Bandits Engaged (Battlegroup Z Book 4) Page 3

  From a flag officer who rarely showed emotion, his words moved Tehrani with their earnestness. She set her jaw. “We’ll dispatch them, sir. Though I must ask. How do you know it's not the League? Attacking neutral shipping to deny us raw materials would make sense. They’ve already announced that any ship traversing our border is fair game.”

  “Unrestricted space warfare. Yes, you are most astute, Colonel.” Yukimura shrugged. “I, too, thought what you suggest made sense, but the Coalition Intelligence Service has investigated the attacks, and there appears to be no League involvement. Sensor logs from surviving ships show an amalgamation of commonly available civilian vessels, up gunned and heavily armored. Most of the information is garbled—but what we can tell is the ships carrying out the attacks aren’t Leaguers.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “I see. Do we have any intelligence on where they’re based out of?”

  “Not as of yet. The pattern CIS noticed, however, is they’re picking off cargos of rare earth minerals.”

  Tehrani licked her lips. “Easy to sell off to the highest bidder on the black market.” By Allah, the criminal underworld disgusts me. We’re in a fight for survival, and they’re killing innocent spacers to make a few credits.

  “Exactly. Battlegroup Z will patrol the border, and I’ll make sure you have a complete list of all freighters carrying the targeted cargos. Be ready to swoop in and save the day. Have your Marines ready to board disabled craft. I want you to root out the base of operations these vermin are using, destroy it, and shut down their pirating for good.”

  “Yes, sir. We’ll get the job done.” Then we can go back to fighting the war, where we belong.

  “By the time you get back to resupply, we’ll have the Greengold’s Presidential Unit Citation ready. Oh, and before you leave, inform your master chief that another battle star has been authorized. Brings you up to what? Five?”

  “Who’s counting, sir. I’m more interested in transmitting the broom.”

  “Me, too, Colonel.” Yukimura sucked in a breath. “Good luck out there. Good hunting, and Godspeed.”

  “Godspeed to you, too, sir.”

  The screen blinked off, leaving Tehrani alone once more. Well, a mission is a mission. Even if it wasn’t more battling against the Leaguers, they were getting back into the fight—not a moment too soon for her tastes.

  After kicking off his combat boots and getting a glass of water, Justin curled up on the couch in his stateroom. While providing a break from combat, time off the front lines greatly enhanced the amount of paperwork he had to do. His recent promotion to XO of the Greengold’s flight wing only added to the overhead. If people had any idea how much other work pilots do, they’d probably never sign up for the job. He chuckled and glanced at the clock for what seemed like the hundredth time in the last few minutes. It read 2000 CMT.

  Eagerly, he reached for his tablet and quickly pulled up the vidlink application. Michelle’s profile was the first one listed, and he tapped the button to engage video communications. It flashed Connecting for a moment.

  Michelle’s smiling face filled the screen. “There you are! Were you counting the seconds?”

  “Guilty as charged. I live for our calls, you know.”

  “I know, baby. I miss you so much.”

  He touched the screen. “I miss you too. Where’s Maggie?”

  “Asleep. She’s been sick for a couple of days. There’s a cold going around.”

  Justin quirked his nose. “I’m sure her pediatrician could fix that with a shot.”

  “It’s good for little ones to develop an immune system capable of fighting off viruses.” Michelle stuck her tongue out. “Please tell me you didn’t call across billions of kilometers to rehash that debate.”

  Long ago, Justin had learned to accept his wife’s oddities when it came to distrust of technology. She wasn’t a Luddite but sometimes came close. “No, dear. I’ll save that for the next time I see you in the flesh.”

  She giggled. “We’ll see about that. I’ve been thinking about taking a passenger liner to visit you on Canaan.”

  “Well…” He bit his lip. “I know we don’t have the money.”

  “Some of the passenger transport companies are offering discounts to families of service members,” Michelle replied. She furrowed her brow. “You don’t want me to visit?”

