Star Wars: The Jedi Path and Book of Sith Deluxe Box Set (Star Wars Gifts, Sith Book, Jedi Code, Star Wars Book Set)
Author: Daniel Wallace
Date: 2014-08-12 00:00:00+00:00
Description: Learn the ways of the light and dark sides of the force... This box set brings the light and dark sides of the Force together for the first time. The Jedi Path is the ancient Jedi training handbook that has educated and enlightened generations of Jedi, including Yoda, Obi-Wan Kenobi, and Luke Skywalker. They have handwritten their comments into this text, the only remaining copy in existence. Book of Sith is a compilation of six legendary dark texts gathered and bound together by Darth Sidious, and featuring comments from Darth Vader, Mace Windu, Darth Maul, and others. This deluxe edition pro
Publisher: Chronicle Books LLC

Echoes of War Books 1-3

Echoes of War Series

Daniel Gibbs

Contents

CSV Yitzhak Rabin Blueprints

CSV Lion of Judah Blueprints

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Also Available from Daniel Gibbs

Foreword

Echoes of War Book One - Fight the Good Fight

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

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Also Available from Daniel Gibbs

Echoes of War Book Two - Strong and Courageous

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Free Daniel Gibbs Books

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Echoes of War Book Three - So Fight I

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Echoes of War Book Four - Gates of Hell: Sneak Peak

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Acknowledgments

For more detailed specifications, visit http://www.danielgibbsauthor.com/universe/ships/yitzhak-rabin/

For more detailed specifications, visit http://www.danielgibbsauthor.com/universe/ships/lion-of-judah/

Get Two free & Exclusive David Gibbs Books

FREE BOOK: Read the story of Levi Cohen and his heroic fight at the first battle of Canaan in Echoes of War: Stand Firm.

FREE BOOK: Join Captain James Henry as he tries to survive in the independent worlds after being cashiered out of the Coalition Defense Force. Can a broken man rebuild his life? Find out in A Simple Mission.

Both available FREE, only at
www.danielgibbsauthor.com/standfirm.

Explore the universe of Echoes Of War including star maps, detailed ship renders and interactive blueprints, as well as a timeline at:

http://www.danielgibbsauthor.com/universe/

Also Available from Daniel Gibbs

Echoes of War

Book 1 - Fight the Good Fight

Book 2 - Strong and Courageous

Book 3 - So Fight I

Book 4 - Gates of Hell

Book 5 - Keep the Faith

Book 6 - Run the Gauntlet

Book 7 - Finish the Fight

Breach of Faith

(With Gary T. Stevens)

Book 1 - Breach of Peace

Book 2 - Breach of Faith

Book 3 - Breach of Duty

Book 4 - Breach of Trust

Foreword

Greetings, military science-fiction reader! I’m David VanDyke, Dragon and Hugo awards finalist and bestselling author or co-author of several hard-hitting and popular sci-fi adventure series—notably the Plague Wars series, the Stellar Conquest series, the Galactic Liberation series and B.V. Larson’s million-selling Star Force series.

I originally ran across Daniel Gibbs on internet forums where independent (“indie”) author-publishers like us meet to chat and exchange information and help each other in our tough business of trying to make a living writing great stories for you readers. He reached out to me for mentorship in bringing his vision of an explicitly Jewish military sci-fi hero—and the struggling, ideology-filled universe around him—to life on the page.

Daniel turned out to be a talented, teachable, hardworking guy, everything a good author should be—thoughtful, dedicated to improving his craft and his storytelling—and most importantly, entertaining to read.

Because that’s what matters, am I right? As readers we want to be entertained with a rollicking great tale of action, combat, doubt, resolution, sacrifice, love and honor that reminds us all of what it is to be frail, fallible, struggling human beings in the ugly, glorious, miserable and terrifying landscape of war.

For those of us who’ve been there in the midst of that cauldron, and whose service is behind us—for war’s horrors most often fall upon the young—it’s wonderful to fictionalize our experiences, always in the hope that our efforts in the past, and our stories in the present, will mean nobody else has to go to war in the future.

Daniel Gibbs is one of those guys.

Unfortunately, the end of war is a vain, if noble, hope. History shows us there will always be war, and as long as there is war, there will be books about war. In this case, we write about what war might look like in the future, for by understanding a thing, by exploring it in fiction, we seek to mitigate it as well as entertain.

I think it was H.G. Wells (though I confess I couldn’t confirm the quote anywhere) who said, upon publishing his tabletop wargame rules Little Wars, “If all our wars were little ones, we might not need big ones.” This may be a paraphrase of one quote I was able to confirm: “How much better is this amiable miniature than the Real Thing!”

Military sci-fi falls into that category—much more welcome between the pages of a book than on our streets and in our homes—or in our honorable service members’ hearts and minds.

In this book, Fight the Good Fight, the first book Daniel Gibbs wrote—much amended and pored-over and rewritten as he developed his craft—you’ll find all of those things I listed above: the highs and the lows, the horrors and the glories, as Corporal David Cohen rises from enlisted man to starship captain. You’ll find more of his adventures in the rest of the Echoes of War series, which will be published over the course of this Year of Our Lord 2019.

David VanDyke

Major, USAF, Retired

Tucson, Arizona

Echoes of War Book One - Fight the Good Fight

Fight the Good Fight by Daniel Gibbs

Copyright © 2018-2019 by Daniel Gibbs

Visit Daniel Gibb’s website at
www.danielgibbsauthor.net

Cover by Jeff Brown Graphics—www.jeffbrowngraphics.com

Additional Illustrations by Joel Steudler—www.joelsteudler.com

Editing by Edits by V and Beth at BZhercules.com

3D Art by Benoit Leonard

This book is a work of fiction, the characters, incidents and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. For permissions please contact info@eotp.net.

1

CSV Artemis

Patrol Sector 14A – Terran Coalition / League of Sol Active Combat Zone

5 February 2544 (Old Earth Calendar)

Corporal David Cohen glanced at a clock showing Coalition Mean Time, or CMT, the standard metric for all CDF ships. It’s time for morning prayers…but there’s no way I can make it to the shul and still keep on schedule for our repairs. An Orthodox Jew, he was heartsick when he couldn’t make it to prayers.

Taking a moment before heading to his post, David stood and prayed quietly. “May the Lord bless you and protect you. May the Lord shine His countenance for you and be gracious to you. May the Lord lift up His favor upon you and grant you peace.” The prayer was from the Book of Numbers, in the Torah. I hope, someday, we can have peace. But the ship isn’t going to repair itself.

David hefted his work belt and made sure it was strapped correctly around his waist. Fit, tall and six months out of boot camp, he’d kept his physical condition with a daily exercise regimen despite the challenges of life in the fleet. His ship, the Coalition Star Vessel Artemis, was a small frigate specializing in point defense, assigned to space battle group centered around a Saratoga-class fleet carrier engaged in combat operations against their enemies, the League of Sol.

Making good time moving about the ship, David walked the passageways like a practiced professional, even after only a few months of being stationed in the fleet. Given a battlefield promotion to corporal, his duties now consisted of leading a damage control team during and after battle. This shift, they were working on a section of the ship that had experienced a total loss of pressure and significant battle damage in their last engagement. Today’s task was to replace piping and wiring bundles throughout the damaged bulkheads and overhead after the hull patching had been completed the day before.

A young private from New Washington, Everard Beckett, groused as he pulled another length of burnt cabling out of the wall. “Corporal, can’t we just patch this stuff on the surface and wait for an overhaul to make it look pretty?”

David narrowed his eyes as he pushed through another bundle of wire. “While we’re at it, why don’t we just leave the holes in the side of the ship? I mean, we’ve been disabled four times in the last three weeks. Wouldn’t want to do it right, so the ship is at maximum combat effectiveness for the next time we fight the League, would we?”

Private Rachel Munford laughed. “There we go, ladies and gentlemen. Another attempt at cutting corners smacked down by our esteemed corporal.”

David snorted as he pulled open another wiring tray. “I don’t know why I bother with you, Beckett. You’ll be someone else’s problem in a couple of years anyway.”

“Oh yeah, we know you want to get out, Corp,” Beckett said. “If I had a credit for every time you told us about your big plans to be a rabbi, I could buy one of these boats and go into business for myself privateering League ships.”

“Are you daft, Beckett? The League doesn’t have any merchant ships on this side of the galactic arm for us to privateer,” Munford said. “I’m just glad we’re out of the front lines for a few days while we get repaired. Being able to relax and actually take a shower is nice. Sometimes it really is the little things in life.”

“How about less jawing and more pulling cables so we can still get to the mess while hot food is being served?” David snapped.

“Aye aye, Corporal!” Beckett said, redoubling his efforts to pull the burnt cable out of its housing.

Over the next hour, the team worked their way through the passageway, and David noted with satisfaction they were far closer to restoring the cabling to a functional state.

Just as he was going to order a break for chow, the alert klaxon sounded. Without needing an order, the team picked up tools and loose materials. The commanding officer’s voice suddenly boomed across the ship wide intercom known as 1MC. “Attention all hands. Prepare to repel boarders. I say again, prepare to repel boarders!”

David instantly recognized the voice of Major Benson Pipes and his mind leaped into overdrive.

“Beckett, Munford, weapons locker… now.”

A look of fear crossed Beckett’s face. “Uh, Corporal, we’re not Marines. Shouldn’t we fall back to a protected space?”

In truth, David was terrified, not only of the enemy but also for the lives of those under his command. He resolved not to show it and press on. “No. We can’t chicken out here, Beckett. We’ve got to bottle up any hostiles until our Marines can get here and save us. Let’s go!”

Leading the team to the nearest weapons locker, David entered his access code and swung the door open. He quickly passed out armored vests to each, followed by particle beam sidearms, battle rifles, and magazines. “Ugh. Only one pulse grenade. I guess the sergeant-at-arms didn’t restock this one properly.” He took the grenade for himself.

Beckett threw an armored vest over his head, securing the straps around his chest. “Only thing worse than corporals are sergeants. Present company excluded, of course.”

“Of course,” David said, as he inserted a magazine into his battle rifle while the others followed suit.

Munford racked the action on her own battle rifle. “Ever wonder how much razzing Major Pipes got in boot camp? With a name like that…”

“Pipes, like water pipes,” Becket said, doing a passible impersonation of the COs voice.

“I didn’t realize I ordered you to give us a comedy routine, Beckett. You’re welcome to share that bit of knowledge with the major after we’re done here. Now stow it.”

A loud thud nearly knocked them from their feet. “They’ll breach the hull momentarily,” David said, steadying himself by holding onto the bulkhead. Working hard to ignore the panic building within, he tried to focus on his next action. Drill Instructor Salazar always said to solve one problem at a time.

“Let’s double back one passageway over.” Seeing bafflement in the others’ eyes, he explained, “It’s a choke point. They’ll have to push through that area to get to anything of importance. We’ll hold there until the Marines arrive.”

“Or we all get killed,” Beckett said, doubt in his voice.

Ignoring Beckett’s doubt, David led them to a junction between two passageways, an excellent defensive position. “Beckett, take the right.” He tried to convince himself the incoming League troops were nowhere near as tough as his drill instructor. If I survived Salazar, I can survive anything. “Munford, take the left.”

David crouched, shielding his body with the bulkhead and pointing the battle rifle down the corridor. “Remember, they’ll use cannon fodder to wear us down. Aim well, fire short bursts, and remember that the real challenge is what comes after them.”

“Isn’t anyone with a gun that’s trying to kill us a challenge, Corporal?” Munford said.

“Valid point. You know what I mean, though. They always hit us with green troops and reeducated prisoners first. We can do this, team.”

After holding their position for what seemed like an eternity, the first League troops appeared from behind another bulkhead. David took aim and squeezed the trigger of his rifle, just like he had been taught in basic training. Nothing happened. He froze as the two Leaguers brought their own rifles up and sent a volley of shots in his direction. The bullets smacked the walls of the corridor and the bulkheads, bouncing off the hardened alloy in a shower of sparks.

David cleared the mental block in his mind like the chamber of his rifle. He ducked back to cover as Beckett and Munford returned fire. While Munford opened up on full automatic with “pray and spray” tactics, Beckett carefully sighted down his weapon and squeezed the trigger once, putting a burst into the center mass of an onrushing enemy. As that soldier fell, the one behind tripped over the body, losing his balance and dropping the rifle he carried.

Quickly checking his weapon, David realized he hadn’t chambered a round. I can’t believe I made that kind of rookie mistake. He slid the action back on his weapon and heard the satisfying click of a bullet sliding in. Leaning out, he brought the rifle up and aimed at the remaining soldier, who was fumbling with a sidearm and squeezed the trigger. All three rounds from the burst hit the Leaguer center mass, and he flopped backward, landing on top of his fellow.

As the sound of gunfire subsided, David found himself stunned by the brutality of combat and the results of his actions. He’d never fired a weapon in anger before, let alone killed anyone. It took a moment to snap himself out of his funk and hit the communications panel on the wall. “This is damage control team fifteen, deck five, passageway 3B. We have engaged League boarders. Request Marine backup.”

“We should fall back, Corporal!” Beckett shouted, his voice breaking.

“Get it together, Private!” David barked, trying to project confidence though he felt anything but. “If we don’t hold here, the League gets full run of deck five. You know what that means!”

“They could take the engine room and jump the ship out,” Munford said.

“Exactly. I’m not interested in being a League POW the rest of my life. If they hold true to form, next we’ll be rushed by a human wave.”

“First guy up has a gun, second holds the ammo and the third carries on once we finish killing the front of the line?” Beckett said with a trace of mirth.

“That’s a myth.”

“Corporal, they’re coming,” Munford said, urgency in her voice breaking through the calm.

Incoming fire splattered against the bulkhead, pinging off the hard metal. David felt a searing pain on his leg and looked down, seeing red spreading out from a cut in his uniform pants. With the rush of adrenaline coursing through his body from the battle, the pain only lasted for a few moments.

“Return fire!” David shouted, leaning out and firing short bursts. He hit two more enemy soldiers, but this time, numerous other Leaguers followed them and charged towards his small squad. They advanced without any real tactics, moving forward in a human wave, one with extremely lethal weapons.

David pulled out the pulse grenade on his belt. I’ve only got one pulse grenade. They’ll overrun us if I don’t use it, so I better make it count. But we need more than just a grenade blast right now. He looked back into the junction, desperately searching for any advantage, anything they could use. Through the fog of the battle, his mind cleared and brought him an idea. The environmental controls!

“Beckett, there’s an artificial gravity control node right next to your leg. Open it up and reverse the polarity for the passageway directly in front of us.”

“But it’ll only last a couple of seconds before the safeties reset and lock us out, Corp.”

“We only need a few seconds. Now do it!”

Beckett reached down to the panel, opened it and fumbled around with something inside. “Got it, Corp!”

“Pulse, over!” David shouted, pulling the pin from the grenade before tossing it down the passageway. He waited for the imminent explosion with hands over ears, mouth open and eyes closed, hoping the other two did the same as they’d been trained. With the bang of the explosion, he threw himself back into the line of fire to see a most peculiar sight: a dozen enemy soldiers in a heap, collapsed on what was, to David and his team, the overhead.

While a few of the poorly trained League soldiers groped about in the heap of bodies, trying to stand up, most held their hands up to their faces, or fired blindly toward the bulkhead opening. David fired in bursts along with Munford and Beckett, targeting the few that still had their weapons first. Once those enemies were down, the three of them methodically felled the rest as they groped for fallen weapons and struggled to draw holstered sidearms. The bodies that lay beyond were too numerous to count.

In the lull of the combat, they exchanged glances. David’s hand shook, making it difficult for him to reload his weapon. He could hear the whine of the resetting artificial gravity generator that would flip the space beyond “right side up” again. Nice trick…while it lasted.

“I didn’t sign up for the Marines,” Munford said.

David couldn’t tell if she was being serious or trying to lighten the situation. “I don’t think any of us did,” he said, trying to focus on something, anything, except the bloody pile of bodies around the corner. “They’re going to hit us again any second now.” He peered toward the next bulkhead, looking for a sign they were coming.

“We’re out of grenades, Corporal. If they hit us again like that, we’re dead. We’ve got to pull back,” Beckett said.

“No. We hold until the Marines arrive.”

“Why? We’re not equipped for this! We’re a freaking damage control team, for the love of God!”

“Look, we don’t have many Marines on this tub. All of us are trained to repel boarders, just like we’re all trained to fight fires. Keep it together, Beckett. We can do this.”

“Aye aye, Corporal,” Beckett muttered, finally getting his rifle reloaded.

“Marines? I call them the Terran Coalitions misguided children,” Munford said.

I guess she was going for humor after all. For all the calm David portrayed, his mind was a roiling sea of fear that threatened to break free. He knew they likely wouldn’t survive another push, and was on the verge of ordering them to fall back when the communications panel beeped. “Damage control team fifteen, this is Sergeant Morrison. Are you still with us?”

David slapped the control. “Yes, Sergeant. Not sure for how long.”

“You must hold your position. League boarding parties are all over deck five, and if you let them get past you, they’ll flank our defense and overrun the section—maybe the ship. We’ll be there ASAP, but it’s all on you, Corporal Cohen. Can you do it?”

Without even thinking through what he was about to say, fire shone in David’s eyes. “We’ll hold, Sergeant. Whatever it takes.” He stepped back from the panel and eyed the other two. “Now we hold. No matter what.”

Beckett and Munford nodded grimly, courage, resolution and fear flooding their faces.

Seconds later, another wave of League troops surged forward, firing down the passageway. David saw terror and panic in the eyes of the soldiers that faced them, akin to his own, but they weren’t stopping. He realized bursts weren’t cutting it, and toggled his battle rifle to full auto. “Full auto!” he ordered, hoping the others head him clearly above the din of battle.

Holding down the trigger, fighting to keep the gun level rather than wasting its precious stopping power on the overhead, he emptied the magazine in one long burst. Beside him, he heard his fellows doing the same, sending dozens of rounds down the passageway in a storm of steel.

The carnage from going full auto broke the enemy assault. Twisted bodies lay on top of each other on the deck, some screaming in pain. The smell of propellent was thick in the air, as were spent shell casings scattered about the defenders.

When a big, bulky power-armored League Marine came into view behind more cannon fodder, David’s heart sank. Power armor, even the less effective League variant, was extraordinarily potent and made its wearer difficult to disable or kill. “Goliath! Aim for the upper body and head!”

Munford leaned out and sprayed the enemy formation with unaimed fire from her battle rifle. As it clicked dry, return fire from the Goliath’s directed energy weapon ripped into her arm, throwing her to the ground and bringing forth a grunt of pain.

“Beckett, when I fire, pull Munford back,” David yelled over the din of battle, reloading his rifle as he spoke. He was on his last magazine. He leaned to the right and opened fire, trying to distract the Goliath. Beckett grabbed Munford’s good arm and dragged her out of the passageway and the line of fire. “Get her to the rear and find a corpsman.”

“They’ll overrun you, David,” Munford said, trying to stem the flow of blood from her arm. Funny, she called me David, not Corporal. Probably the pain getting to her head.

“Yeah, Corp, we can’t leave you,” Beckett said.

“I’ll be all right. Get moving. She needs medical attention.” David fired blindly down the passageway as he spoke. “Now go!”

To cover their escape, David leaned back out and emptied his rifle into the Leaguers.

It almost worked.

Dragging her across the deck, Beckett had almost gotten Munford to safety when a stray energy beam caught him in the chest. He fell to the ground in a heap as Munford lay behind him, frozen in shock.

A moment later, she found the ability to flee, scrambling a few more feet to land behind the next bulkhead. Munford’s harsh grunts of effort echoed in David’s head, distracting him as he felt for his sidearm, knowing he was out of bullets for the rifle. With the practiced muscle memory of his training, he slipped the pulse pistol into his hand and brought it up while turning the energy setting to maximum. Firing through the bulkhead opening, he felled another Leaguer who made the mistake of blindly charging forward.

A stray bullet connected with David’s shoulder, sending him backward and causing searing pain to radiate through his body.

His pistol clattered to the deck.

He knew he was about to die.

Any moment now, the Goliath would crash into the junction, and even if David could kill him, there would be one coming right after the other until an enemy finally ended his life. His thoughts ran wild. I don’t want to die here… I never wanted to kill anyone! I cost Beckett his life. The last thought caused a wave of guilt that distracted him from the task at hand.

David forced himself to pick up the fallen sidearm, fighting through excruciating pain to aim at the bulkhead opening. Time slowed as the Goliath burst through the bulkhead, the immense armor suit even more foreboding at close range. He squeezed the trigger of the pistol. The energy beam connected with the Leaguer’s helmet, its weakest piece.

The heavy armor held as the Leaguer brought his own weapon up. He fired, sending a burst of rounds into David’s center mass, slamming into his thin body armor. More pain swept over him and his pistol jerked up as the beam finally penetrated the helmet and sliced through the enemy’s head. Little blood or human matter sprayed due to the cauterizing effects of the energy weapon.

David let go of the trigger, and the Goliath collapsed to the ground. He gasped, shocked he was still alive. The wind knocked out of him, he barely registered the curses and shouts from the remaining League troops. He was trying to force his body to comply with the mental command to raise the pistol once again, when shots poured down the passageway from behind him. For a moment he despaired, certain the enemy had flanked them, until he realized from the distinctive sounds of the weapon it was friendlies—the Marines had finally arrived! A group of six, heavily armed and armored, thundered into the passageway junction.

“Report, Corporal!” the lead Marine, Sergeant Morrison, yelled as they filed into ready positions, weapons up and searching for targets.

David couldn’t force a word out. He still reached for his sidearm, hands shaking, brain foggy. Morrison came over and shook his shoulder roughly. “Corporal!”

The loud word snapped David out of his trance. “My guys got hit. Beckett and Munford.” He pointed toward Beckett’s fallen body and the bulkhead Munford hid behind.

The sergeant spoke into his communicator. “I need corpsmen on deck five, passageway 3B, ASAP.” Taking in the scene, Morrison’s eyes widened. He looked back to David with surprise. “Damn, Corporal, you want to transfer to the Marines? There’s got to be thirty dead Leaguers out there—and you took out a Goliath to boot.”

Shock began to set in, and David shook uncontrollably.

“Corporal, are you wounded?” Morrison asked.

“I’m okay. Take care of Beckett and Munford first.”

Morrison knelt, putting his hands on the bullets sticking out of the armored vest over David’s chest. “Damn lucky, son. You’re going into shock. Lie still, okay? Help will be here soon. Your fight’s over for today.”

David nodded at Morrison without trying to reply. Taking in the death and destruction around him, he stared at the dead bodies of the Leaguers and back at his hands several times. What did I do? he thought. I…killed them.

Even though the commandment Thou shalt not murder didn’t really apply to war, it still roared into David’s mind with the punishing tone of an angry teacher. It was them or me. Does that make it okay? Eyes fixed on Becketts’s body, David focused on a traditional prayer for the dead. He whispered to himself, “God, filled with mercy, dwelling in the heavens heights, bring proper rest beneath the wings of Your Angels, amid the ranks of the holy and the pure, illuminating like the brilliance of the skies the souls of our beloved and our blameless who went to their eternal place of rest.”

Two corpsmen ran into the passageway carrying a medical bag, and a portable stretcher. One knelt next to David. “Corporal, can you hear me?”

“Privates Beckett and Munford need medical assistance before me.”

“He’s got a shoulder wound; looks like it went straight through. Leg abrasion consistent with a graze,” the corpsman beside him said. “Likely rib fractures from the bullets and possible internal bleeding.”

Out of the corner of his eye, David watched him check Beckett’s vitals. “This one’s dead,” the other corpsman said. One of them pressed an auto-injector against David’s neck. It stung for a second, then reality receded into a fog.

Drifting in and out of consciousness, David was aware of being placed on the stretcher and felt himself being carried down the passageway. “My team,” he said, his voice distant and slurred.

“Munford’s going to be fine, Corporal. Lie back and enjoy the ride,” one of the corpsmen said. Unconsciousness finally took him, followed by nightmares of being shot over and over again.

2

Thanks to Terran Coalition medical technology, physical wounds healed far faster than mental ones. Standing in the lobby outside of the counselor’s door, David felt a sense of trepidation. I really don’t want to do this, he thought to himself. But the sooner I get it done, the sooner I get back to my duties and finish my time. Then I can go home and never have to kill again.

After the battle, the Artemis had been rotated back to a military space station for repairs and replacement crewmembers. On light duty during his recovery from the physical wounds he’d sustained, David was ordered to see a counselor—which was the only reason he’d come.

Next to the door under the counselor’s nameplate was a button with a sign over it that read, “Please Press to Enter and Be Mindful of Others.” Under that sign was a nameplate marked Dr. Amy Ellison.

He hesitated for a long moment, debating just walking away. Finally, he pushed the button.

A moment later, the door opened and a petite woman in her mid-thirties with straight, short, natural blonde hair motioned David in. “Come in, Corporal Cohen!” the woman said in a bright and cheery voice.

Oh great. It had to be someone that’s bubbly and happy, he thought to himself as he tried to smile. Making his way into the small office, he sat down on a couch that had a pillow on it that proclaimed, “Prayer is the Answer!”

“I’m Doctor Amy Ellison. How are you doing today, Corporal?” she asked.

“I’m…okay, Counselor.”

“I’m not in the CDF, Corporal Cohen. There’s no need to be formal here. Please, call me Amy.”

“Yes, ma’am… Amy.”

“It’s been challenging to get you down here to talk to me,” she said, an easy grin showing.

“I… haven’t wanted to talk about what happened,” David said, his voice hesitant.

“Why not?”

David looked down. A voice inside his head screamed at him, Because you killed eight people!

“May I call you David?”

David looked back up and met her eyes. “Yes, ma’am.”

Amy leaned forward in her chair. “I see soldiers all day long that have been through a trauma such as you have. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, from what I’ve read in the after-action report, the commanding officer of your ship thinks you were directly responsible for preventing the League from gaining control of the Artemis.”

“I killed… I don’t know, at least eight people. Maybe more. I shot one in the head with a pulse pistol and watched the beam slice through his brain.”

“Eight people that were trying to kill you and the two crewmembers who were with you.”

“I look down at my hands now and see blood. I wanted to be a rabbi. I wanted to help people. How can I do that now? How can I do anything? I violated one of the Ten Commandments.”

Ellison sat back, a thoughtful expression on her face. “Why do you want to become a rabbi, David?”

“To minister to people, to help them learn. The word ‘rabbi’ means teacher after all. I wanted to do good.”

“I think there’s more to it than that. I think you want to make up for something.”

Wow. She’s good. “What do you mean?”

“Where were you on September 28th, 2533?”

September 28th, 2533 was one of those days that if you were alive during it and able to remember, you never forgot. It was the day that the League of Sol, a super-national entity that controlled Earth and many colony planets, invaded the Terran Coalition.

That was also the day my father left for the last time, David thought, his heart sinking.

“I was at home with my mother and father,” David whispered, tears forming in his eyes.

“Would you like to talk about it?” Ellison pressed.

David’s mind flashed back to that fateful day that would forever be burned into his mind. “I was eight. My father was on terminal leave from the CDF. He was a reservist with twenty years in service. He’d spent the previous two years on active duty to top off his retirement earnings. He loved us. He’d do anything to protect us. He was a good man.”

As he spoke to her, David’s mind wandered back to the night his father, Levi Cohen, died. In his childhood, David knew that his father was an officer. Later, he came to understand that he was a major in the Coalition Defense Force. David’s mother, Sarah, was a homemaker and a traditional Jewish wife. They lived in an Orthodox enclave on Canaan, where his father was stationed at the main Canaan space dock. Every morning, the family would rise together at five a.m. His father would go off to work, and his mother would drop off David at school. In the afternoon, she would pick him up after he’d finished with his after-school activities.

That night, raised voices coming from his parents’ bedroom was the first indication that something was amiss in the Cohen household. David recalled creeping down the hall to listen in on the conversation in his parents’ room.

“Sarah… I’ve got to do this. I’ll come home as soon as I can,” he heard his father say.

“I’m scared, Levi. I’m scared you won’t come home this time. What if it’s an invasion?” his mother said through sobs.

“Then we’ll hold the line. I’m not going out alone, that’s for certain. Let me finish getting dressed, and you go get David. I want to tell him goodbye before I leave.”

“The party tomorrow was going to be perfect.”

“Just postpone it a few hours, okay?”

“Okay,” Sarah said, her voice level once more.

David took the cue to run back into his room, busying himself with his tablet that contained learning games and a GalNet link. His mother came into the room, calling for him as she wiped her eyes. “David, come say goodbye to your father. He has to go to work.”

David put down his tablet and glanced at her, a confused expression on his face. “But I thought Dad was on leave for the next few weeks.”

Sarah shook her head. “He’s been recalled, so he’s got to go in. I’m sorry. I know you were looking forward to him being here for your birthday.”

David followed his mother as they both walked into the bedroom, where his father fussed with the rank pin on his collar.

Sarah laughed softly, then walked over to Levi and adjusted the pin.

“Thank you, dear,” he said, a twinkle in his eye.

“You can never seem to get that pin right for all the trouble it caused you to earn it,” his mother said with a hint of a smile on her face.

His father looked over at David and motioned for him to come over. “Son, I’m sorry. I have to take command of a ship for the next few days.”

David sat down on the bed. “You’re retired, though. Why are they calling you now?” he asked with a baffled expression on his face.

Levi gave Sarah’s hand a squeeze, then walked over and sat down next to David and pulled him into his lap. “Because I’m not quite out of the military yet. I’m still under orders, son, so I’ll go where I am told and do what I need to do.”

David looked up at his father’s eyes. “Why you, Dad? Aren’t there others they can call instead?”

Levi paused for a moment. “I swore an oath son. Sure, there’s others, but they called on me, so I’ve got to go. David, listen to me. I know you’re young, and I know this is hard to understand.”

David’s eyes glistened with tears as he thought about his father being away yet again. It seemed like he never saw him anymore.

“Son, there are some things, like our freedoms, the right to say what we want, do what we want, worship God in the way that we want… Those are all things that we have had to fight for and must continue to fight for.”

Sarah inhaled sharply as David began to cry. “Dad, are you going to die?”

Levi smiled and patted his head. “No, son.” He looked toward Sarah. “Why don’t we take our picture for the album?”

At the time, David didn’t realize why, but he knew that every time his father went out on deployment, they took a family picture. Little did he know, it was so that there would always be something to remember him by in case he did not make it home.

After taking the picture, Sarah and David followed Levi to the front door.

Levi set his space-bag down by the door and turned to hug David. “Take care of your mother, son. You’re the big man of the house while I’m gone.”

Levi stood and turned to kiss Sarah. “I love you. I’ll see you all very soon,” he said as he turned to walk down the drive, glancing down at David as he turned to walk away.

“Godspeed, Levi,” Sarah said as Levi walked toward his helicar.

Watching his father walk down the path toward the driveway filled David with both pride and overwhelming sadness. David took off running as his father got to his car. “Dad! Dad!” he shouted.

Levi turned around as David stood as tall as he could at the front of the path, holding his hand to his brow in the best imitation of his father’s salutes as he could. His father saw him, and as his face broke into a grin, Levi brought his hand to his brow in a crisp, practiced motion. Snapping his hand down, Levi turned away and climbed into his helicar. Moments later, it took off and flew into the night. David stood in the path, looking up at the sky as he tried to see his father’s car.

David eventually went back inside and found his mother, who tried to act normal and go about getting ready for the next day.

“Mom, is Dad going to be okay?” he asked her as he plopped down on the couch next to her.

“Of course he is. Your father is as stubborn as you are,” Sarah said, playfully tousling his hair. “Now you have school tomorrow, young man. Go brush your teeth, say your prayers, and let’s get ready for bed.”

“Yes, ma’am!” David slid off the couch and went to the bathroom to do as his mother instructed. After brushing his teeth, David stood beside his bed and said his bedtime prayers in Hebrew as he had been taught. “Lie us down, Adonai our God, in peace; and raise us up again, our Ruler in life. Shield us; remove from us every enemy pestilence, sword, famine, and sorrow. Remove all adversaries from before us and from behind us, and shelter us in the shadow of Your wings. For You are our guarding and saving God, a gracious and compassionate God and King. Guard our going out and our coming in for life and peace, now and always. God, please protect my father. Please guard him, please bring him home safely.” Tears running down his face, he climbed into bed and quickly fell fast asleep.

David was jerked out of sleep to the sound of sirens wailing. He glanced at the clock next to his bed; it read 4 a.m.

“Mom!” he screamed as he crawled out of bed to run to his parents’ room. “Mom! What’s going on?”

His mother sat on the side of the bed as she rubbed her eyes to wake up. “Calm down, little man,” she said. “Let’s go turn on the holonet and see if there’s any news, okay?”

David, even though a young child, still recognized when his parents were worried. His mother tried hard not to show it, as every good parent did, but this time, her hands trembled, her face was tight, and her voice was high-pitched as she tried to conceal the concern that weighed on her heart.

“Yes, Mother.” David obediently followed her to the living room as she turned on the holonet projector and changed the address to Canaan News Network. The projector quickly turned on, and the set of the news program filled half of the living room as if they were there in the studio watching the announcers.

“And we’re going to go live to President Nolan, ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer said as sound from the holonet projector filled the room. Jason Nolan was the President of the Terran Coalition, the super-national government of their republic.

The holoprojector switched to show the interior of an office, in which President Nolan was seated behind a desk. “Citizens of the Terran Coalition,” he said, beads of sweat dotting his forehead. David remembered vividly how scared the man looked. It was something he’d never seen before.

“This morning, we were attacked by an enemy that had been long since forgotten. Earth and the World Society have returned. We believe they are calling themselves the League of Sol, and over a thousand starships from the League’s military have attacked our capital. Those of you on Canaan have been warned by the emergency warning system reserved for major natural disasters, and I urge all citizens to remain in your homes. Do not go outside; do not get into your helicars. If you are a member of the Canaan militia, report to your muster station. Otherwise, stay inside. I know that citizens around the Terran Coalition and her member planets have many questions, and that fear is gripping us all as I speak these words.”

David had learned in school that humans had escaped from Earth after losing a war against nations who called themselves the World Society that wanted to stamp out religious belief and institute a communist system of government in the late twenty-first century. Over a hundred years after the initial refugees found the world of Canaan and established it, humans from that settlement began to spread out.

Nolan paused for a moment and took a drink of water. “But rest assured that the Coalition Defense Force is prepared and ready to meet any threat. As we speak, they are holding the line against the League’s attack while reinforcements from all nation-state militaries are proceeding at best possible speed to Canaan. As soon as we are able, we will brief the press on the exact events, but as this battle is currently being waged, I cannot go into more detail. At this point in time, I would like to ask everyone on Canaan and in the Terran Coalition to pray for the safety our service members fighting the League, for victory against them, and for God to protect the Terran Coalition in this dire hour.”

Three hundred years after the landfall on Canaan, there were now dozens of human-controlled planets within the Terran Coalition. Each planet had its own government, constitution, military, and cultural customs. There was also an overarching constitution and government that handled external matters and policed disputes between the planets that made up the Terran Coalition. David’s family was from the planet of New Israel; since Levi was stationed on Canaan, however, his family lived planet-side on Canaan.

David looked at his mother, who watched with rapt attention, her eyes wide and mouth open. “Our republic has overcome much in its history. We will not fall now, and we will not surrender. Regardless of what happens today, we will fight on. For now, may God bless you, and may God continue to bless the Terran Coalition.”

* * *

“The crazy thing is, I can repeat that speech Nolan gave, almost verbatim, it was so seared into my mind,” David said. “We sat there for an hour watching the holoprojector, until my mother made me do my schoolwork.”

“I was nineteen and in college the day it happened. I’ll never forget sitting around the holo with a bunch of classmates, shaking with fear, crying, trying to reach our parents. It took weeks for life to return to any kind of normalcy.”

“I’m not sure our lives every really returned to normal.”

“Why?” Ellison asked.

“It started when they came to tell us Dad had died.”

* * *

David thought back to how they had watched another news broadcast that announced the Terran Coalition’s victory over the League forces. After it had finished, he looked to his mother.

“But what about Dad?” David asked, tears welling up in his eyes.

Sarah held him in her arms. “He’s going to be fine, David. Let’s pray for him, and then we’ll fix lunch together, okay?”

David nodded somewhat lamely and hugged his mother back. “Okay, Mom.”

The two of them made lunch, and the holonet projector remained off. As they sat down to the table to eat, a chime sounded throughout the house while a computerized voice announced, “You have a visitor at the front entryway.”

Sarah glanced at the door with hesitation. “Stay here, David,” she said to him, walking out of the dining room and into the foyer to open the front door. Disobeying, David trailed behind and watched with bated breath as she opened the door. Standing under the entryway were two CDF soldiers, both wearing what David recognized as dress uniforms. As soon as Sarah opened the door and processed what was happening, she screamed, “No! No! No! No!” as she fell into a chair by the front door.

David rushed to her, not sure what was going on. Sarah grabbed David and pulled him to her, trying to cover his ears so he could not hear them.

“Mrs. Cohen, I regret to inform you that your husband, Major Levi Cohen, was killed in action,” the soldier on the right said. As he spoke, his voice broke and tears rolled down his face; the other soldier, who had the payes, or curled sidelocks of a rabbi, had tears in his eyes as well.

“No….” Sarah’s voice trailed off. Finally, she looked up. “How?” she asked, unable to finish her question.

“The ship your husband commanded was destroyed in combat, ma’am,” the soldier on the right said. “May we come in?”

Numbly, Sarah nodded and stood to close the door behind the two men. The two soldiers joined Sarah in the living room after she sent David to his room. For the next few minutes, the soldiers attempted to console her with little success. Unable to give her the information she so desperately wanted, the two eventually departed after the rabbi prayed with them.

That afternoon, Sarah made several holocalls once she could compose herself. Friends of the family began to arrive, along with the rabbi of the synagogue their family had attended. As there was no body, there was also no funeral service, per Jewish law. The next morning, David helped his mother to prepare for shiva, the traditional Jewish mourning period of seven days. He couldn’t quite understand why his dad wasn’t coming home. At night, he cried out to God, asking Him why his father couldn’t have been spared. When news reports had started to name Levi, Sarah would always turn them off, but David had gone online and found that his father’s ship had rammed the League flagship leading the invasion. That was even harder for him to accept, the idea that his father chose to leave them.

A few days into the shiva period, there was a visitor that David didn’t recognize. He was a tall, striking CDF soldier who radiated pride in his dress uniform. As he entered the home and introduced himself to David’s mother, David observed that he wore the flag of the Saudi Arabian state on his uniform.

“Mrs. Cohen,” the man said in a deep baritone voice. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am First Lieutenant Issa El-Amin. I served with your husband during the battle of Canaan onboard the CSV Salamis.”

Sarah teared up as he spoke. “Thank you for coming, Lieutenant,” she said, her voice breaking.

“Levi asked me to visit you and your son. He asked me to tell you how much he loved you both.” Sarah sobbed as El-Amin continued to speak. “I know my words are of little comfort, but he felt he had to do what he did to save you, to save us all.”

David looked at El-Amin. “What did he do?”

El-Amin’s gaze shifted to David. “Your father saved us all. In all my years, I’ve never seen a braver or more selfless act. He knew what would happen when he rammed that butcher’s ship, and yet, he still did it.”

David had cried so much, he didn’t have many more tears in him, but at the description of his father’s death, he and Sarah cried again. “You should be proud of him. You will see him again in paradise, Inshallah,” El-Amin said, finishing with a traditional Arabic expression for “God willing.”

Sarah took Issa’s hands in hers and gripped them. “Thank you for coming to tell me this.”

El-Amin bowed his head. “It was my honor and privilege. Almashi mae Allah…walk with God.”

After a few minutes, El-Amin took his leave of them. Sarah, David, and the rest of the family continued to sit shiva. After seven days, shiva ended; the friends that came went back to their normal lives. David and his mother slowly began to continue on. There was no normal; the pain didn’t disappear. Thirty days after his father’s death, the rabbi held a memorial service. At Sarah’s insistence, it was not a major event, only a small gathering held at the family’s synagogue.

* * *

David looked back up at Ellison with a sigh. “I’m not sure I’ll ever get over losing him. Throughout my childhood, all I ever heard was that my father was a hero, that he was an incredible man. I just wanted him back. I wanted to see him walk down our driveway, pick me up one more time, watch my parents embrace one more time.” As he spoke, tears streamed down his face.

“David, you have some seriously unresolved trauma from your childhood. Would you consider working with me? We could have sessions remotely once you go back to the front.”

“I’m not sure it’s the right thing for me… I’m a man now. I need to act like it,” David said.

“Please? There’s nothing wrong with having to deal with your emotions. It will help you in the long run, I promise.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Okay. Our time is up for today, but I will put an appointment on your schedule for next week.”

David quickly stood; he wanted to get out of the office and away from this counselor as fast as he could. I hate thinking about all the pain. Better to just bury it and move on, he thought.

“Thank you, Amy,” he said with a forced smile.

“Of course, David. I hope I’m able to help in some way.”

David nodded. “Good day,” he said and walked out of the office as rapidly as he could.

3

A week later, repairs on the Artemis were finally completed, and the ship was back under way. In the three weeks she had been away from the carrier battle group she was assigned to, the fighting in her patrol sector had died down, leaving David with time to deal with his thoughts. More than once, he woke up in the middle of the night during a nightmare, hitting his head on the rack above him. He experienced the battle over and over in his mind, reliving killing the League soldiers and the death of Beckett. As the nightmares got to David more and more, he decided to have another session with Amy.

I should just be able to move on, David thought as he sent a communication to the email address Amy had left him, requesting a session. I am so ashamed of myself.

A couple of days after sending the message, he had a session time set up and secured use of a private room on the Artemis. Sitting down at the small desk in the cramped room, David reluctantly engaged the video link. Ellison’s smiling face appeared on the tablet he held a moment later.

“David, how are you today?”

“I’m okay, Counselor.”

“David, this is not a formal setting.”

“I apologize. I’m used to having to address everyone formally,” David said as he cracked a small smile.

“I’m glad you decided to continue our discussion. I want to help you get through the trauma you’ve experienced.”

I will be fine…I don’t need help, ran through David’s mind. “Where do we start?” he asked, working to ignore the thoughts in his head.

“Last time we spoke, you told me about your father’s passing. What happened after that? How did you deal with the pain?”

“After we had the memorial service for my father— as there was no body, we couldn’t have a funeral under Jewish law— I tried to bury my emotions. In time, the pain faded. I put my focus into my studies at the Hebrew school I attended.”

“I’m sure you received a lot of unwanted attention after what happened.”

“I heard hundreds, thousands of times, what a hero my father was. My classmates revered me. I wanted nothing to do with it.”

“Why not?”

David paused, trying to force his innermost thoughts out. “I just wanted my dad back. I wanted a normal life with my family. Instead, we have day in, day out, year in, year out war. For the last eleven years, I’ve watched it all play out. There were times it looked like the League was going to beat us, but we clawed our way back. There were times it looked like we would win, but the League just kept coming. They blather on with propaganda about how they want to free us from our superstitions. I may be just nineteen, but I’m smart enough to know a pile of crap when I see it.”

“You sound very passionate about that, David. I don’t quite understand how you can feel so strongly, yet I read in your file that you attempted to obtain a conscientious objector deferment to the draft?”

“Amy,” he said, invoking her name to emphasize his point, “I have no objection to serving my country. It’s my duty. I just didn’t want to kill people. Do you have any idea how easy it was to kill those League soldiers? I squeezed the trigger on a weapon, and they fell over like bowling pins. It shouldn’t be that simple. It shouldn’t be easy. I just wanted to do my duty, and then follow my calling in life to become a rabbi.”

“You can still do that, David. You just have to forgive yourself. You did nothing wrong; you defended yourself and the two soldiers under your command.”

“Not well enough. Private Beckett is dead. On my watch. Under my command.”

“So you blame yourself for his death as well?”

“Yes. I shouldn’t have tried to be a hero.”

“Major Pipes believes you saved his ship.”

“Good for him.”

Amy paused for a moment. “What do you want, David?”

“I want to be a man of peace. I want to try, in some small way, to make this universe a better place.”

“I might say that you made the universe a better place by saving Major Pipes’ ship.”

David closed his eyes for a moment. “Then why do I wake up seeing those dead Leaguers in my dreams at night?”

“Because most of us aren’t equipped to handle killing our fellow humans in close quarters without it causing significant emotional trauma. And those it doesn’t affect tend to have some form of mental disorder that prevents them from being in touch with their feelings.”

David shook his head. “Right now, I almost wish I had one of those disorders.”

“Trust me, you don’t.” Amy smiled before asking her next question. “What about boot camp? What happened to you once you were denied the draft deferment?”

“I took the oath…” David said, his mind trailing off to remember the day after his eighteenth birthday when he attended the ceremony to take the CDF Oath of Service. He’d known for years that the draft was coming as it had been enacted when he was thirteen years old. Thinking back to his vow to become a rabbi, he stood in line with dozens of other young men and women, patiently waiting for the sergeant-at-arms to start the ceremony.

* * *

“Good afternoon, recruits. We are gathered here today as you take your first steps to becoming young soldiers in the Coalition Defense Force. Each of you has passed your entry physical exam, been provided with a military occupation, and received your orders to basic training. Now raise your right hand and repeat after me.”

David raised his right hand and repeated the oath as directed. “I, David Cohen, do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the Terran Coalition against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same, and that I will obey the orders of the President of the Terran Coalition and the orders of the officers appointed over me, according to regulations and the Uniform Code of Military Justice. So help me God.”

With the oath behind him, David was a soldier. He spent one more night at home with his mother, who, with the pride of a military mother, threw a party to see him off, but David’s heart lacked the pride that his mother’s held. As he’d just graduated from secondary school, he didn’t feel ready to go away for four years, but he knew that it was his duty to do so, as so many had fought before him.

After pulling up to the recruit training center for the CDF on Canaan the next day, David stepped onto the transport craft packed with sixty young men and women. Little was said amongst the recruits on the hours-long journey from the city to the military base as the young adults all waited with naïve eagerness for what would happen next. It was early the following morning when the transport craft pulled into the docking bay.

A drill instructor in a crisply pressed uniform, one who didn’t seem fazed by the time of morning, stormed onboard. “Let’s go! Let’s go! Move it! Get off my transport, ladies! Sleep time is over! Welcome to the CDF!”

David awkwardly stood and made his way forward with the rest of the teenagers, falling into their first formation as directed by the drill instructors. Once in formation and separated, men on one side and women on the other, a tall, burly drill instructor stood in front of the formations. The recruits stood at attention simply out of fear and awaited their next command, trying not to be last or too slow.

“Attention, recruits! Welcome to recruit training station Lancaster. This is where you will become trained soldiers of the CDF.”

The drill instructors paced between the ranks of recruits looking for someone to flinch, to remove a hair from their face, or scratch an itch. David stood motionless like a mannequin, trying not to attract attention.

“Staff Sergeant! Did you tell this recruit he could yawn?” a drill instructor asked, regarding the heavyset teenager standing in the front of the formation.

“Absolutely not!” the big man in front barked.

“Recruit… do you need a nap?” the drill instructor screamed at the scared recruit next to David.

“Uh, no, sir!”

“Drop down and give me ten pushups, recruit!”

The teenager fell to his knees, but had trouble getting through the pushups required. After five, he lay in the dirt.

“Oh, look here. Momma’s fat biscuit-eater is out of shape. Keep pushing, recruit!”

After a moment, the recruit finished out the pushups and was roughly returned to his place in line.

“As I was saying,” the drill instructor said, “when we tell you to, you will pick up your belongings, file off, starting with the front row, and go straight into the room to your right. Women, to the left. The drill instructor at the front of the room will provide you further instruction. File off!”

With that command, each recruit picked up their belongings and quickly followed in the person to their right to complete processing. Everyone was fitted for camouflage fatigues, and as that occurred, their civilian clothes were packed in their bags, tagged and gathered. Finally, heads were shaved, and they were organized into companies.

As David went through each section of processing, an array of thoughts flooded through him. My father chose to do this. Did he know what he was in for?

It took several hours to get through all of the processing stations. By the time he finished, David just wanted to go home. God, please help me get through this, he kept repeating to himself. Finally, the recruits were reassembled and David sat with one hundred and sixty others, with a shaved head and poorly fitting fatigues, listening to the senior drill instructor introduce himself.

“Sit up straight! Stop slouching! Act like soldiers!” A short, brutally imposing man with a nametag that read “Salazar” said at the top of his lungs in a raspy voice. To David, it seemed like the man had been doing this his entire adult life.

“Sir, yes, sir!” the company responded in a completely non-cohesive manner.

“My name is Staff Sergeant Macro Salazar. I am your senior drill instructor. My mission is to train you maggots to become soldiers in the Coalition Defense Force.” Salazar thundered. “A soldier in the Coalition Defense Force is a person who possesses the highest of virtue, obeys lawful orders, shows respect to his fellow soldiers and seniors, and strives to be the absolute best at anything he attempts. Spirit, discipline, and courage are at the core of everything that he does!”

Salazar strolled around the bay as he spoke. “Each of you may earn the right to be called a soldier, and I will give everything of myself to train you, even after you give up on yourself. From now on, I will be with you every single day, everywhere you go, and I will instruct you on how to do everything that you need to learn to be a soldier in the Coalition Defense Force.”

Pausing for a moment, Salazar turned toward them and glared. “I have told you what I will do for you. Now I will tell you what I expect from you. No one will quit, You will give one hundred percent of yourselves at all times. You will obey all orders quickly and without hesitation. You will never give up. Do these things, and you may earn the title of Coalition Defense Force soldier. Now stand up!”

Jumping to his feet with the rest of the recruits, David marched in place as he was instructed.

“Attention on deck! Right face! Forward, march, recruits!”

With that, the recruits halted, turned to the right, and filed out of the bay with the drill instructors barking orders at them from the top of their lungs.

* * *

As David finished relating the memory to Ellison, she looked genuinely sympathetic. “I was too old to be called up when the draft was instituted, David… I don’t have a frame of reference for it.”

“Boot camp itself wasn’t that bad. It was what happened when the drill instructors found out who my father was… I was an easy target,” David said.

“How did you cope with that?” Ellison asked.

“By trying to stay off their radar as much as I could.”

“Could you tell me about it?”

David thought back to his first drill formation, standing at attention outside of the recruit barracks.

* * *

Salazar’s voice as he walked down the line of recruits flooded back into David’s mind. “And why did you join the Coalition Defense Force?” he asked in his raspy voice.

“I was drafted, sir!”

“You were drafted…you didn’t volunteer? Do you not want to serve your country?”

“Sir, I do want to serve my country, sir!” David responded with confidence.

“Are you contradicting me, recruit?”

“Sir, no, sir!”

“Are you confused, recruit? Because you did contradict me!”

A female recruit behind David snickered at his predicament. Salazar immediately turned his attention to her. “Do you think I’m funny, recruit?”

“Sir, no, sir!” she shouted.

“Drop down and give me twenty-five!”

The teenager dropped down into position and counted off her twenty-five push-ups.

“One, two, three, four,” she said, laboring harder with each rep.

Once completed, the young recruit ran back into formation as Salazar returned his ire to David. “Now, do you want to serve your country?”

“Sir, yes, sir!” David shouted back.

“Do you think you’re special? Did your daddy fly his ship into the side of a League battleship or something?”

“Sir, I don’t think I’m special, but my father did fly his ship into the side of a League battleship, sir!”

Salazar stared at him for a second. “Well, no shit,” he said, momentarily taken off guard. “So you’re that David Cohen?”

“Sir, yes, sir!”

“You do think you’re special, then! Drop down and give me fifty pushups, recruit!”

As David dropped to the ground to do the pushups, he saw the smirk on Salazar’s face. Oh great. Ten weeks of this guy busting my balls because of my father. That’s just awesome.

Fifty painful pushups later, David finished the count and Salazar ordered him to his feet. “I’ve got my eye on you, maggot. Back in line!”

Walking down the line of recruits, he stopped in front of another young woman. “And why are you here?”

“To, uh, figure out my life path, sir!” she got out nervously.

“Do I look like a life guide to you, recruit? Do I look like your mommy?”

“Sir, no, sir!”

“Lucky for you, I am a life guide! I will lead; you will follow! You will do exactly as I instruct you at all times. Do you understand me, recruit?”

“Sir, yes, sir!”

“I don’t think you do! Drop down and give me twenty-five pushups!”

Walking back around to the front of the line, Salazar continued his monologue. “Now give me a battle cry!”

The body of recruits yelled out a cry that was mostly ineffectual. “That was pathetic!” Salazar barked. “Sergeants! Give them a proper demonstration of a CDF battle cry!”

The two drill instructors picked an unlucky recruit to scream at in both his ears. “Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaagh!” they shouted at the top of their lungs.

“Now try it again, recruits!” Salazar said.

Again, the recruits screamed out a cry much louder than the last, but nowhere near what the two drill instructors had managed.

“It’s still pathetic! You wouldn’t scare a small dog with that noise. Never mind, I’ll fix that in the next ten weeks, and I will turn you filthy civilians into lean, mean fighting machines. Now fall in. We’re going for a run, ladies!”

* * *

Ellison laughed as David finished retelling the story of his first drill formation. “Your drill instructor sounds like…well, a colorful character, David.”

David laughed with her. “The truth is, even though at first I couldn’t stand him, by the end of the ten weeks, I had grown to respect Staff Sergeant Salazar greatly. In fact, I doubt I’d be alive today if I hadn’t been given the training I received at his direction.”

“I’m glad the experience ended up being positive for you, then.”

“Me too.”

“I’m afraid we’re almost out of time.”

“Communications credits do come at a premium these days,” David said. “Thank you. Just talking about all this does make it somewhat better.”

“Good. Let’s do it again soon, then.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Amy,” she reminded him with a smile.

“Yes, Amy.”

“God bless, and Godspeed, David.”

“Godspeed.”

4

The following week, David was cleared to return to full duty. His presence had been requested by the commanding officer of the Artemis, Major Pipes. David had been told he was up for a commendation for his performance during the boarding action, but inside, he didn’t want the recognition. Walking up to the hatch to the CO’s office, he knocked on the rim, as it was open.

“Come in, Corporal!” boomed Pipes.

David walked into the office and braced to attention. “Corporal David Cohen, reporting as ordered, sir!”

“At ease, Corporal. Take a seat.”

Across from the major, David sat ramrod straight in the nearest chair and locked his eyes forward. Retreating to what he had learned in boot camp seemed to provide some comfort.

“Corporal, I wanted to speak with you earlier, but I was asked to wait awhile until you were cleared by the counselor. How’re you doing?”

David furrowed his brow. That was a loaded question, but he sensed Major Pipes had genuine concern for his wellbeing. “I’m…okay, sir.”

“Killing someone, even the enemy, isn’t an easy thing, son,” Pipes said, a look of concern on his face.

“No, sir, it’s not. I never wanted to kill another person. I just wanted to do my duty for four years, and then continue my religious studies.”

“Ah yes.” Pipes nodded to the flag of New Israel on David’s uniform shoulder. “Orthodox, yes?”

David nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Corporal, I can’t imagine what it must have been like for you to find out what your father did for the Terran Coalition. I understand you feel the best path for you is to be a rabbi, but I’d like you to consider the possibility of a different calling in life.”

David raised an eyebrow. “Sir?”

“You have clear command ability, son. Even though you lack advanced training in small arms combat, your first instinct was to rush to the sound of the guns. Furthermore, once there, you made the right calls throughout the engagement.”

David looked away. “With respect, sir, I had no business trying to fight off a League boarding party. I don’t know what was going through my head. I don’t know why I made the choices I did. I guessed, and my guesses cost a good man his life. He’ll never go home. He was under my command. It was my job to keep him safe.”

Pipes leaned forward in his chair. “Corporal, I can see all over your face that you blame yourself for what happened. You can’t do that. The League is the reason Private Beckett is dead. Let me tell you something… if you really guessed your way through that engagement, then I’m even more impressed because you innately made the right calls.”

David forced himself to look back at Pipes. “Thank you, sir, but I’m struggling to make peace with the fact that I killed a bunch of people. It shouldn’t be so easy to do that. It’s not right.”

Pipes stood up from behind his desk and walked around it to sit down next to David. “No, it’s not right. But it’s something that soldiers like us have to deal with. It follows us around and it’s a constant companion.”

“How do you make peace with it, sir?”

“You don’t, and if you ever become okay with killing someone else, then something very wrong has happened to you. It’s supposed to hurt; it’s supposed to be painful. But if we don’t kill them, they’ll kill us. And after they do, they’ll kill our wives, our mothers, our families, and our children. So we stand on the line and ensure it doesn’t happen.”

Pipes put his hand on David’s shoulder. “Son, you’ve got a gift to command. You’re good at this, better than many others I have seen in my career. If you’d like, I’ll sponsor you for officers’ candidate school. We need more people like you out here or we won’t win this war.”

David shook his head. “I’m sorry, sir. I have no desire to be an officer, nor to continue in the CDF after I have completed my required service.”

Pipes nodded, a small frown evident on his face. “I understand, son. If that should change, I’d be glad to recommend you at any time. I have something else for you.” He paused for a moment, stood up, and retrieved a case from his desk. “Please stand, Corporal.” Once David stood, he snapped the medal case open and showed it to David. “I am pleased to award you the Bronze Star with the V device for your actions in defense of this ship.” After closing the case, he handed it to David. “We’ll hold a formal ceremony later, but I wanted you to have this.”

“Thank you, sir,” David said, unable to really say anything else.

“If you change your mind, you know where to find me, Corporal,” Pipes said, his easy smile returned.

“Yes, sir.”

“Carry on, Corporal.”

David stood quickly and braced to attention. “Yes, sir!”

David took his time walking back to his bunk, wrestling with the CO’s offer. What if he was good at being a soldier? That thought haunted him. He didn’t want to be good at killing people. I know my calling is to be a rabbi, he thought, looking up at the top of his bunk. What if Major Pipes is right?

David turned over and tried to go sleep, but found no rest.

* * *

The next few months passed quickly for David on board the Artemis. He’d returned to his duties and split time between damage control and backup helm operator. Focusing on his responsibilities and with a couple more sessions with Amy, he was able to work through the emotional toll of his first combat encounter. Over time, the nightmares faded, and he returned to some level of normalcy. The conversation he had with Major Pipes, however, refused to leave his mind. He lay awake many nights in his bunk, thinking over his choices in life.

The ship’s alarm klaxon blared, jerking David out of his thoughts. “Attention, all hands, this is the commanding officer. Man your battle stations! I say again, man your battle stations!” The voice of Major Pipes rang out from the ship’s intercom.

Jumping out of his bunk, David made his way to his assigned damage control station, where Rachel Munford already waited for him.

“Ready to go, Munford?” David asked as he pulled the fireproof hood to his suit down and over his head.

Munford nodded. “Yes, Corporal. Ready to go.” Munford’s wounds had healed, though David knew she was still greatly affected by Beckett’s death, even more so than David.

The first few minutes of the engagement passed with nothing more than some shocks and rumbles. Both David and Munford were knocked off their feet when the ship took a sudden major hit. The intercom on David’s personal communicator chimed.

“This is the bridge. We need damage control teams and medical staff immediately,” shouted a voice David didn’t recognize.

David glanced at Munford. “We’re only one deck down. Let’s get up there and try to help.”

She nodded in return. “Aye, aye, Corporal.”

They both made their way to the bridge as fast as possible. The two sentries that normally stood watch were trying to open the hatch, but it was stuck hard. Using the specialized tools they carried, David and Munford pried the doors open and stepped through.

Before him, David saw a perfect storm of destruction. The XO’s chair had a beam lying across it, pinning the woman it contained to the seat. Several stations were destroyed, and a fire crackled in one of the substation control units. He surveyed the situation methodically, as he had now done many times. “Munford, help me get this beam off of her.” he said, rushing to the XO.

Grunting, they picked up the beam and lifted it off the chair, revealing the trauma sustained by the collapse. David knelt, feeling for a pulse, but they were too late. Looking at Munford, he shook his head. Performing the same duty on Major Pipes, he was relieved to find that while the major had been knocked unconscious, his pulse was strong and steady.

David put his commlink to his mouth and spoke into it. “This is Corporal Cohen on the bridge. We still need medical personnel immediately and additional damage control teams. All bridge officers are incapacitated. We need someone to come take command here.”

Looking back around the bridge, David heard a cry for help coming from the navigation and helm station. Making his way over, he saw the ship’s navigator, Second Lieutenant Naomi Caldwell, a woman that he had met several times before. She struggled to stand with a piece of shrapnel lodged in her chest.

“Lieutenant, hold still,” David said.

As David knelt beside her, Caldwell reached up and grabbed his arm. “Corporal, you have to get the ship to safety,” she said in her slight Afro-Caribbean accent, gasping for air.

“Let me help you…” David said, frantically scanning the room for the emergency medical kit panel.

“No! Forget me. Save this ship or we’ll all be dead,” she said as loud and as clear as she could. Just then, another round of weapon impacts underlined her point.

“What do I do?” David asked with panic in his voice as he glanced back toward Caldwell, caught between wanting to run away and doing his duty. He didn’t want to see yet another person die in front of him. He wasn’t sure if he could handle that again.

“The Lawrence drive is charged. You have to enter the coordinates and engage.”

“Where should we go?”

“Anywhere but here, Corporal,” Caldwell said. He took it as an attempt at gallows humor.

David cleared the debris away from the navigation console and stared at it. He had basic training in how to use the helm and navigation consoles but had never actually executed a Lawrence drive jump. He picked a space station near their location that he hoped would have medical and engineering personnel, and entered the coordinates into the navigation system. When the drive was ready a few seconds later, he engaged it.. Through the transparent metal windows directly to the front of the bridge, he watched in fasciation as the multi-colored maw of the artificial wormhole opened. While he’d seen them before in books and videos, there was something different about seeing it in person, a few kilometers away. Even in the middle of all this death and destruction, the beauty of God’s creation is all around us. The frigate rocketed forward, speeding through the tunnel between points in space and thanks to his lack of piloting skills, the ride was extremely rough.

Caldwell’s breaths became more labored as the ship exited the wormhole. “Are we safe, Corporal?” she whispered.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “Let me get help…”

As David turned to get the woman help, her eyes closed as her breathing slowly came to a stop. David sprang up and rushed to the panel of emergency supplies, fumbling to get it open as the medical personnel rushed into the bridge.

“The navigator is down...she needs medical treatment now!”

One of the medical technicians knelt beside Caldwell, feeling for her pulse and examining the wound in her chest. He used a portable defibrillation wand on her chest without effect. After a few more minutes of trying to revive her, he looked up. “I’m sorry, but she’s gone. There’s no coming back from that kind of a wound, Corporal.”

As the technician turned away to treat another member of the bridge crew who was still alive, David felt his knees go wobbly. He sat down on the chair next to the navigator’s body.

I’ve got to keep it together he thought, looking down at her lifeless form. For the second time in six months, David found himself saying the traditional prayer for the dead. Quietly, and in Hebrew, he recited it from memory. “God, filled with mercy, dwelling in the heavens heights, bring proper rest beneath the wings of Your Angels, amid the ranks of the holy and the pure, illuminating like the brilliance of the skies the souls of our beloved and our blameless who went to their eternal place of rest.”

Munford came up behind David, and said in a voice that was a whisper, “Corporal, are you okay?”

Snapped out of his thoughts, he looked up at her with anguish written on his face. “No…but we have a job to do.” He stood and forced one foot in front of the other. “Let’s get back to it.”

5

That night, David took a long shower, also known as a Hollywood shower by those in the CDF. The term traced back hundreds of years; to where, David wasn’t quite sure. It referred to taking a long shower while in space, as opposed to a space shower, in which you turned the water on for thirty seconds, turned it off, lathered up, and finally turned it back on again to rinse. His bunk was thankfully quiet and empty due to the rest of the men assigned to that berthing compartment being absent, finally giving him time to think. The idea of being a part of something larger than himself embodied the motto of the CDF, which was “Semper Paratus” or “Always Ready.” If he was being honest with himself, it appealed to him.

Lying in his bunk, he pondered over and over. What do I owe the Terran Coalition? Do I owe it anything? Does everyone have a duty to stand up for the freedoms we’ve received and fight against evil?

Finding no solace, he decided to place a real-time comm call to a friend from boot camp, Sheila Thompson. It would cost his entire comm time ration for the next three months, but he had to talk to someone, and his mother wasn’t the right person to have this conversation with. As he reached for his tablet his mind thought back to boot camp, where he met Sheila three days into the ten-week ordeal.

* * *

David was in the middle of doing his laundry when a girl walked up to him as she washed her own clothes. He’d seen her a few times but hadn’t spoken to her.

“David Cohen, right?” she asked.

David stared at her. “Who’s asking?”

“Look, I’ve seen you getting yelled at and PTed a lot the last few days. I thought you might want some advice.”

David relaxed just a tad. “Well, I am tired of being yelled at. What’s your advice?”

“The first thing is…lose the chip off your shoulder. It’s big enough that you’re visibly weighted down by it.”

David’s shoulders went forward, and his face tightened into a snarl. “What are you talking about?”

“See? That. You’re proving my point. I get it, your dad was the hero. You probably hate being reminded about it. But you can’t show it. Right now, you do just enough to stay on the drill instructor’s radar and he’s going to pound you into the ground until you quit pissing him off. There are plenty of people that are going to screw up far worse than you here…let them do it and lie low.”

The girl’s words made sense to David. “How do you know all this? Is your dad a big shot in the CDF?”

“My parents are lawyers. They don’t even want me here.”

David raised an eyebrow. “That’s interesting. What’s your name?”

“Sheila. Sheila Thompson.”

David extended his hand. “David Cohen, nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Sheila said as she took her dry clothes out of the dryer and began to fold them. “You don’t seem to be very excited to be here.”

“I’m not. I want to be done with my enlistment, do my duty to the Terran Coalition, and then I’m going to go off and become a rabbi.”

“A rabbi?” she asked, her nose scrunching up as she made a silly face.

“You know, a teacher. A clergyman. Like a pastor for Christians or an imam for Muslims.”

“I know what a rabbi is. I didn’t grow up under a rock. I don’t understand why you’d want to be one.”

“Because I’ve no desire to kill people, Sheila. I’d rather try to teach them to be better.”

“Sometimes evil has to be opposed. When we’re up against a group as evil as the League, the only way to do that is by force of arms,” she said with conviction.

“I get that, but that person isn’t me. I’m going to do my duty; I owe the Terran Coalition a four-year stint. After that, I’m out. What about you?”

“I’m making a career out of it.”

“Why?” David asked.

“I might change my mind later, I suppose, but it’s what I feel I need to do with my life. My parents want me to go to law school, but I am completely uninterested in doing that.”

“You could be in the military and be a lawyer. That’s what the JAG Corps is, right?”

Sheila rolled her eyes. “I’m not joining the military to be a lawyer. I want to be on the sharp tip of the spear. I tried out for the flight academy, but I didn’t score high enough on CVAB. I only got seventy-fifth percentile.”

“Only.”

Sheila laughed. “You’re not half bad once you crawl out of that shell, Mr. Cohen.”

David smirked. “Do I look like an officer to you?”

“No, but I will be in a couple of years,” Sheila said with a grin.

“How’s that?”

“I already have my degree. I did most of it in high school and finished up the last year while on draft deferment. I want to serve as an enlisted soldier for two years, and then go to officers’ candidate school. Eventually, I want to command a starship.”

“I’d say you have it all planned out.”

“I think I do. But I doubt my plans will survive first contact with life.”

“So do you just sit around reading books about the military? Because I recognized that one. Some general once said that ‘no plan survives first contact with the enemy’.”

Sheila rolled her eyes again. “As a matter of fact, yes. I’ve read many books about the military.”

David cracked a grin. “It shows. We better get these clothes finished up before the DIs come back in here and make us do push-ups again.”

“Look who’s suddenly being responsible and not trying to annoy the drill instructors.”

“Hey, I know good advice when I hear it.”

* * *

David smiled at the memory as he pulled out his tablet and went to the vidlink function, keying on Sheila’s name. Her icon showed active, much to his relief. He pressed the button to start a long-distance link, and a few seconds later, her face popped up.

“David, is that you?” she asked with a huge smile on her face.

“David Cohen, the man, the myth, the moron… at your service.”

Sheila rolled her eyes. “I told you to quit making fun of yourself.”

“Old habits die hard. Besides, if I make fun of myself, I’m less likely to be made fun of for my dad’s heroics or whatever it is I’m a target for being hazed on this week. When I was first assigned to the Artemis, I got sent around the ship for two hours looking for a cable stretcher.”

“A cable stretcher? It took you two hours to figure out that was a prank?” Sheila said with a wry grin and an arched eyebrow.

His cheeks turned bright red. “Well…for some reason, it made sense at the time.”

“If it makes you feel better, they got me with hydraulic blinker fluid.”

David laughed out loud. “That’s great.”

“Watch it, Mr. Cohen.”

“I’m still not an officer.”

“Yeah, but somehow you got to Corporal before I did.”

David shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah, I’m not sure why.”

“Might have something to do with you going all John Wayne and taking out half a League combat brigade.”

David gave her a hard look. “One…I was promoted before that. Two…I’m still not okay with killing those people.”

“I know. What’s on your mind?”

“We were in another battle today.”

“You wiped out another League combat brigade?”

David shook his head. “No…our XO was killed in action. Along with the navigator. She died right next to me after helping me to move the ship to safety. All she cared about was saving the rest of us…even with a metal bar going through her chest.”

Sheila frowned, her lips pursing together. “I’m so sorry, David. I didn’t realize.”

David shrugged his shoulders. “It’s war. I get it. It’s not going to be the last time I see someone die when I’m posted to the front lines.” He paused for a moment, wrinkling his forehead. “I’m beginning to think that maybe Major Pipes was right.”

“You mean in asking you to go to OCS?”

“Yes.”

“Why? When we talked about it last, you were really adamant that you wanted out of the CDF.”

“I know…I’m just… I wonder if maybe I’m just running away. It’s easy to run away. It’s not easy to stand up and fight. My father used to say that there are three types of people: sheep, wolves, and sheepdogs. He’d say that sheep are the majority of people, good and moral, without a capability to commit violence. Wolves, though, have a thirst for violence and prey on the sheep. Sheepdogs, on the other hand, have the ability to commit violence, but only do so to protect the sheep from the wolves. Dad… was a sheepdog. He ran toward danger, served for twenty years, and I don’t think he feared anyone or anything.”

“So now you’re feeling that it might make sense to stay in?”

“If Major Pipes is right and I do have what he calls natural leadership ability... maybe there’s a way I can help win the war. If we win, that stops the killing. Right?”

“David, if you’re looking for absolution, I can’t give it to you. I can only tell you that I know a life of service in defense of my country is what I need to do, at least today and for the foreseeable future. You’re the only one that can decide if it’s what you need to do.”

“Good advice as always.”

Sheila smiled. “I ought to charge you for it.”

“We did promise to stay in touch…after spending boot camp looking out for one another. Especially that final exercise. That thing was brutal. Forced march throughout the night, live fire exercises… the League has nothing on our drill instructors.”

Sheila laughed. “Yeah, I’ll give you that. Hey, no matter what you decide, David, you’ve got nothing to prove. It’s your life. Your choice. Okay?”

David nodded. “I guess I’ve just got a big choice to make.”

“It sounds like you do.”

“Okay, I’m going to get off this thing before I burn up an entire year’s worth of communications credits.”

“Take care, David. Be safe. Shalom.”

David cracked a smile. “Shalom.” With the press of a button, her face disappeared.

David put the tablet away and stared at the top of his bunk, repeatedly running through the decision he faced in his mind. I’ve got to do this. I don’t know exactly why, but I can’t turn away from it, he thought as he finally made a choice. He pulled up his personal pad and brought up the mail application. Quickly composing a message to the acting XO, he requested a follow-up meeting with Major Pipes. Then he turned over and went to sleep, rest finding him.

* * *

The next day, David went about his normal duties, and as the day crept by, he wondered if he’d blown his chance with Major Pipes. Perhaps he had closed that door when he rejected him the first time, but as the end of the day neared, he was in the middle of his daily rounds checking on work orders when his personnel communicator buzzed. He looked down, opened it up, and saw that it was a message from Major Pipes, ordering him to the CO’s office posthaste.

David raced back to his locker, depositing his tools inside. He walked to the gravlift and took it to deck one, which housed Major Pipes’ office and day cabin. Knocking on the closed hatch, he heard Pipes distinctive voice reply.

“Come!”

Opening the hatch and walking in, David brought himself to attention in front of the major’s desk. “Corporal David Cohen reports as ordered, sir!”

“Corporal, I was surprised that you asked to see me after our last conversation.”

“Sir, I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said the last time we spoke over the last few weeks.”

The older man stared at him for a few moments. “Have a seat, Corporal.” After David sat down, the major continued, “You seemed to make your feelings known the last time we sat together in my office. What changed?”

David looked Pipes straight in the eye. “Last week on the bridge, sir.”

Furrowing his brow, Major Pipes nodded. “What about it?”

“The navigator died in front of me, sir. Her only concern was the ship and getting it to safety. That made an impact on me. I know that I’m young and I have much to learn, but I also know to the very core of my being that the League of Sol is evil. I believe that evil must be opposed. I can’t run from that, and I can’t run from what I’m good at. You were right; I’m good at this in spite of my desire not to be.”

“Are you sure, Corporal? I don’t want you to do it for a year and then get cold feet. If you’re going to make a commitment, you’ve got to stick with it,” Pipes said.

David nodded. “I understand, sir. I’m all in on this.”

Pipes was silent for a few moments, leaving an uneasy silence in the office.

“It’s not an easy life, David. It’s not an easy life at all. There are days where you will regret it and wish you had chosen a different path. Especially on the days you go to bed alone in your bunk with no one at home waiting for you.”

“Sir, I’ve spent a lot of time considering just that. I’m sure. Even though I don’t like to admit it, I get tunnel vision in combat. I act. I’m able to focus on the problem at hand and logically think it through, even with the chaos around me. It seems like that might be a useful trait to bring to combat.”

“It’s possibly the most useful trait, to use your words, son. I knew you had it when I read the after-action report from the boarding.”

“I’m sorry I rejected your offer the first time, sir.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about. This decision isn’t one to be made lightly.”

“Why’d you do it, sir?” David asked.

“I’d already joined the CDF prior to the Battle of Canaan. I thought it was going to be a place where I figured out what I wanted to do in life, gained some skills, and since I’d joined the reserve officers training cadre, they paid for my degree. Frankly, it seemed like a good deal at the time. After that dark day, I first wanted to get even. When that passed, I wanted to be sure that it never happened again. So here I am, twelve years later. Promoted to major and commanding a frigate. If you apply yourself, David, you can do the same. I think you could go far in the CDF, but most importantly, you’ve got something to offer. Don’t get a big head, always learn new things, and stay focused.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Above all, never stop trying to bring your crew home. Aside from defeating the enemy, that is your most important charge.”

“Yes, sir,” David said again.

“I’ll put in your application and sponsor it. Once I get word back, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Yes, sir.”

“All right, Corporal, I’m sure you have duties to attend to. Dismissed.”

David stood, braced to attention, and departed his office, mind racing as to what he’d gotten himself into now.

6

CSV Audacious

Patrol Sector 62E—Terran Coalition / League of Sol Active Combat Zone

5 February 2560 (Old Earth Calendar)

Sixteen years later, David Cohen walked into his cabin on the CSV Audacious, a Thane class escort carrier. He paused to strip off his rank insignia—now that of a major—and ribbons before taking off his khaki uniform shirt. Two and a half years into my tour as the XO of this ship, and it seems like I’m just learning how to do the job well. He took a seat on the small couch that occupied most of the space in the small living room space, pulling up fleetlink to review his personal communications. Scanning quickly through the videos and text messages he’d received during the day, he noticed a note from his detailer; the person assigned to place him and other officers into positions they’d hopefully excel at.

That’s the idea anyway. I’ve always found my postings to be a bit random. I’ve gotten some good assignments, though, XO on this carrier among the best so far. Thinking back to his first days on the carrier, David thought he was a good leader coming in to the role. Being forced to find creative solutions to problems he’d never encountered before, he’d learned how to work through issues in a manner that allowed the crew to thrive, and the ship to remain in tiptop shape. Pulling the note up, he had to read it twice for the full meaning to set in.

David,

How’s the Audacious treating you? Your recent FITREP was exceptional. It’s opened many doors for the next posting in your career. I’ve got a unique opening for you to consider. The CSV Yitzhak Rabin, one of those next-generation Ajax class destroyers, is in need of a CO. Her current CO is retiring after twenty years in service, and the previously selected CO is suddenly not available. So… your name is at the top of my list. What do you say? I realize it’s out of the blue, but I need an answer by 0800 CMT tomorrow morning.

– Ronald

David sat back on the couch, absorbing the request that lay before him. The circle is now complete. Once I take command of this ship, I’ll have effectively traveled the same path my father did. Does that make me my father? The idea that someday he’d command the same class of ship had occurred to him over the years, but to finally have it happen caused deep and latent feelings to roar to the surface. How far I’ve come from a ruddy-faced teenager, to this. Dad would be proud.

Over the years, he’d been able to compartmentalize the emotional side of his mind and had seen counselors after each major engagement as mandated by CDF medical personnel. Always making a conscious effort to internalize most of his feelings, he didn’t want to show what he perceived to be weakness. It led to a calm and focused exterior, but when the night was quiet and he lay in bed to sleep, he couldn’t stop seeing the faces of the people he’d been forced to kill in the discharge of his duties, or those he couldn’t save. It was an ever-present reminder of the cost of war.

He cross-referenced the name of the ship, the CSV Yitzhak Rabin. An Ajax class destroyer, she was one of the newest ships in the fleet. The Ajax class had been introduced three years ago to much fanfare; they packed the shield generators and weapons of a previous generation light cruiser and had performed exceptionally well against the League since their introduction. There were rumors around the CDF that the Matrinids, another friendly alien race in the local sector, had provided advanced shield technology, but David typically found RUMINT—the slang term for “rumor intelligence”— to be highly unreliable.

As he began to compose his reply to his detailer, he paused for a moment, considering the awesome responsibility of a starship command. Even his posting as the XO of Audacious was not the same. On the Audacious, while he ran the various departments of the ship and kept it humming along, the CO made the final decisions. At the end of the day, it was the CO’s call, not his. For just a moment, one side of his brain thought, Do you really want to decide life and death for four hundred and fifty people? Can you handle that? While the other was sure and confident. I’ve got this. After seventeen years of preparation, I’m ready to lead. Lost in thought, David considered both thoughts. Ultimately, he believed he had a duty to fight the good fight, to use every talent he had to defeat the evil that was the League of Sol.

David finished his reply, thanking the detailer and accepting the assignment. He’d known for a while he was on the command shortlist, but being offered command of a destroyer after one tour as an XO surprised him. Then again, the war clearly wasn’t going that well. The joint chiefs were careful not to say it in public, and the military and government officials continued to play up the victories and downplay the defeats. But everyone on the front lines knew they were being dragged kicking and screaming to the gallows by the League’s overwhelming superiority in numbers. The CDF still had a lot of fight in it, and they won more engagements than they lost...but it was only a matter of time.

David continued to hope that a new ally or new technology would help shift the tide of the war. The Terran Coalition had far superior shields, weapons, and propulsion technology, but it was only a generation or so better than the League’s. It needed to be three generations ahead to truly turn the tide, as superiority of that magnitude would render League ships virtually unable target, damage or destroy CDF vessels in meaningful numbers. There was talk throughout the military about the Victory Project, a top-secret program to create a new ship class. Command probably let that leak to keep up civilian morale, more than anything.

Setting those thoughts aside, David hit send on his reply and then pulled up the crew roster for the Rabin. He immediately noticed that the XO’s position was unfilled. Well, well. I wonder. He knew Sheila had been deep-selected by the promotion board for command as well. Maybe she’d be interested in serving with me again. David viewed her as a “fire and forget” missile; whatever needed to be done, just give it to her, and she’d make sure it happened. It would be good to see her again for more than just a quick lunch or dinner when travel plans happened to overlap every couple of years. Pulling up his mail application, David started to compose the letter to her, a smile creeping onto his face as he did so.

Sheila,

I hope this note finds you well. It’s been a couple of weeks since I had time to write, but things have been so crazy. I was just offered command of an Ajax class destroyer, the CSV Yitzhak Rabin. Are you sitting down? I hope so. The XO slot is open, and I know you’re the second officer of a guided missile cruiser, but the XO on the Rabin was reassigned on an emergency basis just a couple of weeks ago. My detailer asked me if I could recommend someone, and you were the first and only person that came to mind. Would you like me to send him your way?

– David

* * *

Captain Sheila Thompson walked into her stateroom onboard the CSV Stromboli, a Lepanto class guided missile cruiser, after pulling a double shift on the bridge, covering the first and second watch. Both the CO and XO were down with a nasty case of the flu, and as the second watch officer, it was left to her to pick up the slack. Right now, she was just ready for a hot bath followed by a private dinner, and hopefully, a good night’s sleep before taking first shift again in the morning. As she ran the hot water for her bath, her tablet’s flashing alert light caught her attention.

Unable to push the device to later, Sheila left the water running and went back to her desk to check for messages. Running her pointer finger over the biometrics screen, she unlocked her tablet. An email marked high importance from David caught her attention. Anxiety filled her as she clicked to open it. Part of her hated that he had the effect on her, but such had been the case for so long now, she was getting used to it. The two colleagues had always kept up with each other over the years, usually having dinner together every once in a great while when they were on ships laid up at the main Canaan drydocks at the same time. She paused briefly by her desk to read the email.

Her emotions ran away with her as she read the message a second time just to be sure of what it said. Her tour on the Stromboli was nearly up, and she’d been passed over for command, at least for now, so a different XO assignment or shore duty seemed likely in her future. She wasn’t interested in a shore duty assignment, and if she were going to be an XO, it’d be much better to serve with someone she knew, respected, and cared for than deal with the unknown.

Hitting the reply button, she composed a response to David.

David,

I am so happy for you! After all this time, you finally beat me to a ship command. Of course, it’s got to be named after a famous Israeli. I think CDFPER finds amusement in these assignments. I don’t have anything lined up for my next billet, so I’d love to serve with you again. My detailer’s name is Lieutenant Hasan Darzi. I attached his fleet link profile to this message. See you soon!

– Sheila

Once she hit send, she wrote another message to her detailer explaining the situation, and that he’d be contacted shortly about the XO position on the Rabin.

What have I just gotten myself into? she wondered as she headed back for her long-awaited hot bath. Where would this lead? Would she and David both be up to the task? That was a question that only time would tell.

* * *

David finished the last inspection of his full-dress uniform, pausing for just a moment to consider the ceremony he was about to participate in. My first ship command, he thought to himself, wishing for a moment that his father could be there to see him.

As he walked out of the officers’ quarters he stayed in and made his way to the berth for the Yitzhak Rabin, David’s mind went back to the email containing his orders that he received from Coalition Defense Force Personnel—CDFPER—just a few weeks prior. “Proceed to the Canaan Station where the CSV Yitzhak Rabin is docked, and upon arrival, report to your immediate superior in command for duty as the commanding officer of CSV Yitzhak Rabin,” it instructed. A smile came across his lips as he read the orders for the first time and several times after, a sense of pride and excitement growing inside of him each time he re-read the email.

Looking back at his nearly twenty-year career in the CDF, if someone had told back then that he would command a destroyer, he’d have laughed in their face. How interesting it was that he had become his father despite his vow for so long to be a man of peace and take a different path? So much had happened to change his way of thinking over the course of his career that, while he could think of several defining moments, he realized that where he stood now was the result of a journey and that perhaps the journey was the point.

Sheila had taken over the position of executive officer the week prior and had gotten settled in to her new digs aboard the Yitzhak Rabin. He didn’t know any of the other officers onboard, nor had he served with any of them. Given the CDF’s massive size of nearly one hundred million men and women under arms, that wasn’t unusual, but he had hoped to be acquainted with at least a few of the senior officers prior to their deployment.

The outgoing commanding officer, Major Amina Najem, met David at the gangway of the Rabin, standing in the airlock along with Sheila and a small honor guard. As David stepped onto the ship, the senior enlisted soldier trilled a bosun’s pipe and the assembled company braced to attention as David approached.

David turned toward Major Najem. “Permission to come aboard, ma’am?”

Najem smiled. “Granted, Major Cohen.”

David glanced at the woman’s uniform. After sixteen years in the military, he could read a uniform in such a way that it was like reading a book on a person’s life, from the campaign ribbons, to the national flag if present, to medals or honors awarded. It was all there, like an autobiography that only those who served in the brother and sisterhood of war could understand. Major Najem had been in the service for twenty years, was from New Arabia, and a Muslim, according to her ribbons and the flags on her uniform.

