“Because God wills it. His plan will become clear to us someday. For now, it’s His universe, and we get to live in it.”
“My faith is weaker than yours, I think, Rabbi.”
“It shouldn’t be. You’ve told me God sent you a vision. You should have more faith than anyone I know.”
Kravitz's comment caught David off guard. “That seems so long ago.” He stared off into space. “There’s a part of me, Rabbi, that wants to go home. To be done with this life. The rest of me wants to finish it. I know in my heart we’re headed toward disaster. I feel like a voice crying out, ignored and forgotten.”
The rabbi put his arm around him and gave a squeeze. “We all have those feelings at some time or another, David. You will come through it, by the grace and help of Hashem.”
David forced a smile to his face. “I know.” But do I? He thought back to days past when he was sure of God’s impact on his life. Why does it feel like I’m suddenly all alone?
“Now let's finish up those prayers, so you can get back to running the ship.”
As he recited further in Hebrew, David’s heart was still troubled, and he felt as lost as ever.
* * *
Master Chief Gordan MacDonald reached down and yanked the handle to open the hatch marked “Engine Room,” while the sounds of gunfire echoed around him. Sharp reports from CDF issue battle rifles rang out, answered by the whine of League of Sol energy weapons. “Pulse, over!” he shouted, above the din. He swung the heavy door open.
Right on cue, Senior Chief Dennis Harrell, Alpha team’s second in command, tossed a pulse grenade through the hatch. It went off with a loud bang and bright flash of light that would blind anyone not wearing protective eye gear. That wasn’t a problem for the power-armored commandos, who rushed through the opening and shot anything moving with extreme precision.
After Harrell and several members of Beta team charged through, MacDonald followed. He swept forward at a jog, rifle at the ready. A black-clad man in a League uniform jumped out, energy pistol up. With lightning-fast reflexes, he brought his weapon around and pulled the trigger. A three-round burst impacted the man’s center mass, causing him to collapse backward. Half a dozen steps later, the lights turned up, and an alarm klaxon sounded.
“Cease exercise! Cease exercise!” the voice of Major Rajneesh Singh called out. “Alpha and Beta teams, front and center.”
The “stunned” people wearing League outfits stood up and shuffled off as the commandos came together in a neat line, led by MacDonald.
Singh walked in through an open side door, which led to the hangar deck of the Lion. “Two seconds better, gentlemen. Not good enough.”
Alpha team’s resident hacker, and a capable trigger puller in his own right, Petty Officer 1st Class Esmail Rostami, spoke up. “Major, we’ve done the same exercise over thirty times today. This was our best time yet.”
Singh’s gaze locked on to Rostami like a heat-seeking missile. “Was that whining I heard, frogman?”
“Sir, no, sir. Merely suggesting that doing the same thing over and over while expecting different results is the definition of insanity, sir.” Rostami stared directly ahead, his posture ramrod straight.
“He might have a point, sir,” MacDonald interjected. “We set this kill house up to practice assaulting a destroyer, but I think we’re overlooking something.”
Singh shifted down the line. “Do tell, Master Chief.”
“Well, sir, there’s one way in, and one way out of the Leaguer’s engine space. Perhaps we’re being a bit one-dimensional in our thinking. What if we were to make another door? With some explosives.” MacDonald held his breath after he finished. Tensions were high, and everyone was stressed.
There was a slow nod from Singh. The large, ornate knife on his belt bobbed as he did. It was a traditional Sikh knife—a Kirpan—that matched the religious patch on his shoulder. “An excellent idea, Master Chief. We’ll try it after lunch.”
“Excellent, sir.”
“Walk with me, MacDonald.”
“Aye aye, sir. Everyone, break and get some grub. See you back here in thirty mikes.” This ought to be interesting.
As everyone else filed out, including various enlisted personnel from the Lion of Judah who were playing the part of the opposing force, Singh and MacDonald were left alone. The two men took the opposite route toward a different set of messes, led by Singh. “I have some concerns about the team’s performance, Master Chief.”
