Bandits Engaged (Battlegroup Z Book 4)

by Daniel Gibbs

  Justin sprang up, crossed the distance between them in two steps, and embraced her. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

  “Part of me wishes it’ll be me,” she whispered, voice cracking. “At least I wouldn’t have to see another friend die.” Feldstein stepped back and dried her tears with the cuff of her uniform sleeve. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

  “The war,” Justin replied. “It gets the better of everyone eventually.” He sucked in a breath. Time to change the subject before we get too close again. Justin found his heart going out to her.

  “You’re different lately.”

  Justin raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

  “There’s something about you. I can’t quite put my finger on it, though I did see you go into the chapel a few times.” She pursed her lips as she stared at him. “At the risk of sounding coy, did you find God?”

  After a long pause, Justin shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe He found me. I haven’t decided what I believe yet except that… well, reading the Bible brings me some comfort, and I think I’ve opened my mind to the possibility of something more beyond this life.”

  “I’m so glad for you.” Feldstein sucked in a breath. “I’d better get out of here. Time for a shower and some comfort food.”

  “Hey, wait up. CAG told me I have to address the…” Justin searched for words that didn’t highlight the death of his friend Lieutenant Martin. “Opening in the Winged Lightning squadron. I noticed you qualified in Maulers a few years ago but transferred to a space-superiority squadron.”

  Feldstein’s face contorted, and it appeared for a moment as if she would burst into tears again. “Justin, do you want me off the Red Tails?”

  Justin’s jaw dropped, and he blinked. “Of course not.”

  “Then why even bring it up?”

  “Because the CAG wants me to fill it, and you’re one of two candidates.” Good grief, I stepped in it this time.

  She took a step closer. “You’ve saved my life more times than I can count. And I’ve done the same for you. So with respect, sir, unless you don’t want me as your wingman anymore, I want to stay with the Red Tails.”

  Justin could feel the intensity of her words as they almost seemed to flow through him. “If you want to stay, then I’ll assign Martin’s XO to take his place.”

  “Good.” Feldstein gave a curt nod. “Look, quit beating yourself up about that night. We didn’t do anything. You’re a good man, Justin. I know that, and letting guilt get in the way will only get you killed when we start flying combat sorties again. I’m not losing you too.”

  “Okay. I’d better get back to this mountain of paperwork.” Justin forced a grin.

  “You do that.” As she walked toward the hatch, Feldstein turned back. “Take care of yourself, Justin.”

  After she was gone, Justin picked up the tablet he’d been working on and stared at it for some time, taking no action to turn the device on. I have to figure out how to move on without hurting Dvora’s feelings, keep the unit intact, and do my job. It bothered him to no end that a single moment of weakness could cause so much fallout months later. If Michelle finds out, she’ll kill me.

  CSV Zvika Greengold

  High Loop Parking Orbit—Canaan

  14 August 2434

  All replacement pilots were aboard along with provisions, supplies, and munitions. The Greengold was as ready to fight as she ever had been. Tehrani spent her morning preparing for departure and ensured she was present at the Salat al-fajr prayer service held at dawn. To keep things simple on the ship, the imam issued the call to prayer at 0600. With the last engineering checks completed, they were finally ready to depart a few minutes before 0800.

  “Hangar deck reports all craft secured by grav-arrestor fields. All systems nominal,” Wright said from his seat directly beside her. “All other departments confirm readiness, ma’am.”

  Once more unto the breach, we go. Tehrani tilted her head slightly. “Excellent, XO. Navigation, secure all umbilicals.”

  “Aye, aye, ma’am,” Second Lieutenant Leah Mitzner, the first watch navigation officer, replied. “All umbilicals retracted.”

  “Operating fully under our own power now, ma’am,” Wright interjected. “Reactor at one hundred percent of potential output.”

  “Navigation, release all moorings.”

  “Aye, aye, ma’am.” Mitzner paused for a moment. “Moorings released.”

  Tehrani leaned forward. “All ahead, dead slow. Maneuvering thrusters only.”

  “Aye, aye, ma’am.”