It was customary that the outgoing CO would take the incoming CO around the ship prior to change of command. “If it would be possible, Najem, I’d like to tour the ship prior to the change of command ceremony this afternoon,” he asked.

Najem nodded a bit stiffly. “Of course, Major.” She turned to the honor guard. “Honor guard, at ease.” The enlisted personnel shifted to parade rest.

For the next two hours, Najem escorted David through the Rabin, showing him the ship’s detailed status of completion and identifying any open issues as they walked. At only two years in space, the Rabin still practically has a new starship smell. There were no signs of mechanical issues, and he observed that the enlisted personnel were well drilled, appearing to perform like a well-oiled machine. In David’s eyes, that was a mark toward a competent commanding officer.

Near the end of the tour, he’d begun to relax with the major enough to venture a joke about the ship’s name. “I must say, Major, it’s interesting that the first commanding officer of a ship named after a former Israeli prime minister from Earth is a Shi’ite Muslim,” David said with mirth in his voice.

Najem looked at him for a moment before smiling. “When I took command, I researched who Yitzhak Rabin was. I found it mildly ironic and a reminder of how far we’ve come that I would be the first to take command of a ship named for him.”

“He gave his life for peace, and it wasn’t realized for another sixty years after he died. Today, I stand here, an Orthodox Jew, taking command of a ship named after him, from a Muslim.” David broke into a large grin. “That almost sounds like a joke about a Jew, a Christian, and a Muslim in the same boat.”

Najem laughed softly. “I wasn’t sure what you would be like, Major,” she admitted earnestly. “You are larger than life to some in the service, and to others, you are a symbol to be hated.”

David looked down at his feet for a moment before looking back at her. “I’m just a man trying to do my job. No hero or devil here.”

“Ha, and modest too. Well, for what it’s worth, from me, I think you’ll make a fine commander for this ship. Take care of my crew, Major. I’ve tried to make this ship the best destroyer in the fleet. I expect you to keep it that way,” she said in a friendly but direct tone.

“I will do my best,” David said in return, meaning every word. “I think it’s about time. Shall we proceed to the cargo bay?”

“Yes, it is. Follow me,” Najem said as she walked off.

David followed behind Najem, as it was still her ship for the next hour.

The Rabin was a small ship, much smaller than the escort carrier David had finished his last deployment on as the XO. The two officers neared the main cargo bay of the destroyer. It had been completely cleared of all cargo with numerous chairs set up for the company of the ship and guests. David’s mother had made the journey to see him take command, as had a number of friends of his from previous postings that happened to be nearby. A number of Najem’s friends were in attendance as well, as were her husband and two children. Today wasn’t simply a change of command, but also her retirement after twenty years of service to the Terran Coalition.

David checked his wrist communicator. It showed ten minutes before the ceremony was to start at 3 PM. The proper protocol was for the executive officer — in this case, Sheila — to call the crew to muster. Right on time, the 1MC tone sounded.

“Now hear this. Now hear this,” Sheila’s voice echoed across the ship. “All hands, report to cargo bay one for command transfer and retirement ceremony. I say again, all hands report to cargo bay one for command transfer and retirement ceremony.”

Following Sheila’s announcement, the sixty or so members of the Rabin’s crew that weren’t already in the cargo bay entered to take their positions. Najem and David waited until the command master chief standing next to the entryway gave a nod to proceed.

At his signal, they walked into the cargo bay, Najem leading the way. While the Coalition Defense Force onboard ships retained many customs of the wet navies they descended from, one thing that changed through the years was how a military hat, known as cover, was worn on a ship. On the bridge, cover was still worn, and in cargo bays being used for a ceremony, the bay was considered to be outside, and therefore, cover was worn. For this reason, both Najem and David put on and straightened their dress covers as they walked into the bay.

As Najem proceeded on, David paused as an enlisted crewmember rang the portable ship’s bell twice, which had been setup for the ceremony, while the bosun trilled his pipe for the formal piping of the CO into the bay. The master chief announced, “CSV Yitzhak Rabin, arriving.”

Najem strode down the aisle to the platform that had been erected in the bay, saluting the officers and enlisted personnel that lined both sides of the aisle as she passed. Exchanging a final salute with Colonel Heppner, she stood to his right as David entered the cargo bay. The same enlisted crewmember rang the ship’s bell twice again, and the bosun trilled his pipe once more.

“Major, Coalition Defense Force, arriving,” the master chief announced.

Walking down the aisle in Najem’s steps, David raised his hand to his brow and saluted the ship’s company as he passed them; the enormity of his assignment began to fully sink in. There were nearly four hundred and fifty crew souls on the ship; those lives now rested in his hands. It was his job to see them through the next three years and bring them home safe and sound to their families.

Reaching the platform, David climbed the steps and finally stood before Colonel Heppner. The two saluted each other crisply as the colonel started the ceremony.

“As you were,” Heppner said, his voice carrying across the cargo bay.

Turning to the assembled crew, Heppner began, “Crewmembers of the Yitzhak Rabin, we come together today to salute your commanding officer, Major Amina Najem, for her service and dedication to the Terran Coalition and the Coalition Defense Force, and to see her off into a retirement well-earned after twenty years of service. We also welcome a new commanding officer, Major David Cohen, who will lead you into battle for the next three years.”

As Heppner spoke, David’s mind came alive with thoughts of how the next three years would go. Waves of doubt chased his mixed feelings of excitement. Lord, please let me be up to this task, he prayed in his head. Could he handle the stress or accept that during a war, he couldn’t bring every person under his command home? Pushing this hesitation out of his mind as he looked out into the sea of faces, he found his mother and smiled at her. She looked so proud of him, though he could also tell that she wished his father were there to see his momentous accomplishment.

“Captain Arnold,” Heppner began, speaking to the Rabin’s chaplain, “please step forward and lead us in the invocation.”

Captain Jules Arnold, the non-denominational Christian chaplain of the Rabin, took a step forward and spoke into the microphone on the podium. “Eternal Father, strong to save, bless this proceeding and the soldiers who serve on this ship. Grant us wisdom, courage, and help us to walk in your will. Amen.”

Arnold stepped back as Heppner returned to the podium. “Major Najem, Major Cohen, please stand.”

David and Najem stood and took their places for the tradition of transfer of command. Heppner continued. “Major Najem, are you ready to be relieved?”

Najem stood ever so taller before she spoke. “I am ready to be relieved.”

Following tradition, David faced her and said, “I relieve you, Major.”

Najem smiled at David. “I am relieved.”

Over the next few minutes, several officers who had known Najem throughout her career took the podium and spoke about her exploits, her care for her family and crew, and how privileged they felt to know and have the opportunity to work with her. Something that David really focused on was how her family was mentioned repeatedly, and that the sacrifices they’d made were also honored. When Najem was presented with a Terran Coalition flag that had been ceremonially flown above the main government annex on Canaan, she handed it to an older woman, whom David realized was her mother due to the similarities in how they looked, despite an obvious age difference.

Thinking back to his own mother receiving the flag that had draped his father’s casket, David held back tears as he thought about how often he had missed his father, not always understanding why his father could not be there for various events. At least this family didn’t know that pain in the same way.

One of the final traditions of the ceremony was the reading of a poem named The Watch. At every retirement ceremony David had ever attended, it was read. Today, Sheila read it, standing at attention and reciting it with purpose after being called on by Colonel Heppner.

“For twenty years, this soldier has stood the watch.” Each time the word “watch” was said, the portable bell was struck twice.

“While some of us were in our bunks at night, this soldier stood the watch.”

“While some of us were in school learning our trade, this soldier stood the watch.”

“Yes…even before some of us were born into this world, this soldier stood the watch.”

“Many times, she would cast an eye toward home and see her family standing there, needing her guidance and help, needing that hand to hold during those hard times, but she still stood the watch.”

“She stood the watch for twenty years, she stood the watch so that we, our families, and our fellow countrymen could sleep soundly in safety each and every night, knowing that a soldier stood the watch.”

“Today we are here to say… Soldier, the watch stands relieved. Relieved by those you have trained, guided, and led. Soldier, you stand relieved, we have the watch!”

After a few moments of silence, Sheila continued, “Bosun, stand by to pipe the side. Soldier’s going ashore!”

Najem stepped forward, exchanged a salute with Colonel Heppner, and began to walk down the aisle. Upon reaching the end, the bosun’s pipe trilled once more, and the master chief announced, “Major, Coalition Defense Force, departing.”

A round of applause broke out throughout the cargo bay as Najem and her family walked out. At Heppner’s nod, David walked down the aisle as well. The bosun piped out his departure and the master chief announced, “CSV Yitzhak Rabin, departing.” David then exited the bay and stood outside, waiting for the rest of the senior officers to depart, after which the entire ship’s company had been invited to join in a “wetting down” of the new commander. It’s going to be a long night. One I will cherish for decades to come.

* * *

A week later, David was settled into the Rabin. He had his gear moved into the CO’s quarters and had made the CO’s office onboard his own. He’d developed a routine that made sense to him; always an early riser, David liked to get up at what he called O Dark Thirty, usually four-thirty a.m. CMT. He’d exercise for thirty to forty-five minutes, shower, and get breakfast before taking the first watch on the bridge. He also tried to feel out the rest of the senior officers and develop rapport with them. The chief engineer on the Rabin, Captain Arthur Hanson, wasn’t that difficult for him to figure out. Hanson was a nerd at heart; he thrived on new technologies and tinkered with the Rabin’s engines to keep them in tip-top shape. David had enough engineering knowledge to know a good engineer when he saw one.

After the first shift was completed later that day, David had scheduled a one-on-one meeting with Hanson, as well as First Lieutenant Ruth Goldberg, the tactical action officer—known as the TAO for short.

Hanson walked into David’s office, a few beads of sweat on his forehead, betraying his nervousness. “Captain Arthur Hanson, reports as ordered, sir!” he announced after coming to attention in front of David’s desk.

“At ease, Captain. Have a seat,” David replied, gesturing to the chairs that sat in front of his desk.

Hanson sat down but looked as if he was sweating bullets. “Uh, so, what can I do for you, sir?”

David tried to set the man at ease by smiling. “I want to get to know you better, Captain. This is my first ship command. I served on a vessel that changed command, and I was really struck by how the colonel that took over handled it. One of the things he did was sit down with every senior officer and have a one-on-one with them. I took notes on how he did it. I try in every posting I have had to observe the best attributes and actions my superiors took to one day apply them to my own command.”

“I see, sir,” Hanson said, little beads of sweat still showing on his forehead.

“I was reading in your service jacket that you’ve primarily served in advanced fusion reactor research and testing assignments. A few years ago, you requested posting to the fleet… I have to ask, why would you want to get out of R&D? That had to be a pretty nice assignment.”

“It was a great assignment, sir. I love working with reactors and trying to get every last ounce of power out of them. I actually got to work on the design and testing team for the reactors in the Ajax class. We were able to improve the ability of the reactor to generate power by nearly forty percent,” Hanson said with obvious pride, loosening up a bit.

“Sounds like the kind of thing that could help the entire war effort.”

“Yes, sir, I think it was. Eventually, I just got to the point where I felt I had to stand up and be counted.”

David peered at Hanson; that wasn’t quite the answer he’d expected from the nerdy engineer. “How so?”

“Well, sir, you sit behind the line long enough, you get used to it. I really felt like I was in some ways hiding. I resolved to volunteer for combat duty. I’m no Marine, but I wanted to do my part.”

“That’s rather admirable, if you ask me,” David said, then pursed his lips together.

“Thank you, sir.”

“So how’d you end up here?”

“Well, sir, my detailer said this ship needed a good engineer, and she’s an Ajax class. I did design the reactor,” Hanson said with a smile. “You wouldn’t believe how much more we can get out of these things after the design team integrates the information I’ve been collecting.”

“It really is a technology race, isn’t it?” David said, more rhetorically than anything.

“Our edge is our technology and our training. At least from my perspective, sir.”

David completely agreed with Hanson; the Terran Coalition couldn’t ever hope to match the League’s overwhelming numbers, but they had better technology, highly trained personnel, and their soldiers were simply more motivated. It made sense; people fighting to defend their families and homes were going to be more effective than conscripts forced to fight on pain of death. It had been that way for centuries. He had read in history text books in high school that back on Earth, the old Freedom Coalition, made up of the nation-states that abandoned Earth, had a scientist named Dr. Sir James Lawrence, who discovered a method to artificially fold space through a stable wormhole. That key piece of technology allowed the Freedom Coalition to evacuate tens of millions of people off Earth, and eventually form the Terran Coalition.

“Agreed. And our training is something that can never be neglected, even in wartime. If we don’t exercise ourselves on a near daily basis, skills are lost. I can’t allow that on my ship, nor can anyone in the CDF allow it.” David paused for a moment. “Is there anything I can do to help your department or anything I can get you that you need?”

Hanson shook his head. “No, sir. Major Najem was really good about making sure we had what we needed. All I’d ask is that if I have a request, you do your best to get it for us.”

“You have my word on that, Captain.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Before we adjourn, anything you’d like to talk about?” David asked.

“Uh, no, sir. I’m going to avoid the obvious, sir,” Hanson said. “I’m sure you get tired of people asking about it.”

That was when David decided he was really going to like Hanson. Everyone wanted to talk about his father. What was it like being the son of the hero? If David had a credit for every time someone asked him that, he’d be rich beyond all dreams. Might not have to think about it all the time either.

“I appreciate that more than you can know.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, I’d better get ready for the next meeting. Thank you for stopping by.” David stood and extended his arm. Hanson took it and they shook hands firmly.

“Yes, sir. I’ll be down in engineering, sir.”

“Carry on, Captain.”

Hanson turned and left the office, giving David a few minutes to prepare for his next one-on-one meeting with First Lieutenant Ruth Goldberg, who was more of an enigma. The TAO was primarily responsible for controlling the weapons systems on the ship, guided by David’s orders. Few positions were more important on a warship, and David’s goal was to create a seamless working relationship with Ruth. In a battle, it would be vital that she understood exactly what he wanted to occur.

To within almost the second of the meeting time, there was a knock on the hatch to David’s door. “Come in!” he yelled.

The hatch swung open and Ruth walked in confidently. She came to attention before his desk. “Lieutenant Ruth Goldberg reporting as ordered, sir!”

“At ease, Lieutenant,” David said. “Please, have a seat.”

Ruth sat down on the chair nearest to her and stared at David with piercing eyes, almost as if they were boring through him. “What can I do for you, sir?” she asked.

“Straight to the point… I like that, Lieutenant. As I just told Captain Hanson, I’ve been through several changes of command over the years, and I always took notes when I saw someone do it particularly well. One thing that impressed me was a new CO that did one-on-one meetings with all the senior staff. So I decided to crib his idea.”

“I see, sir,” Ruth’s face was emotionless, and her tone of voice direct.

David pressed on. “In reviewing your service jacket, I couldn’t help but notice some discrepancies in your dates of service.” He smiled. “You seem to have been in the CDF since you were sixteen.”

A look that morphed between pride and sadness washed over Ruth’s face. “Yes, sir. My parents and the rest of my family were killed during the League invasion of our home planet when I was fifteen. I joined a resistance cell. After a year, TCMC Marines retook our planet… and I forged my father’s signature on my enlistment papers.”

“I’m sorry, Lieutenant. I didn’t realize.”

“I don’t normally talk about it, sir. I discovered throughout the course of my service that I have a knack for gunnery control. So I applied for a limited duty officer position at OCS, and here I am.” Ruth smiled ruefully. “I get to stop the Leaguers from doing to another world what they did to mine.”

David felt from the way she spoke that she left off, “And I get to make up for what they did to mine.” Revenge could be a powerful motivation, but a dark one. It was something David wrestled with daily. There were parts of him that simply wanted to kill every last League soldier out there. Yet he also realized that revenge led to a dark place, and that if he allowed himself to give in fully to hating the League, he’d be no better than them. Who I am kidding? I hate the League, what it stands for, and its leadership like Admiral Seville, more than anything.

“So do we all, Lieutenant. So do we all,” David said. “Is there anything I can do to improve the tactical department or give you the tools you need to do your job better?”

“Well, sir, we haven’t been to the Valiant Shield exercises before, but this year, we were selected to participate before you took command. The ship has never taken home any Command Excellence awards. The crew would love to change that.”

“That sounds like a great goal, Lieutenant. From your perspective, where are we lacking?”

“I don’t think we’re lacking in basic skills, sir. But we need more drills and in time those bring practiced muscle memory that doesn’t fail in times of stress. I would recommend that we begin a regimen of random battle drills, and closer to the exercise, we put the crew through its paces constantly.”

“It sure would be nice to have a Battle E on this ship at our first exercise,” David said with a grin. The Battle E, or the Battle Efficiency Award, was given to the ship that performed the best in a series of exercises within its squadron. They were a source of great pride for the crew who were allowed to wear a distinctive Battle E ribbon on their uniform if the ship they were serving on held a Battle E. “Work with the XO to put together the battle drill scenarios. I want them kept fresh and to be scenarios we’d be likely to see in the real world.”

“Yes, sir,” Ruth said with a decided perk to her voice. “If I may, sir, I couldn’t help but notice you are from New Israel. Do you practice?”

David immediately realized Ruth had asked if he was a practicing Jew. “I am. I consider myself to be a modern Orthodox Jew. What about you?” Ruth had a Star of David patch under the CDF flag on her shoulder.

“I’m somewhere between Conservative and Orthodox, sir.” She offered a half-smile. “I don’t always keep kosher, but I do keep up with my prayers and don’t eat pork.”

David laughed. “I don’t know many Jews, even Reform, that eat pork. I know our chaplain is a Christian, so do we have any services of our own onboard?” David asked.

“There’s a group of us that gathers for Shabbat weekly, sir. On Saturday, we also gather for a message delivered via subspace radio. Since several of us are Orthodox, we recruit a non-Jew to turn on the feed for us.”

“I see. Perhaps there is room for one more?”

“There’s always room for one more, sir. Perhaps you would care to lead us this Friday? I understand that you once wanted to be a rabbi.”

“That was a lifetime ago.” I am not going there in my first one on one discussion with a subordinate. “But I would be happy to join you all, and if I contribute in some way, I will.”

“Of course, sir. I’ll send an invite to your account on the ship’s calendar.”

David suddenly felt uncomfortable. Confronting that part of his past wasn’t something he liked to do. Going from a man who wanted to teach others about God, to a military officer responsible for the deaths of only God knew how many other sentient beings disturbed him. “Well, Lieutenant, I’d better get ready for my next meeting. Thank you for giving me a few minutes of your time.” He stood as he finished speaking.

“Of course, sir. I look forward to our ship winning that Battle E.” Ruth stood as well.

As he had with his previous meetings, he extended his hand and shook hers firmly. “Carry on, Lieutenant.”

As Ruth left, David wondered what anger and hate she harbored toward the League. He worried that it would eventually consume her and made it one of his goals for his assigned time to the Rabin to try to help her through those emotions. Maybe in so doing, he could help himself as well.

Between planning sessions with the senior officers over the next few weeks, Sheila and Ruth’s random battle drills, and constant tweaks of their systems to get just a little more effectiveness out of the main reactors and systems by Hanson, the ship was more than ready to compete in Valiant Shield.

For two weeks, the Rabin and her crew participated in the around-the-clock exercises and simulations. Much to David’s surprise, the Rabin took home not only the “Battle E,” but also the Fast Warfare Excellence award, and the Engineering and Survivability Excellence award at the end of the exercise. As she headed back to the front, a gold E, a black E, and a red E were proudly displayed under her bridge, and all members of her crew wore the Battle E ribbon with pride.

Over the next six months, the Rabin also participated in a number of border skirmishes, including a couple that resulted in disabled League vessels without taking serious damage herself. However, he knew it was only a matter of time before a major engagement occurred in his assigned patrol sector, as the League had been pouring more resources into the area for weeks, building up to a new offensive campaign.

August 16th, 2460 started much like every other day for the last few months. David got up early at 0430 hours CMT, exercised in the ship’s gym, took a shower, and readied himself for the day. Grabbing a hot cup of coffee and a small breakfast before he made his way to bridge, he exchanged pleasantries with most of the ship’s officers. Another thing the CDF had inherited from its wet navy predecessors was customs and courtesies to officers. As such, whenever he first encountered any crewman on the Rabin in a given twenty-four-hour period, enlisted or officer, that person would come to attention. Since they were on a ship, cover was not worn except on the bridge and salutes were not exchanged except when covered.

While David respected the traditions, the practice made him feel somewhat out of place. He didn’t really believe he deserved the level of attention given, but that was tradition, and an old master chief or two had explained to him that the customs weren’t for him, but more for the position he occupied. That was something he could accept far more freely.

As he reached the bridge of the Rabin, he donned his cover and strode through the hatch. The eagle-eyed master chief announced David’s presence. “Commanding officer on the bridge.”

Those crewmen and officers who were not strapped into their stations immediately came to attention and saluted; David, in turn, returned that salute and took the CO’s chair. A junior officer who had been standing watch turned to David. “Sir, are you ready to take the conn?”

David nodded. “This is the commanding officer. I have the conn.”

The rest of the officers on station acknowledged David’s order as he spent the next few minutes studying the ship’s status displays before settling in to the first watch of the day.

A few hours into the watch, the communications officer interrupted David’s thoughts. “Conn, communications. I have flash traffic from the CSV Dutiful.”

His eyebrows shot up at the mention of the Dutiful; it was another Ajax class destroyer assigned to his sector, and its CO was a lieutenant colonel who doubled as the overall commander for the space action group David and his ship were assigned to.

“Put it to my personal viewer, Lieutenant.”

A moment later, a video feed of Lt. Colonel Dyson showed on the viewer above the CO’s chair.

“Greetings, Major,” Dyson said. “How are those shiny new Es on your ship doing?”

The mention of the Battle E brought a smile to David’s face as he beamed with pride. “Still have that new paint smell, Colonel.”

“Well, we’re about to put them to the test. I’m marshalling a force to interdict a League convoy that’s trying to exit Coalition space. CDF Intelligence believes that the convoy contains thousands of captured civilians that the League is trying to transport back to their space.”

David’s stomach turned at this news. Captured Terran Coalition civilians were treated as no more than slaves by the League. They were forced into reeducation camps where torture was commonplace, until death came from the back-breaking hard labor they had to endure. “Understood, sir. How can we help?”

“Proceed to the coordinates I’m about to send you as fast as possible. My navigator tells me you’ll arrive after us, but it’s vital we jump this convoy while its Lawrence drives cool down.”

“Aye, sir. Wouldn’t want to miss the party.” David grinned.

Dyson laughed. “You won’t, Major. There are ten League combat ships escorting these freighters. We’ll have three frigates with us, but it’s still going to be a fight.” His expression darkened. “Godspeed, Major. We’ll see you soon.”

“Godspeed, Colonel,” David said before the screen went dark.

The mood on the bridge had gone from businesslike to edgy within seconds of David’s discussion with Dyson. He took note as his mind ran through what they were about to fly into. A major fleet engagement, where they would be outnumbered, though not necessarily outgunned. Terran Coalition vessels, especially the newest classes such as the Ajax, were technologically superior to any League ship of equal tonnage. The problem for the Terran Coalition was that the League greatly outnumbered them on a large scale. While the League could stand to lose four ships to each CDF ship it destroyed, the CDF had to achieve a ratio of between six and eight to one. Anything less was a pyrrhic victory.

“XO, take the navigation station. Lieutenant Godfrey, take tactical sub control, if you please.”

The navigator, Lieutenant Godfrey, looked back at him, her face ashen. “Sir?”

David shook his head. “Lieutenant, this is no slight on your abilities, but we’re about to fly into our first major fleet engagement, and I want the best helmsman on the ship flying us. No second chances on this one. You’ve only been on the job for three weeks.”

Godfrey nodded stiffly. “Aye, sir.”

David wished he hadn’t had to say that on the open bridge, but he couldn’t have a novice taking them into combat for the first time. Sheila was the best pilot on the ship and he needed her flying.

As she took her position at the navigation station, looking out the bridge windows, David punched up the ship wide intercom, 1MC.

“Attention, all hands, this is the commanding officer. General Quarters! General Quarters! Man your battle stations! I say again, man your battle stations! Set material condition one throughout the ship. This is not a drill.”

A moment after David finished speaking, blue light bathed the bridge of the Rabin, and the general quarters klaxon sounded. There would be pandemonium below as the crew of the ship raced to their assigned battle stations. I remember those days.

Sheila looked back from the navigation station. “Conn, navigation. Course laid in and our Lawrence drive is ready to engage.”

“TAO, energize our shields and charge the energy weapons capacitor the moment we exit our second jump. Pre-load all magnetic cannons with high-explosive rounds. Make missile cells one and two ready in all respects except opening the outer doors.”

“Aye aye, sir!” Ruth said. “Shields raised, magnetic cannons loaded with high-explosive rounds.”

David looked toward Sheila. “XO, charge Lawrence drive.”

“Aye, sir. Charging Lawrence drive.”

David punched a button on his chair, activating the intercom down to the engine room. “Cohen to Hanson.”

“Hanson here, sir.”

“The moment we secure our Lawrence drive, start emergency jump readiness procedures. I want to be on our way the second it’s safe.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

Only downside of our FTL system. If we jump too many times in quick succession, exotic particles are introduced and if they appear in the wrong spot, well… catastrophic explosion and no more Rabin.

The ship’s Lawrence drive started drawing power from the main reactor, building up to what amounted to critical mass, opening a stable wormhole between two points. As soon as the wormhole was confirmed to be stable, Sheila guided the Rabin through its gaping maw, and the Rabin emerged on the other side. Little was said on the bridge as the Rabin went through a fifteen-minute cool down period, with the engineering staff confirming that the Lawrence drive was ready to engage once more.

David took a few minutes to collect his thoughts before whispering a prayer in Hebrew. “God, if it is your will, protect my crew and allow them to safely return to their families.” He always prayed before battle, but never for victory; only asking that God spare the lives of his crew. He raised his head as the final notification from engineering to proceed came in.

“Conn, engineering. Safety checks complete. We’re ready to jump.”

“Engineering, acknowledged. Prepare for jump,” David said.

He gripped both sides of his chair, looking around the room. Fighting down the knot in his stomach, he decided that all of them might use a few words of encouragement.

Punching up 1MC again, David spoke into the mic, “Attention, all hands; this is the commanding officer. We are about to jump into combat against the League. Our objective is to neutralize the enemy force and rescue civilians being held on slave transports. This will be our first true battle together. Remember your training, trust in your crewmates, and say a prayer. We’re going to need all the help we can get. Godspeed, Cohen out.”

David looked forward, toward Sheila. “XO, engage Lawrence drive.”

7

Space tore itself open in Sector 17A and a wormhole appeared; a swirling mass of color and energy. The CSV Yitzhak Rabin emerged, its artificial tunnel through the stars closing within seconds of its passage. On the bridge, Sheila was the first to speak. “Conn, navigation. Transit complete. Emerging from wormhole within five thousand kilometers of target.”

David took in the situation for a moment, looking above his chair at the CO’s display. Noting that all systems were normal, he turned his attention to Ruth.

“TAO, report.”

Ruth’s eyes looked over her monitors. “LIDAR sensors coming online, sir.” The first seconds after emergence from FTL were the most nerve-racking as the detection systems reset. Blips appeared on the screens in front of her. “Six Lancer class frigates designated Master One through Six, Four Cobra class destroyers, designated Master Seven through Ten. Multiple transports, designated Sierra One through Seven, sir. They’re not moving.” She didn’t bother reading out the Coalition ships present led by Dyson’s vessel, the CSV Dutiful.

David nodded. Four Cobra class destroyers and six Lancer class frigates from the League weren’t bad odds for the Coalition force assembled. The Cobra was an older destroyer that the League deployed en masse; two of them alone were no match for the newest Ajax class destroyers, and Lancer class frigates were even less capable against newer Coalition technology. “TAO, what’s the closest enemy vessel to us?”

Ruth’s eyes never left her displays. “Master One and Two, sir. Range, six thousand kilometers.” In CDF nomenclature, Master denoted a hostile contact; a target.

“Navigation, plot intercept course!”

“Intercept course, aye, aye sir.”

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

“Aye, sir, firing solution set for Master One and Master Two.”

David sat back slightly in his chair. Fighting to keep his adrenaline in check, he viewed his plot one more time. “TAO, shoot, all weapons.”

The Rabin’s engines fired brightly, accelerating toward her targets. The two League Lancer-class frigates turned to face their new foe. A full salvo of magnetic cannon projectiles erupted from the Rabin’s forward dorsal and ventral mag-cannon turrets and raced toward her opponents, followed by a burst from her neutron beam emitters. Hits sent ripples across the shielding of both targets. A bright flare came from the second Lancer, the barrage successfully battering down its shields.

“Conn, TAO. Master One shields are now at thirty percent,” Ruth said. “Master Two shields have failed.”

David acknowledged her statement with a slight nod. “Navigation, come about and present our forward arc to Master Two. TAO, firing point procedures, forward missile cells and magnetic cannons on Master Two,”

“Firing solution set, sir.”

“TAO, shoot, all weapons.”

The Rabin turned sharply in space and brought her turreted mag-cannons to bear on enemy vessel. Missiles erupted from her forward missile cells, mounted both to port and starboard along the ship’s bow, and accelerated toward the League frigate. Another salvo from her forward dorsal-mounted mag-cannons quickly followed. Explosions ripped across the surface of the Lancer, blowing away the small vessel’s stern. On his tactical viewer, David watched as her speed decreased rapidly until the enemy ship was drifting in space.

Ruth’s reaction was measured and professional. “Conn, TAO. Master Two disabled, sir.” Then she noticed something on her screen. “Master One coming about, sir. She’s firing.”

The other Lancer, seeing her sister’s destruction, came from above and let loose with her own weapon’s complement—primarily missiles and plasma cannons—on the Rabin. The ship shook from the strain the barrage took on her shield generators.

Ruth stopped herself from gripping her board during the rocking. “Conn, TAO. Aft shields at sixty percent, aft point defense at eight-one percent effectiveness. Master One has taken up position directly behind us.”

David gave no outward reaction. The enemy had taken a risk with that maneuver, but trying to hide from the Rabin’s bow weaponry by moving along her stern would backfire for them. “TAO, firing point procedures, ready four fusion mines.”

Ruth’s reaction was nearly instantaneous as she armed the mines and prepared to launch. “Launch solution set, sir.”

David looked intently at his plot to be sure it was the right time to deploy. “TAO, shoot, fusion mines.”

From the rear of the Rabin, the disc-shaped mines dropped like depth charges of an old Earth wet navy. The helmsman on the doomed Lancer had apparently been following too closely as the ship’s last second course change was too slow to avoid explosive devices.

The first struck the Lancer’s forward shield and the resulting explosion caused the shield to fail for several seconds, leaving the other three mines to pass through unharmed to smack against the Lancer’s thinly armored hull. The fusion warheads detonated, and in a blinding flash, they produced a massive burst of energy that ripped into and melted through the Lancer.

Each mine in succession produced a large explosion until the third’s self-immolation claimed the Lancer’s primary missile magazine, detonating its own volatile projectiles. A process feared by all crews began as the ship literally blew itself apart from the inside out. The resulting debris was no larger than one-foot chunks, and no escape pods were launched.

“Conn, TAO. Master One destroyed, sir. No escape pods detected.”

The shocking loss of life caused by his orders washed over him. This was what he hated about war; no matter how often they would try to take prisoners over outright destruction of League ships, sometimes the ships simply blew up. He set that aside quickly in his mind and calmly asked, “TAO, target report?”

Ruth’s eyes went back to her sensor display. “Conn, TAO. Master One, Two, Four, and Seven neutralized. Remaining enemy ships are grouping together around Sierra contacts...” She moved closer, apparently alarmed by a ghostly sensor reading. “Wait a minute, sir. I’m showing another wormhole transit, League signature. Unknown contact inbound!”

A short distance away from the fight, a new wormhole briefly ripped through space and time. The ship that emerged was larger than any other nearby, prominently displaying the foreboding insignia of the League of Sol.

David swallowed hard. He didn’t need to hear Ruth’s report to know what it was.

She gave the report as soon as she had confirmation. “Conn, TAO! New contact designated Master Eleven, classified as a Rand-class cruiser.”

The monstrous Rand raced toward the battle like a one-hundred-fifty-kilo football linebacker rushing the pint-sized chess club’s brawl. Clearly a superior combatant, its presence tilted the battle heavily in the League’s favor.

David swallowed hard and restrained the fear twisting his stomach. Not a single ship present was a match for a Rand. Even together it might be impossible. “Comms, signal the Dutiful. Request immediate instructions.”

Before the answer came, the Rand’s heavy weaponry thundered in the darkness and ripped apart a small Meade-class frigate—CSV Fredericksham. The vessel and its crew were brushed aside like an annoying insect.

The cruiser turned to bring some of its weapons to bear upon the Dutiful. Dyson’s ship took the hit to its dorsal side. Explosions tore through the destroyer’s hull and the ship’s engines died, leaving it crippled for the Rand to dispatch at her convenience.

Ruth’s face displayed her fear as she turned toward David. “Conn, TAO! Dutiful disabled and Fredericksham has been destroyed.”

David forced himself to stop and think despite the urgency of the situation, not allowing the enemy to compromise his observe-orient-decide-act or OODA loop. While two Ajax class destroyers and three Meade class frigates might take on a Rand class cruiser and win, with one destroyer out of the fight and a frigate destroyed, it was shaping up to be a hopeless battle. Were it not for the transports, he would’ve ordered a general retreat, but he couldn’t bear to leave the thousands of civilians in them to be sent back to League space as slaves. We swore an oath to protect those people, at any cost—including our lives—if necessary.

“TAO, status of Sierra contacts?”

“They’re still immobile, sir.”

“XO, intercept course on the Rand!” David barked, his mind made up. “Take us directly over the top of Master Eleven and stand by to execute a 90-degree ventral turn on my mark!”

“Aye aye, sir.”

“TAO, firing point procedures, load all remaining fusion mines into the aft dispenser. Set time delay to four seconds.”

“Aye aye, sir!”

David punched the button on his chair for the intercom to engineering. “Hanson, reroute all available power to the shields, and evacuate all personnel from the outer decks.”

“Aye aye, sir!” Hanson said, his voice crackling through the speaker.

If Sheila was in her normal seat, it would be now that she leaned in and asked him what exactly the plan was. Sorry old friend, can’t explain it to you. You’ll just have to trust me.

The Rabin accelerated toward the Rand. Noticing the new annoyance, the League cruiser swatted at Rabin with its high-energy directed particle cannons, striking them head on. The ship rumbled strongly and energy feedback from the shield system caused the sensor station to blow its fuse.

“Conn, TAO. Forward shields near collapse, sir!”

David glanced toward Ruth. “TAO, firing point procedures, target neutron beams, magnetic cannons, and forward missile cells on Master Eleven.”

“Firing solutions set, sir.”

David had no illusion to the lack of effectiveness of his ship’s weapons against the Rand. Maybe we can just keep them guessing a few seconds longer. That’s all I need.

“TAO, shoot, all weapons. XO, execute immediate evasive action without comprising our time to target.”

“Aye aye, sir,” Sheila said.

She began an evasive pattern immediately. The Rabin’s slight zig-zag caused a missile barrage to miss, the enemy weapons unable to track effectively at close range. The cruiser’s particle cannons hit home once more, despite her maneuvering. The first strike caused a brief flare along the Rabin’s forward shields, successfully overloading them, while the second cut right through the armor, piercing into the vessel’s bow. Debris and bodies erupted from the holes cut into the ship, the local crew desperately getting within the nearest set of pressure locks to get refuge from the vacuum. Meanwhile, the Rabin lashed back at the Rand with its weapons suite, obtaining multiple hits against its shields, but not causing any real damage.

The feedback from the shield system being overloaded was even nastier than before. One of the secondary consoles caught fire briefly before the bridge’s attentive damage control team extinguished the blaze.

Over the clamor, Ruth’s voice bellowed, “Conn, TAO! Forward shields failed, sir! Forward hull and systems severely damaged!”

“Conn, navigation. We’re ten seconds from executing the turn, sir.”

“Navigation, steady as she goes. TAO, firing point procedures, aft mine dispenser. Stand by to release on my mark,” David said, his face almost serene. I’m in the zone.

The destroyer continued onward. On his tactical plot, David watched as the icons for the two ships merged on top of one another. Apparently, the Rand’s bridge crew assumed the worst; that the Rabin would ram them. Real time sensor information showed the heavy cruiser’s shields diverting to a different arc—where perhaps they thought the Rabin would hit.

Gotcha. David’s shout filled the bridge. “Navigation, now! TAO, shoot, aft mine dispenser!”

As soon as “now” left David’s mouth, Sheila banked the ship upward in relative terms, pulling away from the Rand. As the maneuver completed, eight mines popped out of the aft dispenser, thrown directly onto the Rand’s tough hull. As the four critical seconds counted down, the Rabin’s engines accelerated once more, thrusting the small destroyer away from her massive foe.

At the fourth second, the mines detonated successfully. The explosion they produced was colossal, tearing away armored hull and internal structure alike and engulfing the upper hull of the Rand in energy. Secondary explosions from lost magazines and a fuel bunker for the cruiser’s shuttles tore up the top quarter of the ship’s structure, doing massive internal damage.

“Conn, TAO. All mines impacted, sir.” Ruth’s voice had dropped down to normal volume. “Master Eleven is attempting to jump out.”

Sheila shook her head. “They’ll never make it,” she said in a brief departure from normal bridge protocol.

Unexpectedly wounded by a foe inferior to her strength, the dying Rand turned away from the battle. Her wormhole drive began to power up. As it reached its full charge, the stress on its damaged systems became too great. Plasma tanks ruptured from structural damage, the overloaded power systems failed, and a catastrophic series of explosions gutted the hapless monster. Without warning, the ship’s massive left engine wrenched free from the ship, an explosion that tore apart the Rand from the inside out, turning the deadly beast into an expanding cloud of debris.

The Rabin’s bridge crew didn’t stop to enjoy their great kill. David was all business as he asked Ruth, “TAO, status on the remaining hostile contacts?”

“Sir, Master Eight remains operational. It’s heading straight for the transports and is firing on Sierra Four.”

David swore under his breath, disgusted with the League actions. Not content to simply take a loss and retreat, they had to spoil the well by killing thousands of civilians. “TAO, firing point procedures, Master Eight. Anything we’ve got left.”

The speaker on David’s chair crackled. “Conn, engineering, this is Hanson. We’ve got causalities down here, and I’m unable to route power to any forward weapons systems except the magnetic cannon turrets.”

David digested this new information and turned to Ruth. “TAO, can we disable Master Eight with only our magnetic cannons in time to prevent them from taking out those transports?”

“Unlikely, sir. Master Eight has taken limited fire in the engagement so far. Its shields are at nearly one hundred percent effectiveness.”

David took the information in for a moment, looking up at his command plot. With the other CDF ships out of the fight, his options were limited. I could engage with conventional weapons. Maybe Hanson will pull a rabbit out of his hat and get us something else. With full shields, though… that frigate could take out at least one transport before we could neutralize her. With tens of thousands of lives hanging in the balance, he felt his mind freeze, a tug of war breaking out between protocol and emotion.

Controlled ramming. That’s the only option left. “Navigation, plot intercept course with Master Eight. All ahead flank. I want you to ram the contact.”

Sheila whirled her head around toward David. “Say again, sir?”

“I said ram Master Eight, XO. Try to glance the belly of our ship off their dorsal mid-section.”

Sheila continued to stare back at him. “With all due respect, sir, our bow is severely damaged and we may not survive the impact.”

“And if we don’t neutralize that ship, it will kill all of the civilians onboard those transports. We knew what the score was when we signed up for this job…they didn’t. We’ll do anything we can, including giving our lives to save them,” David said calmly, despite the chaos around him. I know that’s the right call. It’s right there in article one of the CDF code of conduct. I will give my life if necessary to defend the Terran Coalition and the civilians I protect.

Sheila turned back around. “Aye aye, sir.” While lower in volume, her tone was one of serious concern.

David punched a button on his console, pulling up the 1MC. “Attention, all hands, this is the commanding officer. Prepare for in-space collision! Evacuate the outer hull immediately and erect localized emergency force fields.”

David glanced back to a tall, older enlisted man in the back of the bridge. “Master Chief, sound collision alarm.”

“Sound collision alarm. Aye, sir!” the older man said, and immediately, a loud klaxon wailed.

The Rabin closed in quickly on the Lancer; its crew rather ineffectively attempted to evade. The two ships traded weapons fire at the last moment, but the Rabin’s weaponry wasn’t able to penetrate the shields of the smaller League ship. As the Rabin entered its terminal course, Sheila angled the Rabin’s bow in such a way that the less damaged section would impact the frigate’s command deck.

The Rabin’s bow plowed into the command deck section of the smaller frigate, crumpling up the underbelly of the ship and venting atmosphere into space. Small explosions occurred up and down the dorsal section of the Lancer and ventral section of the Rabin. Pieces of debris and super structure expanded out from both ships, small fires erupting as blisters on the hull before extinguishing from lack of oxygen in the vacuum. As the Rabin veered away toward open space, the Lancer’s running lights flickered and it began to drift.

On the bridge of the Rabin, the crew had survived, but the ship suffered considerable damage. A small fire broke out in the back of the bridge that was quickly extinguished by the assigned bridge damage control team. David punched the communication button for the engineering spaces on his command chair. “Engineering, status?” he asked, hoping against hope the ship was still combat capable.

Hanson’s voice came through the speaker. “Sir, I’ve had to SCRAM our main reactor. We’re running off battery power. I hope to be able to restore our reactor once we can repair the damaged coolant lines.”

David laid his head back on the headrest of his chair. “Understood. Keep me apprised.”

“Conn, TAO! Multiple inbound wormholes!”

David leaned forward in his chair. Dear God, we can’t take any more. “TAO, whose are they?” he asked, forcing calm into his voice.

Ruth’s expression changed into a smile of relief. “Sir! Inbound wormholes have a CDF signature.”

In front of the Rabin and visible through the transparent metal windows on the bridge, three wormholes opened and out of each emerged a large CDF warship and its consorts. Small craft quickly released from the ships, heading toward the transports.

Ruth looked back at David. “I’m reading the CSV Cicero and its battle group, sir.”

David finally allowed himself to relax just a hair. “Acknowledged, TAO. Communications, please send the commanding officer of the Cicero my compliments, and request that they send additional damage control and medical teams to all stricken vessels.”

* * *

“Grab a sandwich before you sit down, ladies and gentlemen. I don’t believe any of us have had the opportunity to eat in the last sixteen hours since the engagement,” David said. He and the rest of the senior command staff were seated in the conference room onboard the Rabin. Even in this space, there was ample evidence of the battle they’d just survived. Debris from the ceiling lay piled up against the bulkheads, and the holoprojector system was offline.

Hanson grabbed one of the sandwiches and ripped into it with gusto. “Thanks for having these brought up, sir. I’m not sure I’ve been this worn out since nuclear engineering school.”

Sheila smirked. “An army marches on its stomach, right?” She glanced over at what David was eating. “Are you sure this is kosher, sir?”

“I had one prepared without cheese.”

Ruth wore a smile, and it appeared as if she would join in the ribbing, but David’s curt reply wiped it off her face. “Most of our weapon systems remain offline due to lack of power, sir. Captain Hanson assures me we will have limited power to our magnetic cannons in the next twenty-four hours.”

David nodded before looking to Hanson. “What’s our overall status?”

“We’re in bad shape, sir. I’ve got teams still trying to access parts of the ship that were exposed to vacuum. It’s a real mess. We’ll require drydock for an extended period if the ship remains space worthy. I have concerns at this point that our main armored keel may be too damaged for Lawrence drive jumps.”

David looked around the conference room, noting the tired faces on his senior staff coupled with worried expressions. “Thank you, Captain. I have an update on our casualty reports.” He paused for a moment, looking down at the table, shame getting the better of him. “Search and rescue from the Cicero has confirmed seventy-eight fatalities onboard the Rabin.”

Seventy-eight people were nearly a sixth of the crew complement of the ship.

“We’ve had another fifty-nine evacuated to the Cicero for additional medical treatment. We took a beating.”

“I’d like to get a counselor or two to help the crew, sir,” Sheila said.

“I agree. I’ll let you coordinate that, XO. Our first objective must be to get the Rabin able to move under her own power. Then get underway to Canaan space dock.”

Ruth spoke up. “Sirs, I received a briefing from the tactical action officer onboard the Cicero as to what they found on the transports when the Marines stormed on board. There were over thirty thousand Terran Coalition civilians saved.”

“So intelligence was right for a change?” Hanson asked, apparently trying to inject some levity into the discussion. When no one else cracked a smile, he remained silent.

“At least we got it right,” David said. “That counts for something when I have to tell their families.” He cleared his throat. “Okay. Let’s get back to work. We’ll meet again in eighteen hours, but I want all of you to get at least six hours sleep. If we’re too tired to work, we’ll make mistakes, which will cost us time we don’t have. I want this ship underway in thirty-six hours. Dismissed.”

Hanson and Ruth quickly stood and left the room, but Sheila remained behind. “David, are you okay?” she asked.

“No.”

“Want to talk about it?”

He looked up at her. “Sheila, I just cost seventy-eight members of my crew their lives. I was supposed to get them home. I don’t even know how to process that. I…” David’s voice trailed off as he lowered his head, a grimace visible as he did.

“We all know the risks for what we do here. You know that. You said it yourself on the bridge when giving the order.”

David shook his head. “Doesn’t change that it’s my job to get them home.”

“It’s also your job to protect our civilians and get them home. We did that today. You did that, David. You were so sure of yourself on the bridge when this happened. I thought you were going to sacrifice the entire ship to stop that frigate.”

“During the fight, it’s different.” David finally lifted his head. “I get tunnel vision and it’s easy to see the best way to defeat the enemy. But afterwards… I have to live with the decisions I make. I thought when I was in charge, I could get us all home. That’s obviously not the case.”

“No, it’s not. But in times like this, we have to remember who our enemy is, and why this war is happening. Focus on defeating them, not on blaming ourselves.”

David offered a half-hearted smile. “Good advice, counselor.”

“Hah. I’ll be on the bridge. Take your own advice and go get some sleep. You’ve been up for nearly twenty-four hours straight. You need rest too.”

“I’ll try,” he murmured before gathering up his tablet and walking out of the conference room behind her.

8

Sitting at the desk in his office onboard the Rabin, David took in the latest repair reports on the ship. It appeared that while the ship would require six to twelve months in drydock, she wasn’t beyond repair yet. He flipped back to a rough draft of a letter to the family of one of the seventy-eight personnel on his ship that had perished during the last battle. Throughout his career, he had written to the families of everyone who had ever died under his command, dreading every single letter. Pausing for a moment, he remembered back to when he and his mother had been told that his father would not be coming home. The pain, the fury, all of it came back to him all at once. He hoped that the letters would be of some comfort to the families—though they could never be enough.

David believed that every life was precious, and that every life lost must be remembered, celebrated, and mourned. During his reflection, the communication tab on his tablet began to blink with a video conference request. He tapped on the request to see who it was from, and “Colonel Meier, CSV Cicero” popped onto the screen as the requestor. Pressing the accept button with his index finger, he brought up the video link. “Colonel, what can I do for you, sir?”

“I’ll cut straight to the chase, Major. I want you to know that I believe the actions of you and your crew during yesterday’s battle were among the bravest I have ever seen. You took on a heavy cruiser with a destroyer and somehow managed to win. Then you rammed a frigate and prevented it from destroying a transport craft with over thirty thousand civilians onboard. I don’t know if you got lucky, if you’re just that damned good, or maybe God’s looking out for you, but whatever it is, it ought to be celebrated. Everyone on your ship deserves a medal in my eyes.”

David’s head raced, wondering where Meier was going with this.

“I regret to inform you that you will not be getting such recognition,” Colonel Meier said with disapproval evident in his voice and a frown on his face. “I’ve been ordered to relieve you of your command and confine you to quarters for the trip back to Canaan. I’m going to spare you that indignity, but I must inform you that when we reach Canaan, you will be brought up before a review board to determine if you should be court-martialed. You have my word; I will do whatever I can to present evidence at the hearing in your favor. We need more officers like you out here in the fight, Cohen. Whatever happens, I want you to know it was an honor to meet you and your crew, and to serve with you. Godspeed.” Meier’s face blinked off the video link as it went dark.

David leaned back in his chair, angry, despondent, and ashamed all at the same time. But I won, he thought. A counter voice within him replied, And you got twenty percent of your crew killed doing it, just like you got Beckett killed sixteen years ago. He was already in a bad place trying to deal with the loss of so many. To now have the CDF say that he screwed up made it all the worse. The fear that he wasn’t cut out to do this and that he was endangering the lives of those under his command roared to the surface.

Sitting quietly in his quarters, David pondered that for a long time.

* * *

After the Rabin had docked at Canaan’s main space station two days later, it was time for the solemn ceremony to remove the dead from the Rabin and entrust them to the mortuary team for proper burial. David stood at the base of Cargo Bay Three, looking up at the large doors as they slid open to reveal the fallen, ready to be offloaded. It had taken several hours to transfer the remains into caskets, drape each one with the flag of the Terran Coalition, and line them up in neat rows inside of the cargo bay for unloading. Numerous service members from the station stood by to help with the transfer. An honor guard, in full dress uniform, stood at attention to the right of the cargo bay doors while the colors were displayed. Another two rows of soldiers stood outside of the doors at rigid attention. The caskets, as they were removed from the ship, would be walked down the aisle created by the formation.

Sheila, Ruth, and Hanson all stood behind David in full dress uniforms as uniformed pallbearers brought the first casket down the steps. David’s right hand snapped up to his brow, along with rest of the assembled company. One by one, the caskets were brought down from the ship and taken to waiting anti-grav units to be moved inside of the station. There was a sad and somber mood that was so real, it could be felt. The soldiers looked at their feet; no one made eye contact with each other. David fought the urge inside him to show emotion, not allowing tears to well up in his eyes. At the halfway point of thirty-nine caskets, he could contain himself no longer. A single tear rolled down his face, followed by another, then another.

Sheila glanced over at him, noticing the tears. She whispered, “David, it’s not your fault.”

Not moving his head or his hand, he whispered back, “I gave the order. It was on my watch. It is my fault.”

By the end of seventy-eight caskets—some that didn’t even contain remains due to the fact that the bodies had been lost in space—David’s mind was in a very bad place. Going between blaming himself and wanting to kill every last member of the League’s military, he snapped his hand down as the final casket was loaded into an anti-grav unit. A bagpiper with the color guard began to play “Amazing Grace.” He watched as the anti-grav units faded from view into the space station.

David looked to the three senior officers. “Was their sacrifice worth it?” he asked to no one in particular. Of course it was, and even questioning that dishonors their memory.

“Yes, it was, sir,” Sheila said in a somber but direct tone. “Thirty thousand innocent people went home. I believe if you asked each and every one of those who died on our ship, they’d gladly do it again.”

David looked back to the ship, unable to control his emotions as tears streamed down his face.

“It was worth it, sir. And it is an honor to serve with you,” Ruth said, her voice breaking too. The three of them looked at one another, and Sheila stood at attention. Ruth and Hanson followed as Sheila brought her hand up to her brow.

“Sir,” she said softly.

David turned around to see all three of them standing at attention, sharp salutes held. He slowly brought his hand to his brow before snapping it down in a crisp, practiced motion. They, in turn, did as well.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice devoid of life and energy.

“Come on, sir. Let’s go raise a glass to the fallen and get ready for the hearing,” Sheila said, gesturing to the gangway.

9

Standing outside of what amounted to a courtroom onboard the main CDF military station orbiting Canaan, David watched the waiting room silently with several of the Rabin’s officers, including Ruth and Sheila. In the few days that it took to get back to Canaan, he’d mostly stayed within his stateroom. He was frustrated and angry at his situation, replaying the events of the battle over and over, looking for where he went wrong. He hadn’t asked any of his senior officers to come with him to the hearing. In fact, he was almost too ashamed to tell them what had happened, but the Rabin was a small ship and word quickly got around. While he would never admit it out loud, knowing that those he led had his back meant the world to him.

Sheila broke the silence by stating what David felt but was unwilling to say. “This is crap, sir. They weren’t there.”

A voice not belonging to the assembled officers spoke up. “I’m not sure I’d say it quite that directly, Captain.” A portly man, wearing a CDF dress uniform that looked like it hadn’t been ironed in weeks complete with the eagle insignia of the Judge Advocate General Corps, walked up.

“Major Richard Gray, JAG Corps, at your service, Major Cohen.”

David regarded the man and his rumpled appearance. “Thank you, Major. I thought we would have had some time to discuss the case before going before the review board.”

Gray raised an eyebrow. “Yes, this case is moving a bit faster than most. But I think you’ll come out on top.”

David couldn’t help but let out a snort. “And why would you say that?”

Gray gestured to the officers gathered around. “Because you seem to have quite the loyal following. I also understand that Colonel Meier, CO of the Cicero, gave evidence on your behalf.”

David glanced toward the door. “What am I facing in there, Major?”

Gray looked David square in the eye. “A three-star general, Daniel Barton, that also commands the Canaan Home Defense Fleet. Bastard Barton, as we call him, seems to love to make examples out of young officers, and you’re square in his sights. The man is a defeatist in my view, but who am I to judge?”

David shrugged his shoulders. “I’m sure someone has decided I was a defeatist at some point in my life, but I simply abhor the needless loss of life,” David said with conviction. “So how is this going to work, Major?” I just want this over with, regardless of how it turns out.

“We’ll be called into the chamber, General Barton will present evidence against you, and I will present evidence for you. The board will decide if it will clear you or recommend you for a general court-martial.”

At that moment, a young corporal opened the door. “Major Cohen, Major Gray, they’re ready for you.”

Gray shifted his head back at the assembled officers. “You will have to wait here. Major Cohen, come with me, please.”

With that, they walked into the room, the large wooden doors closing behind them. The review board room, despite containing five flag-ranked officers, wasn’t an ostentatious place. It was functional, resembling a small courtroom. There was a table for the prosecutor and another for the defendant. Gray gestured toward the defense table; as he and David took their places, a door to the side of the judge’s bench opened, and five generals walked out in file. The corporal who had escorted them in quickly announced, “All rise! Canaan general review board is now in session regarding the actions of Major David Cohen in the battle of Sector 17A.” David and Richard came to attention as the five officers took their seats. General Barton, a tall, well-built man in an immaculate CDF dress uniform, took a seat at the prosecutor’s table, while the other four generals sat behind the judge’s bench. After the generals sat down, David and Richard followed suit and took their seats behind the defendant’s table.

“General Barton, please begin your presentation on the actions of 16 August, 2460, in Sector 17A, that we are convened here to evaluate,” announced a late middle-aged woman. A nameplate before her read “General Andrews.”

Barton pushed back from his table and stood, setting his tablet down as he prepared to speak. “Rather than step through all the written testimony, I’d like to start by showing the board a simulation of the ramming.”

A holoprojector snapped on, and a thirty-second simulation of the Rabin ramming the Lancer class frigate played on it, freezing at the point where the two ships began to drift away.

“Now, Major Cohen, I don’t think we need to continue the simulation,” Barton said, looking toward David and his counsel. “What we just saw here cost seventy-eight lives, not to mention causing extensive structural damage to your ship, rendering it un-space-worthy for a period of not less than twelve months.”

Barton paused for a moment before continuing his verbal assault. “During the action of 16 August, 2460, Sector 17A, your ship received heavy damage in combat with a League escort unit conveying transports back to League territory. In that combat, your division commander was unable to communicate directly due to battle damage, making him unable to relay orders to you or your ship. You immediately began a ramming maneuver that, in my personal judgment, did nothing of sufficient merit in the battle or the war as a whole. You wasted those lives, Major, like pouring water into sand.” Barton looked down on the two men, a sneer plastered across his face.

Major Gray stood and waved a personal tablet in the air as a theatrical device; his response had already been sent electronically to the review board. “According to the after-action reports filed by Colonel Meier, the aforementioned action of the 16th of August was a victory that netted the capture of a League convoy that was later discovered to have carried roughly thirty thousand Coalition civilians from the occupied worlds in that sector to League labor gulags in their home space. Colonel Meier further stated, and I quote, ‘Major Cohen and the crew of the Yitzhak Rabin performed one of the bravest and most selfless acts I’ve seen throughout my twenty-four-year career. Furthermore, the major’s conduct was consistent with the finest traditions of the Coalition Defense Force and the high standards to which we hold our officers and enlisted soldiers.’”

Another general, who looked bored with the back and forth, interrupted Gray. “We don’t need you to explain this to us, Major. It’s all here in your brief. Major Cohen, your advocate has presented what looks to be a very effective defense should we proceed to court-martial, but do you have a statement for us now?”

Gray looked at David, who lowered his head for a moment, then stood up beside his counsel. He had rehearsed in his mind repeatedly what he was about to say, but nerves still ran away on him. “Thank you, sir, I do,” he said toward the general that asked him to speak. “The initial portion of the engagement in Sector 17A was a complete success for the Coalition Defense Force ships on site. When the League’s reinforcements—a Rand class heavy cruiser—jumped in, the direction of the battle quickly tilted against us. There were no good options. We could have fled and left the damaged ships and the transports to their fate. I could have continued to engage the Rand with conventional tactics, which at the time, and standing here today with the benefit of hindsight, I believe would have resulted in the destruction of our entire force. I elected to do something different and unorthodox When faced with a decision between allowing thousands of civilians to die, or to take out the final enemy ship, I chose the innocent lives we’re all sworn to protect. I consider what I did to have been the right decision. I fulfilled my duty. If I were in a similar situation again one day, I’d do the same thing.”

A third general spoke with a noticeable Scottish brogue; Andrew MacIntosh, whom David recognized from news reports as the leader of the Victory Project. He was surprised to see him here. “Even if it means we proceed to court-martial, young man?”

David set his gaze on MacIntosh and made eye contact. “Even then, sir.”

Barton stepped forward, practically shouting at David. “What about the dead crew? What do you have to say about getting seventy-eight of your subordinates killed when you were replaying your father’s last run? Seventy-eight of them, Major! At least your father had the good sense to order his crew to safety! There are seventy-eight people who will never see their families again so you could hot rod into the side of a League frigate and have a good drinking story!”

Barton’s words stung David deeply. It was as if he had been punched in the gut with every reiteration of the number of fatalities. This man has no idea who I am, what I believe in, or why I fight. Screw him. David turned toward him, his face red with anger.

“With all due respect, sir, I am not my father and what I did was in an entirely different situation. I am sorry that so many of my crew died. I am sorry that so many of our people are dying every day. I am sorry that we are at war, and that I was placed in this position. I am sorry that every day we fight, I am forced to kill people, and that people under my command die in practically every battle. Each decision I make, I weigh against the risk and the cost, but I am not sorry for what I did.”

David’s eyes flashed as he took in a breath. “Had I retreated, had I stood down or attempted to engage Master Eight with my remaining weapons, thirty thousand innocent people would have died in addition to the numerous military casualties. I took an oath. Every single member of my crew took an oath. You took an oath, sir, to defend our countries, to defend the Terran Coalition against all enemies, foreign and domestic. That oath includes protecting our civilians with our own lives. That’s what we did. We did our job. I did my job.”

MacIntosh raised an eyebrow at the forcefulness of David’s statements while Barton looked ready to start a fistfight. “Well then,” the general in the center chair said as she picked up her personal tablet. “We’ve heard your statement, Major, and we’ll consider it while we deliberate the statements and evidence presented to us today. You are dismissed. Remain in the waiting room.”

Major Gray pointed to the door with a pained expression, indicating for David to go first. As they walked out of the room, Gray whispered in his ear, “You’ve got more guts than brains, Major.”

The door closing the behind them, the two men joined Ruth and Sheila on a bench in the hallway while Hanson remained standing.

“How’s it look?” Ruth asked with a worried look on her face.

“It could go either way,” David said.

Gray looked at David. “Tell me something…what’s it really like out there? I only served for a year on a ship and we never saw combat. I’ve been a lawyer pretty much my entire time in the service.”

David glanced at Gray, then back at his crew. “Major, if you want to know what the battle was like, I can put it this way. Living out there on the border leads to these things: boredom and anxiety broken up by moments of terror. And that’s what battle is. Terror. You can try to ignore it or overcome it, but you’ll never escape it. It’s bad enough for ordinary crewmen who are powerless to do anything but follow orders and hope to come out alive. Being a commanding officer is worse. It means you actually have some power to try to avoid dying with the responsibility to do what has to be done to win the battle, no matter whose life is lost.”

Ruth gave David a sympathetic look.

Gray was speechless for a moment. “If that’s what it’s like,” he said finally, “why do you keep doing this?”

“Because someone’s got to do it, and for whatever reason, we’re good at it. I wish to God we weren’t. Killing shouldn’t be this easy, but our job is to keep everyone else behind the lines safe. We’ll do it with every last ounce of devotion we have, Major.”

* * *

MacIntosh guided the controls to the holo-simulation and paused on the frame that showed the Rand class heavy cruiser exploding. Looking directly at Barton, he said, “If you look at the battle as a whole, it is clear to me that this officer is a fine young commander. He’s resourceful, he applies the things he’s learned in his career, and with that resourcefulness and ingenuity, he did something I thought I’d never see; a tin can destroying a heavy cruiser and living to tell the tale.”

“He got seventy-eight members of his crew killed,” Barton said. “And he tried to get every single one of them killed.”

MacIntosh immediately replied, “What was he supposed to do? Just sit and let the League ships present finish him and his division off?” MacIntosh picked up his personal computing device and waved it at Barton. “Colonel Meier believes the ramming maneuver won the battle and saved thirty thousand civilian lives.”

“So he did it at a good time! Look at the man’s history. First, his performance reviews are saying he’s not staying in the service, and next he’s a career officer? He wants to be the hero. He wants to be his father.” Barton’s voice dripped contempt. “He wants to go out in a blaze of glory, regardless of the cost. Why else would his first choice in this scenario be to ram another ship?”

“Ramming is not always a fatal maneuver, General Barton. Otherwise, we’d not be considering a court-martial right now,” Andrews said, her tone relaying her increasing frustration with Barton’s histrionics. “It does appear that Major Cohen’s maneuver, while unorthodox and exceptionally risky, was very justified by the results of the action.”

“I don’t believe this,” Barton said, his tone growing higher pitched; MacIntosh thought he realized that he’d lost the argument. “Am I the only one to see that this man has a death wish? At the very least, we need to take him out of a command position.”

“I can understand that,” one of the other generals said. “Maybe it’s best if we have him assigned to the officer academies? He does have solid front experience and could offer a lot to our command students.”

“At his age? He can do far better out on the front,” MacIntosh said. “And as soon as we get this matter out of the way, presuming a court-martial is not ordered, I intend to offer him a posting with my command as a CO.”

The rest of the generals on the review board looked at him with curiosity, but Barton exploded. “You can’t be serious!” he thundered. “You really do want to let this man cost us the war!”

“Given remarks you’ve made to us at times, General Barton, you’re not one to fling about defeatism accusations,” MacIntosh said levelly. “My command needs a young officer with a lot of ingenuity.”

“But he never went to command school,” the other general said. “He’s only commanded destroyers. His closest to command of a capital ship was an XO posting on a small carrier…”

“There are no better suitable commanders available as of now. I am certain of that.”

“This subject isn’t a part of our intended deliberation,” Andrews said testily. “The issue of General MacIntosh’s Victory Project is for him to decide with input from the general command staff and the defense ministry. Are there any further deliberations as to whether we recommend court-martial?”

“None, ma’am,” MacIntosh said, with slow nods from the rest of the board.

“Well then, it is time we come to our decision.”

* * *

As David, Gray, and the rest of his senior staff stood around, the door to the boardroom suddenly opened wide. A yeoman poked his head out. “Sirs, the board has asked for you to return.”

Gray nodded curtly at the young man. “Thank you, Corporal.” Gesturing to the door, he signaled for David to go in first. “That was a bit quicker than I’d expected,” he said. “Let’s go see what the decision is.”

Sheila gave David a reassuring hand on his shoulder as he stepped away.

He looked back at her and smiled. “It’ll be okay…whatever happens. God has some kind of plan; we’ve just got to stay on it.”

She smiled back as David and Gray both walked into the room.

David and Gray once again walked back to the defense table and took their respective seats. The corporal from before stepped forward. “All rise! This review board is now in session regarding the actions of Major David Cohen in the Battle of Sector 17A.”

David and Gray sharply stood at attention behind the table, waiting for the generals to walk in. After they all filed in and took their respective seats, General Andrews once again spoke for the assembled board. “You may be seated. This review panel is now in session.”

General Andrews waited for a moment, causing anticipation to build within David. “After deliberating the facts of the action on the 16th of August, the Special Review Board has determined that the facts do not warrant proceeding to court-martial. That is all. This panel is now in recess.”

David looked over to Gray and shook his hand warmly. “Major, thank you... thank you so much.”

“Just doing my job, Major. Now you get out there and keep doing yours.”

David smiled widely. “Will do.”

As the two men talked, the corporal that served as the yeoman for the board approached. “Sirs, General MacIntosh requests your presence in his office as soon as possible, Major Cohen.”

David nodded toward the young man and turned to Major Gray. “Please tell my crew I will be out to see them later. And thank you again, Major!” he said as he turned to leave with the corporal.

10

David walked through a seemingly endless labyrinth of hallways, cubicle farms, and workspaces in the administration section of the Canaan Space Dock. After a few aborted attempts at small talk, he gave up trying to have a deeper conversation with the corporal he followed. Clearly the young man had other things on his mind and David wasn’t going to force him to talk. Finally, after a fifteen-minute brisk walk, they arrived at a door with the name “General Andrew MacIntosh - Project Director (Victory)” on the side of the entryway. The corporal pressed the buzzer on the door, opening it in front of them. The corporal gestured for David to enter.

“Good day, sir, and good luck out there,” he said and walked away.

A woman seated behind a desk in the front vestibule to the general’s office stood. David noticed a nameplate on her desk that read “Major Melanie Roberts” and he figured she must be the general’s adjutant. “Ah, Major Cohen. General MacIntosh has been expecting you. Please, follow me.” He fell in behind her, sizing up her cheerful demeanor. He knew that these sorts of positions could be a real stepping stone in someone’s career, as serving as an aide to a politically connected flag officer could come in handy at the next review cycle.

As David stepped into the general’s office, he braced to attention in front of the desk. “Major David Cohen, reporting as ordered, sir.”

MacIntosh nodded in his direction. “At ease, Major Cohen. Thank you for showing him in, Major Roberts,” he said toward his aide. “Major, I hope the wait wasn’t too long while we deliberated?”

Roberts departed the room as MacIntosh thanked her.

“Not at all, sir. I’m just happy that I was cleared, and I hope I can rejoin the fight with the rest of my crew.”

MacIntosh gestured at a seat in front of the desk. “You may sit, Major. David Cohen, or do you prefer David ben-Levi Cohen?” MacIntosh asked, looking briefly at a small tablet in front of him.

“The first is fine, sir.” Okay, why am I here for a personal discussion with a four-star? They’d don’t acknowledge guys like me exist.

MacIntosh returned his gaze to the tablet device on his desk. “Your father was Levi Cohen, the commander of the Salamis. Old destroyer, even when he took it out the last time, fit mostly for a mix of inexperienced crew and officers with old reservists.” He leaned back in his chair. “I was at that battle as a staff officer under General Irvine. I saw your father’s dying ship plow into the League flagship at full burn. It was the damnedest thing. An active career officer, and I saw a retiring reservist commander save Canaan.”

“Yes, sir.” David said, his voice taut.

MacIntosh looked back up, his eyes boring into David’s skull. “You’re prepared to make that kind of sacrifice?”

David nodded his head, and for a moment thought back to his father returning his salute in the front yard the night he flew off, never to return, the night before his birthday. “Yes, sir, if I have to. But only if I have to. My duty extends to my crew, and to not waste their lives in pointless sacrifices.”

“Well, Major Cohen, I’m going to give you an opportunity that no officer has ever been offered. I’m going to do it because I think you’re the right man for the job, and it’s up to you to prove me right.”

David’s mind continued to race, thinking that he was about to offered a post on MacIntosh’s team. “What’s the post, sir?”

MacIntosh grinned slightly. He walked over to the side of the room and raised a curtain, displaying an adjacent docking slip.

“This.”

David got up and walked over to the window, looking out in awe at the massive ship in the slip. It was an old British Royal Navy Dreadnaught—the H.M.S. Lion, only she didn’t appear to be an old ship any longer. There were hundreds of small craft and workers in space suits surrounding her hull, and the superstructure had been radically changed from the last picture he had seen of the Lion. There appeared to be new weapons emplacements, hangar bays, and an interesting structure amid ship that he had no idea what it did exactly. He turned toward MacIntosh, mouth agape, and eyes widened in shock. “I…I don’t understand, sir. Do you want me to serve on that ship?”

MacIntosh shook his head. “No, son…I want you to command her. The CSV Lion of Judah. Our latest and greatest technological achievement.”

David took a step back, shocked by the words that came out of MacIntosh’s mouth. Doubts ran through his head; after all, he had just managed to win a battle by the skin of his teeth and lost many members of his crew in the process. This ship had to have thousands of crewmen on it. I don’t think I can do this. Could I keep my crew safe? That thing has to have thousands of souls on it. He began to shake his head slowly. “Sir, with all respect, I… I don’t think that I have the command experience to run this ship.”

MacIntosh turned back around to stare at David. “Few men below flag rank do these days, Mister Cohen. It’s been too long since we started moving toward the lighter, carrier-centric fleet. Back then, we had advantages that we thought could let us win the war without bankrupting the Coalition. Instead, we just ended up buying time.” MacIntosh walked back toward his desk. “Our carriers destroy an invading task force and they send two to take its place. One of our units is slightly out of position and they jump in and invade a world on us that takes years and hundreds of thousands of lives to regain. Sometimes millions.”

“Freiderwelt.” Seeing MacIntosh’s look toward him, he added, “Lieutenant Goldberg was raised there. Lost her parents when she was sixteen.”

“I see.” MacIntosh gestured toward the window again. “Without ships like her back on the front, I don’t know if we’ll ever have the raw firepower to deal with the League.”

David raised an eyebrow. “An old capital line ship? She’s got to be at least twenty years out of date.”

MacIntosh offered David a small smile. “She’s not the same ship anymore, Major, not now with all that we’ve done to her. The largest magnetic cannons mounted on any ship in the fleet. The most up-to-date electronics systems, our longest-range engines, toughest armor, and strongest shield generators.”

David began to raise the objections he had heard throughout his career in regard to why the CDF used swarms of smaller ships as opposed to large battlewagons. “Twelve or so reactors that demand constant attention and even one going down leaves you stranded?” David asked, retreading a long-ago argument.

“Four reactors, actually, and unless the main one goes down, you’re still more than combat capable,” MacIntosh said with a hint of satisfaction.

David’s eyebrows raised, and his nose quirked in surprise.

“You don’t believe me.”

“Sir, I know of no fusion reactor that powerful...” David let the sentence trail off, seeing MacIntosh’s face. “General?”

“Who said anything about fusion?” MacIntosh tapped a stylus on a tablet on his desk, indicating it was their next item of business. The document displayed on the tablet, a non-disclosure agreement, was the kind necessary to get access to highly classified materials that were considered special compartmentalized information.

“Are you in, Major?” MacIntosh asked.

David’s mind raced with the possibilities; one half of his brain thought he could command this ship and do it well, but the other side of his brain wondered, But what if I screw up? He pushed the thought aside.

“If this goes through, can I have my senior crew?”

“As officers on the crew?”

“Not just as officers, but as my senior crew.”

Seeing MacIntosh’s negative reaction, David said, “Sir, First Lieutenant Goldberg’s record as a tactical action officer puts her high on the fleet bell curve. Captain Hansen transferred to field operations after serving as a military engineer on an advanced reactor design team, so if you’ve got some fancy new power source for the ship, he’s a good pick for someone who can operate it. And as for Captain Thompson, she does know how to keep a leash on me getting too inventive.”

For a moment, MacIntosh didn’t fully respond, clearly pondering David’s arguments.

David held his breath.

“Well, I’ll give their records a final once-over and see if they’re willing to sign on, but I’m not making promises as to their final assignments. To be frank, on the matter of Captain Thompson, even if promoted, she will not be your XO. She will be permitted to be a senior watch officer and navigation officer only. Take it or leave it at that, Major.”

After a slight hesitation, David nodded, reached forward, and picked up the stylus to sign his name to the form. When he finished signing, he put the stylus down to find MacIntosh’s hand extended. He took it and the men firmly shook hands.

“Welcome aboard, Major.” MacIntosh grinned slightly. “Although ‘Colonel’ may be more appropriate now, at least as soon as you are cleared and permitted to formally join the project. I should have an answer soon. When there is one, you’ll be getting a call, assuming that you will be staying planet-side?”

“I was going to visit my mother this evening. She is the only family I have left,” David answered. “The contact number for my private cell and for my mother’s home is in my personnel file.”

“Of course. I’ll be seeing you soon, Major. Dismissed.”

David braced to attention for a moment, then walked out of the room, his mind racing with excitement at what he had gotten himself into.

11

David sat aboard his helicar for the forty-five-minute flight to his mother’s home, while the autopilot flew him without input. He pulled out his specialized secure tablet, opening the file from General MacIntosh containing the Lion’s technical specifications, and read the ship’s high-level operating manual. It was clear that many hundreds of billions of credits had been spent on the technologies that went into the Lion’s defensive systems, offensive weaponry, and support systems. To begin with, the ship had a power plant that rivaled a smaller planet’s power grid; at full power, the anti-matter reactor system was capable of putting out more power than the fusion reactors of fifty destroyers. CDF engineers had clearly then scaled up the engines, shields, and weapons already in existence to match the power output supplied by this new reactor.

Interrupting David’s reading, the video communication program on his tablet flashed. He traced his finger over to the icon, and it showed that Lieutenant General Benson Pipes was calling him. General Pipes? I haven’t heard from him in a couple of years. They had kept in touch as much as the war would allow after David completed OCS. I’ve gotten some of the best advice I’ve ever received from him. I wonder what’s going on.

David pressed a button on the screen of his tablet, and General Pipes’ smiling face appeared on his tablet. “David, can you hear me?”

“Yes, sir,” David said with a wide smile.

“Go for secure.”

David entered his personal identification number and fingerprint into the tablet. “Secure mode engaged, sir.”

“I understand that you’ve been offered command of the CSV Lion of Judah.”

I thought that was classified. “Uh, yes, sir.”

General Pipes laughed. “Don’t worry, David. I’m cleared. General MacIntosh spent a good while discussing your abilities with me. I want you to know how proud I am of you, son. You’ve really taken off.”

There was something about the way General Pipes said how proud he was of David that made him wonder what his father would have said. David knew he would’ve been proud.

“Thank you, sir. Much of that is thanks to your good counsel.”

“You’re a smart kid. You would’ve figured it out.”

David smiled. “But I didn’t have to make as many mistakes because of your advice.”

“Well, thank you for that, David. Seems like they’ve given you a big ship.”

“Beyond big; the biggest ship in the CDF. I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s got ten three-barreled magnetic-cannon turrets, and since each one is five hundred millimeters in diameter, this thing can throw more projectiles than any ship in the fleet. The ship also has four particle cannons that are spinal-mounted, pointing dead center forward too. Testing suggests that those weapons can go in one side of a League capital ship, and out the other.”

“That’s a lot of firepower.”

“To say nothing of its secondary energy weapon armament, our standard neutron beams, only because of the reactor attached to this thing. They’re far stronger than anything you or I have previously used in combat. There are missile cells, massive amounts of point defense…”

“Highly augmented shields powered by the anti-matter reactor give it a higher protection rating than anything in the fleet. I reviewed the tests earlier today myself. What’s its downside, David? Remember that everything has a downside.”

“Typically, a military vessel tries to do one role really well. This ship tries to do all roles well. It’s got hangar space and launching ability for one hundred and eighty combat space craft, and it also holds a Marine Expeditionary Unit.”

“And in trying to do everything, it might do none of them to the degree we’d like to see,” General Pipes concluded.

“Exactly, sir. But still, it’s an incredible feat of engineering. You know engineers… always trying to build a better mouse trap.”

“The good news is they built one. Now we need a commanding officer for her that can make use of this hodgepodge of a ship design and take the fight to the League. Have you decided if you’re going to accept?”

“I signed, sir, but I’m concerned I will be in over my head.”

“Wrong answer, son. I’ve known from the moment I met you that you would go on to do some great things. This is your time; this is your calling. Take command of this ship, make it into the weapon it can be, and use it to help defeat the League. Anything else is not acceptable.”

David sat back in his chair; General Pipes’ words were said with kindness, but they were direct. “I’m not sure if I’m ready, sir. That ship is…it’s all the marbles.”

“If we wait until we’re ready for something… we’ll never do it. You may not be completely ready for this kind of command. But you’ll figure it out. I’ve seen you do it time and again.”

David nodded his head. “Yes, sir.”

“Give my regards to your mother. Godspeed, David.”

“Godspeed.”

The link cut out, leaving David alone in his thoughts for the final few minutes of his flight.

* * *

David’s helicar set down in the driveway of a small suburban home just outside the capital at his mother’s residence. It was the same small house he had grown up in. He’d offered to help his mother move many times, but she clung to their residence and to the memories of Levi contained within it. The driver’s side door opened automatically, and he got out. Visits to his mother’s home were usually bittersweet, her concern about his wellbeing always foremost on her mind, followed by the inquiries about him settling down and having a family. David knew his mother wanted grandchildren, but he had no interest in marrying and starting a family while the war was on. It wasn’t to say he’d never been in love, but a lifetime of wondering if the person he loved was going to come back from a patrol alive or wondering if he would return to find that they had left him caused him to table the matter until he found himself at peace with the universe and no longer having to go off to fight a war.

He walked up to the front door, and the automated security cameras notified his mother of his arrival. Flinging the door open and overjoyed to see him again, she said, “David! Oh, it’s so good to see you!” They embraced and she stepped back, wearing a smile. “Video chats are great, but nothing is quite the same as seeing you in person.”

David winced at his mother’s choice of words. “You know how it is, Mom…we’re on patrol for two straight years. I’m only home because of…” He trailed off for a moment, not wanting to tell his mother how close he came to death. “…of that battle.”

“Come sit down,” she said he followed her into the living room. It hadn’t changed much from the last time he had visited. A picture of the three of them was displayed on the mantel, along with a few pictures from his childhood. His mother had not changed the décor in her home in more than thirty years. While he was not quite sure why she didn’t update the house, she seemed quite happy and that was what mattered. David went to great lengths to make sure that his mother did not need for anything, sending her a good bit of his salary since he only maintained a temporary apartment planet-side when he came home from deployment.

“They talked about you on the news.”

“Ah, I wasn’t aware I’d made it to the news,” he said, trying to get her smile to return.

“David, they said you won the battle by ramming another ship.” She looked straight at him with a clear look of concern.

“It was the only way left to defeat the enemy, Mom.”

Sarah nodded. “I worry about you so much.”

David fought back emotions. “I know, Mom...but I survived. Too many of those who served under me didn’t…but I did.”

She stared at him for a moment. “You’ve got to stop blaming yourself when people die under your command,” she said, a rehash of conversations they’d had many times after each battle David returned from, minus some of his crew.

“Are you sure you’re not a CDF counselor, Mom? Because they tell me the same stuff every time,” he said with a small laugh, trying to brush it off.

“You know everyone in the neighborhood is talking about it. Frances Weiss said you reminded her of your father.”

That struck a nerve with David. He sat back a little more heavily in his chair. He glanced up at the picture the three of them had taken on that fateful night twenty-seven years ago. “But I came back, Mom; he didn’t.”

She looked down for a moment and changed the subject. “How did your hearing go?”

David perked up at mention of the hearing. “I was cleared. General MacIntosh is offering me a new posting with his command.”

His mother’s expression lightened a bit.

The Victory Project, or “VP” as it was called, had been leaked to the news media several years before. Occasionally, something else would leak about it, detailing how the CDF was working on some new weapon or technology. The point had been to keep morale up, but some were not sure if it had succeeded. Every few years, the League started a new “Spring Offensive,” and would try to drive further into Terran Coalition space. Most of the time, the CDF would beat them back, but they would take losses in every battle. The entire war had turned into a vast battle of attrition.

“The Victory Project? Oh, that sounds wonderful. If you’re getting a posting there, will you be getting more time away from the front?” his mother asked, hope lacing her voice. He knew that she wanted him off the firing line.

“I don’t think so,” David said. Immediately, he saw her eyes drop and a frown form before she quickly covered it up. It made him feel guilty for continuing in his career. “You know how things are. I won’t even know what I’m doing for them for a few weeks.” Not exactly the truth, but better than her worrying herself to death.

“Oh, of course,” Sarah said, still clearly worried. “Well, can you stay for dinner?”

David smiled. “I’d love to,” he said, looking forward to his mother’s cooking.

* * *

The next morning, David waited outside of MacIntosh’s office fifteen minutes before he was due for his appointment. As the minutes ticked down, he rehashed the thoughts that had been running through his head for nearly the last eighteen hours. On one hand, he had confidence in his abilities; they were tried and tested. On the other hand, he was continually haunted by the losses of his crewmates. In the days after ramming the frigate, he couldn’t close his eyes without seeing their faces flash in front of him. They invaded his dreams, turning them into nightmares each night as he tried to rest. In a mandatory follow-up with a CDF psychologist, he had refrained from saying anything about the images, but he knew he suffered from some form of post-traumatic stress disorder, though he was far too stubborn to ever admit it.

Major Roberts walked out of MacIntosh’s office, interrupting David’s thoughts.

“Major, the general will see you now,” she announced formally. As David nodded to her and began to walk by, she added, “Good luck. He’s been looking for the right person for this job for many months. I hope for all our sakes that you are up to the task.”

David stopped and looked at her for a moment. “Thank you, Major. I do too,” he said, still not quite sure that he was the right man for the task. He went through the open doors and into the office that lay beyond.

“Major, come in!” the large Scotsman said. “Or, should I say, Colonel?” His face broke into smile. “We’ll have a formal promotion ceremony later, as well as a christening of the Lion of Judah once we’re sure she’s ready for primetime.”

David’s mouth curled into a grin as MacIntosh handed him a small case with rank insignia. David snapped it open and saw two gold birds—the rank insignia for a colonel. How about that, full bird. I’ve got to be the first Cohen in a few generations to get a set of those.

MacIntosh strode from behind his desk. “Allow me.” With a minimum of fuss, he removed David’s existing insignia and attached the new ones to his uniform. “Congratulations, Colonel. I’m certain you will justify my faith in your ability to command this ship.” With that, he walked back to his chair and sat down.

David took his place in one of the seats before the desk.

“I expect to have clearance for your department heading officers in the next day or two. For now, I want you to meet me onboard this afternoon at 1400 hours. I’m going to introduce you to Dr. Hayworth and break down the schedule for a space trial. I’m hoping to have her under way for the trial within the next two weeks.”

David nodded toward MacIntosh. “Aye aye, sir. The Dr. Hayworth?”

MacIntosh nodded with a smirk. “Yes, the Dr. Hayworth.”

David raised an eyebrow. “We’re talking about the guy that gets on the holonets and debates people, calling them silly if they express a belief in God? About the only thing I’ve got in common with him is my disgust for the League.”

“Yes, I realize putting the good doctor under the command of an Orthodox Jew might be interesting, but he’s the best we’ve got. His ego and condescension notwithstanding, I expect you to work with him. Do I make myself clear, Colonel?”

David set his jaw. “Crystal, sir.”

MacIntosh looked down at his schedule. “Very good, Colonel. I’m moving on to my next meeting. You are dismissed.”

David quickly stood, bracing to attention for a moment before turning to leave the room.

12

Sheila stood over a small, squat gravestone in a military cemetery on Canaan, the grave of her ex-husband, Curtis. Thinking over the days that she spent with him, she reflected on how her life had changed over the years. Hearing a rustling behind her, she turned to look behind her and saw David approaching with a smile.

“I pinged your comm. It said you were here,” David said.

“I feel like I owe it to him visit at least once a year.”

“I understand.” Is that regret in your voice, David? All you would’ve had to do is ask me to go on a date.

“Even though it didn’t work out between us, I still loved him. God, it hurt when his sister told me he’d died in action.”

David nodded, looking down. “So many we’ve laid into the ground.”

“Too many.”

“MacIntosh offered me a new command.”

“Oh? Do we get another destroyer?” she asked, a smile breaking onto her face.

David smiled and shook his head. “No.” He paused for a moment. “A battleship. Something new. Big.”

Sheila’s jaw dropped as she shook her head. “So you ram a League ship and you get command of a battleship? Maybe if you ram that into something, then they’ll give you a carrier!” At the sight of the dark look that crossed David’s face, she apologized. “Too soon?”