“I figured you did, sir.”
Singh had been MacDonald’s commanding officer for several years now, under the overall Space Special Warfare Command. The two men had grown close. “Perhaps this is a mission too far.”
“Space walkers don’t believe in the concept of an unwinnable mission.”
Enlisted personnel walked by the two men, in some cases flattening against the interior wall of the passageway to make way. One didn’t mess with a bona-fide tier-one operator.
“Your reactions are sluggish, Master Chief. If that had been for real, your entire team would have been dead, thanks to a self-destruct charge.”
“I thought our contractor friends were going to use some fancy EMP gun to zap the Leaguers.”
Singh stopped in his tracks and turned to face MacDonald. “Master Chief, we never rely on anything but ourselves. I need you to get your men properly motivated. Are we clear?”
“It’s killing morale that we can’t even vidlink with our families, sir,” MacDonald replied, and stood his ground. I miss my wife. I haven’t seen her face in weeks because we used up our credits thinking I’d be home. “And you’d never know it from their performance, because that’s what we do. Lighten up a little bit, sir. Let them take the night off, kick back some beers, and attack it tomorrow.”
There was a long, pregnant pause while the two of them stared at one another in the middle of the walkway. “Okay, we’ll try it your way. Tell them they’ve got the rest of the day off, and we’ll start up again at 0700 tomorrow.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
“Dismissed.”
MacDonald watched as Singh walked away, almost marching. He briefly closed his eyes, tiredness starting to catch up with him—age too. Kicking down doors and shooting Leaguers was a young man’s game, but one he’d better get back into since he had no other marketable skills. He grinned to himself as he turned around and walked toward the nearest Goat Locker—also known as the Chief’s Mess. Ah, who am I kidding? Blasting Leaguers is fun, no matter how old I get.
* * *
CSV Lion of Judah
Deep Space
November 21st, 2462
David glanced around the bridge, to see all stations manned and ready, including backup enlisted personnel. He’d been on watch for the better part of two hours, waiting for the Lawrence drive to finish its cool-down and maintenance checks. It had been a grueling series of back-to-back jumps for the Navigation officers, while everyone else busied themselves with their assigned tasks. Meanwhile, there was a never-ending amount of paperwork for David and Aibek to complete. The only constant of military life.
“Conn, navigation. Lawrence drive is now showing green across the board, sir,” Hammond reported.
“Thank you, Lieutenant.” David glanced at Aibek out of the corner of his eye. “Well, I’m ready to put in to dock and see something besides the insides of this ship. How about you, XO?”
“Agreed, sir.”
“Navigation, confirm final coordinates.”
“Conn, navigation. Coordinates for jump confirmed, sir.”
“Navigation, activate Lawrence drive.”
Hammond’s shoulders tensed up. “Aye aye, sir.”
The massive engines on the Lion started to hum, and the vibration went through the deck. David could feel it through his combat boots. Over the past couple of years, the various oddities of the ship had become second nature to him. He could tell, just by how the deck plates felt, what was going on. Through the transparent alloy win
dows, a swirling mass of colors coalesced in space, directly ahead of them, turning into the maw of their artificial tunnel through the stars.
Hammond’s voice carried across the bridge. “Conn, navigation. Wormhole is stable, sir.”
“Navigation, ahead one-third sub-light.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
The mighty vessel moved forward, and the distance to the wormhole closed steady. Then they were inside of it. In a blur, the walls of the tunnel were visible for five seconds, and as quickly as they entered, the Lion was back in normal space.
David counted off five seconds mentally, the usual amount of time it took for sensors to return to operation.
Like clockwork, Ruth interjected, “Conn, TAO. Sensors online, no hostile contacts. Populating the board with Sierra contacts, including Freedom Station. We’re right on schedule.”
“Conn, communications. General Ambrose sends his compliments and requests we move in for docking.” The voice belonged to Lieutenant Robert Taylor, the first watch comms officer.
