Keep the Faith

by Daniel Gibbs

  Ruth smirked. “I got the distinct impression you didn’t care for young minds, Doctor.”

  “After a few years being off the lecture circuit and stationed in deep space, it’s amazing what grows on you.”

  “Back to business,” David said. “Where are we at on New Rostov?”

  Calvin leaned forward. “Very quiet, sir. A couple of diehard anti-Terran terrorists staged an attack last night but didn’t cause any casualties. I’m ready to declare the planet pacified.”

  “Interesting euphemism, Colonel,” Tural said. “By Allah, each of these so-called ‘outer worlds’ we invade is worse than the last.”

  “Explain, Doctor?”

  “The inhabitants work a series of mines, Colonel Cohen. Those mines contain high levels of radiation and radon gas. They lack proper projective equipment and have strict quotas. The ore is used to create fuel for League military vessels.”

  “Leaguers say Earth is a paradise, and their core planets aren’t too far from it.”

  “I cannot say, sir. What I can say is this place resembles hell, more than anything. I’d like to 3D print as many medical supplies as we can to send down, along with a team of doctors.”

  “Isn’t Doctors without Planets onsite?”

  “Yes… but they suffer from the same problems as the rest of the NGOs. Never enough funds.”

  David thought back to the fury it had raised within some quarters of the Terran Coalition that relief organizations were soliciting donations to help League citizens. The state of our political discourse has grown quite shrill. Maybe I pay attention to it more now. “The saddest thing to me is looking into another person’s eyes and seeing a complete lack of hope. A void expression where they don’t care anymore.”

  “Sounds like most on Rostov,” Tural said. “Missionaries are arriving soon, I understand from talking to the Imam heading up efforts for the Allu Akbar Relief Society.”

  I’m not entirely sure what I think about that. Must be the Jew in me. We don’t recruit. “At least they’re providing some help. Hanson, how do you feel about a quick seventeen jumps back to Canaan?”

  Hanson made a face, wrinkling his nose. “You know my thoughts on back to back Lawrence drive jumps, sir. How long do we have to complete the transit?”

  “I want to be home in seventy-two hours. That should give you enough time to have a two- to three-hour stand-down between each. Acceptable?”

  “Of course, sir.”

  “Excellent. Prepare to withdraw our Marines as soon as it’s practical, Colonel Demood. I want us underway by 1800.”

  “Aye aye, sir,” Calvin answered.

  “Anything else before we adjourn?” David asked the room.

  “One thing, sir,” Colonel Hassan Amir, the Lion’s CAG—Carrier Air Group, Commander—said. “Replacement pilots? I’m down nineteen.”

  The ever-present reminder of the cost of war. How easy it is to forget. “I’ll put up another request up the chain to CDFPER, Amir.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “If there’s nothing more… dismissed.” David stood as he finished speaking.

  The rest of the team sprang out of their chairs and exited the room, heading off, he was sure, to handle their respective duties. I wonder how Kenneth Lowe and his merry band are doing. I should drop him a fleetlink and see what they’re up. I can’t believe this, but I miss those contractors.

  After a moment, David walked out of the conference room and made his way to his day cabin. Mountains of digital paperwork awaited.

  Angela Dinman found herself staring like a child at the massive shuttles touching down, quickly disgorging their human cargo and flying back into the sky. She had used her press pass to get into the area of the base where orbiting crews came back to Canaan—known as Fleet Landing. There were hundreds of civilians present; almost exclusively family members, it seemed to her. Pregnant wives, proud husbands, entire multi-generational families were holding signs up to welcome home loved ones.

  Since I’m not his wife yet, I had to sneak in. Yet? Whoa, careful, Angie. Yet? You’re the one that never wanted to get married. As she scolded herself mentally, the shuttle she’d been waiting for touched down. A sea of CDF personnel in crisp white uniforms spilled out, and it didn’t take her long to see David. With him being a little over two meters tall, he stuck out in a crowd.

