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

Captain Spencer, Red Tails, and Lieutenant Green, Black Hogs. We’ll get Lieutenant Martin over in a few,” Whatley interjected.

“Thank you, Major.” Nolan took a step forward and extended his hand toward Justin. “A pleasure to meet you, son.”

“Likewise, sir.” Justin shook the outstretched hand warmly.

“Quite a reputation you’ve built in the last few months,” Nolan replied. “I had a look at the service jackets of each member of the Zvika Greengold’s senior staff before authorizing this mission. General Saurez tells me you’ll all need every ounce of skill and luck possible to pull this off. So we’re counting on you.”

“No one on this ship will let you down, sir,” Justin said with a glance at Green. “All our squadrons are ready to fight.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Nolan extended his arm to Green. “Lieutenant, a pleasure to meet you as well. From after-action reports, I understand your refitted Boar fighters have performed superbly.” He flashed a one-hundred-watt smile.

Green relaxed from attention to shake hands. “Thank you, sir. I, too, look forward to blowing apart as much League hardware at Earth as possible.”

One of the protective-detail agents leaned in and whispered into Nolan’s ear while gesturing toward the shuttle.

“I’m sorry, folks. They need to get me back to Terran Coalition One.” Nolan brought his hand up in salute. “We’ll be throwing you a parade on Canaan when the Zvika Greengold returns. Again, good luck and Godspeed.” He turned and walked away, flanked on all sides by agents in business suits.

With mixed feelings, Justin watched the entourage walk down the red carpet as the senior officers cleared out of the way. The president seemed honest enough, but Justin had trouble believing anyone who hadn’t served knew what it was like on the sharp tip of the spear. I have to give him credit for seemingly trying to understand us, though.

Feldstein’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. “What was he like?” she asked excitedly, bordering on giddy.

“Uh—” Justin turned to see her, Mateus, and Adeoye standing behind him.

“That’s it?” Feldstein stared. “You shook the hand of the most powerful human being in the galaxy, our commander in chief, and ‘Uh’ is the best you can do?”

“Well, he puts his pants on the same way I do. One leg at a time.” Justin quirked his nose. “I thought you said you didn’t even vote for him, so why the fuss?”

Feldstein tried to keep an expression of annoyance on her face, but it dissolved into a grin followed by laughter. “Okay. We’re having a card game tonight to discuss this planned attack. Mateus, get the good stuff too.”

“Done,” Justin replied.

“Now that’s done,” Whatley interjected, appearing at their sides again. “You can get back to simulator training. I want four hours a day.” He crossed his arms. “And one of these days, you’d better invite me to this mythical card game down in Lieutenant Mateus’s quarters I keep hearing about.”

“Yes, sir,” Mateus said. “I’ll be happy to clean you out any day, sir.”

Whatley rolled his eyes good-naturedly and stalked off while the rest of them shared a laugh.

As they walked together, Justin felt like Alpha element could conquer the universe. If we can successfully strike Earth, anything’s possible.

7

CSV Zvika Greengold

Deep Space

24 April 2434

Days turned into weeks, and weeks became a month on the Zvika Greengold. Boredom set in amongst the crew, especially with the Marines. While the pilots had their simulators, and the soldiers manning the ship were kept busy with watch standing and their various onboard jobs, the Marines found other ways to deal with their newfound time.

On three separate occasions, Major Kosuke Nishimura was called to a private meeting with Colonel Tehrani. The prank wars instigated by the Marines—despite direct orders to the contrary—had grown to the point that the senior officers couldn’t ignore them. It might’ve had something to do with the chief’s mess ketchup bottles being replaced with ghost pepper sauce. Suppressing a laugh from the memory, Nishimura stared at the cargo bay, which had been set up with an extensive “kill house” among other tactical training tools. It was his solution to the problem after the colonel had threatened to start confining anyone who got out of line to quarters.

“Team one is about to enter, sir,” Master Gunnery Sergeant Malcolm O’Conner said from Nishimura’s side. A twenty-five-year veteran of the Terran Coalition Marine Corps, O’Conner hailed from Eire, as denoted by the Irish flag on his shoulder. A unique religious patch with a pair of dice sat under it. “How did you get this signed off on, by the way, sir?”

Nishimura grinned and stared at the bank of monitors. Holocameras captured practically every angle within the training structure , while integrated helmet optics showed them what the assault force saw in real-time. “Because the brig isn’t big enough for five hundred Marines.”

“Touché, sir.” O’Conner snickered. “Between us, I was quite amused that the engineering crew had to build this for us.”

“It was Colonel Tehrani’s way of forcing everyone to make up.” Nishimura crossed his arms. “You know, I’d much prefer we had a tier-one team attached to us.” The Terran Coalition’s Space Special Warfare unit was regarded as the best special operators of any alien or human government. Known as the Space Walkers, they could accomplish seemingly impossible tasks and were the greatest warriors humanity had to offer.

“Lots of things we ought to have, sir. The way this entire mission is going down makes me think we’re expendable.”

“Ultimately, everyone is expendable,” Nishimura replied. It wasn’t meant as a philosophical observation, only a statement of fact. Almost every individual in the CDF or TCMC was replaceable, and on the battlefield, people died.

“I suppose.” O’Conner sighed. “Though I will admit I am not interested in being expendable.”

“None of us are.” Nishimura glanced at the monitors showing the inside of the kill house, which was designed to mimic a starship’s interior. Perfect training for a Visit, Board, Search, and Seizure team. “You changed up the OPFOR locations for this pass, right?”

O’Conner