  The sides of the shipyard berth started moving almost imperceptibly at first, though each passing second brought increased speed. The blackness of the void, broken up solely by the Milky Way's stars, lay beyond, beckoning them forward.

  “Conn, Navigation. We are clear and free to navigate, ma’am.”

  “Navigation, come to course…” Tehrani glanced at her plot. “Two-three-five, declination ten degrees.”

  “Aye, aye, ma’am.”

  As the Greengold headed toward the Canaan Lawrence limit, Tehrani sat back. “It feels good to be back in the vacuum.” She turned her eyes to Wright. “What about you?”

  “The first week or so off the line, I had some relief, you know?” Wright replied. “I could sleep through the night without the general quarters klaxon sending me into the top of my bunk.”

  “I sense a but in there.”

  Wright nodded. “Once I was fully rested, I started feeling like I was shirking my duties somehow, not being out in the fight.”

  His comment resonated with Tehrani, as she’d had the same thoughts. I suspect any circumspect soldier feels the same way. “Now you understand why I was abrupt with our engineer last week.”

  “Touché, Skipper.” Wright furrowed his brow. “While we’re on the subject, I’d rather be out fighting Leaguers than some wannabe pirate with a few surplus fighters.”

  “Don’t be so quick to dismiss this enemy, XO.” Life had taught Tehrani never to underestimate an opponent. “We don’t know what we’re facing except that it’s a non-nation-state actor.”

  “Well, at least we won’t be running through the Leaguer heavy-cruiser buzzsaw. Convoy duty got brutal there for a bit.”

  “Thank Allah for that.” Tehrani shook her head. “Of course, if the neutrals would simply accept there’s a war on, form their ships into convoys, and mark the trade lanes they’re using, this would be a far easier task.”

  Wright snorted. “Nothing’s simple in interstellar politics, ma’am.”

  “Quite.”

  “Conn, Navigation. We’re clearing the Lawrence limit in sixty seconds, ma’am.”

  The “High Loop” orbit shipyard they had been in was significantly farther away from Canaan than most stations around the planet. As a result, it was far faster to the limit than a normal departure from CDF headquarters.

  “Navigation, plot a Lawrence drive jump to the first set of coordinates on our route to the border.”

  “Aye, aye, ma’am. Jump coordinates are plotted and ready to engage on your command.”

  She must’ve preplanned our route. Good—shows initiative. Tehrani counted down the seconds until they were past the limit, which was overlaid clearly on her plot as a bright dotted line. “Navigation, execute Lawrence jump.”

  “Aye, aye, ma’am.”

  The bridge lights dimmed immediately as the mighty Lawrence drive—the Terran Coalition’s only method of FTL travel—came to life. Directly ahead of the ship, a small vortex began to form. Over several seconds, it grew to a massive spatial feature with a kaleidoscope of color—blue, green, red, and orange. The artificial wormhole allowed nearly instantaneous travel to anywhere with its range, which for the Greengold was roughly seventy-five light-years.

  “Conn, Navigation. Wormhole stable, ma’am.”

  “Take us in.”

  It only took a few moments for the carrier to slip through the maw of the brightly colored wor
mhole and pop out the other side—with an entirely different set of stars.

  “Conn, Navigation. Transit complete, ma’am. Within five thousand kilometers of our target.”

  “XO, have engineering begin cool-down activities.” Tehrani sucked in a breath. “I want our next jump to proceed in two hours.”

  “Aye, aye, ma’am.”

  From there, they had two more jumps to reach the Marcus Luttrell, while the Astute along with the two converted Saurian frigates would join further into their patrol. The tactical plans Tehrani had already put together showed it was doubtful she would be able to keep Battlegroup Z together as one concentrated force. Spreading her ships out to cover a larger area of space was the only way they would be able to catch the pirates—as long as she balanced the danger posed by being too far apart to support one another. The next few weeks looked to be long indeed.

  4

  CSV Zvika Greengold

  Deep Space—Terran Coalition Border Zone

  21 August 2434

  With a full week of patrol activities under her belt, the Greengold and her crew received a few credible activity reports but had yet to encounter pirate forces. Two months of refits had added just enough cobwebs to their readiness that Tehrani ordered random battle drills to get the enlisted ratings back into shape. So far, they’d greatly improved their reaction times, and she was pleased with the progress.

