Sol Strike (Battlegroup Z Book 3) by Daniel Gibbs (book recommendations for young adults TXT) 📕

Sol Strike

Battlegroup Z Book Three

Daniel Gibbs

Contents

CSV Zvika Greengold Blueprints

SF-86 Sabre Blueprints

Starchart - Sagittarius/Orion Arms

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Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Epilogue

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Sol Strike by Daniel Gibbs

Copyright © 2020-2021 by Daniel Gibbs

Visit Daniel Gibb’s website at

www.danielgibbsauthor.net

Cover by Jeff Brown Graphics—www.jeffbrowngraphics.com

Additional Illustrations by Joel Steudler—www.joelsteudler.com

This book is a work of fiction, the characters, incidents and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. For permissions please contact [email protected].

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FREE BOOK: Read the story of Levi Cohen and his heroic fight at the first battle of Canaan in Echoes of War: Stand Firm.

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Battlegroup Z

Book 1 - Weapons Free

Book 2 - Hostile Spike

Book 3 - Sol Strike

Book 4 - Bandits Engaged

Echoes of War

Book 1 - Fight the Good Fight

Book 2 - Strong and Courageous

Book 3 - So Fight I

Book 4 - Gates of Hell

Book 5 - Keep the Faith

Book 6 - Run the Gauntlet

Book 7 - Finish the Fight

Breach of Faith

(With Gary T. Stevens)

Book 1 - Breach of Peace

Book 2 - Breach of Faith

Book 3 - Breach of Duty

Book 4 - Breach of Trust

1

CSV Zvika Greengold

Canaan Orbit—High Loop Three

3 February 2434

Captain Justin Spencer’s alarm went off as usual at 0430 hours CMT, Coalition Mean Time, and like every other morning, he jumped out of bed. After he’d spent nearly six months on active duty, the routine was ingrained. Following an hour-long workout, he returned to his quarters, showered, and dressed in the uniform of the day, then he made his way to the pilots’ mess.

As he finished his hearty breakfast of bacon, eggs, corned beef hash, and coffee, his handcomm beeped. The screen showed an order to appear in the deck one conference room at 0630—in fifteen minutes. I can make it with time to spare if I go now.

Justin sprang from the table, dropped his tray and cup into the used-utensils receptacle, and quickly strode out of the mess.

The Zvika Greengold was a Thane-class escort carrier. Even though it only held thirty-six combat spacecraft in three squadrons, it still had large numbers of personnel. From the soldiers who ran the ship itself to the aviation crew that was nearly a thousand strong to Marines, medical support, and engineering, the vessel carried almost three thousand souls. It was a small city in space. Meanwhile, the larger Saratoga-class fleet carriers had six or seven thousand soldiers and supported over two hundred fighters and bombers each. Maybe I’ll get to one someday. Justin had plans beyond returning alive from whatever mission he was assigned to fly, and serving on a Saratoga-class carrier was still his goal.

He stepped off the gravlift to deck one and was greeted by a short passageway with only a few hatches off of it. One led to the bridge and had two Marines to each side, standing guard twenty-four hours a day. Justin’s destination was the conference room, situated on the corridor's right-hand side when one exited from the lift.

He pushed open the hatch to find Colonel Tehrani, the commanding officer of the Zvika Greengold, already seated at the head of the table. Justin immediately brought himself to attention. “Captain Justin Spencer reports as ordered, ma’am.”

“At ease, Spencer. Have a seat,” Tehrani replied, gesturing toward the many available chairs. No one else was present.

“Thank you, ma’am.” Justin sat and maintained a ramrod-straight posture.

“How’s your squadron holding up?”

Justin commanded the Red Tails squadron, named in honor of the first integrated fighter command hundreds of years ago on Earth. When the Coalition Defense Force had been formed, the unit was reactivated and filled with citizens of every nation-state, religion, and creed within the Terran Coalition.

“Good, ma’am. The loss of Higgens last week was a blow, but his replacement should be here tomorrow.”

Nearly constant loss had become the norm. The flight element he commanded, Alpha, had suffered several close calls but had yet to lose a pilot. Justin knew in his heart it was only a matter of time. Heck, it should’ve been me after I was shot down. He still didn’t quite understand how or why he’d survived.

Further chitchat was cut off by the arrival of Major Wright and Major Whatley—the XO and CAG of the Zvika Greengold. Both men hailed from American-controlled planets, as denoted by the American flags on their uniforms’ left shoulders. Tehrani, as far as Justin could tell, was from the Republic of Persia.

“Colonel,” Wright said as he sat. “Our guest will be here shortly.”

“Thank you, XO.”

Whatley took a seat next to Justin. “What’d I tell you about showing up early to get points with the skipper?”

While the remark seemed like a dig, Justin had long since learned to accept the CAG’s unique sense of humor—in all of its acerbic glory. “Well, I had to represent aviation, sir,” he shot back.

“Ha.” Whatley smirked and turned toward Tehrani. “Any hints to what this is about, ma’am?”

“Oh, I think it’s better if you hear it from our newly assigned officer.”

Whatley looked at Wright with a raised eyebrow. “I wasn’t aware of any—”

The hatch swung open, revealing a tall newcomer. The man wore a khaki CDF duty