  Justin opened his mouth and sucked in a breath. “Of course I do. I just… Well, I worry about one of those transports getting jumped by the Leaguers.” He frowned. “Sorry, I’m still having some bad nightmares.”

  “Oh, baby.” She touched the camera. “I wish I could comfort you somehow.”

  “Hey, knowing you and Maggie are safe is all the comfort I need.” Justin took great pains never to show his wife how hard the war was. When he spoke with her, if at all possible, everything was peachy.

  “You forget I know you well. Beneath the tough exterior is a nice, sensitive guy.” Michelle grinned again. “I’d wanted to save this and do it in person, but I suppose time is running out.”

  For a split second, Justin’s mind went to the worst possible place, thinking that perhaps his wife was about to leave him. What else would she want to do in person?

  “I’m pregnant.”

  Justin’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. “Whaaat? But we… It was just one night.”

  “Yeah, and remember your birds and the bees?”

  He laughed loudly. “You're going on six months along.”

  “Not very observant, are you? I’m always sitting down for a reason.”

  After reflecting for a moment, Justin realized he’d noticed she was putting on weight but hadn’t said anything because even he was smart enough to know the last thing a man should say to his wife was comment on her size—especially with a war on. Wow. I’m an idiot. “I’m sorry I’m not there,” he finally began. “I wasn’t there as much as I should’ve been for Maggie, and I vowed the next time—”

  “Baby, it’s okay. I’m thankful we’re having another child and that I’m married to a wonderful man.”

  He beamed. “I can’t tell you how happy I am. Do you know the gender yet?”

  “We’re having a son.”

  Tears streamed down his face. While Justin wasn’t as gung-ho on having six kids as his wife—her dream was to have a huge family—he’d always wanted a son. “Maybe I should go to Colonel Tehrani and put in for leave or a deferment. I can’t leave you to deal with all this.”

  “No, Justin. No.” Michelle bit her lip. “As much as I’d love to have you at home and as hard as it is to know you’re going into harm’s way, I know you’re where God wants you. I’m not going to be the military wife nagging her husband about combat. This is your job. You’re good at it, and even though I hate having to share you, what the Greengold did two months ago gave everyone in the Terran Coalition hope.”

  Usually, when she invoked God or a connection to a higher power, Justin bristled. Not tonight. He glanced at the printed Bible sitting on his coffee table. Telling Michelle about my trips to the chapel will have to wait until I sort out what exactly I believe. “You’re sure?”

  “Beyond sure.”

  “I don’t want to miss the birth of another child with you, baby.” When Michelle was born, Justin had been assigned to flight school and couldn’t get leave. He’d missed almost all of it, only arriving a couple of hours after she’d delivered.

  “Justin, you have to stay in the fight. The Terran Coalition's needs outweigh my wanting my husband to be in my baby-bump pictures or even hold my hand in the hospital. Okay?”

  Justin wasn’t used to seeing this side of his wife. Not that she wasn’t patriotic, but Michelle hadn’t been a huge fan of the CDF before the outbreak of the war with the League of Sol. “Okay. Maybe the next time the ship has a layup, we can figure out your coming here for a bit. O-3 salary with hazard pay is almost as good as what the tech company paid me to write software.”

  “Deal,” Michelle replied. “The
n you can help me change diapers, tuck children in, and prepare bottles.”

  Changing his son’s diaper or drawing a bath seemed a galaxy away. Justin could think of nothing that he’d rather do more. Yet in a few days, I’m going to put these feelings away, get myself into battle mode, and kill the enemy. The dichotomy was striking and not lost on him. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Yeah. We’re fine. I promise. You keep doing what you do out there.”

  “Almost out of comm credits again.” Justin frowned. “I’ll be glad when they build some more relays or something.”

  “Next week, same time?”

  Justin nodded. “Same time, same vidlink channel.”

  “I love you.”

  “I love you too.” Justin touched the camera with his finger as the screen blinked off.

