by Daniel Gibbs
“Your world promises us that You will never leave us, nor forsake us. You promised our ancestors, back to our father, Abraham…You would have a covenant with us. Where are You?” David began to cry as he prayed.
“I have watched as tens of thousands… no, hundreds of thousands have died, fighting in Your name. We stand up every day and resist evil. Where have You gone? Why have You abandoned us?” David looked down, tears streaming down his face as he considered what he was saying. His heart was troubled, and he didn’t know what to do or how to go on.
“Your word tells us that if Your people, who are called by Your name, will humble themselves and pray, and seek Your face, and turn from our wicked ways, then You will hear us from heaven, and will forgive our sins and heal our land. Where are you, Adonai? We call on Your name continuously. Those who worship You, not just Your chosen people but gentiles who call on Your name, and our Arab brothers.”
David stopped for a moment, his mind and soul lost. “Where is the still small voice? Why have You abandoned us!” David shouted at the top of his lungs.
Sobbing, David buried his head in his hand. Am I a fool? Is Hayworth right? Is there is no God, is all of this just a figment of our imaginations? As soon as those thoughts ran through David’s head, he shoved them down. “Though I walk through the midst of death, You preserve my life. You stretch out Your hand against our foes; with Your right hand, You save me.” David recited from the Psalms. “He who lives in the secret place of the most High shall abide under the shadow of the Lord. I will say of the Lord, He is my refuge and my fortress; my God, in Him will I trust.”
David closed his eyes and sat back on the pew. What do I do? How do I go on? I so wish Sheila was here. She could help me get through this. The condemnation he felt roared back to the surface. She’s not here because you had to play the hero. You got her killed. You’re a failure. You’ve always been a failure. Now you’re going to get everyone killed and allow the League to win. “No!” David shouted. Was this the adversary that Sheila warned him of? Jews and Christians had far different views of Satan, but he’d done much research after what Sheila said to him in the vision. “Only a fool says there is no God. Adonai, help me. Give me strength, give me wisdom. If it is Your will, use me to do good and deliver victory.”
Still crying, David began to dry his tears and attempted to compose himself. It would only be so long before someone else would come into the shul and see him like this, and it wouldn’t do for the commanding officer to be seen sobbing like a baby. After saying his final prayer, David stood, slowly walking out of the shul, removing his prayer shawl as he did and returning it to the small cloth bag.
David walked through the empty passageways, finding himself in front of the gravlift. The doors slid open, revealing a single occupant, an enlisted soldier with the bars of a private first class. The young man, who couldn’t have been more than twenty years old, snapped to attention. “Sir!”
David walked onto the lift and managed to smile. “At ease, Private.”
After the young man relaxed to parade rest, there were a few seconds of awkward silence. “Uh, permission to speak freely, sir?”
“Granted, Private,” David replied automatically.
“Sir, I wanted you to know I can’t begin to imagine what it’s like to have all this responsibility on your shoulders. All I have to do is work on a damage control team and handle moving some boxes.”
As the young private spoke, David looked over his uniform and realized he was assigned to the quartermaster’s department, and his name was Jason Waters. “There are times it seems like I’m completely alone, Private,” David said, not entirely sure why he was engaging in the conversation.
“Sir, if I may, a good man is never alone. No matter how much it feels like we are, God is always beside us.”
As the lift stopped and the doors slid open, David smiled. “Thank you, Private Waters. Carry on.”
The private brought himself to attention once more. “Aye aye, sir!” he said before walking out of the gravlift.
It was his stop as well, but he was going in the opposite direction. After getting ten steps down the passageway, David stopped. He decided to go back and thank the private for his words. Random as they were, he’d felt them touch his emotions. Turning on his heel and walking back down the way he had come from, he passed through the bulkhead into the next section, but it was empty.
Greatly puzzled, David walked halfway down to the next section, but saw no place for the young man to have gone. Shaking his head and wondering if his mind was playing tricks on him, he headed off back to his cabin.
17
Amir found himself wandering around the hangar deck of the Lion, going through the motions of inspecting fighters, but in reality, he was trying to pass the time and ignore the despair gnawing at his soul. Staring up at a bomber that was being worked on by a gaggle of technicians, Amir heard a voice next to him.
“Major Richard Hume, reports as ordered, sir.”
Amir turned to look and saw the man standing behind him. Major Hume had transferred aboard the ship several weeks prior. He was currently serving as a squadron commander, but Amir remembered from his service jacket that he had served as an interim wing commander onboard an escort carrier.
“As-Salaam-Alaikum, Major.”
“Unto you peace as well, Colonel Amir,” Hume said as a smile graced his lips. “What can I do for you, sir?”
“I need a temporary executive officer for the wing,” Amir said, his voice low, and unable to make eye contact.
“I see, sir. I’m not sure I have the experience you're looking for.”
“You served for three months as the wing commander of a Thane class escort carrier, did you not?” Amir asked.
“Yes, sir, I did. As I’m sure you know, sir, the Boxer had forty fighters on it. The Lion is something else entirely…”
Amir shook his head. “It’s not ideal. But General Cohen wants to fight the League once more. I have to put together my wing as best as I can. You’re the only candidate for the job that has even temporary wing command experience.”
