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

“I can take care of myself,” Nishimura replied. “Now, move out. No dusting off without me.”

“Yes, sir.” MacIntosh turned on his heel and left.

Flores and Nishimura were left alone except for the soft hum of electronics. “Answer my question,” he said, staring at her intently.

“They won’t find out.” Flores set her jaw. “Because you’re going to leave enough bruises on me to make my story plausible. The cruel capitalists tortured me, but I gave them nothing except my handprint. My family and those like us have gotten very good at hiding and deceiving the commissars, Major.”

Nishimura blanched in horror. Hit a woman? It went against everything he believed. “Where I come from, men don’t hit women unless they’re an enemy combatant. I can’t do that.”

“If you don’t, I’ll try to injure myself, but I doubt it’ll be convincing.”

He flexed his fist a few times, trying to picture what karate moves he could employ that would leave marks but not harm internal organs, but found it difficult even to consider. If I don’t, her blood is on my hands. “Okay.” Nishimura unsealed and pulled off the armored gauntlet on his right hand.

Flores swallowed and braced herself. “I assure you I’ve had worse in my life.”

“Ready?” I really don’t want to do this.

She nodded. “Major, I’ve been through childbirth three times. Trust me. I’ll get through it.”

Well, when you put it like that. Nishimura’s hand went rigid, and he assumed a ready stance. A practitioner of the wadō-ryū martial art, he was a master at close-quarters combat. He lashed out with his right hand once, twice, then three times, striking her hip and lower rib cage.

Flores cried out and nearly crumpled to the floor. She groaned. “Okay.” After steadying herself, she motioned him forward. “Face too. It has to look good.”

That was almost a bridge too far for Nishimura. The urge to vomit briefly overcame him before he forced his hand back into the ready stance. He planted a single strike into the right side of her face, aimed at the eye—hoping to do enough for a shiner without breaking bone.

“Aieee!” Flores screamed and stumbled backward. She slid into a chair and gingerly felt her face. “You pack some power, Major.”

“Third-degree black belt.” Nishimura stared at her. The right eye was already showing a bruise. “Please tell me you can still see.”

“I can. Hurts to keep it open, though.” She smiled weakly. “I’ll be fine. I promise. Now, I think you need to go.”

“Jump the ship back to the system you came from and tell them you escaped your bonds.” He dropped a pair of flexicuffs on the deck. “Rip those up and sell it.”

Flores stood and put her hands on his. “Would you allow me to pray with you?”

Stunned, Nishimura stared at her wide-eyed. He’d never before encountered someone who was such a seeming font of faith. To discover such a person in the heart of the League of Sol continued to shake him. “I, uh… sure.” He frowned. “I don’t, well… what I mean to say is I don’t do a lot of praying. The truth is I’m a pretty crappy Christian.”

“Would you like me to lead us?”

“Yeah, that’d be nice.” He squeezed her hands and bowed his head.

“O, God, Heavenly Father, give us the courage to change what must be altered, the serenity to accept what cannot be helped, and the insight to know one from the other, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.” Her hands tightened on his. “And, Father, protect your servant Kosuke Nishimura as he walks through the dark places he must go. Stand with him and help him on his path. Amen.”

Tears came to Nishimura’s eyes. “Thank you. May God walk with you as well. Godspeed, Candace.” He let go of her hands and turned to go then made it as far as the door to the passageway beyond before turning back. “I give you my word. I’ll make sure my superiors know what happened here. Someday, the Terran Coalition will come back to Earth and rescue the oppressed. I hope to be alive and leading the charge. If I am, I’ll find you.”

“I look forward to that day, Major.”

He nodded once and walked out. A hard man, Nishimura wasn’t prone to emotion or tears. But the effect Flores had on him continued as he walked the two hundred meters back to the shuttle. It had shaken loose something within him, and he determined once the battle was over to ponder his beliefs and how he lived them.

18

Time crept by as the CDF fighters, virtually invisible to both the naked eye and the most advanced scanning systems known to man, rocketed toward the League force standing between them and escape. Justin kept the fighters in a tight spherical formation, seeking to deny the enemy as much attack surface as possible. After he’d spent eight hours in the cockpit, everything ached. I’d do anything to get out and stretch for a minute. He snickered at the thought.

“We’re going to have to decide on a final intercept point, sir,” Feldstein said. Her voice crackled through the commlink. “Less than fifteen minutes to contact.”

Justin studied the sensor readout on his HUD for a bit before replying privately to her. “See the small formation about five degrees off our current course?”

“Yeah. A frigate and two smaller ships. Corvettes, maybe?”

“Probably the same trade cutters we saw performing inspections on the way in. I doubt they’re serious warships. That’s where we punch through.”

“You’re the boss, sir.”

“As the CAG would say, don’t forget it.” Justin cued his commlink to the squadron-commander channel. “Martin, Green, we’re going in on the following coordinates.” He tagged the course on his HUD and sent it out over the taclink. “Any objections?”

“As long as we get to go home and blast some of these commie buggers on the way out, I couldn’t care less, sir,” Martin replied cheerfully.

“No objections here, sir,” Green said. “Who’s taking point?”

“My thoughts are we put the bomber pilots up front, while