  He set the tablet down and lay back on the couch. I should’ve told her what happened with Feldstein. He’d gone back and forth on the topic for two months. Nothing happened. But it almost did. Things had mostly returned to normal, except Justin was careful to avoid being alone with her while ensuring his outward behavior didn’t change. He walked the tightrope daily. With a glance toward his bed, he got up and stripped off his clothes. A smile spread across Justin’s face as he considered the news Michelle had delivered. We’re having a son. That night, for the first time in months, he had no nightmares.

  Unity Station

  Deep Space—between the Sagittarius and Orion Arms

  13 August 2434

  A burst of red attracted the attention of Admiral Chang Yuen. The overall fleet commander for the League of Sol’s invasion of the Terran Coalition, he stared out into the void from the observation deck of their main logistical hub, Unity Station. The flashes of color were the telltale signature of League FTL wormhole generators. More ships for the struggle. They were never enough. For every battlegroup in reinforcements he received, the Terran Coalition and its vaunted Coalition Defense Force destroyed an existing one. Even holding on to Eire was proving to be more difficult than he’d imagined.

  “That makes thirty more vessels this week, comrade Admiral,” Yegor Voronin observed. He was the commander of Unity Station and also an admiral in the League Navy. “We’re up eight total.”

  “If the fools back home would send half of our Orion Arm–based assets, this war would be over in three months,” Yuen fumed.

  Voronin gave him a sidelong glance. “Have you not considered whether perhaps the Social and Public Safety Committee is drawing out the conflict?”

  While the idea had long ago crossed Yuen’s mind, it wasn’t the sort of thing one said aloud. Still, Voronin had the areas of the station they used scanned on a daily basis for listening devices and trackers. The only people more paranoid than the Internal Security Division were the people they spied on—namely everyone else. “It has been some time since we had a great patriotic war.”

  “The last of the battleship refits will be completed this week.”

  Yuen turned his head. “Good. I’ll send them to reinforce our position at Eire and guard supply convoys.”

  Whatever their beliefs, the individualists in the Terran Coalition made good soldiers. After nearly a year of combat, many a League commander had paid the ultimate price for overconfidence. Cracks were starting to show in morale as the rank and file realized the quick victory promised by the political commissars wasn’t going to happen.

  “I’ve heard whispers of a near mutiny on the LX Panfilov,” Voronin remarked casually.

  “Yes.” Yuen barely suppressed an eruption of white-hot anger. The vessel’s crew had had enough of poor leadership from both its commanding officer and political commissar, and a young lieutenant tried to take command. The captain barely stopped the insurrection by shooting his underling dead on the bridge.

  “We must take care such things do not spread.” Voronin tilted his head. “Many of the rank-and-file crewmen are getting the idea that we’re not fighting to win. The months without major fleet actions or invasions give those ideas merit.”

  Yuen shook his head in disgust. “Are you suggesting I should stage an assault on a CDF asset I know will fail, costing ships and lives, to help morale?”

  “Perhaps that is a course of action, comrade. I am only suggesting that you need to do something.” Voronin wrinkled his nose. “I meant to ask… did you see the requisition orders for spare parts, fighter equipment, food, and weapons?”

  “To where?” Yuen narrowed his eyes. “Individual supply requests are a bit below my pay grade.”

  A cloud passed over Voronin’s eyes. “I’m not sure to where. Only that one of my supply officers flagged the request, and it eventually made it to me. The equipment was routed to a freighter headed for Lusitania.”

  “A neutral planet controlled by humans near the Terran Coalition border, yes?”

  Voronin nodded. “Correct. The entire matter is highly irregular. When I started investigating where it was going, I received a call from a political officer who identified himself as working for External Security Services.”

  Few things in the universe could make Yuen’s blood run cold. ESS was one of them. “And?”

  “I was told to drop my inquiries or be branded as an individualist.”

  “Then I strongly suggest you comply, comrade.” Yuen raised an eyebrow. “We both know the penalty for such a charge.” In League parlance, calling someone an individualist was among the worst things a human could say about another. Just the mere hint of it was enough to derail the career of even the most senior officer. If it got to a courtroom, the trial almost always resulted in conviction and reeducation. Or death—individualism carried the risk of capital punishment.