“Far too soon.”

Sheila put her hand on his. “I’m sorry. You know how I deal with pain.”

David squeezed her hand. “It’s okay. I’m just trying to consider if I’m the right man for the job.”

Sheila’s eyes bored into David’s. “Why wouldn’t you be?” You’re the finest commander I’ve ever seen.

“I’ve never held more than the XO position on a capital ship—”

“Oh no, Major Cohen. Don’t you start that with me. You know how to lead. You can lead anyone, anything, and cause the group to be far more capable than the sum of its parts. Whatever this new ship is, it might be a challenge, but it is nothing you can’t handle.”

David smiled. “I’m going to have to find a way to keep you around. Talking to you is far better than talking to a counselor.”

Sheila laughed. “Well, if you need an XO…”

David pursued his lips together in a frown. “General MacIntosh refused to allow me to have you as the XO, but he did allow me to bring you on, if you want to, that is, as a senior watch officer and the ship’s navigator.”

Sheila nodded thoughtfully and paused for a moment before answering. “Well, if that’s all he’ll allow, that’s what I’ll do. I do love flying ships, you know.” She knew in her heart that she would do almost any job requested of her to serve on the same ship as David.

His smile brightened. “Well, great. I’ll let the general know.”

“Got any plans for tonight?” she asked.

“None. I had dinner with my mother last night, and most of my friends are off-world on patrol.”

“Care to join me, then? There’s a new restaurant I want to try that’s serving Turkish kabobs. I’ve been wanting to try it since our last patrol.”

David smiled. “Of course. What time?”

“Seven PM works for me.”

“I’ll see you then,” David said and he walked away.

Watching him go, Sheila shook her head and wondered what she was going to have to do to get him to realize her feelings toward him. Men, she snorted to herself. I’ll just have to draw him a picture one of these days. A grin settled on her face as she walked back to her helicar.

* * *

Hanson sat in a small bar —a dive really— outside of the base gates called “The Ready Room,” which was clearly some attempt to be cute and attract pilots. Hanson didn’t care; he just wanted a place to have a drink and try to forget about the events of the last week. Sitting at a table in the back of the bar, he slowly nursed a small glass of A.E. Dor, his favorite brandy. The barkeeper walked up and Hanson held out his money chit and, without saying a word, the barkeeper slipped it under the bar and into a scanner to initiate payment.

“The same?” the barkeeper asked.

Hanson nodded.

As the barkeeper prepared his next drink, he kept asking questions. “So why so glum? They turn you down for a promotion?”

Hanson looked up. “Lost my ship.”

“Ah, well... at least you survived, right?” the barkeeper said.

Hanson had nothing to say, simply responding to the barkeeper with a blank stare and sad eyes, which prompted him to walk off after setting the new drink in front of Hanson.

Hanson looked down as a tone came from his personal communicator, seeing David’s name when he brought up the screen. Shaking his head, knowing he was slightly buzzed and hoping he didn’t regret it, Hanson sat down his drink and brought the phone up to his ear. “Hanson here, sir.”

“We got another ship.”

Hanson blinked for a moment. “Really? Cool.” Hope and excitement filled his voice.

“How about another posting as my chief engineer?” David asked.

Hanson’s eyes widened. He had thought they’d all be busted back to Second Lieutenant over the Rabin. “That’d be awesome, sir.”

“Great, I’ll get you cleared for the program. We’ll talk soon.”

“Yes, sir, let me know.”

Hanson hung up the communicator and returned to his drink, but now, a small smile crept across his lips.

13

Onboard the CSV Pat Tillman, Major Hassan Amir glanced at yet another systems report in the cockpit of his space superiority fighter. His HUD showed there was another nineteen minutes to noon prayers. Amusing that I’m so bored I’m counting down the minutes to pray. He was the Carrier Air Wing Commander, also known as the Carrier Air Group (CAG) hundreds of years ago in the wet navies of the United States and Great Britain. The title was an example of something that, despite many years, hadn’t changed in the military along with such things as doing paperwork in triplicate or hazing of the newbies. Amir’s squadron, the 85th Space Fighter Squadron of CDF Space Combat Command, was known as the “The Grim Reapers,” or the Reapers for short.

Currently, the entire air wing of the Tillman was at Ready Five status; they were strapped into their fighters and ready to launch as soon as the Tillman entered the engagement area. Amir had been strapped in for the better part of two hours, and the sheer boredom killed him. “Reaper One to Tiger One,” he said into his comm unit.

The clipped British accent of his deputy air wing commander, Captain Rebecca Tulleny, answered him. “Tiger One here.”

Amir keyed his mic again. “I’m bored to tears, and in need of a bio break,” he said with a snort of derision.

“We’re in fully enclosed suits for a reason, Major. Just let it out,” Tulleny said back with a played up cheery air.

In the middle of their exchange, the commanding officer of the Tillman, Colonel Patrick Forrester, cut in. “Attention Air Wing, we have arrived within the battle zone and have confirmed over one hundred bandits. I say again, over one hundred bandits. All fighters launch! Launch! Launch!”

Amir keyed his mic and turned the channel to the “Air Boss,” the officer responsible for overall flight operations once the commanding officer gave the order to launch. “Boss, request permission to launch!”

After a brief pause, he heard her response broadcast to all channels. “This is the boss. Fighters, launch by squadron. Reapers first.”

As he was the first in line to launch, Amir turned up his throttle and punched maximum thrust. He felt the G-forces through his harness, even though his entire flight suit and cockpit was designed to minimize all G-force discomfort. The thrusters on CDF fighters could push 15-Gs or fifteen times the force of one earth gravity, which without the specialized flight suit and harness, would kill a normal human almost instantly. The fighter raced out of the side of the carrier, followed by dozens of others—six squadrons in all, consisting of space superiority fighters, a squadron of bombers, as well as interceptors designed specifically to engage enemy fighters and bombers.

Amir waited for his squadron to get into space and ticked down the seconds as the flight of CDF fighters they piloted, known as the SF-106 Phantoms, ran through all safety checks for vacuum operation. As soon as his onboard computer system showed green for his squadron, he keyed his mic. “This is the CAG, Reapers, form up in echelon formation. We’re going to perform close escort for our heavies. Fighter squadrons, engage the bandits.”

Amir’s communications system lit up with green acknowledged messages from all fighters in the air group. Inside of the specialized HUD of the fighter he piloted, he could mentally call up information on any squadron and its status from the CDF tactical network.

Colonel Forrester’s voice cut into Amir’s communications net. “Major, I’m tasking your bomber squadron to engage Master Seven, the League carrier on station. Most of its fighter resources are committed, and our capital ships have degraded its escorts. We won’t get a better chance to end this siege.”

Amir keyed his mic. “Roger Wilco, Colonel.” He switched channels back to the tactical net. “Alright, Reapers, you heard the man. Intercept vector Master Seven. We’ll form a sphere around our bombers and guide them in. Weapons status is free.” The weapons-free order allowed all the fighters in his squadron to engage any hostile bandit without requesting permission to fire as opposed to a weapons-tight ROE, or rules of engagement status.

It took several minutes for the fleet of CDF fighters to reach the engagement zone. Amir analyzed his sensor readings, compiled from all of the CDF ships and small craft in the area. He quickly realized that at least two squadrons of League interceptors had been sent toward his squadron and the bombers. He also took note that no less than eight squadrons rushed toward the rest of his fighters. Amir focused on the squadrons heading toward him; the rest was in the hands of his pilots, whom he trusted to perform at the most exacting of standards.

“This is Reaper One, tally ho, ten degrees port, fifteen degrees elevation, two squadrons enemy fighters!” Amir announced into the communications net. “Stand by for maximum range and obtain a strong lock.”

Standard CDF fighter doctrine was to engage with active tracked LIDAR missiles from the forward arc and to use heat-seeking missiles when on an enemy’s rear, or “six.”

The missile tone sound filled Amir’s fighter as he made a positive weapon lock on one of the interceptors racing toward his flight. “Reaper One, Fox Three,” he said calmly into the mic as he pulled the missile launch trigger on his flight stick.

Similar announcements from other fighters in his squadron filled the communications channel. Missiles raced from both sides and electronic countermeasure systems, or ECM, jammed many of them before they could hit their intended targets, causing small explosions all over the battle space. Several from the CDF side hit, and Amir saw three League interceptor icons blink out, indicating hard kills, at the same time one of his own fighter icons blinked out. Amir silently prayed that his pilot had been able to eject in time.

“Reapers engaged, Tillman!” he said over the communications channel. “Reapers, break right and maintain covering fire for our bombers.” Amir angled his fighter downward relative to his location, aiming for another League interceptor. As he started the process of locking a missile on the inceptor in his sights, warning tones sounded in his cockpit. His fighter was now the target.

“Reaper One, you’ve got one on your tail!” one of his wingmen said through the commlink. “I’m moving to cover you!”

Amir angled his fighter in a high-speed turn, trying to outmaneuver the enemy craft.

“Reaper Six, guns, guns, guns!” his wingman called, indicating that he was engaging the League craft with the small neutron cannons mounted in his fuselage. Their firepower didn’t compare to the larger versions fielded by CDF capital ships, but they packed more than enough punch to deal with fighter-sized targets. After a couple of misses, a barrage of neutron cannon fire destroyed the League interceptor.

“Thank you, Six,” Amir said into the mic.

He quickly looked at his threat display and locked on to the nearest fighter to him. Matching the League craft turn for turn, he gained optimum vector for a heat-seeker launch and announced, “Reaper One, Fox Two!” as he pulled the missile trigger. During the time Amir’s fighter squadron was engaging the League interceptor squadrons, the bombers had closed in on their target to where they could fire anti-ship missiles at the League carrier.

He heard the lead bomber’s pilot call on his communications channel. “Keep these bandits off us for just a few moments longer, Reapers!”

The bomber squadrons let loose multiple waves of anti-ship missiles. As soon as the last missile was away, they turned back toward the Tillman and executed a maximum thrust burn. Between the remaining League interceptors and point defense systems on the League’s carrier, most of the missiles were destroyed before impact. The three made their way through to their targets caused additional explosions to blossom over several areas of the League carrier, telltale signs of secondary damage to fuel bunkerages and munitions. Despite the damage, Amir knew that the damaged carrier was still very much in the fight.

Then, something strange happened—the League fighters still in the battle space streamed back to the hangars of the carrier they came from, and the League ships throughout the area jumped out, disengaging from the fight. As the carrier faded from view, chatter filled the communications network. “League ships are breaking off combat. They are retreating!” said an overjoyed voice Amir didn’t recognize.

“Thank you for stating the obvious,” Amir deadpanned.

“I’ve never seen the League run away from a fight like this before,” Tulleny said.

“The will of Allah can be mysterious.” Keying his mic to the channel for all squadrons attached to the Tillman, Amir announced, “All squadrons, return to home plate.”

14

MacIntosh and David stepped through the hatch into a large training room onboard the Lion of Judah; there was electronic sign on the door that said “Anti-Matter Reactor Briefing in Progress, led by Dr. Benjamin Hayworth, Advanced Reactor Consultant—Victory Project.”

David took up a standing position in the back of the very full room, taking in the view of dozens of CDF officers, contractors, and academics observing the briefing along with MacIntosh, drawing a glare from Hayworth as they arrived late.

Hayworth paused for a moment, seemingly to ensure everyone knew that they’d walked in before the briefing started before continuing his presentation. “As you see, the process of anti-matter or matter annihilation provides a much higher level of energy than any fusion reactor system. Although the quantities of anti-matter fuel available are low, the potential for this technology to revolutionize power generation in starships is extremely promising. Our latest advancements—some of which are sadly classified, I must remind you—would also increase the safety of this volatile fuel source in all stages, generation, storage, transport, and use, making this technology highly economical for the power it generates.”

A major wearing the insignia of an engineering duty officer spoke up. “Doctor, what about Dr. Gossel’s advancements regarding the mining of the hydrogen reserves of gas giants? Don’t they provide an excellent fuel source for starships as well?”

Hayworth turned to look at the man, leveling a withering stare on the offending questioner. “Dr. Gossel underestimates the difficulty in extracting such resources with our current generation of starships. Nor does his concept promise to relieve the need for massive, uneconomical numbers of fusion reactors in large-scale starships, unlike anti-matter reactors.”

A young woman in civilian attire spoke next. “How safe are negmatter reactors?” she asked in a bright voice, very much engaged in Hayworth’s presentation.

As soon as the word “negmatter” left her mouth, Hayworth’s face turned to a scowl. He directed a fierce gaze at her. “‘Negmatter?’ Young lady, if I hear you utter that term again, I’m going to speak to a supply officer about procuring a dunce hat for your use! ‘Negmatter’ is a horribly unscientific, ridiculous term, and I shan’t have it bandied about within earshot! It doesn’t even deserve the dignity of being considered a layman’s term for anti-matter.” Grumbling, Hayworth nevertheless collected himself. “As for your question, as safe as any technology using altered matter that annihilates its exact opposite can get. But it’s no more dangerous in practical terms than any standard fusion reactor or, more accurately, an old-style fossil-burning sea ship.”

David whispered toward MacIntosh, “Quite a piece of work. And he’s my chief engineer?”

MacIntosh glanced at David and smirked. “Chief engineering consultant. Hayworth’s the only man in the Coalition with hands-on experience with this technology. Unfortunately, that means you’ll have to put up with that infamous ego of his.”

“Doctor Hayworth,” an older man midway to the back said, standing and waving. “I’ve followed your accomplishments in this field with great interest. To finally see this technology…”

“Get on with it,” Hayworth said, cutting him off.

“Ah, well, uh, Doctor… what about the destructive potential of anti-matter? Can you see it being adapted to create better warheads for our missiles?”

“I don’t create weapons. Next!”

Another man stood. “Doctor, given the cost of creating anti-matter in meaningful quantities, how can we ever expect to get this technology out to the entire fleet? Wouldn’t it be better to focus our energy on more refined fusion reactors?”

“Six hundred years ago, you’d be arguing for better breeding of horses to ensure they were more muscular and could keep up with the car. Fusion technology is just that—old and outdated. The future is anti-matter and in time, we’ll have more of it than we could possibly need.”

David wondered if they were gluttons for punishment.

After another fifteen minutes of back and forth, which Hayworth clearly enjoyed, he glanced at the clock. “Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve hit our time limit for today. I look to see you again in the future and hope you will have studied the material more thoroughly.” Everyone filed out except for Hayworth, MacIntosh, and David. MacIntosh raised his hand to catch Hayworth’s attention and motioned the doctor over. Gesturing to David, he said, “Doctor, this is Colonel Cohen. He’s going to be commanding the Lion of Judah.”

Hayworth took a moment to look David over. “Awfully young for this job, aren’t you?”

MacIntosh shifted his weight and stared at Hayworth. “Colonel Cohen is a veteran of—”

“Oh yes, veteran of this campaign and that. I’m well aware of how young our veteran officers are getting, General.” Hayworth appraised David closely. “So, Colonel, are you aware of the significance of your vessel’s power source and advanced technology?”

David stared at Hayworth, making a mental determination that showing any personal weakness to this man could prove fatal in dealing with him down the road. “I’ve read the engineering briefing and explanation of the benefits and risks of this technology, Doctor. While I make no claim to be a scientist, there seem to be some significant risks in carrying around anti-matter on a warship.”

“No more dangerous than the munitions you already carry,” Hayworth said snappishly. “An anti-matter system will make up for any slight increase in internal volatility by significantly enhancing the power output of your vessel, enough to use a number of the latest, most efficient, and powerful deflector screen generators in our possession, which will, I remind you, enhance ship survivability.”

David bristled in spite of himself. Mentally determining he didn’t like the man, he responded in a more direct tone. “I’ve found that no matter how much engineers and designers tout a ship’s survivability, it usually comes down to how good the crew is.”

“Well, of course it does,” Hayworth retorted, giving off an air of having fielded such remarks before. “A machine’s effectiveness is determined by the skill of the user. But that doesn’t mean the machine itself isn’t an optimized device.”

Hayworth paused for a moment, staring at the patches on David’s uniform left sleeve. Like all CDF members, David had a patch at the top of the left sleeve that was the flag of the Terran Coalition; directly under it was another patch that denoted the nation-state he was from, which in David’s case was the Republic of Israel, whose flag was a Star of David on a white background. Some members chose to substitute that patch with one for their chosen religion; it was also permitted under CDF regulations to wear a third patch with a religious symbol if so desired.

“Colonel, do you consider yourself a Reform, Conservative, or Orthodox Jew? I’m assuming that you’re not an Ultra-Orthodox since you serve in the military,” Hayworth inquired with a smirk on his face, looking David straight in the eye.

David’s face contorted into a grimace as Hayworth’s words registered. I’m not in the mood to have someone who doesn’t even know me, insult my beliefs, especially when I put my life on the line to protect his rights. “I’m an Orthodox Jew, Doctor. As for my Ultra-Orthodox brethren, they serve in other ways.”

“By studying some book of fiction from four thousand years ago endlessly?”

MacIntosh looked between the two men, not saying anything. David had the sudden impression he was watching to see who would come out on top.

“Doctor, I would remind you that its considered scientific consensus that our universe is finely tuned for the life within it…so can you really say it’s a work of fiction?” David said, a cocky smile on his face.

“Every piece of evidence that supposedly points toward that conclusion can easily be used to support the validity of the multiverse theory, Colonel.”

“As I understand it, there is no proof of a multiverse existing. There is, on the other hand, clear, concise proof in our physical constants, that if N, for instance, was significantly smaller, our universe would not exist.” Explain that, Doctor.

Hayworth’s face registered shock and he laughed. “Impressive, General. You found a military man that has a basic understanding of cosmology, even if he interprets it wrong. I thought we were fresh out of those.”

Before MacIntosh could respond, David interjected, “Jews are taught to question, Doctor. I paid attention in science class, and I put my faith to the test. It has held up fine so far.”

MacIntosh cleared his throat and cut in to end the debate. “Doctor, I’d like you to brief Colonel Cohen on how the ship’s engineering section works.”

As Hayworth paused, David realized that for the man’s arrogance, he didn’t seem willing to cross the flag officer that controlled the flow of his research grants. “Oh, yes, of course. Please, follow me. I’d like to introduce you to Major Merriweather,” Hayworth said as he led the men down the hall to the engineering section of the ship.

Leading the way out of the training room, Hayworth walked down a series of passageways through the mammoth ship. David and MacIntosh followed at a distance. During the walk, MacIntosh asked, “So what exactly is N?”

David glanced at him and smiled. “N is the ratio of the strength of electromagnetism to the strength of gravity for a pair of protons. It’s one of the six constants of the universe that govern our reality.”

MacIntosh snorted. “The science stuff is over my head. Why exactly do you know this?”

“I love to read; that, and there was a kid in my class in middle school that acted just like the good doctor. I rather enjoyed debating various subjects with him and winning.”

“Well, that’s about the only time I’ve seen someone shut that pompous ass up. Congratulations.”

David laughed to himself and found his mind wandering as they walked through the ship’s passageways. After what seemed like fifteen minutes, but in reality, was less than five, they arrived at an office marked with an electronic sign displaying “Maj. Elizabeth Merriweather, Senior Project Manager.” Hayworth walked through the hatch into the office, followed by MacIntosh and David.

Merriweather was seated at a desk inside her office. A woman in her mid-thirties, she wore a normal khaki CDF duty uniform. As the three walked in, she looked up and belatedly jumped to her feet, bracing to attention a couple of seconds after MacIntosh entered. “Sir! Apologies, sir,” she said as her face turned red.

MacIntosh offered a small smile. “At ease, Major. I recognize the result of being around civilians too long.”

Merriweather relaxed as Hayworth made the introduction to David. “Colonel Cohen, this is Major Elizabeth Merriweather from the CDF’s Advanced Engineering Department. Eliza has been on the project from the beginning.”

David stepped forward and offered his hand. “Major, good to meet you.”

“Likewise, Colonel,” Merriweather said, taking his hand and shaking it firmly.

“Colonel Cohen is newly assigned as the commander of the Lion,” Hayworth explained. “We need to bring him up to speed on the anti-matter system.”

“Oh, of course. Allow me, Doctor.” Eliza tapped a button on her desk and a hologram popped up, showing a hydrogen atom with a plus sign on it. “Basically, anti-matter is matter with a reverse charge to normal matter—the electrons have a positive charge and the protons a negative charge. When anti-matter and matter come into contact, they annihilate each other, producing energy. The potential energy release from this reaction is as high as one hundred orders of magnitude above that of a fusion reaction. Of course, anti-matter occurs very rarely in the universe and is usually annihilated almost instantly due to contact with normal matter, so we have to create it through specialized particle accelerators.”

“Wouldn’t it just be destroyed after creation when it comes into contact with normal matter?” David asked.

“That’s where the magnetic containment comes in,” Merriweather said. “You can keep anti-matter isolated through a magnetic field. We’ve already successfully concluded tests with magnetic field containers for anti-matter that will serve as your ship’s fuel bunkers. They’re quite safe, Colonel, I assure you.”

“Maybe in normal operation, but what about in combat?”

“The bunker space is within the ship’s armored keel, as is the center point of the reactor. Though I believe it best if I finish these explanations in your tour of the ship. It might be a bit easier to understand if you can actually see what we’re doing to her.”

“That sounds like an excellent idea,” MacIntosh said as he nodded to the two engineers and then turned to David. “The tour is scheduled for tomorrow afternoon. I trust everyone can accommodate that?”

“Actually, I have a lecture at...” Hayworth started to say, and then noticed a dirty look from Merriweather and immediately began to shift what he was saying. “...but I believe Dr. Hart can fill in for me in the later lectures.”

“Very good, Doctor. Have a lovely day,” MacIntosh said with a smirk as he walked out, leading David out of the office with him. “You’re going to have your hands full with that one, Colonel.”

* * *

The CSV Oxford was technically not a warship in the Coalition Defense Force, but instead a technical research ship, as she was outfitted with a pinpoint sensor suite, extensive listening equipment, and a large complement of intelligence analysts. Tasked to patrol far behind the front lines, the Oxford was a CDF intelligence vessel for spooks and run by spooks. Sitting in the center of the large operations center floor that took up several decks of the ship, Lieutenant Colonel Robert Sinclair glanced up at the large plaque mounted in the center of the holoprojector displays that proclaimed the motto of CDF Intelligence: “In God We Trust, All Others We Monitor.” For some reason, reading that always brought a smile to his face. Looking back down to a decryption program that ran on several intercepted League transmissions, he watched as the progress bar ticked one more percent.

“A watched decryption never finishes, sir,” Second Lieutenant Alon Tamir said, unable to keep the hint of a grin off his face.

“I don’t recall asking your opinion, butter bars,” Sinclair said back in his polished English accent. Tamir thought he enjoyed poking fun at him and hoped with time he might end up earning his respect with this abilities.

“Of course, sir.”

“Did you finish composing an analysis on those reports I gave you earlier?” Sinclair asked.

“Yes, sir, it’s in your inbox.”

“What’s the BLUF, butter bars?” BLUF stood for bottom line, up front.

“That the League fleet in this sector has limited supplies to carry out ongoing offensive actions, so we should plan a counterattack immediately before they’re able to resupply,” Tamir responded with a smile.

“Good. Same conclusion I reached, but maybe you’re learning something on this tub.”

“Perhaps great minds think alike, sir?”

Sinclair narrowed his eyes. “Keep dreaming.”

Tamir took the pokes in stride, as the Oxford was legendary in the fleet for its practical jokes. Tamir had even heard at one point a group of chiefs had taken the entire contents of the XO’s quarters and arranged them on the outer hull exactly as his quarters was set up. The story went that the XO had left it all out there for a week before the ringleader fessed up and moved everything back. At some point, there’d be another newbie on the ship, and that person would get the attention rather than him. He really looked forward to that day. “Yes, sir!” he replied with a grin on his face.

Tamir’s console beeped, showing a League communication being intercepted. Turning his attention to his console, he noticed that the transmission lacked normal League encryption protocols. “Colonel, I’ve got an unencrypted League transmission, sir.”

Sinclair snorted. “Probably a propaganda video. I’m in the mood for a good laugh. Put it up on the big screen.”

A few moments later, the flag of the League of Sol appeared on the main holoviewer in the operations center. It was quickly replaced by a white flag, and then transitioned to a man’s face. Tamir and Sinclair exchanged glances as the images changed on the screen. “This message is for the government of the Terran Coalition,” the man began. “I am Diplomatic Minister Carl Jenner of the League of Sol Social and Public Safety Committee.”

As he spoke, Sinclair snorted again. “Oh great, they want us to surrender. Not bloody likely.”

“For the last twenty-seven years, our respective militaries have fought and died in a galaxy-wide war. The League of Sol believes that now is the time for us to set aside this mindless slaughter and try to find common ground between humanity.”

Tamir’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull. Is this some sort of sick joke the comm techs are playing on us?

“The League of Sol realizes that an overture for cessation of hostilities after so many years may be difficult to comprehend. To prove our sincerity and good will, we propose to return five thousand prisoners of war to the Terran Coalition and send a ship with them and our delegation to Canaan for the purpose of a negotiated peace that is acceptable to both sides. As a further gesture of good will, the League will halt military operations in Terran Coalition space for the next five days while this proposal is considered. We await your response.”

The transmission ended, leaving only a blank screen in its wake. The operations center was very, very quiet as officers and enlisted personnel looked at each other, not sure what to make of what they saw.

Sinclair cleared his throat. “Okay, which one of you put that together? That’s got to be the best prank ever pulled on this ship.”

No one answered him. It began to sink in with Tamir that what they just saw was perhaps genuine.

“Lieutenant Tamir, can we confirm that the signal originated from League territory?”

Tamir had been working on that problem before Sinclair had asked him. “Yes, sir, I can. Triangulation shows it originating from behind their front lines.”

“Get me a gold level communications channel to the SecDef, Lieutenant.”

As Tamir moved to comply, he realized he had been referred to as Lieutenant for the first time this week, and not butter bars. “Yes, sir!” Perhaps the League wanted to end the war. The implications were incredible and Tamir fought to keep his excitement in check so that he could focus on the task at hand. A few minutes passed as the link was made. “I’ve got the Secretary of Defense’s office for you, sir.”

Sinclair turned and faced the camera for the communications video link. “Mr. Secretary, you’re going to want to sit down for this.”

15

MacIntosh glanced at David, who was sitting in front of his desk, then he turned his gaze toward the Lion. She was visible through the transparent metal windows that looked out upon the nearby dock. Cohen better be the right one.

MacIntosh finished pulling up a file on his tablet and cleared his throat. “Colonel, the clearances of your preferred command crew have been approved. That leaves the other officers being assigned.”

Before David could speak, an intercom on MacIntosh’s desk went off. “General Barton is here to see you, sir. He insists that it is urgent and cannot wait,” Roberts said.

“Let him in,” MacIntosh said with more than a trace of annoyance in his voice.

The office door opened and in walked General Barton. He braced to attention respectfully as MacIntosh and David stood. David braced to attention as well. “General, I wasn’t expecting you so soon,” MacIntosh said with an edge to his voice. “Colonel, I’ll get back to you later. You are dismissed.”

David relaxed. “Yes, sir,” he said and quickly exited the room, glancing at Barton as he left, wondering what caused the interruption.

With David gone, the two men sat down. Barton sat in the chair in front of MacIntosh’s desk that David had just vacated.

“You’ve told him there’s no way he gets his command crew where he wants them, correct?” Barton asked.

“Of course.”

“Ah, good. Wouldn’t want to make him feel spoiled, would we?” Barton said with a touch of a sneer on his face.

The two men looked at each other intently. “General Barton, if this is about...” MacIntosh began.

“...his unfitness for this kind of command? Not really.” Barton cracked a smile. “You know as well as I do what this project really is. ‘Victory Project’ sounds all nice and optimistic, but it should be more like ‘Last Gamble Project,’ and you know it as much as I do. The only reason they’re letting you pick that kid is because half the joint chiefs are convinced the technology won’t work. Better to let the young colonel take heat for a failed ship design than a man who’s about to get general stars and actually do some good in this war.”

A look of dark amusement crossed onto MacIntosh’s face. “You know, General, I thought you were simply overselling your part in the court-martial, but you really don’t like Colonel Cohen, do you?”

“Like? That has nothing to do with it, Andrew. As far as I’m concerned, he’s the perfect man for this project,” Barton said. “As I said, you know as well as I do that this is hardly going to win the war. As it stands, if we’re lucky, it won’t bankrupt the Coalition before the strain on the fleet would anyway. And don’t throw that old canard of ‘defeatism’ around.” Barton leaned forward. “It’s one thing to keep the morale of the public up, to keep them working overtime in factories and paying more for goods to help keep the war effort going. That’s why nobody says these things in public. But let’s face facts. The Coalition is in a war that it’ll be lucky to survive with a negotiated peace. We’re not going to drive the League out with or without these new ships.”

“You’re being pessimistic.”

“And you’re being foolish. There are other matters we should be turning our energy to, not putting everything we’ve got into magical technologies to end the war.”

“It’s not magical; it works,” MacIntosh said flatly. “Hayworth’s team has proven consistently in the last six months the anti-matter reactor is everything he claimed it would be. All it took was the right amount of funds being applied so we could procure the right materials and the best people to work on it.”

“Congratulations. One ship will not turn the tide of this war. Or need I remind you that with the start of the latest ‘Spring Offensive’ by the League, we’re being pushed back across nearly the entire front,” Barton said firmly, raising his voice.

“One ship isn’t supposed to turn the tide of the war! It’s supposed to become a symbol that drives morale back up and serves as a test bed for new technologies that can be implemented fleet wide…and that will turn the tide of the war,” MacIntosh said, his calm façade breaking. I hate political appointees. This man doesn’t deserve the stars he wears. Without connections, he’d never made it beyond major.

The intercom on his desk went off, and MacIntosh pressed the button to answer it with some irritation. “Yes?”

“This is Secretary Dunleavey’s office, sir. He says it’s urgent and he needs to see you right away,” Robert’s sing-song voice said through the speaker.

“We’ll continue this discussion later, then,” MacIntosh said.

16

Lieutenant Colonel Calvin Demood of the Terran Coalition Marine Corps, a tall, very well-built dark-skinned American of African descent, sat on the couch in his living room, flipping through a stack of medals. He looked closely at several; just seeing them recalled the events that led to each. Planetary defense operations, invasions of League-occupied worlds to liberate them back into the Terran Coalition, boarding operations, and everything in between for twenty-one long years of service. Until a few minutes prior, Calvin thought bitterly to himself. The time had finally come for him to retire in six months, and now that was being delayed. Jess isn’t going to react well to this development. Not even sure what I think about it.

He leaned back on the couch, glancing around the living room in his relatively modest home on the grounds of Camp Fox, a large TCMC base situated in a remote area of Canaan. Its primary function was as a training ground for new Marines. Calvin had been in command of a training brigade for the last eighteen months.

Jessica walked in and saw him looking through his medals. She walked over and gave him a kiss as she sat next to him. “Putting everything away for retirement?”

Calvin stared at a medal he earned during one of his first deployments as second lieutenant for fighting off waves of League troops while protecting a group of wounded Marines whose corpsman had been killed by enemy fire. “They’re giving me new orders,” he said, letting the words fall out of his mouth before looking up at his wife.

Jessica’s face clouded over. “What do you mean ‘new orders’? You’ve got less than six months to finish at Field Command School…”

“They want me to take a new assignment overseeing an MEU connected with the Victory Project.”

His wife’s voice began to rise. “What? Why? They know you’re retiring in six months.” She turned to face him on the couch. “They know that, right?”

Calvin looked at her, steeling himself. “They also asked me to stay on for another three years.”

At that, Jessica’s emotions got the best of her. “Oh no! No! You’re not going to let them do this to us!” she shouted. “You said you were done; you were ready to settle down!”

Calvin struggled to respond to his wife’s outburst. He knew that, more than anything, she wanted him to get out of the military.

“I was, Jess. It’s just… It wasn’t just any request. This came straight from General MacIntosh himself. He wants me to lead the MEU on that ship they keep saying they’re building. It’s real. I’ve got to do this.”

Calvin reached out to take her hand, but she swatted it away.

Jessica just stared at him. “So that’s it, isn’t it? They raise the flag again and you go running off without a thought?” she asked, seething.

“I took an oath, baby.”

“You’re damned right you took an oath…you took one to me! You promised me this was the end! I want a child, Calvin! I’m sick of wondering if you’re not coming back every time you walk out the door! What about me?” she shouted.

“Jess…”

“I’ve been waiting for you to settle down for twenty damn years, Calvin! I’m tired of waiting!”

Flustered, and unable to say anything else, she stormed out of the room and into the nearby bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

Calvin stood and went to the door, knocking on it. “Hon? Please, come back out. We can talk about this,” he pleaded with her through the door. After more than a few seconds of silence, he stepped away and sat back down in the living room, looking at the tablet that held his new orders, shaking his head. This posting had damn well better be worth it.

* * *

David pulled his cover on as he walked onto the bridge of the Lion of Judah, taking in the sight of all the people working on the bridge, coupled with its combat information center (CIC). General MacIntosh had already given him the so-called nickel tour of the ship, but this was his first time alone on the bridge. Many technicians, both military and contractor, worked on various consoles and there were disassembled stations, wall panels, and cabling everywhere. Recalling his old days as damage control team leader, he walked over to one of the many stations that had cables and parts strewn around it. A CDF officer was under the console; David could just make out his rank as a first lieutenant.

“And what are we doing here, Lieutenant?” David asked.

The younger man poked his head up. “Trying to troubleshoot a short in the communications control system… not enough engineers to go around, and the contractors are all focused on weapons and shields,” he explained.

David found himself mildly amused as the young man’s eyes glanced up, saw his rank insignia, and then dropped everything to stand and come to attention.

“Colonel, sir!”

A few other personnel now took notice of David and came to attention. He quickly said, “At ease, everyone. Carry on with repairs.”

As the rest of the technicians and contractors on the bridge resumed what they had been doing, David returned his focus to the young man before him. Taking note of the name displayed on his badge, he spoke again. “So, Lieutenant Taylor, what station are you assigned to?”

“I’m the senior communications officer, sir. I arrived last night.”

David took a seat at a console to the left of the communications station. “I see. I was assigned yesterday as well.”

“Yes, sir. We’re receiving a lot of transfer paperwork. Seems like the brass is staffing up the ship quickly.”

“I haven’t been able to review the service jackets of the senior personnel yet due to the volume. Got to love that one of the few constants in the universe is paperwork in the government.”

Taylor chuckled politely. “Of course, sir.”

Determined to draw something more than small talk out of the young man, David persisted. “So tell me something about yourself that I won’t find in your service jacket, Lieutenant.”

“Um, well, sir... I like to work on unbreakable cryptology problems in my spare time.”

David smiled. Hanson will like this guy. Natural born nerd. “Okay, well, here’s one that is in your service jacket…what’s your first name?”

Taylor turned a few shades of red. “Robert, sir. Robert Taylor.”

“Pleased to meet you. I’m David Cohen.”

“Sir, is it true you rammed an enemy ship in your last combat? We’ve been hearing a lot of scuttlebutt.”

“Yes, it is. We rammed an enemy frigate, disabling it and saving a convoy of civilians from the League.”

“That’s impressive, sir. I wish I could have been there.”

“Lieutenant, it was a desperate action that cost seventy-eight people on my crew their lives, but it was a gamble that succeeded. One thing it was not was impressive. And should you find yourself in a command position someday, remember that we hold the lives of those we lead in our hands. That is an awesome responsibility that should never be taken for granted.”

Taylor gulped. “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t realize.”

“Nothing to be sorry about, Lieutenant.” David felt his own face redden. He knew as soon as he finished saying it that he shouldn’t have laid into the young man quite that hard. “To be clear, I’m not planning on ever ramming this ship into anything,” he finished off, trying to lighten up the conversation.

A small grin eased its way onto Taylor’s face. “Well, at least if you rammed a frigate with this ship…it’d be like smearing a bug on a windshield.”

“That’s the spirit, Lieutenant.”

Just as David was about to take his leave, Taylor’s comm unit went off. “Rob, you won’t believe this!” a voice said that issued from it. Before Taylor could reach down and turn it off, the voice continued. “I just heard a rumor that the League wants to talk peace! They sent a message to our government!”

Both David’s and Taylor’s expressions changed in an instant to one of bewilderment and amazement. “Lieutenant, do we get Canaan News Network up here?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Pull it up, please. Maybe this rumor is on the news.”

* * *

Justin Spencer, the President of the Terran Coalition, waited outside of the richly adorned conference table within the Canaan primary government center. Watching his ministers, leading generals, and advisors walk in and take their seats, he ran the events of the last several hours through his mind for the millionth time. Spencer had been elected eighteen months prior and was a member of the Liberal party.

The Liberals were known by different names on different planets in the coalition. On the British worlds, they were called the Conservatives or Tories; on the American planets, they were known as Republicans. Overall, the Liberals were the largest center-right party within the Terran Coalition.

Spencer had replaced the previous president, who was a member of the Liberal-Democrats, which was the largest center-left party. The Terran Coalition had numerous splinter parties, and neither of the mainstream parties could govern without a broad coalition. For many years after the start of the League/Coalition war, there had been broad consensus that produced unity governments. Over the last ten years, that consensus had collapsed. The Left favored limited military engagement with a focus on diplomatically ending the war while the Right favored increased military spending, a buildup of the fleet, and a policy of unconditional surrender by the League as the only acceptable end to the war. Spencer’s coalition was made up of numerous center-right political organizations, including Likud from New Israel, the United Arab League from New Arabia, and many others. Spencer himself had served in the military for ten years before getting out and going into politics. He strongly favored building up the Coalition Defense Force, and it was his leadership that provided a nearly unlimited stream of funds for the Victory Project. It didn’t hurt that Spencer had at one point served under the command of General MacIntosh.

As the last invited member of the meeting took a seat, Spencer strode into the room. Immediately, everyone stood as a sign of respect for the office of the president. “Ladies, gentlemen, please be seated.” Spencer was known for being a bit of a cowboy. He wasn’t afraid to say what he meant or to shoot from the hip. Taking his seat next to Secretary of Defense Dunleavy, he nodded to begin.

“Mr. President, generals. I have asked for this meeting to discuss a new development in the war.” Dunleavy paused for a moment. “Earlier this morning, we received this communiqué from the League.” He pressed a button on his tablet and the message appeared on the tablets of all in the room, as well as the holographic projector at the back of the conference room.

Spenser looked up from it after a moment, his eyes wide. “A peace proposal with a joint proposal to the Saurians? But they’ve been steadily pushing us back with this new ‘Spring Offensive,’ as they keep calling it.”

Barton leaned forward, a slight smile forming on his face. “I think this is the opening we’ve all been waiting for, gentlemen. Mr. President, I suggest we act on this proposal as soon as possible.”

MacIntosh’s face turned red as he listened to Barton’s comments. “General, Mr. President, we cannot afford to look weak in the face of this offer. We must listen to what they have to say, but we cannot just give them whatever they want.”

Dunleavy made eye contact with Spencer before he spoke. “Mr. President, I am torn on this issue. While victory has been the goal of the Coalition Defense Force for the last twenty-seven years, an honorable peace that preserves our territory and returns the border planets lost to us is acceptable to me. I cannot stress enough, however, that I view any peace offering from the League with some measure of skepticism. We must consider, in my opinion, this offer to be a ruse until proven otherwise.”

“That kind of mindset will continue this war until we’re finally defeated and enslaved. Mr. President, we must seize this opportunity and exploit it for all it’s worth, even if we don’t get everything we want out of peace,” Barton said, making his voice heard.

Spencer sat back in his chair. Of all the possible outcomes of the war, this wasn’t one he had considered. He knew the Saurian Empire had been pressing the League to start peace talks. Not that we ever thought they’d bear fruit. I figured the only reason the Saurians were trying to help us was to repay what they felt was a debt of honor. “I understand the arguments on both sides, and I believe we’ve got to entertain this request. According to the communiqué, they would like to send one warship and a cargo ship with POWs, including the former president’s daughter, to be turned over to us as a show of good faith, followed by being escorted to Canaan for these proposed peace talks. Any objections to that sequence of events?”

“Mr. President, I feel that we cannot allow a League warship within Canaan’s defense perimeter. Even if it’s not a ruse, they could gather intelligence on our static defenses and the home defense fleet,” Dunleavy said.

“As commander of the home defense fleet, I feel those risks are overstated, Mr. Secretary,” Barton interjected. “Allowing a single ship in is an acceptable risk for peace. I suggest we send the Ark Royal to escort the League’s flagship to Canaan.”

MacIntosh leaned forward in his seat and glanced toward Spencer, “Mr. President, while I agree that we must entertain this peace offer, I suggest a different approach. Instead of the Ark Royal, I propose we send the Lion of Judah. She’s almost ready for launch, and a powerful new battleship appearing in front of the League will put us in a position of strength for talks, and it might shake them up a bit and put them off balance.”

“The Lion of Judah? The ship hasn’t even had a shakedown run yet. It’s not fit for duty or combat, and its commanding officer is questionable in a diplomatic situation. In his last combat, he rammed an enemy ship, for God’s sake! On top of that, General, do you really want to reveal our new technology and weapons platform to the enemy?”

“If it’s so unproven and not fit for duty, what harm could there be in showing it to the enemy, General Barton? As far as I’m concerned, the Lion is the best option and will keep the League off balance. Keeping them off balance during a diplomatic situation furthers our goals.”

“I agree with General MacIntosh,” Spencer said. Barton’s opinion carried little weight with him as a political appointee from the previous administration. The man is a defeatist and I ought to have him replaced. “The Victory Project has caused a lot of rumors for a while now both at home and within the League. A dramatic unveiling will help boost the morale of our citizens and shake up the League intelligence network. Andrew, can the Lion of Judah be ready for duty in forty-eight hours?”

MacIntosh nodded firmly. “Yes, sir.”

Spencer stood. “Then you have your orders, General.” Looking at Dunleavy, he continued. “Charles, get Andrew anything he needs, anything at all. If there’s any red tape, bring it to me and I’ll remove it. Via executive order if I have to.”

The assembled company bristled with energy as they waited to be dismissed, but Spencer had one more request for them. “If you all would, please take a moment and pray for the success of this endeavor.” He bowed his head with the rest of those in the room. “Lord, we ask you to bless this peace offering. Please grant strength, wisdom, and courage to all of us, and especially the crew of the Lion of Judah and her commander. Amen.” He lifted his head and looked at the men and women in the room. “Meeting is adjourned, ladies and gentlemen. Good luck, and Godspeed.”

17

Sheila was in the Lion’s main engineering space, looking up at the massive anti-matter reactor and its associated fuel and cooling systems. Not much of an engineer, she was still wowed by the scale of the technology in front of her. From her eye, the reactor assembly looked larger than the entire engineering space on the Rabin. Hundreds of engineers and technicians swarmed over every foot of the space, many wearing CDF uniforms, but a surprisingly large number wore civilian clothes. The voice of Dr. Hayworth boomed out from the center of a group of engineers. “You idiot!” he shouted. “You’re supposed to monitor the anti-matter mix and ensure it remains within the safe zone. Now get back to your stations and try again!”

She smirked a bit, listening to the man rant. David had warned her Hayworth was difficult, but she wanted to see for herself. As the group of engineers scattered, Sheila walked over to introduce herself. “Dr. Hayworth?”

Hayworth looked at her. “Yes? What can I do for you? Want an autograph?” he asked.

“No, Doctor. I’m Major Sheila Thompson, the Lion’s second officer.” She extended her hand towards him, intending to shake his.

Hayworth looked at her hand for several seconds like it was from a different planet. Another female voice spoke from behind him. “Doctor! Remember your manners!”

Merriweather emerged from behind an engineering console; appropriately chastened, Hayworth took Sheila’s hand and shook it.

“Pleasure to meet you, Major.”

Merriweather extended her own hand. “Major Elizabeth Merriweather, CDF Special Programs division.”

Sheila took her outstretched hand. “Major Sheila Thompson, second officer.” After a moment, Sheila continued. “This is truly an incredible feat of engineering. I must compliment you both.”

Hayworth ran his eyes over her uniform. Noting a lack of religious insignia, he asked, “Can I count you among the enlightened, Major?”

“The enlightened?”

“Those of us who worship nothing but science.”

“I’m afraid not, Doctor.”

“A pity. So hard to find another that thinks like I do.”

Sheila fought not to roll her eyes at Hayworth, but Merriweather moved to defuse the tension. “Major, were you an engineer at some point in your career?” she asked.

“No…but I know what an incredible feat of engineering looks like when I see it,” Sheila said with a smile.

“It would be nice if the military stopped pushing me to complete this ship ahead of schedule. They’d be less likely to get a ship that breaks down on its first jump.”

Sheila had a hard time digesting Hayworth’s demeanor; it was clear the man was simply a jerk. “We still have two weeks before early trials start. I’m sure that’s enough time, from the reports I read this morning.”

Merriweather and Hayworth stared at Sheila for a moment. “Haven’t you heard, young lady?” Hayworth asked in a smug tone.

Sheila shook her head. “Heard what?”

“CDF command wants this ship in space in forty-eight hours. Don’t you military types talk to each other?”

Sheila reached down and pulled up her personal communicator. Quickly skimming the messages, she found one from General MacIntosh to the command staff, calling for a staff meeting and asking for all departments to be ready to launch in two days. “I guess I missed that one. I had my communicator on silent this morning.”

Hayworth rolled his eyes openly. “I’ve got to get back to work to meet this insane deadline.” With that, he turned on his heel and stalked off.

Merriweather appear to try and smooth things over as best as she could. “I’m sorry, Major; the doctor is a bit temperamental. This project is his magnum opus to science, if you will. He’s put everything into it. Please excuse his behavior.”

Sheila smiled. I wonder why she’s making excuses for him. “Of course, Major. I’m sure he’s under a lot of stress. I’d better get to the bridge and check in with Colonel Cohen. Sounds like we’ve had a significant change in plans.” Her expression darkened. “I hope there hasn’t been a serious setback in the war. We don’t need that right now.”

“I know. I’ve been insulated from the war a lot by working for the special projects team, but I know we’ve been getting hammered in the past year.”

“Don’t worry, we’ve given it back just as much as we’ve taken,” Sheila replied with faux confidence. In truth, she was worried too. She didn’t know anyone in the service that wasn’t.

“Glad to hear. I’d better get back to work too, Major. Godspeed.”

“Same to you,” Sheila said, turning to walk away.

* * *

Kenneth Lowe, the assigned program manager from Strathclyde Shipboard Integrators for the shipboard systems installation contract for the Lion, looked over the message that just popped up on his tablet. He and his deputy, Joshua Carter, sat in a small office onboard the Lion of Judah that had been assigned to him by the program executive office. With over four hundred personnel, he had one of the largest teams of contractors on the ship. Kenneth had worked for SSI for nearly ten years, and at thirty-five years of age, he was the youngest senior program manager in the company. Assigned to the Lion out of spite for his insistence on following the Coalition Acquisition Regulations, Kenneth was something of an oddity. He came from a military family but didn’t like taking orders he couldn’t question, and had not renewed his enlistment after his initial draft period. That aside, he loved working for the military. Being a part of something larger than himself gave meaning and purpose to his life, and he took a great deal of pride in the idea that his work and the work of his team supported the men and women on the business end of the spear. As he quickly read over the message, his jaw dropped.

“Josh, I think we have a problem.”

“What now, sir?”

“The program executive office for CDF Special Projects just instructed us to complete our work in the next thirty-six hours and have the Lion ready for deployment.”

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” Joshua said, causing Kenneth to raise an eyebrow. Joshua never cussed.

He passed the tablet to Joshua. “Have a look for yourself.”.

After scanning the message, Joshua looked back up. “There’s no way we can have this ship combat ready in less than two days. They must want it to meet the League peace delegation we heard about earlier.”

“You may be right…but we can’t let them get out there without a working ship. I think we could have her ready in four days, if we worked twenty-four hours a day and nothing went wrong.”

“But we don’t have four days, boss.”

“We do if we stay on the ship when it gets into space. It’s at least two days’ journey to our border, even with the upgraded Lawrence drives.”

“It’s not in our contract to be in the field, sir. Not only that, you know Casey won’t let us do it without extracting overtime and hazard pay from the CDF…” Joshua said, his voice trailing off at the end.

Kenneth rolled his eyes at the mention of Stephen Casey, the SSI Vice President he reported to. Among all the people in SSI he had to report to, Casey was one of the worst. Seemingly focused on squeezing as much profit out of the military as he could, he’d come to loathe the man. In fact, he spent most of his job creatively figuring out how to get around his directives.

“To hell with Casey. I’m not letting this ship roll out of here without its systems working. Without fully functional shields, weapons systems, and the tactical network that links it all together, this thing is a flying coffin,” Kenneth spat.

Joshua sat back. About ten years older than Kenneth, he was usually the voice of temperament, but this time, he was silent for a moment. “Are you willing to fall on your sword for that?” he asked.

Kenneth nodded firmly. “This mission might be the end of the war. If it costs me my career to ensure this ship’s ready to meet the challenge, that’s worth it to me,” he said evenly.

“Then let’s get moving…and you don’t get to quit without me. They fire you, I’m right behind you,” Joshua said, grinning at the same time.

Kenneth laughed. “Have our leads pulse the entire team on who’s willing to stay aboard, and make sure they do not pressure anyone. This is strictly a volunteer assignment.”

At that moment, the door swung open and another man, Harold Billings, one of the leads on the Lion of Judah project, stuck his head in. Kenneth had nicknamed Harold “Master Chief” because he was older and had many youngsters on his team. “Hey, boss.”

Kenneth motioned him inside. “Good timing, Master Chief, come on in. We’ve got a lot to discuss.”

18

David sat at one end of the table in the main conference room onboard his new ship. Most of the senior command crew was present, including now Lt. Colonel Calvin Demood, Major Sheila Thompson, Major Arthur Hanson, First Lieutenants Ruth Goldberg and Shelly Hammond, the ship’s third watch officer and backup navigator, as well as First Lieutenant Robert Taylor. Furthermore, the promotions for Sheila and Hanson had been processed and awarded. Major Elizabeth Merriweather was also in attendance, as she was assigned to the Lion of Judah for the duration of her shakedown.

Dr. Hayworth was absent, as David had ordered that the civilian engineer not be present for military command briefings. In truth, he didn’t want the man around period, although he knew that he had no choice but to work with him.

General MacIntosh walked through the door at the far end of the room, followed by an older man also in a CDF uniform wearing a medical patch. The entire assembled staff stood and braced to attention. “As you were, ladies and gentlemen.” At MacIntosh’s command, they resumed their seats.

“Before we begin,” MacIntosh said, “I’d like to introduce everyone to Dr. Izmet Tural, the chief medical officer for the Lion of Judah. I’d give you time for introductions now, but we have urgent matters to discuss, so please be seated.”

Tural took a seat at an open chair while MacIntosh remained standing.

“Two days ago, League military operations across the entire front halted. All active combat operations were ceased, and troops pulled out of ten contested systems where the League commenced invasions. We’ve even gotten reports that on partially occupied worlds, the League armies have ended direct combat operations.”

Calvin spoke up. “Sounds like they’re planning something big. It could be ‘48 all over again.”

“That’s what we thought, but yesterday, one of our ships on patrol intercepted a League transmission. The League wishes to commence peace negotiations immediately,” MacIntosh said.

While it had been an open secret this was coming, it was still a shock to the members of the command staff. Taylor was next to speak. “Twenty-six years of fighting and they’re coming to the table now?”

MacIntosh nodded. “Yes, I understand your skepticism, but our intelligence, corroborated from those neutral states that still favor us, indicates the League is facing a crisis in their home systems due to their war footing disrupting their economy. There are forces in their government that have already made statements to the effect of needing peace to deal with internal dissensions and economic stagnation. We believe these elements have now come to the fore in the League government. A peace party is en route to our border to be brought to Canaan for talks. They are aboard a League dreadnought, the LSS Destruction, and are accompanying a transport carrying a load of POWs to be returned to the Coalition as a gesture of good faith.”

“They’re really going to send a ship named like that on a peace mission?” Sheila asked incredulously.

“It’s the flagship of their mission’s overall commander. Admiral Pierre Seville.”

David’s expression shifted slightly. He recognized the name as the admiral who led the initial League assault on Canaan, the man his father gave his life in order to stop. “The man who led the initial attack on Canaan,” he said hoarsely. “My father died ramming his flagship.”

“One and the same. And you will be going out to meet him, Colonel.”

David felt MacIntosh’s eyes bore into him. “Sir?”

“The president and SecDef approved the proposal. We’re sending the Lion of Judah out to escort them in.”

“Sir, we’re still in preliminary shakedown preparation. We’re not even sure the anti-matter reactor will work properly in sustained operations.”

“The thought is that if we send a carrier, we’re simply reminding them of how we’ve devoted ourselves to a permanent defensive effort. But the Lion? She represents our new direction, a signal to the League that they need to take us seriously in the peace talks and afterward.”

“Ah, so... the League is sending a ship named Destruction to negotiate peace with us,” Sheila said, emphasizing the word “destruction,” “and we’re going to respond by sending a ship named after Jesus Christ to make peace with a nation of militant atheists. Is anyone else feeling a bit skeptical of our chances here?”

Various people chuckled among the assembled; even MacIntosh seemed amused, if in a subtle way. “There’s nothing you can say about the ship’s name I haven’t already heard from Dr. Hayworth, Major Thompson.”

“So we’re being sent. Do we have enough stores for the trip?” David looked to Sheila.

“We were bringing aboard parts and items needed for the shakedown cruise. It’ll take a day or so to check over the life support system and charge up the atmosphere reserves from the station supply, but we should be ready to go within forty-eight hours.” She glanced at Hanson. “Provided the engines are ready.”

“Dr. Hayworth and his crew should have them ready, but I’m not sure about our readiness to run the new antimatter reactor under full cruise conditions, much less combat,” Hanson said hesitantly.

“That’s why you’ll be taking Major Merriweather and Dr. Hayworth with you. She’ll oversee the operation of the reactor for the duration of this mission.” MacIntosh drew in a breath. “Listen, I know some of you are going to be skeptical about this. I am too. If anything suspicious happens, report it and keep your guard up, but I shouldn’t have to tell you that if we can put together a negotiated peace with the League, it would mean a lot for the Coalition.”

“An end to the war,” Calvin said slowly. “Demilitarization, no more military oversight in the border worlds, getting the civil services back up...”

“No more killing,” Sheila added.

“Let’s just hope they’re thinking the same thing,” David said. Sheila gave him an uncomfortable look, but he didn’t outwardly acknowledge it. “Okay, everyone, let’s get busy. We’ve got to be ready to go in forty-eight hours. Time is wasting.”

Everyone at the table nodded. “You heard your CO. Let’s get to work! Dismissed!” MacIntosh said.

The team stood to leave, and as they did, each stopped to welcome Dr. Tural to the ship and the crew. Sheila shot David a glance, raising an eyebrow in question to him, which, while it was noticed, he opted not to respond to. He knew she was going to ask some very tough questions later about where his mind was at in dealing with Admiral Seville. After everyone else filed out of the room, David and MacIntosh were alone.

“Sir, our fighter and bomber squadrons aren’t due for another two weeks. We’ll be going out there without their support.”

“We’re going to arrange for you to rendezvous with the Pat Tillman,” MacIntosh replied. “They’ll transfer some of their squadrons to you. You’ll also be receiving your CAG, Major Amir.”

“Hassan Amir?”

“Yes. You’ve met, I presume?”

“When I was the XO on the Audacious, sir. I’m looking forward to having him as my CAG.”

“Well, that’s good to know.” MacIntosh retrieved a data disc from the wardroom computer. “I’ll be keeping tabs on your preparation. You’re getting top priority for everything you need to be ready for departure by order of the president.”

“What about my XO?” David asked. “Major Thompson has been assigned as the navigator and second watch officer, but I haven’t seen the service jacket of any XO candidates as of yet.”

“You won’t be getting your XO in time. For the time being, you can have the major functioning as XO. Use First Lieutenant Shelly Hampton as your navigator. She was to be the second shift navigator.”

David nodded. “Thank you, sir. That should work out fine.”

“Good luck out there, Colonel. We all pray this will be a success but be ready for anything. You should know that President Spencer, personally, led a prayer for your success in my presence.”

David allowed a smile to cross his face. “I’ll take all the help I can get on this one, sir.”

MacIntosh turned toward the door. “Carry on, Colonel. Godspeed.”

19

“Are you sure I can’t talk you out of this, General?” David said, pausing before the double doors that said “Studio C.”

“We’ve been on this, Cohen. You’re doing the interview,” MacIntosh said, pointing toward the door.

“I’m a ship driver, sir—”

“So you’ve said, Colonel. Do I need to explain yet again to you that the Lion of Judah has as much morale and public relations value as it does in military might?”

“Point taken, sir,” David said, resigning himself to the task ahead. He’d been trying to get out of the assignment for the last six hours, without success. Why not at least get me onto a broadcast that’s remotely pro-CDF?

“I’ll be in the broadcast booth upstairs while you handle the interview, Colonel. Remember to tout the Lion’s technology without revealing classified information, and to signal our support for the peace process.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Carry on, Colonel.”

MacIntosh disappeared through another door, leaving David to push through in the studio. He found it teeming with employees of the news channel—Galactic News Network—and the reporter that he was to sit down with, Leslie Sharp. I’ve seen her reports, God only knows how many times. She’s so slanted against the CDF, it’s laughable. Again wishing he was anywhere but the studio, he pulled his uniform jacket down one last time, put a smile on his face, and made his way to the interview chair. The chair was positioned directly in front of a desk, and behind it was Sharp.

“Ms. Sharp,” David said.

“Colonel. Please, have a seat. Ready to go?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“It’ll just be a moment.”

There’s something about her voice that’s fake. David took a sip of water as the director of the show gave a countdown. When the count reached two, Sharp waited three seconds before speaking directly into the camera.

“This is Leslie Sharp with the Galactic News Network. Tonight, we have a special guest, Colonel David Cohen, commanding officer of the newly revealed CSV Lion of Judah. Welcome, Colonel.”

David smiled toward the camera awkwardly. “Thank you, Ms. Sharp. It’s a pleasure to be speaking with you tonight.”

Leslie looked him in the eye with a one-hundred-watt, trademark holonet smile. The effect reminded David of a used helicar salesman. “Just to introduce you to our viewers tonight, how long have you been in the Coalition Defense Force, Colonel?”

“Twenty years, ma’am.”

“I understand it’s nearly impossible to make colonel after being drafted as an enlisted soldier. Sounds like you’ve had an exceptional career, Colonel.”

David wasn’t sure where she was going with this line of questioning. “I’ve done the best I can with the abilities given to me by God, ma’am.”

“I see. Has the fact that your father was in effect the hero of the Terran Coalition helped your career along?”

David fought to keep a grimace off his face. “I wouldn’t know, ma’am. I’ve certainly never made anything of it. If anything, I’d rather it never come up. My father would have never considered himself a hero. He used to remind me often that some things, like our freedoms, are just worth fighting for. That’s what he dedicated his life to.”

“He sounds like a noble man.”

“He was.”

“I understand that in your last combat, you rammed an enemy warship?”

Alarm bells went off in David’s head. What exactly is she trying to do? “Ah, yes, I did, ma’am,” David said hesitantly.

“And why was that, Colonel? Ramming another ship is usually fatal, isn’t it?” She continued with the one-hundred-watt smile still at full blast.

“Because a League ship was bearing down on a group of transports with civilians onboard, and I had no other way to stop that ship from killing tens of thousands of civilians,” David said with a trace of an edge to his voice.

“I’m sure you can understand, Colonel, that billions of citizens around the Coalition want to make sure that this wondrous new ship we’re sending into space to meet the League is commanded by an able officer.”

“Of course, ma’am, and I will do my duty to the utmost of my ability. I think everyone in the Terran Coalition is praying that our next mission will be a success, and that we will achieve a peace agreement with the League of Sol.”

“Do you believe your superiors in the Coalition Defense Force want the peace talks to succeed?” she asked again with the sweetest voice she could muster.

“Of course they do.”

“I see. Do you think that the League will be willing to forgive the atrocities committed by the CDF during the last twenty-seven years of war?”

David fought to keep his voice neutral. He had expected some kind of ambush, but not quite this. “And what atrocities might those be, ma’am?”

For just a moment, the one-hundred-watt smile faded. “The dozens of documented incidents where CDF forces have killed League civilians, and in some cases, our own civilians in their overzealous attempts to kill League troops.”

“Do you know what the rules of engagement are in areas that have civilians in them, Ms. Sharp?” David asked, using his own version of the one-hundred-watt smile.

“I’m familiar with them, yes.”

“Then you know that to fire any type of weapon other than a battle rifle or sidearm in an engagement with civilians present, a JAG attorney must sign off on the strike,” David said, just a tad smugly.

“I fail to see what that matters, Colonel. Let’s get back to—”

“It matters that a legal representative reviews each request in real time and approves or disapproves the request,” he interrupted. “I’ve served on the front lines, ma’am. I’ve seen Marines killed from enemy fire coming from buildings with human shields in them and good men and women die because we are so against killing civilians, we wouldn’t return fire. With all due respect, the CDF does anything and everything possible to avoid innocent deaths.” Fire burned in his eyes as he looked at her.

Leslie sat just a bit taller in her chair. “Are you trying to say that the CDF has never killed a civilian, Colonel?” she asked incredulously.

“No, ma’am. I’m saying we don’t kill civilians on purpose. I’m saying we do everything we can to save civilians. I’m also saying that when we capture League soldiers, they’re interned in camps that are better living accommodations than some of our citizens have. They get three hot meals a day, which is more than the men and women serving on my ship get, and I’m sick and tired of hearing people second-guessing the tens of millions of men and women who put their lives on the line every day to defend them,” David said, his voice firm with his convictions.

“Are you trying to say I don’t have the right to criticize the military, Colonel?” Sharp said, her lips tight.

“You have every right to, ma’am. But try to remember that if the League won the war, you’d be among the first people they shot.”

“That…” She sputtered for a moment. “And why would you say that, Colonel?”

“Because the League needs people like you to drive our morale down and question the ethics of our military. Once it wins, it doesn’t need you anymore. I think we all know what happens to people who aren’t needed by the League. You can ask our ancestors or you could ask the families of the nearly forty thousand dead soldiers from the initial League invasion of Canaan.”

It was clear that she was shocked by the forcefulness of David’s response. “I see, Colonel. Well, I think our viewers can make up their minds about your fitness to command the first peace mission with the League of Sol.”

David took the barb in stride. “I’m sure they can, ma’am. After all, peace comes through strength.”

“And how exactly is that, Colonel?” she asked, taking the bait.

“We all know the history of the first League attack. They decided they could overwhelm us with one massive strike. While it failed, it was close. If we had a massive military advantage over them, they wouldn’t have attacked. And with our new breed of ships and technology, that will provide strength and encourage peace.”

“I guess we will find out, Colonel. Thank you for joining us tonight.”

“Thank you for having me, ma’am.”

As the director indicated they were off the air, Sharp stood up and stormed off without a word to David. He was left sitting in the chair for a few minutes until MacIntosh came to collect him. Standing at attention as MacIntosh strode in, he waited to see the reaction.

“Well, not quite what we expected, Colonel. Officially, I should reprimand you for getting into a political discussion on intergalactic holovision. Unofficially, jolly good show,” MacIntosh said with a smile.

David gave him a small smile in return. “Thank you, sir.”

“Now get back to your ship and get ready to go meet the League,” MacIntosh said in his normal gruff tone.

“Aye, sir,” David said, bracing to attention once more before walking off.

20

David swiped away on his tablet, seated behind the desk in the spacious interior of his office and stateroom, also known as the day cabin, onboard the Lion of Judah. He was reviewing CDF paperwork, one of the few constants in the universe. He smiled slightly to himself. No matter what happens in terms of advancing technology, the one thing the military is able to keep around is forms in triplicate. The communications line build into his desk chirped, indicating a call from the bridge. He pressed the button to answer it, speaking into the mic. “Yes?”

Sheila’s voice filled the room. “Sir, I’m sorry to disturb you, but the SSI program manager assigned to our ship wishes to meet with you.”

David rolled his eyes. “XO, what does he want?” he asked with more than a trace of annoyance in his voice.

“He wants to discuss preparations for launching the ship, sir.”

David grimaced. “He probably wants me to authorize extended overtime on his contract,” he commented dryly. He shook his head and stared at the speaker. “Send him in, XO.”

“Aye, sir!”

A few minutes later, the hatch to David’s office opened, and a tall, broad-shouldered man walked through, having to duck under the hatch due to his extreme height. He pulled himself up to his full height and stood in front of the desk.

“Colonel, please allow me to introduce myself. My name is Kenneth Lowe and I’m the program manager from SSI assigned to the Lion of Judah’s shipboard systems implementation team.” He placed his hands behind his back.

“Colonel David Cohen. What can I do for you, Mr. Lowe?”

Kenneth glanced down at the desk. “I wanted to discuss the disposition of your ship, sir, and work through getting her as ready as possible for when you put her into space in thirty-six hours.”

As Kenneth spoke, David’s face contorted into something of a scowl. He’d had many run-ins with defense contractors over the years and detested the desire of what seemed like most of them to get as much money out of the military as possible. Especially when the military was always short of funds. “Mr. Lowe, let me be clear with you. I’m not in the mood for being shaken down for additional money and I’m not even the right person to talk about it.”

Kenneth’s face clouded over. “Colonel, I’m not here to ask for additional funds,” he began, clearly taken aback by David’s assumption. “I realize that contractors have a reputation for money grubbing, but I’m here to make sure this ship does what you need it to, when you need it to do it. Given the scope of work and the time allotted, there’s no way I can have you combat ready in thirty-six hours.”

David nodded slowly. “I expected that. The military crew will keep working once we put her into space…I would appreciate it if your teams would be willing to transfer as much technical knowledge about the ship’s systems in the time we have left.”

“Gladly, sir. But I’d like to offer our continued services once you put into space.”

David’s eyebrows shot up as he began to reevaluate the lanky defense contractor. “I’m sure you’re aware I can’t guarantee the safety of civilians on this ship once we leave space dock.”

Kenneth broke into a small smile. “Oh, of course, sir. We know the score, and my team volunteered. I believe that by the time you reach your rendezvous point, we’ll have primary weapons and shields fully online and operational.”

David stood up from his desk and glanced up at Kenneth. “Perhaps I was bit hasty in my judgment of you, Kenneth.”

Kenneth extended his hand; David took it and shook warmly.

“This isn’t just a job to us, Colonel; it’s a calling. Most of my team are veterans, and regardless of the bean counters back on New Washington, we’re here to make these ships right. I hope to prove that to you.”

David smiled back at the man. “You’ve already gone a long way down that road. Tell me, just how tall are you anyway?”

Kenneth rolled his eyes. “If I had a credit for every time someone asked me that,” he said with mock annoyance. “Six feet, ten inches. It’s why I never got to serve on a ship. I did my four years on shore duty.”

“Well, I hope you and your team can get us ready. I don’t want to have to fight, but I need to be ready to fight.”

“Aye, sir. You’ll be ready. If you don’t mind, sir, I’d better get back down there.”

David stepped back behind his desk. “Carry on, Mr. Lowe.”

21

The next day, David found a few spare minutes to put knickknacks out in his day cabin. As the commanding officer of a warship was never off duty during situations in which combat or adverse action could be expected, he slept near the bridge rather than in his larger stateroom below decks. In decorating the cabin, it had slowly become his own over the last forty-eight hours. Mostly due to his personal effects, the room had some character to it now that belonged solely to him.

One of his favorite knickknacks was an inert hand grenade bolted to a plaque that read “Complaint Department, Please Take a Number,” a small “One” hanging off the firing pin of the grenade. It had been a gift from a Marine Corps master gunnery sergeant that served under David in a past assignment. It always got looks and was a great conversation starter to first-timers to his office.

A buzzer sounded as someone rang the bell to his office.

“Come in,” David said, causing the computer to open the door.

A tall, striking woman walked in. David quickly sized her up. Her skin was coal black and her uniform had the flag of the African Union in the country position; below it was the Christian flag. She walked quickly into the room and came to attention stiffly. “Master Chief Rebecca Tinetariro reporting for duty as ordered, sir!” she announced in a rather posh British accent.

David stood up from his desk and offered a smile. “At ease, Master Chief.”

Tinetariro relaxed into a parade rest stance, and David walked around the desk, extending his hand. “Welcome aboard.”

Tinetariro looked at the hand for a moment before taking it and shaking. “Thank you, sir.”

David took notice of her vise-like grip.

He gestured to the nearest chair. “Please, have a seat,” he said before walking back around his desk. She followed suit, taking a seat in the chair with very rigid posture.

“I looked over your service jacket, Master Chief. Nearly twenty-seven years in the CDF,” David said, looking for some rapport. After all, Tinetariro’s position as Master Chief made her the senior enlisted person onboard the ship. For what they were about to do on such notice, she had to be in sync with the officers.

“Yes, sir. I enlisted the week after the attack on Canaan.”

“I see. Looking to drop two thousand pounds of freedom on our friends in the League?” David asked, a trace of a smile forming on his lips.

For the first time, Tinetariro’s face relaxed just a hair and she allowed a small smile to grace her face. “Something like that, sir.”

“I was drafted myself. Though by the time I came of age, the war had been on for ten years.”

Tinetariro studied David for a moment. “I must confess, sir; I would have never expected to see a mustang be given a command like this.”

It was something David had thought of as well. A mustang was an officer that had been enlisted prior and was generally looked down on by the rest of the officer corps, but more respected by the enlisted soldiers.

“I was surprised by it too. But God works in strange ways sometimes.”

Tinetariro smiled. “That he does, Colonel.” She glanced at the patches on his shoulder. “Orthodox, sir?”

David nodded. “Born and bred,” he said with a smile. “I’m going to go out on a limb and say Christian for you.”

Tinetariro laughed. “Methodist, sir, and I hope this ship has a good gospel choir.”

David’s face lit up. He had heard a gospel choir before when Sheila had dragged him to a worship session. While not a Christian, he did find himself tapping along with the beat. “I’ve heard an old school gospel choir before. I quite enjoyed it.”

Tinetariro harrumphed. “When I finish working them into shape, I’ll invite you, sir.”

David returned to more serious matters. “I’m concerned that we’re putting into space with an untested crew, Master Chief. I need you to ensure our enlisted personnel are ready for action in the next two days as we make our way to the rendezvous point with the League.”

Tinetariro made eye contact with David. “I’ll have them squared away, sir. You’ll think they’ve been gelled for six months when I’m done.” If I was still a young corporal, the way she smiled when saying that would make my blood run cold.

“Glad to hear it, Master Chief. I’d better get back to preparing for our final briefing by General MacIntosh.”

Tinetariro stood and braced to attention. “Yes, sir. Let me know if there’s anything you need from me, sir.”

“Of course, Master Chief. Dismissed.”

She turned smartly forward and left David’s office. He sat back in his chair for a moment, hopeful that she was just what the doctor had ordered in ensuring tight discipline onboard.

After Tinetariro left, David continued to work on his briefing materials for General MacIntosh, detailing what was fully functional onboard and what remained to be completed. He was still compiling that list when his video link chimed with an inbound request from the general. He pressed the button on his tablet to initialize the link, and a moment later, General MacIntosh’s face appeared on the tablet.

“Good afternoon, General.”

“Good afternoon, Colonel. Ready to go?”

“Yes, sir. Not quite one hundred percent, but we’ll get there.”

“What’s not quite one hundred percent?”

“Our weapons and shields are not fully operational at this point in time. The onboard engineering team believes that by the time we reach our destination in two days, we’ll be at full operational capability.”

MacIntosh furrowed his brow. “I see. Does this have anything to do with some of the contractors not disembarking as planned?”

David raised an eyebrow in surprise. How did MacIntosh find out about that so fast? He hadn’t told anyone. “Well, sir, uh…perhaps.”

MacIntosh laughed. “I have eyes in the back of my head, Colonel.”

David nervously laughed to himself. “I see, sir. They volunteered.”

“I heard that too. Rare breed, that lead contractor for SSI. He actually seems to care more about us than he does about squeezing the CDF for money.”

“I noticed as well, sir.”

“I really hope you have no need for those weapons or shielding systems, Colonel. I pray you don’t,” MacIntosh said earnestly.

“Nor do I, sir. Though hope is not a strategy, so we must be prepared for any possibility.”

“Quite right.”

“I’ve put together a briefing for you, sir, on our status.”

“I only have one question, Colonel. Are you ready?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then no further briefing needed. I’ll be monitoring your progress reports back to Canaan, and I urge you at all times to be as diplomatic as possible and extend all courtesies to Admiral Seville.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And if there’s any possible thought in your head about sticking it to that guy because of your history with him, you’d better dig a big hole, bury that thought in it, and put a rock over it. Are we clear, son?”

“Yes, sir,” David said with clear directness in his voice. David had already come to that conclusion but having MacIntosh remind him one more time of the stakes did little to reassure him.

“I have the utmost confidence in you, Colonel. Now get out there, bring Seville and his lot back to Canaan without incident, and help us win this war without firing a shot.”

David sat just slightly taller in his chair at MacIntosh’s words. “Yes, sir!” he replied with a new determination in his voice.

“Godspeed, son. MacIntosh out.”

The picture blinked off, leaving David alone with his thoughts. While it comforted David to know that MacIntosh had confidence in his abilities out here all alone, being the man responsible for bringing Seville in safely and without causing a diplomatic incident scared David to his core. David projected confidence; it was part and parcel for being the commanding officer of a powerful warship. But there were times, alone and lost in his thoughts, that doubts surfaced within his soul, making him question so many decisions that he had made, and the things he had to do. Can I do this? Am I really the best person for this job? were common thoughts David had when he let it all hang out in his mind. As he normally did when these thoughts surfaced, he said a short prayer in Hebrew, asking God to give him strength and wisdom. Focusing back on the task at hand, he resolved to take one problem at a time. As Major Pipes used to tell him, “Work the problem. Solve one issue at a time, then move on to the next one, son.” The next item on the list was to get the ship launched successfully and meet the Destruction in two days.

The chime on David’s office door rang, snapping him out of his thoughts. “Come.” His voice caused the door to unlock automatically. The hatch opened, and Sheila strode into his office. David’s face lit up. “Have a seat, XO.”

“Not for long, I’m afraid,” she said dryly, plopping down in the chair directly in front of David’s desk.

“If we do well on this assignment, I think they’ll let you stick around in the XO’s chair,”

“I am trying to stay focused on the task at hand, rather than the possible future.”

“One problem at a time.”

“Exactly. Which is why I’m here,” Sheila said, her tone all business.

David raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“I want to be sure you’re in the right state of mind for this.”

“For making peace with the League?”

“For meeting the man who killed your father and to make peace with him, as well as the League.”

“I’m okay, Sheila.” He invoked her name for a more personal discussion.

“David, I want to believe that, but the way you are acting shows something different. You’re putting up a great front, but I’ve known you for too long to believe the show you are putting on.”

“I’m fine, Sheila. Seriously.”

She was silent for a moment. “I’m praying for you and your ability to do this.”

“I’ll take it. Even from a gentile.” David cracked a smile.

“Hah,” Sheila replied before turning serious once again. “I don’t understand why they sent Seville. Of all the people in the League, they’ve got to send him. Why not a neutral representative?”

“They are sending a neutral representative, actually. A diplomatic minister named Carl Jenner. Intelligence suggests he’s part of a faction within the League that has been pushing for peace.”

“Interesting.”

“How are we looking in terms of final readiness?”

“In what way? All departments briefed ready at our last staff meeting.”

“I know, but… are they really ready?”

Sheila nodded her head empathically. “Yes. I’ve never seen a more motivated group of people than the set of people on this ship, from the military personnel to the civilians. They want success and they’ll do just about anything in their own power to make that success a reality.”

“I’ve seen it too, but I wanted to hear it from you to be sure.”

Sheila pointed to the clock on the wall behind David. “I think it’s about time for us to get up to the bridge and get this show on the road, sir.”

David stood and offered her a smile. “That it is.” He straightened his uniform before stepping from behind the desk. “How the heck did we end up in charge of the largest warship in the Terran Coalition?”

“Right place, right time?”

David laughed. “More like wrong place, wrong time. I thought the weight was heavy with four hundred fifty personnel and a two-hundred-and-fifty-meter destroyer to command. This is something else entirely.”

“Isn’t it the least bit fun, though?”

“Oh, it’s like nothing else I’ve ever done. I wish my father could see it. While the Cohens have long served in the military, I’m the first to make it to colonel in at least a hundred years.”

As they walked out of the hatch and into the passageway that led to the gravlift, with a bit of a smile on her face, Sheila commented dryly, “Don’t let it go to your head, Colonel, sir.”

David laughed again. “Oh, that’s what you’re around for, XO.”

They both laughed as they walked into the gravlift. “Deck One,” David said to the voice-driven computer that controlled the lift.

“Deck One acknowledged, Colonel. Identity confirmed.”

“I just realized I missed morning prayers again,” David said.

“There’s mid-morning, lunch time, and evening prayers to make up for it.”

“Very funny, XO.”

Sheila turned on a dazzling smile. “I’ve been giving you crap about how many times you have to pray a day for nearly twenty years. You didn’t expect me to stop now, did you?”

David laughed as the gravlift moved, shifting them both to the side. “I could order you to.”

Sheila snorted. “Good luck, Colonel.”

“However this turns out, Sheila, I’m glad you’re with me. I couldn’t ask for a better friend to have with me as my second in command.”

Sheila turned to look at David and smiled. “I’m glad I can be here with you.”

Two armed Marine guards stood at the apex of the passageway, and as soon as David and Sheila exited the gravlift, both of them delivered crisp salutes, which were returned smartly by David and Sheila. He paused and extended his arm, gesturing to the hatch to the bridge. “Ladies first.”

Sheila rolled her eyes. “Going to hold the door for me too?”

“I know better than that.”

They both pulled their covers on as they walked into the bridge of the Lion of Judah together. As they did, Master Chief Tinetariro piped up, “Colonel on deck!”

Ruth, Hampton, and Taylor were already at their assigned bridge stations, awaiting the launch. The enlisted personnel stood and braced to attention along with the standing officers. Sheila stiffened as well, saluting David.

David’s hand came up to his brow in the practiced motion of a salute. He looked around the bridge of the ship—his ship—manned and ready for the first time. After a moment, he finished the salute and announced, “As you were.” Immediately, the crew went back to their assigned stations.

David glanced back at Sheila. “After you, XO.”

Sheila smiled and took her station. David followed after a moment and took his seat in the CO’s chair. David looked forward to Hammond and Ruth, who sat directly in front of the CO and XO at their respective stations. “Navigation, what is our launch readiness?”

“Sir, our reactor is powered up and operating normally. We are standing by to release moorings and umbilicals from the shipyard,” Hammond said.

“Conn, TAO. Ship defensive systems and weapons are ready—at least the weapons currently functional—and all weapons magazines are full,” Ruth added.

“So aside from a lack of fighters, we’re settled. And let’s hope our contractors can get our remaining weapon systems functional in short order,” David said as he looked forward.

David glanced down at his command seat and punched up the code for MC1. The tone for it swept the ship, and he spoke down toward the microphone built into his seat. “Attention, all hands, this is your commanding officer. We are about to launch on the most important mission that any of us have ever attempted. That mission is to escort the League back to Canaan, so that peace talks may commence.” David paused for a moment. “This is a day I doubt many of us thought would come. I know that I can count on all of you over the next several days to give one hundred and fifty percent effort as we continue to make repairs and gain control over our systems.”

David paused for a moment. “Very well. All hands, man this ship, and bring it to life!” he said, invoking the formal words to launch a ship.

“Navigation, release all moorings and umbilicals,” David stated, looking back to the front of the bridge.

“Aye, sir, releasing,” Hammond stated.

It took a few minutes for the thick tubes connecting the ship to the drydock to detach from the Lion’s hull. The airlock also detached and retracted, and dozens of small shuttles pulled back.

“Conn, Navigation. We’re now free of all moorings and umbilicals, sir,” Hammond said.

“Navigation, all ahead, dead slow until we clear the drydock.”

“Aye aye, sir, bringing main drives online.”

The Lion slowly began to move forward, and David could feel the G forces pressing him back into his seat, fighting the dampener fields that protected the crew from sudden acceleration and deceleration forces. Creeping at first, but gaining momentum, the shipyard faded from the forward view screen, leaving open space in its wake.

Taylor cleared his throat. “Conn, communications, receiving a message from CDF command. ‘Good luck, Godspeed, and be careful.’”

“Communications, acknowledge the message. Navigation, there are a set of rendezvous coordinates pre-loaded in. Please set our Lawrence drive to them.”

“Conn, navigation. Coordinates set. Lawrence drive at maximum power.”

Fighting down a wave of adrenaline, David leaned forward. “Navigation, open the hole, all ahead full.”

A massive artificial wormhole opened in front of the Lion of Judah; a construct of the Lawrence drive. The Lion’s sub-light ion engines flared at maximum thrust, and the ship flew straight into the center of the swirling mouth of the wormhole. In a moment, she disappeared and the wormhole closed behind her.

22

After the transit through the wormhole, it took several hours to fully recharge the massive Lawrence drive within safe parameters in order to avoid stressing the drive. Taking advantage of the downtime, David decided to go to the synagogue, also known as a shul to Orthodox Jews, onboard the Lion. The Lion held four different chapels: one dedicated as a synagogue, one as a Christian church used by all dominations, one as a mosque, and the last was used by other faiths, including a small group of secular humanists that met once a week to discuss the happenings of life and how they interacted with the universe. David had been remiss in visiting the synagogue since he had come onboard, and had conducted the morning, afternoon, and evening prayers in his office or quarters. But he longed to spend a few minutes around other believers, reciting the prayers of the Talmud and so he decided to simply make the time to join them. As he walked into the synagogue, he took his tallit gadol, or prayer shawl, out of the bag. A simple cloth carrying bag, it was embroidered with his name in Hebrew and was a gift from his mother dating back to his bar mitzvah.

David put the shawl over his head and took a seat in the back, not wanting to draw attention to himself as the commanding officer of the ship. Notwithstanding this, an older man immediately made his way to David and sat down next to him. “Allow me to introduce myself, Colonel. Rabbi Erez Kravitz.”

David looked over the man; he was somewhat squat and appeared to be in his late fifties or early sixties. Kravitz looked the part of a rabbi. He wore a prayer shawl as well, and under it, he had on a CDF duty uniform. David could make out from his rank insignia that he was a lieutenant colonel in the chaplain corps.

“Pleased to meet you, Rabbi. I’m David Cohen,” he said softly, not wishing to introduce his position or disrupt the other people praying.

“Ah yes, the commander of our vessel,” Kravitz said with a twinkle in his eye.

“I’m just here as a Jew, Rabbi,” David said, again trying to deflect any attention.

“Come now, Colonel. You are too modest.”

“Just trying to live what I believe, Rabbi.”

“Are you Orthodox?” Kravitz asked, a touch of surprise in his voice.

“My parents were both Orthodox, and I am as well. I’ve had to make some compromises to CDF regulations. I think you’d find I line up pretty well with the Modern Orthodox movement,” David explained.

Kravitz looked at him intently. “What compromises might those be, Colonel?”

David fought to keep a grimace from crossing his face. He did not want to get into a religious debate with the rabbi onboard his ship, and nearly any time he attempted to explain his motivations, it caused a debate. “As I am sure you know, Rabbi, while there are broad allowances for religious exemptions for conscripted soldiers, a career officer such as myself must maintain CDF personal appearance and grooming regulations. As well, I am often unable to observe Shabbat, and many other of our holidays.”

Kravitz nodded thoughtfully. “I would be curious as to your reasoning for this position, Colonel.”

David flipped a mental coin and decided to explain his reasoning to the rabbi; after all, he thought to himself that it would be nice to have a friendly relationship with the only rabbi within a few million miles. “I apply the principle of Pikuach Nefesh to my service in the CDF,” he said, referencing the principle in Jewish law that the preservation of human life overrides virtually any other religious consideration. “Given that we are at war, and my calling appears to be that of a solider, I must discharge my duties to the best of my ability.”

“I understand. I know that must be a difficult road to follow, but I commend you for your efforts to remain true to HaShem.”

Inwardly, David breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Rabbi.”

Kravitz patted David’s arm. “Please, come back as often as you can. I think where we are going, we’re going to need as much help from HaShem as He can possibly give us.”

David nodded. “I agree, Rabbi. Wherever our mission will take us, we cannot succeed without His help.”

Kravitz nodded and stood up, walking back to the front of the synagogue. David bowed his head for the next ten minutes and recited prayers from the Talmud before interjecting a plea to God. In Hebrew, he said, “Adonai, please bless this mission. If it is your will, please let there be peace, even with these vile and evil people. Too many have died, and I have so much blood on my hands. If it is not to be, please spare the lives of my crew and let them return safely home to their families.”

