Hostile Spike (Battlegroup Z Book 2) Daniel Gibbs (classic book list txt) 📖

deck two. Let my chef know of any dietary requirements.” With a wry grin, Tehrani turned her head toward the rest of the flight deck. “Now, I think you were in the middle of a celebration. Don’t stop on my account.”

Regardless of what the ship’s commanding officer said, you didn’t do certain things in front of her, at least until someone else did it first. A few seconds passed before someone—Justin couldn’t tell who—started up the chant.

“Spen-cer! Spen-cer!” Each repeat of the name added more voices until, once more, the deck plates vibrated.

Someone grabbed Justin’s shoulders from behind, and he was thrust upward suddenly, into a sea of waiting hands. The chant continued as he was passed around the hangar bay by the throng of cheering crew members. Out of the corner of his eye, Justin could have sworn he saw Whatley joining in. He allowed himself to relax and enjoy the moment, temporarily banishing any other thoughts from his mind. I’m sure this is something you only get once in a career.

12

Unlike the pilots’ mess, the colonel’s table in the senior officers’ mess was a far more formal affair. He’d received a notification from her steward earlier in the evening to wear a khaki service uniform along with another request for dietary restrictions. While Justin briefly considered pranking them by citing an obscure set of religious guidelines, he decided it wasn’t a good idea to punk the commanding officer.

Justin grinned at the thought as he fit the ribbon bar onto his freshly pressed uniform and checked the spacing one more time in the mirror. Pilot wings, check. Name tag, check. Rank insignia, check. Memories of preparing for uniform inspection in flight school flooded into his mind. It had been virtually impossible to pass that particular inspection, and half the day afterward was spent doing hardcore physical training. I suppose that was the point. They wanted to see if we were tough enough to endure.

With everything set, he checked himself a final time and headed out into the passageway for a roughly ten-minute walk.

Arriving at his destination a few minutes early, Justin stared at the hatch. It looked like practically every other hatch on the ship, but the nameplate read Senior Officers Mess, CSV Zvika Greengold.

He cleared his throat. Oh, come on. They all put their pants on the same way I do. One leg at a time. No reason to be nervous. Forcing the butterflies in his stomach down, he pushed the hatch open and walked through.

“Lieutenant Spencer?” someone immediately to his right asked.

“The one and only.”

The voice belonged to a mess steward who wore a black dress uniform. “Colonel Tehrani has not yet arrived. Your seat at her table is marked.”

“Thank you.”

For a moment, Justin took in the room, which was considerably more ostentatious than he was used to. Plaques celebrating the Zvika Greengold lined the walls along with shadowbox displays of famous officers who’d served on her. One was dedicated to Captain Zvika Greengold himself. He looked at the exhibition’s first few lines, which related the history of Captain Greengold’s brave stand in an old war back on Earth. One tank versus hundreds of others. That’s bravery right there. The exhibit was similar to those in the Red Tails ready room, detailing the storied history of the squadron and General Benjamin Davis, Jr.

A small printed white sign was marked 1LT Justin Spencer along the side of the table, and he sat in the corresponding chair.

Being the first person there had its advantages—namely avoiding the spotlight for as long as possible. The second person in the door was of average height but had exceptionally broad shoulders and was wearing a Terran Coalition Marine Corps dress uniform.

I have to admit Marines look sharp. Justin grinned. He’d never had a desire to be a Marine. Noticing the new arrival’s rank insignia was that of a major, he stood.

“Lieutenant Spencer,” the Marine said, “good to meet you.” A grin spread across his face. “We’ve heard about your exploits all the way down in TCMC country.” He extended his hand. “Major Kosuke Nishimura.” The officer’s country flag was a red circle on a white background—Japan.

“The pleasure’s mine, Major Nishimura.” Justin took the outstretched hand and shook it warmly.

“First time to the wardroom?”

“Yes, sir.”

“The grub’s better.” He winked. “But it’s got nothing on the chief’s mess. That goes for CDF or TCMC. Our gunnery sergeants have the best food in the corps.”

“You know, I keep hearing that. I don’t get why,” Justin replied with a grin.

“Oh, simple. Senior enlisted personnel make the military go round. And you can bet your bottom credit they make sure the best stuff goes to them first.”

“So true,” someone interrupted.

Justin turned to see Colonel Tehrani and the XO of the Greengold, Major Wright. He stiffened and came to attention. “Ma’am.”

“At ease, Lieutenant.” Tehrani flashed a smile. “No customs or courtesies in the mess. Please, sit.”

She took her spot at the head of the table, and Wright slid down next to her.

Idle chitchat took up the next few minutes as others arrived—the rest of the bridge officers and the pilots, led by Whatley. He had Feldstein, Mateus, and Adeoye with him.

“What’s this? You got here early for once, Spencer?” Whatley asked with a chuckle. “We were hanging around, waiting for you outside, but I figured you were late.” He sat in the seat marked for him. “I guess our esteemed lieutenant here was working the boss for the next stripe.”

“Uh…” Justin’s face heated. “I’m always early, sir.”

“Just busting your chops, Spencer,” Whatley replied. “These young kids today. So easy to mess with.”

Nishimura laughed loudly. “You get ’em running around the hangar bay, looking for a bucket of thruster wash yet?”

Justin groaned inwardly. He’d fallen for that prank on his first day on the Zvika Greengold. “Don’t forget the infamous cable stretcher.”

Tehrani peered down the table. “Please tell me you did not fall for the cable stretcher.”

“I did, ma’am.” Justin’s cheeks couldn’t get any warmer.

She chuckled. “I remember being