by Daniel Gibbs
Strong and Courageous
Echoes of War Book 2
Daniel Gibbs
Contents
CSV Lion of Judah Blueprints
Free Echoes of War Book
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Acknowledgments
Strong and Courageous by Daniel Gibbs
Copyright © 2019 by Daniel Gibbs
Visit Daniel Gibb’s website at www.danielgibbsauthor.net
Cover by Jeff Brown Graphics—www.jeffbrowngraphics.com
Additional Illustrations by Joel Steudler—www.joelsteudler.com
Editing by Edits by V and Beth at BZhercules.com
3D Art by Benoit Leonard
This book is a work of fiction, the characters, incidents and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. For permissions please contact [email protected].
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1
September 8th, 2460
CSV Lion of Judah
League/Terran Coalition Front Lines
Colonel David Cohen, commanding officer of the CSV Lion of Judah, tugged on his uniform sweater and let out a yawn. I guess all these mornings getting up 0430 are catching up with me. Rapidly closing in on forty years of age, the thirty-eight-year-old man stopped long enough to look in the mirror to make sure his uniform met Coalition Defense Force grooming standards. David preferred the pullover sweater while in space. Most ship crews did because it was naturally colder than average on a massive warship flying through the dark vacuum. David had his regular staff meeting at 0700 Coalition Mean Time every morning, and as per his usual morning ritual, he had already eaten a small breakfast and had visited the shul for morning prayers.
Balancing his duties as the commanding officer of the Lion with his responsibilities as a devout practicing Jew was sometimes tricky. David made every effort to meet both requirements. After confirming that his rank insignia, Space Warfare Officer badge, and nametag were all in the proper places, he walked out of his cabin. During the walk up to the command deck and through the labyrinth of passages that crisscrossed the Lion, his mind wandered. Since the Saurian Empire had joined the fight on the side of the Terran Coalition, the entire landscape of the conflict had changed. Under the banner of the Canaan Alliance, the Allied Expeditionary Force—consisting of the Coalition Defense Force and the Royal Saurian Navy—steadily pushed the League back. It feels satisfying to be winning again.
As he came off the grav-lift on the command deck, the Terran Coalition Marine Corps sentries that stood watch outside of the bridge/combat information center on the Lion saluted David. He acknowledged their salute with one of his own before walking into the conference room where the command staff had assembled. While he was ten minutes early, most of the command staff had already taken their seats.
David smiled inwardly as the mantra his father used to cite—“Early is on time; on time is late. Never be late.”—ran through his head.
All present stood and came to attention. “As you were,” David responded, acknowledging the respect shown.
First Lieutenant Ruth Goldberg, a short, petite woman in her late twenties, was the first to reply. Ruth was the Lion’s Tactical Action Officer; with David’s guidance, she fought the ship in combat. “Good night’s rest, sir?”
David grinned. “I find that when we’re pressing the League out of our space, it’s a lot easier to sleep at night.”
Calvin Demood—a lieutenant colonel in the Terran Coalition Marine Corps and the commander of the Lion’s Marine Expeditionary Unit—gave a belly laugh. “Who needs sleep when we’re pasting League ships all over the place? As far as I’m concerned, this will never get old.”
David smirked; he had grown to like the tough Marine. His no-nonsense way of looking at the universe was refreshing. The one thing he couldn’t entirely agree with was Calvin’s seeming desire to kill every last Leaguer. “The only good Leaguer is a dead Leaguer,” he’d said more than once. Regardless of that, David had the utmost respect for Calvin’s abilities. Over and over again, his Marines had proven themselves in battle. He was sure that was in large part due to older Marine’s leadership and tactical abilities.
Master Chief Rebecca Tinetariro was also present; she was the senior enlisted soldier on the Lion of Judah. A twenty-seven-year veteran of the CDF, Tinetariro hailed from the African Union and was tall for a woman at nearly six feet. She was an imposing figure with a strong command presence. David had developed a great deal of respect for her in the past eight weeks since her assignment to the Lion. “Good morning, sir,” she said to him in her posh British accent.
“And a good morning to you as well, Master Chief,” David replied. “How’s that gospel choir going?”
Tinetariro smiled; there was something about the way she smiled that would have made David’s blood run cold had he been under her command. “Getting there, sir. Would have been nice if that spiffy Marine Corps band had stayed onboard.”
“I liked them too. Flag ceremony with a live band was special.”