  Angie held up a small poster made of a thin, lightweight material that was programmable with different images. She’d made a simple drawing that said “Welcome Home, David” on it. It had the desired effect; he saw it and quickly walked over, a huge grin plastered on his face.

  The two of them embraced, though she didn’t kiss him. So many religious rules he has to follow. By extension, so do I. “Hey, stranger. Home a bit early, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah. Something like that,” David said, the grin not fading in the slightest. “Glad I am, though. If for no other reason than to see you.”

  “Aww. Here for more than a couple of days?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t talk about it.”

  “You realize, as a reporter, I’m good at ferreting out secrets.”

  “Oh, I don’t doubt your abilities. You’re welcome to test them out over dinner tonight.”

  Angie laughed. “Sounds like a plan to me. What are your plans for the rest of the afternoon?”

  “Well, I was thinking about getting a helicar back to my apartment, handling some errands, and checking in on my mother.”

  “Want a lift in mine instead?”

  David grinned again. “You mean GNN’s helicar?”

  “It’s mine,” Angie insisted.

  “No, it’s theirs. You get to use it. And I love the idea that it’s being used to ferry around the military. It’s the least GNN can do.”

  Angie rolled her eyes at him. “You’re incorrigible. You realize that, right?”

  “Guilty as charged.”

  “Let’s go before I change my mind.”

  She felt a tinge of excitement as he took her hand into his, and they walked off together.

  6

  David had turned in early after dinner with Angie the night before. Rising at 0430, he did his usual morning routine. First, he recited the Shema, then exercise, shower, and finally, a hearty breakfast. Walking into the Canaan main governmental complex, he pondered the rote nature of his existence. I do the same thing every single morning. One of these days, I need to change it up and do something different. The thought brought a grin to his face as he walked through a full-body scanner before confirming his retinal print for access.

  Aibek, Doctor Tural, Calvin, and Taylor were close behind him through the scanners.

  “I do not understand the importance humans place on controlling who comes and goes,” Aibek said.

  David grinned. “For one, not every human is armed at all times.”

  “That does not make sense to me either. How do you know you will be able to defend yourselves?”

  “Typically, we don’t worry about random attacks in public,” Tural said as he completed his scan. “Most Terran Coalition planets are safe.”

  Aibek raised a scale over his eye. “One never knows when an enemy will strike.”

  “That’s why the Marines exist,” Calvin interjected. “Hoorah!”

  “Colonel, you are a walking, talking recruiting poster,” Taylor called out from within the scanning booth. “Seriously, you should take that act on the road. You’re like Captain Terra or something.”

  “Captain Terra?” David asked, both eyebrows raised. “What’s that?”

  “Holocomics, sir.”

  David smirked. “Right. Nerd patrol. Let’s go, gents. I’m not interested in being late.”

  “I wonder if Kenneth works in this building. He said he was back on Canaan a while ago,” Calvin said, glancing around.

  Observing a holographic projector that gave instructions for walking to different sections of the building, David did a double-take. “Did I hear right, the great en
emy of nerds everywhere, Colonel Demood, has a spare thought for a defense contractor?”

  “Hey now, he was okay… for a slimy defense contractor anyways.”

  “Yeah, he was,” David said with a sigh. “Kind of miss him. I feel like more stuff breaks without his team around. Okay, I think I know where we’re going.”

  David set off down a corridor, the rest of them following close behind. After fifteen minutes of navigating countless hallways, a few cubicle farms, and tightly packed offices, they found the executive conference rooms. What immediately struck him as odd was the presence of numerous plainclothes protection agents, easily identifiable due to the earpieces and specialized weapons they carried. Must be some big-time brass in attendance for this briefing.

  After being checked—again—by the security detail, they walked into an expansive room with a mahogany conference table and a couple of dozen chairs. David stiffened and brought himself to attention as soon as he saw President Spencer seated next to MacIntosh and a few civilians he didn’t recognize.

  “At ease, Colonel Cohen,” Spencer said, standing and extending his arm out.