David raised his head after finishing his prayer. He never asked God, spoken as HaShem in conversation or Adonai in prayer, to allow him victory. He asked only that the lives of those under his command be saved, for he felt it was to embrace vanity to ask for victory. Standing and walking to the back of the room, he removed his prayer shawl and returned it to the bag his mother had given him. Exiting the synagogue and returning to his duties, he felt refreshed for the first time in several days.

* * *

“It’s good to see you back in this role, Antonov,” Pierre Seville, fleet admiral and overall commander of the League of Sol military expedition to claim the territories of the Terran Coalition, said as he shook the glass of brandy he held. His flagship, the League Starship Destruction, was on its way to meet up with the new CDF ship; the Lion of Judah. What an… odd name for a warship. No doubt based on a religious superstition.

Zehnya Antonov, the captain of his flagship, took a drink from his own glass, as he peered intently at Seville. “I’m glad to be here, Admiral. You plucking me from retirement was, well… it was the answer to an old man’s wish.”

“Farming carrots and goats not doing it for you?”

“No, Admiral. I felt useless. Discarded.”

“Same as I did, during my rehabilitation.”

“How’d you get out of it?”

“Much the same as you,” Seville said, his mouth curled up in a smile. “I had a benefactor that saw my potential.”

“You are too kind.”

“Nonsense. The League needs good officers.” And above all, I need loyal followers. “It’s a matter of matching the right people to the right positions.”

“I live to serve,” Antonov said as he finished his brandy.

“Your family, how are they?”

“Far better now that my wife doesn’t have to crawl on her hands and knees for root vegetables for us to eat.”

Seville’s face turned red. “An outrage.”

“Sir?” Antonov said, the unmistakable tenor of fear entering his voice.

“What our political commissar overlords do to cover their own ineptitude.” At the look of outright terror that crossed Antonov’s face, Seville only grinned. “Captain, do you really think I don’t have my quarters swept daily for surveillance systems? There’s nothing to fear here.”

“How do you do it, sir?” he asked very quietly.

“Simple. I watched how they play each other, and then copied it. I obtained leverage over the political officer—Colonel Strappi—that was assigned to my first ship after my rehabilitation. I allow him to think he has some level of power. I remind him when he oversteps that I could ruin him in an instant and cause him and his entire family to be put to death. He is weak. I am strong. It is the way of things. I’ve even ensured that relatives of his received plum postings they couldn’t otherwise qualify for. It pains me to say it, but he’s quite a sentimentalist, for a morale officer, that is.”

“Regardless, Admiral, I am in your debt.”

“Tell me; what of the crew? What do they really think about our mission?”

“Some desire peace. Some hate the Terrans as much as they hate us. Some don’t care and simply do their jobs,” Antonov said, shrugging his shoulders.

“And you?”

“It would be nice to see an end to this war, Admiral. I’ve seen so many young ones under my command die in service of the state. It would be refreshing to see them grow old and have families of their own.”

Seville poured another glass of brandy for each of them. “You may count me among those that hate the Terran Coalition,” he said, briefly touching a hand to his right eye. “They took my eye. More accurately, a single Terran who longed to die as a martyr took it from me. His son is coming to meet us.”

“I didn’t realize, Admiral.”

“Or did he?” Seville mused. “If Colonel Lemieux had an IQ higher than fifty, we would have defeated the Terrans twenty-seven years ago. I wouldn’t have lost my eye.” Rage built within, expressing itself as his face turned blood red. “The hundreds of thousands of League sailors that died would’ve lived.”

Antonov sat mute, the look of fear back.

“It was not to be, Captain. Instead, I took the fall and spent fifteen hard years planting crops in the semi-arid dirt. It might have been enough to break most men, but not me. I was even more motivated to destroy the Terrans when I returned to the fleet.”

“Of course, sir,” Antonov finally said.

Seville let his facial expression go slack. “I also live but to serve the League. If the Social and Public Safety Committee want peace, then I will gladly carry their ambassador and do everything in my power to achieve it. In my heart, I may want to kill every last one of them, but I will do my duty. We can do nothing less as members of the League.”

“At least we’ve survived this long, Admiral.”

“Yes… yes, we have. It’s growing late. We’ve an eventful day in front of us tomorrow.”

Antonov seemingly got the hint instantly and stood. “Thank you again, Admiral.”

“Do your duty, do it well, Captain. Make me proud. Dismissed.”

23

David climbed up the last rung on the ladder to the central space traffic control area in the massive fighter bay of the Lion. He found himself next to the station where the “Air Boss” sat, along with her assistant, the “Mini-Boss.” Titles that carried over from generations of naval aircraft carriers were at home on the Lion. David watched dozens of fighters and bombers from the CSV Pat Tillman land in the bay, taxiing to assigned parking stations. An hour or so earlier, the Pat Tillman had jumped into the transfer point and started ferrying over its entire combat capable fighter wing. The Pat Tillman was an American-designed Wade McClusky class light carrier, carrying roughly eighty combat spacecraft. Like most other carriers in the CDF fleet, Wade McClusky class carriers possessed little in the way of anti-ship weaponry and formed the nexus of a Carrier Space Battle Group (CVSBG).

David had been curious to know who Pat Tillman was; the Americans named most of their ships after famous people. David was surprised to find out that Patrick Daniel Tillman was a professional football player from Earth who was killed in combat during the early 21st century. After spending a few minutes reading his biography, it was clear to David that the Americans revered Tillman because he volunteered to join the military after achieving every possible success in life. He had insulated himself and his family from any want or need, yet he’d still answered the call to serve.

He continued to reflect on that as the fighters continued to touch down; after all, in the Terran Coalition, regardless of nation-state and with only a few exceptions, every eighteen-year-old male or female was drafted into either the military of their nation-state or the CDF. Men were drafted for four years; women were drafted for three. The compromise in mandating women to serve a shorter period than men had been key to gaining passage of the Universal Draft Act in the early years following the appearance of the League of Sol. The idea of a society where only a few made the choice to serve struck David as a foreign concept.

As the final fighter came to a halt, David took his leave of the flight control crew, walking out of the control room and down a stairway to the flight deck. As he did, the memory of his first meeting with Amir leapt into his mind.

Back in the early days of his assignment to the CSV Audacious, which housed just over forty starfighters of various types, David had to clean up a number of personnel problems. The ship had morale issues that the CDF had decided to remedy by changing out most of the senior leadership. As a result, he arrived at a time of flux.

A couple of weeks after his assignment and in the middle of trying to retool the ship’s crew, he met one of the fighter squadron commanders during an informal dinner in the officer’s mess. That particular pilot was notably short even compared to the typical fighter jock. Space inside a cockpit was at a premium, which made excessive height a problem. The man sitting down across from him had no reason to worry.

“Greetings, Major Cohen.”

David glanced at the pilot’s uniform, taking in his rank and name—Captain Hassan Amir. He also had his space combat wings, had served for at least fifteen years, and came from the planet of New Arabia. There was a patch under the Terran Coalition and country flag position that bore the Crescent and Star, the symbol for Islam.

“Peace be unto you, Captain Amir,” David said, recalling a traditional Arabic greeting learned from social studies class so many years ago.

“Wa-Alaikum-Salaam,” Amir replied, the Arabic phrase for “And unto you peace,” which was the traditional answer. “I am the squadron commander for the 237th fighter squadron.”

“Ah yes, you guys style yourselves as ‘The Black Knights,’ right?” David asked with a smile.

“Yes, sir. I wanted to talk to you about some issues with the pilots, sir.”

David raised an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t you be going through the air wing commander, Captain?”

“Well, sir, he informed us today he’s been relieved of duty and will be departing the ship tomorrow morning. As of now, we do not know who the replacement is.”

“I see. In that case, what can I do for you?”

“To be blunt, sir, our squadrons don’t get enough training. The ship’s budget never seems to have room for live fire training exercises, and our pilots aren’t as good as they ought to be as a result.”

“Which leads to increased casualties.”

“Exactly, sir. I was hoping that as our new executive officer, you could help.”

One of David’s duties as the XO was to allocate the budget for the ship. Now it made sense why Amir would seek him out. “Let me dig into it, Captain. I can’t make promises, but I’ll do everything in my power to get the pilots the training they need.”

Amir nodded. “Thank you, sir.”

“New Arabia?” David asked, inclining his head toward Amir’s country patch.

“Yes, sir. Palestine territory.”

When the great diaspora migration had occurred, many of the different former countries and nationalist groups that made up the initial landing at Canaan set out for the local stars and founded their own planetary colonies. The Jews had done that with New Israel, and many groups of Arabs had come together under the banner of New Arabia.

“New Israel myself,” David replied, attempting to strike up a rapport with Amir.

“I have to confess, I don’t know why when my ancestors had their pick of planets, we ended up on one that is mostly desert,” Amir deadpanned.

David laughed. “We did the same thing. New Israel is a pretty tough landscape. We’ve terraformed it quite a bit, but still. It’s not Canaan, New America, or the British colonies,” he said, referencing the major nation-states of New America and New Great Britain. Between them and the planets that made up the British Commonwealth, they accounted for sixty percent of the Terran Coalition’s population and industrial output.

“I guess tradition does not die easily.”

David nodded his agreement. “No, it doesn’t. It’s kind of amazing how all the countries from Earth fanned out. Israel, America, Turkey, Saudi Arabia, Great Britain, Australia, even Canada. They all have their own planets now.” David took a sip of water. “So how’d you end up in Space Combat Command?”

“I’ve always wanted to be a pilot… ever since I was a little boy,” Amir said. “When it came time to be drafted, I instead applied for and was accepted to the flight academy. Fifteen years later, here I am. My wife is a pilot and my oldest daughter wants to be one as well.” He beamed with pride.

“The family that pilots together, stays together?”

Amir laughed. “Very true, Major.”

“It’s David when we’re not on duty.”

Amir extended his hand to David. “Good to meet you, David. Likewise, I am Hassan when not on duty.”

David shook the outstretched hand warmly. “Good to meet you too, Hassan.”

* * *

David smiled as the memory faded and Amir’s fighter set down on the flight deck. The canopy popped open, and Hassan Amir slowly climbed down from the fighter. Seeing David, he promptly saluted him. David’s hand snapped up to his brow to return the salute crisply. Amir removed the helmet to his flight suit, hanging it off his utility belt. “Permission to come aboard, Colonel Cohen?”

David grinned at his old friend. “Granted, Colonel Amir.”

Amir returned it. “I am happy we are able to serve again. I must confess I was very happy to hear of your promotion. I cannot help but wonder where the will of Allah will take you.”

David knew that Amir was a very devout Muslim; he was the Muslim equivalent of an Orthodox Jew. At one time, he knew from reading books on history that Jews and Muslims didn’t have the best relations, but now in the 25th century, that had been left in the past. The two men might not agree on every piece of their religious belief, but they respected each other and were good friends.

“I wonder, too, where God will lead. But for now, we’ve got our orders. Tell me, how much of the wing did you bring over?” David asked.

“Three squadrons of fighters, though one is at half strength, and one squadron of bombers. That’s all the Tillman had left after our last series of engagements.”

“Well, that’s the joy of having to patch this all together. As it is, we don’t have enough stores to support a full sixteen squadrons anyway. I’m hopeful we won’t need your services,” David said, looking around the bay.

“So command is sending us out for this…” Amir cleared his throat. “Peace mission?” He asked the words as if they were distasteful. “Do they expect the League to actually offer us an acceptable deal?”

David shook his head. “There are no details yet as to what they’re offering. We’re heading out to bring them in as quietly as possible.”

“I’d like to request permission to have CSP setup during the rendezvous.” Amir referenced Combat Space Patrols, a flight of two to four fighters providing close range support to the carrier in case of sudden attack.

“We can put a few fighters on ready five, but I’m under strict orders not to provoke the League in any way. We are to remain passive unless attacked.” David softened his expression. “I know this is a lot to process, Amir, but we need this to work. You know it as well as I do.”

“I’m not eager to make peace with liars, murders, and cowards, David,” Amir said harshly.

“Nor am I, but I’d rather make peace with them now than continue to send generations of our people off to fight and die if there’s a way to make it stop with honor.”

“Perhaps you’re right.”

“How is Nasir?” David inquired of Amir’s oldest son.

Amir flashed a smile. “He is well, as is Natara,” he said of his daughter. “She has done especially well and recently transferred to a flight squadron on the carrier Illustrious.”

“That’s great news, Amir. And Fatima?”

Amir let out a laugh. “She’s good… has a job teaching civilian pilots now. Makes three times what I do too.”

“You know, you’ve done your duty, old friend. Maybe you should think about joining her, instead of flying into death’s door on a daily basis.”

“It is my calling from Allah.”

“Well, in that case, I’m glad you are following that calling on my ship,” David said. “Now let’s get your pilots settled and I’ll give you the nickel tour of this rather impressive ship.”

* * *

Sheila walked around the officer’s mess, searching for an empty table, or at least one with few people at it. The last forty-eight hours had been grueling for everyone on the ship, and she was simply exhausted from giving orders, examining problems, and trying to resolve them. Finally, finding an empty two-person side table, she sat her tray of food as she took a seat and arranged her silverware.

She lowered her head to pray. “God, thank you for the food I am about to receive. for the good health I enjoy, and thank you for those who I serve with. Please bless the peace talks before us and allow us to be Your means to bring peace to the Terran Coalition and our citizens. Amen.” When she raised her head, Sheila saw the smiling face of Major Elizabeth Merriweather staring at her.

“Major, may I join you? There aren’t any other open seats,” Merriweather asked.

Suppressing a desire to groan, as she just wanted a few minutes of peace, Sheila instead put up a smile. “Of course, Major. Please sit. I’d be happy to share some food with you.”

Sliding into the other chair and putting her food down, Merriweather too bowed her head silently for a moment. “Thank you, Major Thompson.”

“Please, it’s Sheila.”

“Elizabeth. Glad to meet you less formally,” Merriweather said with a smile.

“I don’t recall seeing an officer serving as program manager to a civilian before,” Sheila began, curious about Merriweather’s position. “How’d you end up working with Dr. Hayworth? I thought that kind of job was reserved for civilians and contractors.”

Merriweather laughed. “Oh, I placed in the ninety-ninth percentile of the CVAB. After that, I was offered a full scholarship to the engineering school of my choice. I ended up in advanced composite research, which led to working with Dr. Hayworth to create a new composite substance capable of handling the stress of anti-matter reaction.”

Sheila blinked a few times. “Wow. I thought I was doing good at the seventy-fifth percentile. How long have you been working with Dr. Hayworth?”

“Going on five years now.”

“You’ve put up with that guy for five years? You must have the patience of a saint.”

“Or Job, perhaps,” Merriweather said as a joke. “He’s not bad once you get to know him.”

Sheila openly stared at Merriweather with a skeptical look. “Seriously? That man crawls under my skin.”

“Oh, I think he enjoys trying to get into everyone’s head and make them mad. There’s a heart of gold in there. It’s just hidden beneath layers of armor.”

“He doesn’t make fun of your religion?”

“There was a time he did, but after setting some firm boundaries, he backed off. Dr. Hayworth’s atheism is based in his intellect. He doesn’t believe there’s a scientific argument for God. I think after his wife died, he really hardened his positions. I do know he adored her. I doubt he’s ever really gotten over her death, and the few times we’ve discussed it, the fact that she was religious and that all her family and friends prayed for a miracle that never came…” Merriweather’s voice trailed off.

“I think that makes us all wonder sometimes. Why is one saved and not another?”

“Sometimes you just have to accept it on faith and keep going. Still, I enjoy working with him regardless of his temperamental personality. He’s easily the single most intelligent person I’ve ever met.”

“You sound as if you feel bad for him.”

Merriweather furrowed her brow. “Don’t you?”

“I suppose, on some level, but he’s such a jerk. Kind of hard to feel sorry for that.”

“He’s not always a jerk. Sometimes he’s one of the most considerate people I know. But even if he was…love those who hate you. Bless those who curse you and pray for those who mistreat you.”

“Fellow Christian?” Sheila asked. Neither she nor Merriweather had a religious emblem on their respective uniforms.

“Methodist, born and bred. With a Jewish father.”

“That sounds complicated.”

“Best of both worlds. Christmas and Hanukkah!”

Sheila laughed. “I see you will get along with the rest of us just fine.”

Merriweather smiled in return. “I look at it like this… if I show even in an imperfect way what I believe and how it changes my life to Dr. Hayworth, maybe it will cause him to question where he is, and perhaps God will be able to speak to him again. Someday, maybe he can find his way back to his faith. Getting through to him any other way is impossible. All I can do is try to show him.”

“Show, not tell….as Colonel Cohen would say.”

“Exactly.” Merriweather smiled again, glancing down at her food. “We’d better eat up. I’ve got at least five more hours of reactor diagnostics before we perform our final jump.”

“Five hours? Don’t you have computers to run automatic diagnostics?”

“Well, we do. But Dr. Hayworth doesn’t trust them yet, because the machine learning algorithm hasn’t been fully trained yet.”

“Trained?” Sheila asked.

“Yeah, because of the limitations on wide-ranging artificial intelligence, we have to create narrowly tailored AIs that can only do one task and have specific inhibitors to prevent them from evolving.”

“I never quite understood all of that.”

Merriweather shook her head. “I kind of get it, working with some of the advanced AIs we have access to. Even the scaled down version is scary in a way.”

“Why?”

“Let’s say you have an AI that has one mission, for instance, optimize production of a type of ore. It if determined that human beings had the type of metal it was trying to get more of in our bodies… it could decide to kill us all to process our bodies for the substance.”

“I’d never thought of it like that. That’s pretty freaky,” Sheila said, quirking her nose at the thought. “You get to work on some interesting stuff.”

“That I do.”

“Have you been to the chapel onboard yet?”

“Not yet,” Merriweather said. “I’m going to try to this Sunday.”

“I like the chaplain. I’ll send you an invite to the service I go to.”

“Okay, I’d love that.”

“Great.” Sheila bit into her cheeseburger with gusto, glad she’d taken the time to meet a new friend.

* * *

Several hours later, David walked into the bridge of the Lion; it was as busy as ever. The senior staff was at their stations, and Sheila was perched in the CO’s seat as she currently held the conn. Master Chief Tinetariro announced David’s presence loudly. “Colonel on the bridge!”

“As you were,” David said quickly as the few crewmen and officers not strapped into their stations came to attention. “XO, I have the conn.”

Sheila stood and moved over to the XOs chair. “Aye aye, sir. Colonel Cohen has the conn.”

David took the seat and pulled up his command status screen. “One jump remaining, XO. Are we ready?”

“Yes, sir. The contractors have managed to get all our weapons online, along with our defensive systems. We’re not ready for deployment, but as far as the current mission, we’re good to go and at one hundred percent effectiveness.”

David broke into a grin. “Well, I’ll be. I think Hanson owes me lunch because he bet me the contractors couldn’t get it done in time, and I said they could.”

Sheila rolled her eyes. “Sir, we don’t pay for lunch onboard.”

“Point taken. Maybe I’ll tell him to get us invited to the chief’s mess.” The officers always wanted to be invited to the chief’s mess, as it had the best food on the ship. Looking toward Hammond, he said, “Navigation, what is our jump capability status?”

“Sir, engineering is currently checking our Lawrence drive for any problems before we make the final jump, just in case we have to jump back out quickly,” Hammond said.

“Very well. TAO, tactical systems status?”

“Sir, all tactical systems are running normally. Hoping we don’t need them, sir.”

David allowed his smile to grow just a bit. Sheila interjected at that point, “We have a squadron of fighters on ready five alert status as well, sir.”

“What about our Marines?” David asked.

“Colonel Demood has them ready to go, sir. I don’t see the League trying to board us, though,” Sheila replied.

“Stranger things have happened, XO.”

“Conn, navigation. Lawrence drive is fully charged and ready for our final jump. Coordinates have been confirmed.”

David looked at Sheila as if to say, No backing out. Turning forward to the tactical and navigation stations, he commanded, “Navigation, commence jump.”

Hammond inputted the proper commands into her console. “Aye aye, sir. Jumping now, sir.”

It took a few moments for the massive Lawrence drive generators in the stern of the ship to generate and open a stable wormhole between the Lion’s current position in space and where it needed to go. David marveled at the science and theory behind the Lawrence drive. It was astounding to him that they could go the incredible distances in the blink of an eye. As the ship accelerated its sub-light engines, the Lion flew into the maw of the wormhole and exited out the other side several seconds later. There was a slight delay before the sensors would snap back on; those few moments could be very dangerous if a trap was waiting.

God help us if Seville’s waiting with a fleet to destroy our newest ship. David gripped the hand rests of his chair, waiting for the LIDAR systems to come online.

“Conn, TAO. Two contacts detected. One Behemoth class League dreadnought, designated Master One. One Type-D League transport, designated Master Two.”

David’s gaze stayed forward. “TAO, scan Master One. Are its weapons and defensive systems charged?” he asked.

Come on, Goldberg.

“Conn, TAO. Master One’s weapons are offline, and it’s running with shields and point defense fields deactivated. They’re scanning us as well.”

David let out an audible sigh. “So far, so good. They wanted to talk peace, let’s talk peace. Communications, open a channel to the Destruction.”

After what seemed like an eternity in which the bridge crew waited on pins and needles, Taylor spoke. “Conn, communications, we’re receiving an audio/visual signal, sir.”

David drew himself up as tall as he could sit in his chair. “Communications, put them on my personal viewer.”

The view above David’s chair came to the life with the signal from the Destruction. It centered around a single man who wore the gray utilitarian uniform of the League of Sol. His rank insignia identified him as a Fleet Admiral, a flag officer who had four stars. The man had a slight smirk on his face that hinted at amusement. “Greetings, Coalition vessel,” he stated. “I am Admiral Pierre Seville, commanding the overall League of Sol military presence on this side of our frontier.” He continued, “You are our escort, I presume, on this mission of peace to your nation?”

David put on his absolute best poker face. “This is Colonel David Cohen, commanding the CSV Lion of Judah. We have been sent to escort you to Canaan.”

“I see. I suppose my superiors aren’t the only ones guilty of not considering the best-named ship to send on a peace negotiation. Nevertheless, we are ready to begin our journey. We have a gesture we make first, however, Colonel. Diplomatic Minister Jenner wishes for us to immediately transfer custody of one of our prisoners of war, a Captain Adriana Barrigo,” Seville replied.

David couldn’t quite place Seville’s attitude. It seemed to him that Seville was darkly amused by the entire situation. Adriana Barrigo had been a POW for at least ten years, he recalled. She was the daughter of a previous Terran Coalition president; at the time, it was a major blow to morale within the Terran Coalition. He seemed to remember it had been whispered that she had been offered early release but had refused, as was the code of all POWs. He decided to take a gamble on creating rapport with the League Admiral. “I will have a crew standing by to receive your shuttle, Admiral.” He paused for a moment. “Would you, Minister Jenner, and your officers be interested in having dinner aboard the Lion during our voyage to Canaan?” David asked.

Sheila looked at David in shock as the words left his mouth. “Why, Colonel, that is a splendid idea,” Seville said with a smile. “We could meet tomorrow before our final wormhole jump to Canaan?”

“I think that would be fine, Admiral.” Thinking over protocol, he realized that since there was a band onboard, they’d have to play both national anthems. What have I gotten us into?

“Very well. I look forward to meeting you face to face at that time, Colonel. In the meantime, we will transfer Captain Barrigo to you by shuttle before we jump to the next set of coordinates,” Seville said, nodding to someone off screen. His image then disappeared and the screen went black.

“Sir?” Sheila openly stared at David. “Are we really having them over for dinner?” she asked, eyes wide with amazement. “I realize we want to help the process along, but…are you sure?”

“It’s the right call, XO,” he said.

“But that’s not just any old League admiral, that’s Admiral Seville!” she continued. “He...”

“Killed my father,” David finished for her, looking directly into her eyes. “I know that. As you were, Major.”

By David’s tone and words, Sheila knew she had crossed a line on the bridge she shouldn’t have.

“Yes, sir,” she said in a more subdued tone to try to make up for it. There was silence on the bridge after the interaction; no one acted like they heard, which was proper. David looked forward, putting it out of his mind and concentrating on what would need to be done to welcome the League VIPs.

24

As the communication screen snapped off, Admiral Pierre Seville sat back in his flag chair. The ship technically had a commanding officer that doubled as Seville’s fleet captain, but Seville was going to be on the bridge and in command for this endeavor. Savoring the interaction with the Lion’s commander, Seville enjoyed playing the game; in fact, he lived for playing it. He had been the leader of the League’s initial attack on Canaan; and after he finished serving his time in forced early retirement, he’d been rehabilitated and given the leave to ask for an assignment. Without hesitation, Seville had asked to take over the League military operations against the Terran Coalition.

Seville reflected on the fact that the Terran Coalition had survived for nearly thirty years in a war against the League; mostly due to the fact the League couldn’t bring its overwhelming superiority in numbers to bear because it had to police its internal holdings. The Terran Coalition’s citizens would tell you that God was on their side, but Seville thought them a bunch of children that feared the monster under the bed. The truth was, if the League ever summoned the balance of its fleet against the Coalition, their military would wilt and die.

The League wouldn’t bring its fleet to bear because everything in the League had to go through fifteen committees before any decision could be made. Ah, socialism, Seville thought to himself, such a noble experiment, but a failure as a government leadership model. Someday, Seville would fix that. He previously had plans that once the Terran Coalition was defeated, and he was hailed as the hero of the League, he would use that power to overthrow the old men of the Social and Public Safety Committee and create a new League based on authoritarian power. But that now would have to wait.

“Admiral, I am not sure of this. Exposing our officers to direct contact with these capitalists and religious zealots…” Colonel Strappi, the political officer and overall morale commissar for the Destruction, said, breaking Seville’s train of thought.

Seville suppressed the urge to slap Strappi. He hated political officers with a passion, but he tolerated Strappi for one reason; the man could be reasoned with and lacked enough connections to truly hurt Seville. “Do you truly have no faith in the loyalty of my staff, Colonel?” Seville asked in an acrobatically mocking tone. “Do not worry. There is no harm in having a dinner before we get to Canaan. Are you not the least bit interested in what these Terrans are like?”

Strappi would not be deterred. “But if your people are not loyal…”

Seville cleared his throat. “They are completely loyal, Colonel. Do not concern yourself with it,” Seville said with a commanding voice. He was immediately amused by how Strappi acted like a cur dog and backed down even with his body language.

“Of course, Admiral.”

“Now I suggest that you remember your manners and tact, as you will be joining us for this dinner.”

“What of the prisoner, sir? I am unsure of the minister’s order to let her go so soon. The things she might say…”

Seville again suppressed the desire to backhand Strappi. “I will be fine, Colonel,” Seville grated. “Everything is going as we expected.”

Taking the hint, Strappi excused himself and walked away. Seville looked over his bridge, thinking about how much he looked forward to meeting the son of the man who took sight from one of his eyes and defeated an armada. That would make the entire trip worth it.

* * *

The medical bay of the Lion of Judah, referred to interchangeably by the crew as medbay, sickbay, or the doc shack, was massive compared to those on other ships David had served on. He remembered that the technical specifications said it could handle two hundred acute cases at once and even more sub-acute injuries. The ship had several doctors, and many nurses and nurse assistants. Today though, there was only one person as a patient in the medical bay: Captain Adriana Barrigo. She sat on the edge of a high-tech hospital bed with various sensors and scanners poring over her vital signs.

David stood behind Dr. Tural and asked quietly, “What’s her condition, Doctor?”

“She’s at the peak of health physically. Well fed, constant exercise, and no signs of injury recently,” Tural muttered.

“Recently?”

“There are older injuries here and there, but the newest is between eighteen and twenty-four months old.”

“What about mental health?”

“That’s not my field, Colonel. But professionally speaking, I’ve worked with many liberated POWs and service members that have PTSD. I believe she’s disturbed in some way. That’s natural in this situation, and I’d like to establish a rapport with her as a physician first before exploring any mental issues.”

David nodded. “I understand, Doctor. I would like to know what they’ve done with her and the others, though. We haven’t seen a POW released by the League in nearly eleven years.”

Tural furrowed his brow. “Why, sir? They will all be home soon enough, Colonel. I don’t think that dredging up trauma from the last ten years will help.”

“I need to understand what we’re dealing with from the League, Doctor. We all need to know if there’s anything else going on here.”

Tural frowned. “Colonel, please be gentle with her,” he said, gesturing for David to proceed.

David walked over to her bedside; as she was in uniform, she jumped off the bed and came to attention.

“As you were, Captain,” David said with a smile. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay, sir.” Barrigo made eye contact with David after a fashion. It wasn’t so much she was looking at David; she was more so looking through him. “I… I’m happy to be going home, sir.”

“I can’t imagine what you’ve been through, Captain. But I must ask, what was it like, especially recently?”

Tural frowned and looked toward David, starting to open his mouth to protest the question. Before he could form the words though, Barrigo spoke. “It wasn’t easy. The League has had the attitude of ‘adapting’ us to life as League citizens. We get settled in prisoner colonies and are made to study League history and society. We weren’t mistreated recently, at least, not badly. There were incidents sometimes, especially if we resisted them.”

“Resist them how?” Tural asked.

“Refusing to recite the League oath of allegiance. Questioning their government’s decrees and decisions. Showing overt and public religious devotions. Really, anything that strikes the morale officers as being rebellious against what they call the Authority of Society.” Barrigo shrugged. “You get put into prolonged isolation, restricted diets. If they’re really mad at you, they send you to the pit... to sensory deprivation tanks and environmental alteration chambers. At least...they did.”

David frowned, but felt he needed to press on. “So what do they do now?”

“Nothing.” Barrigo breathed in for a moment. “About sixteen months ago, the League had a change of leadership internally. Nothing too public, the same people are in power as before, but the balance of power inside the government shifted away from the League’s Social and Public Safety Committee to the League Defense Council, that is, the military and security services. I don’t know why; our guards and caretakers tend to be tight-lipped about that part. All I know for sure is that the League’s defense establishments are getting tired of the war and how the politicians were running it.”

That comment brought curious looks from both David and Tural. “So this peace offer is... genuine?” David asked.

“Yes, very much so. The League is desperate for peace. Even with all their secrecy toward us, our sources in the prison colony have talked about tax riots all the way back to Earth itself. Alien races along their far frontiers are starting to exploit their need to keep ships facing us. If the League doesn’t make peace with us soon.... I think it’ll be torn apart.”

David nodded and prepared to leave. “Thank you, Captain, for clearing things up a bit. I’ll leave you to recover with the doctor.”

Tural walked with David into another section of the medical bay. “There’s no way she just knows all that from interaction with the guards,” David said to Tural, his tone blunt and direct.

“I would have to agree with you, sir,” Tural replied. “But why plant that information in her? They have to know we won’t trust it.”

David shook his head. “I’m not sure, Doctor. I find it interesting that she allowed them to release her ahead of the longest serving POW.” At Tural’s quizzical look, he said, “There’s a code of honor among all POWs…they won’t allow themselves to be released out of order, as it were. First in, first out, basically.”

Tural nodded in understanding. “I think I read something about that in a briefing, that the three thousand POWs in the transport are the longest held. She is in that group.”

“True, but it all adds up to odd. At the end of the day, all that matters is the League signing a legitimate peace treaty with us, so you won’t see me complaining too much about the order of POW release…just as long as we get all of them.”

“I’m not sure I see what you do, sir. But I can’t disagree that she needs more help. I’ll continue to have her health monitored and get a counselor to follow up.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” David said as he turned to walk out of the medical bay and back to his duties of preparing for the diplomatic dinner the next night. Stretching his neck from one side to other, thoughts raced through David’s brain. This just doesn’t make sense… the League’s never been interested in peace. We’re being told exactly what we want to hear. Now I sound like one of those crazies on the holonets. Focus, David. Play this out and do it the right way.

25

David woke up the next morning at 0430 hours and went about his morning routine. First, he went to the officer’s gym for a forty-five-minute workout, then he showered, shaved, and readied himself for the day. Since this morning was the first full day in space and under way, he’d decided to attend the morning flag ceremony. Held onboard every CDF ship in space at 0800 hours in the largest cargo bay onboard, the flag was raised, the anthem was played, and honors were rendered. For reasons he couldn’t readily explain, seeing the flag raised and saluting it with his brothers and sisters in arms reminded him that he was part of something bigger than himself. It was a feeling that sustained him, even when things looked bleak. For him, the flag of Terran Coalition stood for something; it stood for freedom and justice, ideas that were worth fighting for, just as his father had taught him.

At 0730, he stepped out of his office and began making his way down the one-point-two-kilometer-long vessel; even with automatic grav lifts, it simply took a while to walk from the bow of the ship to the stern cargo bay. As David entered the cavernous bay, he saw a sea of people inside; hundreds of CDF members and a number of people in civilian attire, whom he assumed were contractors.

A sharp-eyed chief petty officer noticed David as he walked in and announced his presence. “Colonel on deck!” The assembled crewmen and women braced at attention to acknowledge him.

David immediately said, “As you were.” The crowd relaxed and began to line up in rows facing the portable flagpole standing in the middle of the bay. He remembered that there was a small Marine Corps band onboard, hastily assembled for rendering honors when the League delivered the former POW, Captain Borrego, and he hoped they would be in attendance for the ceremony.

At 0755, the 1MC came to life with an announcement from Sheila. “Attention, all hands, first call! First call to Colors!” Over the next couple of minutes, even more crewmen and officers streamed into the bay. David was sure that at least eight hundred people all told were stacked into the cargo bay.

A few moments before 0800, the Marine Color Guard paraded into the bay, carrying the flag of the Terran Coalition, the battle flag of the Coalition Defense Force, and the CDF Marine flag, followed by a small Marine Corps band. At 0800 sharp, the bugler sounded the call for attention, and all uniformed members of the CDF came to attention.

A moment after the bugle call ended, the Marine band began to play the Anthem of the Terran Coalition. David and everyone else in uniform brought their hands to their brows and sharply saluted the colors for the duration of the anthem, while the civilians placed their right hands over their hearts. As the music was played, a separate Terran Coalition flag was attached to the flagpole and slowly hoisted to full mast. As the last bars of the anthem were played and the sound of music ended, hands were lowered. The drum major leading the band raised her voice, speaking toward David. “Colonel, would you lead us in the pledge of allegiance, sir?”

David stepped forward, and still facing the colors, came to attention and saluted. His words echoed loudly across the cargo bay. “I pledge allegiance to the flag of the Terran Coalition and to the republic for which it stands. Many nations, under God, with liberty and justice for all.” Modeled after the American pledge of allegiance, it was known by virtually every citizen within the Terran Coalition. Repeated every morning by every child in school, at every national event, and at the swearing in of politicians, it contained the core of what the Terran Coalition stood for. Lowering his hand to his side, he completed the pledge and glanced at the drum major, indicating for her to continue.

“Thank you, sir,” she said before ordering the bugle call for “Carry On.” At that, the assembled company began to depart.

David decided to stay behind and talk to the band for a moment. “Master Sergeant Poirier,” he said, addressing the drum major. “An outstanding performance.”

“Thank you, sir,” Poirier said stoically.

“I can’t say I’ve ever seen a Marine Corps band on a ship before.”

The trace of a smile graced her face. “First time I’ve ever been on a ship underway to play music anyway.”

David raised an eyebrow. “I must confess, I have little knowledge of how the band works. Have you been deployed as well?”

“I have, three times. That bit about ‘everyone is a rifleman’ isn’t just a slogan, sir.”

David nodded, smiling. “Well, glad to have you on board. Though I am not entirely sure I’m looking forward to us playing the League’s anthem on our flight deck.”

She made a face. “I’m not looking forward to playing it, sir.”

David laughed. “Well, hopefully, it will help toward a lasting peace.”

“I hope so, sir. I really do. We all do.”

“Carry on, Master Sergeant, and thank you for a beautiful ceremony,” David said, preparing to leave.

“Yes, sir, thank you, sir,” she said in response as he turned and walked out of the cargo bay.

26

Inside of the large officer’s gym on the Lion, TCMC Lieutenant Colonel Calvin Demood took out his stress on a punching bag, dressed in his workout clothes as opposed to a duty uniform. Stepping back a moment for a breather, he saw Lieutenant Robert Taylor at a nearby station practicing as well. He watched him for several seconds before Taylor dropped his hands from the bag. He decided to strike up a conversation.

“Pretty good for a comms geek, Lieutenant.”

Taylor glanced over to him and flashed a quick smile. “I grew up fighting, Colonel. My father made Master Guns, not to mention some uncles, an aunt, and a few older cousins in the Marines.”

“But you became a comms geek?” Calvin asked with a chuckle.

“Well, you go with your strengths. I’ve always been good working with technology and signals.” Taylor made a face. “And I’ve already heard all the tech geek jokes from my cousins, so you don’t need to bother.”

“Hey, I’m too experienced to pull that crap on you computer nerds, had too many of you guys pull me out of the fryer.” Calvin laughed. “So do you think this is going to work out? This peace stuff?”

“Well, who knows? The League’s never talked peace before, but after all these years, you never know how they’re feeling about it.” Taylor shrugged. “I mean, think of how they acted toward us, attacking almost out of the blue, and you wonder how many other civilizations and nations they’ve pissed off and who want a piece of them. I know they’ve angered the hell out of the Saurians as it is.”

“Oh really? Guess you learn those sorts of things listening to conversations for a living all day.” Calvin smirked at him. “So, want to show this hard-ass Marine officer just what your cousins taught you? I’m tired of smacking punching bags around.”

Taylor returned the smirk with one of his own. “Sure, Colonel. I’ll even go easy on you. Wouldn’t want you to break a hip trying to keep up with a young guy like me.”

“A wise guy too. Damn, you must have had an interesting family. Well, let’s hurry up so I can kick your ass in time for a shower before meeting our guests.”

The two men walked over to a sparring mat and faced off. Calvin asked, “Are we boxing or doing martial arts here, Lieutenant?”

Taylor smiled. “Anything you want, Colonel.”

With that, Calvin stepped forward and threw a standard sucker punch at Taylor, thinking that the young man was all talk and little experience. He might as well have thrown a paper airplane. Taylor dodged the punch by stepping to one side and brought his arm down sharply, striking him on his elbow, inflicting pain and a stunning blow. A couple of Marines that had been watching the exchange in passing interest stopped what they were doing and stared.

“Ah, martial arts it is, then.” Pretty quick on his feet for a comms guy.

Calvin closed the distance between them and delivered a series of karate moves that Taylor deftly met blow for blow. Taylor then stepped into the attack, grabbed his right arm, and flipped the older man on his back. Standing over him, Taylor stuck his arm out. “Best of out three, Colonel?”

Calvin grabbed the arm and helped himself up. “Sure, but we’re doing pugil sticks next.”

* * *

David stood in front of the mirror in his main cabin, which was more of a small apartment than a stateroom. Having served on smaller ships for most of his career, he was used to the cramped quarters of destroyers and frigates. On the Lion, however, junior officer’s staterooms were larger than his old commanding officer’s quarters on the Rabin.

Above all else, he hated wearing dress uniforms. Tonight’s dinner called for full dress, and David’s uniform had to be immaculate. He also had to wear his entire set of campaign ribbons, pin insignia, and medals. He found the entire display to be ostentatious, as he tried to downplay any rewards or recognition that he received.

David had on occasion turned down three Purple Hearts, an award that carried over to the CDF from the American military that was awarded for being wounded in combat. I don’t deserve medals for minor wounds that barely slowed me down. The men and women who lost limbs, suffered irreparable brain damage, and were maimed for life… they’re the ones that deserve it. Not a fleet officer in full control of his body.

He fastened the block of campaign ribbons to his right, his medals to his left, followed by his Space Warfare Officer insignia, and Command-In-Space insignia. David considered the medals and reflected on his mixed feelings. On one hand, he was proud of his efforts for the cause, a cause he believed in with every fiber of his being. What wasn’t lost on him, though, was that he was in effect rewarded for killing his fellow man. That fact caused him great guilt and it tore at him every time he let it catch up with him in his thoughts.

David knew that fighting the League and killing those who fought for it was required, but he also knew that most of its soldiers were conscripts, brainwashed into fighting, and that those who wouldn’t fight were shot. That didn’t stop him from looking down at his hands and seeing blood when he reflected on his past deployments. Pushing those thoughts out of his head, he tried to focus on the task before him tonight, ensuring as much as he could that the killing stopped.

The chime to his door sounded. “Open,” he said nearly automatically, knowing that Sheila was on her way to walk with him to the hangar deck.

Sheila strode into David’s cabin, put together and ready to go. “It’s almost time…done preening yet?” Sheila asked in a playful tone.

“You know I hate dressing up.” Sometimes I wonder at how she teases me. It’s almost like she—likes—me.

Sheila laughed. “I’d enjoy it more if these uniforms were remotely flattering.”

David couldn’t stopped himself from snickering, which got him a withering look. “How are preparations going?”

“The mess stewards are preparing the meals using VIP fresh food for once; the honor guard and band are in place. I have to tell you, no one is interested in hearing the League anthem played,” Sheila said with a bit of a smirk.

“I actually prefer the basic frozen meals.” David finished fastening his final medal. “Getting invited to the chief’s mess is even better,” he said, reminded that the chiefs ate the best on any ship.

He turned to face her. “Are you okay, Sheila?” The use of her name indicated openly between them that this was a moment between friends, not commander and subordinate.

“I’m just worried, David,” she said. “I know you’re hoping this turns out for the best, but now they’ve got the man who killed your father here.”

“I know, but I’m not upset about it. He was the guy in charge, sure, but not the man who ordered the attack,” David replied, but inside, he knew that wasn’t entirely true. As much as he tried to suppress it, he couldn’t push out of his mind that Seville was the evil that caused twenty-seven years of war. He ought to pay for what he’s done.

“David…I know you better than that. I know that you’re bitter about it, but you can’t let that get to you,” Sheila said, putting her hand on his arm. “We need peace, David. You must remember that.”

“How can I not think about the fact that my father died ramming his flagship…and the tens of thousands other fathers, mothers, sons, and daughters that perished at that battle, Sheila,” David snapped, pain and frustration breaking through his carefully crafted mask. “I think we’re negotiating openly with a pack of liars who didn’t give us much of a chance for peace before they sent an armada to try and destroy our home world! I’m thinking of all the good men and women I’ve met in my life who are dead and gone because the League kept attacking us even when we don’t do a damned thing to them! I’m thinking that there can’t be any peace at all with the League, so long as they believe they and they alone have a right to decide how people should work, believe, and live!”

“David…” Sheila said with a look of grave concern on her face.

Before she could finish interrupting, David brought his hand up and continued to speak. “And, above all else, Sheila, I’m thinking about how much I hate doing this job.” When she made no move to continue, he followed through on this statement. “I don’t mind being a soldier. Always thought I would. I never liked being told what to do and when to do it, but I ended up being a pretty decent soldier. What I do mind is having to go out every day and kill other people, even people as bad as the League. Killing our fellow man... that’s not something we should be able to do lightly, even if we think they deserve it. We have no right to take life as easily as we do. The press of a button and thousands die? We talk about being nations under God…one of the Ten Commandments: thou shall not murder. Oh, we hide it, we justify it, but when one of our bombs goes off target and kills a hundred civilians, what does that make us? What have we become?” he asked in a rhetorical manner, taking a breath before he continued.

“So, yes, I think this is going to go nowhere. I think the League’s going to keep trying to grind us under until one or both of our nations are destroyed, but it doesn’t matter, because if we can have an end to this killing, even if just for a few decades, that will be well worth having to sit across the table from the man my father died fighting and eating a peaceful meal with him. Oh, I’ll even gladly toast his health if only it brings an end to this war,” David said with emphasis on the final few words. “And we’re going to be late if we don’t start walking now.” He forced an uncomfortable grin at her and walked toward the door.

Sheila turned her head and began to follow him, her face a frown with her mouth hanging open.

I may have overdone it a little, there. Okay, David. Time to get your head on straight.

27

In the cavernous flight deck of the Lion of Judah, the ship’s company had literally rolled out the red carpet for the League delegation. There was an actual red carpet for the League officers to walk out of their shuttle on, along with the flags of the Terran Coalition and the League of Sol, displayed on poles off to the side. The Marine Band and the honor guard, also Marines, were in full-dress uniforms, consisting of bright red uniform jackets, polished belts with gold buckles, and smartly pressed white pants, finished off with spit-shined black shoes. Looking over them as he strode onto the flight deck in his own full-dress uniform, David chuckled to himself. Leave it to the Marines to always be the best dressed. He made his way over to the drum major and complimented her on the band’s appearance. “So are we entertaining the President of the Coalition or the Admiral in charge of the League invasion of Canaan?” David asked the Master Sergeant Poirier.

She looked back at him, coming to attention along with the rest of the Marines. It was customary on a ship that the commanding officer, or any officer for that matter, had honors rendered upon first meeting of the day by any given enlisted personnel. The Marines, though, seemed to love to salute at the drop of a hat. “As you were,” David said to the band, and they all relaxed. The way Marines all moved together like a human wave had always impressed David. He doubted he would have succeeded as a Marine.

“I’d much rather it be the president, sir, though he would have his own band,” she said with a smile.

“The President’s Own, right?” David asked.

“Yes, sir. It’s the most elite group of musicians in the Coalition Marine Corps. Someday, I’d love to play with them.”

“Never give up on a dream. Before you and the band disembark, I’ve got to hear how you decided to join the Marines to be in the band,” David said, grinning.

Poirier laughed. “I get that a lot. It’s a fun one.”

“We’d better finish getting ready. I understand that the League really likes to be punctual. Something about the trains running on time,” David said with a smirk. “Carry on, Master Sergeant.”

“Yes, sir!” Poirier said crisply.

David strode over to the rest of his senior officers: Sheila, Hanson, Calvin, Amir, and Dr. Tural. Master Chief Tinetariro was present as well, with a contingent of enlisted crewmen in dress uniforms.

“Ready to go, ladies and gentlemen?” he asked them with a smile.

Sheila spoke for the group. “Oh, yes, sir. We’re just longing to have dinner with a shuttle full of League officers. Anything for peace, right?”

An announcement filled the flight deck. “League shuttle arrival in thirty seconds.”

“Okay, everyone, look alive!” David’s voice carried across the deck.

The Marines braced to attention, as did the enlisted crewmen. David and the rest of the officers took their positions as the League shuttle glided into the bay and set down gently next to the red carpet. After a moment, its side door opened, and a small honor guard strode out, goose-stepping down the ramp. Admiral Seville led the way, followed by several officers in full dress uniforms. A man in civilian attire came toward the end; David recognized him as the diplomatic minister, Jenner. As the last Leaguer exited the shuttle, Master Chief Tinetariro trilled her bosun’s pipe, piping them aboard with honors.

The gunnery sergeant in charge of the TCMC Honor Guard announced in a formal voice, “Arms, port!” The Marines snapped their gleaming rifles to port arms. “Attention, colors!” he bellowed.

At this, the band stood and began to play the anthem of the Terran Coalition; every member of the TCMC and CDF within the bay stood at attention and saluted. Admiral Seville and his officers also brought themselves to attention but did not salute. Minister Jenner placed his hand over his heart in what David thought was a show of respect.

As the final bars ended, there was a pregnant pause by the band before they then began to play the anthem of the League of Sol. Admiral Seville and the rest of the League contingent brought their hands up to their brows and smartly saluted their colors. David, and everyone else silently stood at attention. Standing here, listening to this music, is tearing me up inside. I can’t begin to believe the Marines aren’t hating this even more than I am. He forced himself to remember that it was a small indignity for peace, and well, the League just rendered honors to the Coalition flag, so maybe it evened out. The League anthem ended, and the band sat down again.

Seville stepped forward and addressed David. “Permission to come aboard, Colonel?”

“Permission granted, Admiral.”

“Allow me to introduce Diplomatic Minister Jenner, leader of our peace delegation, Colonel Strappi, the morale officer onboard the Destruction, and Fleet Captain Antonov, the commanding officer of my flagship,” Seville said, his face stoic and betraying little emotion.

“A pleasure, gentlemen,” David said, shaking hands with the League officers and Minister Jenner. “Allow me to introduce my senior staff: Major Sheila Thompson, executive officer, Major Arthur Hanson, chief engineer, Lieutenant Colonel Calvin Demood, Marine expeditionary force commander, Lieutenant Colonel Hassan Amir, flight wing commander, and Dr. Izmet Tural, our chief medical officer.”

Seville politely shook the hands of the senior officers as David introduced them.

“If you will follow me, sir, we have a dinner prepared in your honor,” David said as a way of wrapping up the introductions.

“Thank you, Colonel. I would be delighted,” Seville said with a smile on his face. As the League delegation walked away with David, Seville took the lead.

* * *

One of the nice things about a gigantic ship, David pondered, is that it has various rooms and venues that a smaller destroyer simply doesn’t have. On the Rabin, if they’d ever had a VIP onboard, which was unlikely to begin with, the wardroom would have been used for a dining hall. But on the Lion, they had a purpose-built dining room for guest VIPs. Following procedure, the Lion’s senior officers were in attendance, and Admiral Seville had brought his senior officers and staff. Not quite one for one as the regs suggested, but it was close enough. He’d reluctantly allowed Dr. Hayworth to join the dinner after Major Merriweather had suggested repeatedly that Hayworth was highly thought of, even in the League. Maybe he’d find some common ground with them. The last thing he needed now was the temperamental doctor causing problems in what needed to be a productive discussion.

David was seated at the head of table as the commanding officer, Seville was seated at the other end, and the various officers were intermingled with each other. The League’s senior diplomat, Minister Jenner, sat on David’s right.

Mess stewards brought in the first course of the meal as small talk was exchanged amongst the various guests. Jenner glanced at David. “Colonel, I must confess, we were shocked that you were sent to escort us.”

David raised an eyebrow in question. “Why is that, Minister?”

Jenner offered a small smile. “Our intelligence service was not aware that the Victory Project was this close to completion. It took us by surprise.”

David returned the smile while the wheels turned in his head. Why would he let that slip? “Perhaps the League’s intelligence gathering within the Terran Coalition isn’t what it used to be,” David said, trying to inject some humor and wondering if what he really meant was that they were astonished that David had been chosen to command the ship provided for escort, given the history between his father and Seville.

“Perhaps,” Jenner said with a polite chuckle. “Tell me, Colonel, how do you view our chances for peace?”

David eyed Jenner. Sheila, who sat several chairs down on the left, overheard Jenner’s question and looked toward David with a cautious expression. “I’m not sure, Minister. I’m hopeful that we can come to an agreement. No one in their right mind wants to get up each morning and go kill people.”

Jenner nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face. “I see. Our propaganda says that all members of the Coalition Defense Force relish combat and long to die as martyrs for God.” The last bit of the sentence was said with a lighter lilt.

Sheila took the opportunity to interject, seeing David’s dark expression. “Well, Minister, I think that’s some bad intel,” she said with a light expression and tone. “We put an overwhelming emphasis on not dying.”

Calvin spoke up. “We Marines have another way of putting it. It’s not our job to die for our country; our job is to make the other guy die for his.”

There were some chuckles out of the people that heard him, including Jenner and David. “Point taken, Colonel Demood,” Jenner said. “Our own Marines have a similar saying. I think that sentiment traces all the way back to Earth.”

Catching his breath from laughing, David interjected, “I believe the earliest known expression of it is from a senator from ancient Rome. Cicero, if memory serves.”

Jenner turned to look at David with a quizzical expression. “You know Earth history, Colonel?” he asked, his tone implying this was some major revelation.

David couldn’t control the snicker that left his lips. “Yes, Minister. It’s in our school studies, and I took several courses on Earth history during my time at the Space Warfare College. I can’t tell you how many books I’ve read on the subject. History is fascinating to me.”

Jenner looked to the captain of the Destruction, Zehnya Antonov, who was several chairs down. “It appears that much of our intelligence is wrong.”

Calvin, who sat to the left of David, said sotto voice to him, “No wonder we keep kicking these guy’s asses.”

David couldn’t help but smirk at Calvin’s comment, even though he detested cursing. As the mess stewards finished setting down all the plates for the first course, which consisted of a salad, he cleared his throat. “Ladies, gentlemen, honored guests,” he said in a voice that carried over the rest. “It is CDF custom that before a meal, we offer thanks and ask for blessing to our Creator. I realize that we have in attendance those who do not believe; you should feel no obligation to join us.” He glanced toward Rabbi Kravitz. “Rabbi, please lead us in a blessing.” It was wardroom tradition that the prayer was offered in the faith of the commanding officer, and since David was Jewish, he had invited the rabbi to the dinner.

Kravitz made eye contact with several around him before bowing his head. The rest of the CDF officers did the same; Jenner joined in out of respect. The rest of the League officers simply looked at each other, while Dr. Hayworth made a display of rolling his eyes. “Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the Universe, by Whose word all things came to be. Bless this food and our purpose here.” As he finished, the rest of the CDF officers raised their heads once more.

David picked up his glass and took a sip of water. “Thank you, Rabbi.”

“If I may, Colonel...” Seville said from the other end of the table. “I propose a toast for this fine occasion. The first time in four hundred years that our two sections of humanity have sat down together to discuss peace.”

Several heads turned toward David. He offered a diplomatic smile and raised his glass. “To peace then, Admiral.”

“Indeed. To peace for all mankind, regardless of ideology.” Seville ignored the stern look from Strappi as the assembled officers took a drink in unison. “These years of war have been a terrible waste of life and treasure, you understand. The League can no more sustain this bloodshed than you can, I would imagine, and it is time to end the fighting. It is time for peace.”

“Peace,” David said, nodding. “I only hope it’s something that lasts instead of the usual peace.”

“The usual peace, Colonel?” Jenner asked.

“A peace that is just to give everyone time to prepare for the next war.”

Silence broke out at the dinner table. Sheila looked at David with a scowl on her face, as if to say “What?!” Seville, however, looked at David for a quiet moment before he laughed out loud. “Ah, wonderful wit, Colonel,” he proclaimed. “Such cynicism! It breeds so well in people of our occupation, doesn’t it? Having death as a constant companion, never knowing when it will claim a friend, a lover, even oneself.”

“It’s an occupational hazard, Admiral,” David said, determined not to show any overt weakness.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed about, after all. All soldiers have to live with death hovering over their shoulder.” Seville took a drink and put his glass down. “Hopefully, we can soon exorcise that specter, or at least reduce it.”

“It will be a proud moment for us all when peace is restored,” Sheila said. She exchanged glances with David before continuing. “A just peace that we can build on to something greater.”

“A reunion of all mankind under one banner is our ultimate goal,” Zehnya Antonov stated. “Humans together under a banner of brotherhood and solidarity.”

“Brotherhood and solidarity must ultimately mean tolerance toward each other’s differences,” Dr. Tural said. “Otherwise, what you have is not brotherhood; it is the tyranny of the majority or whomever holds power.”

“There are things that can be tolerated and things that cannot,” Strappi said. “A united mankind cannot easily tolerate those who wish to divide it; such is an oxymoron and can lead to that very division.”

David cleared his throat. “Our two… branches of humanity have very different ideas about the state, Colonel. We, the Terran Coalition, collectively believe that freedom is the cure to most things that ail us. The state should offer a framework for its citizens to thrive within, but not control their lives.”

Seemingly undeterred, Strappi pressed on. “In the League, by defining the roles of our citizens and the rules they must follow, we give them freedom to thrive.”

“But who decides what can be tolerated and what cannot?” Dr. Tural asked. “Does any person have the wisdom to do such things?”

“Our people trust the State with such duty. The State, after all, represents the accumulated will and knowledge of the people.”

“And if the State is ever wrong?” David asked pointedly.

“The State is the embodiment of the people. It can’t be wrong,” Strappi insisted. “And it is preferable to allowing the superstitious to decide such issues. For instance, you, Dr. Hayworth.” He looked to Hayworth, who glanced up from his food. “Even in the League, your brilliance is known, as is your refusal to hew to the nonsense of those around you. Unlike them, we would not treat you as a moral inferior to be badgered or pitied, but as a man of rational thought and brilliant invention.”

Silence reigned over the table for several seconds, with uncomfortable glances everywhere. Hayworth finished chewing on a mouthful of salad and looked intently at Strappi. “How would you treat me, Colonel Strappi, if I refused to aid your government’s R&D projects but insisted on having my own? How would you treat me if I proclaimed publicly that Committee Chairman Pallis is a senile old warmongering idiot and that the entire Social and Public Safety Committee should be tossed out on its ass?”

Strappi’s face contorted, but before he could speak, Jenner intervened in the discussion. “It appears, ladies and gentlemen, that there are quite a few things still dividing our sections of humanity,” he said carefully, “but we can still live peacefully regardless of this.”

“We live in hope, Minister,” David answered quietly.

“Oh, I think the Colonel has brought up something important,” Hayworth said, drawing a nasty look from David. “The League offers a Faustian bargain.”

“What the heck is that?” Calvin whispered toward David.

“Deal with the devil.”

“They supposedly offer their citizens everything yet operate a data and AI driven police state that monitors all aspects of everyone’s life. You can’t walk too fast in the League without getting in trouble,” Hayworth continued.

“And the Terran Coalition doesn’t have its own rules and controls, Doctor?” Strappi said. “In a society that’s predominately religious, aren’t you a second-class citizen? The only difference is that the League’s rules come from the state, while yours supposedly come from an imaginary figure in the sky.”

Jenner cleared his throat loudly. “I think we should all move on.”

“Agreed,” David said, letting out a sigh. “My mother always said to avoid politics and religion at the dinner table.”

The injection of humor into the tense situation seemed to do the trick. After a few well-placed chuckles, Hayworth and Strappi were silent, while the others made small talk. For the rest of the dinner, which consisted of a main course, followed by desserts and coffee, they avoided the touchy subjects. David decided by the end of the dinner that while he’d never trust Seville and he couldn’t stand Strappi—after all, League political officers were hated even by their own—Jenner seemed to genuinely want peace.

“Minister, you seem to be invested in this peace process. If I may, why?” David asked of Jenner as the other officers talked amongst themselves.

“The truth is, Colonel, I lost two children to this war. Both of my sons,” Jenner said with more than a trace of sadness.

David sat back slightly in his chair. Great, I just stepped in it.

Before he could respond, however, Jenner continued. “I don’t blame you for their deaths, nor anyone in the Coalition Defense Force. After all, we fired the first shots of the war.”

David’s eyebrows shot up; the League had always claimed that the Terran Coalition had attacked first.

“I was under the impression that the League felt we started the war, Minister,” David said neutrally.

“There is fact and then there is truth, Colonel. We both know what the truth is. I’m tired of war, and the faction I represent within the League Social and Public Safety Committee is tired of war too. We’re here to forge peace. I hope that your people share that goal,”

“While I’m sure there’s a person or two in the Terran Coalition that can’t see past the hatred for the League, I think nearly everyone else prefers a just peace with honor,” David said.

“I hope your leaders are of the same mind as us,” Jenner said, and raised his glass with a smile.

“Perhaps the best way to deal with this is just put a couple of weary soldiers in the same room and let them come to a compromise.”

Jenner laughed. “The war would be over in fifteen minutes.”

David smiled and took a sip from his glass. Soon the dinner was over, and it was time for the League contingent to leave. Seville spoke from his end of the table. “Colonel Cohen, I must commend you on being an excellent host. We will take our leave now, but know that this gesture on your part is truly touching to me.”

As Seville and his officers stood, David and his did as well. “Thank you, Admiral. I wish you a good journey, long life, and good health,” he said without a trace of sarcasm. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Sheila rolling her eyes at him.

Seville too kept a neutral expression. “You as well, Colonel.” While he and his officers headed for the hatch, David walked over to stand beside it, shaking the hands of all as they left. When Seville reached him, he paused. “Colonel, do you mind if I pay my final respects to Captain Barrigo? I found her conduct in captivity to be… inspiring. Always staying true to her oath to resist.”

David looked to Tural, who nodded. “A moment, Admiral.” Tural walked over to the wall monitor with David and Seville following. He tapped a key on it and said, “Patch to medical bay.” After a moment, the image of a nurse popped up. “Nurse, is Captain Barrigo available?”

“Yes, Doctor. One moment.” The nurse moved out of the image. Some moments later, Barrigo stepped into the view.

Seeing her, Tural said, “Adriana, this is Admiral Seville. I’m not sure you’ve met.”

“We haven’t,” Barrigo said.

“I would just like to thank you for playing a role in the peace to come, good captain,” Seville said. “And please, do give greetings to your father on my behalf?”

“Greetings to my father?” Barrigo seemed to think for a moment. “Oh, yes, of course, Admiral. I would be honored.”

“Thank you, my dear. May you have a pleasant life.” Smiling, Seville nodded to Tural and began to walk over to David, who had been watching quietly.

“I’ll be along shortly to check on your status, Adriana,” Tural assured her, after which he turned the monitor off.

As Seville exited the room, Sheila walked up to David. “What was all that about, you think?” she asked quietly.

“I’m not sure, but it was weird.”

David and Sheila, along with the TCMC honor guard, walked silently back to the shuttle bay with the League contingent. As they boarded the shuttle to return to their ship, Seville was last to board. He looked back at David. “It took me a few minutes, Colonel. I recognize your name now.” Seville touched under his right eye, which was obviously artificial. “I’m quite sure your father would be proud of you.”

David’s face clouded over. “I like to think so,” he said.

“A man... fighting only to defend his home and family. No ideology, no beliefs, simple self-defense of what one cherishes.” Seville cracked a smile. “Far purer motives, I would say, than some have fought for. But I must be off, Colonel. Have a pleasant day and thank you for your hospitality.” He stepped into the shuttle fully, watching David intently as the shuttle doors slid closed.

Sheila looked to David and said, “You look tired. Shouldn’t you take some down time? We’re due to jump into Canaan soon.”

David glanced at her with his expression betraying his relief. “I plan on it, XO. Put our relief on the bridge and get some rest. We need to be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir.”

28

Later that evening, David reviewed reports in his quarters, wrapping up the copious amounts of paperwork required for the trip. He was relieved to be out of his formal dress uniform. The ship had jumped about an hour previously and was in a standard parking orbit of Canaan, closely escorting the Destruction and the transport. He had tried to sleep but had found himself unable to get his mind off the meeting with Seville and the conversation over dinner with Jenner. It had entered his mind to ask Dr. Tural to prescribe him something to help him unwind, but then he’d be groggy the next day, and he didn’t want to have to explain the side effects. At least, that was normally what happened when he took something to bring sleep.

Looking over personnel transfer requests, he kept absentmindedly playing through the night’s conversations in his mind. Noting that he would never invite Hayworth to another diplomatic function, David kept going over Seville’s comments, looking for weaknesses and strategies. He believed that you had to truly study an enemy and get into the enemy’s head to be able to counter them effectively, and Seville was to be handled no differently, peace treaty or no.

Something bothered him about the evening. He couldn’t put his finger on it; he was pretty sure that Jenner was genuinely interested in peace. Seville, on the other hand, oozed a kind of fake charm that put every gut feeling David had on battle stations. He replayed his interactions with Seville over and over, and something struck him as odd about Seville’s request to talk to Captain Barrigo. Something just wasn’t right; his mind zeroed in on the phrase “And please, do give greetings to your father on my behalf?” He navigated on his tablet to the guest list for the reception on Canaan for the League peace mission.

Going through the list, he quickly determined that Barrigo’s father was on the guest list. “So why would Seville want to give his regards to her father through her?” David wondered out loud to no one in particular. He quickly decided to go down and talk to Barrigo again. He jumped out of his chair, reached for his normal uniform, and quickly put it on. He brought the comm device on his wrist up to his mouth. “Cohen to Tural,” he said into it.

A moment later, he received an answer. “Dr. Tural here. What can I do for you, Colonel?”

“Are you in the medical bay monitoring Captain Barrigo?”

“No, I left Dr. Bhatt in charge.”

“Meet me in the medical bay, then, Doctor.” David left his room and walked down the passageway quickly. He brought his comm device back up and made another call. “Cohen to bridge.”

The command duty officer answered. “Bridge, go ahead, Colonel.”

“Bridge, monitor all communications by the League ships. Quietly.”

“Aye, sir.”

“Cohen out,” David said and continued walking with purpose; he got into a gravlift and took it to deck seven, which housed the main medical bay. Sheila was waiting for him outside of the lift.

“What’s going on, sir?” she asked. “The command duty officer called me and alerted me to your orders. Is something wrong?” she added with a look of concern on her face.

Sheila followed David as he glanced over his shoulder at her. “Something’s going on. Seville’s comments were off. I couldn’t put my finger on it for most of the time, but it just felt wrong.”

“What felt wrong?”

“Seville’s desire to contact Barrigo. Why? She’s going to be at the ceremony and reception; they could talk there. And ‘giving his greetings to her father?’ Javier Barrigo’s supposed to be there too,” David replied.

Sheila looked at him, clearly bewildered. “Maybe Seville’s not attending?”

“He’s on the list as well. Why wouldn’t he be? He’s the head of the military detachment to the mission. No, I think that was some kind of code...” David trailed off, his mind racing as he bounded through the passageway.

Sheila tried to get in front of David to slow him down, but he blew right past her. “Code for what? Listen to yourself, David… I think you’re getting paranoid just because… why? Seville maybe thinks he won’t get to see Barrigo and her father, so he calls her while here and asks for her to say hello for him? Yeah, its weird, but we can’t go derailing the peace process.”

“Or it’s a pre-arranged signal for her to attempt some kind of sabotage on our ship,” David pointed out. “Either way, I have to be sure. I need you on the bridge to make certain nothing untoward happens.”

Sheila glared at David. “You’re actually going to accuse Adriana Barrigo of being a League agent? Because of... this?” She stepped in front of him again and blocked an internal bulkhead door, forcing him to look at her and stop walking. “Listen to yourself, David! You’re sounding like one of those nutjobs who rant on the holonets about ‘spies’ and ‘saboteurs’ being everywhere!”

David set his jaw. “Listen, Sheila... it doesn’t feel right. All of my instincts are telling me something is wrong here.” Seeing she wouldn’t be budged, David drew in a sigh. “I’m not going to call up Seville ranting and raving about treachery, okay? I’m not going to jeopardize the peace process just in case I’m wrong about this. But remember, she’s been a League prisoner for almost a decade now. There have already been cases of long-time POWs being recovered and turning out to have become League sympathizers. Who knows what kind of brainwashing or psychological conditioning they could have subjected Barrigo to?”

“But what purpose would it serve?” Sheila asked. “The League is already succeeding against us militarily. They don’t need some fake peace offer.” Her eyes met his. She had begun to consider what he was saying.

“They may be winning on the battlefield lately, but every time they start another spring offensive, they gain for a while, and then we push them back, typically after the Saurians donate some ships to us under that lend/lease program they run. Or a Matrinid battle group happens to find a League battle group in its space and destroys it. Our allies may not be fully involved in our war, but they help us enough to keep the League in check.” David paused, his gaze drilling into her. “Canaan is under-defended due to this summit coming up. The only ships there are mostly laid up in the docks; their crews reassigned or on home leave. The Home Defense Fleet will be on standby, but all the League needs is a few shots to annihilate entire cities and kill millions. Think about what would happen if they successfully attacked Canaan? Our morale would collapse. It would bring the war directly to our capital and prove that no one is safe.”

Sheila took a half step back. “Promise me you’ll do nothing we can’t take back, David.”

“I’m not nuts. You’ve trusted me for years, Sheila. Trust me one more time. I just want to have a conversation with her and have the doctor do some further tests,” David said quietly.

Sheila stepped to one side to let him pass. “Orders, sir?” she asked, equally quiet and subdued.

“Get to the bridge and get Colonel Demood and some Marines down to the medical bay. I want two sentries posted from now until we get her off the ship,” David said with the voice of command he had worked to perfect.

“Yes, sir. I’ll be on the bridge.” Sheila turned to go and began to walk off before she stopped and turned back toward him. “David, I pray to God with everything in me that you’re wrong.”

David looked back at her. “So do I, Sheila…so do I.”

David continued forward at a pace that was nearly a run toward the medical bay; he reached it before Calvin and the Marines. Walking into the room, he glanced around quickly, looking for the medical personnel. Taking in the scene, he immediately knew he had been right; Barrigo was gone, and the on-duty medical personnel, including a nurse and Dr. Bhatt, were on the ground unconscious. He rushed over and checked the pulses of both and found them to be strong and steady. David picked up the nurse and placed her onto a nearby vacant bed, starting the diagnostic program. As he did this, Doctor Tural strode into the medical bay. “By Allah, what happened here, Colonel?” Tural asked, alarmed.

“I found them like this, Doctor. Help me get Dr. Bhatt up.”

The two men picked up Bhatt and put him into a bed as well. David looked to Tural. “Can you wake one of them up, Doctor? Barrigo is gone, and we need to know what happened.”

Tural checked the vitals of Bhatt and looked at David. “I believe I can wake him with no adverse effects.” As David watched, Tural injected Bhatt with a vial of liquid. After a few moments, the older man began to wake.

David stepped close to Bhatt’s bedside. “Dr. Bhatt. This is Colonel Cohen. Can you hear me? Who attacked you?”

Bhatt looked up, dazed. “Colonel…Doctor…”

His eyes rolled into the back of his head and David shook him. “Stay with me, Doctor,” David said hastily.

“Barrigo attacked us…” Bhatt got out quietly. “She drugged both me and my nurse.”

While Bhatt spoke, Calvin and several Marines jogged into the medical bay. “Sir, reporting as ordered,” Calvin said.

David looked toward Calvin. “Captain Barrigo attacked the medbay personnel a few minutes ago and fled.” David’s face hardened. “I have reason to suspect she is possibly acting as a saboteur for the League.”

Calvin’s face twisted like someone had shoved a knife into him between his ribs. He quickly hid the expression, however, and answered, “Understood, sir. I’ll order my squads to break out combat armor and begin a deck by deck search of the ship.”

“Use the ship’s internal security personnel for the search. I need the rest of your Marines ready for a boarding action.”

“The POW transport,” Calvin answered immediately, “getting it in one,” as David liked to say. “I’ll bring up what we know of that ship type from our database and put together a boarding plan.”

“Very well. Move out, Colonel Demood.”

Calvin braced to attention before departing with the Marines who were with him in tow.

David could feel Dr. Tural’s piercing gaze sinking into his back. He turned around to face the man. “Something wrong, Doctor?”

“You’re a little quick to judge, Colonel,” Tural said. “It’s not unknown for rescued POWs to suffer psychological episodes due to a trigger.”

“Maybe so, but given the circumstances, I’m just trying to be on the safe side,” David stated before softening his tone and words. “No matter what happened, she’s one of us, and I want to give her as much leeway as I can.”

“Bridge to Colonel Cohen,” Sheila’s voice called over David’s comm.

He raised the comm on his wrist and spoke into it. “Go ahead, Major,” David said.

Sheila’s voice continued. “Internal sensors haven’t found her yet. I’ve got Hanson and Merriweather working on fine-tuning the system. We’re not sure if it’s messed up or we just don’t quite understand its quirks yet.”

“Understood. I’ll be joining the search teams.” David tapped a button and cut the call. “Doctor, I’ll have the sergeant-at-arms post men here in case she doubles back. If you see her...”

“Call you and security immediately,” Tural finished.

David nodded and walked out of the room, pausing at an emergency security panel long enough to input his command code and retrieve an energy pulse sidearm. He forced himself not to consider the implications of the situation, and instead solve one problem at a time. The problem now was Captain Barrigo; He hoped against hope that there was an explanation for the events of the last thirty minutes that didn’t involve the League staging the entire thing.

* * *

The League’s peace delegation consisting of half a dozen ambassadors, aides, and diplomatic ministry officials boarded a specially outfitted shuttle that had been stripped of all weapons in the cavernous flight bay of the Destruction. Admiral Seville strode in through the nearest doors and made his way over to Jenner; in tow as always, was the political officer, Colonel Strappi.

“Greetings, Minister,” Seville said.

“Admiral, Colonel,” Jenner replied.

Strappi remained mute as Seville continued, “Are you preparing to head to the surface, Minister?”

“Yes, Admiral, I am. Have you reconsidered joining me on the initial shuttle down to Canaan? The Saurian delegation has requested your presence again.”

“I don’t think it’s wise for me to join you, Minister. I represent fear and terror to these people. I came in the night with my fleet of a thousand ships twenty-seven years ago. I took their invincibility away from them, along with their safety.” Seville paused and pursed his lips. “They need to see someone new; a man of peace, such as yourself. From there, we can work toward a common goal to end this senseless slaughter. I will come down on another shuttle once you have begun your important work.”

“Of course, Admiral.” Jenner glanced toward the shuttle as the last of his team boarded. “I will take my leave of you now, then, and see you shortly.”

“Good luck, Minister.”

“Same to you, Admiral.”

Both men quickly made the salute of the League—the closed fist pressed to the chest—as Jenner turned on his heel to depart. Seville watched Jenner as he entered the shuttle, the hatch closing behind him. Once it was securely shut and the shuttle began to depart, Seville glanced at Strappi.

“That is a pity. I actually like him.”

“I worry he suspects.”

Seville fought down the desire to openly sneer at Strappi. “Of course he doesn’t suspect. He believes we all want a just peace. You worry far too much, Colonel.”

“That is my duty, Admiral.”

“Of course. Now run along and check up on the crew’s morale, then join me on the bridge to watch the Terran Coalition’s death throes.”

29

Striding onto the bridge, Sheila made a beeline for the CO’s chair. Ruth had been standing watch as the command duty officer. “I relieve you, Lieutenant Goldberg,” she said curtly, approaching the CO’s chair.

“I am relieved,” Ruth stated formally, standing from the CO’s chair and retaking the tactical station.

Speaking to the rest of the bridge, Sheila announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, we have a situation. Master Chief, signal an intruder alert to the sergeant-at-arms, but do not trigger the general alarm.”

Tinetariro acknowledged the order. “Yes, ma’am! I’ll have security deployed outside of all sensitive areas. Are we looking for something or someone specific?”

“Captain Adriana Barrigo.”

Tinetariro’s eyebrows shot up. “XO, with respect, what aren’t you telling us?”

“Colonel Cohen believes that the captain is possibly under League influence. She assaulted medical bay staff and has disappeared.”

A dark cloud descended over the bridge. Sheila and Ruth exchanged glances with each other as all eyes focused on Sheila. “We have to find her now and sort out what’s going on,” Sheila said. “TAO, can you calibrate the internal sensors to look specifically for Barrigo?”

“Yes, ma’am! Give me a moment to cross reference her unique signature to our internal sensors.” While she spoke, Ruth was already pulling the proper file out of the ship’s main security library and plugging it into the internal sensor module. “XO… she’s not anywhere on our internal sensor profile,” she reported, not seeing Barrigo anywhere on the ship.

“You can’t just disappear on this ship…” Sheila was dumbfounded at how the woman could have pulled this off as her opinion of the situation quickly moved to mirror David’s. “TAO, run a diagnostic on all weapons systems, specifically looking for sabotage,” Sheila commanded directly, her eyes scrunched together and a frown on her face.

“Yes, ma’am!” Ruth said, her mouth remaining open in shock after responding. Working through the various weapon systems, she called out the status of all systems. “So far, no sabotage to the manual systems, auto-loading systems, energy capacitors all report green. Remote gunnery…” Ruth stopped in mid-sentence, a blinking light catching her attention.

“Lieutenant?” Sheila prodded.

“Ma’am, I’m seeing a remote access to our point defense system,” Ruth said. “It’s not from one of the auxiliary control stations, engineering, or the secondary bridge. Whoever is doing this has set up a wireless connection that is being redirected over an entire section of the ship. This is incredibly skilled hacking.”

“Kick them out now, Lieutenant.”

“I’m trying, ma’am.” Ruth worked through several different commands and security codes before slamming the console with her hands, visibly frustrated. “Whoever it is, is using a high-level override that I can’t defeat.” Ruth cranked her head around to face Sheila. “Who the heck is doing this, XO?”

Ignoring Ruth, Sheila brought her personal communicator up to her mouth. “Thompson to Cohen.”

After a pause, David’s voice crackled through the device. “Go ahead, XO.”

“Sir, we’ve identified an unauthorized access to the remote gunnery system.”

“I’m assuming that you’ve tried to lock the system out without success?”

“Correct, sir. It’s using a high-level override.”

“Wait one, XO.”

Over the active communications link, Sheila heard David attempt to use his own lockout sequence. “Computer, this is Colonel Cohen. Authorization Code Alpha, Tango, November, Bravo, Three Niner One. Terminate all remote gunnery system access.”

The computer’s reply was immediate. “Function cannot be performed. Gold Level command override in place on existing connection.”

Sheila was stunned by the revelation of gold level command. How the heck did she get her hands on those? David interrupted her thoughts. “XO, we’d need a flag officer to override those codes. I can’t cut it off. Can you tell me where the access is coming from? We can get security units there to stop Captain Barrigo.”

“Wait one, sir,” Sheila responded and muted the communications channel. “Got any aces up your sleeve, TAO?”

“Ma’am, that signal is being bounced off eighteen different wireless access points. She’s using our ship’s dispersed control capabilities against us. I’ve narrowed it down to a section of the starboard side, above the flight deck. Decks 10 through 14, Sections 20 through 30.”

Sheila unmuted the channel. “Sir, starboard side, above the flight deck. Decks 10 through 14, Sections 20 through 30.”

Sheila could make out the frustration in David’s voice as he responded, “XO, that’s a lot of space to cover. Is there any other way to narrow it down? I doubt we’ve a lot of time here.”

Sheila pursed her lips together, trying to run ways to find the elusive woman. Suddenly, a light bulb went off in her head. “Wait a minute, sir. Some of the compartments that house the long-range sensor arrays are completely encased in dampening elements so we don’t receive false positive readings. That’s where she’s at.” She pulled up a schematic of the starboard side section of the Lion on the monitor above the CO’s chair. Quickly, zeroing in on the shielded compartments, Sheila brought up her communicator once more. “Sir, there’s three separate compartments she might be in. D11S22, D11S28, and D13SS25.”

“Understood, XO. I’ll take it from here.”

As David’s communications link ended, Sheila looked toward Ruth. “TAO, stand by to disable the remote gunnery system as soon as control is restored.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

* * *

On the bridge of the Destruction, Seville looked quietly at a clock. Strappi was nearby, still nervous, while an officer reported, “Minister Jenner’s shuttle is away, sir.”

“Well, it won’t be long now,” Seville said with satisfaction. “Put the crew on silent alert. Just in case we have... unforeseen complications.”

* * *

David killed the communications link and addressed the security personnel with him. “Sergeant,” he said, gesturing to one of the security teams. “Take Section D11S22.” Gesturing to the other team, he continued, “Corporal, take Section D11S28. I’ll handle D13SS25. Remember, Captain Barrigo is one of our own. Use non-lethal force if at all possible. Move out!”

David took off at a run to the section he left for himself to cover; it took him several minutes to cover the distance. Finding the right passageway and then quickly locating the service panel that opened to reveal a very narrow engineering space, he crawled through, pulling out his energy pulse sidearm and pointing it forward as he traversed the crawlspace. After what seemed like an eternity of crawling through the bowels of the ship, he sighted a small workspace area directly ahead. Taking pains to be quiet but still move quickly, he saw Barrigo staring at a control screen.

* * *

Back on the bridge of the Lion, Ruth called out in alarm. “Conn, TAO. Forward point defense batteries are coming online under remote control!” She watched in horror as a targeting display came alive. “Ma’am, they’re targeting Minister Jenner’s shuttle!”

Sheila stood up from the CO’s chair. “Lock down those weapons, TAO!” she barked.

Ruth shook her head. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I have no control.”

* * *

Meanwhile, David was trying to slip into position to ambush Barrigo when his communicator activated. Sheila’s near panicked voice came through. “Colonel! She’s trying to blow up the League’s shuttle!”

This day just keeps getting better. David jumped into the engineering workspace area where Barrigo was set up. Noticing that Barrigo had a small tablet device plugged into one of the ship’s data lines with crosshairs on top of a shuttle showing on its screen, he wasted no time. “Barrigo!” he shouted at her. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing but put that control down now!”

Barrigo looked at him with a blank stare on her face. “I must fire the guns,” she said as she turned back to her screen and brought her fingers up to it.

David quickly brought up his energy pulse sidearm and fired a shot into her shoulder. Barrigo cried out in pain, dropping the device to the floor while screaming at the top of her lungs. “I must fire the guns! I must do what my father says!”

David turned up the power to his weapon as she reached down to pick the tablet back up. He fired again, the blast hitting the tablet and incinerating it as well as part of her hand. Screaming, Barrigo fell down to the floor, holding her charred and burnt hand.

* * *

On the bridge, Ruth’s targeting screen suddenly went black. “Conn, TAO! I’ve got gunnery control back!” Quickly disarming the point defense systems, she powered down and secured the Lion’s weapons suite. “System secure, ma’am.”

“Conn, communications. The Destruction is warning us to shut down our weapons immediately and explain what is going on,” Taylor said.

Sheila allowed herself a sigh of relief. “Communications, tell them that we had a problem when running a diagnostic, but everything has returned to normal.”

* * *

Back in the crawlspace, David knelt beside Barrigo. Quickly checking her vitals, he found her pulse to be strong, and the wound on her hand cauterized due to the heat of the energy pulse. He pulled his communicator to his lips. “I need a medical team to D13S25, the lateral access space, now!”

David did what he could to make her comfortable as she whimpered in pain. “Barrigo, I need to know who told you to do this?” he asked as non-threateningly as he could.

Her eyes looked as if they were staring right by him to a point hundreds of miles away. “I must do what my father says,” she cried. “I must be a good girl!”

David tried consoling her instead. “Barrigo, your father is waiting for you. Just a little while longer.”

“No!” she cried out again. “He won’t let me come home if I don’t do what he says. He says to fire the guns! Fire the guns! I must fire the guns!”

30

A few minutes after the medical team arrived to tend to Barrigo, David exited the gravlift to the passageway leading to the bridge. Exchanging a quick salute with the two Marines guarding the bridge door, he made his way through the hatch and onto the bridge. He had requested that Amir and Calvin join him on the bridge to discuss the situation; he was happy to see that they had made it there ahead of him, as time was a very precious commodity.

Master Chief Tinetariro announced his presence on the bridge. “Colonel on the bridge!”

David said curtly, “As you were.” He motioned Sheila, Amir, and Calvin over to the main holographic projector in the middle of the bridge. “XO, colonels.”

Sheila was the first to speak. “I’m not sure where to start, sir.”

“We’ll start with the obvious. This peace deal was a farce, designed possibly to turn the rest of the galaxy against us, or at least give the League a pretext to fire on Canaan.”

Calvin made a face. “We should have never trusted those Leaguer bastards. The only good Leaguer is a dead Leaguer, sir.”

Sheila’s face clouded over at Calvin’s words, while Amir looked eager for a fight. David, though, shared Sheila’s concerns. “Colonel Demood, I sense that at the very least, Minister Jenner was sincere. That doesn’t change what we need to do here, but it’s something we should remember.”

Sheila picked up where David left off. “We also need to remember that almost all of the people on those League ships are conscripts, and if they won’t fight, they and their families are executed for treason.”

David cleared his throat as Amir’s face twisted. “Be that as it may, we’ve got a job to do here.” Turning to direct his full attention to Calvin, he continued, “Colonel, do we have enough Marines on this ship to secure the POW transport and save our people? We know they’re there thanks to the Intergalactic Red Cross visits on the way to Canaan.”

Calvin nodded. “I’ve got three hundred Marines on this ship, Colonel. I’ll get them home or I’ll die trying. You’ve got my word on it.”

David cracked a smile. “I’m much more interested in you making the other guys die for their country, Colonel,” he said, referencing the comments made at the dinner with the League.

“Agreed, sir.”

“Amir, do we have enough stores to outfit your wing for anti-capital ship strikes?”

Amir set his jaw. “Yes, sir. What we lack in numbers, we make up with fighting spirit. We have plenty of anti-ship missiles. I’ll have our entire bomber force set up to engage capital ships, and we will stand by on ready five for your order to engage.”

David nodded his understanding. “I hope I’m wrong, folks. I hope the Destruction simply stays in orbit, and this was all some kind of giant misunderstanding or a plot by only a few of the League’s officers. But my gut says very shortly our friends over there are going to go weapons hot and start shooting. So we’re going to be prepared. Sheila, take us to material condition two, get our damage control teams up and running, and make sure those contractors know we’re in a possible combat situation. I want the right groups in the right places to help with repairs should we need it.”

Sheila spoke up. “I hope you’re wrong too, sir.”

