Run the Gauntlet: Echoes of War Book Six

by Gibbs, Daniel

  Bursts of purple xaser energy flew through the air, impacting on equipment all around them, while the commandos returned fire with pinpoint accuracy. Over the course of thirty seconds, it was mostly over. Dozens of bodies littered the ground, and the scent of iron—from the gallons of blood spilled—was so strong, MacDonald swore he could smell it through his suit’s filtration system.

  The team cleared the periphery of the space before turning to the center and their objective—the fusion reactor that powered the League destroyer. A few defenders remained, holed up behind a hastily erected barricade of an overturned tool container.

  “If you come any closer, I’ll blow the reactor!” a voice shouted in accented English.

  Oh great. Some Leaguer idiot wants to be a hero. “And kill yourself along with us?” MacDonald yelled back, his voice carrying thanks to the amplifier in his helmet.

  “For the glory of the state!”

  MacDonald raised his hand, pointed at Mata, and motioned to the right, then at Harrell and pointed to the left. “I’ve got a better idea. How about you throw down your weapon, and we’ll make sure you get three hots and a cot. Better than life here. What’cha say?” Gotta keep him talking.

  “Why are you capitalist dogs here? Why have you come to our homes?” The man’s tone was almost to hysterics.

  “Buddy, we’re just following orders. My CO told me to capture this ship. That’s what I’m going to do.”

  A head belonging to a League engineer peeked over the container. “I don’t believe you. Commissar always say that capitalist religious dogs from Terran Coalition lie.”

  A quick glance to either side told MacDonald that Mata and Harrel weren’t in position yet. He let his battle rifle drop into the one-point sling he carried it on and held his hands out. “Look, I don’t want to shoot an untrained conscript any more than you want to blow yourself up. Come on out of there with the rest of your fellows, and we’ll call it a day.”

  For a moment, it seemed as if the group might see reason. And then there was a loud shout as one of the other engineers started grappling with the man who appeared to be about to give up.

  “Go, go, go! Waste em! Shoot!” MacDonald thundered as he whipped up his rifle and fired on full auto through the tool container.

  Mata and Harrell added to the maelstrom of bullets with crossfire from both sides.

  When the reports of their battle rifles faded, MacDonald stepped forward and peered behind the makeshift barricade. He saw three bodies, all shredded from gunfire. A damn shame. What caught his eye more was a loose strand of cable leading to the reactor housing.

  Rostami appeared and knelt next to the Leaguer who’d done the talking. “He was trying to vent the primary coolant loop. Almost did it too,” he said after a few seconds of examining the bodies and the gear around them. “Give me ten minutes, and I’ll get it cleaned up.”

  “You’ve got five,” MacDonald barked. “Now clear out this section, and we’ll help Demood and his boys finish mopping up the ship.”

  14

  David stared at the tablet computer on his desk, propped up in its stand. He had retired to his day office after a few hours in the CO’s chair, waiting on word from the Tucson. The walls seemed to be closing in on him after more time spent doing busy work. Ugh. I detest waiting. The case he’d been reading detailed an enlisted soldier breaking into the officer's mess after hours and stealing a bottle of alcohol, which was then used in a drinking game.

  He shook his head, suppressing a smile at the man’s gumption before typing out his sentence: two days bread and water diet, three hundred additional hours of cleaning duty. As he went to review the next file, the intercom went off.

  Taylor’s voice filled the room. “Sir, I’ve got a tightbeam transmission from the Tucson. They report mission success and will be transiting back to our location momentarily. Major Mancini respectfully requests we do not shoot down the captured destroyer.”

  For the first time in many days, David felt relief course through him. Anger, while still present within him, had an outlet. Finally, success. He stood. “Acknowledged, Lieutenant. I’m on my way.”

  After walking the few short steps from the day cabin to the bridge of the Lion of Judah. David exchanged salutes with the TCMC sentries posted at its imposing hatch and pulled his cover on as he strode into the enormous bridge, coupled with a combat information center.

  “General on deck!” a senior enlisted soldier called out.