David took his seat at the head of the table; First Lieutenant Shelly Hammond, the Lion’s senior navigator, and First Lieutenant Robert Taylor, the communications officer, were present and seated. Both of them were quiet and reserved, rarely speaking in a staff meeting unless spoken to first. Major Arthur Hanson, the Lion’s chief engineer, was also present and sat to his right hand. An outgoing nerd, Hanson had worked on a reactor design team for a new generation of fusion reactors deployed to the latest breed of CDF destroyer before serving with David, first on the Yitzhak Rabin, and now on the Lion.
Kenneth Lowe, the lone civilian in the room, sat to his left at the table. David made eye contact with the lanky defense contractor and received a respectful head nod in return. Kenneth and his small army of technical support contractors had been instrumental in keeping the Lion in fighting shape over the last eight weeks. Without their help, it was unlikely the newly trained military crew would have been able to keep all of the new technology, gizmos, and gadgets operational.
Right on cue, Lieutenant Colonel Talgat Aibek entered the room. The jovial Saurian had grown on David. Aibek’s humor
was so dry it could burn, but the Saurian was a valuable member of the team who had stepped into the executive officer role with gusto. Serving as his right hand onboard the Lion, Aibek kept the ship’s departments and personnel running.
But every time Aibek walked into the room, it was a bitter reminder of Sheila Thompson’s death. The emotional pain from Sheila’s death, while faded due to what David believed was a vision from God, was still there. They had known each other for nearly twenty years; knowing he would never see her again, speak with her again, or embrace her again weighed heavily on him. Coupled with his belatedly realized feelings of love for her, there were days when the abyss of depression and despair gnawed at him, tempting him to fall into it. That abyss was an ever-constant companion, one he actively had to fight off.
“Good morning, Colonel Cohen!” Aibek’s booming voice said, carrying across the room.
“Banker’s hours, Colonel Aibek?” David asked playfully, but with a slight edge. He hated his officers being late to meetings.
“I got carried away in my morning exercise routine,” Aibek responded, chastened. Making his way around the table, Aibek sat down next to Doctor Izmet Tural, the Lion’s chief medical officer.
The last arrivals filled the remaining two chairs at the conference table. Hassan Amir, the air wing commander onboard the Lion, also known as the CAG, an old military term that stood for Commander Air Group, which had survived the ages, and Major Elizabeth Merriweather, the engineer in charge of the military personnel attached to the advanced reactor program that powered the Lion’s antimatter reactor.
“Let’s get started, people,” David said, and turned to Aibek. “Ship’s readiness, XO?”
“Shipshape in Bristol fashion, sir.”
Ruth cleared her throat. “Colonel, with respect, you’re not British, sir.” It had become normal for her to be a bit more sarcastic in meetings.
David broke into a grin. “So we’re in mint condition, eh?”
“Yes, sir,” Aibek said with a grin in return.
“Colonel Amir, status of the fighter wing?”
“We have fourteen squadrons at maximum readiness, Colonel. I’ve put two squadrons that took significant losses in our last few engagements into reserve status until we receive replacement pilots,” Amir said.
“Very good. The last few weeks have almost been too easy.”
“Lanchester’s Law, sir,” Hammond interjected, drawing looks from some of the staff.
Aibek peered at her. “What is that, Lieutenant?”
“It’s a set of differential equations that determine firepower and combat effectiveness between military forces, sir. One of the postulations is that a larger force will defeat a smaller force with fewer losses than between an even force. Given that we’ve been hitting the League with locally superior forces due to the alliance… it makes sense that we’re taking fewer losses while hammering the League fleet.”
“I didn’t realize you studied military history, Lieutenant. Impressive and correct,” David said in what he hoped was an encouraging manner.
He punched a button, bringing up a holographic representation of local space displayed in the middle of the conference table. “If you will note the front-line designations, our orders are to support the push forward by Admiral Resit Kartal. The fighting will be sustained and heavy as we attempt to dislodge a major League force consisting of multiple carrier battle groups and large capital ship formations. If we can punch through here, however….it will be clear sailing. At least, according to CDF Intelligence.”
“CDF Intelligence. Now there’s an oxymoron if I’ve ever heard one,” Hanson said. “Whatever they say is usually wrong.”
Multiple chuckles and snickers sounded around the room; they generally held intelligence services of any stripe in various states of disrepute. Out on the sharp tip of the spear, bad intel gets people killed.
The intercom suddenly interrupted the meeting. “Bridge to Colonel Cohen. This is the command duty officer.”
David recognized the voice of a young first lieutenant who had drawn watch duty as CDO. “Go ahead, Lieutenant Jackson.”
“Sir, we’re receiving a high-level encrypted flash communication from the CSV Oxford. It’s addressed to you, sir. Shall I put it through to the conference room?”