“Let’s get to it,” David said with finality. The rest acknowledged him; Calvin and Amir left the bridge quickly. David and Sheila took their posts in the CO’s and XO’s chairs respectively. During the next couple of minutes, David closed his eyes and bowed his head in silent prayer. God, I’ve never asked you for victory, but today, I ask you to give us peace if that is your will. Whatever happens, please spare the lives of those under my command and return them safely to their families.

* * *

On the bridge of the Destruction, the ship was still running at battle stations. Seville could plainly see its crew was whispering about what was going on. He realized Barrigo had been discovered and stopped, or that the programming hadn’t worked. I’m not leaving empty handed. Not after all this time. Twenty-seven years ago, I lost my eye here. Today, they pay. No League warship had been this close to Canaan since the aborted invasion nearly thirty years ago. He motioned toward Colonel Strappi, gesturing for him to come closer.

“Colonel, the plan has failed,” Seville said bluntly.

“That’s impossible. We just have to give it more time,” Strappi trilled back, apparently unable to accept the idea that the State’s plans failed.

Seville fought down his utter contempt for Strappi, staring at him for a moment. “Colonel, we have to adapt. We are so close to the enemy…we haven’t been this close in many years. We can strike fear into the hearts of their civilian population centers.”

“But the State Security Committee—”

“Is not here, Colonel. Think of the medals that will be pinned on your chest by the chairman himself.” Seville smiled thinly. “Let us be bold and decisive.”

In truth, Seville had only given the ruse they had played a fifty percent chance of success to begin with; an orbital strike against the major population centers of Canaan had always been his backup plan.

Strappi cleared his throat. The man was nothing if not predictable; the idea of a medal from the chairman, well, that would always motivate the man. “Alright, Admiral, I’ll go along. Show these religious fanatics that only the embrace of the League of Sol will save them.”

Seville leaned back in his chair. Useful idiots like Strappi came in handy, at least until he had won the war against the Terran Coalition. Seville looked down toward his flag captain. “Captain Antonov, bring all of our weaponry online. Get a firing solution on the largest cities currently in range of our weapons.”

Antonov looked up at Seville with something approaching sadness in his eyes. “Aye aye, Admiral.”

* * *

As soon as the Destruction started powering up its weapons systems, the sensors onboard the Lion of Judah picked it up, and milliseconds later, Ruth saw it appear on her screens. “Conn, TAO. Aspect change, Master One.” she announced. “Master One is powering its main weapons, sir.”

David sat up just a little bit straighter in his chair. “Damn,” he said under his breath toward Sheila, while he punched a button on his console for 1MC. “General Quarters! General Quarters! This is the commanding officer. Man your battle stations! I say again, man your battle stations! Set material condition one throughout the ship. This is not a drill.” As he uttered the words, the general quarters alarm klaxon sounded throughout the vessel, and the lights on the bridge dimmed to a blue color.

“Conn, TAO! Aspect change, Master One. Master One is changing course and heading toward the capital.”

David sucked in his breath. “Navigation, put us between Master One and Canaan. TAO, bring all weapons online, and charge the energy weapon capacitor. Raise shields and activate the automated point defense system.”

Hammond deftly maneuvered the Lion of Judah between the Destruction and the planet, making use of the superior sub-light engines on the Lion and her tactical thruster system. “Conn, navigation. Holding steady on course two, one, six. Master One is directly off our starboard quarter.”

David could see Ruth carrying out her orders as the tactical readout above his head showed the shields going up, and various weapons systems coming online.

Sheila leaned over David’s shoulder and quietly asked, “Sir, shouldn’t we ask for instructions from command?”

“No time, XO. Besides, Barton is the commander of the home defense fleet.”

She scrunched her nose in response. “Point taken.”

“Conn, TAO! Aspect change, Master One. Master One has locked its weapons onto us and has completed charging its weapons.”

At this point, the Destruction could fire on the Lion at any time. David looked toward Taylor. “Communications, signal the Destruction, warn them off.”

A couple of seconds passed before Taylor responded, “No response, sir.”

So this is it. A fake peace deal, the Trojan horse defeated, and now the League will try to kill as many as they can before they run away. David paused for just a moment. He knew that there would be many that would try to hang the debacle on him, but more importantly, on his crew. He also knew what had to be done; the Destruction could not be allowed to fire on Canaan, and it couldn’t be allowed to leave the system with the information it had undoubtedly gleaned from sensor sweeps. Still, he didn’t want to fire the first shot, and he figured that Seville was hoping he would get a propaganda coup against the Terran Coalition. He looked to Ruth next. “TAO, firing point procedures, Master One, all forward mag-cannons and neutron beam emitters,” he stated as formally as possible.

“Aye, sir, firing solution set,” Ruth responded automatically as her training took over; her hands betrayed her nerves as they shook for a moment.

The second-guessing by David ended a few seconds later. “Conn, TAO! Aspect change, Master One! Master One has opened fire!” Ruth nearly shouted, and a moment later, the ship rocked slightly as weapons fire slammed into the Lion from the League dreadnought. “Shield’s holding, sir!” Ruth announced after reviewing the status displays on her console.

David leaned forward in his chair. “TAO, match bearings, shoot, all weapons, Master One.”

Weapons fire erupted from the Lion’s forward and aft magnetic-cannon turrets, and at the close range, there were no misses. The Destruction’s shields flared, absorbing the hits, which were followed up by attacks from the Lion’s secondary weapons system, its neutron cannon emitters, which fired directed energy pulses.

“Conn, TAO. Multiple clean hits on Master One. Master One shields are holding.” As Ruth spoke, the ship buckled again as incoming weapons fire hit it. “Conn, TAO. Aspect change, Master Two! It’s powering up its engines and charging its Lawrence drive.”

David’s head snapped around; with the transport attempting to jump out, he would have to disable it to give the Marines time to board the ship and secure it. “TAO, firing point procedures, Master Two! Target its engines only with the neutron cannons. Disabling shots only, TAO.” The overwhelming stress of a combat situation in point blank range of Canaan was getting to him, and everyone else on the bridge.

“Aye aye, sir, firing solution set.”

“TAO, match bearings, shoot, neutron cannons, Master Two.”

Blue beams of energy darted out from the Lion once again, stabbing into the League POW transport; they cut through the shields and hull of the ship like a hot knife through butter, neatly slicing off the engine exhausts and manifolds. The League transport was effectively unable to further maneuver in space.

“Conn, TAO, Master Two disabled,” Ruth said, exhaling sharply.

“TAO, firing point procedures, Master One, Magnetic cannons and neutron beams,” David said, resuming the attack on the Destruction.

As Ruth made the necessary calculations, David looked toward Taylor. “Communications, signal Colonel Demood… he is ordered to release the breaching pods and secure Master Two by any means necessary. Alert command that we’ve engaged the enemy and request reinforcements.”

31

Calvin stood next to his second-in-command, Major Raul Cabello, reviewing a 3D projected schematic of the League Transport that contained the POWs. “This just looks gnarly, Cabello,” he pointed to the areas of the ship they had no intelligence on. “How many Force Recon Marines do we have on this tub?”

Since Force Recon was considered Special Operations Capable forces, they were the most trained and best equipped Marines onboard the Lion of Judah. Under normal conditions, the MEU would have a company of actual special forces operators attached, but the Lion only had three hundred out of three thousand Marines currently embarked. Thankfully, of three companies attached, one was a light company of Force Recon Marines.

Cabello looked up from the schematic and spoke, thick with a Spanish accent, “Forty, Colonel. I’ve ordered them all to suit up and prepare for VBSS.” VBSS was what the Marines called “Visit, Board, Search, and Seizure.” “We can breach one team of twenty on the port side of the ship and the rest on the starboard side to split the defense security teams inside the ship. After that, we have the rest of our two hundred and sixty combat Marines board and secure the areas the spearheads take.” Two bright dots began to glow on the schematic, indicating where Cabello planned to insert TCMC forces.

Calvin nodded. “Looks good to me. What about EOD?” he asked, referring to Explosive Ordnance Disposal. “We didn’t get our team on before the ship launched, and I’d wager we’ll see some booby traps over there.”

“Well…” Cabello said. “We have a volunteer.”

Calvin raised an eyebrow. “A volunteer?”

“I think I’ll let him speak for himself.” He motioned to a Marine sergeant standing near the hatch to the passageway. “Sergeant, bring Mr. Uzun in.”

The sergeant motioned to someone in the passageway from Calvin’s perspective, and a few moments later, an older man in civilian clothing walked into the room and strode over to Cabello and Calvin. “Gunnery Sergeant Hadi Uzun, reporting for duty, Colonel,” the man said crisply in accented English.

Calvin couldn’t quite place the accent. As he looked the man over, he appeared to be in good shape, wearing an engineering technician’s jumpsuit and work belt. “You’re out of uniform, Gunny,” he said with a trace of a smile.

“I’ve been out of uniform for eight years, Colonel. But I spent fifteen years in the Marines specializing in explosive device disposal,” Uzun said, looking Calvin in the eyes. “I’m onboard as a member of the contractor team. I overheard some of your Marines talking about needing an EOD tech as I was checking a power relay. If you’ll have me, I’m your man.”

“Colonel, I took the liberty of pulling Mr. Uzun’s service jacket. He was honorably discharged for medical reasons and has high performance rankings during his time as an EOD technician.”

Calvin looked at Cabello. “I can’t allow a civilian to join a boarding op against a League POW transport, Major. Good Lord, how many regs does that break?”

Uzun cleared his throat. “Colonel…once a Marine, always a Marine.”

Calvin glanced back to Uzun; he could tell Cabello backed putting the man onboard, and he knew they desperately needed someone that could disarm League booby traps and the onboard self-destruct system. “Damn right, Gunny. Get in uniform and get a bomb suit. We’re dusting off as soon as the bridge gives the order.”

A change seemed to come over Uzun; he stood just a little bit taller and a little bit straighter. “Sir, yes sir! Semper fi!” he said to Calvin, and then turned on his heel to leave.

At that moment, a corporal rushed up to Calvin and Cabello. “Sirs, Colonel Cohen has requested that the rescue operation begin immediately.”

Calvin looked toward Cabello. “Get those boys in the breaching pods, Cabello. I will take team A, you take team B. Corporal, please relay to the bridge that we will be ready to launch momentarily.”

* * *

“Conn, TAO! Master One’s aft shielding is close to collapse, sir,” Ruth announced.

“TAO, firing point procedures, forward vertical launch array. Target eight Hunter missiles on Master One’s aft section, make tubes one through eight ready in all respects,” David said, deciding to use the precious Hunter missiles his ship carried. Hunters carried advanced artificial intelligence and could evade all but the absolute best League point defense systems; in this combat, the League battleship lacked its escorts and the overlapping point defense coverage they carried. He wanted to end the battle quickly and disable the Destruction.

“Aye aye, sir, firing solution set for eight Hunter missiles on Master One. Tubes one through eight ready in all respects.”

“TAO, match bearings, shoot, tubes one through eight, Master One,” David said.

Ruth pressed the launch button on her console, and eight Hunter missiles thundered into space from the Lion’s forward vertical launch array; a missile cell that popped out of ship’s superstructure and could retract to be reloaded fully in less than an hour. The array held one hundred and twenty missiles in total, of which forty were Hunters and the rest less sophisticated, but still powerful LIDAR tracking variants called Starbolt missiles.

“Conn, TAO. All missiles running hot, straight and normal sir.”

The Hunters went active a thousand meters from the Lion and quickly linked with the Lion’s tactical network, locking on to the Destruction. Evading enemy point defense weaponry, they plunged into the weakened aft shield. Out of the eight, six hit their target and two were destroyed by point defense; the shielding on the aft of the Destruction flared violently and winked out.

“Conn, TAO. Master One’s aft shield has collapsed.”

David began to form the words to order Ruth to capitalize on this development and pound the Destruction’s aft quadrant with mag-cannon and neutron beam fire, but before he could, Taylor interrupted him. “Conn, communications! General Barton is demanding to speak to you, sir.”

David just groaned inwardly. Of all the times, I have to deal with Barton now? “Put it on my viewer, Lieutenant,” David said rather matter-of-factly.

Barton’s face popped onto the viewer that hung from the ceiling above David’s chair. “Colonel! What are you doing? I show sustained weapons fire between you and the peace convoy!”

David fought to keep his neutral expression. “General, sir, we discovered a League saboteur onboard the Lion. She has been apprehended, but the Destruction opened fire on us after—”

“You are supposed to be securing peace in our time, Colonel! Not starting another war! Stand down now! The Ark Royal will deal with this!”

David glanced at Sheila out of the corner of his eye. “General, we can’t stand down. If we disengage, the Destruction will be free to fire on Canaan.”

While Barton was yelling, Sheila made a gesture across her throat to Taylor, indicating for him to cut the line.

“Colonel, I said—” The screen blinked out mid-sentence.

David cranked his head over to Taylor, who shrugged apologetically. “I’m sorry, sir, General’s Barton’s signal seems to dropped. Should I try to get him back?”

Sheila smirked despite herself. “I don’t think we have time for him right now, sir,” she said with a trace of mirth in her voice.

“I concur, XO. TAO, firing point procedures—”

“Conn, TAO! Aspect change, Master One! Master One is powering up her Lawrence drive!”

David quickly adjusted his tactics. “Navigation, match course and speed, Master One. TAO, drain the energy weapons capacitor. Navigation, charge the Lawrence drive!”

Sheila glanced at David. “Sir, are we going to pursue them?” She looked somewhat doubtful of the strategy.

“Of course we are, XO. We’ve got to. They’ve been inside Canaan’s defense parameter and beyond that. This is a massive propaganda victory for the League. We’ve got to neutralize that ship.”

“Yes, sir.”

He could tell from her tone that she wasn’t completely sold on the idea, but David’s gut was almost always right. Besides, I’d really like to take down a League dreadnought in our first combat. If nothing else, that’ll help morale on the home front.

“Communications, Conn. Colonel Demood reports that they are ready to begin the rescue operation on Master Two.”

David felt relief at the news; they could pursue the Destruction without leaving the POWs behind. “Communications, patch me through to Colonel Demood.”

A moment later, Taylor said, “Sir, Colonel Demood is patched into your console.”

David glanced down and spoke into the mic. “Demood, this is Cohen. Bring them home. Godspeed, and good luck.”

Calvin’s voice crackled through the speaker. “Godspeed Colonel, Demood out.”

“Conn, TAO! Master One has successfully opened a wormhole.”

David snapped his head up. “Navigation, all ahead flank. Follow Master One through that wormhole. TAO, stand by to immediately reacquire Master One upon transit.”

There was a chorus of “Yes, sirs,” followed by action on the part of Ruth and Hammond; David stared at his tactical plot as the Destruction disappeared from their screens. The two breaching pods from the Lion launched, followed by several large shuttlecraft headed directly for the transport; with that, the Lion was ready to pursue the fleeing enemy ship. The Lion’s engines rapidly accelerated and the ship flew through the void, following into the wormhole generated by the Destruction before the wormhole’s vortex collapsed in a dazzling array of colors.

32

The Lion of Judah emerged from the wormhole close on the trail of the Destruction. In the seconds it took for sensors to snap back on and the ships to recover from the stress of wormhole transition, the bridge crews of both ships steeled themselves to reenter the fight. On the bridge of the Destruction, Admiral Seville watched Colonel Strappi pace the floor of the bridge. Fighting the urge to sneer at the man, he counted down the seconds in his head until the ship’s sensors snapped back online.

“Communications, signal our reinforcements to transit to our coordinates now,” Seville commanded.

A moment later, the communications officer looked up from his station. “Admiral, message received and confirmed. They will jump in momentarily.”

Strappi walked over to Seville and leaned close. “Admiral, what reinforcements?” he asked, bewildered.

Seville smiled thinly at his political officer. “I had a small squadron of my best ships waiting just in case we needed them. I had expected to see the pride of the Coalition fleet, the Ark Royal, pursuing us, but they’ll do against this new ship just the same.”

“How did you get this past the Social and Public Safety Committee, Admiral?” Strappi asked, the tone of his voice indicating a level of respect and fear.

“Because not everything in the League goes through the bloody Social and Public Safety Committee,” Seville said, derision dripping from his voice like acid. “There was a contingency plan in place if we needed it. Turns out we did.”

The tactical officer broke into the conversation with an announcement. “Admiral, we have eight wormholes opening; our reinforcements have arrived.”

Seville smiled. “Checkmate.”

* * *

On the bridge of the Lion of Judah, David had been counting down the seconds until his ship could see again, ready to finish the fight against the League warship.

“Conn, TAO! LIDAR array online…” Ruth’s voice shot up an octave. “I’m showing nine contacts, sir!”

“Confirm that, TAO! What are the ship classes of those contacts?” David barked. Sheila stared in alarm.

“Conn, TAO. I show one Behemoth class Dreadnaught, designation Master One…four Rand class cruisers designated Master Two through Five…and four Lancer class frigates designated Master Six through Nine. Sir, the Rands have fighter craft detaching from them. I’m reading some kind of rail launch system.”

Rail launch system for fighters, what the heck? David had read about a contraption like that in intelligence reports concerning the very top tier of League ships and elite crews but had never engaged one in combat. He quickly realized that this battle group was designed to engage a fleet carrier without her escorts. But perhaps not a battleship of the Lion’s design. Stopping himself from overthinking the tactics, he concentrated on the situation at hand. He had to solve one problem at a time and prevent the enemy from getting inside of his OODA loop. “TAO, do you have a read on how many fighters we’re facing and what types?”

“Sir, I estimate at least fifty League fighters. They’re too far out to identify fully, but at least some appear to be larger bombers.”

“Conn, TAO! Aspect change, all contacts. They are moving to engagement range, sir. Master One through Five are standing off, while Master Six through Nine are maneuvering to cover our fighter bays with point defense fire.”

David punched up his tactical plot on the viewer directly in front of his command station. It was clear that the League fleet intended to prevent him from launching fighters, while they overwhelmed the defenses of the Lion. He quickly decided that the only course of action was to disable the frigates and scramble the Lion’s fighter wing to engage the League fighters and capital ships.

“TAO, firing point procedures. Load high-explosive shells into the mag-cannons. Target Master Six, Seven, Eight, and Nine with mag-cannons and neutron beams.”

“Aye aye, sir, weapons loaded, firing solutions set.”

“TAO, shoot, all weapons,” David said, a hard edge to his voice.

Magnetic cannon rounds shot out from the Lion, striking the shields of all four League frigates. As the high-explosive rounds impacted, causing extensive energy drain, neutron beam fire raked over the frigates. The shields of the two closest frigates failed, and they exploded as multiple impacts slammed into their weak and brittle hulls.

“Conn, TAO. Master Six and Eight destroyed, Master Nine neutralized, Master Seven is continuing on course,” Ruth said.

“TAO, spin up automated point defense, set a perimeter around the ship so our fighters can launch.”

“Conn, TAO. Automated Point Defense engaged. We have a perimeter of twenty thousand kilometers.”

David reassessed his tactical plot. “Communications, get me Colonel Amir.”

Taylor cued up Amir’s personal command channel. “He’s patched in to your station, sir.”

David spoke into the mic. “Amir, I need you to launch your wing and engage the League fighters and capital ships. I want to engage the Rands and degrade them enough so we can close in and finish this.”

Amir’s voice came through strong in reply. “Understood, Colonel. The Reapers are standing by to launch. We are armed up for interdiction and capital ship engagement.”

David glanced down at the mic as he spoke into it. “Good hunting and Godspeed, Colonel.”

“Inshallah.”

* * *

Amir was in the middle of running his final pre-flight check when David ordered the launch of the wing. Once completed, he cued the pre-set communications channel to his second in command, Major Rebecca Tulleny. “Ready to go?” he asked informally.

“Yes, sir,” she said. “I was hoping this peace deal was the real thing.” Sadness filled her voice.

“We’ve got a job to do, Major. Let’s get out of here and kick them back to Earth,” Amir replied. Truthfully, he hated the League with a passion. He considered fighting them to be a form of Jihad, and he was glad to give his life fighting them if that was what it took.

In times like this, Amir simply saw red and wanted to blow as many League craft and pilots out of space as he could. When the rage subsided, he would repent and ask Allah to forgive him, but for now, he was still mad as hell.

Amir switched his commlink to the Air Bosses’ line. “Boss, we’re ready to go. Request permission to launch.”

“This is the boss. Colonel, all squadrons are cleared to launch in order, Reapers first. Godspeed.”

Amir then flipped his commlink to reach his squadron commanders. “Attention, we are cleared for launch. Stand by to launch as called by the boss… Reapers are launching first. Once we’re in space, form up and stand by for further orders.”

Amir looked down at his console and pressed the button to launch. He was always the first in space; there was no feeling like the thrill of launching at full speed out of the side of a hangar into the blackness of the void. It never got old; he could never see himself doing anything else. Pressed back into his seat from the extreme G forces, mitigated though they were by the design of his pilot’s chair and the inertial dampening systems of his craft, the fighter thundered into space. In the few minutes it took for the roughly fifty fighters carried on the Lion to launch, he studied the sensor readouts of the approaching League craft as they did.

As the last of his wing thundered into space, Amir cued his commlink to a private channel. “Reaper One to Tiger One.”

“Go ahead, sir,” Tulleny said.

“I want your squadron to form up with our bombers and provide close escort. I and the rest of Reapers will engage the incoming bombers.”

“Understood, Colonel. Godspeed.”

“Inshallah.”

Amir pulled up his HUD and spent some time pondering the best attack approach. While the League craft did outnumber them almost two to one, he felt confident in the training of his pilots and in the quality of their combat spacecraft compared to the League’s. CDF technology was always a few steps ahead of the League, and League training had nothing on the Coalition. Fifteen seconds out from maximum engagement range, he cued the commlink to reach his entire squadron.

“Reapers, this is Reaper One. There’s a layer of League fighters screening their bombers. We’ll take one shot at the fighters with guided missiles as we pass, but our objective is to knock down as many bombers as possible. Weapons status free!”

On his HUD, the entire squadron signaled its understanding, which translated into green dots next to each pilot’s name and craft. As his fighter entered max range, Amir locked on to a League fighter; it took several seconds for him to hear the lock-on sound, or what the pilots called tone. “Reaper One, Fox Three,” he called out as he fired an active LIDAR tracked missile. There were other calls of Fox Three from his squadron, as every fighter lined up and fired on a League craft. Simultaneously, the League fighters fired their own missiles at the wave of CDF fighters.

With some level of surprise, Amir watched his HUD as most of the missiles fired by his fighters were evaded by the League craft; only two hit their intended targets, and of those, only one was a hard kill. Blasting through the League formation, he turned his attention to lining up and engaging the lumbering League bombers.

Sliding in behind one of the multi-crewed craft, Amir pulled up his miniature neutron cannons and fired on the bomber in front of him. “Reaper One, guns, guns, guns.”

It took several seconds of sustained fire and multiple hits from his neutron cannons before the League bomber finally exploded. “Reaper One, splash one. Splash one bandit!”

The missile warning light and tone suddenly sounded in Amir’s cockpit. He realized that while he was engaging the bomber, two League fighters had gotten onto his six. In the time it took him to locate the League fighters, he had two missiles inbound on his craft. While part of his brain basically wondered where the League had gotten what appeared to be an entire squadron of elite pilots, his training had simply snapped in and took over as he responded to the threat.

Noting that both incoming missiles were classified as heat-seeking by the onboard tactical computer, Amir triggered his flare launchers, sending dozens of bright, white-hot energy signature generators, which would have the effect of confusing the incoming missiles. One missile quickly veered off, taking the bait and exploding. The other stayed on target, tracking him move for move

Amir reinforced his aft shielding and pulled up hard on the flight stick after deploying more flares; the final missile exploded far too close for comfort, sending his fighter spinning and tumbling.

In the several seconds it took Amir to get his fighter back under control, his wingman reported in. “Reaper Two to Reaper One, you’ve still got three bandits on your six. I’m moving to engage the bandit closest to me now, over.”

Glancing at the 3D battle map on his HUD, Amir could see his wingman closing in on the League fighter that was furthest away from him. That left two deadly interceptors in his blind spot trying to lock on for a shot. He adjusted himself in his flight chair as the missile warning light came on again; this time, he pulled the stick down hard and increased the thrust to maximum. The Gs he pulled were so high that he approached black out. But his gamble paid off; he found himself hurtling toward the enemy fighters and blew past them so fast that neither he or the enemy could obtain a lock.

Looping back around, Amir pushed his fighter to its maximum limits and took advantage of momentary disorientation by the League pilots. He settled in behind one of the craft that fired a missile at him, triggering his target acquisition system. “Reaper One, Fox Three!” he said as the LIDAR guided missile leapt from its launching bay on his fighter and roared after the League craft. After successfully tracking the League fighter for several seconds, the missile connected and blew it to bits.

Not wanting to take the time to obtain another weapons lock, Amir opted to use a heat-seeking missile on the next target. Pulling up the weapons selector on his HUD, he mentally selected the warhead and launched it in the direction of the remaining League fighter. Taking a moment to check in on the progress of his squadrons, he noted that the bombers and their escorting fighters had made it through the furball that was ongoing and were heading toward the League capital ships.

Losses seemed to be higher than normal for an engagement of this type, leading Amir to conclude he was seeing elite pilots and perhaps elite machines. That determination would be for later, though, as the second fighter he had targeted was hit by the missile and destroyed. Before he could call out the two kills, his wingman announced killing the third League fighter. “Reaper Two, Splash one. Splash one bandit!”

Cueing the communications channel, Amir called out, “Reaper One, Splash two. Splash two!”

Hotdogging just a little bit, Amir then performed a barrel roll in his fighter while saying “Allahu Akbar,” an Arabic saying for “God is Great.” He then picked the nearest bomber and closed in to engage. God willing, my squadron will finish off the enemy.

* * *

David held on tightly to the arms of his station as the bridge rocked from weapon impacts on the shielding system of the Lion. Glancing at the tactical plot on his station, he observed that the League ships had formed a tight sphere providing overlapping fire support, making it difficult for the Lion to pick one off to even the odds.

“Conn, TAO. Forward shield emitter’s effectiveness is decreasing, sir.”

David decided to gamble and try to take out one of the Rands. “Navigation, all ahead full, intercept course on Master Three.” That specific Rand was just slightly out of position from David’s read. “TAO, firing point procedures, Master Three. Mag-cannons and neutron beams.”

“Conn, TAO. Firing solutions set on Master Three.”

“TAO, match bearings, shoot, all weapons.”

Magnetic cannon shells raced out from the Lion of Judah at thirty percent of the speed of light toward the League formation. Most impacted upon the shields of the targeted Rand, weakening said shields dramatically. The neutron beam strikes inflicted damage on the hull plating of the Rand, but not enough to disable it. While the Lion’s weapons recharged, the Rand shifted formation, falling back to the other side of the sphere formation while another ship covered her. However, the League ships were free to continue to pour weapons fire onto the Lion.

“Conn, TAO! Master Three has disengaged after receiving moderate damage, sir.”

As Ruth spoke, weapon impacts slammed into the Lion from the three Rand’s remaining in line of sight, in addition to the Destruction. “Conn, TAO. Forward shield collapse is imminent, sir.”

“Damnit,” David said under his breath, drawing a look from Sheila. “Navigation, left thirty degrees, turn our forward shield out of the enemies firing arc, and present our port shield quadrant.”

Hammond responded, “Aye aye, sir, left thirty degrees!” as weapons fire continued to rake the Lion.

“TAO, firing point procedures, Master Two. Magnetic cannons and neutron beams…let’s keep them guessing.”

“Aye, sir, firing solutions set.”

“TAO, match bearings, shoot, all weapons.”

As another round of weapons fire erupted from the Lion, more incoming plasma bolts slammed into the Lion’s forward quadrant. Plasma bolts peppered the hull of the ship, causing limited damage through the ablative armor.

“Conn, TAO! Forward shield has collapsed, sir!”

David looked toward Hammond. “Navigation, maximum turn!” he barked.

“Conn, navigation. Acknowledged, sir. We’re moving as fast as she can. Another seven seconds before we’ve got our forward shield out of their firing lane.”

As Hammond spoke, a strong shock was felt by David and the rest of the bridge crew, lurching the ship forward. Several seconds later, the speaker on David’s station sprang to life. “Engineering, Conn. This is Major Hanson. We’re showing a fire in the forward ammunition magazine.”

David’s jaw dropped. “Say again, engineering?”

“Fire in the forward ammunition magazine, sir. Recommend we vent it into space to avoid further casualty to the ship.”

“Engineering, vent the forward ammunition magazine.”

A few moments passed and there was a pregnant pause on the line. “Sir, venting controls are inoperative,” Hanson reported. David looked at Sheila, thinking that this new development could be a disaster. If the magnetic cannon rounds or missiles began to cook off or explode, it would destroy the ship from the inside out. Clearly lacking a shakedown cruise before being put into use, the Lion was going to suffer from a lot of small glitches. It was just that this one had an outsized effect on the ship.

“Engineering, get as many damage control teams as we can to the magazine.” David spoke into the mic and then glanced at Sheila. “XO, get down there and put that fire out by any means necessary. Hanson, the XO is going to take local command of the damage control teams,” David said into the mic rapidly.

“Aye, sir, engineering out.”

Sheila stood. “Don’t get this ship shot out from under us during your first combat in it, sir,” she said with a smile.

“Godspeed,” David said, glancing at her briefly as she walked away from the command station.

33

In orbit of Canaan, the ominous black mass of the League Type-D cargo ship grew larger by the second as the breaching pod careened toward it. Calvin sat in the co-pilot’s chair onboard next to the warrant officer that flew the pod. He watched the distance closing rapidly and glanced over at the pilot.

“Ever done this before, Bradshaw?” he asked.

“No, sir,” the young woman replied, tight-lipped. “I don’t think any of us have boarded a POW transport over Canaan before, sir.”

Calvin snickered. “How about any ships, Warrant?”

“Yes, sir, just a few times.”

“Well, try not to rock us so hard we throw up,” Calvin retorted, smiling.

“What’s the matter, Colonel, age catching up with you?” she asked with a grin.

“What is it with all the wiseasses on this ship?” Calvin said with mock annoyance.

Instantly, the pilot was all business. “All right, sir, this is where it gets bumpy. About ten seconds out from hard dock.” She keyed the intercom for the pod. “Brace! Brace! Brace! Prepare for impact, Marines!”

Calvin took heed and braced himself as best as he could in the co-pilot’s chair. As the seconds ticked down, he found himself saying a prayer. God, I know I’m probably the last person you want to hear from, seeing as my job is to go out and kill people. Please help me and my men to save these POWs. Something good can still come of this, and I need your help to make it happen. Amen.

There was a loud bang and a hard impact as the pod slammed into the side of the League transport. “Okay, we’re locked on,” the pilot said.

Calvin stood up from his seat. “Prepare to breach the ship, Warrant.” Cueing the internal commlink in his power armor, he keyed the channel for Cabello. “Major, what’s your status?”

Cabello’s accented voice came through. “About to breach.”

“Breach on my mark.”

Stepping back into the cargo area, his twenty Force Recon Marines, along with the EOD technician Hadi Uzun, stood ready. Their weapons pointed at the aft door, waiting for it to open. Calvin glanced over at the awaiting team. “I’m not much on the big inspirational speech crap. I’m a Marine. I’ve always been a Marine, and Marines do not leave our own behind!” He finished the final line with a shout.

The twenty-one Marines responded with one voice, “Hoorah!”

“We will defeat the enemy! Regardless of their number! We do this or we don’t leave this ship. Do you get me, Marines?”

“Yes, sir!” the squad responded, loud and clear.

“Then get in there and kill those Leaguer bastards! Bradshaw, breach now!” Calvin cued his commlink. “Cabello, breach!”

A moment later, the aft door blew outward, and a couple of dazed League security officers raised their weapons to open fire. Before they could get off a shot, the lead Marines fired sub-sonic but highly lethal rounds from their M-35 combat rifles and both officers dropped dead. Calvin had ordered non-lethal rounds to be carried, in case the team got into a firefight with POWs in the line of fire, but otherwise, they were to use lethal ammunition designed specifically for space boarding actions.

“Squad one, move out! Squad two, cover our rear!” Calvin said, walking out of the pod with the rest of the Marines.

They divided into two squads of ten; one moved forward with Calvin in the middle. Pulling up the limited schematics of the ship in his HUD, he ordered his Marines forward toward what he thought were the engineering spaces. Cabello would first gain control of the shuttle bay and start landing additional combat Marines to help mop up. A few meters down the passageway, a group of several League security officers came around a corner and opened fire. The Marines engaged almost immediately, cutting down the League troops with ease. One of his Marines took a round in his chest armor with no loss of combat effectiveness. The EOD tech, per his orders, stayed with the rear guard. Calvin was unwilling to take any chances with him, regardless of his ability to handle himself in a firefight.

It took them a few minutes, but the Leaguers finally began to respond in force to the TCMC attack. “Colonel,” Cabello’s voice said through the commlink. “We’re encountering heavy resistance in the shuttle bay. They’re throwing everything they’ve got at us.”

“More than you can handle?”

“Never.”

“Let me know when you’ve got control of the area. This ship’s big and we need more support.”

“Yes, sir!”

The point man for the squad rounded a corner and was immediately greeted by sustained weapons fire. Calvin and a few other Marines were right behind him and ran into a buzzsaw; the Leaguers had set up an anti-vehicle weapon in the passageway and were using it on his troops. The point man collapsed as he took several rounds to his chest.

Calvin’s Marines made themselves as small as they could and returned fire down the passageway, killing some of the enemy combatants but failing to silence the heavy weapons fire. He grabbed the Marine that carried the squad automatic weapon. “Corporal, you got armor-piercing rounds?” he asked over the din of battle.

“Yes, sir! Locked and loaded, sir!”

“Follow me!”

Taking the corporal and another Marine down a side passageway, Calvin walked the distance to where he thought the checkpoint was located on the other side of the wall. “Okay, Corporal, fire through the wall and take down that strongpoint.”

The corporal raised his weapon and fired on full auto for ten seconds, rounds spraying forth and stitching up and down the wall. A few seconds later, Calvin’s comm chirped. “Sir, not sure what you did, but those Leaguers just got hosed. We’ve cleared the area and are ready to breach the engineering space.”

Calvin and the two Marines with him made their way back to the main group that stood outside of a large bulkhead door for the engineering space. Stepping over fallen League soldiers, he stopped to take the dog tags of the Marine that had fallen earlier. Later, they would retrieve his body for burial. Walking up to the door, he looked at the Marines to his right and to his left. “Okay, boys, let’s blow this door, take over the engineering room, and go the hell home,” he said in his best hard-ass Marine voice.

With a nod from Calvin, one of the Marines triggered a breaching charge, blowing the bulkhead door backward in a shaped explosion. The rest charged through the opening into a firestorm of rounds from League soldiers. A couple went down, but the power-armored Marines had superior protection and firepower; they quickly cut through most of the resistance and fanned out through the engineering core. Most of the engineering personnel surrendered, but a few snatched up weapons from the fallen League security troops and tried to keep fighting.

Calvin put a trio of rounds into an engineer that jumped up in front of him, but not before the man fired a burst of bullets into his armor. Looking to his right, he grunted, “Gotta give these guys credit; what they lack in ability, they make up for with guts.” The corporal that was covering his flank smirked inside of his suit.

“Well, if you know your family will be killed if you surrender, it must be a driving factor.”

Calvin grunted again. “Good point, Corporal.”

As he reached the main rector housing, he took note of a couple of Goliaths; League Marines in their version of power armor. They were crouched around a technician who was frantically working on a console. Bringing up his arm in the signal for “Stop,” the corporal and another Marine behind him froze.

Calvin made the hand signals to engage the Leaguers and took up a firing position. Like a well-oiled machine, the friendlies with him took up flanking positions stealthily. On his signal, they opened fire; unlike the other League troops, the Goliath suits soaked up repeated hits from the Marines’ rifles. The League Marines dove behind cover and returned fire, with a lucky shot catching the corporal to Calvin’s right in the helmet, killing him instantly.

Son of a bitch! He yanked a high-explosive grenade off his belt and pulled the pin, tossing it at the nearest Goliath. The explosion momentarily blinded Calvin, and the Leaguer tried to move but was clearly wounded. Calvin pumped rounds into his back until he stopped moving and lay still on the ground. Another enemy popped up from cover and opened fire on Calvin, hitting him repeatedly. The wind knocked out of his chest, he fell backwards, firing blindly as he went. After a moment, the incoming fire ceased.

Calvin caught his breath and stuck his head up, seeing the other League Marine lying motionless on the ground with blood flowing out of his helmet. Wow, there really is a God. Calvin stood and advanced on the League technician. “Step away from that console and show me your hands! Now!” Calvin shouted.

The technician looked up with a snarl, and Calvin’s finger rested on the trigger to his rifle. He didn’t want to shoot an unarmed man. “Screw you, zealot!” the man shouted as he simultaneously brought his hand down on a computer screen. A split second later, Calvin pulled the trigger, sending three rounds into the man, center mass.

He collapsed in a heap as Calvin advanced and looked down at the screen. The words “Self-Destruct Enabled—05:00” in red stared back at him. It took him a moment to notice that the numbers were counting down. He keyed his mic. “Get Uzun over here. We’ve got a problem!”

* * *

Sheila rounded the corner and came upon a couple of dozen soldiers in fire-retardant suits, lugging hoses and fire-extinguishing equipment. “Report, Master Chief!”

“About to breach, XO. Get your hood on!” the tough old master chief said.

He looks like he was he born in the CDF. “No time. I’m here to coordinate anyway.”

“Stay back then. I expect some flashing.”

Maybe this wasn’t the best idea. It’s been a decade since I did damage control, and a fire spreading over our heads isn’t my idea of fun. She’d briefly considered putting on a zero-G suit but decided against it as time was of the essence. In the old days, crews had to contend with zero-G fires, which behaved strangely compared to a fire in gravity. Thankfully, artificial gravity generators had solved the problem a century ago for the Terrans.

“Understood, Master Chief. Breach that hatch and let’s get this fire out.”

Smoke wafted out of the edges of the hatch, giving some indication to the seriousness of the situation. Sheila fell back to the rear of the formation of firefighters as the master chief dogged the hatch open. Flames shot out of the entryway, engulfing a fireman in flames. The team was quick to hose him down in CO2, his protective suit doing its job. She hung back for a few seconds before entering at the rear of the team. What she saw shocked her. Massive plumes of flames shot through the large bay; the fire was clearly out of control.

“Master Chief! Clear the way to the controls for fire suppression system! That’s our best solution.”

“Yes, ma’am! Corporal, put down a wave of foam. Mathews, check those controls!”

For a few frantic minutes, the team sprayed CO_2 foam and slowly beat back the flames. Upon reaching the manual controls, the private detailed to the task started his work.

“We got a problem here,” he screamed above the din of firefighting efforts. “The keypad isn’t functioning!”

“Cover me, Master Chief,” Sheila said, picking her way through the path of twisted metal and slippery deck plating. Sliding in next to the young private, she rechecked his diagnosis. Damnit, this is what we get for not having a real shakedown cruise. “Okay, plan B. Get a crewman down here in a zero-G suit and we’ll manually open the space to vacuum.”

“Away zero-G damage control party, emergency!” the Master Chief said through his commlink.

“Acknowledged!” another voice called back that Sheila didn’t recognize.

“It’ll take them five to ten minutes to get here, XO.”

“Spread the team out and keep the flames beaten down,” Sheila said as she continued to try and get a response out of the keypad, even resorting to hitting the stubborn piece of technology.

A shout from halfway across the magazine attracted her attention. Glancing up, she saw a warhead fall off its protective rack as the metal alloys began to melt. My God, if one of those cooks off, it’ll destroy the ship from the inside!

“Master Chief! That rack of shells is melting! Get CO_2 on it now!” Sheila yelled.

The team was already on it; three soldiers lined up, spraying foam out of large hose nozzles. While successful, she realized that the racks on either side of the one that failed were bending forward—clearly about to fail.

Mathews lifted his head up from the underbelly of the console, his jaw dropping open. “Oh Jesus.”

One after another, warheads spilled off the racks, crashing to the deck. A feeling of panic was palpable as it threatened to engulf the team. “We’d better pull back,” Sheila said quietly.

“I got this, XO,” Mathews said, standing and taking off as fast as possible in the smoke and flame toward the manual venting controls; they were located next to a pair of doors that opened directly to space and were used to reload the magazine while in dock.

He almost made it.

A beam that crisscrossed the upper reaches of the space, responsible for holding up several sections of catwalk, broke free and crashed to the deck. Mathews was directly in its path and went down hard, crushed under its weight.

Time almost stopped for Sheila as she took in the scene and realized that her path to safety was now blocked by debris.

“XO, hang tight! We’ll get you out!” the old master chief yelled from the other side.

What she had to do was suddenly crystal clear to Sheila. “Negative, Master Chief. Pull the team out.”

“Say again, ma’am?”

“I said pull the team out. I’ll vent the space manually.”

“You don’t have a suit, ma’am.”

For more than a moment, Sheila considered allowing them to get her out. If I do that, I’ll cause incredible risk to the ship, not to mention all these soldiers. I can’t do it. “I know. No time. Now get these soldiers to safety and close the hatch behind you. That’s an order, Master Chief.”

Sheila couldn’t see the man for the flames and smoke, but the sadness in his voice was impossible to miss. “Yes, ma’am.”

“You heard the XO! Clear the space! Move it!”

The sounds of foam being sprayed echoed through the magazine, before the loud clank of the hatch closing left her alone. Sheila made her way across the fallen catwalk to the manual control panel. Ripping off the cover, she was confronted by a yellow lever marked “Danger.”

“Godspeed, XO,” the voice of the master chief said through her commlink.

“Thanks, Master Chief. I’ll see you on the flip side,” she said with false bravado.

Sheila pulled on the lever with all her might; it didn’t move. Picking up a fallen piece of pipe, she used it as a lever, wedging it into the area between the lever and the back of the panel. Slowly and almost imperceptibly at first, it began to move. Yellow warning lights flashed, and a klaxon sounded, indicating imminent exposure to vacuum. Of course I forgot my safety harness. She looked around wildly, groping through the smoke, looking for something—anything—to hold on to. As the doors creaked open, she flung herself on the fallen catwalk and held on as tightly as possible.

When the doors had gotten roughly halfway open, the forcefield that protected them snapped off. The effect was instantaneous. Smoke, fire, and the remaining air in the room raced out through the opening into the vacuum of space. Warheads, pieces of metal, Mathews’ body; all of it flashed by her. For a few moments, she thought that by a miracle, she might just survive. Then the catwalk, which had been wedged in tightly, ripped free. As the doors passed by and she entered the blackness, her mind still functioned.

I guess this is it. A tear rolled down her face, freezing instantly as her mind ran through the memories she wouldn’t be able make, the child she’d never have, the love of her life she would never make memories with. She hoped David would find the video she made for him just before taking the XO position on the Rabin. Maybe he’ll understand how much I care for and love him. In the seconds just before Sheila passed, she silently repeated the Lord’s Prayer to herself and hoped that there was truly something more for her in heaven.

34

While the Lion and her crew were busy battling the League capital ships, Amir and his wing had been making short work of the remaining League bombers and fighters. Though the losses from his squadrons were much higher than he would expect to see in a fight between nearly equal numbers of League and CDF craft, his wing had finally come out on top. Turning his attention back to the League’s capital ships, it was clear from the chatter on the command channel that the Lion had taken significant damage, and that she needed backup from her own small craft. Amir pulled up the integrated command operations picture in his HUD and studied the battlefield for a moment. Cueing his communications net, he spoke into the mic, “Tulleny, how are you doing?”

“Just peachy, command.” Tulleny’s clipped British accent came through Amir’s headset loud and clear.

“Form up the bombers; we’re going to hit the nearest League cruisers. They’re identified as Masters Three and Four in your HUD,” Amir said. “The Reapers will cover the bomber flight on its way in and engage point defense emplacements with our neutron cannons.”

“Understood, Reaper One. When we get back, you owe us all a drink.”

Amir smirked inside of his flight helmet. “You know I don’t drink.”

“There’s a first time for everything.”

* * *

While the battle raged outside of the ship between Amir’s wing and the League ships, a different battle was being fought within the engineering spaces of the Lion of Judah. Hanson struggled to get the forward shield generators back online and recharged with energy due to damage to the Lion’s energy conduits. As he was unable to route power to the proper capacitor, he slammed his fist into the console in frustration.

Dr. Hayworth took notice and laid a hand on Hanson’s shoulder. “Calm yourself, Major. This amounts to our first test of the reactor and power system in a real-world situation. Problems are bound to happen.”

“Doctor, to belabor stating the obvious, we’ve got to get power to the forward shield generator. I don’t see how to do that with the number of relays currently blown,” Hanson said.

“Simple, we reroute the power around the damaged relay using the junction control panels. They function much like large power supply breakers.”

“One problem; those compartments are flooded with high levels of radiation.”

Hayworth shrugged, incredible calm showing through. “Well, there’s a solution for that…sure, we might get some kind of strange cancer twenty years from now, but it beats spending our lives in a League gulag.”

“I’ll get a corpsman down here to administer treatment before we enter the lockers,” Hanson said, and punched up the medical bay on his wrist device. “Medical bay, this is Major Hanson. We need a corpsman with radiation exposure medication to the main engineering room ASAP.”

A second later, Hanson’s wrist device crackled. “Yes, sir, we’re sending someone down now, sir.”

Hanson tapped on his engineering tablet, pulling up a schematic of the ship. “We will need three more volunteers, Doctor. I’ll take the one closest, but we need to reroute four different relay points at the same time.”

Hayworth looked over Hanson’s shoulder for a moment. “Only two more. I’ll take this locker,” he said as he pointed to one of the relay lockers furthest out.

As the two men talked, a couple of contractors who had been listening in walked over. “Sir,” one of them began, addressing Hanson. “We helped configure those lockers last week. More than anyone here, we understand how they’re laid out. We’ll take the other two.”

“I can’t allow you to do that,” Hanson stated, looking at the name badge of the man who did the talking. “Tomilison. It’s too great of a risk for a civilian.”

Tomilison’s face turned to a grimace. “We can handle it, Major. Time is of the essence, and we know exactly what to do.”

Hanson looked at Hayworth, hoping for his approval. Hayworth’s demeanor, however, was inscrutable. “Okay. Take the other two lockers.”

As the two men nodded and began to walk off, Hanson called after them. “Godspeed!”

Hayworth cleared his throat. “I can’t stand that saying.”

“It doesn’t hurt you to hear it said, Doctor.”

“It annoys me.”

“Why don’t we focus on the job at hand and debate religion later?” Hanson replied with a forced smile. “Now let’s get this done.”

35

While Amir and his flight group were busy taking the fight to the League, David had the task of waiting until the shields were recharged, and the fire was out in the forward magazine. Of all the things I’m good at, waiting isn’t one of them. With nothing else to do but monitor the situation while Amir’s fighters struck at the League ships, he studied the tactical plot and made plans to reengage the League ships as soon as the Lion was able. He also pondered if Seville had an elite group of crews that he could call on, as the League ships currently opposing them appeared to be far from the poor opponents that he was used to fighting. It all pointed to an elaborate plot to drive a stake into the heart of the Terran Coalition. If the Ark Royal had engaged this battle group, it would have been destroyed, but at least with the Lion, we’ve got a chance to win.

Looking over at the empty XO chair, David prayed Sheila was having success fighting the fire. Ruth’s voice cut into his mental reverie. “Conn, TAO! Friendly fast movers have destroyed Master Four.”

David’s head snapped back to the tactical plot. “Acknowledged, TAO! What’s the status of the remaining contacts?”

“Our fighters are engaging Master Three currently, sir, though roughly twenty percent of them have been disabled or destroyed.”

David frowned; a twenty-percent loss rate among small craft was very high, though it stood to reason that the League fighters were also manned by elite pilots, so perhaps that rate of loss wasn’t as bad as it seemed. Hopefully, our search and rescue teams can save our pilots after this battle.

Taylor spoke up from his station. “Conn, communications. Damage control reports that the fire in the forward magazine is out, and the fire relight watch has been set.”

Inwardly, David breathed a heavy sigh of relief. Way to go, Sheila. That’s going to be worth a nice bottle of something. He turned his attention back toward the tactical plot. As he watched, one of the icons for the League cruisers winked out.

“Conn, TAO! Master Three has been destroyed,” Ruth said in near real time.

“Acknowledged, TAO,” David said, watching to see what the two remaining Rand class cruisers would do; they formed up near the League dreadnaught but made no attempt to move forward to engage the Lion. He believed that they were attempting to provide point defense covering fire for the Destruction.

David’s personal communication panel blinked, an incoming message being received from engineering. Punching a button to open the channel, Hanson’s voice was heard. “Conn, engineering. Forward shields are back online and will recharge over the next thirty seconds.”

He couldn’t quite make it out, but Hanson’s breathing sounded labored. “Understood. Overall power plant status?”

“We had radiation leakage through our coolant system and some of the power conduits that overloaded. Several of us, including myself, have been treated for radiation exposure. No causalities, sir.”

At the mention of radiation leakage, David’s mind went into overdrive at yet another problem. “Understood, Major. Cohen out.”

Glancing up from his console, he looked forward, past Ruth and Hammond. “Conn, TAO. Shield status?”

“Forward shields at eighty-five percent of charge, sir. We’re ready to engage the generator.”

“TAO, raise forward shields. Navigation, intercept course on Master One.” Pausing for a moment, he added, “Let’s end this.”

David looked toward Taylor. “Communications, get me Colonel Amir.”

“Aye aye, sir, Colonel Amir patched into your console.”

David spoke into his mic. “Colonel Amir, how’s your wing holding up?”

Amir’s distorted voice crackled through the speaker. “We’re hanging together, sir. About to take another run at the Leaguers.”

“Stand by on that, Amir. We’re going to engage the remaining League vessels. The TAO will vector you in as we begin our assault.”

“Understood, Colonel Cohen.”

“Lion out,” David said, clicking off the communications channel.

“Conn, navigation. Intercept course laid in for Master One, sir,” Hammond interjected.

David absorbed her report. “TAO, how many Hunter and Starbolt missiles do we have left in our forward missile launch array?”

“Twelve Hunters, one hundred Starbolts, sir,” Ruth said.

David pondered for a moment; with only twelve Hunters remaining, he would have to be judicious in their use. Starbolt missiles were basically fusion warheads with a rudimentary LIDAR-based tracking system. They were great weapons but were far more susceptible to jamming and point defense. Despite their shortcomings, he reasoned, they could fire the entire salvo off in one shot, overwhelming the point defense systems of the League’s flagship. First things first. Gotta take out those Rands and clear the battle space.

“Navigation, flank speed.”

“Conn, navigation. Flank speed, aye,” Hammond said crisply.

“TAO, firing point procedures, Master Two, magnetic-cannons and neutron beams.”

“Conn, TAO. Firing solutions set for Master Two.”

“Match bearings, shoot, all weapons,” David said as he glanced down at the tactical plot to see the effect of the weapons’ release. Magnetic cannon rounds thundered away from the Lion, the energy release nudging the ship slightly to the side, followed up by neutron beam strikes. The League Rand class cruiser took significant damage. With most of its consorts destroyed, it was unable to retreat behind the shields of the other vessels.

“Conn, TAO. Master Two has sustained significant damage,” Ruth confirmed before her LIDAR reading showed movement by the League ships. “Conn, TAO! Aspect change, Master One, Two, and Five. Sub-light engine light-off. They’re moving toward us at flank speed. Enemy vessels are firing, sir.”

David’s eyes were glued to the tactical plot; he knew that he had to defeat the League ships in detail. As plasma charges impacted against the Lion’s shields, the ship shuddered and rocked. “TAO, firing point procedures, Master Two. Target its engines and weapons with all forward magnetic cannons and neutron beams.”

“Conn, TAO. Firing solutions set for Master Two.”

“Match bearings, shoot, all weapons.”

More rounds shot out of the mag-cannons and raced toward the Rand class cruiser, slamming into its weakened shields. The first few were stopped, and their kinetic energy absorbed before the cruiser’s shield failed. The rest of the shells slammed into the vessel’s hull, causing multiple explosions. Ruth deftly followed up with neutron beams, which speared the stricken vessel from one end to the other, causing massive secondary explosions. A moment later, the League cruiser exploded into a large cloud of debris.

“Conn, TAO! Master Two destroyed, sir!” Ruth nearly shouted, the tone of her voice crossing from professional to almost gleeful.

David had noticed that Ruth really seemed to enjoy destroying League ships at times. He made a mental note to discuss that privately with her at some point before looking back down to his tactical plot. “Good shooting, TAO,” he said, dialing it down a bit. “TAO, firing point procedures, Master Five. Magnetic cannon and neutron beams.”

David realized that this was becoming something of a rote engagement; the Lion clearly held the edge against smaller League ships. She’d taken a beating, though. His status display showed that the Lion’s forward shields dipped below sixty percent of their energy rating. Doing some quick math, he estimated they only had five or six more salvos before the forward shields collapsed again. The last Rand had to be neutralized quickly, and he ran multiple scenarios through his head on methods to disable the Destruction without a protracted fight.

“Conn, TAO, firing solutions set for Master Five.”

“TAO, match bearings, shoot, all weapons!” David said almost automatically, his battle rhythm kicking in.

As the Lion stabbed at the remaining Rand with its weapons suite, incoming fire from both League ships impacted the Lion’s shield grid. Sectors overloaded and failed, leaving other parts of the grid to compensate for their loss. Soon, the overworked shield generator would fail again and leave the Lion defenseless along her forward arc.

“Conn, TAO. Aspect change, Master Five. Master Five has taken position out of line of fire behind Master One.”

“Acknowledged, TAO,” David said, looking back to his plot. So this is it. All or nothing, and success depended on his next course of action. “Communications, get me Colonel Amir.”

“Colonel Amir is now linked into your comm panel, sir,” Taylor said after a moment.

“Go ahead, Colonel Cohen,” Amir’s voice crackled.

David spoke into the microphone on his chair. “Amir, do you have enough anti-ship munitions left to effectively engage the point defense systems on the Destruction?”

There was a pause on the line before Amir’s voice came through. “Many of my bombers are Winchester, sir.” Winchester was the code phrase for “out of ammunition.” “But we have enough to degrade the Destruction’s point defense emplacements on one arc.”

David looked to Ruth. “Okay, this is what we’re going to do, everyone. We only get one shot, so pay attention. Navigation, lay in a course that takes us to point-blank range of Master One, then takes us on a parallel course to her. TAO, we’re going to engage Master One with our magnetic cannons and our neutron beams as we approach, fire a final broadside into her at point-blank range, and then we’re going to launch every last missile we have in our forward VRLS array into that ship. While we’re doing this, Colonel Amir and his wing will engage Master One and destroy as many point defense emplacements as possible, to ensure enough of our missiles get through to knock Master One out. Everyone clear on their part?”

There were nods from Ruth and Hammond; Amir’s voice came through loud and clear. “Yes, sir!”

“Colonel Amir, proceed to attack Master One’s point defense emplacements.”

“Aye, sir. Amir out.”

“Conn, navigation, course laid in as ordered,” Hammond called out.

“Navigation, engage full speed.”

“Engaged, sir.”

The inertial force of the massive ship moving forward could be felt throughout the vessel; even with inertial dampening fields, David was still pressed back into his seat just a bit. “TAO, firing point procedures, Master One, magnetic cannons and neutron beams.”

“Conn, TAO, firing solutions set.”

“TAO, match bearings, shoot all weapons,” David ordered, looking down at his tactical plot, showing the remaining fighters from Amir’s wing engaging Master One. Over the next few minutes, multiple salvos were exchanged between the Lion and the Destruction. While Amir’s fighters took a beating, they succeeded at knocking down many point defense emplacements along the side of the Destruction that David planned to assault with one hundred and twelve missiles.

“TAO, firing point procedures, Master One, magnetic cannons, neutron beams, and all remaining missiles in our forward missile cell.”

“Conn, TAO. Firing solutions set.”

David looked toward Hammond as more enemy fire slammed into the Lion. “Navigation, ETA to parallel course on Master One?”

“Thirty seconds, sir.”

Almost as soon as Hammond finished her report, Ruth broke in, “Conn, TAO! Forward shield has collapsed, sir!”

David confirmed the report almost immediately on his viewer. Recalling a line from military history in which a captain of a ship long ago said, “Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead,” he pressed on. “Navigation, stay on course. Flank speed. TAO, lock all magnetic cannons into position for a full broadside.”

The Destruction continued to pound the Lion; the ship shuddered with each hit, the energy from the impacts translating into shudders and shakes. Several consoles on the bridge suffered from blown fuses and an overload blew out a power junction over the CIC. Through it all, David stared forward, his eyes going between the view of the outside, and his tactical plot. As the ship lined up for what he hoped was the final attack, he gave the order to fire. “TAO, shoot, all weapons, Master One!”

One hundred and twelve missiles thundered out of the Lion’s forward launch array, along with a salvo of magnetic cannon shells. The shells hit first at close range, severely weakening the shields of the Destruction. It took the missiles a few seconds to lock on to the Destruction, after which they plunged into short terminal burns, exploding across the surface of the massive ship. The degraded point defense systems could only stop a few of the multi-megaton yield fusion weapons, which continued to rain down on the dreadnought. Eventually, the Destruction’s shields failed, and the warheads exploded on its armor and superstructure. Large chunks of the enemy vessel’s armor blasted off into space under the might of the torrent of fire; adding to the maelstrom was neutron beam fire from the Lion of Judah, slicing through the weakened hull of the Destruction. The onslaught was simply too great; secondary explosions began to occur throughout the Destruction, and without warning, its engineering section violently blew apart, crippling what was left of the starship.

* * *

“Our stern has exploded, Admiral!” the panicked voice of the tactical officer called out. The bridge rocked furiously, throwing crewmembers out of their harnesses. Fires started as massive power overloads coursed through the energy conduits of the mighty vessel, shorting on consoles and causing secondary explosions.

“Engineering, report!” Seville shouted.

“Confirmed, Admiral! Our stern, along with the reactor cores, suffered a catastrophic breach!”

No… so close. How could these religious fanatics defeat my finest ships? “Can we move?” Seville asked.

“Admiral… we don’t have any engines or reactors to power them. The Destruction is crippled,” an engineering sub-station officer said.

“We should consider abandoning ship,” Strappi said into Seville’s ear, just quiet enough not to be heard outside of a few feet.

As Seville pondered the idea, another wave of explosions rocked the bridge, causing pieces of the overhead to collapse. Collapsed metal filled the bridge, some pieces impaling members of the crew, others destroying consoles. Smoke spread out, covering the entire space in a haze. Before he could react, debris fell directly on top of his chair; searing pain swept through his body and he screamed at the top of his lungs.

Then unconsciousness took him into its merciful embrace.

* * *

The bridge crew of the Lion watched it unfold on their monitors as Ruth reported it. Her voice went up an octave. “Conn, TAO! Master One neutralized, sir!”

Shouts rang out from across the bridge, but the master chief cut that off quickly. “As you were! Maintain proper bridge protocol!”

David stood up from his chair and walked over to Ruth’s station. “Is any part of Master One combat capable, TAO?”

Ruth shook her head. “Negative, sir. I’m showing lifepod launches now. Master Five is picking them up…Master Five has powered down its weapons systems and has charged its Lawrence drive.” She glanced up at David. “Would you like to engage, sir?”

David paused for a moment. The League had killed so many; destroyed the lives of millions of people throughout the Terran Coalition, not to mention its own citizens. I’m no better than them if I kill fleeing people in lifepods. Enough death for one day. Looking down at Ruth, he said, “Negative, TAO. Do not engage. We’ll let them run back to Earth and spread word of our new combat capability.”

David half expected Ruth to argue with him on the bridge; the fire shone in her eyes, but decorum prevailed. “Aye, sir. Standing down,” she said, frustration coming through in her voice.

David walked back to his chair and sat down. “Communications, signal the air boss to launch search and rescue. Let’s get our pilots home.”

* * *

Seville slowly became aware of his surroundings as consciousness returned. The walls of the passageway he was in slowly moved, and he realized someone was dragging him.

“Where am I?”

“Deck three, Admiral,” Strappi said, panting.

Seville fell to the deck, roughly, and the political officer’s face appeared in his line of sight. “I gave the order to abandon ship. The Destruction is lost, as was the battle.”

“My crew?”

“The remaining cruiser is picking up as many lifepods as it can. They’re waiting until we can get you on board and the Terrans have ceased firing. We must hurry, Admiral.”

“I’m not going to be of much use. I can’t feel my legs,” Seville said, his voice weak and hoarse.

“Just lie still. We’re only a hundred meters from safety.”

All he’d have to do is leave me to die. I would have left him, just like I left his counterpart twenty-seven years ago. Why would he help me now?

Strappi picked him up again by the shoulders and dragged Seville down the corridor. It seemed like hours before they reached a bank of escape pods, and he was roughly shoved into the nearest open hatch. As the pod hurtled toward the lone League vessel that remained intact, he pondered what had gone wrong.

I don’t care what it takes or how long it takes me. I will kill David Cohen and destroy the Terran Coalition. Pain spread across every fiber of his being, while his mind focused on one thing—and one thing only—revenge.

36

Calvin looked down at the ticking clock; it was almost like something out of a goofy holodrama, each second one closer to their last. “Gunny, can you disarm this thing?” he asked Uzun before taking up a defensive position in front of the console.

Uzun immediately pulled out a small tablet and began interfacing it with the League machine. After thirty seconds, he looked up at Calvin. “Colonel, without the command codes for this ship, I can’t disarm the self-destruct from here.”

Calvin whirled around. “Gunny, I need options. Right now, because leaving my brothers and sisters behind is not an option.”

“I can disarm it from inside the reactor core.”

Inside his helmet, Calvin made a face. “Gunny, isn’t an energized reactor core highly radioactive, not to mention incredibly hot?”

“This ship’s reactor was SCRAMED, so it’s cooled off enough that I can walk around it inside of my suit.”

“Okay, but the radiation hasn’t just disappeared. You can’t go in there,” Calvin retorted.

Uzun grabbed Calvin’s battle armor and pulled his helmet in so they were touching, “Colonel, listen to me. I have to disarm the self-destruct on this ship or we’re all dead. There’s still enough time for the boarding teams to get out, but not to evacuate the POWs. I’m not leaving a brother or sister in arms behind, just as much as you wouldn’t. The only way for me to stop that self-destruct is to enter the reactor core.”

Calvin shook his head inside his helmet, “No can do, Gunny. You enter that core and you’re dead. There’s got to be another way.”

Uzun shook Calvin’s battle armor. “I will have forty-five seconds once I get inside. That’s enough to cut the required circuits so that the self-destruct charges won’t fire. There is no other way. Now get the hell out of my way.”

Calvin knew Uzun was right. He would do it himself, but he didn’t know what to do inside the core. “Okay, Gunny. When you get to heaven’s shores, you make sure they’re properly guarded by Marines, you hear me?” he said, trying his utmost to push the pain out of his voice as he stepped aside.

Uzun pushed forward, entering the heavily lead-lined airlock that led to the reactor core. “I will do my best, Colonel.” As the airlock cycled, he continued, “Colonel, it was an honor to serve with you.”

Calvin watched from the window on the other side of the airlock. “Likewise, Gunny. Godspeed.”

Uzun snapped off a final salute in Calvin’s direction as the inner airlock door opened and he dashed through. The door automatically closed behind him.

Calvin stood in front of the airlock that led to the reactor, staring at the countdown on the heads-up display inside of his battle armor. After forty seconds, and with fifteen seconds to go on the countdown, he heard Uzun’s scratchy voice within his communications set.

“Colonel... it’s done. I disconnected more than enough circuits to prevent a self-destruct.”

Calvin could hear Uzun coughing and gasping for breath. “Gunny, you hang tight. I’m going to get help and we’re going to get you out of there,” he said, knowing as he uttered the words they were a lie.

“You’re a good liar, Colonel. I only have one request. Tell my wife and my sons that I love them very much and that I hope to see them again in paradise.”

Calvin almost told Uzun that he’d tell them himself but decided against it. There was no way the man was walking out of that core alive. “You have my word, Gunny,” Calvin said, choking down his own emotion.

“Thank you, Colonel.”

“You hang in there, Uzun. That’s an order, Marine.”

There’s gotta be a way for me to get in here. Calvin ran the gauntlet of his suit across the airlock opening, scanning its interior. The radiation was off the charts. I go in there, I’m dead too. Nothing I can do to help him now. He pulled up the lifesign indicator for Uzun’s suit and found it had flatlined. “Damn it.”

Calvin looked up to see Cabello and two other Marines walking toward him. Cabello approached, brought himself to attention, and saluted Calvin. “Colonel, mission accomplished. This ship is secured.”

Calvin quickly returned the salute. “Good work, Major. Casualties? Status of the POWs?”

“Six Marines KIA, sir. Almost everyone else on the breach team was wounded, including me. Minor injuries for the most part. A lot of bruised egos,” Cabello answered with something of a smirk. “POWs are secured, but they’re not in great shape. We need to get doctors up here, and they’ll need some food. Still, this is a good day. We saved a lot of our own.”

Calvin looked over his shoulder at the airlock door. “It still cost us a lot. Uzun sacrificed himself to stop the self-destruct.” Calvin turned back to Cabello. “There are days I get really sick of this war, Major. I’m sick of seeing good men and women willingly sacrifice themselves just to save another. It’s a damn waste if you ask me. All for some bunch of communist assholes that can’t be content with controlling hundreds of planets.” He was silent for a moment as his eyes swept the engineering space. “Get support up here and start rounding up the prisoners.”

“Yes, sir!” Cabello said crisply before turning away to carry out his orders.

Calvin stared at the airlock door, thinking about Uzun’s sacrifice, the sacrifice of so many of the men and women under his command over the years, his own sacrifices, and those of his wife. While saving the POWs was a victory, it seemed like a bitter defeat to have been so close to peace, only to find out it was all a lie.

37

In the intervening minutes, the last two League ships jumped out, taking with them as many lifepods as they could carry. Their exit was so hasty that the League ships left behind many pods, which the Lion’s search and rescue teams collected, along with ejected pilots.

David observed that the mood on the bridge of the Lion of Judah was one of near jubilation as he stared at the tactical view, watching as Colonel Amir’s wing returned. He shared their mood, knowing that the decisive defeat of the League battle group could mark a turning point in the war. If nothing else, it would provide a much-needed boost to the flagging morale of a war-weary nation. What better way to do that than by destroying the flagship of the League fleet and hopefully killing its leader?

He chastised himself for hoping Seville dead. Regardless of the man’s crimes, David knew it wasn’t his place to judge. That was God’s job, but a part of him sorely hoped that one of the shells fired into the side of the Destruction had arranged a face-to-face meeting today. Where’s Sheila? She needs to get back up here to share in the celebration for a job well done.

Taylor interrupted David’s thoughts. “Conn, communications. I have Colonel Demood for you, sir, on the video link.”

“Put him through to my viewer, Lieutenant.”

A moment later, Calvin’s face appeared on David’s monitor, blood streaked and his armor blackened. “Sir, can you hear me?” Calvin asked.

“Loud and clear, Colonel.”

“Sir, we’ve secured the transport and rescued at least three thousand POWs. Mission accomplished,” Calvin said with a sense of pride.

David sat back in his chair. “That…is incredible news, Colonel. Any causalities on our side?”

“Light, sir. I’ve got eighteen Marines KIA, twenty-three seriously wounded, and I think almost all of us got hit by something.” Calvin cracked a smile as he finished the last line. “We gave a hell of a lot better than we took, sir.”

David nodded into his viewer. “Good job, Demood. We’ll be back shortly.”

“One other thing, Colonel. We lost a contractor who volunteered for the mission. One of the finest displays of bravery I’ve ever seen. Without him, none of us would be here. You make sure he’s remembered.”

“You have my word. No one will be forgotten today,” David said, raising an eyebrow at the mention of a contractor going into combat. He decided not to inquire about the clearly broken regulations.

“Thank you, sir. Demood out.”

David looked around the bridge, standing to acknowledge the celebration with his crew. “Good job, everyone,” he said in a loud voice to no one in particular before putting his hands together as he started to clap.

The result was infectious; officers, enlisted personnel, and senior NCOs all clapped and cheered. Then, as quickly as it started, the release of emotion was done; the bridge crew went back to their duties, and David stared forward, proud of them for what they accomplished.

“Sir,” Taylor said with an unusual tenor to his voice. “I have a message for you from engineering. I think you may want to take this in private.”

David looked to Taylor quizzically. “I’m sure I can hear anything from engineering on the bridge, Lieutenant. What’s going on?”

Taylor swallowed hard. “Sir, Major Thompson was in the forward magazine when it was exposed to vacuum. She was sucked into space, sir.”

Even as Taylor said the words, David tried to rationalize it away. “Our emergency pressure suits only have six hours of air. We need to get search and rescue into space immediately. Contact Colonel Amir on a priority channel, Lieutenant.”

Taylor eye’s locked down. “I’m sorry, sir. She wasn’t wearing a suit, sir.” Taylor looked back up. “There is no way she could have survived, sir.”

David was stunned and at a loss for words for a few moments. His mind ran through any scenario in which Sheila could have survived…but found none. As it started to sink in, his emotions began to fail him. Everything began to fail him. The room spun, and all he could think of was that it couldn’t be true, that it had to be a bad dream, it couldn’t be real. When the spinning stopped and Taylor was still staring at him, the enormity of losing his best friend hit him like a ton of bricks.

“I see,” he said slowly. “Deploy search and rescue. We owe it to her to find her body to bring home for a proper Christian burial.” He stumbled over the final words, not wanting them to be true. His voice broke, and he almost started sobbing right there on the bridge.

“Yes, sir, immediately, sir.”

Ruth and Hammond looked at each other from their respective consoles, looks of concern appearing on their faces.

“Lieutenant Goldberg, you have the conn,” David said slowly. He stood up from his chair and stepped to one side.

Ruth stood up. “This is Lieutenant Goldberg, I have the conn,” she said formally, sitting down in the command chair.

“I will be in my cabin,” David said with great difficulty. His objective now was just to get off the bridge without breaking down in tears in front of his crew.

As he walked toward the back of the bridge where the exit was, each step became harder. Every passing second seemed like an eternity. His steps slowed and tears ran down his face. Master Chief Tinetariro saw it and walked to his side.

“Let me help you, sir,” she said under her breath, not wishing to draw attention to the obvious pain and anguish. Taking David’s arm, she guided him into the gangway behind the bridge. After the door to the bridge closed behind them, he looked at her. “Thank you, Master Chief,” he managed to get out between sobs. “I need to be alone.”

“I know what you’re going through, sir. I’ve had to lay too many friends into the dirt. If you want to talk, I’m here,” Tinetariro said.

“I’ve lost more friends than I can count…but this…” David swallowed hard. “This is just different. Not her…”

“If I die in cold space, send my body home to rest, fold my hands across my chest, and tell my mom I did my best,” Tinetariro said, repeating an often-heard CDF marching cadence.

Slowly growing numb, David halfway smiled despite the tears rolling down his face. “Thank you, Master Chief,” he said sadly. “Carry on.”

Tinetariro nodded silently and watched as David made his way down the passageway.

38

Several hours later, Ruth still held the conn. Causality reports were coming in, and the rescue teams combing the wreckage of the League ships had finished their work. Of the twenty-nine fighters and bombers that had been lost, search and rescue had found eighteen of the pilots and brought them home safe. They’d lost another nine personnel onboard the Lion, plus the Marines that had died storming the transport. After entering all the names into the ship’s log, Ruth transmitted the list and the actions of the day to the CDF Command.

Dozens of ships’ worth of reinforcements had arrived, led by the CSV Ark Royal and her battle group. General Barton, however, was conspicuously absent. Ruth found herself hoping he had been relieved of command. I hate defeatists. Hanging over the bridge, however, was the death of Sheila. Ruth had grown to count her as a close friend in the seven months they had served together, but she knew that Sheila meant far more to David. She understood that they’d known each other since boot camp, nearly seventeen years ago. After his exit from the bridge, all of them knew that David’s spirit was crushed. Ruth had prayed for him and dearly hoped he would walk back through the doors at the aft of the bridge to retake command. At least the rescue teams had located her body; it could be given the proper burial that Sheila deserved.

“Conn, communications. I have General MacIntosh requesting a video link,” Taylor said.

“Communications, route it to the command viewer.”

A few seconds later, General MacIntosh’s face appeared on the viewer. His features curled with surprise as he realized Ruth was in the CO’s chair. “Lieutenant Goldberg,” he said without preamble. “I didn’t expect to see you holding the conn. Where is Colonel Cohen and Major Thompson?”

Ruth swallowed. “Sir, have you received the reports we passed back through the Ark Royal?”

MacIntosh stared at her in a way that betrayed his impatience. “Nothing detailed, Lieutenant. All I know is that we won. Now answer my question.”

“Colonel Cohen is in his quarters, sir. Major Thompson was killed in action.”

MacIntosh’s mouth dropped open and hung there for a moment. “I see. I’m sorry, Lieutenant. What’s the status of the rest of the crew and the ship?”

“We had light causalities, sir, mostly among our pilots and the Marines. The ship took some armor and hull damage, but we’re fine. Nothing a couple of days docked at Canaan station can’t fix,” Ruth said, focusing her mind elsewhere to avoid any display of emotion.

“That is good to hear, Lieutenant. When are you jumping back to Canaan?”

“As soon as we recover the last of our search and rescue craft, General.”

“Very well. Please pass on my condolences to Colonel Cohen. I’ll be waiting for you all at the Canaan station. Godspeed, MacIntosh out.”

The viewer shut off before Ruth could respond. She then turned to Taylor. “Communications, signal our search and rescue unit. Please confirm they are returning to the ship and have completed their work.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Taylor said. A few moments later, he spoke again.. “They should be back onboard within thirty minutes, conn.”

“Navigation, make ready to jump back to Canaan as soon as they’re fully onboard.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

The time seemed to pass by quickly for Ruth as the final wave of search and rescue craft were onboard back into the hangar bays of the Lion. Ruth reviewed the logs from the weapons and defensive systems during the engagement for the fiftieth time. In the coming days, she was certain that she could get better performance out of the systems of the ship now that they had concrete data on how the new technology performed in actual combat.

Once the air boss had confirmed that the hangar was secured, Ruth said, “Navigation, are we ready to jump back to Canaan?”

“Charged and ready to engage, ma’am.”

“Navigation, engage Lawrence drive.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

Hammond triggered the Lion’s massive Lawrence drive, opening an artificial wormhole directly in front of the mighty ship. Flying through the wormhole under sub-light propulsion, the Lion crossed several lightyears of space in the blink of an eye.

“Conn, navigation. Wormhole transit complete; emergence within hundred kilometers of projected.”

“Navigation, put us into orbit around Canaan. Communications, signal Canaan space control and request a berth at Canaan’s main shipyard,” Ruth ordered.

As Ruth’s commands were acknowledged and she gave the order to dock at Canaan’s main shipyard, the third watch tactical officer that currently manned the tactical station turned back to look at her. “Ma’am, I think you might want to see this.”

Ruth raised an eyebrow at the young man, who was clearly departing from bridge protocol. “What is it, Lieutenant?”

“It would be best if I put up on our main viewer.”

“Very well.”

A moment later, the holoscreen came alive with images of the exterior ship. There were dozens of ships, mostly CDF, some national state militaries of the CDF, and even civilian yachts lining the route the Lion would take to her berth. As the Lion passed, each ship fired a tracer round from their magnetic-cannons or made a visual display of some kind.

The bridge crew watched in fascination as the multi-colored salute went on and on. “Communications, transmit a picture of a broom to the fleet,” Ruth said.

Taylor looked at her quizzically. “Ma’am?”

Ruth smiled. “Something Colonel Cohen did after a successful patrol on the Rabin. It’s the signal for a clean sweep; a completely successful mission where we swept the enemy out of space.”

Taylor broke into a grin, as did a number of the personnel on the bridge. “Yes, ma’am!”

For the next hour, the bridge crew maneuvered the Lion into her berth at Canaan station, after which Ruth informed David that the ship was docked. He was still declining voice communications and remained in his cabin. She privately worried for him, but she knew that he needed space and time to grieve.

* * *

After the Lion was fully docked and secured, David received several messages from Ruth on his personal tablet, asking him to come to the bridge. Her final plea asked him to join the senior officers in the cargo bay to perform the ceremony to offload the fallen soldiers, as their caskets were the first to leave the ship. Staring ahead in a stupor, he ignored her messages. In his mind, he asked over and over, Why? On a logical level, David couldn’t quite wrap his mind around why this one death had completely wiped him out emotionally. Death was something that knocked on the door every day; it was as Seville said, a constant companion to a soldier. But this…this was different. The door chime went off, interrupting his thoughts. After a few seconds of ignoring it, the chime went off again, then again.

“Open!” he finally spat.

The hatch to his cabin unlocked and Calvin strode in. “Colonel.”

“Colonel Demood.”

“David,” Demood began, “I know what this is like. I’ve led Marines into battle for many years. I’ve seen the horrors of war and I’ve had men die in my arms.”

David looked up. “Sheila was more than just someone under my command. She was my best friend in this entire messed-up galaxy.”

Calvin made his way over to the couch David sat on and sat down beside him without preamble. “Maybe I haven’t had my best friend die under my command, I’ll give you that. Look, Cohen, you can sit down here with the lights off and allow yourself to be swallowed up by the pain. Or you can stand up, walk out of here with me, and go show Major Thompson and the rest of those who died today on this ship the honor that they deserve.”

Calvin’s words stung; his first reaction was to clap back, but he realized almost instantly that the older Marine was right. Sitting here and feeling sorry for himself was unbecoming, and if nothing else, it insulted Sheila’s memory. After a period of silence, he responded, “You’re right, Demood. Give me a few minutes, and I’ll join you in the hangar.”

Calvin put his hand on David’s shoulder. “I’ll see you shortly, Colonel,” he said.

David watched Calvin walk out of his stateroom, and then forced himself to get up. He checked his uniform to ensure it was all properly fitted and within regulation, and then he made his way to the hangar deck onboard the Lion. During his fifteen-minute walk, he passed by hundreds of crewmen and women, officers and enlisted. All of them were seemingly energized, and morale was high. Considering for a moment that most didn’t know the XO was dead, nor did any of them have the same kind of connection, he knew their reactions were normal, but it still made David mad.

The more he thought about the entire situation, the angrier he got. Reflecting back on his decision not to fire on the escape pods detaching from the Destruction, nor to fire on the remaining League cruiser, right then, David realized that if he could go back and change his decision, he’d have killed every last one of them.

As he strode into the hangar bay, there were several dozen caskets arrayed across the floor near the giant space doors. An honor guard had been assembled, and the onboard band was present. David walked down the four rows of caskets, each adorned with the flag of the Terran Coalition; wondering which one was Sheila’s, he called out to the nearest enlisted crewman, “Corporal! Which one of these contains the remains of Major Thompson?”

A ruddy-faced young man walked closer to David. “Sir! Please follow me, sir.”

After a short walk, David stood in front of a casket as the corporal gestured to it. “Major Thompson’s remains are in this one, sir.”

David glanced at the young man, still angry and sullen. “Thank you, Corporal.”

Looking around the room, he saw a single casket off to the side, its top uncovered. Furrowing his brow, David shifted his gaze back to the young corporal. “Why does that casket lack a flag?” he asked.

“Sir, that casket contains the remains of a contractor, sir. Regulations state that—”

“Which contractor, Corporal?”

“Hadi Uzun, sir.”

“The man that died on the transport?” David asked, having seen Calvin’s after-action report.

“Yes, sir.”

“The one man that kept thousands of POWs from being killed?” David said, his voice growing louder and his face turning red with anger.

“Sir, it is against regulations—”

“Do not quote regulations to me, Corporal!” David shouted. He was so close to losing control that his hand felt for the sidearm he’d been carrying earlier on his leg.

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“You will retrieve a flag and dress his casket with the proper respect it deserves. Are we clear, Corporal?”

“Crystal, sir!”

“Why are you still standing in front of me? Get moving, Corporal!”

The young man scurried off as fast as he could. Calvin and Tinetariro, who had been watching the exchange, made their way over to David.

Calvin was the first to speak. “Are you okay, sir?”

David turned toward him. “I’ll be okay if that’s what you’re asking, Colonel.”

“You seemed a little wound up there, sir.”

“The least we can do is honor their sacrifices.”

“Of course.”

Standing there, David knew he had overacted and torn a bloody strip out of a solider that was just doing his job and trying to do that job within the rules. Right now, though, that just didn’t matter. Going between hurt and anger, he was looking for targets, and a regulation that seemed to not fit the situation was a great starting point.

Calvin and Tinetariro exchanged glances with each other before Tinetariro spoke. “Sir, I must remind you that Corporal Lewis was simply following regulations and orders, sir.”

David’s eye lit up with anger as he considered what the master chief said. Control had begun to return, though, and he bit off the angry comment that leapt to mind. “Of course, Master Chief.”

David returned his gaze to Sheila’s casket. More than anything, he just wanted to see her one last time. It should be me there. I should have gone to fight the fire and died, not her. I deserve to die for all the pain and suffering I’ve caused through my actions. Not her. Forcing himself not to tear up, he turned and walked away from the rest of the people in the hangar, staring out of the force shield protected area where fighters and bombers were launched from.

David wasn’t sure how long he stared out into space considering the events of the last week. At some point, he was snapped out of his thoughts by a voice speaking to him from behind.

“Colonel,” Kenneth Lowe, the program manager for the contractors said quietly.

It took David a few moments to process Kenneth’s presence and turn toward him. “Kenneth.”

“Sir, I wanted to thank you for the respect extended to Hadi. He was a good man. One of my best field electronics engineers.”

“He deserved nothing less.”

“It’s been an honor, sir.”

David turned his head to see Kenneth extending his hand. He reached forward and shook it firmly. “That feels like goodbye.”

“You’re not the only one that has a knack for breaking regulations, sir,” Kenneth said with some level of levity.

“You weren’t supposed to stay on the ship after we put into space?”

“No, sir. I was specifically ordered not to do that.”

“If you hadn’t, we wouldn’t be here. Only God knows how bad it would have been.”

“That doesn’t matter to SSI leadership. I’ve been given a choice between termination or resigning.”

David turned around fully to face Kenneth. “You’ve got to be shitting me,” he said, the anger rising in him again.

“No, sir. Don’t worry, you’re in good hands with my deputy. He and the rest of the team will see you through.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Kenneth. How are you going to fight it?”

“Honestly, sir, I can’t, in good conscience, continue to work for the man I report to. I’m going to resign… that’ll make it easier to find another job. Perhaps someone will want to hire me. I’ll be back on CDF special programs in a week.” At the sight of a frown from David, Kenneth pressed on. “It’s okay, sir. The only thing that counts is the mission.”

David reflected on the harsh reality that, at times, regardless if what you did was the right thing, if you ran afoul of the system, the system would grind you down. “Good luck out there,” he finally replied before extending his hand one more time. The two men shook hands firmly before Kenneth departed without further words, leaving David to his mental anguish.

After what seemed like an eternity spending time alone with his thoughts, the space station’s honor guard was ready for the ceremonial removal of the fallen. Joined by an honor guard from the Marines onboard the Lion, as well as a couple of musicians from the band, they all assembled just outside of the hangar bay on what was referred to as the docking slip. The musicians began to play the hymn “Amazing Grace” as the pallbearers carried the caskets from the ship down the gangway to the awaiting vehicles for transport. It was, in many ways, a repeat of the ceremony David had participated in just two weeks prior on the Rabin. David’s hand snapped to his brow in salute as each casket was carried down the gangway. The biggest difference between that dark day two weeks ago and today was that Sheila was not at his side. Instead, she was in one of the caskets. His heart broke in a way he had never felt as they carried her away.

Another difference was that some of the families of those lost had been able to make it to the docking slip along with members of the press. David bristled at the intrusion of the media; in his mind, they had no place in this, the most solemn of rituals performed by the CDF. As each casket was unloaded, one of the members of the honor guard announced the name of the fallen solider. If the family was present, David could hear their sobs as the casket came forward.

Fighting to keep himself stoic in the face of the immense anguish he felt, David heard Hadi Uzun’s name announced. As the flag-draped casket that contained Uzun’s remains was taken down the gangway, a woman, whom David immediately assumed was his wife, tore across the rope line that separated the onlookers from the ceremony. She rushed the casket, nearly toppling it from the anti-grav sled it had been placed on, crying in agony at the top of her lungs and holding on to the casket containing her husband as it moved down the gangway.

A number of members of the honor guard exchanged glances, but no one wanted to be the one to pry her away from the casket. As the ranking officer, David knew that task belonged to him. Walking across the gangway, he made his way over to the woman and put his hand on her shoulder. She turned to look at him, despair, grief, and pure sadness etched into her face.

“Why?” she said between sobs. “He’d been medically discharged. He wasn’t even in the military,” she said in heavily accented English.

