Sol Strike (Battlegroup Z Book 3)

and sisters, except in arms rather than blood.” The deep timbre of his voice made the words sound even better. “And I believe we will avenge our fallen. I know it.”
“Thanks, Jackson.” Mateus swept a stray hair out of her right eye. “Okay, let’s dispense with the sappy and get back to playing cards.” She took a swig of beer. “Or do I need to order you all to take some shots?”
“You can’t order me,” Justin observed. “Seeing as I outrank you.”
Mateus grinned evilly. “But I am a woman, so I can bend any man to my will.”
“Keep dreaming.” Justin chuckled. “And please say that in front of my wife.”
They all laughed again before beginning another round of blackjack. Two hours later, nearly 0100 CMT, the game finally broke up, and they helped Mateus clean her quarters. Adeoye’s cabin was farther down the same deck, so he bid them all good night, leaving Justin and Feldstein to walk to the gravlift together.
“I think I had too much to drink,” she said, letting out a sigh. “Probably going to pay for it tomorrow.”
“We’re not twenty anymore,” Justin replied. He snorted. “I was never into drinking, anyway.”
“Yeah, I noticed you never have more than two beers.”
Justin shrugged and pressed the button to call the gravlift. “My father had a problem with the stuff. I know alcoholism can be genetic, so I’ve never actually been drunk.”
Feldstein stared at him like he’d grown a second head. “Not even at your wetting down for getting flight wings?”
“Nope.” Justin shook his head and smiled. “I faked it.”
“Ha.”
The gravlift doors swooshed open, and both of them walked inside. Justin hit the button for the deck where the rest of the pilots’ quarters were housed. A moment later, it took off.
“You’re not the only one who thinks about the fallen,” Feldstein said, breaking the somewhat awkward silence. “I do too.”
“I didn’t mean to—”
Feldstein held up her hand. “Not meant as a rebuke, only a reminder you’re not alone. I’m here any time you want to talk or try to deal with what’s happened.” She smiled ruefully. “After all, we’re some of the only people who know what this”—she waved her arms in the air—“feels like.”
“True.” Justin closed his eyes briefly. “At least we get to see our families soon, right?”
“Yeah.” Her tone changed suddenly to one of mild annoyance. “Well, some of us, anyway.” The doors to the lift opened. “I’m going to get some rest.” She turned and walked down the passageway.
“Good night,” Justin called after her. His cabin was in the opposite direction, and while he thought about chasing her down and figuring out what was wrong, a strong desire to sleep before he collapsed onto the deck plating overtook him. Once he’d made it to his stateroom, Justin fell onto the bed, uniform still on, and was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

5
The space-elevator complex in geosynchronous orbit around New Washington was a marvel of human engineering. It rivaled a similar installation at Canaan for complexity and size, though Canaan had separate civilian and military traffic centers. While shared, New Washington’s had primarily been used by the CDF since the outbreak of hostilities.
Justin settled along with a couple hundred other members of the Zvika Greengold’s crew into a large “car” that conveyed personnel and cargo from the surface to space and back. He purposely avoided traveling with the rest of the pilots, hoping instead to clear his head during the thirty-minute trip down. More than anything, Justin craved some separation between his duties and seeing his family again.
As the elevator car landed on the surface, large crowds of family members were visible beyond the unloading area. I wonder how many there are. Justin did some quick mental math and realized that given the number of officers and enlisted personnel on the carrier, easily ten thousand family members could be waiting for them.
The external doors opened, and it seemed as if everyone charged the opening at once. It took a few minutes to get outside. Once Justin did, he took in the scene. A sea of humanity had been organized into rows based on last name. Large overhead signs indicated where they should queue, and he got in line under a giant S.
After another wait that seemed to take forever but was only ten minutes, Justin’s line started to move. He cleared the unloading area and walked out into a large, grassy park where throngs of civilians waited. Scanning the crowd, Justin saw Michelle standing toward the front with a large sign that proclaimed Welcome Home, Justin! Next to her was his daughter, Maggie, her face half-hidden by a rope strung between poles for maintaining order. Nearly overcome by emotion, he rushed forward.
When he was halfway there, Michelle saw him and started waving wildly, as did Maggie.
“Justin!” Michelle screamed at the top of her lungs and vaulted over the rope.
They met, and Justin wrapped his arms around her as tightly as he could. “Oh, baby. I’m so glad to see you.” Throwing all decorum to the wind, he kissed her passionately. “I’ve missed you so much.” Emotion overtook him as her lips met his.
“Daddy! Daddy!” Maggie screamed and jumped on him, holding on for dear life.
Justin turned, added her to his embrace, and held them tightly. Nothing he’d ever done in life was equal to how he felt at that moment. Elation, joy, and love washed through him like a roaring flood, leaving him at a loss for words.
All around them, throngs of family members reunited with their loved ones—mothers, fathers, sons, daughters, husbands, and wives. Emotion hummed in the air. The crowd embraced, cried, laughed, and engaged in enough public displays of affection to make anyone blush.
Taking a step back and finally breaking the family hug, Justin stared at his wife and daughter. They were wearing similar purple-and-white polka dot dresses.
“Uh, you two look, uh, coordinated.”
Michelle grinned, and her eyes twinkled. “They’re called mother-and-daughter dresses, silly.”
“We saved up our ration cards so we