâs tracking us, but whoever it is seems to have figured out where the most damaged freighters are.â
âGot it in one, XO.â Tehrani turned back toward the front of the bridge. âWeâll have more small craft on deck inâŠâ She checked the shipâs time. âTwenty-three minutes.â
âThe last report I saw from the Marcus Luttrell indicated main propulsion was fully operational, and they had all weapons back online.â Wrightâs face betrayed worry. âThat little ship seems to get shot to hell and back a bit too often for my taste.â He grumbled. âWe oughta have at least a heavy cruiser, eight destroyers, and a small fleet of frigates out here, with another escort or light carrier.â
âWhatâs that expression you like to use? âWhen pigs flyâ?â
Wright laughed loudly. âThatâs it, maâam.â
The bridge momentarily quieted, and Tehrani took a moment to ponder her XOâs words. As the commanding officer of an escort carrier, sheâd been trained for convoy escort duty. Past wargames had shown just what he mentionedâstrong carrier battlegroups backed up with capital-ship firepower watching over large formations of freighters. Key to their plans was an ample number of fast space-warfare vesselsâdestroyers and frigatesâto prevent an enemy from nibbling at their flanks. Now they ask us to protect dozens of civilian ships with a force barely large enough for customs duty on a core world. An undercurrent of fear coupled with anger ran through Tehrani. She pushed it down and focused on her task.
In times past, CDF officers grumbled about command and the Joint Chiefs being too cautious, not committing enough warships, or one of any number of common complaints. But the problem wasnât with headquarters. We lost so many ships at the Battle of Canaan that itâs a small miracle our tiny battlegroup is still functional.
A change on the tactical plot caught her eye. âTAO, confirm sensor ghost has closed to two hundred thousand kilometers.â
Bryan turned around. âIt has, maâam. Iâm not getting strong enough echoes off its hull or propulsion to give you an estimate on what class of ship it is.â
âToo bad we donât have a stealth raider with us,â Tehrani muttered. They were clearly about to get jumped. Allah help us if they bring another heavy cruiser. She reached down and punched the 1MC intercom. âAttention, all hands. This is Colonel Tehrani. General quarters. General quarters. Man your battle stations. I say again, man your battle stations. Set material condition one throughout the ship. This is not a drill. I say again, this is not a drill.â
The lights on the bridge immediately faded to blue, which had the effect of making the screens and consoles easier to see. A klaxon sounded once and cut out. Throughout the rest of the vessel, it would blare for five minutes. Anyone not awake after that was probably already dead.
Wright leaned in. âGoing to GQ this early?â
âBest to be prepared.â
âYou realize the uniform of the day is camo, right?â Wright asked.
Tehrani turned toward him, annoyed until she saw the wide grin plastered on his face. âSeriously, Major?â
Wright snickered. âWell, just saying. Your uniform is a bit⊠well, ripe.â He raised an eyebrow. âIs your command-in-space insignia out of place there? I think the ribbon barâs off too.â
She shot back a withering look. âDonât push a good joke too far.â Unable to keep a straight face, Tehrani smiled. âThanks. I needed that.â
âDonât mention it, maâam.â He sighed. âCaptain Shikoba just reported a minimum of two hours before the freighters can jump.â
âAll of them?â
âMerchant Marines are pretty gung-ho on sticking together. They all go, or none of them do.â
While Tehrani could respect the sentiment, if a few freighters had to be sacrificed to get the overall convoy through, that was what her duty demanded. And whatâs a few more nightmares for a fleet officer to deal with? âDo we have the ability to override their navigation consoles remotely and trigger a jump?â
âUh⊠er, umâŠâ Wrightâs eyes nearly popped out of his skull. âIâm not sure, maâam. Iâll dig into it.â
âWhile youâre at it, perhaps you should perform a uniform inspection for the rest of our bridge team.â Tehrani smiled wickedly. âSince youâre handing out demerits.â
âI think we can pass on that for now,â he shot back before directing his gaze to the screen attached to his chair.
Despite her attempt at a breezy attitude, mostly for her crewâs morale, Tehrani privately despaired. She couldnât imagine a situation in which the Leaguers didnât throw everything they had at the convoy. If they do, we probably wonât survive. The thought sobered her, though at the same time, it caused Tehrani to focus every bit of creativity and tactical prowess she possessed on finding an advantage. A prayer went through her mind. Allah, watch over Your warriors, and if it is Your will, grant us victory over this enemy.
An obnoxious klaxon woke Justin from his slumber. It felt like only moments before, heâd finally fallen into sleep. He wiped his eyes, carefully removing the hard crust that had built up around their edges, and blinked a few times.
Thatâs the scramble alarm. Like a bullet, he shot out of bed and raced to the bathroom, where he relieved himself quickly. No time for a shower. I guess Iâll smell up my flight suit. He rapidly pulled the one-piece jumpsuit that went under his space-rated flight suit, then he took the journey from his quarters to the flight deck at an all-out run.
âI donât think that mustache is in regulation, sir,â Feldstein called as Justin entered the Red Tails locker room to put on his space-rated flight suit.
âYeah, probably not. Donât forget to tell the major.â
Feldstein snickered as she locked the seals on her boots in place. âHowâd
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