“Mrs. Uzun?” David asked, and she nodded. “I didn’t have the privilege to know your husband. I know he joined the rescue mission for the POWs because he felt he was the only man that could do the job. His sacrifice saved the lives of thousands. It’s a small comfort, but you should be proud of him,” David managed to get out in a level voice.

She took her hands off the casket and stood up tall. “That sounds like him. Always trying to right a wrong,” she stated as tears streamed down her face.

David stepped forward and embraced her, then guided her back to the area reserved for the families. They stood there together as the rest of the caskets were removed. Sheila’s was the last to go due to her position as the XO. As soon as her name was announced, he stiffened. Try as he might, he could not hold in his emotions. He cried openly as her casket proceeded down the gangway.

Uzun’s wife took note and put her hand on his. “A friend?” she asked.

“My best friend in this crazy universe that we live in,” David replied.

“I am so sorry.”

“I hate this war,” David said.

“Uzun used to say that it was better to die on our feet than live on our knees.”

David turned his head. “Wise words.”

A few moments later, Sheila’s casket was loaded into a vehicle and left the docking slip. The honor guard and those assembled began to depart. After saying his goodbyes to Uzun’s wife, he stood on the dock for a long time. Eventually, General MacIntosh roused David out of his contemplation. He briefed the general on the battle and what happened with the League peace delegation. Seeing that David’s heart was crushed, MacIntosh let him go and decided to resume the conversation later, but not before telling him that he and the command staff of the Lion were to be present the next day at a joint press conference with the President of the Terran Coalition and Chief Minister of the Saurian Empire.

Several hours later, David returned to his stateroom on the Lion. As he walked through the door, he tugged off his uniform sweater. After adjusting the lights to his liking, he sat on the couch for a while. David still could not make sense of the events in recent days; he was certainly not at peace with the fact that he would never see Sheila again. Trying to focus on a problem he could solve to take his mind off the pain, he decided to track down someone higher up the chain at SSI and talk to them about Kenneth and his team. Pulling out his tablet, he made a video call to SSI’s main headquarters. After the link connected, a smiling young woman’s face filled this screen. “Strathclyde Shipboard Integrators, how may I help you?” David attempted a smile in return.

“Hello. I’d like to speak with Margaret Lee, please.”

“I’m sorry, but Ms. Lee is in a meeting.”

“It’s very important I speak with her, Miss.”

“Who may I ask is calling?”

“Colonel David Cohen, Commanding Officer, CSV Lion of Judah.”

There was a pregnant pause from the young woman as she processed David’s rank, name, and the name of his ship. “The Colonel Cohen?” she asked in surprise.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Wait one moment, please. I’ll get her for you straight away.”

The screen switched to the SSI logo with an infomercial playing in the background. Pondering for a moment how joyless everything seemed, he realized that what just happened should be funny to him, but he could only barely muster a small smile. “What’s wrong with me?” he asked absentmindedly, even though no one was there to hear him.

A moment later, Margaret Lee appeared on the tablet. “Colonel Cohen, such a pleasure to speak to you today. What can I do for you, sir?”

“Thank you for taking my call, Ms. Lee. I’m reaching out to you to discuss your contracting team led by Kenneth Lowe.”

“Is there a problem, Colonel?” Margaret asked, her facial expression betraying concern.

“Not per se, at least, not at this time. I would like to let you know that the actions of your team, and especially those of its leadership, including Mr. Lowe, as far as I’m concerned, were in the finest traditions of the Coalition Defense Force.”

“I see,” she forced out. “Were you aware of Mr. Lowe’s plan to stay onboard the ship when it put into space?”

“I was. In discussions with him, we determined that his team staying onboard was the only way to get the ship operational in case all of its functions were needed. Which…they were.”

“I wasn’t aware of that, Colonel. I thought it was simply a decision by Mr. Lowe. He is an outstanding program manager, but he can be rash.”

David smiled. “I have been called worse in my career, ma’am.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “I understand there may be some…impediments to Mr. Lowe continuing to support the Lion.”

“Ah, perhaps. I can’t really comment on that, Colonel. It’s an internal matter, as I’m sure you can understand.”

“Of course. But I would be remiss if I didn’t tell you that I view his continued support of this vessel as vital to our ongoing mission to defend the Terran Coalition. I hope that carries the appropriate weight with you and his other superiors.”

Margaret pursed her lips together. “Of course, I understand, Colonel. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“No, ma’am—just keep the upgrades to my ship coming and a solid team to work on my ship.”

“Thank you, Colonel. Good day.”

“Good day, Ms. Lee.” David pressed the button to disconnect the call. He was confident that the message had been received. Now he would try to go to bed and prepare himself for a joint press conference tomorrow with the leaders of both the Terran Coalition and the Saurian Empire. The funerals were still being scheduled, but Sheila would be given full military honors. He understood President Spencer would be attending in person. He knew that just getting through them would be difficult. After that, he somehow had to get himself ready to go back out to fight. Leaning his head back on the couch, he wondered if he would ever be right again.

39

Obi Sherazi, the chief minister of the Saurian Empire’s governing body, walked with a small group of advisors and his security detail toward what the Terrans called the “South Briefing Room” within their governmental complex on Canaan. The Saurians were a race of bi-pedal humanoid aliens that the Terran Coalition had encountered roughly two centuries before. The two races had fought several hot wars and experienced a period of a cold war before relations warmed and they became, if not allies, at least trading partners that considered each other friends. Saurians, in general appearance, lacked hair; the tops of their heads were instead a colorful patch of scales. Sherazi had visited the complex on numerous occasions, as he had been attempting to act as a broker between both the Terran Coalition and the League of Sol in the interests of creating a lasting peace. The last twenty-four hours had seen both the high-water mark for those efforts, followed by the realization that the League simply had no honor. There wouldn’t be a peace unless the League was defeated militarily first.

“We have to do something more to respond,” Sherazi said, more of a rhetorical statement of what he was thinking than anything else.

His senior advisor, Sardar Ihejirika—a younger Saurian who had been aligned with him for some time—flared his scales. “What would you have us do, Chief Minister? We tried to do what the Terrans couldn’t…get them a peace deal.”

Sherazi bristled. “We have sat back for years and watched this play out. Haven’t you once considered that we should be helping them more than we have?”

“I’m not inclined to counsel you to help the race that set our empire back a hundred years.”

Sherazi hissed. “Why do you persist in that old way of thinking? Our empire had grown overconfident, insular, and decadent. We thought we had the right to decide who was allowed to exist. The fact that the Terrans helped us rebuild after they defeated our empire shows us their true nature. One could even say that the war was one of the best things to happen to our empire in centuries! They showed us who we truly are.”

“Send them a few more ships or lift the rules against our citizens volunteering to join the Terrans’ military. What other steps could we take?”

Sherazi paused for a moment. What other steps could they take? That was a loaded question. “Once the League finishes with the Terrans and has defeated them, they’ll move on. To us. To the Matrinids. To anyone else they can conquer.”

“We don’t know that. The League claims it has no designs on our territory or any of the other races. Only the Terrans and any human colonies that aren’t under League rule.”

“You don’t honestly believe an empire that relishes in expansion and preaches human purity is going to stop on our doorstep? We lack the military might to defeat their entire fleet. They know that. They’ll defeat us all in detail.”

“Then send the chimps more war material. Prop them up. But don’t risk our sons and daughters in their war!” Ihejirika said, hissing as he did.

Sherazi whirled around and bared his teeth at Ihejirika, hissing. “Do not use dishonorable and racist language in my presence, young man. Or you will find yourself without a job!”

Ihejirika bowed his head. “I apologize, Chief Minister.”

Sherazi inclined his head, accepting the apology. Turning back toward the direction he had been walking, he decided that now, more than ever, something had to be done to change the balance of power. He had prayed, oh how he had prayed, that a path would reveal itself. This moment had been coming for years, and successive Saurian leaders had avoided the question of what to do if anything in the fight against the League of Sol. But now, the difficult decision could wait no longer. Walking up to the door leading to the briefing room, he knew it was time.

He looked at Ihejirika. “Let’s get on with it.”

* * *

After a photo opportunity with President Spencer was concluded, both leaders took their place at the front of the briefing room. There were dozens of reporters from both empires present in the large meeting space. The Lion’s senior officers were present and seated behind both President Spencer and Chief Minister Sherazi.

As the visiting head of state, protocol dictated that Sherazi went first. “Mr. President, honored members of both the Terran Coalition and Saurian Empire’s diplomatic service, honored members of both our militaries, ladies and gentlemen. Thank you for the opportunity to share this joint podium today,” Sherazi said, speaking into the microphone at his lectern. “I wish to honor the gallantry and sacrifice of the brave soldiers that prevented the League from killing our diplomatic team, and for their courage in the face of great odds.” The Saurian paused for a moment, his eyes sweeping the crowd and looking behind him to the command crew of the Lion. “I also wish to honor Major Sheila Thompson. Her actions in saving her ship are consistent with the finest traditions of not only your own military service, but of the Saurian Empire as well.”

As he spoke of Sheila, his eyes rested on David. David seemed to take notice and gave a slight nod of acknowledgement and thanks. Sherazi nodded his head before continuing. “Major Thompson’s sacrifice is also consistent with her beliefs, ones that are shared by many of our citizens as well as myself. There is no greater love for another than to give your life to save another. This was taught to us many thousands of years ago by our greatest prophet. That maxim was taught to you as well.

“Humans always seem to have a saying or quote that fits a given situation,” he said. “One that I find myself remembering as of late is this: ‘All that is required for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing.’” Sherazi pursed his lips together and paused. “For far too long, I, and many of those in the Saurian Empire, have done nothing. Oh, we’ve sent medical supplies, a few dozen outdated ships we would have scrapped anyway, not to mention many young men and women who have more honor than their elders have defied our laws and the specter of dishonor to come and join the Coalition Defense Force in order to fight the evil that is the League of Sol.”

David pondered exactly where was this going. He noted that the room had become very still. The sound of a pin dropping would have had the same effect as a grenade going off. Whatever it was, it was big.

“But here we stand, continuing to shield ourselves with words, refusing to join this noble fight, refusing to do what is right. So today, I have decided that the Saurian Empire will no longer do nothing.” Sherazi took a step from behind his podium and toward President Spencer. “Mr. President, if you will have us, I pledge to you that the Saurian Empire will join the fight against the League of Sol. Together, and with anyone else who will join us, we will unite to defeat the League wherever it may slither. We will fight, we will overcome, and we will not rest until the League has surrendered or is destroyed!”

Spencer looked as if he had been slapped. Of all the things anyone expected today, this wasn’t one of them. David knew there would be problems, the least of which would be getting Saurian and Human to work together without coming to blows. But those were good problems, and ones maybe he could help figure out.

Spencer took a step from behind his podium, crossing the stage to meet Chief Minister Sherazi. Both men extended their arms and shook firmly.

“Speaking on behalf of all citizens in the Terran Coalition, we would be honored to see the Saurian Empire join us in this fight,” Spencer said, his voice full of emotion.

At that point, the members of the diplomatic team, the military, and many of the reporters in the room began to applaud, as did the crew of the Lion of Judah.

David thought to himself that perhaps all of the pain and sacrifice had been worth it to get to this point, except for Sheila’s death. It took at least thirty seconds for the crowd to quiet down, and reporters began shouting questions.

“Chief Minister Sherazi, the Saurians have stayed neutral for twenty-seven years. How will your people react to this seeming unilateral declaration of war?” a female reporter at the front of the room shouted.

“They will see the justness of our cause and rally to it,” Sherazi said in a direct tone.

“And if they don’t?” another reporter shouted back.

“Then I will call on anyone who disagrees to challenge me to blood combat,” Sherazi said with a small trace of smugness; he was renowned as a martial artist within the Saurian Empire.

Another reporter interrupted, “Chief Minister, how many ships will you send?”

Sherazi turned to face the man. “Aside from our home defense guard, everything we have.”

More reporters started to speak over each other, when a young woman screamed the loudest. “Mr. President! There are reports that our forces fired first against the League peace delegation; is that true?”

“Ms. Roberts, the CDF has provided direct sensor data that clearly shows the Destruction fired first.”

David fumed within as Spencer fielded the question. How could anyone believe that the League was the victim?

Not to be deterred, the young woman yelled a follow-up question before he could call on someone else. “Sensor logs can be faked, sir. How do we know that the CDF is telling the truth?”

“Young lady, do you have any proof of that allegation?”

“No, sir, just a questioning mind.”

“The facts speak for themselves. You can interview the thousands of people onboard the Lion of Judah, tens of thousands more on our space-based military installations, or onboard the hundreds of civilian craft that all saw the Destruction fire first. Next!” Spencer said, his tone briefly crossing over to anger before he resumed his normal pitch.

A reporter from Canaan News Network, a decidedly right of center news outlet, hollered out a question. “Chief Minister, why, after nearly thirty years, is the Saurian Empire joining the fight?”

Sherazi responded, “Because this is the first time the Saurians have had leadership willing to make a very difficult decision. Joining a war isn’t something that is done lightly or without consideration. In truth, we should have joined this fight many years ago.”

Yet another reporter shouted out, “Bret Stevens, Galactic News Network…Mr. President, while surely this is a shot in the arm to our war effort, do you really think one victory and a new ally is enough to stem the tide of the League? Are you going to consider renewed diplomatic efforts?”

Spencer leaned forward into the podium. “Mr. Stevens, any time the League would like to surrender, we’re all ears.”

The same reporter then shouted a follow up. “What about a negotiated peace, Mr. President?”

“We’ve tried many times to reach a negotiated peace, Mr. Stevens. You know that. Everyone in the press corps knows that, and every citizen in the Terran Coalition knows that. Those attempts have failed. Perhaps after we’ve kicked the League out of our space and with our new allies taking the war to the League, they will want to reconsider. At that point in time, we’ll address it. Next!”

A reporter at the back of the room stood to get the president’s attention and Sherazi pointed to her. “Chief Minister, Mr. President, when will the Lion of Judah return to the front against the League?”

At that question, David shuddered. The thought of going back into combat with his mind unsettled was unappealing to say the least. He barely heard President Spencer say that operational details of the war couldn’t be discussed. The rest of the press conference went by at a snail’s pace for him, and when it was finally over, he and the rest of the military personnel stood as the president and the chief minister left the room first, followed by their security details.

After the reporters had left, David and the remaining senior staff from the Lion congregated together. He had nothing left. I just want to go back to my bunk, he thought.

Ruth spoke up, filling the silence. “It is far too early to end our day. Why don’t we go have a drink and toast the fallen?”

Before David could say no, Calvin interjected, “Best idea I’ve heard all day. You a transfer from the Marines, Lieutenant?”

“From a medical perspective, I think it would do us all good,” Tural said, drawing laughter from the group.

“Come on, sir,” Ruth said as she glanced at David. “You need to be around people right now, sir. We all do.”

Okay, time to put on the happy command face. “You’ve convinced me. Where’re we going?”

“How about The Ready Room?” Hanson said.

Ruth rolled her eyes. “Do you own stock in that bar or something, Major?”

“No, it’s just a good place and it doesn’t rip off the military.”

“That works for me. Let’s go, people,” David said, ending the debate. This will be good for morale, and maybe some camaraderie will help the ease the burden on my heart and on the rest of us. They walked out together.

* * *

The group took over a section of the bar at The Ready Room, breaking up into smaller units around high-top tables to talk. Hanson, Ruth, and David gravitated together; they had been comrades in arms for the longest together and all knew Sheila well.

“There’s one thing I’m certain of,” Hanson said between sips of his beer.

“What’s that?” Ruth asked.

“Sheila would be happy we’re doing this together.”

David glanced up from his drink. “I’ll agree with that.”

“Cheer up, sir,” Ruth said as she looked at David with concern in her eyes.

“I’ll be okay. Someday,” David replied, his face a mask of emotional pain.

Watching David and Ruth, Hanson was desperate to change the subject. “How about plastering a League dreadnought on our first time at bat?”

“Did you mix in a sports metaphor?” Ruth asked, feigning disbelief.

“Uh yeah, Lieutenant.”

“It’s Ruth. We’re not on duty.”

“Right, Ruth.”

Ruth rolled her eyes. “There’s a reason you don’t have a girlfriend, Hanson.”

“I’m just waiting for the right girl!”

“You’d take any girl that showed interest in you at this point.”

“That’s not true…” Hanson sputtered, and then thinking of a retort, pressed on. “Like you’re one to talk. When was the last time you went on a date?”

Ruth gave an evil smile. “The last guy I dated quit talking to me after I explained to him that my job was killing League soldiers in large numbers.”

“I’m really glad you’re on our side.”

David looked up from his drink. “You two should get a room or something.”

Hanson felt his face run hot and turn red, looking from Ruth to David. In truth, he was attracted to her but couldn’t act on it because of their positions on the ship.

Ruth laughed as his face got redder. “Oooo, I think that one hit home.”

Calvin butted into the conversation. “What’s going on here? Our engineer looks like his reactor’s about to blow.”

Even David managed a smile as Ruth, Hanson, and Calvin laughed uproariously.

Standing up, David motioned the bartender over. “I’d like to get a round of shots.”

“What can I get for you and your crew, Colonel?”

“A round of Pineapple Upside Down Cake shots for us and a shot glass with water in it.” Taking in the quizzical stares from the rest of the officers, David explained further. “That was Sheila’s favorite shot, and Colonel Amir does not drink alcohol.”

Calvin rolled his eyes. “Hey, Amir. What’s this about you not drinking alcohol? You want to start now? I’ll teach you.”

“Not drinking alcohol is a tenet of my faith.”

“Oh whatever. There’s only a few things better than blasting Leaguers. Drinking shots after blasting Leaguers, for instance,” Calvin said. “And why are you ordering some girl’s drink for us, Colonel? Get a real shot. Barkeep! A round of Four Horsemen!”

The barkeeper looked from David to Calvin, not quite sure who to answer to before David answered. “Four Horsemen it is. And a shot glass with water in it.”

The barkeeper nodded and came back a few minutes later holding a tray filled with shot glasses. David, Ruth, Hanson, Calvin, Tural, Tinetariro, Merriweather, Hammond, and Taylor all picked up a shot while Amir got the shot glass with water in it.

David raised his shot glass high. “Let us give thanks to God for the blessings we have received. Let us give thanks to our brothers and sisters in arms, and let us remember the price that is paid for the freedoms we enjoy. Those who fell were part of us. We knew them. They were brave, and they paid the ultimate price without regard for themselves. We remember them tonight that they fought and died, not in vain but in honor. Let us never forget our fallen comrades. We knew them, we’ll remember them, and they will never be forgotten!”

Forcing his lips together, David seemed to labor to avoid showing emotion. “To our fallen!” As soon as he uttered those words, he brought the shot glass up to his mouth and downed it in one gulp. The rest of them repeated in unison, “To our fallen!” before downing their drinks as well.

Feeling the liquor burn as it went down his throat, Hanson was glad he was with his brothers and sisters in arms. He was going to miss Sheila, but that was war. Reflecting on how hard it was to make and keep friends, he felt sorry for David. Losing your best friend for almost twenty years? That had to be pure hell.

But in time, the pain would heal; it had for Hanson as he lost friends along the way. After the announcement of the Saurians joining them, he thought to himself that finally they were on the road to victory. That was more than enough to buoy his spirits as they ordered another round and celebrated the life of Sheila and the rest of the fallen into the wee hours of the morning.

* * *

MacIntosh waited patiently in the office of Richard McNamara, the programming director for the Galactic News Network, which was one of the largest holo-news outfits in the Terran Coalition. An old friend from his days as a young officer, the two men had remained friends for over twenty-five years. The door swished open and Richard strode through, making his way over to Andrew and greeting him warmly.

“Andrew! So good to see you, old friend!” McNamara said loudly.

MacIntosh stood up and shook McNamara’s hand warmly with a grin. “It’s been too long.”

As the two men took their respective seats, McNamara continued speaking. “What brings you by my office in uniform?”

MacIntosh laughed. “All business?”

“Always.”

“I wanted to discuss GNN’s coverage of the Lion of Judah and the events of the last twenty-four hours.”

“I see. I’m the programming director…not our news and editorial director, Andrew.”

“I realize that, but I also know you have a great deal of influence.”

“Are you here to complain about the perceived bias in our news coverage?”

MacIntosh snorted. “Perceived?”

“Okay, fine. As someone who voted for President Spencer, though don’t ever let that get out or I’m done here…I concede our news has a certain editorial viewpoint baked in, if you will.”

“That ambush interview with Colonel Cohen being an excellent example.”

“Oh please…he destroyed Leslie Sharp. I haven’t seen her beaten that bad on a live broadcast in years. Once he’s done blasting the League from our skies, you ought to get him to run for office. He’d be a natural.”

MacIntosh laughed out loud. “Somehow, I don’t ever see David Cohen as a politician.”

“So what’s the ask, Andrew?”

Brass tacks it is. “We just had a major win. The people have to hear it. Morale’s been crap and you know it. The story has to be told in an unvarnished, pro-CDF manner.”

“I don’t discount that destroying Seville’s flagship is a win, but there’s a lot of war left to fight.”

MacIntosh leaned forward in his seat. “The destruction of the Destruction,” he smirked at his bad pun, “isn’t what we need to play up. It’s the joining of the Saurians to our cause. That’s the game changer.”

“We’ve gotten reports that perhaps the chief minister’s comments were more symbolic.”

MacIntosh shook his head violently. “They’ve already sent dozens of warships to join us, and something to the effect of eighty percent of their fleet is slated to be here in two weeks.”

McNamara raised an eyebrow. “That’s a lot of ships.” He sighed. “Look, I want to help you. But this is a really big ask.”

“You owe me,” MacIntosh said pointedly. “I’ve never called in that favor.”

McNamara let his head sag. “You know, I’ve wondered why over the years you’ve never called it in.”

“Because I’ve never had something worth using it on before. This is it, Richard. We’re going to win, and we’ve got to have everyone onboard.”

“You’ve got to give me something to take to the news division.”

“I figured you’d say that. I know how this game works. So how about this… I’ll give GNN, and not Canaan News Network, the embedded reporter slot on the Lion.”

“Seriously?” McNamara asked.

“As long as it’s not Leslie Sharp. For God’s sake, at least get someone who acts fair and somewhat pro-CDF.”

There was silence in the room for more than a couple of seconds before McNamara finally spoke. “I can sell this.” He looked MacIntosh directly in the eyes. “But only if you’re absolutely sure it’s for real.”

“I’d stake my life on it.”

“Okay. I’m in. I’ll even give you veto power on the embed. Behind the scenes, of course.”

MacIntosh sat back in his chair; this was the last portion of his plan to turn morale around. He’d called in every favor he had throughout the media, cultivated throughout a career that started four years before the initial Battle of Canaan. It would all be worth it if the people of the Terran Coalition could believe in victory again. “You have a deal, Richard.” He leaned forward and extended his hand; McNamara took it and they shook warmly.

40

David had decided to stay in his quarters rather than his on-planet apartment after leaving the pub that night. He figured that there would be media types waiting to try to get a picture of him, thanks to the enormous amount of publicity that the Lion and her maiden voyage had generated. That, and he just wanted to be alone. He couldn’t shake the feeling of depression and sadness that washed over him every time he thought of Sheila’s death, even after the amazing declaration from the Saurian president. Any channel he turned on and every news post had her likeness and the story running over and over that she had saved them all. And in doing so, she had also saved the Terran Coalition from destruction.

David really didn’t care for the fact that his best friend’s memory was being used for war propaganda, but at least they told the truth. He took his uniform sweater off, unbuttoned his collar, and sat down at the desk. He decided to turn on his tablet and noticed that he had a video message. Clicking on it, the message opened and asked him to verify his identity. Pressing his finger on the screen, the application began to play the message.

Sheila’s face appeared. “David,” she began. “If you are receiving this message, well, I’m not here anymore. Oh, I know that’s melodramatic, but I had to leave you something.”

As she talked, David noticed that the timestamp on the message was from over six months ago, right before they had begun serving on the Rabin together.

“You see, you asked me something, and I couldn’t be fully honest with you. You asked me why I wanted to come serve with you again. The truth is, I missed you. I missed you for so long. I remember the sadness in your eyes when I told you I was getting married to James. I had always thought you cared for me in a way that was more than friendship. I tried to encourage you to open up about it. It was only later that I realized you had closed yourself off to meaningful relationships because of how hurt you were.”

Watching the video, David could barely process his emotions. He had cared for Sheila, and he had feelings for her that went beyond mere friendship. Having her likeness call him on it brought it all to the forefront. It became crystal clear to him why her death affected him so badly. He had hoped that one day the war would be over, and he’d be able to try to act on those feelings. Now that hope was gone.

“I love you,” she said, beginning to cry a little in the video. “You have always inspired the best in me and in those around you. You helped me get past James’ death. You also helped me believe that one day we could actually win. And I know that right now you are torn up inside. You hide it, you bury it, but I know it’s there. You have to find a way to let it out, David. Your feelings will destroy you from the inside if you don’t. Keep fighting for what you believe in, for what I believed in. Don’t let the good that’s in you be destroyed by hatred. Don’t ever let it consume you. And someday, I hope that we’ll see each other again on the other side. I can’t comprehend what that would be like…but I hope we do. So stop blaming yourself for my death. I know you will, but it’s not your fault. Let yourself find happiness and for God’s sake stop shutting yourself off to everyone around you. You can’t carry the burden of the world on your shoulders.” She paused for a moment. “Please try to talk to my mother. She’ll be mad, but talk to her. Make her understand that I did this of my own accord, and that I stayed in the military because I felt I had to stand up and be counted.” There was another pause. “I wish you and I could have grown old together. I wish we could have had a large family like you Orthodox Jews pump out,” she said with a sad laugh. “Remember me, but don’t dwell on the past. Wherever you are now, whatever you’re doing, the Terran Coalition needs you. Keep fighting. Stay true to what you believe and those ideals you insisted the rest of us follow. Some things are just worth fighting for…and sometimes they’re worth dying for.” By now, tears streamed down her face. “Good bye, David. I’ll always love you.”

In stunned silence, David struggled to react to her words. David watched the video twice more that night before sitting back in his chair and looking up at the ceiling. Finally, when he had thought he could cry no more, the realization of Sheila’s message to him, with all of its accuracy, made him cry again.

As the tears ran down David’s face that evening, his mind ran back through her words while his heart ran through his emotions. First an overwhelming feeling of sadness, coupled with the bittersweet realization that they had deeply cared for one another for years rippled through him. I’ve been denying it for a long time. No wonder I was so jealous when she got married. I should’ve said something to her, but now I’ll never get the chance. What have I done? How do I ever make peace with the fact that she wanted to stand down, but I insisted on chasing down Seville?

* * *

The next morning, there was a grand ceremony to welcome home the prisoners of war rescued from the captured League freighter. The League had selected the first five thousand Coalition Defense Force and various Terran Coalition nation-state military POWs for the trip; in accordance with the POW code observed by nearly every CDF and Terran Coalition POW, they were to be repatriated only in order of capture. To avoid an unneeded riot, the League handlers had done just that, taking the first five thousand captured. Those selected had no idea it was a farce; they’d actually believed they were coming home. Reflecting on that reality, Colonel Clint Waterman, the highest-ranking POW and de facto leader of the group, adjusted his uniform while looking in a mirror. Such a simple thing, that mirror, he thought to himself. But I haven’t seen one in over twenty years.

The last forty-eight hours had been extreme culture shock for all of them; first thinking they were going to die at the hands of the League guards and saved at the last moment by the Marines. Now they prepared to disembark from shuttles and be repatriated. Clint had been able to speak with his wife and children for a few minutes the night before, letting them know he was alive. While they were excited to see him, he realized that he must be a distant memory to them. In time, Clint hoped that he and the rest of his comrades in arms could reintegrate into society. He also knew that many of them had wounds that would take years to heal, both physical and mental… if they ever did.

Making his way to the front of the transport, he stood near the departure door and waited. None of the other CDF soldiers seemed to know what to say; some attempted small talk, but how do you make small talk with a man who had been imprisoned and tortured for twenty years? Sensing their unease, he had tried to make light of the situation himself by addressing the young corporal in charge of the ramp crew. “Waiting for them to give the okay to open up the ramp, Corporal?”

“Uh, yes, sir,” the young man said hesitantly.

“I remember those days. Nothing ever seemed to happen on time. I’m just glad to be home and getting some decent grub for a change. Leaguer food tastes about as drab as you’d think it would in a communist country. Bland and slimy.”

The corporal laughed, lightening up some. “I can’t imagine, sir, but I don’t even like eating MREs,” referring to meals ready to eat, the combat rations of the CDF. “I’m just happy to get three hots and a cot when I’m deployed.”

“I know what you mean, Corporal. I know what you mean.”

Finally, the door to the transport opened and the ramp descended. This particular transport only had three hundred POWs on it. As thousands of family members had thronged the base, they had to manage how many people were on the flight line to avoid injuries. As the highest-ranking POW, it was Clint’s duty to walk down the ramp first. With difficulty due to old wounds, including having both of his legs broken during interrogation sessions, he slowly made his way down the ramp on his own power. As he reached the bottom, General Andrew MacIntosh, the Secretary of Defense, and President Spencer were there to greet him. Exchanging salutes with all three, he realized that the flag of Terran Coalition was not only flying high on a nearby flagpole, but that the crowds waved both CDF and Terran Coalition flags proudly while they cheered. Clint noticed that Colonel Demood stood with another group of officers; he assumed they were his crewmates from the Lion of Judah.

Clint turned toward the flag, waving in the wind on the nearest flagpole he could see and raised his hand to his brow, snapping off a crisp salute. He then turned to face a single camera and a microphone that had been placed at the bottom of the ramp, where he read a short statement.

“On behalf of my fellow prisoners of war and on behalf of those who paid the ultimate price, I would like to thank all the members of the Coalition Defense Force responsible for us being here today, and specifically Colonel Demood and Terran Coalition Marine Corps. Without their heroic efforts, none of us would have survived. It has been an honor, both for myself and those who have been held captive with me, to serve our country, even after what we endured. We will now devote ourselves to helping in any way that we can to defeat the League of Sol once and for all. God Bless the Terran Coalition!”

As he finished speaking, his voice cracked with emotion as he repeated the often-invoked phrase “God Bless the Terran Coalition.” President Spencer embraced him, and then shook his hand warmly before Clint took his position to the side of General MacIntosh as the next POW in line walked down the ramp. For the next two hours, men and women walked down the ramp, exchanging salutes, most barely able to walk. As the final POW—a lady Clint had gotten to know briefly who had been captured eighteen years prior—walked away, President Spencer spoke. “Colonel, let’s get you to the nearest rehab hospital. I’m sure you will want to be able to enjoy retirement at one hundred percent,” he said with a smile.

Clint turned to look at Spencer straight in the eye. “Sir, I have no plans to retire. As soon as I am medically cleared, I intend to rejoin the fight.”

Spencer looked shocked. “Are you certain, Colonel?”

“Yes, sir. I do want to spend some time with my family, but this is my fight too. I’m not walking away from it, not while I still have something to offer.”

Spencer nodded and extended his hand, which Clint took and shook. “Good luck, Colonel. Godspeed.”

“Thank you, sir,” Client responded and walked away.

As he did, he overheard Spencer comment to General MacIntosh behind him, “Andrew, as long as men and women like that fight for our cause, there will always be hope.”

* * *

David strode into a small interview room within the Terran Coalition’s Intelligence center a day after the ceremony to repatriate the POWs rescued from the League freighter. He was now simply an automated being; he went from point A to point B on autopilot, keeping a flat expression on his face, his mind focused on his work as to not allow the emotional turmoil deep inside from boiling to the surface. He’d come to the intelligence center to speak to Carl Jenner, the League’s diplomatic minister.

CDF Intelligence had tried to debrief him for several days, but he had refused to speak to anyone except David about more than his name, position, and identification number. General MacIntosh had ordered him to make himself available to the spooks, so here he was, walking into the interview room like it was another day at the office.

It took some time to bring Minister Jenner to the interview room, time which David took to think about why the man would want to talk to him. I wonder why he wants to talk to me. Was it the civil conversation we had over dinner? Maybe he was being honest when he said he wanted peace. Was it possible that the man had been hoodwinked? David at least considered that possibility; after all, who in their right mind would consent to be the patsy for a scheme such as the one the League tried to pull.

The door opening interrupted David’s thoughts. The security detail of two military policemen led Carl in, who, once he was seated, left the room to stand guard just outside the door. David stood on instinct. “Minister Jenner.”

“Colonel.”

David extended his hand to Jenner, who looked at it for a moment before shaking. Taking a seat, he stared at the League official. “I’m not sure why you asked me here, Minister.”

“I thought you might understand.”

“Understand what?”

“That I had no idea what Seville and those damn warmongers planned.”

David sat back in his chair, pondering the man’s comments and expression. “Minister, I don’t think it matters what I believe.”

“I’m no longer a minister, not that I would want that title back again. Please, call me Carl.”

David’s brow furrowed as he thought. “Very well. I still don’t understand what you hope I can accomplish.”

“You have to convince them I was sincere, and that the faction I represented in the State Security Committee was sincere as well, Colonel.”

“Why? So we won’t execute you for a war crime?” David shot back, the cynicism that had settled into his soul breaking through.

Jenner’s face turned to a grimace. “Do you truly think that little of me, Colonel? I remind you that while you may have lost your father to this war, I lost both of my sons. I must live with that until I die. Parents shouldn’t outlive their children.” His voice rose to nearly a shout.

David considered for a moment. Perhaps that was a low blow. All evidence indicated that Jenner was simply used by the League military to get what they wanted; a knockout blow on Canaan. “I’m sorry, Carl,” he said, using Jenner’s first name for the first time. “I don’t believe you knew what was going on. I’m not myself. This latest battle claimed the life of someone very near and dear to me.”

“I would assume that is Major Thompson?”

David nodded sadly. “Yes. I think I’m pretty lost without her.”

“That’s how I felt after my second boy was killed. Empty. Lost. I decided that this madness had to end, so I started trying to find others that felt as I did.”

“I’ll concede that is a noble endeavor, Carl, but you can’t be naive enough to believe everything that the League puts out. Sure, Earth is a utopia, but it’s a utopia because it strips resources, food, and supplies from the outer ring planets in the League.”

To David’s great surprise, Jenner nodded. “You are mostly correct, Colonel. The oligarchs have over time replaced our socialism with their control. We need serious reforms to get back to our ideals that all are equal and that we ensure, as a society, that all are treated equally.”

“So you are running into the problem that some pigs are more equal than others?” David asked.

“I’m afraid I don’t follow. What do pigs have to do with it?”

David chuckled. “A book we all have to read as school children from Earth’s 20th century. Animal Farm by George Orwell. It’s an allegory about the evil of socialism. You should read it… it’s a very eye-opening read pertaining to what happens when a group of people decide they know what’s best for others.”

“I would rather have a society where we surrender some rights than have one like the Terran Coalition where the poor beg for scraps and citizens aren’t guaranteed basic necessities.”

“There’s a job for anyone who wants it in the Terran Coalition, Carl. Unemployment across all of our planets is less than four percent. It’s true… some struggle, but that’s why we have robust charity organizations centered around our religious intuitions. Judaism, for instance, operates Jewish Community Centers across every planet in the Terran Coalition.”

“Are only Jews welcome to obtain help there?”

“Anyone is welcome regardless of what faith you hold, including none at all. The Terran Coalition collectively takes care of our citizens; we just do it without overwhelming government presence. The government has a safety net for the neediest. Private charity does the rest.”

“I find it hard to believe that it’s possible for private charity and minimal government intervention to work across a large scale.”

“Then perhaps once you are released from custody, you’d allow me to give you a tour of some of our planets and not just Canaan… but also our border worlds, which are still quite undeveloped. You can see how it works for yourself.”

Jenner snorted. “While I would gladly take you up on that offer… I don’t think I’m ever getting out of here, Colonel.”

“It will take a while, and you will be questioned repeatedly. But if you tell the truth, they will let you out. We’re more interested in justice than retribution.”

“Do you really believe that?”

“Yes, I do. It’s one of the reasons I get up every morning and put on this uniform.”

“I hope you’re right. I still want to try to bring peace to the Terran Coalition and League of Sol. Despite our differences, we’ve got to find a way to live together. If we don’t, this war will destroy us all.”

A knock on the door informed David that the allotted time for the discussion with Jenner was up. “I’m afraid they’ve come to collect you, Carl.”

Jenner stood as the door swung open and the security detail strode in. “Thank you for coming, Colonel. Please pass on what I’ve asked to your superiors.”

“I will. Good luck and Godspeed.”

Jenner inclined his head and was led out by the security detail. A few minutes later, David was debriefed on his conversation with Minister Jenner. Fumbling his way through the discussion, David just wanted to get out of there and go back to his quarters. The funerals for Sheila and those who had fallen were scheduled for the next day. He had to figure out how to get through that and carry on. The question was how he could find his way back to duty when he was so lost in the pain of his emotions.

41

Kenneth Lowe looked across his desk at the small group of people in his office onboard the Lion, his second in command, Joshua Carter, and several team leads, including Harold Billings. With a defeated tone to his voice, Kenneth addressed his team. “I’m afraid I was asked by Mr. Casey to tender my resignation, folks.”

There was a pregnant pause in the room as the rest of them looked at one another. Helen Thames, the project controller, was the first to speak. “That’s not fair, sir. We all volunteered.”

“Nevertheless, I disobeyed a direct order. I know I’ve said to all of you, more than once, if you find yourself in a position where you lack confidence in your chain of command, the only recourse is to resign. I had been prepared to do so prior to his request.”

“That’s bullshit,” Harold blurted out in his usual no-nonsense tone.

“Regardless, it is what it is. For several years now, we’ve done our best to run this program the right way and take care of those men and women out there fighting for us. For me, at least, that fight is over. I’m sure I will end up somewhere else. I need all of you to refocus your efforts to keep this ship operational, get it upgraded, and help it become the fighting machine we all know it is capable of being. It has been an honor and a privilege to work side-by-side with you these last four years.” Kenneth paused for a moment and turned to Joshua. “Now it’s on you to keep it going, Josh.”

Joshua shook his head. “I have no desire to continue without you, sir.”

“While that means a great deal to me, this program must go on. It’s bigger than any one of us. Even if every person assigned to this project walked out, the only people it would hurt are the crew of this ship, and the citizens of the Terran Coalition, including ourselves. In times like this, we must all sacrifice. One defense contractor’s career is a small price to pay. I’m willing to pay it, with a smile on my face.”

As he finished his statement, the screen he had attached to his tablet began to blink, indicating a vidlink. Briefly looking at the incoming request, Kenneth realized it was from Margaret Lee. This should be interesting. He made a shush sound to the room before accepting the call.

“Hello, Ms. Lee.”

“Hello, Mr. Lowe. How are you doing today?”

“I’m preparing to write my resignation letter, ma’am.”

“I see. At whose request?”

“Mr. Casey requested it before the Lion of Judah returned to space dock, ma’am. Given that I disobeyed a direct order and I have no confidence in Mr. Casey’s ability to lead, I felt it was the best course of action.”

There was a hiccup in the video feed; when it blinked back on, Margaret was smiling, “While I understand your respect for the chain of command, Kenneth…this isn’t the military. Your actions were exceedingly risky, but you made the right call. I don’t want mindless automatons working for me. I want living, breathing, thinking people that are willing and able to make difficult judgment calls when needed. By all accounts, your actions, coupled with that of the military crew of the Lion, helped make good on a nasty situation, and quite possibly saved the Terran Coalition.”

Kenneth shook his head. “Ma’am, all we did was work on some computer systems. Mr. Uzun deserves any real credit for joining the rescue mission for the POWs.”

“Modesty can sometimes be a bad thing in the corporate world, Kenneth. Let me put this a different way to you. You gambled. You won. SSI won too. Now we’re looking at a three-billion-credit contract that won’t even be put out for bid. Consider your resignation rejected.”

Kenneth tried to interject, as he was going to tell her he wouldn’t work for Stephen Casey any longer, but she spoke over him. “I’m also removing you from Stephen’s group. You will now report directly to me, and I am promoting you to director.”

Kenneth was stunned into silence for a moment. “Uh, yes, ma’am.”

“Do you think you could join me for a meeting tomorrow morning? I’d like to go over your new duties, and how I expect you to integrate into my team.”

“Yes, ma’am. Of course. What time?”

“Ten AM would be fine, in my office.”

“Yes, ma’am, I will see you then.”

“Good day, Kenneth.”

“Godspeed, Ms. Lee.”

The connection cut off abruptly, and for a moment, Kenneth said nothing. Deep down, he still thought he should resign because of the death of Uzun. Contractors weren’t supposed to be killed in combat; they weren’t supposed to fight. From a logical perspective, Kenneth knew the man had volunteered, and that his sacrifice saved thousands of lives. That didn’t make it any less hard to deal with the fact that Uzun wouldn’t have been there if not for Kenneth asking for volunteers. Raising his head and looking at his team, he saw smiles and a few happy tears.

Helen was the first to speak. “Score one for common sense.”

“I didn’t see that coming,” Kenneth said.

Joshua reached over the desk and slapped Kenneth’s arm. “Sometimes the good guys do finish first, sir.”

Kenneth cracked a smile. “I guess I’d better unpack my boxes and get back to work.”

“Yeah, and then we’re going to go wet down your promotion, Mr. Director,” Kevin said.

Joshua laughed. “Let’s go with El Director. It sounds more ominous.”

Kenneth smirked. “But I’m a teddy bear! That makes me sound like a tin pot dictator from one of the neutral worlds allied with the League!”

There were chuckles throughout the room; Kenneth was silent for a moment. “Thank you all for standing with me. At least we get a few more months to do this right.”

“Here, here!” Harold said.

“Okay, back to work everyone! Gather the team at 6 PM; happy hour is on me.”

* * *

David paced around his day cabin, brooding. The funerals for Sheila and the rest of the fallen from the battle would occur in the afternoon, but he couldn’t bring himself to stand watch until then. Better not to be seen on the bridge like this. I don’t want to shake the confidence of my crew. He had a pre-arranged video conference with General MacIntosh to discuss the Lion’s upcoming assignment and her new XO. That last part really got under his skin. Sheila wasn’t even in the ground yet, but the military had to assign a new XO. From a logical perspective, he got it. But from an emotional response perspective, it made him raw with rage.

The tablet beeped, reminding him it was time to connect to the video conference. David pulled up the application and entered his security code, General MacIntosh’s face appearing on his tablet a moment later.

“Thank you for joining me, Colonel,” MacIntosh’s voice rang through the speakers on the tablet.

“Of course, sir.”

“How are you holding up?”

“As best as can be expected, sir,” David replied. In reality, he was a mass of emotion, but that wasn’t the kind of thing he could tell his commanding officer.

“We’re going to be sending you back to the front rather quickly. Is your ship ready for deployment?”

“It will be, sir. We do have some personnel gaps that need to be addressed, specifically in our Marine detachment and embarked fighter wings,” David avoided mentioned the XO position.

“Colonels Demood and Amir will be getting topped off with new personnel before you depart. It is my intention to have the Lion perform around-the-clock shakedown activities for two weeks, then join the vanguard of our drive to push the League out of our space.” MacIntosh paused for a moment. “I’ve also been reviewing potential XOs for you.”

“It will be good to get back into the fight, sir.”

“The Joint Chiefs, SecDef, and President Spencer are unanimous in their belief that the Lion’s XO should be a Saurian.”

“I see, sir,” David said. Great, Sheila’s position gets turned into a PR stunt.

“Look, I get that this is hard. You have to understand that the alliance with the Saurians must stick. Period, full stop. It’s the only way we win this war in anything like a reasonable amount of time. Or for that matter, win it at all. I’m going to send you the best Saurian I can find. The guy I have in mind completed an exchange program rotation with the CDF, so he’ll at least understand how we do things. I expect you to treat him well and integrate him into your crew. Do I make myself clear, Colonel?”

“Crystal, sir.”

MacIntosh leaned forward toward the camera. “David, I know the last few days have been hell for you. I’m not discounting that. But you’ve got to put it aside and get back to work. Try to gain some closure today. We’ve all laid too many good friends into the ground, but there’s a real chance that now we can at least honor their memory by winning this war. You’ve got to take that hope, grab hold of it, nurture it.”

David forced himself to reply. “Yes, sir. Working on it.”

“Good. I’ll see you this afternoon. Take care and Godspeed.”

The tablet video link disconnected, leaving him staring at a blank screen. David sat and thought about MacIntosh’s words; he knew that from a logical perspective, they were on point. Logic however, failed him. The deep depression that swept over him simply couldn’t be brushed away with positive thoughts.

David forced himself to stay on task for the rest of the morning, working through personnel transfers and reviewing requests for additional equipment and supplies that required his signature. When his communicator reminded him it was 1200 hours, he left his office and made his way back to his cabin to prepare for the funerals later that afternoon.

* * *

David felt completely lost, gazing across a sea of polished white marble crosses, Stars of David, crescents and stars, and assorted other tombstones. Determined to honor his best friend, he stood with many other mourners, including Ruth, Hanson, Calvin, Tinetariro, Tural, Amir, and Hammond. Sheila had been turned into a Coalition-wide hero, and her funeral was evidence of that fact. President Spencer was in attendance, and many of the Joint Chiefs of Staff were with him. He thought to himself that he couldn’t care less about how much brass attended the funeral. All he wanted to do was honor his best friend and the woman he never allowed himself to express that he loved. Now that it was too late, all he wanted to do was just be able to talk to her one last time, tell her that he loved her, and try to find some way to make it all right again.

The Coalition Defense Force has pulled out all the stops, David thought to himself as a caisson drawn by a team of four horses came into view, coming down the dusty road through the cemetery. A riderless horse, the symbol of a fallen leader, followed it. As the caisson came to a stop, the honor guard approached it, exchanging salutes with the officer in charge and the chaplain. He watched as the casket team removed the casket with slow military precision. The chaplain then led the way to the gravesite followed by the honor guard, then Sheila’s family, and finally, the rest of the mourners.

This was the third funeral David had attended today, the first two being for crewmembers who died on the Lion and Hadi Uzun. There had been tears at those services, but now, David was literally beginning to shut down emotionally. He kept going back to Why? Why her? Logically, he knew that Sheila made a decision not to sacrifice someone else. Part of him wished that she had, but he also knew that the very thing that made her unwilling to sacrifice another was what he loved so much about her.

David’s thoughts continued to wander as the honor guard sat the casket down next to the freshly dug grave. Sheila’s family, including her mother and father as well as her brother, was seated first. David was one of the last to sit after the rest of the Lion’s senior staff had taken their seats on the back row.

The honor guard stepped back and off to the side, coming to parade rest, while the chaplain stepped up and spoke to the mourners.

“We come here today to mourn the passing of a young woman full of life. Not just lost to a random act of chance, but a life snuffed out by an all-consuming war,” the chaplain began.

“I know that looking around the people here today, I’m not the only one that asks why. I’m not the only one that looks up at the sky and asks over and over why God allows the horrible things that happen to continue. The pain and anguish that Sheila’s family, friends, and colleagues are enduring are altogether too common. There is almost no one in our land that hasn’t been touched by this war and by loss from it.

“In the book of Job, when Job finds out that his children have died, it says that Job stood up and tore his robe in grief, then he shaved his head and fell to the ground before God. Job said that the Lord gave me everything I had, and the Lord has taken it away. Praise the name of the Lord.”

The chaplain paused for a moment and glanced from side to side of the crowd. “Many times, we simply move on from our grief, lacking the time to process it, and we make ourselves busy so that we forget. But Job isn’t telling us to do that. Indeed, most of the book of Job is him mourning and challenging God as to that all-important question…why.”

Why is the question. Where is the justice in this? Why does God allow so many horrible things to happen? He claims to be just, and that if His people, who are called by His name, will humble themselves and pray that He will deliver them. Why hasn’t that happened?

“Our grief is something we must process. It is something we must endure. Some of us will move on more quickly than others, some will grieve for a long time. Those of us who finish our mourning before the rest must not grow impatient with those who don’t. Grief affects us all in different ways. Today we need to remember that Major Sheila Thompson was many things. A daughter, a warrior, a friend. She modeled the things that are the best in us. And our entire world is a little bit dimmer now that she is gone.

“I know that most of you here today have served, and that you all understand the idea of chain of command. Those of us who have been in the military understand that if we fail to follow orders, communication will break down, battles will dissolve into chaos, and the end result will be more lives lost. The same is true of believers. If we do not follow the orders found in the Bible, so too will our lives descend into chaos, and instead of lives, our souls will be lost. We must remain faithful and dedicated to the cause of Jesus Christ and what is just.

“I charge you all that as you leave this place today, remember the sacrifice of Sheila Thompson. Remember the sacrifice of all those who have gone before, and those that will undoubtedly follow. Some of you here may yet make that ultimate sacrifice. Know that as we stand with one voice, with one spirit, and with one mind, we are part of something larger than ourselves. Our suffering is for those we protect, and it is something that I, and I believe many of those who serve with me, take pride in doing. Not the kind of pride that says, ‘look at me, I did this.’ But the pride that comes from being a part of something bigger and better than yourself. Sheila Thompson had that pride, and she gave freely of herself so that others might live. She should serve as an inspiration to us all.

“Let us pray.” As heads bowed across the gathered mourners, the chaplain continued. “Dear Lord, we ask You to accept the soul of Sheila Thompson into Your loving care. We ask You to minister to her family and friends, and we ask You to heal them and heal our nation. In Your name we pray, Amen.”

David bowed his head out of respect but was lost in his own thoughts. It’s so easy to just chalk it all up to God’s will. But why does He let this continue to happen?

The honor guard stepped up to the casket, and the officer in charge requested that the mourners stand for rendering of honors. David stood and took a parade rest stance. The sergeant that led the honor guard commanded, “Present, arms!”

Gleaming and polished antique rifles snapped up to the port arms position, the rifles resting against their shoulders. “Aim!” the sergeant shouted, and moving as one, the honor guard pointed the rifles at the sky. “Fire!” A volley rang out, followed by another, then a third.

An unseen bugler played the notes to “Taps,” and as Sheila’s family sat, the honor guard folded the flag that draped her casket. It was all too much for David; tears streamed down his face. He nearly broke into sobs but managed to control himself enough not to do so. As the soldiers completed folding the flag into its neat little triangle, the sergeant, with slow and precise movements, presented it to the officer in charge of the ceremony. With deliberate steps, he walked to stand directly in front of Sheila’s mother before leaning down and presenting her with the flag. David could hear her crying as she took it from him.

The honor guard marched away, along with the caisson and the riderless horse. For a few minutes afterwards, the chaplain consoled Sheila’s parents, especially her mother, who was clearly in extreme grief. David hung back with the rest of the Lion’s command staff, waiting for the service to end. His ministering complete, the chaplain announced that the service was finished; the dignitaries and friends of the family began to walk away from the gravesite.

David looked toward Sheila’s mother and realized he would rather go into battle without a weapon than face her right now. In Sheila’s recording, she had implored him to talk to her mother, so he steeled himself to do it. Forcing his shoulders back, David walked with purpose up to the family and addressed them.

“Mr. and Mrs. Thompson.”

“You must be David,” Sheila’s mother replied.

“Yes, ma’am. David Cohen.”

“Sheila said a lot about you over the years.”

David’s eyes filled with tears. “I wanted to tell you how sorry I am.”

“I never wanted her to go down this path. I didn’t want her to spend a lifetime in the military.”

“I believe Sheila, if she was here, would tell you that she wanted to make a difference, and that service to the CDF was how she made that difference.”

“Did she make a difference? Did her death matter? Was it worth it?” The last few words were said at a higher pitch, and David could sense the anger behind them.

David paused, not entirely sure how to respond. In truth, he didn’t quite believe Sheila’s death was worth it, but that was colored by how raw the loss of her was. Inside a dark corner of his heart, there was a part of him that wished someone else had made the sacrifice that day, not her. “Sheila made a difference every day, ma’am,” he finally said. “I’ve seen few people with more dedication to the cause. She was my best friend in this galaxy. Was her death worth it? Did it matter? Yes, it mattered. She saved the ship. She saved us all. Do I wish every minute that it wasn’t her that did it? Yes. But she did what she believed was right. That’s one of the things I loved about her.”

“You’re alive because of her?”

“Yes,” David replied.

Sheila’s mother closed her eyes for a moment. “Then make sure you do something with her gift. Because it came at a very high cost.” Crying, she turned away.

David stood there for a minute until Ruth and the rest of the senior staff got his attention and helped him away from the gravesite. Just wanting to be alone, he took his leave of them and began to walk down the dusty path away from the grave and back toward civilization.

* * *

Calvin walked up the driveway to his home, looking up at the Terran Coalition flag raised high on the flagpole in the yard. He reflected for a moment on how much he loved the flag and the ceremonies around it. He had always planned to enlist his children, once he had some, to assist him in raising and lowering the flag each day. Until then, he just kept it lighted. He had been worried the entire trip home what his wife would have to say to him, but it turned out, he shouldn’t have been. Before he was halfway up the driveway, the front door flew open and Jessica ran out with tears of joy in her eyes. He quickened his pace to meet her in the middle, embraced her, and they kissed each other passionately.

“I’m sorry for what I said, baby,” she said to him softly. “I can’t tell you how proud of you I am.”

Calvin stared into her eyes. “Unless you just have something for a man in uniform...”

She laughed at his lame attempt at humor.

“I’ve got to ask you what changed, because you were pretty upset with me.”

“I’ve seen interview after interview on the holonets from the families of the POWs your team rescued. Now I know why you had to be there. God wanted you in that place, so you could save them.”

“It wasn’t me, baby; it was all of us.”

“You led them. You gave them confidence and courage. I’ve seen you do it with all these kids that you’ve been training.”

“So you’re okay with me staying in?”

“I’m not happy about it, but I see now it’s where you are supposed to be. It’s your calling, and I’ll be okay. I had my eggs frozen for a reason, and we can have a child whenever you are ready. So, you see this through, and then we can have our family.”

Calvin thought for a moment about how selfless she was being, and it made him love her all the more. “I’ll make it up to you. I promise. But for now, how about you let me show you how much I missed you?”

His wife kissed him playfully and called after him as she darted toward the house, “If you can catch me!”

42

David’s quarters were dark as he lay in bed considering the events of the day. It was simply too much for him to process, laying Sheila to rest with the other fallen. At the same time, planning to re-enter combat affected him in ways he didn’t expect or even understand. He was a mere automaton plodding along; his soul was crushed and he felt trapped in the depths of despair and hopelessness. After what seemed to him like hours of tossing and turning, he finally fell into a restless sleep.

Most nights, he’d have a dream or two that he might remember for a moment when he awoke, and occasionally, he’d remember something vividly, but he never had a dream quite like this one. It was almost as if he was conscious when he found himself transported to a field of green grass as far as the eye could see. The sun shined down on him as a gentle breeze blew through the grass. Looking out across the field, David felt peace he couldn’t explain flow over him like a river. Suddenly, he heard a woman’s voice. Not just any woman’s voice, but Sheila’s.

“David, I’ve missed you,” she said, clear as if she was standing beside him on the ship.

Turning to his right, he saw Sheila standing beside him in a white sundress. In stunned amazement, he managed to get out, “But…you’re gone.”

“My body is dead, but my soul isn’t. I’m still here with you.”

David raised an eyebrow. “This is all in my head. I must be having some whale of a dream.”

“No, not a dream. Something else, something you needed.”

David took her hand in his and squeezed it. It felt firm, and moreover, it felt real. Of course it feels real. It’s a construct of my mind. “And what does my subconscious think I need?”

“God thought you needed encouragement,” she said without a trace of hesitation or irony.

“HaShem? You’re telling me you met him?” David asked.

Sheila laughed softly. “Yes. I met all three of them. David, you are so broken right now.” She squeezed his hand tightly. “You have to get past your grief in order to live on.”

“I don’t know how to... I’m lost and I know my actions and orders caused you to die,” David admitted, looking down at her hands. “I never acknowledged the feelings I had for you. When I got the recording that you left for me, it forced me to confront my reality. I know you left it to communicate your feelings to me and encourage me, but it broke my heart to the core.”

Sheila put her other hand under his chin and gently lifted it up to her eyes. “I never wanted that. I loved you, David…I still do, it’s just different now. I’m different. I’m nowhere, but I’m everywhere at the same time. It’s truly wondrous.”

“What in the world are you talking about?” David asked.

“Jews believe in heaven, right?”

“Yes, though not quite in the same way as Christians do.”

“Well, I can only explain it this way. When my body died in space, one moment, I closed my eyes and hoped there was something more. The next moment, I opened them and I was in this sea of white light. God was there. He took me into this place. It’s unlike anything I can describe with words; you have to experience it to understand it.”

“Well, since every human dies, I’ll get to experience it someday, perhaps,” David said softly.

“Why wouldn’t you?” she asked, looking into his eyes.

“Sheila, when I look at my hands, I see blood. Blood of thousands of people that I’ve killed through direct action, through orders, and through inaction. I close my eyes and I see the innocents I know I’ve killed over the last seventeen years looking at me. I can’t escape them. I am consumed by hatred for the League, most of all for what I’ve become…a damn killing machine!” By the end, David was sobbing.

“God doesn’t blame you for that,” she said. “He loves you, He loves all of us. Even the League.”

David’s face clouded over. “Why would He love the League? They try to kill anyone who worships his name. They’ve murdered billions of people!”

“Because God wants everyone to repent and serve Him, even Admiral Seville,” she said earnestly.

“Seville’s the worst of them all!” David nearly shouted. “The man has single handedly helped kill over one hundred million men, women, and children! He belongs in Hell if it exists!” As Jews didn’t believe in the concept of Hell as a Christian did, David made a rather strong point to her.

“That’s not for you to decide, David,” Sheila said sadly. “You’ve got to let this go. It’s destroying you. Hating the League, hating Seville, that does nothing but eat you up inside and bring you further apart from God. God is love, David. Hate is evil.”

David angrily tore his hand out of hers. “The Sheila I know wouldn’t lecture me on forgiving Seville,” he said coldly.

“I would and have,” Sheila responded evenly as she walked around to get in his line of sight. “David, if you can’t forgive Seville, that’s okay. Ask God to help you. But if you hold on to it, you will become just like him! The pain you feel, the hurt you feel, the loss you feel, it’s all a symptom of a larger problem. Let go of the hate. God is there; He’s a still, small voice. Don’t shout him down! Let him help you.”

“Evil must be opposed. You used to tell me that. It’s our job to stop evil.”

“It is our job to stop evil where we can, but it’s also our job to stop evil from entering our hearts. You think God is out here by himself? For good to exist, evil must exist. That means that God has an opposing force. I call it Satan. Satan will do anything to tempt us, to turn us away from Him.”

“Jews don’t believe in Satan.”

“That’s nice,” Sheila said with a slight smirk on her face. “Somebody said the best trick Satan ever pulled was convincing people he didn’t exist. I think that’s true.”

David turned his head away. “I couldn’t save you, Sheila. I couldn’t save any of them. I don’t know how to live with that. I failed. I failed when seventy-eight men and women under my command were killed because of my orders back on the Rabin. It should’ve been me. Not you. Not them. Me.”

Sheila stepped up and grabbed both of his arms, “Stop it, David Cohen!” she shouted as she shook him. “You didn’t fail. You did the best you could. God asks no more of you than that, nor do your fellow soldiers. Stop blaming yourself!”

David’s shoulders sagged as he slumped forward. “I should just accept it?”

“You ask God to give you the ability to accept the things you cannot change, the courage to do the things that you can, and wisdom to tell the difference, and you never stop doing your best.”

For several seconds, David sat in silence. All the shame, guilt, and helplessness he felt boiled to the surface as he fell to his knees, sobbing as he looked up at the sky. Sheila knelt beside him and held him tightly.

“It’s okay, David. Let it out,” she coaxed.

As David sat and sobbed, Sheila held him as he worked to compose himself. “I’m sorry, Sheila. I don’t want anyone to know what’s really going on inside of me.”

“I know, and that’s no way to go through life. Let me show you something.” She took his hand, and after a moment, they were in a different place. The two of them flew over fields of people; tens of thousands of them.

“Do you see those people, David?”

“Who are they?” he asked, marveling at how they had traveled.

“They’re the people you’ve saved throughout your life. And not only those, the children they had, and the families you saved. You’ve touched hundreds of thousands of people.”

Another moment and they were back in the field, sitting together. “That’s a neat trick,” David said, cracking a small smile.

“Yeah, it’s interesting,” she answered with a grin.

“Why are you showing me all of this?”

“Because you have miles to go, David Cohen. Because God needs you. You have a purpose in His plan. You have to answer the call,” she said, caressing his hands.

“Somebody else can answer that call. I’ve fought the good fight.”

“If you abandon your post, why would anyone else stand and fight?” Sheila asked. “You’re the hero of Canaan. The man that defeated Seville. If you quit now, you will doom us all to darkness for ten generations. You don’t get to quit, David. You’ve never quit in your life. The David Cohen I loved never quits.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

“I gave my life for the cause. All you have to do is live for the cause.”

“I don’t know how to keep going, Sheila.”

“One day at a time, one step at a time.”

“That sounds a bit trite.”

“I won’t deny that,” she said with a smile. “But it’s still true. It’s how I kept going. Now it’s your turn. I’ll be here watching out for you. God is with you. He is your protector, He will support you, and He will fight for all of us as long as we humble ourselves and call on His name.”

David looked down, fighting through waves of emotion. At the core of his soul, he knew she was right. There was a fight to wage, not just of the Terran Coalition against the League of Sol, but of good versus evil. Maybe she was right; maybe there was a higher power that supported evil and opposed God. That wasn’t something that David could figure out today.

“It’s going to take me a while to put aside the hate for the League and Seville.”

“But you’re going to try, aren’t you?” Sheila said.

“I am, but I’m going to give it to HaShem. Because He can do immeasurably more than I ever can,” David said with a smile.

Sheila stood and helped David up as well. “And that is the David Cohen I know and love.”

“As for the rest, I’ll keep fighting until I can fight no more.”

“I’ll be here when you arrive someday,” she said softly to him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Knowing my luck, I’ll still be single.”

Sheila laughed. “I very much hope that’s not the case. You deserve to be loved while you’re in this universe. Besides, you cook a good steak. Men that can cook are a hot commodity.”

It was David’s turn to laugh, and then smile sadly. “I miss you so much.”

After a moment, Sheila leaned in and kissed him passionately. “I miss you too, David. Until we meet again someday. I love you.”

David woke up with a start in his bed. He jerked up so quickly, he nearly hit his head. Sitting there for a few minutes, he remembered every detail from the dream. Or was it something more? He couldn’t be sure. It felt so real, and now it’s like a memory of something that actually happened. As he lay back down, he didn’t sleep the rest of the night. Going over and savoring every moment with Sheila, he felt like the weight of the world had been lifted off him and that something very dark was gone from his heart. Realizing that he finally had some measure of peace, he prayed repeatedly that God would forgive him and bless his soul. Resolving to find a way to exorcise the hate from his soul, he spent the rest of the night praying and thinking on how to grow into the man Sheila told him he could be.

* * *

Following the conclusion of his normal morning ritual, David resolved to visit Dr. Tural to try to make sense of what he had experienced the night before. He was not quite sure what had happened, but upon the reflection of the rest of the night, he was sure it was something more than simply a dream. Tugging his duty sweater down, he strode into the medical bay, which was empty at 0600. Walking through the quiet facility, he made his way to Dr. Tural’s office to find the doctor behind his desk. He knocked on the open hatch frame to announce himself. “Good morning, Doctor. May I come in?”

Tural stood from his desk. “Of course, Colonel. How may I help you today?”

David stepped into the room and closed the hatch behind him. “I need to discuss something with you, Doctor.” He paused for a moment, suddenly realizing that whatever he talked over with the doctor might end up in his personnel file. “But before I do, I need your word this will not go into my medical record.”

Tural raised an eyebrow. “I’m not sure I can make a blanket promise to that effect, Colonel, if whatever you share with me impacts your ability to command this ship.”

“I’m certain you’ve noticed my…cold, emotional state the last few days.”

“I’d be lying to you if I said I hadn’t, Colonel. You’ve absorbed a great deal of emotional trauma. I would strongly recommend you visit a counselor.”

David pursed his lips, considering what he was about to say. “Doctor, I had an experience last night, one that I can’t explain. I was hoping you could help me understand it.”

“If I can, I will. What happened?”

For the next ten minutes, David explained to Tural what he believed was the vision he received the night before. “In conclusion, Doctor, I’ve never had a dream like that in my life. It was like I was really there, like it actually happened.”

Tural wore a questioning yet inscrutable look on his face during David’s entire explanation, rarely interrupting. “Colonel, if I may…I’m not sure what use I can be to you. While the Quran quite clearly states that dreams can be authentic messages from Allah…I’m not sure what you’re looking for from me.”

“I was hoping you could run some tests on my brain and tell me if I’m okay, Doctor.”

“I can run a baseline scan of your brain easily, but I’m not sure what I’d be looking for,”

“Let’s just make sure it’s in good working order, then,” David replied with a smile.

Tural stood and gestured to the door. “Very well. Let’s get you onto an examination bed.”

After he led David over to the bed, it took a few minutes for the scan to be completed. He had to sit completely still and wait for the laser to pass back and forth over his head several times. At the conclusion of the scan, they returned to Tural’s office. Tural pulled the scan images up on his personal tablet and reviewed them.

He looked up at David. “I will admit, these results are interesting, Colonel.” He turned the tablet around and showed it to him. Pointing to a specific section, he continued. “Do you see this here? That’s your hippocampus, or the portion of the brain that governs much of the memory functions.”

David looked at the image; he had no idea what he was looking at. “You must forgive me, Doctor. I have no idea why that image would be interesting to you.”

“Of course… well, see how it’s lighting up? That indicates that you’ve made many new memories. That’s not something I would expect to see after you were asleep most of the night having a dream.”

David furrowed his brow. “Does that mean you see some evidence to back up the idea that it wasn’t just a dream?”

Tural shook his head. “Colonel, I’d be lying to you if I said there was irrefutable scientific evidence that you had what amounts to an out-of-body spiritual experience.” He spread his hands. “Is the fact that you seem to have made a lot of memories the last few hours interesting? Yes. Does it point to possibly something happening with you that can’t be readily explained based on what you’ve told me? Yes. Ultimately, only you will be able to decide what happened. You’ll have to accept it on faith or not at all.”

David nodded and sat silently for a moment. “What do you think happened?” he asked, searching for some level of validation.

“From the perspective of my role as the chief medical officer on this ship, Colonel…nothing happened,” Tural replied. “If I were to step back and simply evaluate what you’ve told me against the available evidence and combined with my faith in Allah, I believe something happened to you. Was it a dream? Something more? I don’t know. If we accept that God speaks to us, who is to say that he didn’t speak to you last night? Perhaps your subconscious mind gave you a much-needed emotional boost. The end result is the same. You have to decide for yourself as to your interpretation of it.”

David sat back in the chair. “Thank you, Doctor,” he said, beginning to rise.

“I see no reason for this to go into your medical record, Colonel.”

“Thank you for that.”

“Anytime, Colonel. Godspeed.”

* * *

Deciding that he needed some quiet time with God, David made his way to the shul onboard the Lion. He donned his yarmulke and his tallit gadol, or prayer shawl, before entering. Rabbi Kravitz greeted him immediately. “Colonel, it’s been a few days. Did you forget about Shabbat?” Kravitz asked, mirth in his voice.

David shook his head. “I’m sorry, Rabbi. The last couple of days have been…challenging for me.” As he spoke, he walked over to a pew and sat down; Kravitz followed and sat with him.

“In such times, you must turn to God,” Kravitz said.

“I realize in times such as these, Rabbi…I’m not a great Jew.”

Kravitz laughed. “And who is a great Jew? Certainly not me.”

“Rabbi, when Sheila was killed…”

“You wondered where God was?”

Looking down at his hands, David nodded. “Yes.”

“What about now?”

David looked up and directly into Kravitz’s eyes. “I think that Sheila came to me in a dream or a vision last night. And I think that God let her.”

A questioning look washed over Kravitz’s face. “That’s quite a feat, Colonel.”

“I realize it sounds crazy. I have no evidence to support that idea except Doctor Tural found I have large amounts of new memories in my hippocampus.”

“Does Dr. Tural believe you had a vision?”

“Medically speaking? No. There is no proof either way. He told me I have to accept it on faith or not at all.”

Kravitz nodded. “What happened in your dream?”

David explained from beginning to end the dream/vision he experienced, sharing almost all of the details with the exception of Sheila’s declaration of love for him and his for her. “It was more real than any dream I’ve ever had. It was like I was there.”

“God certainly has visited us in dreams since the beginning of our history,” Kravitz said. “Do you believe it was a vision from God, David?”

“Yes.”

“Then I believe it was as well. A man like you isn’t taken to flights of fancy. I think a more important question is, what are you going to do with it?”

“Fight the good fight. Without hate in my heart.”

Kravitz put his arm around David’s shoulders. “Would you allow me to pray with you, David?”

David nodded his assent and Kravitz began. “Blessed are you, Lord our God, King of the Universe, who bestows good things upon the unworthy and has bestowed upon me every goodness.”

David immediately recognized the prayer for surviving danger. He spoke the traditional reply. “Amen. He who has bestowed upon you every goodness, may He continue to bestow upon you every goodness. Selah.”

“Lord our God, King of the Universe, bless this man,” Kravitz continued. “Grant him courage, wisdom, and give him good counsel. Show him the path, and do not allow him to venture from it. Amen.”

“Amen,” David said. “Thank you, Rabbi.”

“I will leave to your prayers and meditation,” Kravitz said, standing up.

David inclined his head in acknowledgement as the older man walked off to comfort another member of the congregation. Bowing his head, he prayed for the next fifteen minutes, closing with the prayer that was traditional to him: God, if it is your will, spare the lives of my crew and allow them to return safely to their families. After finishing that prayer, he stood and walked out of the shul, removing his prayer shawl and yarmulke.

Emerging from the shul and walking down the ship’s passageway back toward his office, David reflected on his feelings. From near emotional destruction twenty-four hours ago to being back to something of his former self now, he considered it nothing short of miraculous. Everything felt right again, he realized. While part of him was still sad, he wasn’t broken any longer. Smiling, he quickened his step; there was much to do and now was the time to do it.

* * *

David, Tinetariro, Ruth, and a robust honor guard consisting of both Marines and enlisted crewmembers from the Lion stood in an airlock on the starboard side of the ship. He’d received a notification thirty minutes prior that both President Spencer and Chief Minister Sherazi would be touring the Lion. As Ruth was busy adjusting her dress uniform, she looked over at David. “Sir, why’d they only give us thirty minutes’ notice? Trying to get everyone into the proper uniforms and at the airlock is practically impossible in that amount of time.”

David smirked. “Well, I could say that they just want to see if we could do it…but I suspect the real reason is security. Having the two heads of state of the Canaan Alliance in one place is a great risk.”

“We’re at Canaan’s main space station. This is literally the most secure location in Terran Coalition space.”

“Perhaps it is, Lieutenant. But no one is putting anything to chance after the events of the last week.”

Ruth peered at him for a moment. David could tell she was trying to figure out what had changed, as his entire attitude was different today. His shoulders were squared, he was smiling, and he didn’t look like a storm cloud.

David felt his personal tablet vibrate and pulled it out of his uniform, staring at the screen for a moment. “Okay, look alive, ladies and gents. They’ll be here momentarily.”

Tinetariro performed a final inspection of the enlisted crew’s uniforms. David watched her expertly fix several errors with the practice that only came from thirty years in the service. While some might question why that was so important to her, he knew from his brief interactions with the master chief so far was that to her it was simply a matter of respect, and if the President of the Terran Coalition was going to walk onboard their vessel, she’d make sure it was perfect.

David got one more vibration on his personal communicator, an alert that the president, chief minister, and their respective entourage were entering the air lock. “Master Chief, here they come,” he announced. The security detail for both heads of state strode through the open hatch, followed closely by President Spencer and Chief Minister Sherazi.

“Attention on deck!” David announced with the practiced voice of command. Immediately, the honor guard and Ruth snapped to a stiff attention posture. Tinetariro trilled her bosun’s pipe, serving to “pipe” the dignitaries aboard.

“Permission to come aboard, Colonel?” President Spencer asked of David.

“Granted, sir.”

“I’ve been looking forward to seeing this ship fully operational for some time, Colonel Cohen. That it has performed so well is beyond our wildest hopes and dreams.”

David pursed his lips. “Regardless of the tragedy of the last few days, sir, we do have much to be thankful for. I consider this vessel to be a marvel, both in its technology and in the ability of its crew. No one could ask for a better team.”

Spencer smiled. “Glad to hear it, Colonel. Have you met Chief Minister Sherazi?”

Sherazi took a step forward and extended his arm to David. “Greetings, Colonel.”

David took the outstretched hand and shook it firmly. “Chief Minister, welcome aboard.”

General MacIntosh and another Saurian male, who wore a CDF uniform, walked through the open hatch, followed by the last members of the security detail.

At the sight of MacIntosh, David stiffened once more. “General,” he said formally.

“At ease, everyone,” MacIntosh ordered. Looking at David, he addressed him directly. “Colonel Cohen. Permission to come aboard?”

“Granted, sir.”

“Please allow me to introduce Lieutenant Colonel Talgat Aibek, the first member of the Coalition Defense Force and Royal Saurian Navy officer exchange program that our governments agreed to this morning.”

He took a step forward and extended his hand to Aibek, who extended his own hand and shook David’s hand firmly. David took a couple of seconds to size him up; like all Saurians, he was taller than an average human. The scales atop his head were particularly colorful. He appeared to have powerful and well-defined muscles, and there was an array of campaign ribbons on his uniform David did not recognize.

“Welcome aboard, Colonel.” As he continued to process Aibek, he realized that the XO’s position on the Lion was technically a billet for a Lieutenant Colonel. Was this his new XO? For just a moment, David felt the bile rise in him and the thought too soon ran through his head.

MacIntosh cleared his throat. “Let’s begin the tour, Colonel Cohen.”

“Yes, sir,” David said crisply. He turned to Tinetariro. “Master Chief, the honor guard is dismissed.”

“Yes, sir! Company, dismissed!” Tinetariro ordered. The group of crewmembers melted away, leaving David and Ruth to conduct the tour. Over the next couple of hours, he led them through the Lion. Starting with the massive engineering space, he found himself impressed by the questions President Spencer asked about the anti-matter reactor. They also toured the hangar bay and the bridge.

Ending up in the wardroom, David, MacIntosh, Aibek, and the two heads of space sat down while the security details took up positions outside, save for a single agent from both governments.

After pleasantries and chitchat had been dispensed with, MacIntosh got down to business. “As I’m sure everyone here is acutely aware, our new alliance brings with it many logistical concerns. Not the least of which is how do we tightly integrate two separate militaries.”

“Not unlike the issues the Terran Coalition had fully integrating most nation-state militaries into the Coalition Defense Force at the outbreak of hostilities with the League,” David said.

“Exactly, Colonel. Only this is harder because we’re two separate species who do things very differently.”

President Spencer gestured between David and Aibek. “The reason you two are here, Colonel Cohen and Colonel Aibek… is we want you to set the standard for integration between the Terran Coalition and Saurian Empire. To help set that standard, Colonel Aibek is being assigned as the XO for the Lion of Judah.”

David nodded his understanding. “Yes, sir.” Well, I was right about that part at least. Hopefully, this guy is a good officer who will integrate well into the crew and work seamlessly with me.

MacIntosh stared at David and Aibek with a gaze that seemed to bore into David’s mind. “I want to be perfectly clear here. This has to work. For the sake of both our nations. We’re going to have one chance and one chance only to push the League back before they send their own reinforcements. The only thing in our favor right now is our supply lines are far shorter than theirs. As the first Saurian serving on a CDF capital ship, Colonel Aibek, it’s your duty to show the way.”

Aibek replied with a crisp, “Yes, sir.”

Sherazi leaned forward in his chair. “If the two of you can work effectively together, it will show the rest of us the way. We’re all counting on you.”

David and Aibek exchanged glances before David spoke. “Sirs, I think I speak for myself and for Colonel Aibek when I say that we’re going to make this work. The League is an evil that needs to be pushed back and defeated. With our combined strength, that goal is within reach. It will not be derailed because of personality conflicts.” He paused for a moment, thinking he might have been too forward. “I hope that wasn’t too direct, Colonel.”

“Not at all, Colonel. I am certain I can adjust to your command style, whatever it may be. And if we have any issues… I would welcome a sparring match to clear the air in any human martial art form you would care to choose.”

David glanced at Aibek for a moment, not even sure what to make of his statement. Aibek, on seeing his reaction, tried to clear up the confusion. “I jest, Colonel.”

David cracked a smile. “Noted.”

MacIntosh looked somewhat amused himself. “That settles it, then. We’re going to make this work. Then we’re going to kick the League’s ass back to Earth and take out those communist bastards once and for all.”

“Now that’s a sentiment I can get behind despite the language, Andrew,” President Spencer said, smiling himself. “Andrew, Chief Minister, any final thoughts?”

Sherazi shook his head. “None. I have confidence the right officers are assigned to this ship.”

President Spencer stood, quickly followed by everyone else; the meeting was close to being adjourned. “Colonel, I wish you good luck and Godspeed. Carry on.”

“Yes, sir, thank you, sir,” David quickly responded. “Perhaps Colonel Aibek could stay behind? I’d be happy to show him around some of the other areas of the ship, like the mess.”

“Excellent idea, Colonel. I’ll show our guests back to the shuttle. Godspeed to you both,” MacIntosh replied.

After the two heads of state and General MacIntosh had left, David turned to Aibek. “I realize we don’t know each other well. To summarize how I do things…I am tough, but fair. I want the best of this crew and this ship, and most of all, I want to defeat the League so that someday, perhaps we don’t have to get up every morning and kill our fellow man.”

Aibek seemed lost in thought for a moment before responding to David. “That is a burden I do not relish, Colonel Cohen. I hope my presence here can be positive. I will strive to the best of my ability to serve well as your executive officer.”

David resolved to take Aibek at his word; after all, MacIntosh wouldn’t have assigned him if there were any doubt in his mind about the Saurian’s abilities or effectiveness. “I have no doubt of that, Colonel. Now, if you’d follow me, let me show you some things about this ship that aren’t on the main tour.”

Aibek smiled and walked around the table. “Lead on, sir.”

* * *

Sometime later, onboard the shuttle that carried President Spencer and General MacIntosh back to Canaan, President Spencer called MacIntosh into his private office. The shuttle was designated “Coalition Defense Force One,” while Spencer was onboard. It was outfitted with the latest defensive technologies that centered around stealth. The craft also carried enough communications and command and control gear to run the war if required.

MacIntosh strode through the door into the Presidential office and brought himself to attention before the desk President Spencer sat behind. “General MacIntosh, reporting as ordered, sir.”

“Andrew, when are you going to relax with that?” Spencer asked with a smile on his face.

“Mr. President, it’s a matter of habit. Respect for the office. Even if we are old friends.”

“I understand,” Spencer said as he stood up from behind the desk and walked around, gesturing at the two chairs in front of the desk. “Please, have a seat.”

MacIntosh sat in the chair furthest from Spencer; Spencer then sat in the vacant seat. “What’s on your mind, sir?” he asked.

“I wanted to ask you about our young Colonel Cohen. I’ve heard some disturbing reports regarding his mental stability.”

MacIntosh looked away. “I can’t begin to know how he, or many other soldiers, continue to function in this war, sir. He seemed fine to me today.”

“I’ll agree that today he seemed fine, but he was clearly not fine earlier this week.”

“You realize that probably every member of the space corps that’s seen battle has some form of PTSD, sir?”

“Andrew, this is the biggest, best ship in our fleet. We can’t afford any screw-ups. Is he battle-ready?”

MacIntosh made eye contact with Spencer; the discussion forced him to confront a reality he didn’t want to face. David Cohen was the best man for the job, he was sure of it. His emotional state was another question, on the other hand. “I’m not sure, sir.”

“I want you to figure that out. Talk to him. If he is, then fine. God knows that young man has earned his stripes, and by any measure, he’s a hero. I can think of no one else I’d rather have leading us into battle with this wondrous new ship. But if he’s not emotionally stable, then we’re going to have to quietly make sure he gets the help he needs and put another CO in place. Quickly.”

“I understand, sir,” MacIntosh said, sorrow in his voice.

“Andrew, please know that’s the last thing I want.”

MacIntosh nodded in response. “Yes, sir. It’s the last thing I want either, because I don’t think we can win without Colonel Cohen commanding the Lion of Judah. What that ship did to Seville and the Destruction will inspire fear in the League, and that fear will be worth more than fifty starships as reinforcements.”

“You put a lot of stock in morale.”

“Yes, I do. I’ve seen men and women accomplish things that no flesh and blood human had any right to, simply because they had belief in their cause, and they believed they could do what needed to be done. That kind of Esprit de Corps comes from good leadership, strong morale, and an unshakeable sense of duty.”

“Then for all our sakes, I hope that Colonel Cohen is ready for the task in front of him.” Spencer sighed. “Would you care to pray with me about this?”

MacIntosh nodded and bowed his head. Sometimes, he wasn’t sure God was even listening anymore. With all the strife, bloodshed, and horror in the universe that they contended with on a daily basis, it was easy to believe that God no longer controlled what happened or the events around them. He hoped that was wrong as he closed his eyes and waited for Spencer to pray.

43

David was ordered to report to General MacIntosh’s office at 0800 for what was referred to as a meeting by his adjutant. The suddenness of the order, and what David knew had been erratic, emotional behavior on his part the last few days, had him questioning what the subject matter would be. Truly, since the dream he had that felt more like a vision, he had begun to resolve his emotions and get his head back in the fight. David knew that the road ahead would be long and difficult, but he found himself looking forward to it.

After greeting Major Roberts, David was shown back to the now-familiar office of General MacIntosh. “Colonel David Cohen, reporting as ordered, sir,” he said, bracing to attention.

MacIntosh looked up from his tablet. “Take a seat, Colonel.”

As David sat down, MacIntosh put his tablet aside and stared directly into his eyes. “I’ll cut to the chase, Colonel. I need to know your head is in the game.”

David returned the stare, keeping eye contact. “It is, sir. I’m ready to go.”

MacIntosh leaned back in his chair. “Really? Is that before or after you nearly assaulted an enlisted man for following procedures regarding repatriation of our war dead?”

David winced. I guess somebody reported that. “Sir, I wanted the contractors that perished to be treated with honor and respect. They earned it. If not for them, I wouldn’t be here, nor would my ship.”

“I see. You were also observed crying uncontrollably at Major Thompson’s funeral.”

David continued to stare straight ahead. “With respect, sir, I lost my best friend. I believe that an emotional reaction was warranted.”

MacIntosh frowned. “I didn’t say it wasn’t, Colonel. But considering these and other reports… I have reservations as to if you are in the right state of mind to get back into the war.”

“I’ve been able to put most of it behind me the last few days, sir.”

“Have you seen a counselor?” MacIntosh probed.

“No, sir.”

“Then how have you been able to put it behind you in a couple of days?”

“Sir, that is a personal matter,” David said, not wishing to discuss his dream.

“Not good enough, Colonel. If you want back into space without a full mental health workup, I want details.”

David swallowed hard and sighed. “Very well, sir.” He paused for a moment. How do I explain this without sounding insane? “Several nights ago, I had a dream that was vividly real. It felt like something that actually happened as opposed to simply being a dream.”

As David spoke, MacIntosh stared at him with an inscrutable look on his face. “In it, I had a long conversation with Sheila. She told me why she did what she did, and she assured me that there was a better place after all of this.” He decided to leave out the part about her leaving the video for him or their discussions regarding their love for each other.

“When I woke up the next morning, it was as if something dark was lifted off me. I visited Dr. Tural to discuss the matter with him.”

MacIntosh’s right eyebrow shot up. “And?”

“He told me that he found evidence in a scan of my brain that showed increased mental activity consistent with a fresh memory, but there was no scientific evidence that was conclusive either way.”

“An interesting story, Colonel. What do you think happened?”

“I think that somehow, some way, Sheila reached out to me from what we think of as heaven. I realize that sounds a bit insane, sir. But I think she wanted me to get my head screwed back on straight. I also…” David trailed off for a moment. “I also think that maybe God let her to do it to get my head screwed back on straight.” He looked at MacIntosh, waiting for a response and unsure of his fate.

“I see, Colonel,” MacIntosh replied and stood up, walking around his desk to sit in the chair next to David. “I don’t mention my faith too much. I’m a practicing Catholic.” He cracked a smile. “Which, for someone of Scottish descent, is a bit different. Causes debates at family reunions.”

