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

MacIntosh grinned. “When I was a flag lieutenant for General Irvine, reviewing tactical planning was my specialty, sir. I picked up a lot of tricks in terms of intel review.”

“So, something I’ve been meaning to ask, seeing as I’m responsible for the crew… what’s a rising star who just pinned on O-3 doing assigned to an escort carrier? Your service jacket said you were on Saurez’s team.”

It was bound to come up sooner or later. MacIntosh was surprised it had taken the XO so long to drill into why he was there. “I, uh, prefer not to speak of it, sir.” Okay, that sounded lame. As Wright’s stare continued, MacIntosh tried a different tactic. “I spoke out of turn repeatedly.” He gulped. “In front of the president.”

“You were involved in presidential briefings?” Wright’s eyebrows shot up.

“Yes, sir. As General Saurez’s senior staff officer, I prepared his projections and assisted in their delivery. It was my post with General Irvine too.”

“Were you there, at the battle of Canaan?”

MacIntosh looked away and pursed his lips. “I was.” Dark memories of the worst day of his life flooded into his mind. “Moreover, I was on the bridge when the Victory was disabled.”

Silence descended over the small room. The battle of Canaan meant different things to different people but was something every citizen of the Coalition understood. Every person was able to say exactly where they were and what they were doing when it happened—doubly so for the soldiers who’d fought through the bloody day.

“Too many heroes,” Wright replied, ending the silence. “We lost a third of our pilots in two hours. And a few hundred soldiers.”

MacIntosh recalled the incredible sacrifices made. “Did you see Major Cohen’s final attack?”

Wright nodded. “I’ll never forget the sight of his ship going into the side of that League dreadnought. He saved us all.” He bit his lip. “So many times in that battle, I thought we were dead for sure. But somehow, we’re still here.”

“There were times when I thought those who perished might’ve been the lucky ones.” He brought his eyes back around to meet Wright’s. “That has thankfully passed.”

“So, you pissed off COMSPACEFLT?”

MacIntosh grinned. “Yes, sir. President Nolan wanted options for striking the League, and I gave him one.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Wright replied. “I’ve got little time for brass, anyway. No demerits against you there.” He narrowed his eyes. “This assignment is punishment, then?”

“Perhaps to the general.” MacIntosh’s eyes flashed defiance. “But not to me. It’s an honor to be here, on the sharp tip of the spear.” His brogue became more pronounced as anger stirred in him. “And I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

Wright put his hand on MacIntosh’s shoulder. “Whatever anyone else says, Captain, I love the attitude. How close to being done are you?”

“Another hour at the most, sir.”

“Good.” Wright stood. “Senior staff meets at fourteen hundred hours, giving you a little over two hours to wrap it up. Be there in your khakis. Colonel Tehrani likes a level of formality in her briefings.”

Since MacIntosh had a blue engineering jumpsuit on, it was valuable advice. “Thank you, sir.”

“Carry on, Captain.” Wright stood and saw himself out.

The interior door slid shut, leaving MacIntosh to the quiet of his thoughts and the faint whirring of electronics. He looked back at the intelligence-review application displayed on the screens and tried to focus on the task at hand, but memories of the Victory’s bridge and how it had looked after the ship’s near destruction flooded his mind along with the still-raw image of General Irvine mortally wounded and clutching his hand. Rest in peace, ma’am. It’s a small thing, but I will soon get some measure of vengeance for you and all the others we lost.

MacIntosh resolutely pressed forward. Death was coming for the League, and he was happy to be its harbinger.

Justin had never landed a fighter so fast. From clearance to docking to post-touchdown roll-off, everything happened at light speed. He barely had time to wave at Feldstein and toss his flight helmet onto a supply shelf before he took off at a run toward the nearest gravlift. The passageways of the Greengold flew by, and by the time he arrived at the conference room on deck one, he’d worked up a sweat. With a glance at the Marine sentries guarding the bridge access at the end of the corridor, Justin pushed the hatch open to the appointed meeting area.

Tehrani and the rest of them were already seated. Whatley, Hodges, Major Wright, Major Nishimura, and Lieutenant MacIntosh all sat on the table’s left side, while the right side was unoccupied.

“Captain Justin Spencer reports as ordered, ma’am,” he said as he brought himself to attention.

“At ease, Captain. Please, take a seat,” Tehrani answered quickly. She gestured to the empty right side of the conference table. “We’re most interested in your report.”

Justin couldn’t recall the last time he’d been in a senior officers’ briefing. Check that. I’ve never been in one. He slid into one of the open seats and made eye contact with Tehrani. “Uh, yes, ma’am.”

“Out with it, son,” Whatley rasped. “We don’t have all day.”

“We found a small-scale mining operation around a gas giant, sir. Roughly half a million miles from the Lawrence limit in system Gamma Cephei.” Justin took a deep breath and steadied himself. “During our recon pass, no military vessels were observed, and only a couple of freighters.”

“How many, exactly?” Nishimura leaned forward. “Size? Did you get passive scans, by any chance?”

“Yes, sir. We deep-scanned all three. Same make and model of ship, as far as I could tell. Haulers with cargo pods, less than fifty life signs on each.”

Tehrani furrowed her brow. “Run those scans through AI analysis. Knowing their weapons- and defensive-system configurations will be vital to success.”

“At a high level,” Whatley added. “Jump in, disable a freighter, board it, and use it to get the helium-3 fuel. Then jump out.”

“That won’t work,” Hodges interjected. “The only way to disable a ship is to shoot