by Daniel Gibbs
“Munitions, space superiority fighters of the latest League types, armored vehicles, weapons.”
“So, the League is supplying the Monrovians and assisting them in their quest to kill off the evil believers,” a voice called from the back of the bridge. It belonged to Felix Rothbard, another former member of the Coalition Defense Force and an old friend of Henry's.
“It would appear that way,” Henry said. “It’s possible it’s just another run-of-the-mill arms shipment to a third party.”
“Yeah, and I’m the Pope,” Rothbard replied.
“Do you wish to engage, Captain?” S’srish asked.
“We’re in a position to do more than just drop off some cargo here,” Rothbard mused from his position in the rear of the bridge. “Might feel nice for a change.”
Henry snorted with amusement at that. "Because they're not mad enough at us already, huh?"
Felix shrugged. "They already want us dead. We might as well return the favor."
“Yanik, is the Monrovian defense grid operational?” Henry asked.
“Negative, Captain. It appears to be offline, and none of the satellites are activated.”
“The guy who hired us did say that the Lion of Judah had disabled their planetary defense capabilities,” Rothbard said.
“Damnit, Felix, we should just drop our cargo and get out of here.”
“You’ve seen the same news reports I have, Jim. If the League succeeds in getting advanced weapons onto Monrovia, it’ll be a blood bath. We can help here,” Rothbard insisted stubbornly.
He's right. I don't want to see that happen either. Henry sighed to himself. Here I am, supposed to be looking out for my crew and me only, and I'm ready to play the heroic CDF officer once again. “Yanik,” Henry began. “Are those cargo ships within range of our special package?” He spoke knowing it would be the only weapon he had available with the range needed to hit the enemy.
Yanik checked his instruments. “Affirmative, Captain.”
“Very well. Charge the ventral neutron cannon, open the outer doors.”
“Yes, Captain.”
One of the many upgrades to the Shadow Wolf was a large neutron cannon that was mounted spinally between the holds to face the bow. Ordinarily, it was hidden under deck plating to disguise its profile, but with a flip of a switch, the plating shifted away to reveal the barrel of the cannon. With the ship's hidden fusion drives to provide extra power, it offered a deadly first strike weapon and allowed the vessel to punch above its weight class.
“Target the nearest League cargo ship, Yanik.”
“I have a firing solution, Captain.”
“Shoot.”
White-hot blue energy shot out of the neutron cannon, flying across space at the speed of light and impacting against the shields of the unlucky League cargo freighter. In less than a second, those shields failed, and the full force of the beam smacked against the ship’s hull. Searing through the engine housings and punching through the reactor spaces at the rear of the vessel, the hapless freighter exploded in a mass of fire, leaving small debris as the only evidence it ever existed in the first place.
“Enemy ship destroyed, Captain,” S’srish reported calmly.
“Target the next freighter.”
“Firing solution locked into the computer, Captain.”
“Shoot,” Henry said, leaning forward in his chair.
Again, the Shadow Wolf fired her primary armament, this time slicing through the exhaust manifolds of the freighter targeted, out the other side and by blind luck hitting a third League ship in the long neck of the vessel that connected the cargo pods together. The force of the beam severed the reinforced superstructure of the freighter, and the aft portion began to spin away, out of control. Meanwhile, the first target lost engine power and started to enter Monrovia’s atmospheric at an angle that would cause it to burn up during reentry.
“Two more targets down, Captain,” S’srish reported; Henry was able to view the destruction on his console.
“Nice shooting, Yanik. Target the next ship.”
S’srish glanced back at Henry. “I’m sorry, Captain, but the League ships have increased velocity and entered the planet’s atmosphere. Our neutron cannon will attenuate in the upper atmosphere and fail to cause sufficient damage unless we close our range substantially.”
“We’ve got the engine power to catch up, Captain,” Rothbard interjected. “Let’s light off our fusion drives and run them down.”
“No,” Henry said, firmly making up his mind. “We’ve got no idea what they have in terms of defenses or what’s waiting for us. Cera, full power dive, take us to the landing pad. We’re dropping our cargo and getting the hell out of here.” Now the League's probably going to send cruisers after us. Maybe I can wring enough extra credits out of Kenneth to pay for resetting our global IFF transponder.
“Aye aye, Cap,” McGinty responded as the ship pitched down, increasing its forward speed and pushing everyone into their chairs.
David strode across the deep black paved surface of the cargo ramp that abutted the flight line on the Monrovian National Guard base they had occupied. Shuttles lined the apron with heavy loaders moving about the area carrying shipping containers full of food, medicine, and munitions that were being unloaded from a boxy, squat spaceship parked on the nearest taxiway.
The name Shadow Wolf was etched into the side of the ship, and a gangway went from the bottom of the vessel, connecting the open hold to the ground. As David walked, he saw the hatch at the top of the gangway open, and a tall man of some African ancestry walk out. The man made his way down the gangway, and David called out toward him. “Ahoy there! Is Captain James Henry aboard?” Kenneth had sent him a note detailing the ship and its captain; David wanted to meet the man and shake his hand.
