“Justin!”
“Honey, if we don’t talk to her about it, her friends and the holoprojector will. I’m sure it’s nothing but around-the-clock coverage of this battle and that. From what we’ve seen out in the fleet, those news types talk nonstop about the war.”
Michelle crossed her arms. He knew the look well. She was mad. “That doesn’t mean we need to encourage it. Please, Justin. You don’t see her crying at midnight because she’s terrified you’re going to die.”
Justin closed his eyes and hung his head. He would’ve cried, but most of his tears had already flowed out for the evening. Instead, he felt shame. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize…”
“It’s okay. I know you meant well, but please, try to hold back her enthusiasm to talk about the war.” She brushed her hair out of her face.
Okay, we need to change the subject before I think about jumping out of an airlock. The thought was only half in jest. “I really hope I can visit in the next few weeks.”
“Do you think it’s possible?”
“Yes,” Justin said with a grin. “Beyond that, I can’t say much.”
“The news keeps trumpeting how well we’re doing,” Michelle tilted her head. “But something about it doesn’t hit me as accurate. Not with the rationing going on. There’s a drive going to get people to donate extra electronics and even things like pots! Why would we be doing that if we’re winning?”
“Because the government needs raw materials to build more warships, and rare earth elements are always in short supply.” Justin quirked his nose. “That’s why they’re called rare.”
“Oh, look at you, Mr. Smarty Britches.”
Justin grinned. If I were at home, this line of banter would lead to something else entirely. “Better than calling me dumb.”
She laughed. “You didn’t answer the question.”
“It’s going fine. We’re holding our own.”
“Don’t lie to me.” Michelle crossed her arms. “How bad is it?”
More than anything, he wanted to tell her the war would be won within the year. I wish I thought it would be. Everything they’d seen and heard so far indicated sustained offensive action by the League. The waves of ships were relentless. CDF battle groups would eliminate an enemy unit, and before they even got back to spacedock to crack open a drink, two more would take its place.
“Justin, I know that look.”
“I forget how well you know me sometimes. It’s going to be a fight. I don’t know how long, but it seems like… something on the same level we faced during the Saurian Wars. Beyond that, I can’t say, and please try to remember our comms are being monitored.”
“Monitored?” Michelle’s face contorted.
“Baby, we’re at war. I have no doubt a shackled AI is listening to every commlink going out of every military vessel, checking for breaches of secrecy.”
Michelle touched her fingers to her lips then to the screen. “I love you.” She smiled. “I want you to know that I pray every hour for the safety of you and everyone else on the Zvika Greengold.”
Part of Justin wanted to lash out and tell her there was no such thing as God, only what they saw around them. For a reason he couldn’t readily explain, every time God or religious belief came up lately, he got defensive. Instead, he smiled. “Can’t hurt.” Justin paused. “I’m out of comm credits, hon. Next week?”
She nodded ruefully. “I’ll be here. You’d better be too.”
“Count on it.”
The screen went blank, leaving Justin to a darkened room.
7
The insistent buzzing of the intercom woke Tehrani from her slumber. She opened her eyes with an annoyed groan to see the large digital alarm clock displaying 0300 CMT. It took a moment for her to clear the grogginess and pull herself entirely out of sleep mode.
“Go ahead,” she mumbled, realizing the call had come from the bridge.
“Sorry to wake you, Colonel,” Bryan said. He was standing the midnight watch as command duty officer. “But we’re showing some sensor anomalies that I think you might want to take a look at.”
“League vessels?”
“Possibly, ma’am.”
“I’ll be right there. Call the XO down too.”
“Aye, aye, ma’am.”
The day cabin was only a few steps from the bridge, and Tehrani cursed her earlier decision not to bring up a new uniform. She made herself as presentable as possible in sixty seconds, pulled on her shoes, and strode the few meters down the passageway.
“Colonel on the bridge!” an eagle-eyed senior chief barked.
All personnel not strapped into their seats came to attention and saluted.
“As you were,” Tehrani replied, quickly returning their salutes.
Bryan stood from the CO’s chair. “Ma’am, we keep seeing a sensor ghost at about three hundred thousand kilometers off the port bow.”
“Space is full of them,” Tehrani said with something of a smirk. She crossed her arms. “What necessitated waking me?”
“This one matches our movements.”
A-ha. Tehrani grimaced. “I’ll take the conn now, Lieutenant.”
“Colonel Tehrani has the conn. Aye, aye,” Bryan replied. He made his way to the tactical console and took over for the young second lieutenant learning the ropes during the third watch. She moved off to a subconsole in the back of the bridge.
“This is Colonel Tehrani. I have the conn,” she stated formally. As she sat down, Tehrani punched the intercom button and routed her communication to Major Whatley’s quarters.
“Whatley here.” He sounded exhausted.
“Major, we have a situation in progress. I suspect the convoy is about to be hit again. Get the next shift of pilots ready for combat immediately.”
It seemed as if his brain hadn’t quite engaged yet. “Uh… that’s first watch, ma’am. We can have two elements each of fighters and bombers plus an element of Boars ready in thirty minutes.”
“Do it, Major.”
“Aye, aye, ma’am.”
The line clicked off, and Tehrani turned her attention to the tactical plot. She superimposed the last thirty minutes’ worth of sensor data with tracking lines and, most importantly, the “ghost” LIDAR returns. Her concentration was interrupted by the familiar voice of her XO.
“Reporting as ordered, ma’am,” Wright said as he slid into the XO’s chair directly next
