by Daniel Gibbs
“No, David, I don’t think the CDF is in the business of suicide bombings. But could I see you guys realizing it was going down and not stopping it? Yeah, I could. Once you decide to take human life, I don’t think it’s that hard to break more moral boundaries.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” David said, confidence filling his voice. “We hold tight to those moral boundaries, as you call them, because we know how tempting it is to bend the rules just a little to get something more done. I’d wager that happened on this planet. Someone decided that if they just had a little more power, they could make a bigger difference. As soon as you start down that road, it’s too late. You always need more power, and the rules always seem to hinder you. Before too long, people are being rounded up that don’t think like you, that you don’t like, the ones that are different. They become something less than human, and when they do, killing them isn’t a big deal because they’re sub-human after all. It’s just like putting down an animal. I’ve spent my career walking the line, refusing to give in to the desire to hate the League and kill as many of them as I could. It’s a daily battle that I fight within my spirit, and it’s one that I believe only God helps me win.”
Angie closed her eyes for a moment and looked back up at David. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have made that accusation.” She sighed, shaking her head. “All of that doesn’t change what happened. I have to file a report, and I’m not going to cover this up.”
“I don’t want you to.”
“Then what would you have me do?”
“Interview General Monahan. He’s prepared to take full responsibility for the atrocity. Include that in your report, and also interview the Mother Superior to provide some context to all this.”
Angie narrowed her eyes. “Sounds very close to creating a narrative to me, Colonel.”
“It’s not a narrative; it’s the truth.”
There was a long silence as she closed her eyes and looked upward. David found himself biting his lip, knowing that their hopes for winning over the people of Monrovia, and in some ways the galaxy, depended on her decision. Finally, she opened them back up and glanced at him. “Okay, Colonel. I’ll interview them both and put a story together. But… I will not editorialize. Viewers will have to judge for themselves.”
Breathing an inward sigh of relief, David nodded. “Thank you, Ms. Dinman.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I’ll let Mother Superior know.”
“What’s next for you guys?”
David shrugged. “I think we’ll hit more detention centers, free the prisoners, and keep exposing this government for what it is to the rest of the galaxy. Ultimately, how we do that is up to Mother Superior Sarno.”
“You know, of all the guys I’ve worked with, I figured a macho alpha male like you would have trouble taking orders from a woman.”
“I’m simply conforming myself to the chain of command.” Since when do I come off as overly macho?
“Uh huh. See you later, Colonel,” Angie replied, looking back down at the terminal she was on.
“Good afternoon, then,” David said, turning to go and wondering what the last interaction was all about.
22
Later that afternoon after David had cleaned his battle rifle and personally inspected his power armor, he wandered through the base. He had no interest in being alone with his thoughts in a cramped room. Walking down side streets, he realized that he was just as lonely and not escaping from anything.
“Hey, Colonel!” Calvin called out, leading David to glance around for a few seconds to determine where it came from.
“Head on a swivel, sir. You need more practice at determining where sounds are coming from.”
Locating Calvin, David walked back toward him; Amir appeared to be in tow as well. “What are you guys up to?” he asked.
“Rabbi Kravitz is putting on some big party thing at the God box. He asked us to find you, and I said we’d all attend. Something about the new year.”
It’s Rosh Hashanah, David realized with a start. I’m an Orthodox Jew, and I haven’t even prepared for the new year. His heart sank. “Rosh Hashanah.”
“Do you mind if we join you?” Amir asked. “After today, I could use some time to worship, and I can’t find any other Muslims to do it with.”
David grinned at that. “So the Jewish service is the runner up?”
“Well, I was hoping to avoid the sit, stand, kneel thing at the Catholic mass the sisters are celebrating,” Calvin quipped good-naturedly.
“Care to enlighten me as to what the God box is?” David asked.
“Little bit of TCMC humor. Our nickname for the chapel.”
David laughed. “I’ll see you guys at seven PM local, then.” That was traditionally when the service would start.
“Roger that, Colonel,” Calvin said.
David flashed a smile at them and walked off. He spent the next couple of hours trying to make himself feel useful and ended up moving cargo containers with a group of nuns that were stocking shuttles with emergency supplies to assist starving population centers. An hour before the evening service was to begin, he went back to his temporary quarters and bathed. Then he dressed in appropriate civilian clothing that consisted of a pair of black slacks and a white button-down shirt. He took his kippah, also known as a yarmulke, out of its protective case and put it on his head. The small, dome-like, brimless hat fulfilled the requirement held by Orthodox Jews to cover their heads in the sight of God.
The last item that David retrieved from his space bag was his tallit gadol, the Hebrew name for a prayer shawl. It was contained with a simple cloth carrying bag that his mother had given him many years before as a gift for his bar mitzvah. Clutching it to his side, he made his way the short distance to the administrative building that the old rabbi had designated a large conference room in as his temporary synagogue.
He marveled at how many Jews crammed into the room that they were using. When Calvin had reminded him of the Rosh Hashanah celebration for the new year, he had expected to see a handful of people at most. There were dozens of people, however; men, women, and children. The space had a Star of David set up on a table and two lecterns. A young man stood at one. David surmised he was the cantor.
