Keep the Faith

by Daniel Gibbs

  “We only landed a grazing hit with our neutron beams, and they took out both Hunters with point defense. Between the reduction in targeting scanner effectiveness and their fusion drives, they’re just too fast. Master One will reach the Lawrence limit in four minutes.”

  Ruth leaned in and spoke quietly so no one could hear. “We need to change the rules here. We’re playing his game, not ours.”

  “Got any ideas, Lieutenant? From where I’m sitting, I should’ve had multiple squadrons of fighters, armed with anti-ship loadouts on ready five. Colonel Cohen was right. I was overconfident.”

  “No time for second-guessing now, Major,” Ruth barked in a whisper. “Work the problem.”

  Her calm, confident voice was a buoy for Hanson to latch on to. She’s right. Just work the problem. Neutron beams can’t lock on, mag-cannons probably won’t hit, and they somehow splashed two Hunters. “Lieutenant, how many missiles do you think it would take to overwhelm the enemy’s PD systems?”

  “We could launch twenty Starbolts, backed by ten Hunters,” Kelsey interjected into the conversation. “That ship wouldn’t survive.”

  “The entire point of this operation is to capture them, not reduce the ship and its crew to their constituent atoms. Best guess, either one of you?”

  Ruth exchanged a glance with Kelsey, who turned around in her seat, apparently unwilling to offer an estimate. “I’d send two volleys of four Hunters, sir. His shields can absorb maybe one hit. The TAO can detonate the others once the shield is down; close enough to scramble his sensors and drive, but not destroy the ship outright.”

  “We screw it up, and that ship gets wiped off the face of the universe.”

  Ruth shrugged and smirked. “It’s my best guess, sir.”

  “Okay,” Hanson replied with a grin of his own. “Here’s to hoping it works. TAO, firing point procedures, forward VRLS. Make tubes fifty-three through sixty ready in all respects and open outer doors.”

  “Conn, TAO. Tubes fifty-three through sixty ready in all respects, outer doors are open, sir,” Kelsey announced.

  “TAO, firing point procedures, forward neutron beams, and magnetic cannons, Master One.”

  “Firing solutions set, sir.”

  “We can’t hope to hit them with mag-cannon fire,” Ruth said, her tone questioning.

  “No, but maybe everything coming in at once will confuse whoever’s flying over there. I’ve got to believe drug dealers don’t engage in run and gun space fights on a daily basis.”

  Ruth snickered. “Valid point, Major.”

  “TAO, match bearings, shoot, all weapons,” Hanson said as he directed his gaze toward Kelsey.

  The Lion of Judah rocked as the brace of missiles thundered out of their tubes, and the forward magnetic cannons spoke as one. All of their shots missed, but it did seem to have one effect on Feldt’s ship: instead of pressing their advantage on the port shields, the enemy vessel increased its forward speed and blew past the Lion.

  “Conn, TAO. Aspect change, Master One. She’s rapidly accelerating away from us, sir.”

  “ETA to Hunter intercept?”

  “Thirty seconds at max burn, sir.”

  Hanson’s eyes went back to the tactical plot. Hunters were the absolute best anti-ship missile the Terran Coalition had. Come on, come on! The dots representing them gained on Feldt’s vessel, two were shot down from the first volley, but one entered terminal homing mode and slammed into its shields, a multi-megaton fusion explosion shining through space like a small star. The second warhead connected as well, completely draining their shields.

  “TAO, stand by to detonate remaining warheads,” Hanson barked, his eyes split between the tactical plot, and a sidelong glance at Kelsey’s hands, resting above a button on the screen of her console. The dots for the Hunters closed within five kilometers, and he ticked off two seconds. “Detonate!”

  Her finger pressed down, and another small sun erupted in space. If not for the anti-glare technology built into the alloy windows, the bridge crew would’ve been blinded. Seconds ticked off as the everyone seemingly held their breath. “Conn, TAO. Master One disabled. She’s no longer maneuvering, sir!”

  Hanson clenched his fist and made a small downward pump motion as he flashed a fierce grin at Ruth, who returned it. “Nice shooting, TAO. Now, firing point procedures, neutron beams, Master One. I want his engines reduced to rubble.”