  “As you were,” David quickly answered before the bridge was disrupted too much. He came to a stop beside the CO’s chair, occupied by Ruth. “This is the commanding officer. I have the conn.”

  Ruth glanced up. “General Cohen has the conn, aye, sir.” She then stood.

  A moment later, the transfer was complete, and David found himself calling up the tactical sensor scan data—which showed them completely alone, aside from the small fleet of CDF vessels and the Saurian battleship.

  “Conn, TAO. Aspect change, inbound wormholes,” Kelsey announced crisply. “One CDF signature, one League signature.”

  David let out a breath as he stared at the plot.

  “Conn, TAO. CSV Tucson confirmed and designated as Sierra One. League destroyer confirmed, designated Master One.” Kelsey followed procedure to the letter—any League contact was assumed hostile until proven otherwise.

  “Conn, communications. Inbound transmission from the Tucson, sir.”

  “Put it on my viewer, Lieutenant.”

  A few moments later, the smiling face of Mancini appeared directly above David’s head. “General, greetings. I present you with our bounty. One League of Sol Cobra class destroyer, captured intact. She’ll need some work, but nothing we haven’t planned for. Your Marines and tier-one operators performed superbly.”

  “Glad to hear it, Major. The air boss will guide your ship into our hangar. Briefing in one hour.”

  “Aye aye, sir. Mancini out.”

  “Cohen out.” The screen blinked off, leaving the bridge momentarily quiet. “Communications, let the hangar bay know to start phase two. We’ll need to shuttle all POWs off and the repair crews on.” David settled back in his seat. Now the hard part starts.

  * * *

  Several hours later, David adjusted himself in his seat at the head of the conference table. He and the Lion’s entire command staff, along with General Hale and Major Mancini, were grouped around it for what would be their final briefing before the assault on the League shipyards began.

  “Master-at-arms reports all Leaguers locked up in the brig,” Calvin announced. “I’ve got Marines in power armor stationed throughout the holding area, and in the surrounding passageways.”

  “Very good, Colonel,” David replied. “Any viable intel out of them?”

  “Some. We went easy on ‘em for the most part. The tier-one boys had a chat too. Got some information about Leaguer security forces and the readiness of our targets. Safe to say, no one is expecting us.”

  Hale snorted. “That doesn’t mean it’ll be easy.”

  “Few things worth doing in life are easy, General,” David interjected, his tone curt. “This mission, especially. Are our fighter groups integrated?” He glanced between Hale and Amir as he spoke.

  “As much as they can be, sir,” Amir replied. “General Hale’s CAG has been instrumental in ensuring we all get along.” The pilot cracked a grin. “You know how fighter jocks can be.”

  “Don’t I,” David began, a twinkle in his eye for a moment. “Okay. Moving on… Major Hanson. Have you integrated Doctor Hayworth’s new algorithms for Lawrence drive jumps?”

  Hanson cleared his throat. “Yes, sir. I can’t test it outside of a simulation, though.”

  “I’ll have to trust the good doctor doesn’t want us all to die in a massive explosion.”

  Everyone stared at David, seemingly unsure of the intent of his words.

  “A joke, people.” Yeah, we’re all keyed up. David moved to Mancini and Kenneth, who sat
next to one another. “Status of the Tucson, and our prize?”

  “On the outside, no one will be able to tell our League destroyer got popped,” Mancini replied. “Your contractor buddies did an okay job.”

  Kenneth grimaced. “Okay? Just okay?”

  “Passable.”

  David laughed, hoping it would spread to the others. “So it’s ready?”

  “Yes, sir,” Kenneth replied, his tone confident. “I’ll stake my life on it.”

  “That’s good, because a lot of Marines and fellow soldiers will be staking theirs on getting in safely… and out.” David’s tone became pensive. “I suspect this will be the toughest assignment of our respective careers, ladies and gentlemen.”

  “Semper Fi, do or die.” Calvin’s loud voice and cocky tone carried through the room. “If it was easy, you wouldn’t need the Marines.”