“Communications, reply with my compliments to the general, and get a docking port assignment from them.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
The rote task of figuring out where they’d park completed, David turned his attention back to the majestic view of what was now called Freedom Station. It cost us so much to take this thing, but it was worth it. Because of the sacrifice of those who perished here, we now have the ability to strike the League. It seemed like yesterday that he’d led the fleet to victory, and the Marines had stormed the station, turning it on their enemies during the battle.
“Conn, TAO. Sir, I’m getting an interesting reading off the IFF.”
“Care to define ‘interesting,’ Lieutenant Goldberg?” David asked, a wry grin on his face.
“Sorry, sir. I think it would be best to look at this in the holotank.”
“By all means.” David stood and stared at the expansive tactical holotank in the middle of the bridge. It came alive with the image of a large, clearly Terran Coalition warship. It appeared to be modeled after existing heavy cruiser designs but was different in the engine configuration. There were more exhaust nozzles, additional magnetic-cannon turrets, and neutron beam emitter emplacements on the vessel.
“IFF shows as it a Constantine Class, Advanced Heavy Cruiser. CSV Justinian.”
“Most impressive,” Aibek commented. He, too, had stood and was staring.
“Those are our new, anti-matter powered cruisers. Each one is capable of going toe to toe with an improved Alexander class battleship. There should be five more,” David said as he turned back to the CO’s chair and sat. “Those are our escorts.”
“Conn, TAO. Confirmed, sir. CSV Constantine, CSV Basil, CSV Heraclius, CSV Theodosius, and CSV Marcus Aurelius,” Ruth interjected.
Aibek narrowed his eyes. “Those names are unfamiliar to me. What do they signify, General Cohen?”
“Christian emperors of an ancient human civilization called Rome. Except for Marcus Aurelius,” David replied. It took a few minutes of thought for the reasoning to come to him. “He might be in there because he urged the senate of Rome not to persecute Christians after ascribing a miracle to prayers of Christians in his army.”
“I recall you quoting this man before,” Aibek said, his words formed with a slight hiss.
“He was known as a philosopher, even before his death. As he put it, the best revenge is to be unlike those who you fight.” Yes, that’s the point, isn’t it? To not hate your enemy, but to defeat them without becoming what you fight.
Aibek glanced at David, his eye scales blinking. “I find human pre-occupation with words spoken by long-since-dead humans to be interesting.”
“Don’t Saurians have quote books, XO?” Ruth piped up from her chair.
“We do not.”
Ruth cranked her head around and flashed a grin at him. “That’s a shame. I’d love to read some Saurian wisdom.”
“Saurians live our wisdom through honor.”
“Well, we’re all different. But in many ways, the same,” David replied. The words of Aurelius flew through his mind. “Nowhere can man find a quieter or more untroubled retreat than in his own soul.”
Ruth chuckled. “Sounds like something from the back of a greeting card, sir.”
“On a Saurian ship, you would be executed for such disrespect, Lieutenant,” Aibek said in a tone that David could now tell, after years of serving together, was a joke.
“Now, now, XO. No reason to go to extremes.”
There was a smattering of general laughter across the bridge as everyone heard the interaction.
“I’m not a Saurian, but I’ll PT anyone that doesn’t focus on their console,” the harsh voice of Master Chief Tinetariro interjected.
David’s mouth curled up into a grin. “You heard the Master Chief, people. Navigation, intercept course on Sierra One.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
“Conn, TAO. We have a new hole opening. It’s a big one.”
David glanced past Ruth, out the transparent alloy “window” into the deep of space. Freedom Station was readily visible, and he could make out the bright colors of the maw of an incoming wormhole. Leaguers aren’t going to jump something in randomly at this point, but I do wonder what it is.
“Sir, classified as Saurian. Battleship size,” Ruth continued, turning around in her chair. “It's over a kilometer long.”
Aibek raised a scale over his eye. “Ah, this must be our new flagship. The RNV Resit Kartal.”