  “Aye aye, sir. Firing solutions set.”

  “Match bearings, shoot, neutron beams.”

  “Master One isn’t going anywhere, sir,” Ruth said, her face holding back a smirk. “Her thruster mounts are detached in space.”

  “Communications,” Hanson began with a glance toward Bell. “Get me Colonel Demood.”

  26

  “We’ve got the green light, ladies and gentlemen,” Calvin said into the open intercom of his command shuttle. Slightly larger, and with more command and control capabilities than a normal TCMC assault shuttle, it was always first in the fight, as he relished leading from the front. “VBSS shuttles two and three, follow us out.” He clicked off the intercom with a flippant flick of his finger.

  “Colonel Demood, this is Director Qadir. Can you hear me?”

  He grunted. What the heck does she want? “Go ahead, Director.”

  “It’s imperative you take prisoners on this mission. Above all, Edward Feldt must survive.”

  Calvin’s face blanched, his displeasure showing. “I’ve little interest putting my Marines’ lives at stake to capture drug dealers, ma’am. If someone wants to surrender, all power to them. Otherwise, I’m putting these idiots down.”

  “Colonel, all of this is for nothing if we don’t get the leaders. Especially Feldt. Without them, we can’t roll up the next rung and expose the League.”

  For the simple days when bullets and grenades solved all my problems. “Fine, Director. We’ll do our best to bring as many back for questioning as possible.”

  “Thank you, Colonel,” Qadir replied, her tone curt.

  The line cut off, leaving Calvin alone in his thoughts once again. “Take us out, Warrant.”

  “Space doors are open,” the pilot said as the shuttle pitched up and lifted off the deck plates. It swung around, showing the blackness of space beyond, with a few stars sprinkled about. Quickly gathering steam, they accelerated off the Lion of Judah and into the void.

  “Crank up our ECM. Got a feeling our friends out there aren’t out of tricks yet.”

  “Leave the flying to me, Colonel. I got this,” the pilot replied, her tone a bit cocky.

  Pilots. They’re all smartasses. Calvin shook his head.

  Another voice cut into the conversation via the shuttle’s commlink. “Demood, this is Amir. Can you hear me?”

  “Five by five, Colonel,” Calvin called out.

  “Reaper flight is taking point on your wing. We’re armed with anti-point defense missiles, just in case. Major Hanson sends his regards.”

  Calvin grunted. Who would’ve thought the little nerd from engineering would end up being who the colonel chose to run the ship? Heh. “Roger that, Amir. Try to keep up.”

  A snicker of laughter drifted through the open link. “I’ll do that, Demood.”

  Most of the flight was uneventful, and relatively speaking, short. Less than ten minutes later, they entered the engagement envelope of standard point defense weaponry if it was still active on Feldt’s ship.

  “Scan for active energy emissions, Warrant,” Calvin ordered, staring down at his console.

  “Already done, Colonel,” the young woman replied as she glanced at him. “This isn’t my first rodeo.”

  “Point taken.”

  An alarm started to sound from the central console. “Targeting scanner lock on,” the pilot announced, pulling hard on her flight-stick.

  Calvin wasted no time in punching up the commlink to Amir’s fighter. “Hey, Amir. How about you and some of your hotshot buddies take care of this problem for us? We’re lit
up like a Christmas tree.”

  “We’re already on it, Colonel. Sit tight.”

  For some reason, Amir’s deep baritone reassured Calvin. Because in warfare, you're never alone. Never without the overwatch and protection of our brothers and sisters in arms. Through the integrated fleet link tactical system, he watched as the nimble space superiority fighters opened up on any weapons system Feldt’s ship brought online. Quickly and decisively, the enemy vessel was rendered unable to fight, in many ways like an animal with no teeth.

  Amir’s voice again filled the cockpit. “The way is clear, my friend. Walk with Allah.”

  “Thanks, buddy. I owe you one. Godspeed.”

  “Colonel, any preference on a docking port?” the pilot asked.

  “Yeah, near as you can get to the bridge.”

