Silence greeted him.
“Dismissed and Godspeed.”
Everyone sprang up from their chairs and made a beeline for the hatch.
As Justin got down to the first row, Whatley held up his hand. “A word in private, Lieutenant Spencer.”
Justin stepped to one side. Uh-oh. “Of course, sir.”
The hatch closed behind Feldstein, and they were alone.
As Whatley stared at Justin, he had a feeling that Whatley was sizing him up. The major had quite the reputation as an old-school soldier with a gruff and demanding demeanor.
Finally, Whatley spoke. “I’m allowing you to remain in nominal command of the Red Tails. I don’t enjoy having a reservist as my lead fighter pilot, but”—he shrugged—“I have no other choice.”
Justin stiffened and grimaced. “With respect, sir, I did my duty, and Alpha element held its own.”
“You more than held your own. But it doesn’t change that you’re not a career pilot, and as far as I’m concerned, you didn’t join for the right reasons.”
“Sir?”
Whatley smirked. “Come on, Spencer. You and I both know you got a scholarship out of this, put in the minimum time, took deferral to the reserves as soon as you could, and hoped never to see the inside of another military small craft as long as you lived. That about sum it up?”
For a moment, Justin froze. His cheeks heated, while his mouth opened and closed several times. The truth was undeniable. The way he puts it makes me sound like a coward. Justin briefly felt shame before anger took over. He set his jaw. “Major, I… Look, I couldn’t afford school. I tested high in the CVAB. I’d always loved the idea of flying a fighter in space. So, yeah. I took advantage of the hand life dealt me.”
“In my book, you join the military for one reason, son. That’s defending your country against all enemies, foreign and domestic… in case you don’t remember the oath we took.”
Justin gritted his teeth. “Do you have a point, sir?”
“I always have a point, Lieutenant.” Whatley moved, closing to within two inches of Justin's face. “The moment an active-duty squadron is available to replace the Red Tails, I’m taking it. Until then, do as you’re ordered, stay out of my way, and try not to get the men and women under your command killed. Got it?”
“Yes, sir.” Justin forced the words out through barely disguised rage.
“Dismissed.”
Justin turned on his heel and marched out of the ready room as he struggled to control his emotions. Who the hell does Whatley think he is? I did my duty. A black cloud followed him as he prepared to enter the cockpit once more.
“Conn, Navigation. Lawrence drive emergence complete, within a thousand kilometers of target,” Mitzner called as she shifted in her seat.
Tehrani gazed straight ahead, past Mitzner and Bryan and out into the black void of space. Seven jumps in ten and a half hours. We’re probably lucky to be alive. She turned to Wright. “Any signs of exotic-particle release?”
“No, ma’am.” Wright leaned forward. “I doubt luck had anything to do with it.”
“And you attribute our good fortune to?”
“Maybe a small touch of divine intervention? I could be charitable and credit our chief engineer.”
Since Tehrani had laid down the law the previous day, Wright and Hodges had seemed to get along much better.
“Both sound plausible to me. What about intel updates?”
“Nothing beyond what we already know. The holonews channels are filled with panicked people and rumors of invasion fleets being sighted across the Terran Coalition. CIS still says there’s one force, and it’s at Canaan. They appear to be going for a knockout blow.”
“It would make sense to decapitate our leadership, primary shipyards, and military installations.”
“Pearl Harbor.”
Tehrani stared at him. “Pearl what?”
“The site of a battle back on Earth. Second World War,” Wright began. “I studied military history during my time at the academy. The Japanese military attempted to destroy the American Navy’s Pacific fleet in one fell swoop. The Americans got lucky and didn’t lose their carriers.”
“I think I remember reading something about that.” Tehrani quirked her nose. “As long as we don’t go down in the history books as losing the war during our first battle.”
“Conn, Communications,” Singh interjected. “Flash traffic from CDF Command.”
“My viewer, Lieutenant,” Tehrani replied. She turned to the monitor as a vidlink image appeared.
“Colonel, this is Lieutenant Andrew MacIntosh. I’m attached to General Irvine’s flag staff.” The young man on the screen was wearing CDF duty khakis. He spoke with a bit of a brogue, which matched the Scottish flag on his left shoulder in the country position.
Tehrani checked the series of authentication codes that came through then nodded. “Understood, MacIntosh. What can we do for you?”
“The CSV Conqueror suffered catastrophic reactor failure while attempting a Lawrence drive jump to the fleet’s muster location. She’s under attack by a small force of League escorts and bombers. The Zvika Greengold is ordered to jump immediately and relieve her by any means necessary then render aid as required to get that battleship back in operation. General Irvine wishes to explicitly remind you that losing any capital vessel will be a severe blow to our cause.”
“Understood, Lieutenant. Will there be any backup?”
“We can’t spare anything beyond your battlegroup. Once the Conqueror is back in action, your unit will receive additional orders. Command out.”
“I’ll give him this—he’s direct,” Wright said. “I see a problem here.”
Tehrani turned her head. “Oh?”
“Our escorts are one jump back. Their drives aren’t as powerful as ours, and we couldn’t jump other ships through without overly straining our engines. That wasn’t supposed to be a problem—”
“But it is now.” Tehrani closed her eyes. Allah help
