Hostile Spike (Battlegroup Z Book 2) by Daniel Gibbs (best pdf ebook reader TXT) 📕

flash of anger abating. “Who are you, and what did you do with my husband?” As long as she’d known Ibrahim, he’d been a skeptic of religion. Arabia was a pretty conservative place—religiously speaking—so it wasn’t like he’d flashed it around to everyone they knew, but it was one of his core beliefs.

He spread his hands out in a shrug. “I’ve been praying for your safety.” Ibrahim paused, choking up. “You’re the love of my life, Banu. I’m not complete without you, and I can’t protect you where you are. So instead, I ask Allah to protect and guide you. If such a being exists. The way I’m looking at it, it can’t hurt to try.”

The way he made the statement, and the sheer honesty of it, made her love him all the more. “Thank you,” Tehrani replied softly. “I would point out to you, though, that I’m a military officer with nineteen years of experience.” She grinned.

“And I’m an economics professor.”

“Exactly.”

“Those facts do not change my desire to protect my wife.”

Tehrani touched her finger to the tablet’s screen. “And that, my dear husband, is one of the reasons I married you.”

He beamed. “Any word on some downtime? Shore leave? Maybe a planet-based duty station?”

“I’m hopeful we’ll rotate home in a month or two, if nothing else, for an extended combat refit.” How do I tell him that our life will consist of battle after battle for the foreseeable future?

Ibrahim shook his head. “Oh, dearest, I know what that means. Don’t get my hopes up.”

“I’m sorry.” The two little words didn’t seem enough.

“Nonsense. There’s nothing to be sorry for. I’m angry that some communist thugs decided to invade our little slice of space. I wish they’d just tried to debate me. As economics is my area of expertise, I could’ve explained to them why communism is a dead-end system.” He smiled. “Just… if you get a few days’ downtime, let me know? I’ll take a transport liner.”

“Ibrahim, we don’t have that kind of money,” Tehrani exclaimed.

“Again, don’t worry about it. I’ve got it covered.” He sighed. “The most annoying ‘You are out of commlink credits’ notice just appeared on my end. I suppose we’ll have to cut this short.”

“I love you,” Tehrani blurted out. She blushed. “And when we see each other again, I promise you I’ll make whatever trip you had to take worth your while.”

“Oh really?” Ibrahim winked. “I’ll hold you to that. I love you too. Take care of yourself.”

“I’ll try. Walk with Allah, husband.”

The screen went blank, leaving Tehrani alone in the quiet of her stateroom. She set the tablet down and put her legs back up on the couch then sipped her still-warm tea with a smile and thought of better days with her family. If God wills it, I will see them again.

Presidential Center

Lawrence City—Canaan

5 December 2433

The doors to the White House situation room swung open, and Jason Nolan entered behind his protective detail. Various military officers and civilians lined the conference table and the chairs abutting the wall behind it. Many, he recognized on a first-name basis, a side effect of more than two months of daily military briefings. As he strode in, everyone stood.

“As you were,” Nolan said, simultaneously taking his seat at the head of the table. He made eye contact with General Antonio Saurez, Commander, Space Fleet—the overall commander for all CDF spaceborne assets. “How’s it look today, General?”

For once, Saurez smiled. Over the last month, there hadn’t been many calls for a smile or happiness period, for that matter. “I’m happy to report that CDF intelligence analysts, working hand in hand with our civilian brethren at CIS, have decrypted a large data cache captured recently from a League deep-space outpost inside Terran Coalition space.”

“Did I hear you right? That you captured a League space installation erected inside our space?” Abdul Karimi interjected. He was Nolan’s chief of staff and long-time aide.

“That’s correct, sir.”

Nolan considered the implication of the statement for a few moments. His mind spun. How long has the League been planning this? It seemed the Terran Coalition was the subject of a multiyear, perhaps decades-long war effort designed to wipe them out. He let out a breath. “Okay. Continue.”

“Based on the intelligence recovered, we’ve destroyed half a dozen similar installations and are taking steps to up our scanning activity to find any others that might’ve been missed,” Saurez replied. “We’ve enlisted several scientific vessels to assist us. But, sir, the best news is that since we carried out the operation to remove the League stations, attacks on our civilian convoys are down by almost seventy percent.”

Nolan grinned. I don’t need to be a career military officer to understand those implications. “That, General, is the best news I’ve heard since we won the Battle of Canaan.” He turned somber again. “And what of the front?”

“We’re holding our own, sir. But as you well know, we’re playing defense.”

“Any progress on a plan to attack the League of Sol?” Nolan swept the room with his eyes and focused on Saurez. “You’ve had more than a month, General.”

“We do, sir.” Saurez leaned back and motioned to an officer on the back row. “Lieutenant MacIntosh has a proposal for you, Mr. President.”

The carpet rustled as MacIntosh pushed off his chair and stood next to the conference table. “Um, yes, sir.” He looked anything but relaxed. “We examined the possibility of using SFS-4 Ghost stealth recon fighters, and—” MacIntosh glanced at Saurez before he resumed. “I believe we can refit them to carry missile armament in addition to beefier energy weapons.”

“In English, Lieutenant,” Nolan said with a smile. “I’m afraid I have little understanding of military terminology, so you’ll have to dumb it down for me.” Maybe that’ll put the kid a bit more at ease.

MacIntosh cleared his throat and took the lifeline thrown at him. “Of course, Mr. President. The overall problem with attacking the League directly is, first, we don’t know what’s waiting for us. Second, we don’t have