  “Hang on, sir. This may be a bit bumpy.”

  Oh, joy. She’s going to try to make me toss my lunch.

  “All weapons systems have been destroyed except for our main mason emitter, sir,” a panicked crewman reported, tossing a glance back toward his employer, Edward Feldt.

  Feldt leaned forward in his seat, a chair built up on a platform on the ship that until now had been the most powerful non-military vessel in Gilead space. “Engine status?”

  “Offline, sir.”

  The thin mask of self-control Feldt portrayed fell entirely by the wayside as he slammed his fists into the armrests of his chair and roared, “Fix it! Fix it now, or I’ll kill every member of your families. Your friends, all of them will die if I do!”

  The man who occupied the navigation station stood and turned around, his tanned face ashen. “Mr. Feldt, I can’t do anything. The Lion of Judah sliced our engine exhaust manifolds off the back of the ship.”

  Feldt reached down and pulled up a small electronic tablet, tapping at the screen. “Your wife just died.”

  “Please, Mr. Feldt!” the man screamed, tears instantly streaming down his face. “I can’t make it work!”

  Another tap at the screen. “Your daughter.”

  “No!”

  “Your son. Fix it. Now.”

  “I can’t!”

  Feldt hit the button marked “terminate all.” He paused. “Your entire family and all friends I’ve identified are dead. You can die now.” With a theatrical flourish, he pressed it once more.

  Nothing happened.

  Staring at the screen, then at the man, Feldt’s eyes went wide. For more than twenty years, he’d ruled through absolute fear and control. He was smart enough to know any crack in his armor would invite exploitation at the hands of his enemies and challenge for control among those who worked for him. If his system no longer functioned… he wasn’t in control. He pressed a button to terminate another member of his bridge crew—again, nothing happened.

  The men and women who had for so long toiled and suffered stood from their respective stations. While long beaten down, there was something different in their eyes.

  Hope. They have hope they can finally get revenge on me. Feldt drew his sidearm and fired it twice, striking the navigator in the chest. “Who's next? Get this ship back online!”

  “He can’t kill us all,” a voice from behind the chair said, the first verbalization of defiance. It belonged to Jacob Aquino, one of the newest recruits. “If we rush him together, we can take him.”

  “Then what?” another voice interjected.

  Feldt whirled around and shot someone in the head. “Resume your stations!”

  Aquino made eye contact. “We’ll turn him over to the boarding teams from the Terran Coalition and survive another day.”

  As Feldt adjusted the aim of his pistol to shoot down the voice that dared to speak against him, several men collided with his backside and knocked the gun out of his hand. A wild melee ensued, with a mass of human flesh punching, kicking, and flailing about on the deck. Though he was a trained and robust combatant, with at least six sets of hands he could identify attacking him, there was no chance to emerge victorious. Finally pulled to his feet, bloodied and bruised, he was left snarling at those who minutes before had been his slaves in all aspects of the word.

  “We should kill him,” someone said. “He murdered my mother when I joined his organization.”

  “No. We turn him over to the Terrans. In exchange for amnesty,” Aquino interjected, his voice loud and insistent.

  “The Terrans will kill us all. We should get to the shuttle bay, escape to Gilead, and force him to give up his bank accounts to us.”

  “You fool, the Lion of Judah has fighters, Marines, and weaponry that’ll erase us before we get five hundred meters away. The only way out is to deliver Feldt to them.”

  “I’ll kill you all! Those who remain loyal to me will never allow you to get away!” Feldt screamed, losing more control over himself with every syllable. One of the men behind him—he couldn’t tell who—hit him in the head with the butt of a pistol, and everything went black.

  Aibek paced through the hallways of the Gileadean government complex. He’d been shifted from one conference room to the next, given little to no information, and treated in an unsatisfactory manner. If only I were not wearing the uniform of the Terran Coalition, I would teach these ingrates the meaning of a Saurian warrior. But he was, and honor demanded he adhere to the oath sworn to the CDF, and its customs, duties, and rules. Reaching his objective, he steeled himself and pushed the door open to reveal yet another conference room containing a small multitude of humans, including General Wright and Minister Nelson.

