Hostile Spike (Battlegroup Z Book 2) Read online

  Walking aft of the hangar decks, Justin came to the same section as the religious and worship spaces. A ship the size of the Greengold, as small as it was for a carrier, still had a relatively large crew for a space-going military vessel. Accordingly, the ship had different chapels for the Terran Coalition’s various major religions along with a multipurpose space for belief systems with fewer followers. The shul was located here, its blue Star of David prominently displayed. A few meters down the passageway sat the Christian church, used by all denominations of the faith. For a moment, he paused outside of its doors.

  It’s nothing short of a miracle that I’m still alive. Justin stared at the double hatch. No. It was just luck. How did my statistics professor put it in college? Low-probability events do occur. Justin set his jaw. What happened today was simply proof of random chance. I got lucky.

  He turned on his heel and walked back to the gravlift that would take him to the right deck for his cabin.

  Ten minutes later, Justin stepped into the lift. “Deck eight,” he announced.

  Before the pod could move, another soldier ducked through the door. A young man, he looked to be a teenager still. The youngster came to attention. “Sir!”

  Justin peered at him. “At ease, Private…” He searched for the soldier’s nameplate. “Waters.”

  “If I may ask, sir, what was it like out there?” Waters asked as the gravlift started to move.

  “Pandemonium. Pure chaos.” Justin shook his head. “But we won.”

  “We’re all so proud of you, escaping that League cruiser like you did, sir.” Waters beamed. “That’s holovid-hero stuff right there.”

  “Just lucky, I guess.” Justin didn’t feel like talking, and after an evening spent with the spotlight firmly focused on him, he was done.

  “I would’ve been doing some real praying, if it had been me.”

  Justin chuckled. “For what it’s worth, I did offer up a prayer. Not sure if anyone was listening, though.”

  “If I might ask, sir, what did you pray about?”

  “I asked God, or whatever force controls the universe, to help me get home to my wife and daughter,” Justin replied. He felt a bit annoyed at the line of questioning and didn’t appreciate having his beliefs questioned.

  Waters tilted his head. “Sounds like your prayer was answered.” He grinned. “I always figured if something was too improbable, maybe God was looking out for us.”

  Justin shrugged. “I suppose. I’m not much on religion, Private.” He glanced at the young man’s uniform and saw the religious flag of Christianity under the country patch. “No disrespect intended. My take is we’re alone, and well…” Justin forced a grin. “Not supposed to talk about religion and politics, right?”

  Waters laughed. “That’s what my mother used to say, sir.” The gravlift stopped, and the doors swung open. “Well, this is my stop. Again, congratulations on some crazy flying.” With one foot out of the lift, he turned back toward Justin. “One thing, if I may, sir. A good man is never alone. No matter how much it feels like we are, God is always beside us.”

  “Thank you, Private.” Justin couldn’t think of anything else to say.

  The young man brought himself to attention once more. “Good evening, sir.”

  “Carry on, Private.” As Waters walked away, the doors closed, and the gravlift moved on. Justin retreated into his thoughts. I envy people who believe in something else, because they don’t have to face reality alone. Part of him felt guilty for forming a prayer when all seemed lost, even though he didn’t believe.

  A few minutes later, he entered his cabin, stripped off his clothes, and climbed into bed. He repeatedly awoke in the middle of a recurring nightmare throughout the night: the destruction of his Sabre and an added sensation of burning to death. Rest was fleeting.

  13

  The difference a day makes, Tehrani reflected as she walked through the hatch to her day cabin. Taking on food and resupplying our munitions magazines under the watchful eye of a CDF space station is far better duty than counting the minutes to a jump and hoping the League doesn’t show up. The Zvika Greengold had gotten banged up pretty good in the last engagement, but it was doing far better than after the Battle of Canaan.

  Tehrani had scheduled a private meeting with her XO and the CAG for first thing in the morning, and she only managed to get through seventeen administrative paperwork actions before the buzzer chimed.