The mention of Admiral Kartal brought back even more memories from the battle to David’s mind. The disastrous opening that cost the admiral his life, along with over ten thousand CDF and RSN soldiers. He closed his eyes for a moment. As he did, it was almost as if he could see their faces in the blackness. I must tell myself it was worth it. By defeating the League, it will be worth it. “TAO, give us a look.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
The holotank behind the CO’s and XO’s chairs hummed to life once more. It displayed the enormous battleship, which, unlike the Lion of Judah, was purpose-built to mount guns. A lot of guns. A quick mental count by David got to thirty-five visible magnetic cannon turrets, mounting three barrels each. “Wow. Saurians don’t do anything small, do they, XO?”
“Never,” Aibek said in a perfect deadpan, before laughing. “I was not sure if the Chief Minister would be able to get it here in time, but I am glad to see he delivered, as you humans would say.”
David continued to be amused, even after several years, by his XO’s attempts to use human phrases. I wonder if humans serving on Saurian ships do the same thing. It’d be interesting to see them in action. “Alright, enough show and tell for one day.” He sat back in his seat and stared forward. “Navigation, take us in.”
6
CSV Lion of Judah
Freedom Station Berth 3A
November 23rd, 2462
For the two days the Lion had been docked at Freedom Station, Aibek had done nothing but process equipment, supplies, and personnel moving on and off the ship. Each hour seemed like an exercise in pure boredom, especially for a Saurian warrior. Now the day was done. The evening meal had been consumed, and he’d retired to his quarters. He leafed through his copy of the Holy Teachings, akin to a human Bible or Torah. I should ensure I spend more of my day practicing my faith. There are times my ability to show what I believe, rather than tell it, is lacking. Cohen’s example has proven this.
As he continued to read a passage from the Great Prophet, instructing on the proper method for destroying evil, his tablet started beeping. He reached out and grabbed it, expecting to find another urgent request. Probably for more toilet paper. The vidlink application flashed, and when unlocked, showed the incoming call from none other than Chief Minister Obe. He quickly accepted the request and held the tablet so the camera would pick up his form.
“Chief Minister, you honor me. How may I be of service?”
The pictu
re on the tablet faded in and out a few times. “Greetings, Talgat Aibek, in the name of the Great Prophet. I trust you are well?”
“I am. Another day will soon be done, and tomorrow is another chance to strike fear in the hearts of our enemies and the evil one.”
Obe grinned, his teeth showing in the Saurian style. “Have you had a chance to tour the RNV Resit Kartal?”
“I have not,” Aibek said as his face went to a neutral expression. “I had great respect for the Admiral and his sacrifice. It does him great honor to have our latest ship be his namesake.”
“That was my thought too. I hoped you had already met her commanding officer, Fleet Captain Bihter S’stro. But no matter. Tell me, are you willing to take on a mission of great importance to the Saurian Empire?”
“I live but to serve my people, Chief Minister.”
“Then you will take command of the Resit Kartal. S’stro will serve as your executive officer, and you will lead the ship in glory and battle alongside our human allies.”
Aibek blinked, something he’d learned from the humans he’d served side by side with for years, as it wasn’t a natural Saurian reaction. Their eyes didn’t water. “I am honored, Chief Minister. But surely Fleet Captain S’stro is a better choice. She has been the commander of the ship since it was put into space.”
“It may surprise you to hear this, but support for the war is not what it once was,” Obe replied. “There are factions that believe we should step away now and let the new human president flounder on his own. I may yet agree to these demands, but honor demands we remain steadfast allies as long as President Spencer is their leader. He has repeatedly shown, through his own honor and dedication, to the point he rivals even the most steadfast Saurian. To abandon him now would humiliate our entire empire.”
A sentiment I agree with most wholeheartedly. “There is also the matter of the League. While they claim to want peace, a serpent is most dangerous when cornered. We must pursue them to wherever they slither, and crush them under our feet, as commanded by the Great Prophet.”
Run the Gauntlet: Echoes of War Book Six Page 7