  David quickly closed the distance and shook the president’s hand warmly. “Good to see you, sir.”

  “Likewise. Andrew tells me the Lion of Judah has been cutting through League-held planets like a hot knife through butter.”

  “Just doing our job, sir. The Lion has an incredible team of talented officers, enlisted personnel, and a few civilians to keep it running in top shape.”

  “Keep up the good work in that case, Colonel.”

  David flashed a smile as Spencer moved off, taking the cue to sit down. He noted the seat next to MacIntosh was empty. I suppose it’s somewhat presumptuous to sit next to a four-star, but… stranger in a strange land and all that.

  “Moving up in the world or something, Colonel?” MacIntosh whispered as David pulled the chair out next to him.

  “No, sir. Just wanted to be next to a friendly face.”

  MacIntosh snickered. “Cute. Sorry to pull you back from the front lines. This is worth our time, I assure you.”

  “Is there anything you don’t know about, sir?”

  “Besides what the pearly gates look like, no,” MacIntosh replied as a broad grin spread across his face.

  David remained quiet as the room filled up, taking the measure of those who entered. A mix of civilians in business attire, CDF officers, some of which were clearly from intelligence, judging by the ribbons and insignia on their uniforms. Don’t typically see so many civilians at military briefing sessions. That’s mighty odd. I wonder what they’re up to?

  Toward the end of the stream of people, a familiar face strode into the room—Colonel Robert Sinclair, the CDF intelligence officer responsible for analysis and prediction on the CSV Oxford. As he flashed a smile toward David, Sinclair took a seat across the table.

  “Good to see you, Cohen.”

  “Likewise, Sinclair. Still doing God’s work?”

  “Always. In God we trust; all others we monitor.”

  David chuckled, as did several others within earshot. I’ll always be amused by that motto.

  Spencer appeared, walking back through the door with a bodyguard, and immediately, everyone sprang to their feet. “Please be seated, ladies and gentlemen,” he said as he sat in his chair. Once the room had settled down, he continued. “Thank you all for coming on short notice, some from very far away. We have a situation to deal with. Before we begin, I want to impress upon everyone that I will not tolerate agency politics, interdepartmental competition, or any impediments to eradicating the threat you’re about to be briefed on. Are we clear?”

  “Crystal, sir,” MacIntosh said.

  “Yes, sir,” a white-haired man directly across from MacIntosh stated.

  David recognized the face but couldn’t quite place it.

  “Good. Then let’s get started.”

  The white-haired man leaned forward and glanced up and down the table. “Thank you, Mr. President. Some of you are aware of our subject matter today, but for those who are not, I’ll give you a brief overview. Some time ago, a new and highly addictive narcotic named Orbita was introduced to the Terran Coalition. It’s been spreading across our space, and recent revelations have brought the issue into sharp relief.”

  That’s Gideon Yoram. Director of the Coalition Bureau of Investigation, David realized with a start. “Orbita?”

  “Colonel, every joke that can be made has already been made,” Yoram said, his voice testy. “Moving on. Deputy Assistant Director Rajiya Qadir with our counterintelligence division will take it from here.”

  Qadir stood up. “Lights, please.”

  David shifted his gaze to her, his curiosity piqued. The lights dimmed, and a holoprojected image filled the front of the room.

  “As Director Yoram said, we’ve been tracking this for some time. A few days ago, we broke open the case with the capture of a League intelligence officer.”

  Leaguers pushing drugs? That’s new.

  “After sustained questioning, we persuaded him to reveal a few pieces of information.”

  “Is that a nice way of saying you used enhanced interrogation techniques or truth serums on the captured operative?” David asked.

  “I’m sorry, you are?”

  “Colonel David Cohen.”

  “Ah. We didn’t torture him, Colonel,” Qadir replied, her eyes flashing. “Enhanced techniques, as you put it, are authorized under the League of Sol Special War Powers Act of 2553.”