MacIntosh continued with his train of thought. “When I was still a young man, I served as an engineering officer on a light cruiser called the Pericles. I’ll never forget something that happened on that ship. During a battle, one of our primary coolant lines ruptured and a damage control team tried to seal it. Radiation levels got high enough that the computer system automatically sealed the compartment. We desperately tried to get the door open to get those men out before they died, but every tool we had broke down and we couldn’t get in.”

MacIntosh paused for a moment as he relived the memory. “The chaplain on the Pericles was an old Catholic priest…Father Rafferty. He happened to be assigned to a damage control team in the engineering spaces and he came up to us while we were swearing, banging on the door, trying to cut it with a plasma cutter, and anything else we could think of. He asked us to let him pray with us.”

David listened intently as MacIntosh continued.

“We all held hands with him, and I will never forget the feeling that washed over me as this priest asked God to help us. I heard him say that we would become calm, that our tools would begin to function, and that we would rescue those men. A feeling of peace came over me that I have never felt before or since. After he was done, we tried again. We had those men out in less than five minutes, and every last one of them survived.”

David noticed MacIntosh had become emotional as he spoke of this past memory. “I am sure that some people would tell me that it was just random chance and we got lucky. But I know with every fiber of my being that somehow, through Father Rafferty, God helped us save those men. If you believe that God helped you by letting your best friend explain something to you from beyond the grave…then I’ll back that one hundred and fifty percent.”

“Thank you, sir.”

MacIntosh put his hand on David’s shoulder. “You are a fine officer, Colonel Cohen. You have a lot left to give to this fight and I need you in it. All of you.”

“I’m in it, sir. To the end, regardless of where that takes us,” David said, his voice filled with confidence.

“Then get your ship ready to get back out there. We need to fly the flag for a few more days, but after that…you will be back on the front.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Dismissed, Colonel.”

David came to attention before leaving the room, looking at MacIntosh in an entirely different light.

* * *

David had a meeting with Dr. Hayworth in his office set for 1400 hours’ shipboard time. Looking at the clock on his tablet, he wondered if Hayworth was just one of those people that were always late or if he was doing it on purpose to spite him.

Around fifteen minutes after the hour, the door chime buzzed. “Come,” David said, annoyance in his voice.

The hatch swung open and Dr. Hayworth strode in, plopping into one of the chairs in front of David’s desk. “Greetings, Colonel. How are you today?” he asked cheerfully.

“I’m well, Doctor, thank you for asking.”

“I’m sure you’ve heard by now that Major Merriweather and I have been assigned to the Lion of Judah for the foreseeable future.”

“I have,” David said, failing to hide the annoyance in his voice. He figured that Hayworth would have been disappointed by this, but for whatever reason, the doctor seemed to relish it.

“Oh, come now, Colonel. This will be fun.”

“I don’t follow, Doctor. I don’t like being responsible for civilians that haven’t served and don’t know how to handle themselves on a military vessel. I remind you…we’re at war.”

Hayworth just smiled. “I’m what you would call a force multiplier, Colonel. I’ll ensure you get the best technology and the newest equipment.”

David suppressed the desire to roll his eyes at Hayworth. The man just got under his skin; there was no doubt about it. “Well, anything to make this ship more effective than it already is, Doctor.”

“Was that a compliment, Colonel?”

“I’ve never doubted your technical abilities, Doctor.” David forced a thin smile.

“Oh, I figured you would tell me that God provided the technology from on high.”

David took a breath. “I think that God gives us the mental abilities that we use to make the technology, Doctor.”

Hayworth leaned forward. “Let me let you in on a secret, Colonel. There is no God. I’m just a freak of nature with a high intelligence quotient, and you have me to thank for saving your ass out there.”

David stared at Hayworth, unwilling to back down. “Only a fool says there is no God, Doctor.”

“Ah yes, isn’t that line from the Psalms?” Hayworth inquired.

“Yes, it is. Have you read the Torah?”

Hayworth’s expression took on a hard stare. “I was raised an atheist by my parents, but my wife was a Christian. I’ve never had faith in anything but science, but once she asked me to read the Bible, and I agreed. Oh, she believed that God not only existed, but actually cared about her. Little good it did her when she got sick and medical science couldn’t save her. Where was that magical God then? He doesn’t exist. Do yourself a favor and accept that, Colonel. You’re a smart man. I’ve seen that. You shouldn’t concern yourself with fairy tales to keep the children behaving.”

David sucked in a breath. Perhaps the events in life the doctor had gone through had colored his views; that was somewhat easier for David to accept rather than the nonstop insults to those who believed coming from Hayworth. “Doctor, you will never shake my belief in God,” he said forcefully.

“Really…then why did your God let Major Thompson die?”

David felt Hayworth’s argument sting deep in his heart. “God didn’t let her die, Doctor. She made a choice to do what she believed in. She put another’s life ahead of her own. That’s what she believed she had to do.”

Hayworth smirked. “Ah, religious people try to have it two ways. Which is it? Do we have free will or does God have a plan and pull our strings?”

“Is it so hard to believe that HaShem has a desire for us to do certain things but chooses not to force us? From my perspective, why would a supernatural being with the power to do anything he desires force us to do his will? He wants us to choose to do right, Doctor.” David paused for a moment. “I must ask. If you dislike those of us who have faith as much as you would like to make me think...why are you here?”

Hayworth looked past him. “Tell me, Colonel, if you could, would you force me to believe what you do?”

A look of revulsion crossed David’s face. “Is that a serious question, Doctor? I would never force another to believe what I do. In fact, I would, and do, put my life on the line on a daily basis for your right to believe in anything you want, including nothing.”

Hayworth pursed his lips together in acceptance to David’s response. “And that is why I am here, Colonel. I may not agree with the stated beliefs of ninety-eight percent of the Terran Coalition’s citizens, but at least I’ve got the right to believe what I want and do what I want.”

David leaned back in his chair as Hayworth continued. “I’d like to ask you, though; do you ever question your beliefs? Do you ever consider that you may be wrong?” he asked.

“I have many times. I’ve questioned God’s existence, and why bad things happen to seemingly good people.”

“And?”

“I cannot find a more logical explanation for our existence than a creator. Are you familiar with ‘Pascal’s Wager’?” David asked, referencing the work of Blaise Pascal, who created an argument that humans bet with their lives that God either exists or does not exist.

Hayworth raised a hand. “Colonel, just as I cannot shake your belief, you cannot shake mine.”

“Fair enough, Doctor. A counter question… do you ever question your beliefs?”

Hayworth regarded David for a moment. “Every day, Colonel. Every day.” He stood to leave. “For all our sakes, Colonel, if your supernatural being does exist, I hope it’s behind you. I’ll do what I can to give you the best tools possible in the meanwhile. I trust you will use them to the best of your ability.”

“Of course, Doctor,” David grated out.

“Good day, Colonel.” Hayworth turned on his heel and walked out. Ruminating on what Hayworth had said, David thought back to how Sheila would have told him not to judge the man, but to offer him the benefit of the doubt. After understanding at least some of what drove the doctor’s beliefs, he now had some level of understanding of him and resolved to try not to let his annoyance show through. Thinking about how much he missed Sheila, he put himself back into reviewing reports.

44

David glanced around the set of the holonews program, a different channel from his last adventure in the media. Canaan News Network had an editorial viewpoint markedly different from his last interviewer’s take on the war, for which he was grateful. Even so, he wanted to be careful not to “spike the football,” so to speak. His emotions were still conflicted, but for the most part, he was back on a fairly even keel. More than anything, he wanted to get the public relations work out of the way and get back to what he knew had to be done; taking the war to the League.

Seated in the interview chair, David waited patiently for the interviewer, a holonet pundit by the name of Karen Byrne. As he waited, he ran over the talking points that General MacIntosh had drilled into him about the war, focusing on the entry of the Saurians and the rekindling of the Canaan Alliance.

After a few minutes, Byrne walked in, flashing an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting, Colonel. I had a last-minute change in the next guest that I had to prepare for.”

David stood and offered his hand. “No problem at all, ma’am.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, she took the offered hand and shook it with a grip that surprised David. “All ready?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Before we start, I’d like to say that, off the record, what you and your crew have done last week has given me and a lot of other people in the Terran Coalition hope that we can finally win this war.”

“That means a lot, Ms. Byrne. But the credit belongs to my crew, not me.”

“Please, call me Karen.” She smiled. “My interview notes said you were humble. That’s a nice trait, Colonel, but let me give you some advice…you’re a hero. Own it. If for no other reason than it helps our cause to have a hero, especially right now.”

“I’m not a hero,” David said, sadness lacing his voice. “The real heroes were the men and women that returned home in flag-draped caskets.”

She leaned forward and touched his arm. “Yes, they are, Colonel. You must remember the citizens of our country need a real live, larger-than-life hero. Not only do you fit the bill, but you just might be the real thing. I’ve heard you say that you serve because of a desire to be part of something bigger than yourself. So, if for no other reason than to honor the rest of your crew, own this moment. All of us need it. We need to believe again. Almost all of us, I’m sure even you, had begun to accept that someday the League would win.”

“I think I did, Karen,” David said. “But that didn’t mean we weren’t going to make them pay for every inch in blood.” He offered her a rueful smile.

“Ready to get started, Colonel?”

“Let’s do this,” he said, immensely more relaxed than the last time he had been in a similar chair.

Byrne motioned to the director of the studio. “Take us live,” she said with her trademark warm smile.

David sat back in his chair as the director counted down the time to live. At three seconds, he switched to hand signals and went silent.

“This is Karen Byrne, reporting for Canaan News Network. I am joined tonight by a special guest, Colonel David Cohen, Commanding Officer of the CSV Lion of Judah. Thank you for joining us, Colonel.”

“Thank you for having me, Ms. Byrne.”

“It has been a momentous week for the Coalition, Colonel,” she said. “How does it feel to be the son of the man that saved Canaan, and now, who also saved Canaan himself?”

David pursed his lips. “Just doing my job to the best of my ability.”

“Thankfully for the Coalition, that was enough to defeat Admiral Seville and his armada. You lost a close friend, didn’t you?”

David swallowed hard. “I did.”

“Can you tell our viewers about her?”

“Major Thompson was the best friend a person could ever ask for. She lived for the cause, and she would lay down her life for another without a moment’s hesitation. She’d give the shirt off her back to someone who didn’t have one or her last credit to a food drive. She lived what she believed,” David explained with pride.

“I know we’ve all lost someone in this war. I’ve literally never met someone in the Terran Coalition who was untouched by it. That said; I understand this loss was deeply personal to you.”

“Yes, it was. Sheila and I met each other a few days into boot camp twenty years ago. You make bonds during that period that last for life. I can still hear my drill instructor yelling at me,” David said with a trace of a smile. “But I have an obligation, as do all of us who have lost someone, to carry on. Otherwise, their deaths are in vain.”

“And now the Saurians have joined our side…how do you think that’s going to help the Coalition?” Byrne asked, sticking to a line of questioning agreed upon ahead of time with the military.

“I think it’s going to change the course of the war. The Saurians have a fleet that is roughly the same size as our own. They’ve pledged to send seventy percent of it to join us in the fight against the League. I believe we will push the League out of our space and throw them on their heels,” David said with conviction. It wasn’t just one of his provided talking points by MacIntosh; he believed it.

“Do you believe we can ultimately win the war?”

“Yes, not only can we win the war, we will win the war. The Terran Coalition and our allies must win. If we don’t, it will plunge our galaxy into a dark age.”

Sitting back in her chair for a moment, Byrne paused before asking, “And how do we win, Colonel?”

David hesitated for a moment, remembering the order he received from MacIntosh not to over editorialize. “I think we’ve all heard the saying that might makes right; in our case, I believe that right makes might. In terms of combat, we now have the initiative. We, being the entire Coalition Defense Force and the Saurian Imperial Navy, will take the fight to the League and drive them back. The thing is, we have to keep the initiative and press forward. We cannot lose sight of the end goal, the destruction of the League of Sol.”

“Why not simply force a peace with them?”

“If that is what our civilian leaders desire, then that’s what we will do, ma’am. But President Spencer has been clear that he believes the League is an evil that must be destroyed, and I couldn’t agree with him more. As for my part, I recall the words of a soldier many hundreds of years ago that pledged he would fight, he would sacrifice, and he would act as if the outcome of the entire war rested solely on him. I ask that of myself and of those who I command.”

Byrne regarded David for a moment. “Thank you, Colonel. I believe you’ve painted a picture for our viewers of where things are now. Can you say what the next destination for the Lion of Judah is?”

David smiled. “Shakedown cruise for us for the next three months, then on to the front.”

“I’m sure you will be anxious to get back into the fight, Colonel. Good hunting and Godspeed.”

David nodded his head as the on-the-air light blinked off. He relaxed in his chair. That wasn’t too bad, especially considering the last time I was in the interview chair.

“Thank you for joining me, Colonel. It was an honor to meet you and regardless of what you say, I, and most of the Terran Coalition, view you as a hero. Thank you for your service.”

David stood as she did and offered his hand. “Just doing my job but thank you.”

Byrne smiled and shook his hand. “Then keep on doing it, Colonel. Hopefully, I’ll get to interview you after we drive the League from our space. I look forward to the day.”

“Me too. Until then, Godspeed, Karen.”

“Godspeed, Colonel.”

Turning away from her, David walked out of the studio and made his way outside, heading back to the ship. While he didn’t care for the clear propaganda use of his ship, his crew, and himself, he understood why it had to be done. Morale had been weak for years, and the people needed a symbol to help them believe again. If that were his crew, his ship, and himself, well, all of them would have to live up to that standard.

Walking down the street of the busy capital city on Canaan, David could tell even now that something had changed. The way people talked to each other, looked at one another, and even walked down the sidewalks had changed. There was purpose in their steps, smiles back on their faces, and they seemed to have hope again. And if there was hope, anything was possible.

45

After the ship had been fully provisioned and made ready to launch a few days after his final interview, David held his final command briefing before the ship was due to depart. Arriving nearly twenty minutes before the meeting was to commence, he sat in the chair at the end of the table. Thinking over the events of the last two weeks, he was in some ways in awe of what had transpired, and in other ways simply dumbfounded any of them had survived.

The ship’s senior officers began to arrive, and after standing, he greeted each one and offered his hand. As the last member of the invited party entered the room, David took his place at the head of the table.

“Thank you all for coming. I wanted to gather one last time today to talk over our orders, ensure all departments have what they need for the coming few weeks, and that we’re ready to go,” David stated as he took control of the room.

Ruth, Hanson, Demood, and Tinetariro nodded; the others looked at David intently.

“I would also like to welcome two new members of our crew: Lieutenant Colonel Talgat Aibek of the Saurian Imperial Navy, and Kenneth Lowe from SSI, who is leading the four hundred contractors that will be joining us for the foreseeable future to keep our ship fully operational.”

Kenneth pursed his lips, and Aibek interjected, “Thank you, Colonel Cohen. It is an honor to be a part of this crew. I know that you all suffered a great loss from the death of Major Thompson. I will endeavor in some small way to live up to her standard.”

David paused for a moment to compose himself. While he was in a much better place, the wound from his loss was still raw. “Thank you, Colonel.”

Turning his gaze to Hanson and Merriweather, David asked, “Major Hanson, what is our engineering readiness?”

Hanson looked at Merriweather for a moment before clearing his throat. “The reactor is as ready as we can make it, sir. Major Merriweather and Doctor Hayworth believe that the reactor is fully combat capable.”

“I have concerns, Major, that the lack of a shakedown cruise will cause small glitches to manifest at the most inopportune times.”

“That’s not an unreasonable concern, sir,” Merriweather replied. “We’ve taken steps to reduce the risk by stockpiling spare parts for every conceivable critical system.”

Kenneth spoke up. “If I may, sirs, ma’am?”

At David’s signal, Kenneth spoke. “We’ve filled four of the six major cargo bays with spare parts, focusing on weapons, defensive systems including damage control, as well as propulsion. I’m confident there’s enough to sustain us through a three-month deployment.”

David relaxed slightly. We’re not out of the woods, but Kenneth’s got a good plan. “Very well. Colonel Amir, what is our flight wing status?”

Amir cleared his throat. “Sir, we have all sixteen squadrons onboard along with munitions and parts for a sustained campaign.” He paused for a moment. “There is one concern, however. Our squadrons are pulled from several different carriers, and two are filled with raw recruits. There will be some amount of time required to form them into a cohesive fighting unit.”

Aibek raised an eyebrow. “We only have two weeks before we begin our counter-offensive.”

With that comment, the rest of the eyes in the room locked on to him, including David.

“That information is eyes only, Colonel,” David said. I wasn’t going to discuss that with Kenneth in the room; he’s got no need to know. “It does not leave this room under any circumstances. Command has been careful to allow leaks that would suggest we’ve got at least three months before we start pushing back.” David made a special point to look at Kenneth. “Mr. Lowe, please remember the terms of your non-disclosure agreement.”

Kenneth looked back at David uneasily. “I didn’t hear anything, sir.”

David smiled. “Very good.” After a moment, he continued, “Weapons status, Lieutenant Goldberg?”

Ruth held her head up and sat straighter in her chair. “All damage to our magnetic cannons has been repaired, and all weapon systems are fully operational. We also have made some changes to our shield distribution network, thanks to suggestions made by the contractor team. They analyzed the logs of shield generator failures and devised a way to cross connect quadrants. I believe we’ll see better performance in our next engagement.”

“We also made some adjustments to our sub-light engines and thruster systems, sir. Combined with the shield enhancements, it will make the ship a tougher nut to crack,” Hammond said.

“Outstanding work, Lieutenant Goldberg, Lieutenant Hammond.”

David turned his head toward Dr. Tural. “Doctor, have you been able to get the rest of the medical personnel you asked for transferred in?”

“Yes, sir. We now have our full medical personnel complement, including a dentist and a counselor.”

David glanced at Tinetariro for his next question. “Master Chief, how are we doing on crew morale and readiness?”

Tinetariro smiled thinly. “The enlisted personnel are shipshape and ready to go, sir. We have a full crew, full stores, and we’re ready to fight.”

“And morale?” David pressed.

“Quite frankly, sir, I’ve never seen morale higher. The ratings want to, pardon the term, kick some ass.”

There were assorted smiles and grins from the assembled group, but it was Calvin who spoke. “It’s almost like we got a ship crewed by Marines.”

There was laughter and chuckles from all present. “Thank you, Master Chief,” David said. Turning to Calvin, he posed his next question. “Colonel Demood, what of our Marine contingent?”

Calvin broke into a grin. “All three thousand Marines onboard and awaiting to be ferried to our next engagement zone.”

“Oh, so we’re just the ferry service now?” Ruth said, her arms crossed in front of her but wearing a playful smile.

“Lieutenant, we all know if you need something absolutely, positively blown apart, call the Marines,” Calvin answered, just a bit cocky in true Marine fashion.

“Or I could just fire enough fusion warheads into the target to reduce it to its constituent atoms,” Ruth said with her own evil grin.

“What about the special operations team?” David interrupted with a smile.

“Accounted for and ready to roll, sir. We technically have two spec ops troops onboard, as well as a company of special operations capable Recon Marines.”

“So we’re ready to roll?” David asked the room.

Heads nodded in agreement.

“Alright. We have two weeks of intensive, twenty-four-hour-a-day shakedown activities. After that, we will deploy with a battlegroup that includes the Royal Saurian Navy’s flagship, the RSN Elcin,” David announced. The Elcin was a large battleship that was purpose built with sixteen turrets of magnetic-cannons, and it was the pride of the Royal Saurian Navy.

“Our objective is to drive the League from our space and start pushing them back into their own sphere of influence.” Tapping a few buttons, David called up a map on the interactive hologram projector in the middle of the conference table. “As you can see, the League is currently engaged in combat operations in eleven Terran Coalition planetary systems and has occupied fully half of our outer rim colonies in the last ten years. With the reformation of the Canaan Alliance, with the Terran Coalition and the Saurian Empire as signatories, the Joint Chiefs of Staff have activated the old CA military structure. As such, the Supreme Allied Commander, Space Force will lead the joint Terran Coalition and Royal Saurian Navy fleets committed to the war effort.” David paused for a moment and pulled up another graphic, this one showing the chain of command from the SACSF flowing down from Supreme Headquarters, Allied Expeditionary Force. “Additionally, the Joint Chiefs and Royal Saurian Navy command have created the Supreme Headquarters, Allied Expeditionary Force. It’s pronounced shafe,” David said, using the phonetic pronunciation. “SHAEF will oversee the invasion of League space.” After a moment to let his words sink in, he asked, “Any questions?”

“How are we going to keep all that brass shiny and working well together, sir?” Calvin said lightly.

Feigning mock annoyance, Aibek shook his head. “By bashing heads together so everyone gets along.”

The humans stared at the Saurian for a few moments before he smiled. “I jest!”

Calvin commented dryly, “That’s some dry humor, Colonel.”

“The best kind!” Aibek quipped back.

“Okay, everyone, I hate overly long meetings, so that’s all I have. Any saved rounds?” David asked.

Ruth leaned forward. “Master Chief, any idea when we could get invited to the chief’s mess?”

Tinetariro turned and gave Ruth a glowering look. “With respect, ma’am, you have to wait for the invitation. You can’t ask for it.”

Kenneth took that moment to ask a question. “Ah, sirs, if I may, I was asked by members of my team if I could request that the former chiefs and above of the contracting team be allowed to eat at the chief’s mess?”

“The master chief has final say on that, Kenneth,” David said.

Tinetariro gave the contractor an appraising look. “I’ll allow anyone who retired as a chief petty officer or above to join us anytime, Mr. Lowe.”

“Thank you, ma’am. If I may… why is going to the chief’s mess so important to everyone?”

“Because the chiefs have the best food. They run the mess and cooking staff, and ensure they get the best food for themselves,” David said. “It’s called the goat locker.”

Ruth smirked. “You would know, sir, mustang and all.”

Tinetariro rolled her eyes at the conversation. “Tell you what, Mr. Lowe, join us tomorrow for dinner and see what it’s all about.”

“Wait a minute, you just invited a defense contractor to the chief’s mess, but not us?” Calvin exclaimed with mock annoyance.

Tinetariro gave him a faux smile. “Why, yes, sir.”

The entire group laughed aloud at the turn of events as David stood once more. “Okay, everyone. Let’s get to it. We shove off at 0800 tomorrow morning. I’ll see most of you on the bridge. You are dismissed. Godspeed.”

There was a chorus of “Yes, sirs” from the team as they stood and filed out of the room. Kenneth stayed behind, apparently waiting for a moment alone with David. He took notice and paused for the contractor. “Something on your mind, Kenneth?”

“I’ve been meaning to thank you, sir.”

David raised an eyebrow. “Why is that?”

The lanky defense contractor broke into a grin. “For whatever you said to my boss’ boss, sir. You saved my hide, but more importantly to me, you saved my team’s hide.”

“I might have had a short conversation. After all, you guys saved our hide out there.”

Kenneth tilted his head to one side. “All part of the service, sir.”

David laughed. “Keep it up, Mr. Lowe.”

Pulling himself up just a little bit taller, Kenneth pursued his lips together and smiled. “Yes, sir.”

“Carry on,” David said, walking past the contractor toward the exit. Striding down the passageway of the ship to his office, he felt alive again. They were able to strike back at the League of Sol, and his ship would be in the vanguard. A month ago, he would have said that actually pushing back and taking the fight to the League was impossible. Today, it wasn’t only possible; it seemed probable they would win. Smiling to himself, he knew the fight was far from over, but perhaps this was the beginning of the end for the League and for the war.

46

The next morning, David rose at his normal hour of “O Dark Thirty,” and completed his morning exercise and grooming routine. Since they were not yet underway, David chose to wear his service khaki uniform instead of the traditional space sweater. On his way toward the wardroom, he bumped into Tinetariro outside of a gravlift station. As soon as she saw him, she brought herself to attention. “Colonel Cohen,” she said as a greeting.

“At ease, Master Chief.”

“How are you this morning, sir?”

“Honestly, I can’t tell you the last time I felt this energized. Even with all the emotional trauma of the last few weeks, the concept that we might be on the verge of pasting the League all over space…that’s enough to get me up and going in the morning.”

Tinetariro broke into a large grin. “I couldn’t say it any better, sir. Have you had breakfast already?”

“I have not, Master Chief.”

“Perhaps you would care to join me in the chief’s mess, sir?”

David smiled. “I would be honored.” Technically, David could go into any mess or any part of the ship he wanted, as he was its commanding officer. However, tradition was that only chiefs, or those they invited, could enter the chief’s mess.

“Then follow me, sir. We have something prepared for you.”

David fell in behind her, wondering what on earth they had come up with. After a brisk walk through the ship, they arrived at the chief’s mess. Even though the ship had technically only been a commissioned warship again for the better part of two weeks, the chiefs had already made the space their own. There was a stylized drawing of a goat in a spacesuit adorning the hatch, which David chuckled at. “The Goat Locker, eh?”

Tinetariro laughed as she opened the door. “I thought that was a nice touch myself.”

Striding into the large mess area, David’s eyes were immediately drawn to a buffet of food around the central section of the room. “All the food today is kosher, sir,” Tinetariro continued.

David walked over to the buffet and immediately realized the buffet was an Israeli breakfast. He got a plate and put a generous helping of eggs and root vegetables on it, along with some smoked fish.

“I tried some of that fish.”

“Oh?” David said.

“It was… interesting.”

David grinned. “Well, it’s pareve. Even a kosher sausage can’t be consumed with the rest of this food.”

“I’m just a gentile, sir. It’s Greek to me.”

“Pareve means a food is neither meat nor dairy. We can’t mix the two types of food.”

“Who decides all that anyway?”

“Various rabbis throughout the ages, interpreting the Torah.”

“I don’t think I could give up my bacon, sir.”

“Never had it, so I don’t know what I’m missing,” David said, laughing.

After both of them had finished heaping their plates, they walked to a nearby table and sat down. David took out his napkin, leaving his silverware on the table. “Would you care to join me in blessing our food, Master Chief?” he asked.

“Gladly, sir.”

David bowed his head. “God, creator of the universe and all that is within it, bless this food to us today, and give us wisdom to do Your will.”

Lifting his head, he dug into the eggs. They were very fresh and tasted amazing. “Where did you guys get all this fresh food, Master Chief?”

Tinetariro grinned. “Well, we do control the food budget after all,” she replied with a twinkle in her eyes. “That and the quartermaster corps were unusually willing to send some really good stuff our way. We’ll eat well for at least the next month.”

“Count me in. I’ve spent so much time in space, I’ve forgotten what basic staples taste like.”

“We will be having this breakfast buffet every third day we’re underway until the supplies run out. You’re welcome to join us on any of those days.”

David again broke into a smile. “Well, thank you, Master Chief. I’m pretty sure I’m going to take you up on that offer for as long as I can.”

“On a more serious note, Colonel, I don’t expect the next six months to be easy. But I want you to know that everyone on this ship will give whatever it takes to secure victory, including the ultimate sacrifice.”

David set his fork down, looking at her intently. “I’d much rather our friends in the League pay the ultimate price rather than us, Master Chief.”

“Agreed, Colonel.”

After both of them finished their meals, David stood. “Join me on the bridge, Master Chief? We’re to depart Canaan spacedock in half an hour.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for anything in the galaxy, Colonel.”

David smiled, realizing as he did that for perhaps the first time in many years, he was actually happy. Even in the midst of all the terror, sadness, and the unending war, he was for the first time in many, many years, perhaps ever, a happy warrior. Not happy that he had to fight, or that they’d have to kill a lot of Leaguers in the coming months, but happy in the sense that his cause was just, and he was glad to fight for it. “I’ll see you up there, Master Chief. Thanks again for the great meal.”

“Anytime, Colonel.”

David walked out of the chief’s mess and made his way to the bridge of the Lion. He exchanged salutes with the armed Marines that guarded the door to the combined bridge and combat information center. Ducking under the hatch, he pulled on his cover and saw Tinetariro. How’d she get up here faster than me? Perhaps it was some super-secret master chief ability.

“Colonel on the bridge!” Tinetariro said formally.

“As you were,” David said as the enlisted personnel and officers that weren’t buckled in to their stations braced to attention and saluted. He returned their salutes with a crisp one of his own.

Aibek sat in the XO’s chair and David slid in next to him. This was something he’d have to get used to: no Sheila on the bridge.

Turning to Aibek, David asked, “Are we ready to depart, XO?”

“Yes, sir. All stations report ready, and we are cleared to depart from Canaan space control.”

“Communications, please tie 1MC into my console.”

“1MC tied in, sir. You’re online,” Taylor said from his station.

“Attention, all hands, this is the commanding officer. Just a week ago, we were heading out to secure peace for the Terran Coalition. I know that, like me, all of you were bitterly disappointed when that peace agreement turned out to be yet another ruse by the League. However, thanks to the dedication, bravery, and tenacity of this crew and the grace of God, we defeated the League. Today, we stand united as ever, and with our new allies.” David glanced at Aibek as he spoke. “We will prevail. This ship has already earned its stripes in battle, and you have acquitted yourselves as well as I could have ever hoped. It is an honor to lead you, and in the coming weeks and months, we will drive the League from our space. We will take the fight to them, and God willing, we’ll finish this war once and for all. Stand by for departure and man your stations. Colonel Cohen out.”

David glanced around the bridge, seeing energized and smiling crewmen and officers. Allowing a grin to crease his face, he turned toward Hammond. “Navigation, disengage all moorings and umbilicals.”

“All moorings and umbilicals disengaged, sir.”

“Navigation, take us out, all ahead, dead slow.”

“All ahead, dead slow, aye aye, sir.”

As the mighty vessel slowly began to move, David saw the shipyard bay they occupied start to disappear behind them. Aibek interrupted his thoughts. “Colonel, what does the star that was painted on our hull yesterday signify?” he asked.

“It’s a battle star.”

“What is that exactly, sir?”

“In the CDF, any ship in a major fleet engagement whose participation was meritorious is awarded a battle star for that engagement. Some, especially our older carriers, have dozens.” David smiled. “But the first one is always the one of which the crew is most proud.”

“I see,” Aibek said thoughtfully. “So many customs and oddities you humans have.”

“We like to remember things.”

“I am looking forward to learning from you, Colonel. You and the rest of your crew.”

“I hope we can learn something from you as well.”

“Oh, I’m sure we can both teach each other a few things,” Aibek said with a chuckle.

David’s eyes went back forward, watching as the stars moved as the Lion adjusted course. Standing watch for the next four hours, the ship began its journey to the proving ground, and he found himself thinking through tactics they could use against the League. After that, it was time for him to grab a quick lunch, and then retire to his office to handle paperwork and to prepare for the meeting he requested with Ruth.

* * *

Later that day, Ruth swung open the hatch to David’s office and walked in. “Come in, Ruth,” he said, the use of her first name indicating that it wasn’t a formal exchange. She made her way to a chair in front of his desk.

“How are you holding up?” she asked.

“Better now than I was,” he said truthfully. “I still can’t believe she’s gone. I keep expecting her to walk through the door to the bridge and tell us it was all a big joke.”

A smile crossed her face. “I know what you mean. She was a big inspiration to me, you know.”

“I know she had been mentoring you.”

Ruth closed her eyes for a moment. “She wanted me to try the command track. She also wanted me to let go of some of my hate for the League.”

“I actually wanted to talk to you about that.”

Ruth opened her eyes, looking at him. “It’s under control, sir.”

“I’m not so sure of that,” David said, his tone direct. “Something I’ve learned, and am still trying to learn, is that hating the enemy does nothing for me except harm me. It doesn’t hurt them; it only makes me more like them.”

“That sounds like Sheila speaking.”

“Is that such a bad thing?”

“I don’t know. I’m still not sure how she managed to not end up hating every member of the League.”

“Ruth, when we give in to hate, it hollows us out. Trust me, I know this from experience. Don’t give in to it.”

Ruth swallowed hard. “I’m trying. It’s harder without her.” Wanting to change the subject, she said, “You should come to the non-denominational church service this week. Sheila is the subject of the sermon.”

David raised an eyebrow. “I would have expected to see you at shul instead.”

Ruth gave a nervous smile. “I’d gone a few times with Sheila over the last few months. I wanted to go again.”

David laughed. “What’s next, converting and making your parents roll over in their graves?”

Ruth scowled. David realized his comment, while made in jest, had hurt. “No…” she said. “I’ve just felt at home there.”

“Don’t you feel more at home at the shul?” David said, softening his expression.

Ruth seemed to struggle to explain herself. “There’s something about the idea of a personal connection with God. I can’t quite explain it, but Sheila made that seem like a special experience. With all that goes on around us, this war, the death of our friends, I want something more than reading prayers.”

“Judaism is about a lot more than reading prayers, Ruth.”

Ruth spoke before David could continue. “I know that, but what if God really did sacrifice his own son for us? Wouldn’t that be an amazing thing? What if we all lived by the ideals that Jesus espoused? Wouldn’t this galaxy be a better place?”

“Ruth, I… I think we all agree that Jesus was a good man,” he said, repeating something he had heard a rabbi say many years ago. “But we Jews don’t hold him to be the son of God. To us, he was just a good man that went off the rails.”

“But what if he wasn’t? Christians have survived repeated attempts to annihilate them. They endured in the face of that oppression, even when it would have been to their benefit to renounce their beliefs. In and of itself, that points to the idea that there was something to the basis of Christianity.”

“Ruth, we’ve endured repeated and systematic attempts to erase us from the universe too,” David began. “That’s not the litmus test for a religion being the one true gospel. We’re Jews and we have a rich history and culture. I’m proud to be a Jew.”

“As am I,” Ruth said emphatically. “But I think there’s something out there beyond the law. I go around wanting to judge everyone by the law, especially the League. What if it’s not my place to judge? What if there’s something more?”

“Then that’s something you will have to figure out. I’m not here to tell you that you’re right or wrong. All I will say is you need to remember you’re hurting right now. Don’t make any hasty choices.”

“You know me.”

David laughed out loud. “Yes, exactly. I know you pretty well after six months. Don’t make any hasty choices.” He recalled the old line about the only thing two Jews could agree on was what a third should give to charity.

“I won’t. I had my first one-on-one meeting with Colonel Aibek.”

David, glad she decided to switch topics, nodded. “He’s a very interesting individual.”

“I don’t think I’ve encountered a Saurian that’s as jovial as he is before.”

“I would have to agree. That said, he seems to know his business, and I think he’s a good man, well, Saurian,” David said, laughing as he did.

“Do they really eat live rodents? I heard one of the mess cooks talking about that.”

David rolled his eyes. “No. It’s interesting, honestly; they’re very much like us, except we believe they’re more based off a reptilian form of life.”

“I find it interesting that almost all of them are Christians. It’s fascinating to me that many of the cultures we’ve encountered have a religion that closely mimics Judaism, Christianity, or Islam. You would think that would lend some credence to the idea of God in someone like Doctor Hayworth.”

Many years ago, it had been discovered by Christian missionaries that the Saurian religion was centered around the belief that God had sent his son to die for their sins. It hadn’t taken long for comparisons to be made between human Christianity and the Saurian religion. Not all Saurians cared for the comparison, and there was some level of belief that humans were inferior among the Saurians. Still, there were enough direct similarities that David found the argument compelling.

“I remember reading a quote somewhere that atheism is the most dogmatic of all religions,” David said. “Men like Hayworth drive that sentiment home in spades. However, Dr. Hayworth is entitled to his beliefs and opinions, just as you and I are.”

Ruth quirked her face. “There are times I wish we could suppress people like him.”

That comment drew a sharp look from David. “Ruth, don’t go down that path. You can’t force people to believe something. They have to come upon it on their own. The end of that path is the League, except we’d be a theocracy that executes its citizens if they don’t toe the line. We left those guys behind on Earth, and I pray they never come back.”

“You’re telling me it doesn’t bother you when he insults God and insults the rest of us by saying he believes in the flying spaghetti monster?”

David laughed. “It does and it doesn’t. Someday, we will all stand in front of God, and we will be judged. Or… Hayworth is right and there’s nothing else beyond this existence. The doctor is not representative of most atheists I’ve known. I have a few friends that are agnostic or atheist, and they don’t make a sport out of insulting my beliefs. Regardless, it’s not our job to judge him. As long as all respect our traditions and don’t try to force their viewpoint onto the rest of us by demanding that we stop referencing our trust in God, for instance as a nation, they can do whatever they want. That’s one of our founding principles. Everyone has the right to believe whatever they so desire without interference from the government. That goes both ways, regardless of beliefs.”

Ruth smiled. “Point taken.”

David looked toward the clock. “It’s about time for dinner. Care to join me on the way to the wardroom?” he asked, referencing that the senior officers generally ate together onboard while underway in the ship’s wardroom.

“Of course, sir.”

Standing up from his desk, he walked around it as Ruth stood, falling in behind. David looked forward to the meal, the first time he would break bread with Lt. Colonel Aibek. The man’s jovial manner seemed to be infectious, and hopefully, he would integrate well into the rest of the senior staff. Regardless, the Saurian would be invaluable going forward as a liaison with the Saurian ships assigned to their battlegroup.

David’s mind raced as quickly as he was walking. Endless possibilities now branched out from what had seemed like a dead end only a few weeks ago.

47

Admiral Pierre Seville sat in his new stateroom on board his new flagship, the LSS Annihilator. The last two weeks had been interesting, he reflected, looking around the walls festooned with portraits of past League leaders. I still have a hard time believing that Strappi didn’t leave me to die when he could’ve. Especially the way I’ve treated him over the years. After his evacuation from the Destruction, he’d been informed by a doctor onboard the cruiser he ended up on that he’d lose his other eye. Now he had two bionic eyes. Strangely enough, thanks to the technology level of the League, his artificial eyes were actually better than the real thing; but they still felt odd, like there was a foreign object in his brain.

The blame game has started, Seville thought bitterly. It was about the only thing the Social and Public Safety Committee was good at, assigning blame and executing traitors after the fact. Seville had played the game long enough to pin the tail as it were on everyone but him, namely those that were dead, including his flag captain. It pained him for a moment that the man’s family would be reassigned to a work camp, but the moment was brief. In the end, only Seville’s continued existence and success was a factor in his decision-making. To that end, he had successfully convinced the committee to keep him in place as the leader of the military expedition against the Terran Coalition.

Seville had to admit he was impressed by the ingenuity shown by the Terrans. To get a new type of reactor working under their noses and without League spies coming upon the information was a shock. It was also surprising that they got lucky and put the exact ship needed to counteract his plan in place with no advance notice. Chuckling to himself, he considered that many in the Terran Coalition would likely chalk that luck up to a miracle from God. To him, it was simply proof that low probability events did occur.

One major thing that had changed with the Saurians entering the war on the side of the Terran Coalition was that the League now viewed the conflict through a new lens. More ships would be coming, newer ships, and more troops. Seville had been promised they would see double the ships and troops in the next few months, but he would believe that when he saw it.

The chime at his hatch rang. “Yes?” he said, annoyed.

“Admiral, it is Colonel Strappi.”

Oh goody, Seville thought to himself. “Come in, Colonel.”

The door opened on Seville’s command, and Colonel Strappi walked into the stateroom. “Sit down, Colonel. Make yourself comfortable,” Seville said with gaiety in his voice.

“I did not expect your spirits to be so high, Admiral,” Strappi said cautiously.

Seville regarded the political officer for a moment. He really did despise political officers, but Strappi had grown on him, especially after he saved his life. He’d resolved not to openly mock the man as much as he used to. “In spite of our recent setbacks, Colonel, we’re closer now to winning than ever before.”

Strappi raised an eyebrow. “With respect, sir, how do you fathom that? Our flagship was destroyed. You were nearly killed, an elite strike team I didn’t even know existed was destroyed, and the religious fanatics of the Terran Coalition are braying to the entire galaxy how their God saved them. If that wasn’t enough, the Saurians joined this so-called Canaan Alliance, and there’s intelligence intercepts that suggest the Matrinids will as well. On the face of it, this looks like a total disaster.”

Seville laughed out loud. “Colonel, you’re supposed to be our morale officer. That sounds like a report I’d hear on that infernal Canaan News Channel. You’re not looking at it the right way.”

Strappi snorted. “How should I be looking at it, sir?”

“Yes, the Terrans won a victory. And yes, it’s done a lot of things for them. Oh, over the next six months, we’ll get our asses handed to us in every battle. They’ve got high morale, ours is low, they received what amounts to their entire military as reinforcements and they’ve got a hero to motivate them.” Seville leaned forward in his seat. “But the very things that give them strength, we can turn against them and use to destroy the Terran Coalition once and for all.”

Strappi sat in silence, waiting for Seville to go on.

“We will bide our time, marshal our reinforcements, and trade space for time. The Terrans and their newfound allies will press the advantage. They will stretch out their supply lines, and at a time and place of our choosing, we will overwhelm one of their battlegroups with numbers, and begin to roll them back.”

Strappi nodded. “But what about that new ship of theirs? It outclasses anything we have.”

Seville shook his head. “It’s a gimmick ship. Yes, it’s got advanced technology and its commander is resourceful and capable. But it’s only one ship. We almost had them in our first engagement. All we have to do is overwhelm it with numbers.”

Strappi looked a bit doubtful. “I understand, sir, but I worry about the cost it will take to destroy that ship. I worry for our morale.”

Seville allowed a grin to cross his face. “There’s one more thing, Colonel. That ship, for better or for worse, has been turned into a hero by the Terran Coalition’s media. Its crew, its captain; they’re all heroes. That’s a powerful weapon against us because the entire sequence of events has given the Terrans hope again. Hope is a powerful ally in combat, but in doing so, they’ve handed us a weapon. All we have to do is destroy that ship, and we’ll grind their hope under our feet.”

For the first time since he had sat down, Strappi looked as if he bought what Seville was selling. “In other words, destroy that ship, kill the hope, and they’ll collapse?”

Seville nodded. “Exactly. We’re going to destroy the Lion of Judah, kill Colonel Cohen, and make sure that’s front-page news. When we do, the Terran Coalition’s will to fight will fall apart. You and I will be the heroes of the League and someday we will be in a position to effect real change within the League.”

Strappi looked up, fear in his eyes. “Those are… dangerous words, Admiral.”

“Words that need to be spoken, Colonel. And you will be safest at my side.”

“I live to serve, Admiral,” he responded neutrally.

Seville again responded with a smile. “All in good time, Colonel. All in good time. But today, we rest and lick our wounds. Tomorrow, we begin to organize the strike that will destroy the Terran Coalition.”

Strappi raised his arm and made the fist of the League. “To victory!”

Seville mimicked the motion. “To victory!”

* * *

David walked into his stateroom. He had just completed his first watch and spent some time attending to paperwork in his office before having dinner with the senior officers in the wardroom. Another long but productive day in the books, he thought to himself. The Lion would complete its final Lawrence drive jump into the testing area at 0700 the next morning, and they’d have two weeks to find as many things wrong with the ship as possible before going into combat. A tall order, but one David was happy to fulfill.

Taking off his uniform to get ready for bed, he made a cup of hot tea. My reward for a hard day’s work, and it’ll help me sleep. Sitting on the couch with the hot mug in between his hands, his eyes roamed over pictures he had put up: the one of him, his father and his mother, a picture of him and Sheila, among others. Looking out at the stars in the quiet of the night, David realized that something had changed deep within him.

It would be about six months ago when he was alone and looking out into the vast sea of stars that he would begin to feel small and not up to the task at hand. He would question everything about himself, his decisions, feelings, and abilities. But tonight, looking out of his window, he realized that those doubts had been replaced by a quiet confidence that required no boasting, ego, or validation. A confidence that he was able, by the grace and help of God, to meet whatever the League threw at him, to lead his crew into battle, and bring as many as possible home safe and sound. That was his calling and his duty, and for the first time in many years, perhaps even in his entire life, David was completely ready, committed, and confident.

Tomorrow was a new day, and in two weeks’ time, David Cohen, the Lion of Judah, and the full might of the Terran Coalition and the Saurian Empire was coming for the League of Sol, and if he was still alive, Admiral Seville. President Spencer had said that Seville was wanted dead or alive, inviting comparisons to the wild west of six hundred years ago back on Earth. He chided himself for wishing more for the dead than alive part of that statement. As the quote that was attributed to dozens of people—though no one was really sure where it came from— “It’s not our job to judge the League’s soldiers. That’s God’s job. Our job is to arrange a face-to-face meeting as soon as possible.” Chuckling to himself, he was sure Sheila would have playfully yelled at him for saying that, but tonight, he’d enjoy his tea and drink to the possibility of finally driving the League and its oppression out of Terran Coalition space once and for all.

THE END

Echoes of War: Book 2 – Strong and Courageous: David has won a battle, but the war is far from over. He’ll need a miracle to defeat the League of Sol once more.

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Echoes of War Book Two - Strong and Courageous

Strong and Courageous by Daniel Gibbs

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1

September 8th, 2460

CSV Lion of Judah

League/Terran Coalition Front Lines

Colonel David Cohen, commanding officer of the CSV Lion of Judah, tugged on his uniform sweater and let out a yawn. I guess all these mornings getting up 0430 are catching up with me. Rapidly closing in on forty years of age, the thirty-eight-year-old man stopped long enough to look in the mirror to make sure his uniform met Coalition Defense Force grooming standards. David preferred the pullover sweater while in space. Most ship crews did because it was naturally colder than average on a massive warship flying through the dark vacuum. David had his regular staff meeting at 0700 Coalition Mean Time every morning, and as per his usual morning ritual, he had already eaten a small breakfast and had visited the shul for morning prayers.

Balancing his duties as the commanding officer of the Lion with his responsibilities as a devout practicing Jew was sometimes tricky. David made every effort to meet both requirements. After confirming that his rank insignia, Space Warfare Officer badge, and nametag were all in the proper places, he walked out of his cabin. During the walk up to the command deck and through the labyrinth of passages that crisscrossed the Lion, his mind wandered. Since the Saurian Empire had joined the fight on the side of the Terran Coalition, the entire landscape of the conflict had changed. Under the banner of the Canaan Alliance, the Allied Expeditionary Force—consisting of the Coalition Defense Force and the Royal Saurian Navy—steadily pushed the League back. It feels satisfying to be winning again.

As he came off the grav-lift on the command deck, the Terran Coalition Marine Corps sentries that stood watch outside of the bridge/combat information center on the Lion saluted David. He acknowledged their salute with one of his own before walking into the conference room where the command staff had assembled. While he was ten minutes early, most of the command staff had already taken their seats.

David smiled inwardly as the mantra his father used to cite—“Early is on time; on time is late. Never be late.”—ran through his head.

All present stood and came to attention. “As you were,” David responded, acknowledging the respect shown.

First Lieutenant Ruth Goldberg, a short, petite woman in her late twenties, was the first to reply. Ruth was the Lion’s Tactical Action Officer; with David’s guidance, she fought the ship in combat. “Good night’s rest, sir?”

David grinned. “I find that when we’re pressing the League out of our space, it’s a lot easier to sleep at night.”

Calvin Demood—a lieutenant colonel in the Terran Coalition Marine Corps and the commander of the Lion’s Marine Expeditionary Unit—gave a belly laugh. “Who needs sleep when we’re pasting League ships all over the place? As far as I’m concerned, this will never get old.”

David smirked; he had grown to like the tough Marine. His no-nonsense way of looking at the universe was refreshing. The one thing he couldn’t entirely agree with was Calvin’s seeming desire to kill every last Leaguer. “The only good Leaguer is a dead Leaguer,” he’d said more than once. Regardless of that, David had the utmost respect for Calvin’s abilities. Over and over again, his Marines had proven themselves in battle. He was sure that was in large part due to older Marine’s leadership and tactical abilities.

Master Chief Rebecca Tinetariro was also present; she was the senior enlisted soldier on the Lion of Judah. A twenty-seven-year veteran of the CDF, Tinetariro hailed from the African Union and was tall for a woman at nearly six feet. She was an imposing figure with a strong command presence. David had developed a great deal of respect for her in the past eight weeks since her assignment to the Lion. “Good morning, sir,” she said to him in her posh British accent.

“And a good morning to you as well, Master Chief,” David replied. “How’s that gospel choir going?”

Tinetariro smiled; there was something about the way she smiled that would have made David’s blood run cold had he been under her command. “Getting there, sir. Would have been nice if that spiffy Marine Corps band had stayed onboard.”

“I liked them too. Flag ceremony with a live band was special.”

David took his seat at the head of the table; First Lieutenant Shelly Hammond, the Lion’s senior navigator, and First Lieutenant Robert Taylor, the communications officer, were present and seated. Both of them were quiet and reserved, rarely speaking in a staff meeting unless spoken to first. Major Arthur Hanson, the Lion’s chief engineer, was also present and sat to his right hand. An outgoing nerd, Hanson had worked on a reactor design team for a new generation of fusion reactors deployed to the latest breed of CDF destroyer before serving with David, first on the Yitzhak Rabin, and now on the Lion.

Kenneth Lowe, the lone civilian in the room, sat to his left at the table. David made eye contact with the lanky defense contractor and received a respectful head nod in return. Kenneth and his small army of technical support contractors had been instrumental in keeping the Lion in fighting shape over the last eight weeks. Without their help, it was unlikely the newly trained military crew would have been able to keep all of the new technology, gizmos, and gadgets operational.

Right on cue, Lieutenant Colonel Talgat Aibek entered the room. The jovial Saurian had grown on David. Aibek’s humor was so dry it could burn, but the Saurian was a valuable member of the team who had stepped into the executive officer role with gusto. Serving as his right hand onboard the Lion, Aibek kept the ship’s departments and personnel running.

But every time Aibek walked into the room, it was a bitter reminder of Sheila Thompson’s death. The emotional pain from Sheila’s death, while faded due to what David believed was a vision from God, was still there. They had known each other for nearly twenty years; knowing he would never see her again, speak with her again, or embrace her again weighed heavily on him. Coupled with his belatedly realized feelings of love for her, there were days when the abyss of depression and despair gnawed at him, tempting him to fall into it. That abyss was an ever-constant companion, one he actively had to fight off.

“Good morning, Colonel Cohen!” Aibek’s booming voice said, carrying across the room.

“Banker’s hours, Colonel Aibek?” David asked playfully, but with a slight edge. He hated his officers being late to meetings.

“I got carried away in my morning exercise routine,” Aibek responded, chastened. Making his way around the table, Aibek sat down next to Doctor Izmet Tural, the Lion’s chief medical officer.

The last arrivals filled the remaining two chairs at the conference table. Hassan Amir, the air wing commander onboard the Lion, also known as the CAG, an old military term that stood for Commander Air Group, which had survived the ages, and Major Elizabeth Merriweather, the engineer in charge of the military personnel attached to the advanced reactor program that powered the Lion’s antimatter reactor.

“Let’s get started, people,” David said, and turned to Aibek. “Ship’s readiness, XO?”

“Shipshape in Bristol fashion, sir.”

Ruth cleared her throat. “Colonel, with respect, you’re not British, sir.” It had become normal for her to be a bit more sarcastic in meetings.

David broke into a grin. “So we’re in mint condition, eh?”

“Yes, sir,” Aibek said with a grin in return.

“Colonel Amir, status of the fighter wing?”

“We have fourteen squadrons at maximum readiness, Colonel. I’ve put two squadrons that took significant losses in our last few engagements into reserve status until we receive replacement pilots,” Amir said.

“Very good. The last few weeks have almost been too easy.”

“Lanchester’s Law, sir,” Hammond interjected, drawing looks from some of the staff.

Aibek peered at her. “What is that, Lieutenant?”

“It’s a set of differential equations that determine firepower and combat effectiveness between military forces, sir. One of the postulations is that a larger force will defeat a smaller force with fewer losses than between an even force. Given that we’ve been hitting the League with locally superior forces due to the alliance… it makes sense that we’re taking fewer losses while hammering the League fleet.”

“I didn’t realize you studied military history, Lieutenant. Impressive and correct,” David said in what he hoped was an encouraging manner.

He punched a button, bringing up a holographic representation of local space displayed in the middle of the conference table. “If you will note the front-line designations, our orders are to support the push forward by Admiral Resit Kartal. The fighting will be sustained and heavy as we attempt to dislodge a major League force consisting of multiple carrier battle groups and large capital ship formations. If we can punch through here, however….it will be clear sailing. At least, according to CDF Intelligence.”

“CDF Intelligence. Now there’s an oxymoron if I’ve ever heard one,” Hanson said. “Whatever they say is usually wrong.”

Multiple chuckles and snickers sounded around the room; they generally held intelligence services of any stripe in various states of disrepute. Out on the sharp tip of the spear, bad intel gets people killed.

The intercom suddenly interrupted the meeting. “Bridge to Colonel Cohen. This is the command duty officer.”

David recognized the voice of a young first lieutenant who had drawn watch duty as CDO. “Go ahead, Lieutenant Jackson.”

“Sir, we’re receiving a high-level encrypted flash communication from the CSV Oxford. It’s addressed to you, sir. Shall I put it through to the conference room?”

“Pipe it in, Lieutenant.”

A moment later, the face of Colonel Robert Sinclair, the CO of the security operations monitoring center onboard the Oxford, a CDF “technical support” ship, which in reality was a spy ship, appeared on the holographic viewer.

“Colonel Sinclair, how’s spookville today?” David asked. They had been working closely with the Oxford and Colonel Sinclair over the past few weeks; David had built a rapport with him and found the Oxford’s operations impressive.

“Quite well, Colonel Cohen,” Sinclair said in his posh British accent, bearing a grin. “I’ve got something that might interest you and your officers. We have a vector bearing and location on the LX Tours and her battlegroup. They’re currently effecting repairs after the last engagement they had with CDF and RSN forces that didn’t go their way. As the closest combat-effective force, Admiral Kartal wants you to hit them hard and fast.”

The assembled officers exchanged looks while David felt his battle spirit stir. The Tours was a League fleet carrier; she had over four hundred fighters onboard and was a dangerous opponent. To be able to catch her and her consorts with their pants down… he could scarcely believe their luck.

“Any idea how long she’s going to be parked in her current location, Colonel?”

“Not with any real confidence. We’re sure they’ve been at their current coordinates for at least an hour. Since we’re not sure what shape the carrier is in, Admiral Kartal is requesting immediate engagement by friendly forces. How long for the Lion and her battlegroup to transit in?”

David glanced at Aibek. “Are we ready to engage, XO?”

Aibek’s head bobbed up and down. “Yes, sir. Our battlegroup is at maximum readiness.”

“Call it thirty minutes to ensure our escorts are ready to jump, get our flight wing on ready five status, and prep for action. Tell Admiral Kartal we’ll engage the enemy within the next thirty-five minutes, Colonel.”

“Understood, Colonel Cohen. Good luck, good hunting, and Godspeed. Oxford out.”

David sat back in his chair, looking around at his senior staff. “Well, that wasn’t quite how I was expecting today to start, ladies and gentlemen.”

Kenneth piped up. “I think I can speak for everyone and say it will be nice to paste a League carrier.” Kenneth smiled brightly after he finished speaking.

A few of the officers chuckled, as did David. Calvin, however, couldn’t resist the chance to tease the contractor. “Hey, if you ever want a real job, Kenneth…I’ll get you started in boot camp any time. Then you can do more than talk about kicking the League’s ass and actually do it.”

There was again a smattering of laughter as Kenneth interjected his retort. “Colonel, let me know when you retire. I’ll get you set up in something you can do from your assisted living facility.”

“Ouch!” David roared while laughing out loud along with the rest of the team.

“What is it with these smart-ass comms geeks on this ship?” Calvin said in his faux annoyed tone. “Well, Kenneth, you may be a smart ass, but at least your partner in crime, Lieutenant Taylor, can throw a punch. And use pugil sticks. Until you can, stow it.”

“I think you hit a nerve, Kenneth,” Ruth said with a wicked grin on her face.

David pushed back his chair and stood. “Okay, people, that’s enough. We’ve got thirty-five minutes to get this ship ready for action. Bridge team, follow me. Everyone else…you know your duty. Get to it. Dismissed.”

There was a smattering of “Yes, sir,” and “Aye aye, sir,” as the officers stood and walked out; David waited until everyone else had left before following them out the door. This would be the third engagement this week; the heightened battle rhythm was ordinarily a challenge for the crew. They had been going all out for the last eight weeks, and to David’s surprise, there had been no requests for R&R or time off. From his vantage point, the entire ship functioned like a well-oiled machine that had one goal: driving the League of Sol from their space. Still, at some point, human beings simply got tired. David worried that when that point came, if it came at the wrong time, there would be a reckoning.

Lost in his thoughts for a moment, when David exited the conference room, the corridor was empty except for the two Marine guards standing watch in front of the bridge/combat information center hatch. David strode to the door as the Marines smartly saluted him.

“Gentlemen,” David said as an acknowledgment, pulling his cover—what the military called a hat—on as he walked through the hatch onto the bridge of the Lion of Judah. It was such an impressive sight to him, one that never got old. Nearly thirty officers and crew manned the cavernous bridge, coupled with a full Combat Information Center. Most of the weapons and systems were automated, but there were still massive amounts of information to sift through quickly so that watch-standing officers would be able to make informed and proper decisions, especially in the heat of combat.

A moment after David entered the bridge, the familiar voice of Master Chief Tinetariro announced, “Commanding officer on the bridge!”

All personnel that stood had braced to attention and brought their hands to their brows in salute. David quickly brought his hand up and crisply returned their salutes. “As you were.”

As he looked around the bridge one more time, a smile flashed onto David’s face. He was so proud of his crew, of his ship. At times like this, he could almost feel his father and Sheila standing there with him. Focusing his mind back on the task at hand, he walked over to the CO’s and XO’s chairs. Aibek had already taken his position in the XO’s chair, but the young lieutenant that had stood watch still held the conn.

“Lieutenant Jackson, I have the conn,” David said.

The young man quickly stood and stepped to the side. “Colonel Cohen has the conn, aye, sir.”

Sitting down in the CO’s chair, David glanced at Aibek. “Settled in, XO?”

The large Saurian grinned. “Yes, sir. Ready to go, sir.”

“Outstanding.”

David looked up at his tactical monitor, a display that was configurable by him to show information he wanted to consume during a battle or at any point. He liked to see metrics on propulsion, shield strength, and weapons status, and as such had programmed his monitor to display them. As he reviewed the screen, everything was showing normal, charged, and ready.

David punched a button on his chair for 1MC, the ship-wide intercom. “General Quarters! General Quarters! This is the commanding officer. Man your battle stations! I say again, man your battle stations! Set material condition one throughout the ship! This is not a drill! I say again, this is not a drill!” David used a set of words he had now uttered numerous times on the Lion. As he spoke, the alarm klaxon wailed throughout the massive vessel, and the lights on the bridge dimmed to a blue color. CDF studies said that the blue hue helped personnel concentrate better; he didn’t know if that was really accurate, but it did help to brighten up their tactical displays.

“TAO, load all magnetic cannons with armor-piercing rounds.”

“Aye, sir, loading all magnetic cannons with armor-piercing rounds!” Ruth said.

“Navigation, plot a Lawrence drive jump to the coordinates supplied by the CSV Oxford.”

“Aye, sir!” Hammond said.

“Communications, signal our escorting destroyers to match our Lawrence drive coordinates; they will follow us through on our signal.”

“Yes, sir!” Taylor said.

His initial orders delivered, David sat back in his seat. He knew that, right now, the flight crews for their fighters and bombers would be running like mad readying the nearly two hundred combat spacecraft they carried for the fight to come. Thousands of crewmen and women would be donning firefighting gear, manning damage control teams, and preparing for the battle to come. This is the hardest time. The clock ticking was down to engagement; knowing what was happening and having to adjust mentally took iron will. They had twenty-eight minutes to go before launching into the unknown.

* * *

Hassan Amir stood in the ready room for the fighter squadron he commanded, the Grim Reapers, known as the Reapers for short. Compared to the smaller carriers he’d served on, the Lion’s pilots’ ready rooms were the picture of luxury. Large, comfortable leather recliners dotted the room, along with the latest in holoprojector technology for fully three-dimensional briefings. But regardless of where they sat waiting for the next battle or how comfortable the chairs were, nothing stopped the feeling of dread right before combat. That feeling never goes away. But roaring into space at maximum speed makes up for it. Stepping up to the podium, he began the briefing.

“Grim Reapers…we’re about to get a shot at something we can only dream of most of the time.” Amir flashed a warrior’s smile. “The Lion of Judah and her battle group will be engaging the LX Tours… a frontline League fleet carrier.”

There were whoops and hollers from the pilots; Amir saw faces of near glee staring back at him. It was rare to get to engage a League fleet carrier.

“They don’t have many because they throw most of their resources into thousands of battleships, cruisers, and destroyers, and overwhelm their enemies with numbers. So getting to polish one off will be a true accomplishment.” Amir pulled up a holographic projection of the Tours. “Take special note of her point defense emplacements; our job, besides escorting the heavy bombers in, will be to fire decoys into the fray so that her point defense loses effectiveness. Each decoy it shoots down is one less fighter or bomber we’ll lose.”

Amir stepped back from the podium, looking out at the other eleven pilots in his squadron. “Above all, stay safe. The last eight weeks have been a time we have not experienced before. Do not allow complacency to enter your minds. No matter how superior our technology, you must respect the League’s pilots. If you do not, they will use that against us and destroy us. Any questions?”

“Sir, any information on enemy CSP?” a pilot in the back of the room shouted. CSP stood for combat space patrol.

“None, Lieutenant. The Oxford’s sensors couldn’t get a read on fighter craft already launched. We must assume they will have at least a squadron on standard CSP, and another couple on ready five.”

“The Tours has four hundred combat spacecraft on it, correct, sir?” another pilot called out.

“That is correct.”

“Sir, do we think they could scramble enough to make this a real fight? We’re down two squadrons.”

“We prevent that by hitting hard first. Our bombers will be focusing on the flight bays of the Tours. As long as we disable two out of its four main launching points, they will be unable to launch enough fighters and bombers to engage effectively.”

“And if we don’t disable those launching points, sir?”

“Then we will have a target-rich environment, Captain.” Amir smiled wide as he spoke. “Any other questions?”

The room was silent; no further questions were asked. “Very well. Man your fighters! I want everyone on ready five in the next fifteen minutes. Move out, pilots! Godspeed!”

2

Thirty-four minutes had passed by on the bridge of Lion of Judah, and David was as anxious as ever. The calm that comes over me during battle isn’t there before it. When he checked over his command display one more time, the readout showed that the ship was ready to jump, all systems were nominal, and the weapon systems were active. All that remained was to give the order to engage.

David looked down, bowing his head. Before every battle he’d ever fought in while leading soldiers, he offered a prayer to God. Today was no different. “God, please hear my prayer,” he whispered. “I ask you only to protect those under my command, and if it is your will, to spare their lives and protect them from harm. Amen.”

Glancing back up, he saw Aibek staring at him. “The same prayer, Colonel?”

“Every time, every battle.”

“I, too, pray before battle, though I ask God to help me wield my sword to slay the enemy.”

“The Torah tells us not to kill. I don’t feel it’s my right to ask God to help me kill another of his creations. I believe he must look at this carnage and any war as an abhorrence. Still, I ask that he protect the lives of those who serve.”

“A noble sentiment.”

“Thank you.”

David sucked in a breath. Time to do this. “Navigation, status of Lawrence drive?”

The Lawrence drive was the primary faster-than-light travel mechanism used by all known races in the Milky Way galaxy. It worked by creating an artificial wormhole between two points and allowing a ship to traverse it under sub-light engine power.

“Lawrence drive fully charged, coordinates from the Oxford are locked in, and all systems show green, sir,” Hammond said.

“Very well.” David paused for a moment. A few words of encouragement might help. He looked down at his chair and punched up 1MC— the intercom tie-in that allowed him to speak into every single compartment of the ship and reach every last member of the crew. “Attention, all hands. This is your commanding officer. I wanted you all to know that we’re about to jump back into battle against the League. Our objective is to neutralize a League fleet carrier and its battle group. We’ve got what we think is good intelligence, but when it comes down to it, how well we remember and execute our training is what will make the difference in the next few minutes. So trust in your training, trust in your comrades-in-arms to your right and to your left. Above all, trust in God and his blessing. Godspeed.”

David sat back in his chair and glanced around the room one last time. “Navigation, commence jump.”

Hammond quickly responded, “Aye, sir, commencing jump.”

Over the next few seconds, the massive Lawrence drive generators within the Lion sprang to life, folding space upon itself and opening a dazzling, artificial wormhole in front of the mighty warship. The Lion’s sub-light engines kicked in, and the warship flew through the void and into the mouth of the wormhole, closely followed by its eight escorting destroyers.

During the five-second window between emergence from the wormhole and sensors returning to normal, David’s mind was alive, running through possible scenarios. Is this another League trap? It was hard to tell with the so-called fog of war; a catch-all term of impediments to seeing the whole battlefield.

“Conn, TAO. LIDAR array online. I’ve got eight ship contacts, sir,” Ruth announced, interrupting David’s thoughts and snapping his brain back full onto the battle at hand. “One League fleet carrier, designated Master One. Two Rand class cruisers, designed Master Two and Three. Six Cobra class destroyers designated Master Four through Nine.”

“TAO, does Master One have a CSP in space?”

“Conn, TAO. I show a six fighter CSP. No other active small craft, sir.”

David looked at Aibek. “Doesn’t look like a trap.”

“No, it doesn’t, sir,” Aibek said.

“TAO, firing point procedures, Master Two. Set firing solution for mag-cannons and neutron beams,”

“Aye, sir, firing solution set.”

“TAO, match bearings, shoot, all weapons,” David said, his voice calm, cool, and collected.

Armor-piercing magnetic cannon rounds raced away from the Lion. Also known as a mag-cannon, their primary armament consisted of what amounted to a rail-gun. It fired shells with different configurations, including armor-piercing, high explosive, or EMP-generating warheads. The Lion’s secondary armament of high-energy neutron beams lashed out at the League cruiser as well. Its shields failed, and multiple shots impacted on the Rand’s hull. One neutron beam went straight through the League ship, blowing pieces of alloy and armor out the other side of the vessel.

“Conn, TAO. Master Two has been neutralized and is launching escape pods, sir.”

“Good shooting, Lieutenant. Communications, signal Colonel Amir to launch his wing. Primary target is Master One. Signal our escorts to focus their fire on Masters Four through Nine.”

“Aye, sir,” Taylor said.

“TAO, firing point procedures, Master Three. Set firing solution for mag-cannons and neutron beams,” David ordered, entirely absorbed by the battle.

“Firing solution set, sir.”

“TAO, match bearings, shoot, all weapons,” David said, the procedure for a ship-based combat evolution firmly entrenched in his mind, almost to the point of being automatic.

Again, the massive magnetic cannons, the Lion’s primary armament, thundered in space; though you wouldn’t have heard a thing if you were outside the ship. There’s no sound in space, after all. They spat twenty-eight-hundred-pound projectiles toward the League Rand class cruiser; smacking into its shields and causing them to collapse. Followed up by judicious neutron beam strikes, Ruth’s attentions quickly rendered the League ship adrift in space. One-part science, one-part skill, and one-part art, Ruth is one of the best TAOs I’ve ever seen.

“Conn, TAO. Master Three has been disabled and is drifting in space, sir.”

David glanced at Aibek. “I think it’s time to turn our attention to the Tours. What do you think, XO?”

Aibek grinned widely. “I couldn’t agree more, Colonel.”

David’s eyes went to the tactical plot on the screen directly above his chair. The fighters and bombers from the Lion had begun to launch and were forming up.

“TAO, firing point procedures, Master One. Set firing solution for mag-cannons, neutron beams. Make tubes one through twenty ready in all respects, target Master One.”

“Firing solution set, sir.” She paused a moment. ”Tubes one through twenty ready in all respects. Twenty Hunter missiles ready for launch.”

“TAO, match bearings, shoot, all weapons.”

David watched on his tactical plot as the Lion’s weapons suite lashed out against the massive League carrier. The sheer amount of firepower that the Lion carries is incredible. The Lion had more missiles on it than six missile cruisers, and more magnetic cannons than any four heavy cruisers.

“Conn, TAO! All magnetic cannon rounds impacted on Master One, sir! Eighteen of twenty missiles impacted…Master One’s shields are holding.”

Time to send in the bombers and overwhelm the League carrier before it can jump out. “Communications, signal Colonel Amir to begin his attack run on Master One.”

* * *

Amir rested his head against the neck rest inside of the cockpit of his SF-106 Phantom space superiority fighter. I will never get tired of flying these things. With a full load out of squadrons assigned to the Lion, he now had to give orders and maintain control over more fighters and bombers than he’d ever commanded in his career. He used the neural interface with his craft to pull up the tactical plot and quickly checked to see if the one hundred sixty-eight combat spacecraft from his wing were all in space and accounted for. There were no yellow or red status lights; this indicated that the entire wing was in space and ready to fight.

“Now that is a sight,” said Major Rebecca Tulleny, her upper-class British accent cutting into Amir’s thoughts.

“What sight is that?” Amir responded after cueing his communication channel to the private two-way channel in the command net specifically for the CAG and his deputy.

“A League fleet carrier that’s about to be wiped out of the universe.”

“As Allah wills it.”

Lieutenant Taylor’s voice cut into the chatter between the two pilots. “Colonel Amir, this is Lieutenant Taylor. Colonel Cohen is ordering the Lion’s flight wing to engage Master One. Good hunting and Godspeed!”

Amir adjusted his tactical scanner, directing it forward. “And now, we get to take one of these things out for real. You know how many times I’ve made a run at the League fleet carrier only to have it disengage?”

“Too many times,” Tulleny said through the static of the communication channel.

Amir flipped his communication channel to broadcast to all fighters within the Lion’s wing. “Pilots, this is CAG Amir. We’ve been ordered to commence our attack run against Master One. Space superiority fighters…form up around our heavy bombers. Time is of the essence… we must prevent the Tours from launching its fighter squadrons. Amir out!”

“Here goes nothing,” Tulleny said in her typical deadpan style.

“I think our best chance to inflict real damage is to volley fire our anti-ship missiles into the hangar deck areas of the Tours and hope for secondary explosions.”

“I concur, Colonel; I’ll form up the bombers for that attack profile. Just keep those League fighters off us.”

“Have I ever let you down in that department?”.

“Never.”

“Good hunting, Major. Insula Allah,” Amir said, invoking an Arabic phrase for “if God wills it.”

Amir flipped his communication network to the channel used by his squadron. “Reapers, break left, form on me. We’re going to engage the enemy CSP. Initiate max speed!”

Toggling up the throttle on his fighter, Amir was instantly pressed backward in his seat. With the inertial dampeners at maximum, he still felt five Gs—or five times normal earth gravity—pressing him down. His craft was pulling close to fifteen Gs, enough to kill any normal human without a working inertial dampener.

Amir glanced up at the heads-up display, or HUD, that was projected into the canopy of his fighter’s cockpit. He noted with satisfaction that his squadron had formed a perfect sphere around his spacecraft, just as they had drilled so many times in training. Turning his attention to the forward-facing LIDAR scanner, he realized that the Tours’ entire CSP hurtled through space toward them. Well, they’ve got guts, I’ll give them that. Six League fighters versus the wing of Terran Coalition spacecraft was no contest at all.

“Reapers, tally ho! Six bandits at twelve o’clock. Weapons free!” Amir announced into his mic.

Lining up the first League fighter to enter maximum range of his fighter, Amir waited a moment to receive a missile lock-on tone. “Reaper one, Fox three!” The missile sprang away from his craft, its engine roaring as soon he depressed the fire button.

“Reaper three, Fox three!” another pilot called out. Amir watched his tactical plot as it showed a dozen LIDAR tracking warheads racing toward the League fighters from his squadron. The icons for the League fighters began to blink out one by one as the missiles connected and blew them out of space.

“Kill six! I say again, kill six! Good shooting, Reapers!”

The way is clear, Amir reflected, looking at the LIDAR display on his HUD. He flipped the communication channel to Tulleny’s channel. “Major, we need to put as many anti-ship missiles on target as possible.”

“Understood, Colonel.”

“Don’t bother with making passes and obtaining locks. Force the missiles to manual release mode, get point blank, and ripple fire everything you’ve got.”

“That’s a bit risky, don’t you think?” Tulleny questioned him.

“It’s a risk that’s justified by taking down one of four known operating League fleet carriers in our space.”

“Aye, sir. We’re moving to engage.”

Amir again turned up the throttle to maximum, his craft racing forward in the vacuum, his mind filled with fury. “Allu Akbar,” he said out loud and pushed back in his seat, looking forward to the destruction of the Tours.

3

Back in the expansive bridge/combat information center onboard the Lion of Judah, David focused on engaging the League fleet carrier; he could see from his tactical plot that the Lion’s consorts had made short work of the Tours’ destroyer escorts.

“Conn, TAO. Enemy CSP neutralized, sir,” Ruth said.

“TAO, firing point procedures, Master One. Target all available Hunter and Starbolt missiles forward VRLS, make tubes twenty-one through one hundred and twenty ready in all respects.”

“Aye aye, sir, firing solution set, tubes twenty-one through one hundred and twenty ready in all respects.”

“TAO, firing point procedures, Master One, mag-cannons, and neutron beams.”

“Aye aye, sir, firing solution set.”

“TAO, shoot, mag-cannons and neutron beams.”

“Conn, TAO. Multiple impacts on Master One, sir. Master One’s shields continue to hold,” Ruth said.

Aibek looked at David with his eyebrows scrunched together. “What’s the plan, sir?”

David glanced over at Aibek momentarily before going back to his tactical plot. “Hammer their shields, and then combine our missile volley with the bombers attack to overload their remaining energy shields and armor. Cause as much damage as possible, then attack the flight decks with our mag-cannons.”

“That makes sense, sir.”

“Conn, TAO. Friendly fast movers are engaging Master One, sir.”

“TAO, put the visual image up on my display.”

A video from the Lion’s forward imaging array popped onto David’s personal monitor. Aibek squeezed over to get the best look he could his chair. It showed the flight of four bomber squadrons closing fast with the League’s fleet carrier before firing off dozens of missiles. “Smart. Amir had his bomber pilots mass fire their anti-ship missiles at short range,” David commented.

Aibek nodded. “An effective tactic.”

“TAO, shoot, all missiles,” David said, sending the Lion’s missile armament into the fray. They had twenty Hunters and eighty Starbolt missiles left in the forward vertical missile launch array; the weapons thundered out of the Lion, causing the ship to lurch to one side as they roared out of their tubes in unison.

“Conn, TAO. All missiles running hot, straight, and normal, sir.”

David watched on his monitor, which he switched back to the standard tactical plot, as the Lion’s salvo raced across space and impacted onto the shields of the massive League carrier. After eighty percent of their weapons had smashed into its surface, the defensive screens on the Tours failed. As his mind raced to form the words to target and shoot at the Tours further, Ruth interrupted his thoughts.

“Conn, TAO! Detecting Lawrence drive activation from Master One.”

Argh, we’re out of time.

“Navigation, emergency intercept on Master One. Line us up as fast as you can!”

“Aye aye, sir,” Hammond said crisply.

David counted off four seconds and hoped his navigator was as good as he thought she was. “TAO, snap shot, forward particle beams one through four, Master One.” It’s a risk, but more than worth it; taking out a League fleet carrier is the stuff of legends.

“Snap shot, forward particle beams, Master One, aye, sir,” Ruth said as she rapidly depressed the controls on her console to fire the four forward-facing particle beams mounted along the ventral axis of the ship. They could only shoot directly ahead and counted on precise aiming. A snap shot was a Hail Mary; it meant firing the weapons without an affirmative firing solution and without matching bearings with the target.

The four particle beams radiated with power and erupted into the vacuum. The two to the port side of the ship missed entirely, hitting nothing but empty space. The two on the starboard side of the Lion connected. The top beam grazed the Tours, blasting armor plating off its hull, but the lower beam impacted straight onto one of the large hangar bays on the Tours’ port side. It drilled through meters of armor, blasting through the ship’s superstructure, and out the other side. A couple of seconds passed, and secondary explosions blossomed around the area the beam struck. Massive chunks of the League carrier exploded from the inside out, and the area around them turned molten.

Watching it play out on his monitor, David was in awe at the raw power the Lion had to project. This ship is a thing of wonder.

Ruth interrupted his thoughts. “Conn, TAO! Master One is venting atmosphere and scans show it has lost all primary power. I’m showing escape pods launching. Master One has been neutralized!”

A shout went up on the bridge as the junior officers, and enlisted ratings cheered. Ever the strict disciplinarian, Master Chief Tinetariro, silenced the outburst. “As you were! Maintain proper bridge protocols, or I’ll have anyone who doesn’t comply removed!”

The tumult ceased immediately. David, while excited himself, stared forward with his mask of professionalism.

Taylor spoke up, “Sir, the Tours is requesting communication with us.”

“Put it through to my viewer, Lieutenant.”

A video feed from the stricken vessel came into focus on David’s personal monitor. The grim and blood-smeared face of a junior League officer appeared. “Coalition Defense Force vessel, this is Lieutenant Zina Naoumov, the ranking officer onboard the LX Tours. We are requesting a cease-fire.”

David stared at the young woman for a moment, assuming she was like many League officers, of Russian descent, based on her name and her obvious accented English. “This is the Commanding Officer of the CSV Lion of Judah, Colonel David Cohen. What are your intentions?”

“Would you be willing to discuss our surrender?”

David could see in her facial expression how her lips drooped down, and her shoulders sagged, that not only was she defeated, but ashamed. “Of course, Lieutenant. Stand down your weapons and prepare to be boarded. I give you my word if your crew doesn’t resist; no harm will come to them.”

“What will happen to us?”

“You will be remanded to the custody of CDF Security, and put in a POW camp for the duration of the war. We will treat you with dignity, provide living quarters, food, and exercise as per the Canaan Alliance charter regarding the treatment of POWs.”

“Very well, Colonel. The Tours surrenders.”

“I accept your surrender, Lieutenant. Our Marines will arrive shortly. Ensure that all weapons are stowed and no resistance is offered. If it is…the Marines will use deadly force.”

“There shall be no resistance. I give my word of honor.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant. Lion of Judah out.”

David sat back slowly in his seat. Aibek looked over at him. “Are you sure we should waste the resources on transporting them to a POW camp?”

David raised his eyebrows. “Please tell me that’s a joke.”

Aibek snorted. “Don’t you have citizens of your own planets that go without three hot meals a day as you put it? Why waste the money on these… vermin?”

“Most of them are conscripts, forced to fight. They have no control over their destiny. I doubt most of them want to be out here, fighting us daily. The League’s communist system forces them to do what they do, and if they refuse, their families are exiled to their remote border planets or worse. What would you have us do, execute them all?”

Aibek’s face morphed into an amused smile. “Of course not, Colonel! I’m not barbaric… I’d make them build ships for us to fight their former comrades.”

“Slave labor? Set aside the fact that it’s morally wrong and something we stand against as a people… do you really think that League POWs forced to build things for us wouldn’t take every opportunity to sabotage whatever they were assigned to do?”

“That’s a compelling argument for executing them, Colonel,” Aibek said with another toothy grin.

“That’s outrageous, we’re…” David paused, realizing that Aibek was employing his dry Saurian brand of humor. “You got me there, Colonel.”

Aibek laughed. “You humans simply aren’t used to my sense of humor.”

“Conn, Communications. Colonel Amir reports his wing is beginning to sweep the area for escape pods. He also reports no losses or damage among his wing,” Taylor announced.

David glanced at Aibek. “Not bad. We just wiped out a League task force and fleet carrier…without losing a single fighter or ship of our own. I’ll take that. Communications, raise Admiral Kartal’s flagship and alert the command duty officer to our success.”

“Aye, sir.”

“TAO, stand down condition one. Rig the ship for condition two.”

“Aye, sir, standing down condition one and moving the ship to condition two.”

The lights immediately switched from the deep blue hue of condition one to standard white lights. David punched up the intercom link on his command chair for the Air Boss; the officer that controlled all flights in and out of the Lion’s expansive flight deck. “Boss, this is Colonel Cohen. Launch search and rescue. There are quite a few League escape pods to collect.”

“Understood, Colonel. S&R is on its way.”

That duty discharged, David punched in a new intercom code; Calvin’s Marine Expeditionary Unit command center. A moment later, Calvin’s cheery voice was on the intercom. “Colonel Demood.”

“Colonel, ready to go round up some prisoners from the Tours?”

“That sounds like a mission for the Marines. We’ll be happy to oblige, sir.”

“They’ve agreed to surrender, Colonel. Order your Marines to load their weapons with non-lethal rounds. However, if you encounter resistance, you may use any force required to secure that ship. Clear?”

“Yes, sir. We’ll clean them out. Want us to raise the Terran Coalition flag on that ship?”

David and Aibek snickered at the same time. “Go for it, Colonel.”

“Demood out.”

David sat back in his chair. “Damage report, XO?”

“No damage aside from a couple of singes on the paint, sir. No casualties on the Lion or our escorts.”

“Conn, Communications. I have Admiral Kartal for you, sir,” Taylor interjected.

“Put it on my viewer, Lieutenant.”

Admiral Resit Kartal, an imposing Saurian of considerable height, measuring more than six feet eight inches, came into focus on David’s monitor. He wore what looked like a CDF uniform, but with Saurian rank insignia, medals, and badges. Either Saurians like to give out awards or this guy is the real deal.

“Admiral Kartal, greetings, sir,” David said.

“Greetings, Colonel Cohen. I understand you have engaged the Tours and that the battle was victorious.”

“Yes, sir, it was. Thanks to the timely intelligence of the CSV Oxford, we got the drop on them. The Tours has been disabled, her escorts destroyed, and we took no losses. Clean sweep, sir.” As David finished his sentence, a wide grin broke out on his face. I probably shouldn’t be so happy we just pasted these guys and killed thousands of them, but that felt good. A few more victories like this and the League will run all the way back to Earth.

“My compliments to you and your crew, Colonel. Make sure that embedded reporter files a good story on it. We need morale to stay high, as always.”

“Of course, sir. What are our orders?”

“Resume your patrol, Colonel Cohen. Continue to attack targets of opportunity. Once the Joint Chiefs of Staff of our respective militaries have finalized the next phase of our battle plan, we’ll brief you and the rest of our operational leaders. Godspeed, Kartal out.”

Ah, so it’s another day in the office after all. I’d better have a talk with that reporter and make sure she’s on the same page as the rest of us.

4

Angie Denman, the embedded reporter from the Galactic News Network on the Lion of Judah, strode quickly down the corridor toward Colonel Cohen’s office. Not a corridor… it’s called a passageway. I should remember that… I did this for four years. Smiling to herself as she pressed the buzzer next to a wall plate that read “Commanding Officer—CSV Lion of Judah,” Angie waited for the door to open.

“Come!” David yelled from within his office, and the door slid open automatically.

Angie walked into the office as David stood. She’d noticed he’d always get up when she walked in. Either he’s a gentleman, or I put him off somehow.

“Ms. Denman, a pleasure.”

“Angie, please. I’ve been here for four weeks now.”

David gestured to the chairs in front of his desk; Angie sat down first, after which David also sat. Angie’s eyes roamed over David’s workspace; she continued to be amused by his selection of knickknacks, but mostly at the hand grenade attached to a piece of wood with a plaque on it that read “Complaint Department, please take a number.” There was a little piece of plastic with a “1” on it that hung off the firing pin. It seemed to fit David’s style: brash, unapologetic, and politically incorrect.

“How are you today, Colonel?”

“Oh, all things considered, not a bad day. We defeated a League carrier and its battlegroup and didn’t lose a single soldier or pilot.”

“Well, at least not on our side.”

“That’s true. The League lost at least ten thousand soldiers today.”

“Your note said you wanted to discuss GNN’s coverage?” Angie’s voice trailed off after asking the question. In truth, she was always apprehensive discussing her reports.

“Ms. Den…,” David stopped himself mid-word. “Angie, I understand that GNN’s policy is that it’s a neutral reporter of facts. But you’re on the ground here with us. On the sharp tip of the spear, so to speak. I read your background report before I agreed to allow you on my ship. I know you served in the CDF to the point you were promoted to sergeant before the end of your four-year enlistment. Heck, making E-5 in four years is a feat in and of itself. What I don’t understand is why your reports from the Lion lack…gusto.”

“You mean, why aren’t I promoting the successes and downplaying the failures?”

David smiled thinly at her. “What failures? We haven’t lost yet.”

Oh, I could so pop that ego of his. “‘Yet’ being the operative word in that sentence, Colonel.”

“David, please.”

“The point still stands, David. We’re not a propaganda arm for the Coalition Defense Force. We report the news straight down the middle. If you want cheerleading, you might want to look into getting a reporter from Canaan News Network on your ship.” Angie smiled as she finished her statement.

“I asked for an embed from Canaan News Network but was denied.”

“Are you saying you don’t want me around?”

David’s expression softened. “Not at all. I respect your reporting, and I respect that you believe in being neutral. However, I don’t completely buy that GNN is neutral. The ambush interview I had with Leslie Sharp a few months ago, for instance, is exhibit A.”

