Sol Strike (Battlegroup Z Book 3)

Wright replied. “Remember, though—we’re early.” He pointed at the clock, which showed time on various Terran Coalition worlds. “Still got a bit until they’re supposed to be here.”
“Conn, Communications. Incoming transmission for you, ma’am. Sender unknown,” First Lieutenant Gopinath Singh, the Greengold’s communications officer, announced.
“Put it on my viewer.”
A moment later, an image of a nondescript human female in a CDF khaki service uniform appeared on Tehrani’s monitor. “Colonel, stand by to receive a shuttle. The individual aboard will have coordinates to your final destination.”
“And where, may I ask, is that?”
The woman smiled thinly. “I suggest you ask the occupant of the shuttle, Colonel. Anything beyond that cannot be discussed on an open commlink.”
“It’s secured—”
“Nothing electronic is secure enough for this conversation. CIS out.”
Tehrani turned toward Wright and shook her head. “Got any ideas what the spooks are up to? Because I’m perplexed.”
“Your guess is as good as mine, ma’am.” Wright, for once, appeared utterly flummoxed.
“Conn, TAO. Aspect change, new contact on sensors, designated Sierra One. Short-range Terran Coalition shuttle.”
“Conn, Communications. Sierra One is requesting docking permission and indicating they have one passenger who needs to see you on the bridge immediately.”
Okay, this is beyond weird. Tehrani furrowed her brow. “Put them down in the starboard bay, Lieutenant, and have a master-at-arms escort them up here.” She turned back to Wright. “I’ve seen some stuff in my day, but this takes the cake.”
“Yeah. Same, skipper.”
They didn’t have to wait long. Fifteen minutes later—which was relatively quick to land a shuttle and get up to deck one—two masters-at-arms and a man wearing a CDF khaki duty uniform entered the bridge. Much like the woman who’d contacted them earlier, he had no name tag, rank, or identifying insignia.
“And you are?” Tehrani asked curtly.
“I apologize, Colonel. I’m not at liberty to reveal my real name. You may call me Mr. Black.” He flashed a smile. “We’re going somewhere that doesn’t exist on any star chart, and the Terran Coalition has taken great pains to ensure it stays that way. I’ll need your navigator to step aside. I’ve got it from here. Also, I must inform you as well as your entire crew that if anyone speaks of this or our destination, you’ll be charged with treason and automatically placed on Lambert’s Lament. Specifically under the terms of the Terran Coalition Espionage and Galactic Security Act.”
Tehrani’s eyes nearly bugged out of her head at the mention of the Terran Coalition’s supermax prison for the absolute worst criminals in the galaxy. Serial killers, mass murderers, repeat child molesters, criminal syndicate leaders, and traitors were the only people sent to it. “Okay, Mr. Black,” she finally ground out. “I’ll ensure cooperation. But I want to know what we’re going to be doing, wherever it is we’re going.”
“Testing your new fighters, far away from any League prying eyes.”
Then why didn’t you just say that? “By all means, then.” Tehrani gestured toward the navigation console. “Lieutenant, allow our new friend here to sit.”
Mitzner sprang up to rigid attention. “Aye, aye, ma’am.” She hovered around her station like it was a life-or-death situation.
“It’ll only take a few moments.” Black took a seat and set a small electronic device down. “This will wipe any coordinates I input,” he announced before tapping the controls. “Initiating Lawrence drive jump now.”
The lights dimmed suddenly, and a whirling vortex of blue, purple, orange, and yellow opened in front of the Zvika Greengold’s bow. Without further orders from Tehrani, the ship slid through the wormhole and emerged a few seconds later on the other side.
“Conn, TAO. Sensors coming online—”
“I apologize, but scanning this system is not allowed.” He touched the device he’d erected on the navigation console. “Did you observe anything before I blanked the sensors?”
At Tehrani’s nod, Bryan cleared his throat. “Enough to see there’s a lot of ships here.”
“No, there aren’t, Lieutenant,” Black replied, his voice perfectly normal. “You saw nothing on that scan. Are we clear?”
“Yes, uh, sir.”
“Good.” Black stood. “I inputted a safe parking orbit for you, and the complement of Ghost fighters will be arriving within the hour. One other thing—I was never here.” He grinned. “I’ve always wanted to say that. Good day, Colonel.”
Tehrani stared openmouthed as the spy left the bridge. “Did that just happen?”
“Yup, skipper, it did,” Wright replied. “I think I need a drink.”
Laughter broke out from those in earshot of the XO’s comment.
Tehrani chuckled politely and shook her head. “Okay. Alert the hangar to expect company shortly. I’ll be in my day cabin. You have the conn, XO.”
“This is Major Wright. I have the conn.”
Being in a star system that officially didn’t exist was beyond bizarre to Justin. As odd as that was, it took a back seat to the marathon efforts underway in the hangar bay to complete the change-out packages on four of the SFS-4 Ghost fighters transferred to the Zvika Greengold. After jumping in, they’d taken forty of the oddly shaped craft on board. While Sabres and Maulers had wings and were designed for atmospheric flight as well as deep-space operation, the stealth recon fighters were clearly meant to stay in the void. They had small circular wings that turned into cylinders along with many sharp edges. Since they were black, it would be difficult for a human eye to even make them out in space.
“Admiring our handiwork, Captain Spencer?”
Justin turned to see MacIntosh standing there in a blue jumpsuit with grease streaked all over it. “Uh, yeah. I guess you could say that.”
“This one is ready to test,” MacIntosh said in his thick brogue. “If you’d like, you could take her for a spin and let me know how she handles.”
Never being one to turn down a test flight or trying something new that potentially went fast and allowed him to see more of the universe, Justin grinned. “I’d love to. Now?”
“No time like the present.”
“Give me fifteen minutes to get my flight suit on.”
“Well, I don’t have any other place to be,” MacIntosh replied.
“In that case, be right