  “What I mean to say,” David began, “is that I wouldn’t think of such an extreme and risky mission without the best team in the Terran Coalition. As I look around this table, there’s no group of people I’d rather put my life on the line with.” He glanced down at his hands for a moment, folded as they were. “I wish you all Godspeed, and that we may see each other again.”

  “Living up to our motto, sir,” Ruth said with a grin.

  It seemed most of them didn’t want to consider the finality of the briefing. The sure and certain knowledge there would be losses and causalities. Probably better that way. Semper Atticus. Always at the front, as the Lion’s official motto went. David quickly glanced around the room once more. “Anything else, ladies and gentlemen?” He counted off a full three seconds mentally. “Very well, dismissed.” As the group stood up as one, he positioned himself at the door and shook the hand of each person as they left.

  Kenneth Lowe, the lone civilian in the room, was the last one out. “You have the appearance of a troubled man, sir,” he commented as he shook David’s hand.

  “We’re months at normal speed from any friendly reinforcement, going into the teeth of the League’s home systems. Anyone that isn’t troubled has something wrong with them.”

  “I’ve learned the last few years never to underestimate the Lion of Judah.”

  David pursed his lips together before breaking into a smile. “No, never underestimate the power of free men and women fighting to defend their homes and what they believe in. Carry on, Mister Lowe.”

  “Aye aye, sir,” Kenneth replied as he exited the conference room.

  15

  Sleep had not come to David the night before. On the eve of what was arguably the most crucial battle of his life, there was no one to talk to. Those he’d typically have confided in or talked to were ten thousand light-years away and incommunicado, thanks to EMCON. Instead, he’d prayed, read his Torah, and eventually fell into a restless sleep for a few hours. Once he awoke, he was still uneasy. Fear filled his soul from a source he couldn’t pinpoint. I don’t have time for anything but cold hard logic and execution today. Such were his thoughts as he completed his morning routine and made his way to the bridge, exchanging salutes with the sentries at the entrance hatch.

  “General on the bridge!” Master Chief Tinetariro announced.

  Anyone not strapped into their console came to attention and saluted, while those seated sat up just a tiny bit straighter.

  David finished pulling on his cover as he walked through the hatch and smiled. “As you were, ladies and gentlemen.” He offered a nod toward Tinetariro and strode to the CO’s chair. “This is General Cohen. I have the conn.” His eyes glanced around the bridge to see the first watch personnel had already arrived and taken their stations.

  “General Cohen has the conn, aye,” Ruth answered per rote procedure with a grin in his direction.

  “Anything to report, XO?” David asked as he settled into his seat.

  “Mr. Lowe wanted it passed on that his team was done with the League destroyer. The Marines and our commando units are on board and ready to launch, as is the Tucson.”

  Not a bad way to start the morning. I had some concern Kenneth would struggle to repair crappy League tech. He nodded to her, his jaw set. David turned his head toward Taylor. “Communications, patch me through to Major Mancini.”

  “Aye aye, sir.”

  A moment later, Mancini appeared on the monitor above David’s head. He was wearing a black and gray League uniform, which David found somewhat unsettling. “Good morning, General.”

  “Likewise, Major. I understand our trojan horse is ready to roll.”

  Mancini broke into a grin. “Ready as we’ll ever be, sir. This ship’s packed to the gills with four hundred and fifty of your best Marines and commandos. Leaguers won’t know what hit them.”

  “To confirm, one more time, you’ll transmit the codeword ‘Goliath’ once you’re safely docked and ready to infiltrate the station.”

  “Yes, sir,” Mancini replied as he shifted in his seat.

  Anxiety and concern clawed at David’s heart. God, please don’t let me send this man and his crew, some of whom are my friends, out to die needlessly. Let it be worth it. “Is Colonel Demood available?”

  “That he is. Colonel!”

  Calvin stepped into the picture and flashed a big grin. He, too, wore a utilitarian League uniform. “You sure we have to wear these stupid Leaguer getups, sir? I hate this thing. It makes me look fat.”

