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

map of local space. A series of dotted lines between solar systems appeared. “This is our route. Eight jumps from New Washington to the border zone staging area. Each end is considered a safe zone, as New Washington has its own significant defense fleet, and the staging area has a fleet carrier battle group on station.”

“Are there any systems along the way seeing more attacks than others?” Martin asked. He was on the other side of the ready room.

“Good question, Lieutenant,” Whatley replied. “It would be nice if there were an obvious pattern, but no such luck. The League seemingly engages at will, anywhere along our path. Previous convoys have tried changing it up, and they still get hit.”

Justin cleared his throat. “What about jumping into deep space as opposed to solar systems?”

“As I’m sure you know, Spencer, most freighters lack the power in their Lawrence drives to jump into deep space safely.”

While the in-depth science behind Lawrence drives—which were artificial wormhole generators—was beyond Justin’s knowledge, he’d read material saying what Whatley had just repeated. It still baffled him that the companies who made the freighters wouldn’t spring for better equipment to avoid pirate attacks, or in this case, hostile military forces. Then again, they probably never expected such a thing in our lifetimes. Again and again, the complacency that had set in over the last few decades throughout the Terran Coalition proved to be a significant hindrance.

“Anything else from the peanut gallery?” Whatley asked acerbically. “Good. Moving on. Halfway through the chain of jumps, we’ll stop at a forward CDF refueling station with its own defense unit. Consider it a safe haven.” He gestured at one of the icons representing a solar system, which blinked green. “We may be attacked at any time by an overwhelming enemy force. That’s something I want to stick in your mind. Be mentally prepared. While only one element will be in space, I’ll keep an additional element on ready five.”

Groans rippled through the room. Though Justin didn’t join the chorus, he understood the frustration. Hour after hour of sitting in a cockpit, unable to use the bathroom, eat, or do anything got old—especially with no end in sight.

“My recommendation is to ensure you don’t eat anything except c-rations within three hours of going on duty. We all know how long it takes the body to process them,” Whatley said with a grin. “Gamma element will provide combat space patrol for our first jump, followed by Beta and Alpha for the second and third jumps respectively. Boar and Mauler elements will stay on ready five but not launch unless the Leaguers attack. Any questions?”

No one had any. Whatley’s plan of engagement was thorough, as usual.

“Very good. Rest up and get some sleep tonight. Tomorrow starts hell week. Dismissed!”

Amid the mad dash for the doors, Justin didn’t move as fast as the rest.

Feldstein fell in next to him as he cleared the hatch. “Three ships guarding an entire convoy?” she asked in a tone of disbelief.

“What does Mateus like to say? Target-rich environment?”

“Sir, that’s nuts. More like a suicide-rich environment.”

Justin stopped in the corridor and stared at her. “It’s what we signed up for, right?” At her nod, he continued. “We do the best we can and hope it’s enough.”

“Yes, sir.”

As they resumed walking, Justin felt unsettled. Maybe it was fear of the unknown. Whatever it was, he felt sure they would be happy to see the end of the convoy run. Then turn around and do it again. An old saying about the definition of insanity crept into his mind. I wish I could’ve said goodbye to my wife properly while we were here.

4

The next day, Tehrani could feel the tension on the bridge of the Zvika Greengold. They’d completed one jump successfully but had seven more to go. The sense of dread wasn’t something she was used to, since it was her first time on convoy duty. In the series of combats they’d fought against the League a month ago, the nonstop nature of the action kept her adrenaline pumping. In turn, it had afforded her the luxury of endless hours of contemplation. She felt comforted that midday prayers had concluded an hour before. Ever since the war started, Tehrani had gone to the mosque more often and actually cracked open her Koran. Confronting death had its way of affecting everyone.

Seated in the XO’s chair, Wright said to her, “All ships under escort report Lawrence drive cool-down complete. We’re ready to jump, ma’am.”

“Too bad we’re escorting merchant freighters with piss-poor Lawrence drive models. We could’ve jumped two hours ago,” Tehrani replied. It wasn’t their fault that the cargo ships weren’t designed for combat, but it did complicate the run—and endanger her crew.

“I think we’re seeing the effect of thirty-five years of peace. I read something about merchant vessels previously being required to be able to keep up with a warship… but those were phased out because of deregulation.”

Tehrani snorted and let out a sigh. “As long as we make the run with a minimum of combat, I don’t care.”

First Lieutenant Zachary Bryan, the tactical action officer, turned around. “I’m hoping to light up some more Leaguers and get another battle star.”

“And that’s why I’m in charge,” Tehrani replied. “As you were, Lieutenant.”

“Aye, aye, ma’am,” Bryan said. He faced his console once more.

“Navigation, verify Lawrence drive coordinates for next convoy jump.”

“Coordinates verified, ma’am. We’re ready to engage,” Mitzner replied.

“Communications, alert the convoy to stand by for jump two.”

The Greengold’s Communications officer, First Lieutenant Gopinath Singh, spoke. “Aye, aye, ma’am.” He was tall for a human male and had a commanding presence on the bridge. His bright-purple turban, a symbol of his Sikh religious beliefs, enhanced his height by several centimeters. “Captain Shikoba reports all merchant vessels ready.”

“Navigation, execute Lawrence drive jump.”

As soon as the words left Tehrani’s mouth, the lights on the bridge dimmed. She could feel the hum through the deck plates, up into her black combat boots. Directly ahead of them,