  “But we need every bit of our supplies to fight the Terrans. Why would anyone in the League of Sol divert war materiel—”

  Yuen held up his hand. “Yegor, drop it now. Someone somewhere thinks they know better than the navy, and if it involves External Security, I want nothing to do with it. Neither should you. Run away as fast as you can, and tell everyone in your chain of command to forget they ever saw the requisition.”

  For a moment, Voronin appeared as if he would argue, but then his head dropped ever so slightly. “Da, comrade.”

  As they continued their discussion of fleet readiness and war strategy, Yuen wondered what the spies were up to with their cloak-and-dagger antics. Perhaps a black market was forming, or they were arming revolutionaries in the neutral systems to encourage resistance to the capitalists. Whatever it is, I’d better push it out of my mind and never let the urge to dig in further win out. Or I’ll be tilling crops by hand for food, just like Seville.

  3

  Preparations to get underway were ongoing throughout the Zvika Greengold. For the embarked air wing, those preparations manifested as methodically reviewing the maintenance logs of every fighter and bomber parked on the hangar deck. Along with such lovely tasks were ensuring enough consumable stores were stocked, spare parts were stowed, and the most challenging task of all: making sure the rookie pilots, or “nuggets,” as they were called, were settled in.

  Justin detested the task, not because getting new pilots was a bad thing but because each one represented a lost friend.

  That’s not true anymore. He’d stopped getting close to the newbies because they weren’t as likely to last. Justin picked up his mug and took a sip of coffee. He’d taken over a few chairs in the Red Tails ready room, since his office was so small. Several tablets were strewn about.

  “Hey.” Feldstein interrupted the paperwork session.

  Justin jerked his head up to see her standing a few chairs away. The hatch leading to the hangar was open. “Hey yourself,” he answered uneasily.

  “I get the distinct impression you’ve been avoiding me,” she replied, arms crossed. “We’re going back into combat soon. It’s got to end.”

  Justin had been girding himself for the conversation while dreading it in the same manner one dreaded a root canal. He pursed
his lips. “I thought some time apart would help heal things.”

  Feldstein tilted her head. “Perhaps, though I’ll admit not seeing you except in groups of other people made me feel like I’d lost my best friend.”

  He could feel the pain and hurt in her voice anew. “I’m sorry. Look, I—”

  “Justin, it’s okay,” Feldstein interjected. “I’m okay now. It just took some getting used to.” She sucked in a breath. “Robert put in for compassionate liberty to be taken the next time I get some. We’re going to try to meet up and see if we can salvage something of our relationship.”

  “That’s good.” I didn’t realize they were that far on the rocks. Then again, what almost happened wouldn’t have if… If what? I was—am—happy with Michelle, and I almost did something horrible.

  “How are you doing?”

  “Oh, staying busy.” Justin flashed a grin. “Michelle’s expecting. A boy.”

  For a moment, Feldstein was silent. She smiled. “Yours?”

  Justin sputtered then burst out laughing. “Very funny.”

  “I try.”

  “She’s due in a few months.”

  Feldstein looked away, staring into the back of the room. “I’m glad for you two.” She bit her lip. “I’ll probably be too messed up by the end of this to be a mother anyway.”

  “Dvora, what’s wrong?”

  “It’s been a year, Justin.” Her eyes locked with his, though she stood two meters away. “We’ve lost almost forty pilots in that year. It’s a miracle the butcher’s bill hasn’t included you or me, Adeoye, or Mateus. Sooner or later, our names will be up.”

  “We don’t know that. The war could end tomorrow, if the League gets tired of its losses and pulls out. Or we’ll reach the end of our tours of duty and rotate to a training command. There’s no dishonor in that.”

  Tears shone in Feldstein’s eyes, and she began to weep bitterly, sobs wrenching through her body.