Hostile Spike (Battlegroup Z Book 2)

pulled himself up to his full height. “Well, uh, s-sir…” His Scottish brogue came through loud and clear. “We have in our inventory stealth recon fighters. They carry miniature Lawrence drives with a twenty-five lightyear range.”
“They also have no weapons to speak of besides basic energy cannons,” Saurez snapped.
“Let him finish, General.” Nolan crossed his arms. “He’s got my attention.”
“We could get a carrier close enough to launch a direct attack on their space-based infrastructure, and yes, I know those fighters don’t have hardpoints, but they could be modified to carry anti-ship missiles. They’re only so underarmed to preserve stealth.”
“Even if all that went down exactly as you proposed, Lieutenant,” Saurez began with the tone of a man who’d said the same thing before and didn’t like repeating himself, “the impact on the League’s ability to wage war would be negligible. Meanwhile, if they got lucky and found the carrier, we’d be down a significant asset. It’s not worth the risk!”
Nolan pursed his lips. “You forget the morale boost we’d get and the hit they’d take. We’d prove in one fell swoop that they’re not safe from our reach. That is worth the risk, General.”
Silence surrounded them while Karimi and the protective detail looked on impassively.
Saurez finally spoke. “Mr. President, you’re the boss. If you order me to do this, I will. But I cannot stress to you enough that it’s foolhardy. It takes six years to build a Saratoga-class carrier. Please consider that.”
“We could use a smaller carrier,” MacIntosh said quietly. “That wouldn’t carry as much risk.”
“It sounds to me like this plan has promise,” Nolan stated. “Come back to me with an operational plan. Find a way to make it work.”
“But, sir—”
“Do it, General,” Nolan replied. “Dismissed.”
Saurez turned on his heel and marched away, MacIntosh in tow.
As MacIntosh cleared the door, Nolan thought he saw the smallest hint of a smile on his face, which in turn made Nolan grin. “Abdul, follow up on this for me. Daily.”
“Yes, sir.”
“What’s next?”
“Briefing with the SecDef on shipyard expansion, sir.”
“Lead the way.”

3
One of the constants of the universe, at least in the Coalition Defense Force, was paperwork. Forms existed for practically every known action on a ship, from personnel requests to promotions to crew discipline and the ever-present after-action and sitrep reports. After almost twenty years in uniform, Tehrani was used to it, but that didn’t mean she enjoyed or liked the triplicate filling out of everything under the sun. Since 0600, she’d been at her desk in the day cabin just off the bridge, toiling away.
The tablet on her desk buzzed.
A welcome distraction. Tehrani put down the specialized device for form editing and picked up her tablet. The vidlink tab was up, showing Major General Shingo Yukimura, the commanding officer for their carrier division, which included several Thane-class vessels. She sat up straight and touched the accept button.
Yukimura appeared on the screen. “Colonel Tehrani. I hope I didn’t wake you.” He wore the standard khaki duty uniform and had the Japanese nation-state’s flag on his right shoulder—a red circle against a white background.
“No, sir. I keep the Greengold on Coalition Mean Time.” She grinned. “And I’ve been crunching paperwork for hours.”
“I’ll cut right to the chase, Colonel.” Yukimura had overall control over most convoy assignments in their sector. She’d gotten to know him as he took over the role after the attack on Canaan. By all appearances, Yukimura was a highly competent and outstanding leader. “The Conqueror and her battlegroup won’t be joining you at New Washington. They’re needed to deal with a League attack on one of our border planets.”
Tehrani leaned back in amazement. Her jaw dropped. “Sir, that leaves us with three warships to escort a couple dozen civilian freighters.”
“Yes.”
“That’s insane, sir.” Her shock was rapidly replaced by anger. “I read the reports from previous convoys along this route. Multiple probing attacks by frigates and destroyers. Waves of capital ships. The last one lost fifty percent of its merchantmen.”
“I agree with you, Colonel. But orders are orders. Carry them out to the best of your ability and accept that some of the civilian ships probably won’t make it.”
Tehrani’s stomach twisted into a knot. The idea of sending untrained civilians into a war zone to die didn’t sit well with her. “Can’t you shake some more ships loose, sir?”
“No.” Yukimura shook his head. “It’s terrible out there, Colonel. That’s all I can say. I trust your pilots will do the best they can. If it comes down to it, you are ordered to protect your command and the battlegroup over the civilian freighters. It’s a lot easier to replace a bulk cargo hauler than a carrier.”
The harsh calculation of war made Tehrani’s heart sink. She forced the emotion back. “I understand, sir.”
“I’ll try to have some additional escorts added to your battlegroup for the return trip.” Yukimura paused. “Oh, and one last thing. I decided to assign the designation of Battlegroup Z to your force.” His mouth curled into a small grin.
Tehrani rolled the name around in her mind. It did have a certain ring to it. “May I ask why, sir?”
“Oh, just a bit of historical play on words. Look it up if you have the time.” Yukimura turned serious once more. “Good luck, Colonel, and Godspeed.”
“Thank you, sir. Godspeed to you too.”
The tablet went dark, leaving Tehrani to her thoughts. She sat back and stared at the overhead. The brutal reality of the conflict had been laid bare. For the entirety of her service in the Coalition Defense Force, she’d always thought the CDF worked for good in the galaxy. The orders to leave the civilians behind if the need arose didn’t shake her belief, but it was a far cry from what she’d always been taught. Leave no one. Risk everything to save just one. Such was rooted in the Terran Coalition’s collective religions—all espoused putting oneself in harm’s way to save the least among them. I’ll do my best to see us through.
The chime