  The bridges of both ships broke out into sustained laughter. David found himself glad he hadn’t been taking a drink of coffee from the mug in his chair. It would’ve sprayed out. “Take care out there.”

  “Don’t worry about us, sir; we’ve got plenty of Leaguers to deal with to keep us busy,” Calvin replied.

  “Any final orders, sir?” Mancini asked.

  “None. We’ve been over this a million times mentally. Execute the plan, react to the changes that contact with the enemy force us to make. Win.”

  “Aye aye, sir. See you at the rendezvous point and Godspeed.”

  “Godspeed, Major. Cohen out.” He sat back in the comfortable chair and glanced around the bridge. There was a certain tension among the personnel present, but not in a bad way. They were ready. Perhaps I should give all of us a few words. “Communications, patch 1MC into a fleet-wide transmission, tight band only.”

  “Aye aye, sir. You’re live.”

  David pulled his uniform sweater down and straightened his posture. “Attention all hands, this is General Cohen. A few minutes from now, our efforts to destroy the majority of the League’s shipbuilding infrastructure will begin. It’s been a long journey into the heart of our enemy. We’re far from home and our loved ones, cut off from all forms of communication. I take solace in knowing that this fleet comprises the bravest and the best fighting men and women in the Coalition Defense Force and the Terran Coalition Marine Corps. We’ve trained, we’ve drilled. We’ve practiced until it’s engrained into the muscles of our hands and feet.” He paused a breath, and a glance around the room told him everyone was staring in rapt attention. “All that’s left is to complete the plan. It won’t be easy, but I have every confidence that our fleet will execute at the highest level, and we will carry the day. Now we wait until our captured destroyer signals it’s safely docked. Then we’re going to rain fire and brimstone down on the League. So trust in God and in our fellow soldiers. Today, we will not be stopped!”

  Thunderous applause broke out from the enlisted ratings on the bridge along with cheers.

  “As you were! Maintain proper bridge protocol,” Tinetariro bellowed.

  Immediately, the tumult ceased, leaving them in silence. David bowed his head and began to pray softly in Hebrew. “Lord of the Universe, help me today to discharge my duties, to remember and keep Your commandments, and if it is Your will, allow those who serve under my command to return home safely to their families. In Your name, I pray, amen.”

  Ruth spoke softly, also in Hebrew. “Hear Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord is One. And you shall love the Lord
your God, with all your heart, and with all your soul and with all your might. Lord, help us to defeat the League today. Help us to bring peace to Your people Israel, and all the nations of the Terran Coalition. In Your name we pray, amen.”

  The two of them exchanged glances. “We’re going to need all the help we can get,” David said with a smile.

  “If we don’t have God’s help, nothing else matters.”

  The moment behind him, David turned his focus to the mission clock. Downward it ticked each second. Three hours to go.

  * * *

  Ninety minutes later, Mancini glanced around the bridge on their captured League destroyer. He’d taken to calling it the CSV Stewart, if only mentally. There was something distasteful, even disgusting, about the Leaguer vessel. I can’t place my mind on exactly what, but I feel like I need a shower. Much like everything else in the League of Sol, the ship was utilitarian in the extreme. There was no accounting for crew comfort in any design decision, and places where advanced robotics could’ve helped the human crew avoid risk, the designers apparently didn’t take notice or care.

  Everything was a drab gray color, with black and red being accent colors. The emblem of the League, the clenched fist with a gear around it, was visible in practically every room. It's almost like a reminder that big brother is always watching. Mancini rested his gaze on the communications terminal. “Comms, signal the Tucson we’re moving out. If they don’t hear from the Lion of Judah or us in twenty-four hours, head back to Terran Coalition space at best speed.”

  “Aye aye, sir.”

  “I hate these uniforms,” Calvin grumbled from the seat next to him. The Marine had insisted on spending his time onboard on the bridge to observe what was going on. “I need a bath.”

  Mancini turned his head and laughed. “I just thought that myself, Colonel.”