Sol Strike (Battlegroup Z Book 3)

face. “With the fast movers from our fleet carriers pinning them down, another battlegroup with the CSV Lion moved in. We bagged one of the battleships, and the rest fled. They lost several frigates and destroyers too. CDF losses were paltry, only two frigates.”
Nolan nodded thoughtfully, and a smile spread across his face. “I’ll take that any day, General.” It registered at the back of his mind that each frigate had two hundred soldiers. I’ve officially reached the stage in which deaths are counted as statistics. “Any other major battles?”
“A few skirmishes, sir. If we’re looking solely at tonnages destroyed, the CDF continues to perform in an exemplary manner. On any given day, we knock out four to five times what we lose.”
What Saurez had left off was the projections showing they needed to increase that metric by at least another factor. But I get him not wanting to dampen the mood. Nolan let the point go. “And our Sol operation?”
“Captain MacIntosh has briefed the senior officers on the Zvika Greengold, sir. They’ll begin testing modifications to the SFS-4 Ghost recon fighters soon.”
“When can we expect them to get underway?”
“As soon as the modifications check out.”
“Good.” Nolan glanced around the room. He was sure most professional military officers and the cabinet secretaries read into his plan to assault Earth thought it foolhardy. This is a case in which I overrule all. Nolan was careful not to bring out that attitude often, but he was convinced to the depths of his soul they had to roll the dice. “Preparations for me to visit the Greengold, once they’re ready to go?”
“Still in the planning stages, sir. I would again respectfully ask you to reconsider.”
“My answer remains the same,” Nolan replied. “Other topics?”
“The Saurians have agreed to meet with our ambassador to discuss the war,” Karimi announced. “I wouldn’t expect to see them do much, but just sitting down with us is huge.”
Nods came from all around the table.
Saurez leaned forward. “If it comes up, they have a bunch of surplus from the last war, just like we do. We could use some additional escorts.”
“You want us to buy alien military hardware that’s forty-five years old?” Karimi asked with scorn.
“The problem isn’t a lack of manpower—it’s a lack of space-worthy military vessels. It would take less time to slap some upgraded weapons and shields on alien ships, as you put it, than wait a year for the yards to start pumping out destroyers, frigates, and cruisers again,” Saurez replied.
“Abdul, take a note for the ambassador. No reasonable offer will be refused if they’re willing to sell. And make the same inquiries through our embassies in other major powers.” Nolan sat back. I couldn’t care less who makes the equipment, as long as we’re using it on Leaguers. Though as he turned the thought over in his mind, the idea of Saurian ships with human crews was a bit laughable.
“Yes, sir.” Karimi assumed a neutral expression. Nolan recognized it well—it was the look of a man who knew something he disagreed with was going forward.
“What else?” Nolan asked the room at large.
“I won’t bore you with the details, sir,” Saurez replied, “but we’re making progress on designing a series of modular warships that can be produced in bulk. The idea being different shipyards can specialize in the production of a specific section and crank through it. Our top people from the Special Projects Division are on it.”
“How long until we see the fruits in terms of faster ship production, General?” Nolan asked.
“Still a couple of years away, sir. I know you want results yesterday, but the life-cycle timeline of military procurement is what it is.”
Nolan made a fist under the table and pumped it several times. “Gentlemen, perhaps I haven’t made myself clear. Remove roadblocks. Improve timetables. Whatever it takes.” He grimaced. “We’re at war.”
“Well, sir, there’s checks and balances—”
“General, can I waive these procurement roadblocks via executive order?”
Saurez narrowed his eyes. “Sir, you can, but I warn you that when we cut corners on competitive bidding, the military ends up paying far more than it needs to.”
“But it’s done faster, correct?”
“Well, typically, but—”
“Then do it, General. That is a direct order from your commander in chief.”
“Yes, sir.” Saurez’s posture changed ever so slightly—he sat even more ramrod straight.
Tension settled into the room. The daily briefings were always charged, but lately, more give and take centered around Nolan’s desire to speed things up.
“Whatever it takes, ladies and gentlemen.”
Some cabinet members favored trying to win the war on the cheap, but he was convinced the only way to win was total and complete refocusing of everything in the Terran Coalition toward the war effort. If he had his way, the manufacturing base would only make war matériel for the foreseeable future. “
“That’s all we have for you today, sir,” Karimi interjected. “And your next meeting is in ten minutes—Oval Office, commerce secretary, and representatives from the trade guilds.”
“In other words, quit pontificating and get a move on?” Nolan asked, grateful for an opening to inject some humor.
Karimi grinned sheepishly. “Yes, sir.”
“Then let’s go. Thank you, everyone. See you tomorrow morning, and Godspeed.”
Nolan stood, and the rest of those assembled rose instinctively. As he walked out, two protective service agents fell in behind him. Above all, he hoped the raid on Earth would succeed. Deep within his soul, something told him it was one of the few paths they had to victory.
New Washington
Spencer Residence
8 February 2434
Since the beginning of the war, life had changed markedly—and quickly—on the home front throughout the Terran Coalition. Michelle Spencer sat on the couch of their living room, flipping through a digital ration book on her tablet device. A few months ago, the idea of not buying anything she wanted on nearly a moment’s notice had been a foreign, even ludicrous concept. On the hyperindustrialized core planets of the Terran Coalition, convenience was a fact of life. With five minutes of shopping on her tablet, thirty minutes later, a