“Pipe it in, Lieutenant.”
A moment later, the face of Colonel Robert Sinclair, the CO of the security operations monitoring center onboard the Oxford, a CDF “technical support” ship, which in reality was a spy ship, appeared on the holographic viewer.
“Colonel Sinclair, how’s spookville today?” David asked. They had been working closely with the Oxford and Colonel Sinclair over the past few weeks; David had built a rapport with him and found the Oxford’s operations impressive.
“Quite well, Colonel Cohen,” Sinclair said in his posh British accent, bearing a grin. “I’ve got something that might interest you and your officers. We have a vector bearing and location on the LX Tours and her battlegroup. They’re currently effecting repairs after the last engagement they had with CDF and RSN forces that didn’t go their way. As the closest combat-effective force, Admiral Kartal wants you to hit them hard and fast.”
The assembled officers exchanged looks while David felt his battle spirit stir. The Tours was a League fleet carrier; she had over four hundred fighters onboard and was a dangerous opponent. To be able to catch her and her consorts with their pants down… he could scarcely believe their luck.
“Any idea how long she’s going to be parked in her current location, Colonel?”
“Not with any real confidence. We’re sure they’ve been at their current coordinates for at least an hour. Since we’re not sure what shape the carrier is in, Admiral Kartal is requesting immediate engagement by friendly forces. How long for the Lion and her battlegroup to transit in?”
David glanced at Aibek. “Are we ready to engage, XO?”
Aibek’s head bobbed up and down. “Yes, sir. Our battlegroup is at maximum readiness.”
“Call it thirty minutes to ensure our escorts are ready to jump, get our flight wing on ready five status, and prep for action. Tell Admiral Kartal we’ll engage the enemy within the next thirty-five minutes, Colonel.”
“Understood, Colonel Cohen. Good luck, good hunting, and Godspeed. Oxford out.”
David sat back in his chair, looking around at his senior staff. “Well, that wasn’t quite how I was expecting today to start, ladies and gentlemen.”
Kenneth piped up. “I think I can speak for everyone and say it will be nice to paste a League carrier.” Kenneth smiled brightly after he finished speaking.
A few of the officers chuckled, as did David. Calvin, however, couldn’t resist the chance to tease the contractor. “Hey, if you ever want a real job, Kenneth…I’ll get you started in boot camp any time. Then you can do more than talk about kicking the League’s ass and actually do it.”
There was again a smattering of laughter as Kenneth interjected his retort. “Colonel, let me know when you retire. I’ll get you set up in something you can do from your assisted living facility.”
“Ouch!” David roared while laughing out loud along with the rest of the team.
“What is it with these smart-ass comms geeks on this ship?” Calvin said in his faux annoyed tone. “Well, Kenneth, you may be a smart ass, but at least your partner in crime, Lieutenant Taylor, can throw a punch. And use pugil sticks. Until you can, stow it.”
“I think you hit a nerve, Kenneth,” Ruth said with a wicked grin on her face.
David pushed back his chair and stood. “Okay, people, that’s enough. We’ve got thirty-five minutes to get this ship ready for action. Bridge team, follow me. Everyone else…you know your duty. Get to it. Dismissed.”
There was a smattering of “Yes, sir,” and “Aye aye, sir,” as the officers stood and walked out; David waited until everyone else had left before following them out the door. This would be the third engagement this week; the height
ened battle rhythm was ordinarily a challenge for the crew. They had been going all out for the last eight weeks, and to David’s surprise, there had been no requests for R&R or time off. From his vantage point, the entire ship functioned like a well-oiled machine that had one goal: driving the League of Sol from their space. Still, at some point, human beings simply got tired. David worried that when that point came, if it came at the wrong time, there would be a reckoning.
Lost in his thoughts for a moment, when David exited the conference room, the corridor was empty except for the two Marine guards standing watch in front of the bridge/combat information center hatch. David strode to the door as the Marines smartly saluted him.
“Gentlemen,” David said as an acknowledgment, pulling his cover—what the military called a hat—on as he walked through the hatch onto the bridge of the Lion of Judah. It was such an impressive sight to him, one that never got old. Nearly thirty officers and crew manned the cavernous bridge, coupled with a full Combat Information Center. Most of the weapons and systems were automated, but there were still massive amounts of information to sift through quickly so that watch-standing officers would be able to make informed and proper decisions, especially in the heat of combat.
A moment after David entered the bridge, the familiar voice of Master Chief Tinetariro announced, “Commanding officer on the bridge!”