  She looked up. “Come in.”

  The hatch swung open, and Wright strode in. He came to attention before the desk. “Major Wright reports as ordered, ma’am.”

  “At ease,” Tehrani replied. “Please, sit.”

  Wright swung himself into the chair. “How’d you sleep?”

  “Better than the night before. What about you?”

  “I got to talk to my wife last night, and between that and knowing there’s a small fleet protecting us… I slept like a baby.” He broke into a broad grin. “The crew’s starting to talk about this being a lucky ship.”

  “Oh?” Tehrani stared at him with a raised eyebrow.

  “I know you don’t like hearing the luck word. But they view our string of victories as you having something a little extra going in your favor.”

  Tehrani leaned back. “The something extra is Allah,” she said quietly. “At least, it’s what I’ve retreated into.”

  “You know, before about six weeks ago, I heard you talk about your religion maybe five times in two years. Now? Every day. What happened?”

  He had a point. Tehrani turned her palms up and shrugged. “Confronting death daily makes one turn to faith?” She let out a sigh. “It comforts me. What can I say? I haven’t offended you, have I?”

  “Not at all.” Wright pursed his lips. “The truth is, I’ve been doing a lot of praying myself. Cracked my Bible open and actually read some of it.” He smiled. “I found that perhaps I’ve done an excellent job of labeling myself a Christian but not living it.”

  “I came to the same conclusion.”

  “Well, thankfully, it’s something we can both work on.”

  “Unless our time is up,” Tehrani replied. “I’ve found myself thinking about what comes after this life, especially after our close calls recently.”

  “Skipper, that’s everyone on this ship.” Wright cracked a grin. “Even our CAG, who ain’t afraid of anything.”

  Tehrani laughed loudly.

  Before she could speak, the intercom on her desk went off. “Colonel, this is Lieutenant Singh. We have a small situation here, ma’am.”

  “What is it, Lieutenant?” What possible situation could we have in orbit of a space station? By Allah, please let us have one day of rest.

  “I’ve got a gentleman from the Coalition Intelligence Service in the conference room. He’s asked for you and Major Whatley to meet him. His security credentials check out at the highest level, and he says it’s extremely urgent.”

  Tehrani exchanged glances with Wright. “Spooks. The only thing worse than civilians.”

  “You got that right, skipper.” Wright made a face. “Shall we?”

  Before either one of them could move, the hatch swung open again. “Sorry I’m late,” Whatley said as he walked in. “I got caught up chewing out the aviation-deck force again.”

  “We were just going to the conference room, Major,” Tehrani replied. She stood and stretched. “We have a visitor from CIS.”

  Whatley’s expression darkened. “Spooks. Ugh. Anything but spooks.”

  “Amen,” Wright said with a grin as he stood as well.

  “Shall we, gentlemen?” Tehrani asked.

  Both men stood aside, and she strode past them into the corridor. The conference room was only a few steps away. She opened the hatch and pushed it inward to find one person already there. He was a nondescript human male, in every sense of the word—average height, average hair, not too handsome, and didn’t stick out except for his perfectly pressed business suit. The perfect spy.
<
br />   The newcomer sprang from his chair as the three officers walked in. “Colonel Tehrani, so good to meet you. I’m Thomas Grant, with the Coalition Intelligence Service.” He flashed a smile. “Special-activities division.” He glanced between Wright and Whatley. “I requested your CAG but not Major Wright. I’m afraid this is strictly need-to-know information we’re about to discuss.”

  “In that case, you can get off my ship, Agent Grant.” Tehrani’s smiled. “On the Zvika Greengold, I give the orders.”

  “Colonel—”

  Tehrani held up her hand, palm out, as she spoke.“Mr. Grant, whatever you want us to do, my executive officer has to help me implement it. He will be present for this meeting, or you can find someone else.”