“I’ll do my best, sir,” Hume answered as he shuffled his feet.
“Good. I will send you my thoughts on reforming the remaining pilots and fighters into compressed squadrons. Review them and send your comments back to me as soon as possible.”
“Aye aye, sir!”
“Dismissed,” Amir said as he looked over the man once more. He was tall for a pilot, coming in at nearly two meters. Two more centimeters and he’d be too tall for most space superiority fighters. In glancing over his ribbons, Amir saw he’d seen his fair share of combat across half a dozen sectors. Under the flag of Terran Coalition on his shoulder was a flag he’d never seen before. Its primary color was red but had two white stripes that cut across it, making four red squares separated by white lines. The effect was distinctive.
Hume nodded. “Yes, sir. I’ll be available to review the assignments as soon as you have them.” He turned on his heel and walked off across the hangar bay, leaving Amir to ponder how he was going to put it all back together again.
After a restless night, David got up at his usual time, 0430 CMT, and stumbled through his morning ritual. Still smarting from the massive loss of life, David was fighting inside of himself to avoid succumbing to the grave and dark pit of depression and despair. After morning prayers, he walked to the officers’ mess and ordered himself a couple of eggs cooked over easy with toast and hash browns. Coupled with a cup of piping hot CDF coffee, he hoped it would be enough to sustain him through the rest of the morning.
David took a seat by one of the large, transparent metal “windows,” looking out into the deep before bowing his head and saying a quiet prayer of thanks in Hebrew. Opening up the top of one of the eggs, he soaked the yolk into his toast before taking a large bite. Savoring the fresh egg, he followed up with a sip of coffee, already feeling refreshed. A voice behind him startled him out of his thoughts. “Ge
neral? Do you have a moment?”
Turning his head, he instantly recognized the voice as Angie’s. “I suppose,” he said in a cautious tone.
“Thank you,” she replied in a bright tone of voice, taking a seat at the two-person table while cradling her mug of coffee. “I’ve been trying to send out a report on the battle yesterday, but your communications officer won’t allow me.”
David raised an eyebrow. “You expect to get out an uncensored report on the events of the last two days?”
“Why wouldn’t I? That was the deal with the military, no censorship,” Angie said as her face turned bright red.
“I don’t think any of us thought of the situation we’re now in.”
“So you only want the good news reported? The people have a right to know what’s going on out here!”
“Calm down,” David said. Taking in the nasty look she gave him in return, he continued, “Angie, I cannot allow news of this disaster to get out until we have a solution. Not to mention, the ship’s on EMCON alpha. Nothing is going in or out until that’s lifted. Period. No ifs, ands, its, or buts about it.”
“Once the EMCON is lifted, will I be allowed to report?” Angie replied through gritted teeth.
“Yes. Once I see what you’re planning to report and approve it.”
“Unacceptable.”
“I don’t care if you find it acceptable or not,” David snapped back, his patience gone.
“I thought we had an understanding with each other,” Angie said in return, her voice losing power.
David’s expression softened; he shook his head. “We do. I’m sorry. The last two days have been troubling. This is new territory. I can’t allow this defeat to get back to the general population without at least some hope for victory.” Without waiting for her response, he continued. “Why? Because it’ll destroy our morale… and morale across the entire Terran Coalition. We’ve been riding a high for months, taking the fight to the League and winning everywhere. A disaster like this? It could break our will to fight. I’ve got to look at the bigger picture. Winning this war is what matters.”
Angie nodded her head. “I understand what you’re saying, though I don’t agree. I believe we’re all smart enough to pull together in the face of adversity, and I don’t think morale is as fragile as you say it is. Need I remind you that freedom of speech and the press is enshrined in the Constitution?”
Maybe the real problem is me, that I’m fragile… but I can’t admit that. “Perhaps. But it’s my boat, so it’s my call. As for freedom of the press, we both know the War Powers Act gives the military broad discretion over reporting from the battlefield.” At her nasty expression, he tried to paper over his last comment. “I promise you when the time is right, you’ll get the scoop.”
“Thank you,” Angie replied, her voice tight. “I’ll let you get back to your breakfast.”
David nodded as she stood. “Have a good day,” he said, and her only acknowledgment was a slight incline of her head as she walked off. Well, if I had any thoughts about asking her out, better put those in cold storage. He smirked to himself before he resumed eating his breakfast.
After his impromptu meeting with Angie over breakfast, David walked back to deck one toward his day cabin, which doubled as an office. The amount of paperwork required to keep a ship the size of the Lion going was genuinely monumental, and while Aibek did a lot of it as the XO, there was still more than enough for him to attend to. If he fell behind even a day or two, it was nearly impossible to catch up. As he worked his way through a series of personnel forms, he heard a knock at the hatch.
“Come in!” David shouted, loud enough to be heard through the hatch.
The hatch swung open, and in poked the head of Rabbi Kravitz, wearing his standard Orthodox garb and yarmulke. “Am I disturbing you, General?”
David shook his head. “Come on in, Rabbi. I could use a few minutes’ break from paperwork.”
