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

jumps they’d taken while scouting for fuel. The last thing I need now is to start vomiting in my flight suit. He briefly thought of a particular combat ration, nicknamed the vomelet. Though it was supposed to be an omelet, it tasted nothing like the famous egg dish in practice. Most who ingested the vomelet experienced it coming out explosively a few minutes later. Setting the memories out of his mind, Justin opened his eyes to see his Ghost had successfully emerged from its tunnel through the void of space.

The sensors came back online and confirmed he was within ten million kilometers of Pluto with no sign of enemy combat craft. So far, so good. Justin tried not to think ahead or jinx the mission. No victory laps or cheers until we get home. He cued his commlink to the squadron command channel. “This is Alpha One. No hostile contacts. Jump when ready. We’re on the clock.”

Moments later, thirty-one more Ghosts appeared on his HUD, tightly clustered around Justin’s craft. The execution was textbook perfect. They quickly grouped into elements and squadrons, with the Red Tails congregating around his fighter. The HUD showed all friendlies reporting readiness, full stores, and more-than-adequate fuel reserves.

“Alpha One to all fighters. Good job. Execute thirty-minute cooldown of Lawrence drives.”

Feldstein’s voice filled his commlink on a private channel. “Are you okay?”

“Dvora, we’re in the middle of a combat sortie. We don’t have time for this.” Justin’s laser focus on the mission prevailed over everything else.

“You haven’t been yourself lately,” she replied. “I want you coming home alive.”

While touching, her concern for his mental state or personal feelings wasn’t a luxury Justin could afford. “Look, I appreciate it. I promise you, the same way I promise my family every time I talk to them, I’ll do everything in my power to get back to the Greengold in one piece.”

“Okay.” She finally seemed to let go. “You’d better reiterate the target packages to everyone. They’re beyond jittery.”

“Thanks for the heads-up.” Justin flipped the channel to squadron command. “Okay, ladies and gentlemen. We’re here, and we’re spoiling for a fight, but it’s gotta go down the right way. Clear?”

“Point me toward the nearest Leaguers, Captain,” Green replied tightly. “I’ve come a long way for this dance, and it’s not nice to leave a lady waiting.”

Martin and Justin laughed.

“Aye, what she said, mate,” Martin said. “I’m ready to blast some of these buggers into hell.”

The reference to hell caught Justin by surprise. Martin was like him, somewhere between agnostic and atheist, and didn’t seem to have much in the way of faith. Turn of phrase, maybe.

“Lieutenant Martin, I’m tagging the shipyard we pinpointed at Jupiter’s L3 point, and for the Black Hogs, the Astute has locked down a freighter convoy with industrial parts as its primary cargo heading away from Uranus. Legitimate military targets, all.”

“I’m really hoping to hit some League military hardware,” Green interjected. “Anyone can shoot up civvie freighters, but only the best tangle with warships and survive.”

Everyone was on edge, and Green’s words highlighted the spirit of—sometimes false—bravado—that pilots engaged in. We’ve all got a different coping mechanism.

“Careful what you wish for, Lieutenant.” He grinned. “I want us all to hold here until a complete cooldown cycle has finished for the Lawrence drives. If you jump into a hostile ambush or, worse, get unlucky, you can still execute a double jump if we’re completely green.”

“Acknowledged, sir,” Martin replied. “So, what’s the plan for the next thirty minutes, then?

“Ponder the meaning of life. Listen to a holovid recording,” Green said with a chuckle. “Or in my case, offer up a prayer before we rush into the maw of death.”

“Didn’t figure you for the religious type, Lieutenant.” Justin had thought she was too hard-nosed for church.

“Most don’t. I’m private about it, sir. Then again, it’s difficult to know what’s coming and not offer a prayer up to something. If that makes sense.”

Justin thought back to when he’d ejected from his Saber during their first convoy duty action. Even I managed to say a prayer. So he understood where she was coming from. “Completely, Green. Okay. I’m going to coach up my squadron. I suggest you both do the same, and we’ll check in before our respective jumps. Spencer out.”

Hour after hour passed in the cramped weapons bay. Nishimura’s legs cramped several times, and he relaxed them by bending his foot in the direction the cramp seemed to be coming from. A drill instructor had taught him the trick during advanced zero-G power-armor training during officer candidates’ school. But worse than the physical pain was mental pressure. Nishimura thought of himself as a pretty tough customer, but being locked under the fighter was possibly the worst situation he’d experienced so far.

“You still with me, Marines?” Whatley asked.

Nishimura grinned despite it all. “It’ll take more than a rough ride in space to get rid of us, CAG.”

“Well, file this one under proof there is a God. League freighter popped out at the Lawrence limit five minutes ago. We’ve got an excellent intercept vector and will be coming alongside in a few minutes. No sign they’ve seen us. Get your boys ready.”

“Understood, Major.”

The commlink clicked off, leaving Nishimura to silence. He cued the Marine squad-leader channel. “Okay, everyone, it’s showtime. Limber up as best you can.”

One of the other Marines snorted. “Major, muscles I didn’t know I had have gone to sleep on me. I’ll be lucky to walk straight, much less kick doors and shoot people.”

“You’re fifteen years younger than I am… and if I can do it, so can you,” Nishimura replied in a snarky tone. “Otherwise, live with the shame of an officer outperforming you.”

Peals of laughter swept through them in a release of tension, needed after so many hours spent in the dark silence.

“It’s on, sir,” the younger Marine said.

“That’s the spirit, gentlemen.” Nishimura toggled on the sensor link in his helmet and superimposed a view of space around them on the integrated HUD. Whatley