  Grant blinked. His body language had been that of someone in complete control of the situation, but his shoulders sagged after her statement, and a frown crossed his face. He opened his mouth, shut it, then opened it again. “Okay. Major Wright can stay.” He locked eyes with her. “If a leak comes out of this ship, I’ll have you all charged with treason. Do I make myself clear?”

  “You do.” Tehrani crossed her arms. What in the galaxy is this man up to, and what does he want with my ship? Every alarm bell in her mind rang at the same time.

  “With that out of the way, I wanted to thank you for capturing the League fighter down in your hangar bay.” Grant smiled toothily in an almost-creepy way. “We’ve been waiting for a break like this. My analysts have been reviewing the onboard navigation data all night.”

  “You’ve had people on my ship?” Tehrani interjected.

  “Yes.”

  She balled her fist under the table. “And I wasn’t notified?”

  “Colonel, we’re at war, and loose lips sink ships. Besides, I’m telling you now.” Grant flashed the creepy grin again. “CIS has, for the past few weeks, worked around the clock to determine how the League was able to attack us in such overwhelming numbers with no indication of anything amiss. What we found on the captured craft is a piece of the puzzle. Our Leaguer friends seem to have portable deep-space supply depots scattered across our territory.”

  “What?” Whatley exclaimed. “That’s illogical. If nothing else, civilian police patrols would’ve spotted them.”

  “Not if they’re outside of solar system boundaries and in interstellar space.”

  They all stared at the spy.

  Wright shook his head. “Our sensor networks don’t cover that?”

  Grant laughed. “The Terran Coalition is exceedingly good at preparing for the last war, Major. The Saurians wanted territory in our conflicts with them. They moved from system to system, engaging in pitched battles for resource-heavy planets. As a result, the CDF is set up to defend planetary solar systems. Our vessels counter theirs. We’re lucky that our technology is better than the League’s. Otherwise, they’d have already conquered us. This enemy brings new tactics to the fight. One of them is hiding out in the vastness of the void.”

  “That tracks,” Whatley said. “The reason we have escort carriers for convoy escort is the Saurians never really bothered attacking civilian shipping. They considered it to be dishonorable.”

  Tehrani snorted. “The League has no honor. Attacking our capital by surprise. From what I’ve read and heard from veterans about the Saurians, I could respect them in combat. The League—never.” She stared at the spy once more. “What do you want us to do?”

  “I want you to help me capture a League facility intact so that we can mine its databases for actionable intelligence.”

  Silence filled the conference room.

  Tehrani was taken aback and, for once, rendered speechless for several seconds. “I’m not sure I heard you right.”

  Grant flashed what appeared to be his trademark grin. “I’ve inventoried your available force assets, Colonel. I’m assured you have the tools at your disposal to accomplish my objective.”

  Something about the man’s self-assured tone, as he so dispassionately discussed the soldiers under Tehrani’s command and what seemed like a long-shot plan, rubbed her the wrong way. I get blowing this installation of theirs to hell, but capture it? With just the Greengold? She forced the pique down. “Okay, Agent Grant. Lay it out.”

  Grant leaned back in his chair. “You have a larger than normal force of Marines aboard, yes?”

  Tehrani nodded. “Yes. I requested additional assets in case we had issues with boarders on the civilian freighters.”

  “Which means you’re more than prepared for VBSS actions.”

  She tossed his words around in her mind. “In what way would visit, board, search, and seizure actions be useful, Agent?”

  “I thought you’d never ask. The Greengold picked up a critical piece of the puzzle. With the captured fighter, we have the element of surprise. We load it into the shuttle hangar of a stealth raider that coincidentally happens to be taking on a load of Starbolt missiles as we speak, jump that vessel into the area of the enemy… and get the League craft close enough that it can deploy an EMP weapon.” Grant spread his hands out on the table. “That’ll neutralize any onboard self-destruct and defensive weaponry. The Zvika Greengold jumps in, deals with any remaining ships or small craft, and deploys the Marines, and we go home with intelligence and prisoners of war.”