As the man got to the bottom of the gangway, he stared at David. “Well, I was. Now I’m talking to you. And you are?”
“Colonel David Cohen, Coalition Defense Force,” David replied, extending his hand toward Henry.
Henry politely shook the outstretched hand. “Intelligence put you up to this?”
David shook his head. “No… I’m doing this against orders.”
“Seriously?” Henry replied, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “I find it difficult to believe that the commanding officer of the Lion of Judah would do anything not approved in triplicate by brass.”
“Don’t judge a book by its cover, Captain. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have much to do with you.”
Henry's expression went solid, emotionless. “You looked at my file?”
“Yeah,” David said while shrugging his shoulders. “Your resignation wasn’t exactly clean. Dishonorable discharge after a guilty plea for dereliction of duty and almost blowing up your ship?”
The solid look remained, but there was no denying an old anger in those brown eyes. "That's what I pled to, yeah," he said in a controlled tone. "Maybe I'd have gotten a better deal if I'd had your connections with the brass."
“I didn’t get my post due to connections. I got it because I was in the right place at the right time and did the right things. Or, the wrong place at the wrong time, depending on your point of view,” David replied, his voice tight and face turning red.
Nothing changed the neutral expression on Henry's face. His eyes did focus more upon David's, as if to read his expression in turn. “What’s your point of view, Colonel?”
“My point of view is that I stopped the League from killing a lot of civilians, avoided a court-martial for taking the only tactical action that could result in victory, and was offered a chance to do something more. I shake in my boots every time I consider the incredible power I have under my command, and I shiver for the thought of what could happen if I make a single poor judgment call. I don’t begin to know what you went through or what’s led you to where you are now, but I assure you, I don’t operate on connections and I despise those who do.”
Henry stood mute for a moment, ma
king David think that he was taking his measure. “I won’t lie to you, Colonel. I don’t get all wild-eyed and happy when I see the CDF coming these days. But you seem all right. I’m glad I could help here. It paid well too,” Henry said as he smirked a bit. “There is something you should know. On our way in, we took down a few League transport ships. Type-Ds.”
Oh, snap. Just what we need…covert or overt, for that matter, League support of the Monrovian government. “Any idea what they had in them?”
“My scans showed weapons, ammunition, planes, and tanks. We got three out of five.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, how’d you pull that off flying what appears to be a cargo ship yourself?”
Henry just smiled in return. “Trade secret, Colonel.”
“Need anything from us while you’re here, Captain?”
“We’re good. As soon as the teams from the Little Sisters complete offloading the cargo, we’re out of here.”
“I don’t suppose I could convince you to stay and offer some fire support? A starship providing overwatch would be, well, quite welcome,” David asked.
“No can do, Colonel. I’ve got a schedule to meet and customers to satisfy. I’m sure you understand. This is a job. Besides, I just blew up three of their ships, and you've got your big battlewagon in the area. The League's going to respond at some point.”
David smiled. “If it were just a job, you wouldn’t have blasted those Type-Ds out of space.”
“I’m sure I’ll get a handsome reward for that too,” Henry replied lightly.
“Regardless, thanks for evening up the score a little bit.”
“You’re welcome. If you’ll excuse me, Colonel, I need to go see my second mate and check on what’s taking so long.”
“Of course,” David said, standing aside. Watching Henry’s back as he walked across the ramp, he couldn’t help but wonder what could so upset the apple cart of a man’s conscience that he no longer seemingly had interest in fighting the League except when it generated money. Perhaps I can get to know Captain Henry better someday. Somehow, I don’t believe he’s a bad guy. Certainly not in the way his personnel record would make it seem.
From her desk within the Monrovian government complex, Fitzroy considered the events of the last few days. These damn religious zealots have made a mess out of things. They’ve wiped out millions of credits in military hardware, killed a few dozen pilots, but surprisingly few on the ground. Undoubtedly for propaganda purposes. It didn’t help that the traitor took responsibility for the suicide bombing. That line of attack worked well in the instant reaction news ratings. Still, the situation is out of hand. We need some more help. Steeling herself, she pressed the intercom button on the communication link built into her desk. “Sefton, are you there?”
“Yes, Prime Minister,” Sefton Garner, her assistant, replied in an eager voice.
“Get me the League’s ambassador; tell him it’s an emergency.”
“Right away, ma’am,” Garner said.
The link blinked off. Fitzroy sat quietly, hoping that the League ambassador would take her call. They didn’t like screw-ups. Her vidlink window sprang to life with the image of Wen Chong, a striking woman clearly of Asian descent with long black hair.
“Ambassador Chong, thank you for taking the time to speak with me.”
“Anytime, Prime Minister. The League of Sol is always there with a hand of friendship to our fellow human brothers and sisters.”
“I won’t insult your intelligence, Ambassador. We’re not doing so well against these religious fanatics that have invaded our planet.”
“Let me be equally frank then, Prime Minister. From the League’s perspective, you have bungled this operation from the beginning. We provided you with a method for purging your planet of reactionary influences. You chose to try to be gentle… see what it got you? The only way to deal with enemies of the state is through absolute force. Our own experiences have proven that time and again.”