  August 21 began like every other day in the void—with rote routines and sheer boredom. Tehrani was tempted to skip the morning watch and instead focus on paperwork but in the end decided if she could put off readiness reports for six hours, she would.

  “You okay, Skipper?” Wright asked.

  His voice brought Tehrani out of her thoughts. “Oh, yes.” She turned toward him. “I was thinking about the mound of paperwork I have to do when the morning is over.”

  “The only constant in the universe.”

  Tehrani leaned back. “Battlegroup status?”

  “Astute is poking around in deep space, watching a system with a lot of freighter traffic. The Marcus Luttrell is a few kilometers off our port side, and our two frigates are escorting a small group of vessels with cargoes of lithium.”

  She’d left detailing of the other ships’ assignments to Wright, mostly because he needed some joint command experience on his personnel review. It’s time for Benjamin to get his own command, and I’ll do my part later this year. A grin came to Tehrani’s face—her XO had no idea what she had planned.

  “Conn, Communications. I’m receiving a distress signal, ma’am.”

  “Put it on my viewer,” Tehrani replied.

  An image of a battle-scarred bridge appeared on the monitor directly above her head. Through waves of static and lines in the picture, a woman was visible. “This is the ISV Hadley to anyone in range. We’re under attack by unidentified vessels. Please, help us!” A burst of flame shot through the frame, and the screen went dark.

  Tehrani immediately went into battle mode as all other considerations drained from her mind. “Communications, get me 1MC.”

  “You’re on, ma’am.”

  “Attention, all hands. This is your commanding officer. General quarters, general quarters. Man your battle stations. Set material condition one throughout the ship. This is not a drill. I say again, this is not a drill.”

  As Tehrani spoke, the bridge lights dimmed and turned a deep blue while the alert klaxon blared.

  Bryan called out from his station, “Conn, TAO. Material condition one set throughout the ship. Battle stations manned and ready.”

  “Navigation, plot a Lawrence drive jump to the coordinates of the distress signal.” Tehrani glanced at Wright. “What’s on ready five?”

  “Four Sabres from the Red Tails and four Boars, ma’am.” Wright tapped at the controls built into the XO’s chair. “I’m ordering up additional elements from the air boss.”

  “Good.” Tehrani stared straight ahead. “TAO, raise shields and arm all point-defense weapons.”

  “Aye, aye, ma’am. Shields up. Point-defense online.”

  Tehrani avoided charging the energy capacitor, as she had no idea how far the jump would be. While Mitzner worked the Lawrence drive calculations, Tehrani took a moment. Allah, hear my prayer. Bless our efforts this day, and help us to rescue those who need our assistance while we destroy the evildoers.

  “Conn, Navigation. Coordinates plotted. Ready to jump on your command.”

  The report helped to focus all of Tehrani’s mental energy following the short prayer. “Communications, signal the Marcus Luttrell to follow us in and request support from all Battlegroup Z assets.”

  “Aye, aye, ma’am,” Singh replied quickly.

  “Navigation, activate the Lawrence drive.”

  Directly in front of the Zvika Greengold and visible through the transparent alloy windows on the bridge, a spatial vortex began to form. As the lights dimmed, the rift grew, and an artificial wormhole burst into being. A kaleidoscope of blue, red, purple, and orange radiated out from it, and the ship accelerated into its maw. Seconds later, they emerged on the other side.

  “Conn, TAO. Sensors coming online,” Bryan called a few moments after their arrival. “Hadley detected at eighteen hundred kilometers, ma’am. Designated as Sierra One. She’s venting atmosphere.” He paused, rechecking the board. “Two unknown vessels roughly the size of a corvette, designated Master One and Two, are engaging Sierra One. Numerous hostile small craft, ma’am.”