  “That’s insane!” Wright thundered. “Ops like this require months of planning, tier-one operators, and a lot more force than the Greengold.”

  Wright’s complaint was on point. But this is all-out war—a war for survival that we’ve taken horrendous losses in already. Though that didn’t mean Tehrani wasn’t afraid of losing her ship and crew in a futile effort. “I have serious misgivings about what you propose, Agent.” She set her jaw and turned to Whatley. “Your opinion, CAG?”

  “We’re not going to win this war with half measures and without taking extreme risks. I say we do it, and I’ll volunteer to fly the League fighter.” Whatley’s expression hardened. “If you’ve given us bad intel, I’ll personally come back from the afterlife and haunt you until the day you die, Grant,” he finished, staring at the spy. “Are we clear?”

  The one-hundred-watt smile never faded. “Completely.” Grant turned back to Tehrani. “While I don’t need your agreement, Colonel, I would much rather we do this action as partners, with the Zvika Greengold’s senior officers buying into the plan.”

  Bile rose in Tehrani’s throat. How the operative assumed her ship was his to do with as he pleased offended her to the core. She clenched her jaw. “I obey lawful orders from my chain of command.”

  Grant pulled a tablet out of his jacket and passed it over to her. “You’ll see those are counter-signed by all the proper authorities.”

  Tehrani examined the orders. As Grant had indicated, they ordered her to attack the League staging depot and capture it if at all possible. “This gives me broad latitude once the battle is joined, Agent.” She smirked. “Let’s get something straight. If I think the operation is going south at any time, I’ll destroy the depot rather than waste the lives of my pilots, Marines, and soldiers. Do you understand?”

  “Of course, Colonel.” Again, Grant flashed the creepy smile.

  This guy gives me the shivers. Tehrani looked for any hint of deception in his face. “What CDF forces will be available besides the stealth raider and the Greengold?”

  “None. The rest of your battlegroup will continue with several ships from the station’s defense fleet to the next series of jumps. This entire operation hinges on the League not knowing we’re coming. If command were to bring in a larger force, I believe it would blow our chance at a major intelligence coup.” Grant steepled his fingers. “Look, I get it. I’m a dirty civilian telling the military what to do. You don’t trust spooks. I probably wouldn’t, either, if I were in your shoes. But I want the same thing you do—the Terran Coalition winning this war. We’re not going to win by brute force. It’s going to take guile and bold strokes. Help me pull this off.”

  Even though t
he warning bell that Grant couldn’t be trusted was still ringing, his words seemed sincere, which reassured Tehrani enough to proceed. “Okay. You’ve got yourself a carrier.” She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t make me regret this, Agent.”

  “I won’t, Colonel. Thank you all, and Godspeed.” He stood. “I’ll see myself out.”

  The moment the hatch closed, Wright brought his hand down on the table. “Please, tell me we’re not considering this bullshit.”

  “Major, orders are orders,” Tehrani replied.

  “Skipper, that guy isn’t the one putting his rear end on the line. Come on. What happens if we jump in there and find twenty Leaguer capital ships waiting for us?”

  “Then we either jump out immediately or take as many of the bastards out with us as we can,” Whatley stated in his raspy tone. “This is going to be a risky op. But if we can pull it off, it’ll pay off in spades.”

  Wright looked between the two of them. “Okay. I’m outnumbered.” He grinned. “I’m going to reserve the right to tell you ‘I told you so’ when this goes to hell in a handbasket.”

  “I’ll deserve it if it does,” Tehrani replied. She turned toward Whatley. “Brief your pilots. But, Major, I want volunteers. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Don’t worry. This ship’s full of heroes.” Whatley grumbled good-naturedly, “To the point that it’s annoying.”

  All three of them laughed.

  “You’ve got that right,” Wright said while shaking his head. “Your orders, ma’am?”

  “Get us ready to fight.” Tehrani stood. “I’m going to head down to noon prayers. Let’s meet back here in three hours to discuss status.”