Colleen pursed her lips together. “Regardless of that, our government is in real danger of collapse. Our military can’t fight on anything like equal terms due to the technology gap. We need reinforcements, and we need access to the latest League technology. Advisors who could show us how to use it would be useful.”
“I hear a lot of needs… but what’s in it for the League?” Chong asked with a deliciously wicked smile.
For all the talk about human harmony, they still want their pound of flesh. “We will speed up the integration of our society to join the League within three months. I’m sure a safe port of call this deep within neutral space so close to the Terran Coalition will be useful.”
“Now that’s an excellent example of human cooperation in the face of adversity, Prime Minister. It just so happens that we anticipated needing to help our friends on Monrovia. The cargo ships of ours that were attacked yesterday contained a lot of technology to help even the gap. Despite losing a few of them, we’ll make advanced space superiority fighters, ground attack vehicles, and weapons available to your armed forces. There are also League military advisors to assist in their use. Don’t worry; we’re preparing another shipment and will be resupplying you as much as you need.”
Fitzroy closed her eyes, inwardly breathing a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Ambassador. Thank you so much. We’ll put your tools to great use.”
“I’m certain you will, Prime Minister. Failure is not something that is well tolerated by the state.”
“We will not fail again, Ambassador. You have my word.”
“Good. Then I bid you good day. Our military attaché will be contacting you shortly to arrange for the transfer of hardware.”
“Thank you again,” Fitzroy said before disengaging the vidlink. Okay, now we have to deliver. She leaned back in her chair and took a moment before getting to work.
24
Far away from Monrovia, back on the Lion of Judah, Kenneth Lowe was catching up on reports in his office. One of the seeming constants of the universe, there was always another monthly or weekly status report due. Lately, a new government civilian overseeing the group of projects he managed, all centered around technology increment upgrades to the Lion’s systems, had been making his life difficult with even more reporting requirements. Noticing a message from her on his tablet, he switched programs and pulled it up.
Mr. Lowe,
I have attached a new daily reporting form for all personnel and projects under your purview. Please ensure that starting tomorrow I receive a daily report no later than 1800 hours CMT.
– Sabrina Backman, CDF Special Projects
“Ugh,” Kenneth said out loud, though no one was in the room with him. Shaking his head, he began to type out a message to his leads, instructing them to pass down the directive. We’ll end up wasting an hour a day on this crap, per person, reducing our effectiveness. I ought to talk to Colonel Cohen about it. No… better to save that bullet for when it’s needed.
A blinking vidlink request interrupted Kenneth’s writing; checking the sender, he quickly touched “answer” when he noticed it was from James Henry. A moment later, the cargo captain’s smiling face filled the screen of the tablet.
“Kenneth, my friend. How’re you doing?”
“Oh, I’m okay. Dealing with the usual CDF paperwork and administrative bull crap. You’re in unusually good spirits. Succeeded in dodging the Monrovians?”
“Not entirely. We delivered the supplies and took out three League Type-D cargo transports. Two got through, but that ought to help out your friends.”
Kenneth’s eye’s opened wide. “League forces were there?”
“No combat ships, just the cargo carriers. A covert operation, judging by the lack of escorting warships. They had war material on them… same idea we had. That will, of course, cost you extra.”
“Oh, come on,” Kenneth said in an exasperated tone. “You guys already made a mint off this.”
“And some members of my crew aren’t happy we to
rched League ships. I keep everyone happy by making sure they’re well paid. Consider it a tip for a job well done.”
“I’ll see what I can do, James.”
“Good… maybe I can finally get my shields upgraded again since we keep getting shot up. I thought I’d left that life behind,” Henry said with a chuckle.
“Any thoughts on another drop?”
“Not happening.”
“They may need more supplies.”
“Then find someone else, because I just engaged League ships in combat, and I’m going to have to go have my IFF transponder cleaned. I’m not taking that risk again. I don’t work for CDF intelligence.”
“Neither do I.”
“Yeah, but we’re both doing their dirty work right now. Besides, this entire operation’s gone sideways with that stupid terrorist attack. There’s a reason we don’t get involved in other people’s wars. They’re messy. Very messy.”
“Still the right thing to do,” Kenneth said; he’d seen the news too and watched it with disgust. At least General Monahan has publicly accepted responsibility. That’s taken the external heat off the Little Sisters. Maybe it’s enough for David and the rest of them to prevail.
“Comm time isn’t cheap, Kenneth. I’ll see you around the galaxy. Shadow Wolf out.”
“Take care, James,” Kenneth replied as the vidlink cut out. Well, at least that’s done. I hope Colonel Cohen’s doing okay out there. And these stupid reports aren’t going to do themselves.
David stared out and around the parade ground that had been taken over by the nuns. Thousands of them, many in traditional black robes with white habits, others in gleaming white battle armor, stood in neat rows as far as he could see.
Positioned toward the back, David, Calvin, Amir, and Tural had gathered together; they had all been summoned by Mother Superior Sarno before combat operations were to begin for the day.
“I guess we’re going to do another big push,” Calvin said.