Calvin and Amir walked into the room together, and David waved them over. Both stood to his right side.
Calvin picked up the Hebrew prayer book that had been left on the chair; every chair in the room had the same book. After flipping through it, he looked at David in bewilderment. “This thing is backward.”
David couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “Jews read from right to left, Cal.”
“Oh. That doesn’t even make sense. It’s natural to read from left to right.”
“Only because you’ve done it that way all your life,” Amir said. “It’s quite natural to read from right to left if you do that instead from childhood. It’s all a matter of perspective.”
Kravitz made his way over to the three men and shook each one’s hand warmly. “Thank you for coming, Colonels. I hope you enjoy our small service today.”
David smiled at the old rabbi. “Thank you for setting this up, Rabbi. To worship together after the trials these people have endured, I know it must be a blessing.”
“In truth, I am the one that is blessed by being in the presence of people of such faith. To cling to it in the face of such danger… they show us true dedication to God.”
“Yes, they do.” Makes me wonder, how far would I go to keep my faith in the face of persecution like they’ve endured?
“I’d better get started. Again, thank you all for coming.” Kravitz turned away and made his way up to the second lectern. After the crowd quieted down, he began to speak. “Thank you all for coming today. I recognize that some of us gathered here are Orthodox, some Conservative, some Reform. I couldn’t put together three separate services, so we will proceed as best as we can. That’s the thing about us Jews. You can’t get rid of us, an
d while we might not agree with each other about much, we unite together when it counts. Please join me in reciting the Shema.”
Kravitz placed his hand over his eyes; this was traditional during the prayer known as the Shema. It was among the most important and well-known of all Jewish prayers. David thought back to his childhood; it had been the first prayer his father taught him. He said it every morning, and every night before he closed his eyes.
David placed his right hand over his eyes, as did everyone else in the room.
“She-ma Yisrael, Adonai eloheinu, Adonai echad,” Kravitz intoned in Hebrew. It meant, “Hear O’Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord is One.”
“Baruch shem kavod malchuto l’olam va-ed,” Kravitz continued. This translated to “Blessed is the name of His glorious kingdom forever and ever.”
Kravitz then switched to English, David assumed this was because only a few of the Jews present appeared to be Orthodox. It would be far easier to hide your beliefs if you weren’t a practicing Orthodox Jew. “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might. Take to heart these instructions with which I charge you this day. Impress them upon your children. Recite them when you stay at home and when you are away, when you lie down and when you get up. Bind them as a sign on your hand and let them serve as a symbol on your forehead, inscribe them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates.”
A tear rolled down David’s cheek as he recited the prayer along with the congregation. There was just something about the prayer, which amounted to a Jew’s statement of faith, that moved his soul in a way he couldn’t put into words.
Traditional prayers around the new year continued for some time in the service, and David recited right along with the congregation in Hebrew. Since being posted to the Lion of Judah, he had the luxury of being able to attend prayers daily given its unique multi-chapel and chaplaincy system. One week, he had even been able to participate in services uninterrupted on the Sabbath. There’s just something about this group of people that is moving. In the middle of being rounded up, persecuted, tortured, and shot for their faith, not only did they keep their ways, they didn’t lose hope. Is that something I could’ve done? Despite the war, those of us in the Terran Coalition are free to believe, free to gather together and worship, and draw inspiration from those around us.
After the prayers and reading of the Torah concluded—each service followed a liturgical script—Kravitz retook the lectern to deliver his sermon. David had heard the old rabbi preach enough times to know that he was a rabbi that preferred to use his sermon to teach a parable that was relatable to the events going on around them. Remembering his Jewish history, he recalled this type of sermon was called a maggid, from the Hebrew word “to relate.”
“Today, we gather to celebrate the new year of 6218. We weep for those who are gone; we pray for those who remain. In times like these, I remember the words of Rabbi Tarfon. He enjoined us that we don’t necessarily have to finish the great work, but nor are we free to ignore it. Each of us acting alone cannot finish the task that has begun to heal our galaxy and restore creation in the image of Adonai. But each of us has something to add, a piece to complete. Let each man and woman here in this congregation do their utmost as we go forward, regardless of ability. We have a duty to Adonai, we have a duty to one another. We must oppose evil in all its forms. We are all destined to someday fall on our knees in front of Adonai and be examined to the core of our soul. On that day, we will be judged. Baruch Atah, Adonai Eloheinu, Melech haolam,” Kravitz said, his last few words in Hebrew; they translated to “Praise to You, Adonai our God, Sovereign of the universe.”
“Some of us oppose the evil that sweeps our galaxy through indirect means. By leading a life dedicated to Adonai, we show the light to the rest of the human race as well as our alien brothers and sisters. Through example, we stand before the rest of the nations. There are also those of us that oppose evil directly. The brave soldiers of the Coalition Defense Force, those here who have taken up arms to defend themselves, their families and friends against the evil of this planet’s government. To those of you who wield the sword, I charge you not to fear your enemy. Do not fear their numbers or their strength. The Lord, our God, will stand with us today, tomorrow, the week after, and the century beyond. If we keep His commandments, humble ourselves, and pray without ceasing, Adonai will answer our prayers.”