Laughing, the older man made his way onto of the chairs in front of David’s desk and plopped himself down. “Amazing that no matter how far we go technologically speaking, there’s always some administrative form to fill out.”
David nodded his agreement. “I know. We can’t seem to get rid of it, no matter how hard we try. Every few years, the CDF tries a paperwork reduction drive, which seems only to increase the number of administrative documents we have to complete.”
After a polite chuckle, Kravitz pursed his lips together. “Are you okay, David?”
The question caught David by surprise. Had the rabbi heard him last night? “I’m fine, Rabbi. Just been a… bad couple of days.”
“You didn’t sound fine last night.”
David’s eyes went wide. “You heard me?”
Kravitz nodded his head. “Yes, I did. I was in the back of the shul doing my own paperwork…notes for the message this sabbath. I didn’t want to intrude on a deeply personal moment, but I did want to visit you this morning. I worry about you.”
“Thank you, Rabbi.” Oh no… I didn’t want anyone to hear that display. “I was just at a low point.”
“Sometimes I think we all wonder. Why all this happens. Why God doesn’t wave his hand and strike the League from the universe,” Kravitz mused out loud.
“I ask that question many times. Especially after such large losses of life,” David replied.
“And what answers do you arrive at?”
David spread his hands out in front of him on the desk. “I don’t know sometimes. I can’t logically accept the idea there isn’t a higher power. I don’t believe everything in this universe is simply pure random chance and we’re the cosmic equivalent of winning the multi-planet lottery. But there’s a big difference between creating something and actively taking care of it.”
“So you think God would go to all this trouble, make this massive universe, and then step back?”
David shrugged. “I ask myself that question at times. Ultimately, I retreat to my faith and soldier on. But I won’t deny that it gets harder and harder to keep going.”
“So what now, then?”
David shook his head. “Now we try to figure out a way to defeat this new technology the League has. Then we put together an operational plan to engage them, take that station, and run Seville and his butchers back to Earth. If that’s even possible…” David’s voice trailed off.
“You sound as if you’re uncertain of victory,” Kravitz responded.
“I am. I’ve never seen a battle go sideways so quickly before. We were grinding down the League force, everything was going according to plan, and then out of nowhere…we lose twenty percent of our fleet.”
“It is a commandment not to panic—” Kravitz began.
“Or retreat in battle, nor to fear the enemy. Mitzvot six hundred and ten,” David finished with a small smile on his face. “You forget, Rabbi, I wanted your job.”
A broad smile creased Kravitz’s face. “Then you must remember the first Mitzvot…to know there is a God.”
“And to know that He is one, to love Him, and to fear Him,” David added, reciting the third, four, and fifth Mitzvot; the Mitzvot were the six hundred and thirteen commandments all Orthodox Jews followed.
“Oh, so you do remember your studies. I thought you might have forgotten them for a moment,” the rabbi answered, a jovial smile creasing his lips.
“It’s not that I don’t remember, Rabbi, it’s that sometimes… sometimes my faith fails me.”
Kravitz nodded. “I believe we all question at some point in our lives here what’s going on. I have… but I see the beauty of the universe and in it the imprint of God’s hand. I see the miracle of life all around me, and while there may be darkness, I believe there is far more light than dark.”
“Most days, that’s where I’m at too, Rabbi. But on the day we lost nearly fifteen thousand men and women, well, on that day, I guess I question myself a little bit more.”
“Could you have done anything differently? Anything to
alter the course of the battle that you didn’t do?”
David’s brow furrowed; he’d considered the same question repeatedly. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. We had no idea what we were walking into.”
“Then don’t focus on the past except to learn from it. You have a meeting in a few minutes to determine how to defeat this League weapon, don’t you?”
David cracked a smile. “Yes, I do, Rabbi. Though I’m curious how you know that…”
“God works in mysterious ways,” Kravitz said with a laugh. “Of course, having access to your calendar is also quite useful.”
David laughed out loud; the old rabbi always seemed to make things better. “Thank you for the pep talk.”
“Anytime, General. Mazel tov,” Kravitz replied as he stood up from the chair, using the Hebrew words for “good luck.”
“B’ezrat HaShem,” David responded, invoking a phrase that meant “with God’s help.”
“I’ll see you later, General,” Kravitz said as he walked out of the office.
David looked down at his tablet and finished off a couple more forms before it was time for him to chair the meeting that would hopefully have a solution to the League’s weapon. Glad as he was for the rabbi’s time, his soul continued to be troubled. Today, though, that would have to wait. He had a duty, and today that duty was to find a way to defeat the League. Forcing one foot in front of the other, he stood up and walked out of his day cabin, headed into the unknown.
18
The main conference room on deck one of the Lion of Judah was more packed than David could ever recall. All chairs were occupied, with all of the senior officers in attendance. Overflow seating had been placed along the walls of both sides of the room, and they were filled with faces he didn’t usually see, including Doctor Hayworth, several contractors besides Kenneth, and support personnel. He noted that Captain Rajneesh Singh, the commander of the Lion’s special operations teams, was present. They’d worked together in the past, but as Captain Singh reported directly to Calvin, he typically didn’t interact with them on an operational basis.
