Nolan let out a sigh. “Yes, I’ve seen those reports, Lieutenant.”
“Well, sir, one of our stealth raider commanders had an idea. We have limited numbers of stealth recon fighters, the one I referenced a few minutes ago. It’s fast and has a Lawrence drive. A small group of ships outfitted with this craft could get close, staying outside of solar systems to remain undetected, and use stealth to stage a raid on Earth.”
The idea of hitting Earth itself immediately captured Nolan’s attention. He sat straighter and narrowed his eyes. “Can we pull it off? Also, why don’t all of our fighters have Lawrence drives, if these do? I would assume that the strategic advance would be massive.”
Saurez leaned forward. “Sir, I want to stress the limited nature of this sort of strike. We’ve got less than one hundred Ghosts in our inventory. They’re incredibly expensive, and it costs as much money for one squadron of them as two destroyers. Perhaps someday in the future, when technology advances to make it feasible, we’ll have a space aviation corps outfitted with FTL capabilities, but for now, it’s limited to recon. What Lieutenant MacIntosh is proposing is taking a few squadrons and equipping those fighters for combat. They’ll be less effective because they’re not designed for a direct-engagement role.”
“I fail to see how a few squadrons of these things can do much damage, then.” Nolan closed his eyes for a moment. He opened them to find MacIntosh smiling broadly.
“Sir, if we send a couple of stealth raiders out with them, we should be able to find ample targets of opportunity. It stands to reason the League would never expect us to show up on their side of the arm. The element of surprise would be a formidable advantage. At any rate, we’d make sure to take out a few installations, cargo ships… stuff that makes a splash. You want a morale win, and you’ll get it.”
Nolan turned toward Saurez. “Are the Joint Chiefs on board?”
“Sir, I will again state that I believe any offensive action at this juncture is foolhardy. However, the plan Lieutenant MacIntosh outlined is the least risky. The worst thing that happens is we lose an escort carrier and a few stealth raiders. Since you’ve made it clear to me you’re dead set on striking at the League, it’s my duty to obey the commander-in-chief.”
“Ah, so it does register sometimes,” Nolan replied. “A question. Why an escort carrier and not a fleet carrier—one of the Saratoga-class ships?”
Saurez pursed his lips. “Simple, sir. We can’t afford to lose a fleet carrier.”
The cold reality of war and the calculation before Nolan made him flinch. Still, it didn’t alter his belief. “Have you selected the vessels to send on this mission yet?”
“I have some in mind, sir. The Zvika Greengold has distinguished herself repeatedly. I think there’s some heroes on that ship—and if anyone can pull this op off, it’s probably Colonel Tehrani and her merry band of pilots.”
“They have to understand the risks, General,” Nolan replied forcefully. He narrowed his eyes and stared at Saurez. “Do you hear me?”
Saurez met his gaze. “Sir, with respect, I give orders, not options, in the Coalition Defense Force.”
“You just got through telling me we can only send a force that’s… what’s the military term? Expendable?” Nolan snapped.
“Yes, sir.”
“Then they get to know the odds and what they’re up against. Do I make myself clear?”
Saurez pulled himself up ramrod straight. “Sir, yes, sir.” He ground the words out.
“Anything else today, ladies and gentlemen?”
Silence was the only response.
Nolan stood. “Thank you, all. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” The moment he cleared the chair, everyone else leaped from their seats. Nolan smiled, nodded toward his chief of staff, and walked out of the situation room. I’m going to have to look those brave soldiers on the Zvika Greengold in the eye and ask them to do this. Anything else would be wrong.
19
CSV Zvika Greengold
Low Orbit—Canaan—Terran Coalition
6 December 2433
A promotion ceremony was usually something with a great deal of pomp and circumstance, especially for an officer. By comparison, the day’s festivities were decidedly low-key. Justin felt perfectly fine with how it was going so far, though he wished Michelle and Maggie could’ve been there to see him. A secondary cargo bay had been cleared for the occasion, filled with rows of chairs and a small lectern. From his position just outside the giant double doors leading inside, Justin could make out Colonel Tehrani and Major Whatley standing next to each other at the front along with the ship’s chaplain, as denoted by the cross on his uniform.
After checking his dress uniform one last time and tugging on his cover, Justin strode into the bay and made his way down the walkway between the rows of chairs. He absentmindedly wiped the sweat from his forehead as he walked, then came to a stop before the lectern. “First Lieutenant Justin Spencer reports as ordered.” As he spoke, he saluted. While technically inside, the cargo bay was considered outdoors for formal activities—and required cover along with salutes.
“At ease, Lieutenant,” Tehrani replied as she returned the salute. She smiled at him and took a few steps toward the stand. “Thank you for joining us today, officers and crewmembers of the CSV Zvika Greengold. We’re gathered to recognize one of our own, First Lieutenant Justin Spencer, on the occasion of his promotion to captain. Major Whatley, Commander, Air Group, CSV Zvika Greengold, will officiate today’s ceremony. Ladies and gentlemen, Major Whatley.”
Tehrani immediately stepped back, and Whatley took her place.
“Spencer, get up here,” he said in his ordinarily gruff voice.
A wave of laughter swept through the cargo bay, and Justin grinned as he took a few steps onto the raised stage. He stood to the rear and left of the major, as he’d