  Tehrani’s eyes went to her tactical plot. A swarm of red dots surrounded the single blue icon. She zoomed in on Master One and Two, trying to determine from their silhouettes what they were. I’ve never seen anything like that before. They were similar in size and design to each other but different. It’s like someone took a small cargo hauler and tried to make a gunboat out of it. “TAO, charge the energy weapons capacitor. Navigation, intercept course, Sierra One. All ahead flank.”

  “Whatcha thinking, Skipper?” Wright asked.

  “Extend our shields around the freighter and engage the hostiles, and hopefully they’ll fall back.”

  “And if not?”

  “I detest bullies, Major. Get our fighters into space.” Tehrani grinned.

  “Aye, aye, ma’am.”

  “Communications…” Tehrani began as she turned to Singh. “Open a wide-spectrum channel. I want to talk to whoever’s flying those ships.”

  “One moment, ma’am. You’re live.”

  Tehrani set her jaw and stared directly at the camera for the bridge vidlink. “Attention, hostile vessels. I am Colonel Banu Tehrani of the Coalition Defense Force. You are in violation of Terran Coalition space. Cease fire and power down your weapons immediately, or we will destroy you. This is your final warning.”

  “Conn, TAO. Master One and Two have locked weapons, ma’am. Multiple anti-ship missile launches detected.”

  “So much for a peaceful resolution,” Tehrani replied. Part of her was glad for the opportunity to show the criminals they faced what happened when the forces of justice caught up with them. “TAO, firing point procedures, forward neutron beams, Master One.” As the closest enemy, they drew the short straw.

  “Firing solutions set, ma’am. Thirty seconds to weapons range.”

  Orders and counterorders were volleyed across the bridge. Tehrani maintained her singular focus on engaging the pirate ships as she stared at the tactical plot and willed the Greengold to move faster. They won’t escape.

  “Launch, launch, launch!”

  Justin didn’t need to be told twice. He punched the throttle of his SF-86 Sabre forward, and the fighter roared out of the hangar bay. The blackness of the void lay beyond, a momentarily beautiful sight before his HUD populated with enemy targets and the stricken freighter they hoped to save. The other three craft in his flight element registered right behind him. “Alpha, break to heading zero-six-two, max speed, and engage afterburners.”

  “Wilco, sir,” Feldstein replied.

&nbs
p; The kilometers rushed by as the four of them raced toward the enemy. Justin felt a gnawing in his stomach. Simple math suggested there was no way they’d make it in time.

  Suddenly, twin blue spears of concentrated neutron beams reached out from the Zvika Greengold, smacking one of the hostile ships. Way to go, Colonel. The enemy's reaction was instantaneous—they broke off and headed toward the CDF forces at a high rate of speed.

  “I don’t recognize this model of interceptor,” Adeoye said. “Do any of you?”

  “Human built for sure,” Mateus replied. “Notice on the close-up scan image how it has a bubble canopy. I’d wager these are designs from Lusitania or one of the other prosperous non-Coalition colonies.”

  Justin was impressed by the impromptu intelligence analysis. “Didn’t realize you’d transferred over to CIS, Lieutenant.” He let out a chuckle then directed his attention back to the sensor readout. Ten enemy fighters were on a direct intercept course. Against Leaguers, those weren’t horrible odds, but the incoming bandits' combat specifications were unknown. “Alpha flight, spike the closest bandits and stand by to release missiles. Once we put a volley into space, we’ll close rapidly to guns range and mix it up.” When overwhelmed, getting inside the enemy's missile-launch envelope tended to even the odds, depending on a pilot's training level.

  “Wilco, sir,” Feldstein replied.

  The missile-lock-on buzzer blared. Justin shifted his thumb and gently squeezed the launch button integrated into his flight stick. “Alpha One, fox three.” An active-LIDAR-tracking Vulture missile dropped from the internal stores in the fuselage of his Sabre and zoomed into the void. It was quickly joined by warheads from the other three craft in Alpha’s formation.

  As Justin careened toward the enemy with his wingmen, the ten bandits heading toward them loosed their own anti-fighter missiles. Alpha added another salvo into the mix, and electronic countermeasure systems from both sides went to work. As the Boars in Gamma element were a couple of minutes behind, they hadn’t ranged on the hostiles quite yet.