  “Ah, thank you for joining us again, Colonel Aibek,” Nelson said as soon as he’d entered the room.

  “Following the last six hours of hospitality by your government, I have little interest in continued games. What do you want, Minster?”

  “Down to business it is,” Nelson continued. “Please have a seat.”

  Aibek glowered in his direction. “I’ll stand.”

  “We were wondering if you could shed some light on the space battle fought between the Lion of Judah, and an unidentified ship above our planet.”

  “I’m not aware of such a battle, Minister. I’ve been sitting down here, trying to gain information for my government.”

  “You’re the executive officer of that ship, Colonel,” Wright barked. “Don’t play coy with me. Politicians might buy it, but I’m a military man. Where’s Cohen?”

  “Colonel Cohen doesn’t clear his movements with me. I believe he’s back at the Terran Coalition embassy, indisposed in the SCIF.”

  Wright crossed his arms in front of him and stared at Aibek with eyes that bored into him. “Oh, that’s quite convenient. I was under the impression Saurians placed honor above all else and weren’t in the business of lying.”

  It is not lying to deceive an enemy, which this fool clearly doesn’t understand. “I have not lied to you, General. I would suggest you proceed very cautiously. The last human to accuse me of such was jettisoned out an airlock.”

  The two Gileadeans exchanged glances with each other, while the others in the back row of chairs appeared uncomfortable. Wright turned and stared at Aibek. “I’m not that last human.”

  He has a spine. Aibek opened his mouth in a toothy grin, the kind he knew sent shivers down other humans. “No, you are not.”

  “Gentlemen, please,” Nelson began. “There’s no need for us to threaten each other. The government of Gilead merely wants to know what’s going on in its space. We invited you here to help us.”

  “There’s also the matter of the stealth shuttle we detected heading into our atmosphere,” Wright interjected matter-of-factly. “Unless I miss my mark, it contained a special operations team. I wonder… Colonel Cohen is out of contact.”

  In truth, Aibek had been briefed via a covert commlink and knew exactly what was going on. “You will have to take that up with the embassy.” I can stonewall as well as them.

  “Alright. Have it your way,” Nelson said as he stood up. “We’ll get to the bottom of this.�
��

  “I am sure quite we will, Minister,” Aibek replied again with a big toothy smile. The humans stormed out of the room, leaving the big Saurian alone to ponder. I do wish I was with David. It feels dishonorable to not be a part of the fight.

  27

  The airlock hatch opened up, and a Marine to Calvin’s left tossed a couple of pulse grenades through the opening. Three seconds later, they exploded with enough concussive force to render any non-armored human momentarily stunned. He charged through into Feldt’s ship to find a single figure writhing around on the deck. A shot from his battle rifle with a stun round later and all movement ceased. “Cuff ‘em and tag ‘em. We’ll clean up later.”

  As a Marine moved to carry out his order, Calvin pointed his weapon down the passageway. Surprisingly clean for a criminal-owned ship. Maybe he’s a neat freak. The thought prompted a snicker.

  “Let me take point, sir,” a younger corporal named Lewis said.

  I know he’s right. Ugh. Ranking up and getting old. For the days when all I had to do was kick down doors and shoot Leaguers. “Okay, Lewis. Don’t screw this up.”

  “I won’t, sir.”

  Calvin hung back as the youngster—they were all so young now—took the lead. A couple of short skirmishes netted another two stunned gunmen, but nothing in the way of determined opposition presented itself until they encountered a large security hatch in one of the bulkheads. “It’s locked down tight, sir.”

  “I need explosives up here. Got to take out a door,” Calvin said into his commlink.

  It didn’t take long to line a detcord strip, coupled with blast putty, against the hinges on the hatch around the locking mechanism and seals. The boarding team backed up to a safe distance.

  Calvin held up the detonator control; he enjoyed being the one to trigger it. “Fire in the hole!”

  There was a flash of orange flame, combined with a blast wave and billowing smoke from the site of the detonation. The clanging sound of metal hitting metal echoed throughout the passageway. When the smoke cleared, the hatch was no longer visible.