“We will now say the Kaddish in honor of those lost. Yoram Moshe will lead us,” Kravitz said.
A teenaged boy, perhaps fifteen years of age, stepped forward and took the lectern. “Exalted and hallowed be His great Name.”
“Amen,” David said, along with the rest of the congregation. Calvin and Amir stumbled along.
“Throughout the world which He has created according to His Will. May He establish His kingship, bring forth His redemption and hasten the coming of his Moshiach.”
“Amen,” David again intoned, along with the rest.
“In your lifetime and in your days and in the lifetime of the entire House of Israel, speedily and soon, and say, Amen.”
“Amen. May His great Name be blessed forever and to all eternity, blessed,” David recited automatically, from many years of practice.
“May His great Name be blessed forever and to all eternity, blessed and praised, glorified, exalted and extolled, honored, adored and lauded be the Name of the Holy One, blessed be He.”
“Amen.”
“Beyond all the blessing, hymns, praises, and consolations that are uttered in the world and say Amen.”
“Amen.”
“May there be abundant peace from heaven, and a good life for us and for all Israel and say Amen.”
“Amen,” David said yet again.
Yoram took three steps back and spoke again while bowing his head to the right, straight ahead, then to the left. “He who makes peace in His heavens, may He make peace for us and for all Israel and say Amen.”
“Amen,” David said. Calvin echoed him loudly.
With that, Yoram walked back to his seat and Kravitz returned to the lectern. “Thank you,” Kravitz said. “I will now release you all; remember that tomorrow, our sunrise service starts bright and early at seven thirty AM. I hope to see as many of you who can come as possible. Shalom!”
David, Calvin, and Amir made their way out of the building and back out into the main square that was adjacent to the building they’d been in. The sun was setting, and its light barely shone. For the first time in several days, David felt refreshed.
“You know, Colonel, I should have just done the Catholic service. Jewish church has more exercise at it than morning PT.” Calvin snickered as he delivered the joke.
David laughed, as did Amir. “You should attend Islamic services then. We must kneel before Allah for a long period. Perhaps it would be more to your liking.”
“I’ll pass. Guess I’m just not cut out for being devout.”
David put his arms around the shoulders of both Calvin and Amir. “Gentlemen, let’s go get some of whatever is passing for food tonight, enjoy each other’s company, and get ready for another day.”
“Now that’s something I can say amen for, provided of course that next day brings dispensing some good old-fashioned butt whoopings to the Monrovians.”
“I’m in,” Amir said.
At that moment, David knew that he was where he was supposed to be, doing what he needed to do, and aided by those who were not only highly capable individuals but also his friends. God is good. They walked off toward the chow hall, and he felt refreshed, all the way down to his toes.
23
The next morning, the Shadow Wolf made her approach to Monrovia. James Henry sat in the captain’s chair, personally overseeing the landing. Compared to military spaceships, the bridge of the ship wasn’t much to look at, but it was functional. More importantly, it was theirs. He glanced over at the tactical station to see Yanik S’srish, his second mate. The big Saurian w
as absorbed in the readouts on his station, while the helmsman, Cera McGinty, sat in the pilot’s seat toward the front of the bridge.
“Lawrence drive readiness, Cera?” Henry asked
“Purrin’ and ready to go, Cap,” McGinty said; she was a short Irishwoman with dark brown hair that hailed from the neutral world of Connaught.
“Activate Lawrence drive, destination…Monrovia.”
“Aye, sir,” McGinty answered in her distinctive Irish accent.
Unlike a large warship, the Lawrence drive on a cargo freighter, especially one like the Shadow Wolf, which was independently owned, didn’t have the benefit of constant upkeep and repair. The ship shuddered as the drive cycled on and struggled to generate the portal between points in the universe that allowed ships to cross vast distances in the blink of an eye. Finally, it triggered, and a swirling wormhole opened in front of the Shadow Wolf, its maw beckoning them in.
Sub-light engines flared, and the cargo ship roared forward into the wormhole. Its transit completed a few seconds later, and Henry patiently waited the few seconds it took before sensors would come back online and tell them where exactly they had ended up.
“Sensors online, Cap,” McGinty said. “Monrovia is less than eight hundred kilometers off our port bow. Transit successful!”
That was more than a little bit closer than he’d like to cut it; if the ship had exited the wormhole inside of the planet, it would have catastrophic effects, the least of which would have been their immediate deaths. “Do we have the landing beacon?”
“Yes, sir, beacon locked on,” S’srish said. “Roughly one-half orbit from our current location.”
“Cera, take us in. Maximum thrust.”
“Aye aye, Cap!”
After a few seconds, S’srish turned to look at Henry. “Captain, I’m reading a cluster of five League of Sol Type-D cargo ships. They appear to be making for Monrovia’s main port.”
Henry raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Scan them. Can you tell what they’re carrying?”