  “Not debating the legality, nor am I getting into the morality of what you did to this guy,” David said tightly. “However, information obtained using those methods is less reliable in my experience.”

  Qadir stopped and turned toward David fully. “Not in mine.” She rotated back toward the front of the room. “Now, the information we’ve received so far has been verified by SIGINT from the Oxford.”

  SIGNIT… Signals intelligence. Spooks and acronyms. Almost as bad as the military with naming stuff.

  “The reason we’ve been unable to roll up the distribution network for this drug is because it’s backed by the League of Sol. They have intelligence officers involved throughout the operation and are directing its movement. We also believe the League invented, and perhaps manufactures the substance as well.”

  “Seems out of character for the League,” Sinclair interjected. “I’m missing the why.”

  “I believe they’re attempting to destabilize us from within,” Qadir replied. “This drug is being targeted specifically at our teenage and young adult population. A detailed medical study suggests that it will kill anyone who takes it regularly within a year.”

  “A year?” David asked, incredulously.

  “Yes. Have you ever heard a criminal organization that kills off its user base?”

  “It does seem a bit counter-intuitive,” MacIntosh said. “That’s one reason why we believe the intel is legitimate.”

  Qadir shifted the holoprojection to a map of the local star cluster. “There’s a very narrow window of time to capture the next rung up the ladder. Anyone recognize this system?”

  The view zoomed in a small orange star, with one planet in the goldilocks zone—just barely.

  “Gilead?” David asked.

  Qadir flashed what could have been considered a smile at him. “Correct, Colonel. Somewhat ironic considering the planet’s reputation. But it makes sense. Neutral world, close to Terran Coalition space. Limited laws on narcotics and recreational drug use, libertarian governmental structure. Add in an unsophisticated national police force hamstrung by limitations on surveillance, and you have a hotbed of organized crime.”

  There’s a reason the place is known as a planet to have a good time on for shore leave. What’s the line… what you do on Gilead remains on Gilead? Something like that.

  “That’s why you’re here, Colonel,” Spencer said, causing everyone to look in his direction. “After extensive debate, w
e think the Lion of Judah is uniquely suited to investigate covertly.”

  David leaned forward and glanced around MacIntosh. “Sir, the Lion is about the least covert asset in the Coalition Defense Force.”

  “Perhaps. It also has everything we need for a successful mission. I believe Andrew has already told you that the combination of battleship, planetary assault capability, and fast mover space assets is just what the doctor ordered. Officially, you’re making a port call and flying the flag. Unofficially, you will meet with a top government official on Gilead, Brandon Nelson. Between him and a few intelligence assets, you will find the manufacturing center for this drug, capture or kill those involved, and get us the next rung up in the conspiracy.”

  “Mr. President, I realize this mission is of vital importance. I must respectfully counter by saying that the Lion’s place is at the front. We have civilian agencies for dealing with law enforcement matters.”

  MacIntosh turned to David, a look on his face that had a clear meaning: Shut up now.

  “I respect your opinion, Colonel,” Spencer replied. “General Becker was most vocal. I overruled him. Simply put, I believe successfully suppressing this drug before it can take root is of vital importance. I want the best people in this nation on it. So you and your ship are up.”

  I’d better quit while I’m ahead. “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. Director Qadir is going with you as a liaison with CBI. I want you underway by 0800 CMT tomorrow morning. Clear?”

  “Crystal, sir.”

  “Good hunting, and Godspeed, Colonel. Meeting adjourned, everyone.”

  Spencer stood.

  David sprang to his feet along with the rest of the room. After his bodyguards whisked him away, everyone else cleared out quickly.

  MacIntosh cleared his throat. “Going to have your hands full on this one, Colonel.”

  “I sense that too, sir.”

  “The mixing military and law enforcement functions isn’t something I like to see. I’ll allow it’s warranted by the League’s involvement here.”

  David frowned. “As long as it doesn’t creep forward to using the military on Terran Coalition planets to go after criminals.”