“Would it surprise you to know I howled with how you ripped her apart on that live holonet broadcast?”

David’s eyebrows shot up. “It would indeed.”

“Ms. Sharp’s shrill attacks on the military aren’t neutral, and they undermine the credibility of the entire network. It was nice seeing her knocked down a few pegs. Not that you’d ever catch me saying that in public.”

“I would say to you that however you may feel, Ms. Sharp’s point of view is the reigning one at GNN.”

“Even if that’s true, and I don’t think it is… I’m better served by working for GNN and being neutral, rather than cheering on the military from a studio at Canaan News… besides, I’m a brunette, not blonde. They only have blondes on the air.”

David laughed. “Would you consider highlighting some of the positives? Especially the fact that no one died on our side today. Any day I don’t have to write a wife, a mother, a husband, or a father and tell them their loved one died is a good day.”

Angie stared at David for a moment. He really cares about the people under his command. I thought it was an act at first, but he does. “I’ll see what I can do there, David. That is something worth reporting.”

“I’m curious. E-5 in four years and you still got out? I suspect you could have gone far in the public affairs office.”

“I don’t work well with rigid command structures I’m not allowed to question.”

“Then why’d you make it to E-5?”

“Because I apply myself to anything I’m in. If it’s worth doing, it’s worth doing right.”

“I feel much the same way,” David said, his eyes dropping as if he’d remembered something.

“You know, I read the biographic sheet the CDFs released on you. You wanted to be a rabbi, and now you’re commanding the largest ship in the CDF. One named after Jesus Christ, for that matter.”

“My life didn’t go on the path I thought it would. I suspect that’s true in most people’s lives. As for the Lion being named after Jesus, I prefer to think it’s named after King David.”

“It seems as if you did a lot of studying toward being a rabbi.”

David laughed again. “I like to read. It’s fun. My father used to say you could go anywhere in a book. You’ve got me at a slight disadvantage on this subject, though. My religion is well-known, thanks to the patch on my shoulder. You don’t have one.”

And now comes the awkward part. I wonder how he will react? Angie smiled. “I don’t have a religion.”

David’s eyebrows shot up. “Atheist?”

“No, I’m not convinced there is no God. I just don’t know if there is or isn’t and make no judgment on the subject.”

“Agnostic then, as it were?”

“Yes, I think that’s the label currently in use,” Angie replied, uncomfortable with the topic.

“May I ask why?”

Angie took note of David’s piercing gaze as he asked the question before she replied. “I don’t see enough evidence to convince me there’s a higher power. And if there is, why that power would allow the kind of barbaric acts that occur every day.”

“I beg to differ. There’s ample evidence that we’re not simply here by random chance.”

Angie tilted her head to one side. Oh great. Now he’s going to try to convert me. Let’s see how good he is. “Such as? I’m aware that it’s considered scientific consensus, at least among non-atheist scientists, that the universe as we know it is finely tuned for life. But that argument has many problems.”

“Really… The statistical odds of the conditions for life in our universe are so astronomical that it defies explanation as anything other than a planned event, controlled by an outside force. Even the big bang itself cannot be explained as a natural event.”

“If you go solely on the thought that our carbon-based life is the only type of life possible, yes. But it’s also entirely within reason that our universe simply presented a set of baselines for life, and life took it. Purely by random chance.”

“I could go back and forth with you on that point for hours, especially around the fact we’ve never found anything but carbon-based life beyond the microbial stage. But I wonder if I could offer you something else to consider. There’s a yes or no answer to the question; is there a higher power that created the universe, correct?”

“Yes, I would agree with that.”

“Then look at it like this. If there’s a higher power, and we humans choose to worship him, to believe, to do as best we can in our flawed way, what he has laid down as his laws, we have an infinite gain. If we ignore those laws, if we turn our back on him, then we’d have an infinite loss. An eternity spent with our souls in anguish. Christians and Muslims would tell you that’s hell. Jews believe it’s simply being tossed out, and alone. Neither sounds appetizing to me.”

“But what if there isn’t a creator? Then all that time spent worshiping him is for nothing.”

David smiled. “If there isn’t a God, and ‘we’—as you put it—waste our time on our beliefs, our loss is finite. It’s just some of the time we have here in this universe. And if there isn’t a creator and we don’t believe in him, then we have finite gain as well because nothing exists beyond this state of being.”

“I’m not sure where you’re going,” Angie said more as a statement than a question.

“To believe in God and try to keep his precepts, obey his commandments, the worst you can do is a finite loss. To not believe in God, to ignore Him, the worst you can do is an infinite loss. You’re in effect gambling with your soul for all eternity. From a logical point of view, if you have a choice between a possible finite loss and a possible infinite loss, you should take the finite loss every time. I can’t take credit for that argument, mind you. It’s called Pascal’s Wager, and it’s one of the earliest forms of decision theory.”

“I’ve never heard that before. If nothing else, it's interesting,” Angie smiled.

David smiled in return. “Well, give it some thought, then.”

“Is there anything else, David?”

“Not that I can think of. Thank you for dropping by.”

Angie stood up from her chair, and as she did, she had a sudden thought. “David, how about this? I do a sit-down interview with you, and you can discuss the successes of the last few weeks. I’ll let you see the final cut before I send it back to GNN for broadcast. That way, you can get your point of view across, and I can stay neutral.” And I’ll get a scoop out of it too.

David’s face remained neutral for a second or two before he broke into a grin. “I’ll have to clear that with General MacIntosh and Admiral Kartal, but it sounds like a good idea to me.”

“Great. I’ll see you around.”

* * *

Deep within the bowels of the Lion of Judah, Kenneth Lowe occupied his small, cramped office. Reviewing paperwork for change orders from one of the engineering teams that was fine-tuning the power regulation systems and shields on the Lion, he made some notations in the margins of the document before signing it and sending it back to CDF Fleet Support for approval. As he was working, the door chime went off; he’d set his office door to do-not-disturb mode an hour previously so he could catch up on paperwork.

“Come!”

The door slid open, allowing Joshua Carter, Kenneth’s overall right-hand man, and Kevin Billings, an older lead for one of the engineering teams, to enter. “Josh, Master Chief. Come on in, gents.” He waved them in. “Have a seat.”

Carter and Billings plopped down in the two chairs in front of Kenneth’s desk. “Boss, you know I didn’t earn that rank,” Billings said.

“Perhaps not, but what’s a master chief do on a ship? Keeps the younger soldiers in line, teaches them, guides them, and above all, finds a way to get things done. That’s exactly what you do for your team.” Kenneth smiled. “Couldn’t do this crap without you.”

“Thanks, boss.”

“What can I do for you gentlemen today?”

Carter and Billings exchanged glances; Kenneth thought that it looked like they were trying to get the other to go first.

“Well, we’re starting to hear some complaints about all of the overtime,” Carter finally said.

“We’re in a combat zone; there’s going to be overtime, lots of it. We’re getting paid for our trouble too.”

“Yes, sir, I realize that, but some of the guys are starting to grouse that they didn’t sign up for this.”

“How many?”

“Enough that it’s reaching our ears.”

“Suggestions?” Kenneth asked the two men.

“I could PT them around the main hangar bay, sir,” Billings said with a mischievous grin.

“No, that’s not the answer. We’re civilians, not military.”

Carter leaned forward. “I think a few words from you directly on the subject would go a long way, sir.”

“We could try to arrange for a staggered day off too, so each team gets one day a week where they’re not on duty unless we’re in a battle situation.”

“That sounds reasonable to me.”

“Master Chief, your thoughts?”

“That works for me too, sir.”

“Excellent.” Kenneth smiled. “Where are we at with turnover and training for the military engineering crew?”

“It’s going slowly. They’ve only been onboard for a couple of months now. Our team has spent years working this ship,” Carter said.

Kenneth nodded. “I want you to move our teams to a role of showing the military crew how to do it once, then stepping back and letting them fumble their way through the repair or upgrade, only interjecting themselves if asked.”

“Okay…but won’t that take a lot more time?” Billings asked.

“Yes, it will. But at some point, we’ll no longer be on the ship. It’s vital that the green suiters understand how to do this work.”

“You got it, boss.”

“Oh, I’ve meant to ask…” Kenneth pointed to a wooden desk plaque that had appeared on his desk in the middle of the night. It read El Director—Kenneth Lowe. “Who was behind this?”

“Uhhhhh….” Billings stammered.

“Joshua?” David asked.

“Well, I’m not sure.”

“Should I pull the door logs?”

The two men looked at each other again. “It was a group effort,” Carter said. “All of the leads put in together for it, and we had it delivered on the last supply run.”

Kenneth laughed loudly. “That’s awesome. Well, I love it, so it’s staying put. Alright, guys, let’s get back to work.”

5

September 11th, 2460

CSV Lion of Judah

CDF Resupply Depot Delta Hotel Four

“Looks like we’re getting more Hunter missiles than usual this time around,” Ruth said as she reviewed the munitions resupply manifest from her console.

David nodded with satisfaction. “Three hundred Hunters in a total resupply of eight hundred missiles isn’t shabby, Lieutenant.” Hunter missiles were always in short supply, as they utilized an advanced artificial intelligence package to allow them to penetrate League point defense systems easily. They represented the best offensive missile system that either side deployed.

“This system of forward supply depots is quite interesting to me, Colonel,” Aibek said as he watched the resupply operation with interest. “Leapfrogging repair ships and mobile drydocks with the fleet, coupled with numerous resupply vessels is intriguing.”

David smiled. “Well, it’s said that professionals deal with logistics. Without resupply, we’d be unable to fight. There’s a lot of folks that spend their entire careers planning deep space logistical missions. I’m just thankful that our respective militaries have been able to work together so far to make it all happen.”

“I think I would die of boredom if my job consisted of moving pieces of equipment from one place to another,” Aibek quipped. “I am a warrior.”

Ruth turned around in her chair to look back at the two of them. “Armies march on their stomachs, XO. If you don’t believe that, go to the crew mess and see the near riot that breaks out if chow is late.”

David laughed out loud. “Some things never do change.”

Taylor interrupted their bantering. “Conn, communications. I have a video link request from General MacIntosh for you, sir. It’s marked for your eyes only.”

“Pipe it to my day cabin, Lieutenant. I’ll take the vidlink there. XO, you have the conn.”

“This is the XO, I have the conn,” Aibek intoned; after a couple of months on the Lion, he had become well-versed in CDF procedures and had taken to them quite well.

David walked out of the bridge and into the passageway that led to the gravlift. He removed his cover as he crossed the threshold of the bridge and acknowledged the salutes of the two marine guards that perpetually stood watch outside of the hatch. It was only a few more steps to his day cabin, which served as his office and a rack in which to grab some sleep during combat situations that lasted for long periods of time. He slid into the chair behind his desk, which was adorned with numerous mementos from his career, and used his fingerprint to unlock the tablet locked into the docking station. A moment later, its screen snapped on with an active vidlink request from General MacIntosh.

David pressed the button on the screen marked Activate Video Link, and a moment later, MacIntosh’s face appeared on the screen. “Good morning, Colonel.”

“Good morning to you too, sir.”

“How’s your resupply going?”

“Very well, sir. We should be finished later today and ready to rejoin the fight.” There’s no way he spent all the communication credits required for a vidlink to see if we’re getting resupplied on time.

“There’s a week-long pause on the advance while we conduct ship repairs and bring up new pilots and replacement small craft. The announcement will go out later this morning in official orders.”

“I see, sir. Does that mean the Lion will have a different assignment?” David asked.

“Quite perceptive of you, Colonel. Yes, I have a small errand for you to run. I’m sure you’ve read about how the neutral planets that border our space and the League’s invasion of our galactic arm have been a proxy for the overall conflict?”

“Yes, sir, I have. We try to keep as many of them on our side as we can and convince them to join the Terran Coalition wherever possible.”

“That’s been a hard sell the last few years. Most of those planets have been drifting toward the League’s orbit. I think we’ve got an opportunity to change that now with the recent victories. Nothing helps the cause of getting people to switch horses mid-race than seeing the one they were betting on fall down in a heap.”

David cracked a smile at MacIntosh’s analogy; the old Scotsman had a way with words. “Quite, sir.”

“I want you to proceed to Monrovia and make contact with its government.”

“I’m not familiar with that planet, sir. I assume it's on the border?” David questioned.

“It was on the old border. Now it’s firmly within what we would call Terran Coalition controlled space. However, we're cautious about making sure the neutral planets understand that we’re not taking them over. We’d like for them to come to see the light and join us, but the Senate passed a bill by two-thirds majority yesterday, reaffirming the Terran Coalition’s commitment to freedom of self-determination for all neutral, human-controlled planets. A group of American and British settlers that didn’t feel the constitution of the Terran Coalition was right for them founded Monrovia, all the way back in 2238. Specifically, they have a clause in their constitution that outlaws the government from taking a position on religious belief in any way,” MacIntosh explained at length.

David pondered as the general spoke, trying to recall reading about the planet in school; but it was so long ago. Many facts just escaped his remembrance. “And they’ve been leaning toward the League in recent years?”

“Yes. There used to be robust economic ties between the Terran Coalition and Monrovia, but over the last couple of years, they’ve been doing a lot of trading with the League, and they’ve received some surplus League military hardware. Your mission will be to fly the flag; convince their government of our newfound combat abilities, and use the soft power we maintain, namely trading ties, to bring them closer in line with our side.”

“Sir, with respect, wouldn’t this mission be more suited for a diplomatic team? I’m a ship driver, sir.”

“The Department of Diplomatic Affairs and the president went back and forth on that, Colonel. In the end, intelligence estimates suggest that Monrovia’s primary motivation in gravitating toward the League is they feel they’re more likely to win the war and are a stronger power. The Lion and her recent success should tilt that opinion. I want you to pull out all the stops, invite the prime minister and his cabinet onboard, throw a state dinner, hell… give them a tour of anything on the ship that’s not classified. Do whatever it takes to succeed.”

“Yes, sir,” David said in a crisp, confident tone. “We’ll get it done.”

“Good. I’m hoping you can show us your diplomatic skills on this one. There’s more to being a successful capital ship commander than being able to win in combat. The mark of a true strategist is being able to win without firing a shot.”

David’s face curled into a grin. “I see you had to read Sun Tzu as well, sir.”

MacIntosh smirked. “You know, that works on most of my officers. They think I’m a fount of wisdom.”

“Well, sharing the wisdom of the masters of our craft never goes out of style. I try to do the same with those under my command.”

“Speaking of those under your command, how is your senior team shaking out?”

David immediately determined that MacIntosh was asking about Colonel Aibek. “The team is working well together, sir. I’m very pleased with the Saurian you picked as my XO. I can’t ask for anything more from him. He’s integrated himself well into the crew and earned their respect.”

“That’s what I was hoping for, Colonel. I’ve been monitoring your reports closely… what I said a few months back still holds. The Lion of Judah is leading the way on this integration experiment we’ve got going. Between Lieutenant Colonel Aibek and Admiral Kartal, we’re well on our way to success.”

“I’m trying not to let my hopes get too far ahead of the reality on the ground, but our outlook is so much better than it was six months ago,” David pursed his lips together in a rueful expression. “I had gotten to the point where I thought we were just buying time until the end.”

MacIntosh nodded, a thoughtful expression gracing his face. “I never gave up hope, mostly because of how strongly I believed in the Victory Project. But I’d be lying if I said I thought we’d be sweeping the League ahead of us, straight out of our arm of the galaxy.”

David grinned. “I’m looking forward to attaching a broom to our ship when we come back to Canaan’s station after we finish driving the League out. I’ll get out on the hull in a space suit myself and glue it on.”

“I’ll help you do it once we’ve earned the right for that particular celebration, Colonel. Now, you’ve got your orders. When can you get underway to Monrovia?”

“Is 0800 CMT tomorrow too late, sir?”

“No, that will be fine, Colonel. Good luck, take care and Godspeed. MacIntosh out.”

The screen faded to black as the vidlink cut out. David leaned back in his chair, thinking about the Lion’s newest assignment. Diplomacy, not something I’ve really done before. But the general’s right; a capital ship commander is the representative of the Terran Coalition out on the frontier and is expected to handle military as well as diplomatic missions. At least I have a great team to call on in the crew of this ship. Together, we’ll get through it.

David sprang up from the chair and pulled down his uniform shirt and the sweater over it. He decided to go back to the bridge and call a briefing of the senior staff; getting everyone in the right frame of mind would be crucial to the success of their latest assignment.

* * *

Later that afternoon, David had requested Angie’s presence in his day cabin, both to brief her on the upcoming mission and to discuss how his interview was presented. This business of having to sell the press on our activities…ugh. I much preferred my only interaction with the media being tossing my tablet across the room when some talking head trashed the military and said we were child killers. When her smiling face appeared in the middle of the hatch, he realized that she was always punctual, a trait he much appreciated.

David stood. “Come in, Ms. Dinman.”

“Thank you, Colonel Cohen.”

“Please, have a seat,” David said, gesturing to the chairs; he sat after she did.

“What can I do for you, Colonel?”

“Well, we’re about to undertake a different type of mission, and I wanted to make you aware of it.”

“Oh?”

“We’re being sent to Monrovia for a port call and consultations with their leadership.”

“Ah, one of the neutral planets that’s fallen out of our orbit. It makes sense to send the new symbol of Terran Coalition might to get them back into line.”

David grimaced. “That is not our intent. Simply to fly the flag and let them know we’re here and able to help defend their right to exist as an independent planet. As you know, we’ve pledged to uphold the independence of all neutral worlds, and that’s a promise we back up with force.”

“But one that isn’t always honored. There are certainly times when the Terran Coalition is unable to defend neutral planets… or our own, for that matter.”

“I’ll concede the point.”

“It also seems that planets with strong trade relationships with us or natural resources we need to build ships and weapons somehow jump to the top of the list for protection.”

“I’m sure the planners back on Canaan weigh all aspects when deciding how to allocate our limited military force,” David said neutrally.

“You seriously think we do what we do out here for altruistic reasons, Colonel?”

“I think that we generally do the right things for the right reasons as a people.”

“Rose-colored glasses, I see.”

“I could say that you’re needlessly cynical.”

“Goes with the job.”

David laughed. “You should have stayed in the service. You’d fit in well with the Marines.”

“Will there be any press availability when you talk to the Prime Minister of Monrovia?”

“If we get a formal sit down, of course. Not the initial contact, though.”

Angie nodded. “Is there anything else, Colonel?”

“I did want to discuss the interview you did with me after we destroyed the Tours.”

“I told you, I wasn’t going to give you input on it before I aired the piece, Colonel. I must maintain my impartiality.”

“I understand,” David said, trying to soften his voice. “I simply wanted to compliment you on it. I didn’t agree with every cut and take, but I thought you did a good job of presenting a fair and balanced look at the ship.”

Angie looked surprised for a moment, then smiled. “In that case, I’ll take your compliment in the spirit it seems to be offered and thank you for agreeing to the discussion.”

“Maybe we’ll do it again sometime,” David replied.

“Once we do something newsworthy again, sure.”

“I doubt much will happen that’s newsworthy, as you put it, on Monrovia. But who knows… we’ll see.”

“That we will, Colonel. Well, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get ready to file my daily update.”

“Of course, Ms. Dinman,” David said as he stood up.

Angie stood and made eye contact with him. “Good day, Colonel.”

David watched her walk out of his office and shook his head. Can’t figure out what her angle is yet, he thought. Maybe she’s just trying to do a good job and present the facts. That would be a very welcome change.

6

David had planned the Lion’s final jump to Monrovia for execution during the middle of the first watch, ensuring that he and the core bridge crew would be rested and prepared. He’d found that one of the harder things in ship operations was to time engagements so that the A-players were ready to go; while the second and third watch crews were competent, they weren’t quite to the same level as the first watch, which had more experience. A diplomatic mission, though, was far easier to plan out.

Space tore itself open in a shower of multi-colored particles and the Lion of Judah neatly glided out of the artificial wormhole it had created to bridge the points between its previous location and the planet. David still marveled, after all these years, at the technology required to make faster-than-light travel possible. So far, every race they had encountered possessed similar technology, but there was speculation that there were other ways to achieve FTL travel, none of which were yet proven.

“Conn, navigation. Emergence from Lawrence drive jump within five hundred kilometers of the target,” Hammond said.

“Good work, Lieutenant,” David replied, impressed with that level of precision across nearly fifty lightyears of space. “Communications, please signal Monrovia; they expect our presence.”

“Aye aye, sir!” Taylor said, going silent as he worked the controls on his console. “Sir, I have the prime minister’s office for you.”

“Put it on my personal viewer,” A moment later, the face and upper body of a neatly dressed human male popped onto the screen directly above David’s head.

“Colonel Cohen, I presume?” the man began, and in response to David’s nod, continued. “I am Sefton Garner, special assistant to Prime Minister Fitzroy, Unified Government of Monrovia. How can we be of assistance?”

“Thank you, Mr. Garner. I’m scheduled to have a discussion with the prime minister this morning via vidlink.”

Garner smiled widely. “Yes, Colonel. I have that all prepared. If you could wait a moment while I let the prime minister know you’re ready?”

“Of course,” David replied, his lips forming a smile on his own.

The video link snapped off, and David was left looking at a blank screen. “They seem pleasant enough,” Aibek said.

“Well, that’s his job, after all, XO.”

“Quite right. Perhaps the prime minister will be equally pleasant?”

“We live in hope.”

“Conn, communications! I have the prime minister for you, sir.”

David cleared his throat. “Put her on, Lieutenant.”

The smiling face of a human woman filled the viewer above David’s head. “Colonel Cohen! Such a pleasure to meet you, even if it is by vidlink. Welcome to Monrovia! Allow me to introduce myself; Prime Minister Colleen Fitzroy.”

“The pleasure is mine, Prime Minister,” David said, remembering his briefing from MacIntosh about the proper use of diplomacy. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with us.”

“How could we turn down a request to discuss the state of affairs in the galaxy from our friends in the Terran Coalition?”

“Well, I believe we can always improve relations... especially with the recent changes in the balance of power.”

Fitzroy laughed. “Is that an oblique reference to us moving closer to the League when it appeared they were going to win, Colonel?”

David smiled. “None was intended, Prime Minister.”

“It’s very true that the balance of power has dramatically shifted. It is also true that government policy takes time to develop and change. Monrovia has had a stated goal of no longer being under the thumb of either of the major human powers. We’ve made great strides toward that.”

“The Terran Coalition simply hopes to work with your people to help them in any way we can, or barring that, be a good neighbor.”

Fitzroy nodded. “A worthy goal, Colonel Cohen. But not one we can achieve overnight. Any steps toward that goal will be slow and steady.”

“I understand, Prime Minister. May I suggest that we meet in person to discuss the situation? I was hoping to avail my crew of your famous hospitality with shore leave.”

“I’d be happy to entertain you and your senior staff, Colonel. Unfortunately, we’ve had some civil unrest recently that will preclude shore leave for your ship at large. I’m sure you understand.”

David raised an eyebrow at the mention of civil unrest. “I wasn’t aware of those issues, Prime Minister, but of course we understand. Should I work with your assistant to determine a time and location for talks?”

“That would be great, Colonel. I look forward to meeting you in the flesh, so to speak,” Fitzroy said, giving off a radiant smile.

“Thank you, ma’am. We’ll be in touch; Lion of Judah out.”

The screen went dark, and David relaxed in his chair. “How’d we do for our first mission not blowing up League ships, XO?”

Aibek snorted. “We’re not done here yet. Have I mentioned I detest politicians?”

“Only a few dozen times this week,” David said in a tone of mock reproach.

“I’ll try to work on that, sir.”

“You do that, XO. Communications, contact the prime minister’s assistant and let’s nail down a time for our next meeting.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

* * *

Jacqueline Ericksen rolled out of bed as her alarm clock buzzed loudly, announcing that another day was upon her. A major in the Monrovian National Guard, she had a desk job on one of the largest military installations on the planet. Flying through her shower and putting on the uniform of the day, she was in the middle of making a bowl of cereal for herself when a soft vibrating from under the table jolted her out of the usual morning routine. She reached under the table and pulled the communication device from where it was taped to the bottom of the wood, lifting it to her ear.

“It’s a lovely day in the forest,” Erickson said into the comm.

“As it always is after a rain,” the disembodied voice on the other end of the call replied, the proper code phrase in return to hers.

“Do you have orders for me?”

“Yes. We’ve confirmed that the Terran Coalition vessel is in orbit. Your mission is to send the transmission to it, as previously agreed.”

Ericksen’s heart tightened in her chest. I always knew that this day would come because of my position, but I was hoping I’d have more time, or something would change and our leaders would see the light. Too late now for second-guessing. “I understand. Will I have any assistance?”

“We’ve got an asset on the inside that will help you. He’ll make contact in the communications room on base. We’ve manipulated the turnover schedule today, so they’ll be short by two technicians. Between the two of you, I expect you’ll be able to neutralize the remaining technician and send the transmission before the nearest military police contingent arrives,” the synthesized voice answered.

“Is there an egress route?”

After a pregnant pause on the line, the voice replied, “After getting the message out, take local transport off the base. Onsite security personnel should be confused enough not to realize what’s going on.”

That’s absolute BS, and we both know it. “Roger that. What time am I meeting my contact?”

“0930 hours. He’ll be in a green shirt and will use the code phrase ‘Nighttime is peaceful, isn’t it?’”

“I’ll be there,” Ericksen said, forcing the panic from her voice.

“I know this isn’t going to be easy. But it’s the only chance we’ve got left to get help. Good luck. Walk with God,” the voice said with finality.

“Make it count, whoever in the hell you are,” Ericksen said as she hung up the comm. Clearing the cache on the device and erasing its data while she walked to her kitchen sink, she retrieved two bottles of chemicals from under it and poured them into the basin before tossing in the communications link. Mixed together, they formed a highly potent acid that would break down the plastic and metal within to the point it couldn’t be pieced back together—nothing for the secret police to trace back.

Turning around from the sink, she paused in front of a picture of her husband Gordan and herself on their wedding day. A tear formed in her eye as she fought back emotion; she found a piece of a paper and a pen to write with.

Gordan,

Whatever happens today, whatever you hear, know that I love you more than anything and that what I do, I do to save us all. Destroy this note, and I pray someday I will see you again in paradise.

– Your loving wife, Jackie

The letter written, she left it on the spot that he always dropped his commlink and wallet, confident that he would find it. And it shouldn’t cast any suspicion on him if the secret police find it before he does. Before leaving the house, she retrieved her military-issued sidearm and put it into a holster on the small of her back under her uniform. The task completed, she walked out of the house she had shared with her husband for the last five years for what was likely the last time.

Ericksen slid into her automated car, punching in the military base where she worked as a destination. After backing the car out of the driveway and putting into autopilot mode, she sat back with nothing else to do but think. Monrovia wasn’t large enough to justify the infrastructure behind helicars, and so only the very rich and powerful had those. Ordinary citizens had to sit in traffic, and she was no exception.

Reflecting on the task ahead of her, Ericksen recited her favorite passage from the Bible as her electric car zipped through the streets. “Therefore, put on the whole armor of God,” she said, “that you may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, stand.” Closing her eyes, she finished with a prayer. “God, help me today, give me the strength to do what I need to do, the faith to see it through, and the ability to accomplish my goal if it is your will. Amen.”

She sat quietly in the car through the rest of the drive, fighting down nerves and second thoughts, until the car rolled to a stop at the front gate of the military installation she was traveling to. A young soldier held out a hand scanner as she lowered the driver's side window.

“If you would, Major,” he said in a respectful tone.

Ericksen placed her hand on the scanner, and a moment later, her identity was confirmed. As long as they aren’t actively scanning vehicles and see my sidearm, I’m home free. The private pulled the scanner back and quickly snapped off a salute, while simultaneously triggering the gate to open. She drove through the open lane, and the gate lowered down behind her, the next car’s occupant going through the same process.

The car stopped and parked itself in an open space; suddenly, it was time to act. Ericksen opened the door and stepped out of her vehicle. She walked with purpose into the building that housed the central communications systems and the uplink they would use to talk to the CDF ship in orbit. That’s the plan anyway.

A voice from behind her startled her, causing her to whirl around. “Nighttime is peaceful, isn’t it, Major?”

Ericksen sized up the man that stood in front of her; he appeared to be in civilian attire and wore a green shirt as her handler said he would. “Yes, it is,” she said quietly. “Are you ready?”

The man nodded. “Tanned, tested, and ready, Major. Staff Sergeant Ennis Fuller, at your service.”

Ericksen nodded herself and walked off toward the area of the building that housed the uplink. Fuller fell in beside her. “Don’t let the shirt fool you, Major. I’m special operations certified. Decided it might be suspicious to have two uniforms they aren’t expecting suddenly walk in. I’m your civilian contractor today.”

The smooth assurance in Fuller’s voice, if nothing else, calmed her. Tier one operators were like human machines; whatever else could be said about them, she knew he’d do whatever it took to get the job done, including the sacrifice of his own life if it was required.

It took a few minutes to traverse the distance between the entryway to the building and the communication room that housed the transmitter. Ericksen spent that time mute, her heart pounding in her chest as she tried to be as inconspicuous as possible. Confronted by a security door that separated the wing they were trying to access, she walked up to it casually and pressed her index finger into the scanner; a second later, the door’s lock clicked open, and they both walked through.

“Uh, Major, tailgating isn’t allowed. That gentleman will need to scan in as well,” a young technician said to them as they walked in.

Ericksen smiled. “I’m escorting a contractor, Private.”

As the technician began to speak, Fuller brought his hand down on the man’s neck in a martial arts move, delivering a stunning blow. He quickly put the young man in a chokehold and squeezed until he stopped moving; it was over in a matter of seconds.

“He’s out cold,” Fuller said as Ericksen walked behind a console and got to work.

After keying in the proper commands and inserting the data drive containing the precious information the resistance had been able to gather, she was ready to execute. “Here goes nothing,” she commented with something approaching a smile, then brought her hand down and pressed the enter key.

All hell broke loose; alarm klaxons wailed, and a red light outside of the security door blinked. “Whiskey tango foxtrot, Major? Did you do it wrong?” Fuller asked while drawing his sidearm and racking the action.

“They must have changed the security protocols,” Ericksen said, her voice high-pitched and full of fear.

Fuller turned around and walked over to her, grabbed her by the shoulders, and shook her. “Look, get it together, Major. You’ve got one job here: send that transmission. We clear on that?”

Ericksen nodded her head despite her hands shaking in terror. “Yes.” I was a supply officer, not a combatant.

“Now, you got picked because you had the right clearance, and you know how to use these things, right?”

Ericksen nodded hesitantly.

“Look, I’m a grunt. I’m going to stop the men coming here to prevent us from doing our task. You are going to finish this no matter what. Okay?” Fuller said to her in what she could tell was his attempt at being soothing.

“I’ll do my best,” Ericksen finally said, forcing herself to think about the problem and not the fear.

“Okay,” Fuller said, releasing his hold on her shoulders and turning back toward the door. “You stay put. I’m going to deal with the first wave, which ought to be a couple of rent-a-cop contractors that your dog could handle without breaking a sweat.”

Something about Fuller’s easy-going attitude, even in the face of what appeared to be certain death, disarmed Ericksen’s fear. I bet we’d be friends if we’d met before this. He seems like a decent guy. There was a trio of reports that sounded to her like a standard-issue sidearm. As she continued to input commands into the computer system, Fuller walked back into the room carrying a couple of rifles and a handful of magazines.

“Somebody got the rent-a-cops battle rifles. They should have invested in better armor,” he said with a cocky grin. “The next round, on the other hand, will be a bit more difficult. The base’s rapid reaction force should take a couple of minutes to get here, but they’ll know what they’re doing.”

Ericksen looked up from her attempts to access the communication network. “Is anyone else coming to help us?”

Fuller shook his head. “I was supposed to have three more operators with me, but our prime minister’s finest arrested them two days ago.”

“Do you think they knew we were planning this?” Ericksen asked hesitantly.

“I doubt it. Otherwise, there would have been an army here. No, they got lucky… but I’ll tell you this. It’ll take a lot more than Fitzroy’s goons to get my guys to talk. They’d die first. Now, how is it coming?”

“I’m getting there. There’s a new security protocol for using the transmitter. I’ve got to remember how to do real work,” Ericksen said with a forced grin.

“Keep pushing. I’ll deal with the hostiles,” Fuller said as he stepped back out into the corridor that lay beyond the security door, battle rifle up and at the ready.

As Ericksen worked, there were bursts of gunfire, jolting her from her task, but after the first couple of interruptions, she realized that from somewhere deep inside, nerves of steel had taken over. Breaking past the first lockout, she glanced up as Fuller thrust the door open. He quickly stepped through, then turned around long enough to fire a long burst that felled the soldier pursuing him.

“Well, that was fun,” he said, panting and quickly reloading his rifle. “Good news… they’re down four shooters. Bad news… they’ve got eight more out there. How close are you?”

“I’ll be ready to open a channel momentarily.”

“Okay, I’ll hold them off as long as I can. Are you armed?”

Ericksen nodded, reaching behind and drawing the sidearm she had in a holster in the small of her back. “Standard issue 10mm sidearm. I shoot marksman every year,” she said with pride.

“Yeah, you’ll get a chance to try that out against real people that shoot back. Not as easy as it looks.”

The door swinging open interrupted the back and forth; a soldier in full combat gear loomed in the entryway, but Fuller was quick. Before Ericksen could even send the command to her hand to raise the sidearm she held, he had shot the man three times in center mass. The soldier crumpled to the floor in a heap, but there were more beyond. He stepped to one side, braced the battle rifle to his shoulder, and leaned out, firing short bursts that killed several more of the advancing team.

Ericksen screamed as bullets slapped the wall behind her and one grazed her shoulder. Trying to drown out the battle, she focused on sending the last command to the system that would initiate a communications link with the Coalition Defense Force ship in orbit above.

* * *

David was in the middle of reviewing an engineering readiness report on the bridge of the Lion of Judah, when Taylor interrupted his thoughts. “Conn, communications. I’m receiving a transmission from the surface, sir. It appears to be from a member of the Monrovian National Guard. It’s garbled, but definitely directed at us.”

“Well, that’s a bit peculiar,” David said toward Aibek, who nodded his large Saurian head. “Lieutenant, put it through to my viewer.”

The flat-paneled monitor above David’s chair snapped on, the picture showing a blonde woman holding a sidearm in a classic shooter’s stance. “This is Major Jacqueline Ericksen calling the CDF ship in orbit, come in!”

“Major, this is Colonel David Cohen, CSV Lion of Judah. How can we be of assistance?”

Shouts, screams, and gunfire sounded in the background of the transmission as Ericksen looked down into the camera. “Colonel, I don’t have a lot of time. I’m transmitting you a message that contains evidence of what’s happening on Monrovia. The important part is you can’t believe what the government tells you.”

“I don’t follow, Major. What’s going on?”

“Some time ago, the government decided on a plan that was approved by a planet-wide referendum to join the League of Sol. As I’m sure you know, the League requires that all citizens pledge allegiance only to the government and to renounce any belief in a higher power. Those of us that wouldn’t comply have been systematically rounded up and imprisoned.”

As David began to form the words to reply, a burst of gunfire was heard through the commlink. A male voice shouted, “I can’t hold them back much longer!”

“There’s not much time left, Colonel. We need the Terran Coalition’s help. Our resistance movement formed too late and has been largely ineffective. They’ve rounded up everyone: Christian, Jew, Buddhist, Muslim… hell, they arrested agnostics for a while if they wouldn’t pledge loyalty. It’s all in the data file. They’re supposedly reeducating those that they rounded up, but any who refuse to give in will be executed. Please, Colonel, save us. The Terran Coalition is our last hope.”

“Major, if you’ll give me your position, I can get a shuttle of Marines down there in fifteen minutes,” David said, his face a mask of anger. Not on my watch.

“It’s no use, Colonel. We’re in the middle of one of the most heavily protected military installations on the planet. This was a one-way trip. We’ve just got to hold out for another…” Ericksen’s voice cut off as a series of shouts, and an explosion occurred off camera; gunshots rang out from close to the microphone, which David assumed was her sidearm yet again. A second later, he heard a woman’s scream, followed by a final gunshot. Moments later, the feed cut off.

“Did that just happen?” David asked, staring at Taylor. “Can we confirm the transmission was legitimate?”

“Well, sir, it came from a military installation on Monrovia. I can’t confirm the veracity of the information, of course.”

“It looked real to me, sir,” Aibek said with what looked like a concerned look for a Saurian on his face, at least in David’s brief knowledge of Saurian expressions.

“Did we get the information transmission she was talking about?” David asked.

“It was cut off mid-transmission, sir. I’ll try to put it back together.”

“You do that, Lieutenant. XO, assemble the senior staff, including Doctor Hayworth and Major Merriweather, in the conference room in thirty minutes. I want to discuss our options.”

“Sir, should we contact the government and ask them what’s going on?” Aibek asked.

“No, not until we’ve had a chance to review what Lieutenant Taylor puts together and discuss the situation among ourselves.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll get everyone together.”

“Thank you, XO,” David said, closing his eyes for a moment before standing. “XO has the conn,” David walked off the bridge, pulling his cover off as he passed the threshold to the passageway beyond. There’s no way in God’s green universe I’m going to allow a planet to round up and execute millions of believers; we pledged a long time ago that it would never happen again. Whatever it takes, we will stop this, so help me God.

7

Thirty minutes later, David sat at the head of the conference table, surrounded by the senior officers of the Lion of Judah. Aibek, Hanson, Doctor Tural, and Ruth all sat to his right, while Taylor, Amir, and Major Elizabeth Merriweather sat to the left. He glanced at his watch, then at Merriweather. “Major, does Doctor Hayworth not understand the meaning of being on time?”

Merriweather grimaced. “I apologize, sir. I’ll go get him.”

Her move to stand was abruptly cut off by the hatch swinging open and Hayworth walking into the room. “I apologize, a test I was observing ran long.”

“Have a seat, Doctor,” David said icily. After the doctor had complied, he continued. “Approximately thirty minutes ago, we received a transmission from the surface of Monrovia. A person who identified herself as a major in the Monrovian National Guard claimed that the government is rounding up people of faith, forcing them into re-education camps, and executing them if they refuse to renounce their beliefs. I don’t think I need to tell each and every one of you that I won’t let that go unanswered if it’s true.”

Shocked looks filled the faces of all those who hadn’t been on the bridge, opened mouths and gasps. “It’s the 25th century…” Hanson said. “Monrovia’s a neutral planet made up of people that escaped Earth and fled with our ancestors. How could they possibly do this?”

David shook his head. “We don’t know if they did or not, Major. But I aim to find out conclusively, one way or another. This could be a false flag operation designed to get us to lose our heads and hastily intervene. It could be a legitimate request for help. We need to determine which it is and quickly.”

“Along those lines, sir, I’ve been able to piece together the information we received from the data burst from the planet. Unfortunately, most of it was corrupted and lost during transmission,” Taylor said. “Including the location of these camps.”

Aibek snorted. “Somewhat convenient.”

“Lieutenant Goldberg, I’m aware of the limitations of our tactical sensor suite in pinpointing locations on a planetary body. Can you think of a way for us to quickly survey the planet?” David asked.

Before Ruth could answer, Hayworth spoke. “Tactical sensors aren’t capable of searching for what amounts to a concentration camp while in orbit, Colonel. What you need is imaging data from the entire planet and to run it through an algorithm to look for specific oddities in the data. It stands to reason that these camps would have unique features, such as rows of similar buildings, fencing, and guard towers.”

Ruth’s face flushed. “I’d have to agree with the doctor, sir. We lack the facilities for that on the Lion.”

“Actually, Lieutenant,” Hayworth said, again interrupting. “We do have the capability. At my repeated insistence, this ship has a full suite of scientific sensors and imaging equipment. We can use that to capture information on the entire planet and run it in real time through the Lion’s supercomputer. I’ll write an algorithm to search for anomalies, and we can assemble a team to review hits. I’ll be happy to lead this effort, in case you were looking for someone to do that,” he finished, flashing a confident smile in David’s direction.

Well, that was different., David was completely surprised by Hayworth’s tone and seemingly sincere desire to help. “Thank you, Doctor. I’d be glad to have your assistance. Is three hours enough time to scan the planet’s surface?”

“I’m honestly not sure, Colonel. It will depend on how long it takes me to create an effective algorithm. Could you settle for an update in three hours?”

“Yes, that’ll work. Anything else, people?” Met with silence, David stood. “Okay, let’s get back to work and sort this out. Dismissed.” As they all jumped up, David added, “Doctor Hayworth, please stay behind for a moment. I want a word.”

The rest of the team filed out, leaving David alone with Hayworth. Both men eyed each other, but Hayworth spoke first. “Keeping me behind to chide me for my attitude, Colonel?” he asked.

“No, Doctor. I’ve accepted that you’re an arrogant prick that delights in insulting others,” David said, his voice taut. “I just want to know why you’re so eager to help sort this out.”

“My ego doesn’t write checks that it can’t cash, Colonel,” Hayworth said smugly. “I want to know what’s going on because I abhor tactics that go against basic human dignity. As I’ve told you before, regardless of my lack of religious beliefs, I want the Terran Coalition to win, and more importantly, if I see a group of people being oppressed and I can do something to help… I will.”

David furrowed his brow. “That sentiment is something I didn’t expect to hear from you.”

“Why? Because to be good, you need to be religious?”

David shrugged. “I won’t lie; I tend to believe that if you believe in God or a higher power of some sort, you’re more inclined to be a decent person if for no other reason than the fear of what might happen to you in the next life.”

“In other words, you’re scared of being punished, so you do good things?”

“I’m not, personally. Though I consider it to be a maxim that the fear of God is the beginning of wisdom.”

“Proverbs. You like quoting that book, don’t you?”

David smiled. “I suppose I do, Doctor.”

Hayworth’s expression softened. “Colonel, I realize you don’t like me very much. Eliza tells me regularly that I bring most of the dislike directed at me on myself, and I won’t deny that. To use your colorful words, I’m an arrogant prick. But this arrogant prick has invented a technology that very well may win the war, and I hate the League of Sol. Isn’t that enough?”

David paused, realizing that Hayworth was offering as much of an olive branch as he was likely ever to see. “We’re both direct men, Doctor. I appreciate that about you. Honestly, I was happy you’re willing to step forward and help with this problem. But may I offer you the advice that you’d catch more flies with honey than with vinegar?”

“I’m not interested in making friends, nor in what others think of me, Colonel. I have one goal: the advancement of science. Along the way, I wouldn’t mind convincing someone that science governs all we see around us, and the beauty of being the one in a trillion random chance.”

“Again, Doctor, I may not agree with you, but I respect your right to believe whatever it is you will. All I ask is that you further the goals of the Terran Coalition while you’re on my ship, and keep the condescension to a minimum,” David said with a trace of a thin smile.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Hayworth looked toward the door. “If you don’t mind, Colonel, I’ve got an algorithm to write and a concentration camp to find.”

David nodded. “Carry on, Doctor Hayworth.”

* * *

Martin Attwood stood outside of the prime minister’s office in the centralized government capital complex on Monrovia. As the deputy prime minister, he had served in this government for several years, through good times and bad. Now it seemed if the rumors he had heard on his way over to an emergency meeting were correct, things were about to go from bad to worse.

“The prime minister will see you now, Mr. Attwood,” the ever-debonair assistant to Prime Minister Fitzroy said.

“Thank you, Sefton.”

Attwood strode through the ornate doors to the office that lay beyond. Colleen Fitzroy sat behind the lone desk in the room, staring at an electronic tablet. “Come in, Marty.”

I so detest that nickname; I think that’s why she uses it. “How bad is it?” Attwood asked without preamble.

“Pretty bad,” Fitzroy said as she stood up from the desk and walked around to a chair next to the couch. “A couple of traitors in the military used their access to send a message to the Lion of Judah. Intelligence isn’t sure how much information made it up there, but it’s bad. Worst case, the Terran Coalition knows of our re-education program.”

“Colleen… I’ve been giving this a lot of thought.”

“And you think we should stop the program and let everyone go?”

“Yes! I agree, it made sense six months ago to join the League. But now the League’s being pushed back. We both know we’d get a better deal living under the Terran Coalition.”

Fitzroy looked out the window wistfully. “Maybe. But we’re too far in now. If they ever find out what we’ve done, they’ll invade our planet and convert us all.”

“If we stop now, it won’t be too bad.”

“Right, because we haven’t executed everyone yet? Marty, you’ve got a kind soul. I like that about you, and you won me a couple of seats I needed. But you’ve got cotton balls between your ears if you think we can walk away and say, ‘Oops, sorry; everyone’s free to go.’ You don’t think that, do you?”

How did this all begin? The first step seemed so innocuous… then the restrictions started, and it got worse and worse until each step blended together. “Then we resign. Allow a new government to come in and clean up the mess.”

“You can’t be serious,” she said, her jaw dropping open.

“Do you have a better idea?”

“As a matter of fact, I do. The Terran Coalition is hesitant to involve itself in the actions of neutral planets. So we stay neutral and continue to deal with our religious citizenry problem. As long as they didn’t get the location of the camps, we’ll be fine. And even if they did, I doubt their government would authorize anything that hurts us. Sanctions maybe? But who cares about that… we already get most of our trade in with the League. In time, the League will shift more forces over to this side of the arm and beat the CDF and RSN back. Then we’ll join them for good.”

“I don’t think that’s the right thing to do,” Attwood said forcefully.

“And what is? We resign, apologize, and beg for forgiveness? I don’t think so. You’re welcome to do that if you’d like, but if I were you, I’d consider what we do to traitors.”

She owns me, lock, stock, and barrel. And I don’t have what it takes to stand up to her or any of them. I’ve gotten this far by just going along with the majority, even though I know it’s wrong, I’ll do now to save my skin. “No, that won’t be necessary.”

“Good. Then get over to the intelligence bureau and make sure they’re pulling out all the stops. We must find the rest of these traitors in our midst. This has gone on long enough. I want every member of the military put through a lie detector test if that’s what it takes.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Attwood stood. “I’ll update you later once I’ve met with the director in internal intelligence and security.”

“Thank you, Marty. Just remember, someday we’ll go down in history as the leaders that saved our planet. I’m looking forward to being remembered like that.”

* * *

This science lab is large, cluttered, and full of equipment, David thought, looking around Doctor Hayworth’s lab as he walked through the hatch into the space labeled “Science Lab A” on the door. Large towers of computer servers all interconnected to one another via cabling, and what looked like some sort of laser beam emitter was strapped onto a table. Hayworth, Taylor, and Merriweather sat at computer terminals in the back of the lab and didn’t notice David until he was halfway across the room.

“Right on time, Colonel,” Hayworth said. “You could almost set a watch by your punctuality.”

Taylor and Merriweather both sprang up from their chairs and came to attention. David waved them off. “As you were.”

Both relaxed and returned to their seats, while David pulled up a chair and sat in between them all. He looked over at Hayworth and smirked. “That’s one thing the military does to you, Doctor. You learn to be on time.”

“Tell that to Eliza,” Hayworth said, drawing a look of ire from Merriweather.

“That’s Major Merriweather to you if you’re going to talk like that, Doctor.”

“So, what have we found out?” David interjected. I don’t have time for banter today.

“Well, sir, we’re in the process of finalizing our search, but I believe we can say with certainty several large installations are newly constructed.”

“Show me,” David commanded.

Taylor typed a few commands into his terminal, and a large holoprojection of the surface filled the room. The picture zoomed in to a grouping of long, rectangular buildings that appeared to have a wall around them, with ominous guard towers every one hundred meters. Taylor tapped another button and the perspective changed to a bird’s eye view.

“As you can see, there are large row houses here that we estimate can house three hundred people in each one. This particular camp has thirty of the row houses, with what appear to be medical facilities, an exercise yard, and other buildings. We assume that they’re for feeding the inmates.”

“It could just be a normal prison.”

“I don’t think so, Colonel,” Hayworth said, gesturing to one of the buildings. “We sent down a stealth drone to observe and take readings. These buildings are less than six months old, and multiple camps fit this same general profile. I don’t believe it’s plausible to say they’ve had an increase in felons by that kind of percentage.”

“It’s strong circumstantial evidence, Doctor. But it’s not overwhelming.”

“Our last survey just finished,” Merriweather interjected into the conversation. “Have a look.” She tapped a series of buttons on her terminal, and the holoprojection changed to show a three-dimensional view of the ground with a specific section off to the side of the camp, in a cross section that showed what was beneath.

David stared at it for a moment before he blurted out, “Are those bodies?”

Merriweather furrowed her eyebrows together. “Yes, sir. I believe we’re looking at a mass grave with at least eight hundred people in it.”

“Can you tell how they died?” David asked.

“No, sir. We’d need to exhume the grave to determine that.”

“Well, they sure as heck didn’t get there by accident,” Taylor said.

“Agreed, Lieutenant. There’s a part of me that can’t believe, in this day and age, an entire planet would decide to do this and apparently vote for it. But part of me isn’t surprised. People have traded rights for perceived throughout the generations. No different now.”

“What are we going to do about it, sir?” Taylor asked.

“Package all this up and put it into a written briefing for me, Lieutenant. I’m going to have a word with the government on Monrovia. We’ll see if they have an explanation. Then I’m going to present our findings back to HQ and General MacIntosh. I will argue for full-scale military intervention.”

“We’ve also been examining the Monrovian National Guard,” Merriweather piped up. “They’re far behind us, technologically speaking. They have stratofighters and armor corps, but they’re so far out of date compared to our equipment, I would believe our MEU is more than a match.”

David nodded. “That’s good info, Major. Make sure to put that in the written report; being able to tell the brass we can execute military action with few casualties will help the argument.” He turned toward Hayworth. “Doctor, thank you for taking point on this. The people in these camps are in your debt."

Hayworth stared straight back at David. “No debt, Colonel. I’m just… doing my job, as you military types would say.”

David cracked a smile. “Alright, Doctor, then I’ll just say we’re rubbing off on you.”

Hayworth snorted but didn’t reply further. David scanned the room as he stood. “Thank you all. I’ll look for that report in the next two hours. Carry on.”

“Yes, sir!” Merriweather crisply replied.

“Aye, sir!” Taylor said, right after her.

David nodded and turned toward the door, walking quickly to his next destination, his day cabin on deck one. Let’s see what Prime Minister Fitzroy has to say for herself and her government. I don’t see any way there’s a rational explanation for this, but I’ll give her the courtesy of asking nicely… before I rain hell itself down on her planet.

8

“He wants what?” Fitzroy said in an exasperated tone, perched behind her desk in the prime minister’s office.

“He’s demanding to speak to you about the treatment of religious persons on Monrovia, Madame Prime Minister,” her aide, Sefton said.

Fitzroy said, her face red with anger, “Well, I guess they got enough to believe those damn traitors. Okay, put him through in five minutes. We’ll make the man wait so he can remember who he’s talking to.”

During the five-minute period she had specified, she took the time to go over what she would say if confronted about the rebels. It’s none of their business how we run our planet; it’s our planet, after all. The sanctimonious Terran Coalition has some gall, trying to tell us and the rest of the neutral worlds how to handle our affairs. The League is a better reflection of what our people believe. I hope we can play nice long enough to get this troublesome colonel on his way.

David’s image appearing on the monitor in front of her snapped Fitzroy out of her thoughts. “Colonel Cohen, what can I do for you?” she asked with a forced smile.

“You can start by telling me why you’re detaining large amounts of your population in prison camps with mass graves in them, Madame Prime Minister,” David said without preamble, his brow furrowed and face red.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Colonel Cohen. Flinging accusations about like that is not the way for the Terran Coalition to demonstrate its friendship with Monrovia. I suggest you change your attitude, or you will no longer be welcome in orbit of our planet.”

“I’ve got proof, Prime Minister. We have imaging of the prisons, eyewitness accounts, and ground-penetrating imagery of the mass graves.”

Damn, they must have gotten more of the message than I thought. “The word of traitors that want to stoke conflict between our countries, against its elected government… surely, Colonel, you can’t think that…” Fitzroy began before David cut her off.

“Madam Prime Minister, stow it. The science department on board the Lion of Judah took those images. We know, and very soon, the citizens of your planet, as well as the entire Terran Coalition will know, and the rest of the galaxy… exactly what you’ve done.”

Rage built inside of Fitzroy as she watched David. This smug, useless piece of crap telling me what he’ll do to my planet? Who the hell does he think he is? “And they’ll do what exactly, Colonel?”

“I would hope to remove you from office and put you on trial for crimes against humanity, for starters.”

Fitzroy, in spite of herself, laughed into the vidlink. “We voted on the course of action taken, Colonel Cohen. The vote was nearly seventy-five percent to twenty-five. That’s what I would call a super-majority. We asked the Terran Coalition to take in those on Monrovia that don’t share the same views as the vast masses of citizens regarding religion. I don’t see you offering up that solution.”

Fitzroy could almost feel David’s eyes boring into her as he spoke again. “Prime Minister, I’m aware that our government was approached about taking in refugees of various religions from Monrovia. At no time were we told the reason you wanted to be rid of them was to perform what amounts to ethnic cleansing of all people of faith on your planet!”

“I don’t care what you think about us, Colonel. Do you have anything else, or do you want to rant and rave some more?” Fitzroy said, forcing a fake smile back onto her face.

“No, Prime Minister… I don’t have anything else for now. But I’ll be back. I promise you that, and when I do, you’ll regret the day you were born,” David said. As soon as he finished, the screen abruptly went blank.

The doors to her office swung inward, and Attwood walked in. “Colleen, what do you think you’re doing?” he practically shouted.

“Oh, shut up, Marty.”

“Don’t tell me to shut up. I just found out the Coalition Defense Force knows about our camps; they also seem to know about the mass graves!”

“Word travels fast, I see.”

“Are you not fazed by this at all?”

“No. They’re a paper tiger. Colonel Cohen just finished yelling at me. He’ll go back and complain to his superiors, and that they’ll tell him to be a good little boy and go on the next mission. Stop freaking out.”

“This isn’t going to end well, Prime Minister. It’s not going to end well at all,” Attwood said.

“Well, for all our sakes, I hope and believe that you’re wrong. We’d better move up the timetable for re-education. I want a directive sent out to the paramilitary forces to hurry up. Anyone who won’t comply should begin to receive enhanced education.”

“You mean we should torture them?” Attwood said, calling out the euphuism embedded in the term “enhanced education.”

“I don’t care what we call it, Marty. We have to get it done. I don’t like that we had to do this to our citizens, but we’ve been trying the carrot for years. Now they feel the stick. Clear?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Attwood grated out.

“Good. Get on it… I need to get with the League’s ambassador. There’s going to be complications from this activity.”

Attwood nodded. “I’ll update you later.” He turned around and walked out of the room. Fitzroy stared at the door, considering the events of the past few minutes. Everything will end up okay, she thought. At the end of the day, people take care of themselves, even the Terran Coalition. That will win out over everything else.

* * *

Simultaneously on the bridge of the Lion of Judah, David abruptly stood up from the CO’s chair, his face bright red as he wore a decidedly angry expression. “XO, you have the conn.”

“Yes, sir, I have the conn,” Aibek said.

“I’ll be in my day cabin. Lieutenant Taylor, get me General MacIntosh on a gold priority channel, and patch him through.”

Taylor peered over his console at David. “Sir, it’s two A.M. on Canaan currently.”

“I’m well aware of the time on Canaan, Lieutenant. Wake him up,” David snapped.

“Yes, sir, right away.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant.” David quickly turned on his heel and strode out off the bridge, removing his cover as he crossed the threshold to the passageway directly behind the bulkhead. It only took him fifteen steps to get to his day cabin, the computer automatically turning on the lights.

David sat down behind his desk and leaned back in the chair. Emotion cannot be allowed to interfere with decision-making. But he couldn’t help the fact that the entire situation made him furious. After all this time, after all the progress they’d made as a species, the idea that a group of humans—who had a democratically elected government—would choose to imprison and kill people because they didn’t like what they believed? It’s things like this, he reflected, that make me wonder if the human race has evolved at all.

“Colonel, I’ve got General MacIntosh on the vidlink for you, sir,” Taylor’s voice said from the ship’s intercom system.

“Very well, Lieutenant. Put him through to my tablet.”

“Yes, sir, wait one.”

David picked up the tablet off his desk and scanned his fingerprint. The screen turned on, and the vidlink engaged, with the decidedly unhappy face of General MacIntosh filling the device.

“Colonel, please tell me you have an excellent reason for waking me up at this hour.”

“I apologize for the late call, General. We’ve hit a serious roadblock with the Monrovians.”

“I wasn’t expecting you to get them back on our side in one trip, Colonel.”

“No, sir, but it’s far worse than we thought. We’ve learned from a group of political dissidents on the planet that the government is engaging in the systematic imprisonment, re-education, and extermination of all people of faith.”

MacIntosh sat back in his chair and squeezed his eyes open and closed several times. “I may be half asleep, but I think you just told me that a neutral planet is perpetrating a modern-day holocaust. If that’s what you said, do we have proof?”

“Yes, sir, we do. Doctor Hayworth was able to configure our scientific sensors to map the planet. We located and mapped several large camps and have ground-penetrating images of mass graves containing thousands of bodies,” David answered.

MacIntosh’s jaw fell open. “You got Hayworth to do that of his own accord?”

“Yes, sir. He wanted to run the team.”

“Miracles never cease to happen,” MacIntosh said with a wry smirk on his face. “Okay, we’ll pass this on to the department of state. Get our diplomatic team engaged and see if we can’t move the needle.”

David pursed his lips together, fighting down anger. “With respect, sir, I already spoke to the prime minister.”

“You what, Colonel?” MacIntosh barked.

“I spoke with the prime minister, sir. She acknowledged the camps, indicated that a supermajority of citizens voted to join the League, and she has no intention of stopping the practice.”

“You exceeded your authority, Colonel. Good Lord, are you trying to start another war?”

“Sir...” David stammered, realizing he was talking to his superior officer and a four-star general. Oh, what the heck; go for it, David. “With respect, sir, we can’t just stand by and let them murder God knows how many innocent people. We have a duty to intervene.”

“Well, where does that end, Colonel? If we don’t like that a neutral planet has permissive laws regarding drug use, should we invade them too? Maybe we should invade Monrovia, convert them to Christianity, and plant our flag on the capital building.”

“Sir, that’s crazy. I’m suggesting we act to stop genocide. I don’t care what the rest of their population does or doesn’t do.”

“I believe you, Colonel. But right now, we’re in a precarious situation. Our military power is only strong thanks to our alliance with the Saurians. If the neutral planets turn against us, especially a group of them at the same time, we’ll have enemies in our backyard. It’s the policy of the Terran Coalition that we do not interfere in the government of other planets. That’s been our policy for several generations. We’re not the galaxy’s policemen.”

“If you were walking down the street and saw muggers attacking an old woman, would you step in to stop it?” David asked harshly.

“This isn’t about you and me; it’s about the policy of our government. We don’t get to set that policy, Colonel. We execute it. And if you’ve never had to carry out an order you didn’t agree with, then you probably lack an internal moral code.”

“I can’t believe that with your personal connection to President Spencer, you can’t get him to see what’s going on here. He’s a good man; he’d want to help.”

“You’re probably right, but he has the well-being of two hundred billion people to worry about.”

“So who cares about a few million that aren’t even our citizens?” David said, his voice dripping acid.

“That’s out of line, Colonel. Remember who you’re talking to.”

“Permission to speak freely then, sir.”

“Granted.”

“You’re not the man I thought you were if you can stand aside while people are slaughtered for no other reason than what they believe. We’re in a war to defend our right to believe. We cannot pass by and ignore this. We blather on and on about how we’re on God’s side, and we do what’s right, how we’re better than the League because here freedom matters. Monrovia is so out of date technology-wise, our MEU could take the planet in a week! There’s no reason not to help except we don’t care.”

MacIntosh bit his lip. “I’m going to choose to ignore that statement, Colonel, as I understand you’re having an emotional response. Look, I want to help these people. I agree with you, but I can’t commit the Coalition Defense Force to war without executive and legislative branch approval. You’re talking about a declaration of war… that’s not something we do lightly.”

“No, it’s not, and war isn’t something we should ever do lightly. But when people are dying by the thousands, we cannot stand aside. If Monrovia had some mineral we needed, like lithium for our starships, you can bet your bottom credit the politicians would jump all over it. Getting involved is the right call, and if we’re not the galaxy’s policeman, who is then, sir? Because it needs one.”

MacIntosh was silent for a moment and sat back in his chair. “You’ve got a point, Colonel.”

“Then do something, sir. Don’t we have any favors that can be called in with the private military corporations?”

“You know how much I hate those contractors playing war.”

“Didn’t say I liked them, sir. But even one of those outfits could wipe the floor of the Monrovian National Guard.”

“Have you been asked to leave orbit yet?” MacIntosh asked.

“In as many words.”

“Develop some problem with your Lawrence drive. I need a few hours, but I have an idea.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Don’t thank me yet. What I’m thinking is extremely high risk, and I’ll still need presidential approval.”

“We’ll be standing by, sir.”

“MacIntosh out.”

The screen blinked out, leaving David alone in his cabin. Oh boy, I just went off on my commanding officer. MacIntosh did have a point. The Terran Coalition couldn’t afford the bad optics of big footing the neutral planets, but they couldn’t let this stand either. They vowed as a people when they’d escaped Earth that mass killings and genocide would never happen again. It couldn’t start now, not in their space, and not on their watch.

David stood and forced his emotions down. He had a job to do; regardless of what happened here. The best thing for me is to go about my duties and allow the general to keep his word. MacIntosh is a good man, and I know he’ll do the right thing in the end. Walking out of his cabin and back toward the bridge, he found himself very conflicted as to what to do next.

* * *

Andrew MacIntosh walked through the hallway of the Canaan Government Complex in his “A” uniform, as his destination was a conference room that contained, among others, the President of the Terran Coalition, Justin Spencer. The secretary of defense fell in beside him, matching his long strides.

“Mr. Secretary,” MacIntosh said in greeting.

“Andrew, I read over your pre-brief.”

“And you think I’m insane?”

“No. I’d personally like to bomb those smug assholes back into the stone age from orbit. That said, we have to adjust for the geopolitical realities of the situation. Declaring war, staging a police action, or any other overt military acts against Monrovia is out of the question.”

“I agree,” MacIntosh said.

“Then what?”

“I’ve got a plan. Let me present it; then you can tell me if I’m relieved of command.”

Dunleavy laughed. “You’d have to go nuts for that to happen, old friend. This pet project of yours has damn near won the war.”

“We’ve got a long way to go before we win the war. But it’s given us a chance, just like I said it would.”

“Yes, I regret not believing in it now. If we had finished the Lion of Judah sooner, who knows?”

MacIntosh shook his head. “Everything seems to happen for a reason. The Lion arrived at the exact right moment, engaged the League at the right moment, and that sequence of events is what, one in a trillion?”

“Still, I wish we’d had access to that technology sooner.”

As the two men paused outside the conference room the meeting was being held in, MacIntosh gestured to the open door. “You first, sir.”

Dunleavy nodded and inclined his head, then walked through the open door. MacIntosh followed, to find only President Spencer and two of his ever-present bodyguards; they were with him all hours of the day and night.

“Gentlemen, have a seat,” Spencer said, all business.

MacIntosh closed the door to the conference room behind him while Dunleavy took a seat in one of the richly appointed chairs directly across from the president. MacIntosh joined him a few moments later, sitting to his left.

“I’ve read over your report, Andrew. I’m at a loss to explain how we weren’t aware of this information before sending the Lion of Judah on a port call.”

“Mr. President, it would appear that we had an intelligence failure. Our assets on Monrovia have always been a bit thin, and most of them were rolled up the last few years. With other threats out there, we didn’t invest in getting new assets. The Monrovian government controls its media and punishes dissent harshly. We went back and reviewed the referendums, and there are several that were voted on, but none are directly calling for the execution of believers. Our intelligence analysts believe that most people don’t know what’s going on,” Dunleavy said.

“Gentlemen, we’ve got a catch twenty-two situation here. I want nothing more than to go in guns blazing. But, if we do that, we hand a major propaganda victory to the League, who will use it to bash our heads in on the galactic stage as warmongers and hypocrites who say one thing and do another. At the same time, if we allow this to occur, we’re complicit in the genocide of millions of people. I won’t have that on my conscience.”

MacIntosh cleared his throat. “Sir, I believe I have a solution to thread the needle.”

“You want to call in a third party to deal with it?” Dunleavy asked.

“Yes. I have a group in mind that has the numbers, training, and capability.”

“Care to share?” Spencer said dryly.

“Except to say that they’re trustworthy and registered with the Coalition Defense Force as a preferred vendor, I don’t think I should, sir. You need plausible deniability if it blows up in our face. The only thing I require is your approval and authorization to transfer a modest amount of funds and military hardware.”

“A PMC?” Spencer asked sharply, referencing a private military corporation.

“After a fashion. A charitably funded outfit.” MacIntosh offered his own wry grin.

“Ah, yes, I should have known,” Dunleavy said. “I’ve no objections to this course of action, Mr. President.”

“What are their chances of success, Andrew?” Spencer asked, direct and to the point.

“As certain as we can be in this business, Mr. President. If anyone can do it, they can.”

Spencer nodded thoughtfully. “Okay, gentlemen. I’ll sign off on it. Andrew, don’t screw this up.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Carry on,” Spencer replied, standing from his chair.

9

Sara Sarno, Mother Superior of the Little Sisters of Divine Recompense, was in the middle of her daily prayers. Sitting in the pew of the small chapel on their remote abbey, she first prayed the rosary, as she did practically every morning. A sixty-nine-year-old woman that was born on New Brazil, her family traced its roots back to the old Earth country of Italy. Brushing a wisp of graying hair out of the way, she looked up to see a young novice standing off to the side.

“What is it, my child?”

“Mother Superior, please accept my sincere apology for interrupting your prayers. There is a vidlink message for you,” the young novice said hesitantly.

“From who?”

“General Andrew MacIntosh.”

Sarno smiled and stood. “Thank you for telling me. Is he still on the line?”

“Yes, Mother Superior. He said it was most important and to tell you the CDF is paying the cost of the call.”

“Return to your duties, then. I’ll make my way to the terminal.”

As the young woman nodded and scurried off, Sarno made her way to the lone communication link in the abbey and found it still on, with MacIntosh’s face half obscured.

“Andrew,” Sarno began, sitting down on the chair in front of the small camera. “It’s been far too long. How are you today?”

MacIntosh looked down and into the camera with a smile. “Greetings, Sara.”

“You used my first name and smiled. I don’t know what you want, but it’s going to be big.”

“Guilty as charged. But before we get there, how you have been?”

“The Sisters and I have soldiered on the last couple of years. We’re solving small problems and helping to spread God’s peace where we can. Thanks to your last contribution, we’ve been able to grow our ranks. Nothing ever gets thrown out here, you know. We’ve got equipment that was old at the beginning of the war, still perfectly functional.”

“What about you, though?”

“Is that concern in your voice?”

MacIntosh smiled. “Yes.”

“I took solemn vows, Andrew. It would be a sin to tempt me.”

“I know…that’s why I leave you alone as much as I can.”

“Except when you can’t. Tell me, what’s happened?”

MacIntosh sat back, the camera showing that he was in his own office. “Colonel Cohen and the Lion of Judah have discovered that a neutral planet is committing genocide against its religious citizens.”

“That sounds like a job for the Terran Coalition Marine Corps,” Sarno said bluntly.

“It’s politically impossible for us to intervene overtly. We must have plausible deniability. I’ve been authorized to make that happen.”

Sarno’s mouth opened, but no sound came out.

MacIntosh pressed on. “My file says your order is up to fifteen thousand strong. We believe that Monrovia—that’s the planet—would be incapable of resisting a modern force of five thousand. If you can commit half your strength, we’ll commit intelligence assets and targeting information.” “We’re also spread across eight different planets, providing peacekeepers and police services. I can’t just up and pull out.”

“If you can’t do it, I have to try to contract with a PMC. I don’t believe they’d have the same effectiveness, and I know they lack respect for human life.”

Sarno smiled. “Guilting me, Andrew?”

MacIntosh grinned. “Whatever it takes to accomplish the mission.”

“Is the Terran Coalition prepared to make a charitable… donation for this effort?”

“I can offer you seventy-five hundred battle rifles, ammunition, medical supplies, armored personnel carriers, five main battle tanks, Grant IIIs, not the IVs. Two hundred suits of combat armor, and a squadron of space superiority fighters in addition to three million credits.”

Sarno’s eyebrows shot up. That’s a lot of firepower, and we need the money. “You know we prefer non-lethal solutions, of course.”

“There is room for discussion.”

“It’s a good starting point… but I’d want at least fifty APCs, twenty tanks, a thousand suits of combat armor, and I’d like your latest versions of area denial weapons, especially the thermal-based models.”

“Done.”

That was too easy. Let’s see how far of a leash he’s got on this. “One more request, Andrew. Our assault ships are old and very costly to maintain. I want four of your last generation assault landers. I know the CDF just did a large upgrade program and you have a bunch of them sitting in mothballs. I’d also like one of the Gladius-class destroyers from the emergency reserve fleet.”

“That…could take some doing.”

“So is what you want me to do.”

“I thought your order’s mission was taking just causes and making them right in the eyes of God?” MacIntosh asked.

“It is, but those missions have a cost. Unlike most of the people we help, who are penniless and oppressed… the Terran Coalition has nearly unlimited amounts of funds. It can afford to help us aid the needy.”

“I can transfer everything but the ships now. The ships will be dependent on successful completion of the mission.”

“We haven’t exactly discussed what that mission is. Are you looking for us to effect regime change?”

MacIntosh shook his head. “No, we want you to set up safe zones, work with the local resistance movement to do so, and then we’ll send in transports to evacuate anyone willing to leave. The Terran Coalition cannot be involved in overthrowing the government of a neutral planet that was duly elected.”

“I’ll need to see your intelligence, of course.”

“Of course.”

“Once I review it and perform supplication, we will have an agreement, Andrew. Will I get to see you again in person?”

“Not on this one. You’ll interface with Colonel Cohen. He will brief you and transfer the supplies before getting underway for the Lion’s next mission.”

“Take care of yourself, Andrew. Are you taking care of your soul?”

“I try. Confession remains hard… the things we must do to win. There’s a stain on my soul that never quite disappears.”

“Trust in God,” Sarno replied. “He will see us through. He is the only thing worth our adoration and faith.”

“Take care of yourself out there. You’ll like the young colonel. He reminds me of you in younger days.”

Sarno smiled. “Then this ought to be an interesting mission. Godspeed, Andrew.”

A moment later, MacIntosh’s face blinked out and the terminal went blank, showing the video link program waiting for a signal or input. Sarno sat back in the simple chair, deep in thought. This will be a difficult undertaking, one that I will need to pray over before fully committing us. We could help so many more, though; God must see that in his plan for our order. The voice of her assistant, a young novice who had only been with them for three months, jolted her out of her reverie. “Mother Superior, I was sent to remind you that the ceremony for Sister Mary is to begin shortly.”

Sarno looked up and nodded. “I will join you all momentarily. I must pray first.”

“Yes, Mother Superior.”

* * *

A few hours later onboard the Lion of Judah, David was back in his day cabin, awaiting connection of another call from MacIntosh. I hope the general has some good news… I think he bought into my argument. We live in hope. He grinned at the thought of one of his favorite sayings.

MacIntosh’s face came into view as the vidlink synched.

“Good to see you, sir.”

“You as well, Colonel. How’s your ship’s budget for communication credits after the last couple of days?”

David laughed. “I’m glad it’s not coming out of my pay.”

“I’ve got some good news for you. We have a private military organization coming to help.”

“Who, sir?” David asked, his brow furrowed.

“A Catholic military order; the Little Sisters of Divine Recompense.”

David stared at MacIntosh quizzically. “Nuns, sir? With respect, we need an army, not a prayer team.”

MacIntosh laughed hard, shaking his head. “Colonel, I would pay my entire salary for the next year to see you say that to Mother Superior Sarno. I consider her order to be one of the finest private military organizations in the Terran Coalition. I’d strongly advise you to treat her and her fellow Sisters with respect.”

David felt his face turn red. That’s what happens when you assume. “I apologize, sir. I just think of nuns as sitting in a convent and praying or feeding the sick and hungry. They do great work, but clearly, more than that is needed here.”

“Well, they’re not exactly common knowledge, Colonel, so I’ll let it slide. They prefer non-lethal solutions, but we’re going to be augmenting their capabilities for this mission. I’ll send you a list of military hardware to transfer to them from the Lion’s stores. You will also provide them with intelligence data, target estimates, and a briefing on the situation.”

“Yes, sir. Will we be providing overwatch and fire support, sir? We’ve been working on a list of military targets.”

“Absolutely not, Colonel,” MacIntosh snapped. “You’re to have no direct involvement with this operation. You, nor any member of your crew. Are we clear?”

“Crystal, sir. Permission to speak freely, sir?”

“Granted, Colonel.”

“Sir, if we’re supplying them with arms from our stores and providing them targeting information, how are we not involved?”

MacIntosh shrugged. “There’s a big difference between supplying some gear that was paid for via foreign military sales and a sensor sweep… and attacking a neutral planet directly.”

“With respect, that’s BS, sir. We’re hiding behind plausible deniability and directly lowering the odds of success.”

“That’s your opinion, Colonel. Your orders stand.”

“Aye aye, sir,” David grated out.

“Colonel, I understand your idealism,” MacIntosh said after a few seconds of silence. “I respect it, and it’s one of the reasons I put you in command of the Lion. But… idealism doesn’t solve every problem, and there are instances where it can be fatal.”

“I don’t consider wanting to save the lives of millions of innocent people to be idealism, General. I consider it to be my duty.”

“Maybe in a perfect universe, you’d be right. But our leaders, even the best of them, are constrained by the limits of the political situation. President Spencer is doing everything he can, and so am I. I need you on board, Colonel.”

“I understand my orders, sir, and I will carry them out to the best of my ability,” David said, forcing his face into a neutral expression.

“Sometimes that’s all we’ve got. Orders are orders, and we don’t get to decide which ones we’ll obey and which we won’t, as long as they’re lawful.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Update me once you transfer the supplies, and the sisters are ready to engage.”

“Understood, sir.”

“Godspeed, Colonel. MacIntosh out.”

David stood up after the transmission cut out, tossing his tablet onto the desk angrily. He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. Ultimately, MacIntosh was right; they had to follow orders. It didn’t change that sometimes they were wrong. He believed with every fiber of his being that they should storm that planet and to hell with the political consequences. Anyone who remotely had a moral code would see they were right. He guessed that was why he implemented orders and other people gave them. Okay, David, focus. Get things ready to go. He picked up his tablet and sent a message off to the senior crew to attend a meeting at 1400 hours.

* * *

Sarno’s inner sanctum sat deep within the convent. It was a small suite; the apartment she used to have on Canaan before joining the order was larger. There was just something peaceful and tranquil about it, though. I do love it here. When she needed to consider difficult issues or to consult with her most trusted lieutenants, what amounted to her living room was where she did it. A statue of the Virgin Mary adorned her fireplace mantel, along with various religious artifacts. In keeping with the rules of the order, there were very few personal touches; only a few picture frames that displayed rolling slideshows of friends and family throughout the years.

There was a polite knock at the door. “Come in, children!”

The door creaked open, and two nuns in full robes and habits walked in, bowing slightly in front of Sarno.

The older nun was Emma Kaufman; she was a veteran member of the Terran Coalition Marine Corps; the younger was their resident fighter squadron commander, Oni Arendse. Arendse had served for several years in the CDF, achieving the rank of captain before she mustered out and joined the order. “Sisters, thank you for joining me this evening,” Sarno began. “Have you considered the proposal the CDF has given us regarding the situation on Monrovia?”

Both nuns nodded, but Kaufman spoke for them. “Yes, Mother Superior. I’ve given it much thought and prayer.”

“What’s your position on the matter, then?”

“It’s difficult not to look at the practical considerations in addition to the moral aspects,” Kaufman said. “The equipment that’s on offer… we need it to keep up our operations tempo. There’s no shortage of people in this galaxy that need our help, especially along the frontier where the CDF lacks resources to keep the peace. Put that aside, how could we possibly turn away when hundreds of thousands of people are being murdered, and sleep at night knowing we could have made a difference?”

“We’ve studied the available intel on the Monrovian military. As far as conflict goes, we’re very well prepared to fight them, Mother Superior,” Arendse said. “We’d have complete air superiority with the offer of latest generation CDF space superiority fighters. I concur with Sister Kaufman, however… we cannot turn away. I feel that conviction in my soul.”

Sarno steepled her hands together. “I have prayed for guidance for hours as well. I have to balance the needs of the order with our mission to protect the weak and the innocent. That is at times a difficult balance, one that leads to not taking on a cause that is demonstrably just but would also lead to the destruction of the order. I agree with both of your assessments. I believe we have a path to victory should God choose to grant it to us. Therefore, we will take on this cause. Summon as many sisters as we can from all ongoing operations. We’ll need a force of seven to eight thousand to have a reasonable chance for victory.”

Kaufman bowed her head. “Yes, Mother Superior.”

Arendse also bowed in respect. “I will prepare the pilots, Mother Superior.”

“Godspeed, Sisters.”

10

“I find it hard to believe that your government is sending a religious order of… what did you call them again?” Aibek asked, his head tilted to the side.

“Nuns,” David said, glancing around the bridge of the Lion.

“Wouldn’t it be far easier just to invade them, expose their crimes, and allow the galaxy to decide for itself?”

“XO, I already made that argument, in triplicate, to command. Our job now is to follow orders.” David realized he sounded precisely like MacIntosh had earlier. Ah, the joys of being in charge. Why’d I sign up for this again?

“Conn, TAO,” Ruth interjected. “New contact, bearing two-eight-zero, mark positive fifteen. Range fifteen thousand kilometers. Contact identified as a Gonzalez class light transport, designated Sierra fifty-seven.” In CDF nomenclature, a contact designed as Sierra was non-hostile, and not considered a threat.

“Acknowledged, TAO. Well, XO… I think that’s the first wave.” David smirked before he turned toward Taylor. “Communications, get me a vidlink with Sierra fifty-seven.”

“Aye, sir! They’re contacting us, sir. Transferring to your viewer.”

A few moments later, Sarno’s image appeared on David’s viewer screen. To Aibek’s previous point, he found himself startled by her appearance in a traditional white and black nun’s habit and a simple black cloth dress. Desperate times, though, called for desperate measures.

“Mother Superior Sarno,” David said, hoping he didn’t butcher the pronunciation of her name. “I am Colonel David Cohen, commanding officer of the CSV Lion of Judah. Greetings and thank you for your assistance.”

Sarno’s tone was business-like. “Thank you, Colonel Cohen. It has been a long journey, and I am anxious to proceed with our mission. I understand that we are to meet onboard your ship to review the transfer of material and pick up intelligence.”

“Yes, ma’am. We’re ready to receive you and your delegation at any time.”

“Then we would like to come over now, Colonel. I understand that time is short.”

David nodded. “Very well, send a shuttle over.”

“Thank you, Colonel.” The image blinked out after she finished.

Aibek stared at David. “Direct.”

“Just the way I like it, XO.”

* * *

Twenty minutes later, David, Aibek, Hanson, Ruth, Amir, Calvin, and Kenneth Lowe all sat in the conference room on deck one. David pondered how the CDF would avoid being tied back to the sisters’ actions. We’ll use the contractors to keep this as clean as possible. It’s thin, but… the spin doctors will be able to use it.

“I understand that this is a bit unorthodox, folks,” David said. “I believe, however, that it’s our best chance to help these people, as I’ve explained previously.”

Calvin crossed his arms in front of him. “We’re giving civilians a lot of military-grade hardware here, sir. Some of this stuff is cutting edge, especially the crowd control weaponry.”

“The nuns place a premium to safeguarding life. They specifically requested non-lethal weapons, though I do agree we’re going out on a limb here, Colonel.”

The hatch swung open, interrupting David as several women in long robes and the same black and white habit walked in. The woman in the lead bowed slightly. “Colonel Cohen, I am Mother Superior Sara Sarno. Thank you for taking the time to meet with us. May I present Sisters Emma Kaufman and Oni Arendse?”

David stood, as did the rest of those in the room. “Thank you, Mother Superior, Sisters. A pleasure to meet all of you. These are my senior officers—Lieutenant Colonel Talgat Aibek, the Lion’s executive officer, Lieutenant Colonel Hassan Amir, Carrier Air Group commander, Lieutenant Colonel Calvin Demood, MEU commander, Major Arthur Hanson, chief engineer, First Lieutenant Ruth Goldberg, Tactical Action Officer… and finally, Kenneth Lowe. Mr. Lowe oversees the contractors onboard. His personnel will be transferring the supplies.”

Sarno offered a slight smile. “That’s quite a mouthful, Colonel. Though, with so many crewmen on this ship, I would expect an impressive number of officers.”

David gestured to the open chairs at the table. “Please, have a seat.”

The three nuns sat down gracefully, after which David and his team returned to their seats. The marine that had escorted them closed the hatch door behind him, leaving the room secure and silent.

“Mother Superior, thank you for joining us. I’m assuming you are fully briefed on the planet below?” At her nod of assent, David continued. “We’ve prepared an intelligence file with targeting information on the planet’s military forces. Monrovia’s National Guard is limited in size, with roughly fifty thousand active-duty soldiers. It does, however, have more than half a million reservists in its ranks.”

“My understanding is that their level of technology is far behind the Terran Coalition’s,” Sarno said as a point of fact.

Calvin spoke up. “Correct. For instance, their main battle tanks with hover capabilities would be what we consider to be second generation of ‘modern’ weapons. Ours are sixth generation. CDF Intelligence analysis believes that one platoon of our tanks could eliminate a division of theirs. They lack the weaponry to break through our protective materials.”

“I still have concerns that sheer numbers could overrun us.”

David nodded. “We share those concerns and will supply you with the Lion’s entire supply of area denial weapon systems. If you come up against a large force of infantry, those weapons will make anyone within two thousand meters feel like they’re on fire, and the closer they get, the worse the effect gets.”

“The plan is sound, Colonel. My sisters and I have prayed—oh, how we have prayed—and I believe it is God’s will that we help in any way we can. Once we’ve transferred the new weapons and supplies to my flagship, I will call the rest of the sisters to battle. They’re waiting a couple of lightyears away. I would ask that you stay on station until we’re safely on the planet’s surface.”

“That exceeds my orders, ma’am,” David said slowly.

“I see. Will the space superiority fighters given to us have anti-space loadouts as well?”

“I can set you up with some anti-ship missiles, Mother Superior,” Amir said in his accented English. “Monrovia has planetary defenses, but they’re also behind the times. I doubt they will be able to offer much resistance. Regardless, the fighters you will be receiving will be more than a match for Monrovia’s antiquated air forces.”

Ruth leaned forward in her chair, “Mother Superior, if I may… I thought nuns were generally dedicated to helping the sick and needy. I’ve never heard of such an organization as yours before.”

David raised an eyebrow and glanced at Ruth with a questioning look. The truth was, though, he was just as interested in the subject as she was, and he assumed everyone else in the room was too.

Sarno smiled in return. “That’s a question I get often. Our lineage traces back several centuries to when the Exodus had first occurred, right after humanity began to spread out from Canaan. There was a period when military forces were few and far between. We tried to help keep the peace, and in time, we grew. At first, there were only a few hundred members of our order. We expanded greatly during the war with the Saurian empire; it overtaxed the CDF and left them unable to police some of the border planets. We’ve again grown during the ongoing war with the League. We try to fill in the places where the unjust would prey on the weak. Most of our sisters served with the CDF before joining the convent, but some come from neutral planets. A few are even defectors from the League of Sol itself.”

“How do you get funded?” David asked, now thoroughly intrigued. “I can’t imagine keeping what amounts to a private army going is cheap.”

“The same way all religious orders get their funding, Colonel: charity. That and our brother order of monks work for and donate their earnings to our coffers. They keep our equipment in good shape, too. We’re very selective of which causes we take. Only after much prayer and supplication do we decide to accept a request. The justness of the cause must be completely above reproach.”

David nodded, fascinated by the concept. “I must say, Mother Superior, what you’re doing is unique. I salute you and your sisters. I’m also thankful that you were able to help these people, especially when we can’t.”

“I believe the proper term is ‘won’t,’ Colonel Cohen,” Sarno said, her gaze unflinching.

“Orders are orders, ma’am.”

“Just following orders has been used throughout the history of humanity to justify some of the worst possible atrocities. The Nazis, the nuclear destruction of San Francisco before the Exodus, and practically everything the League of Sol does. Let us not forget that refusing to act can in and of itself be a moral crime,” Sarno spat back at him

David’s face betrayed shock; he’d stepped on a landmine unknowingly. “Mother Superior,” he said, in the most diplomatic tone he could muster. “I may agree with your assessment, but my job now is to equip you for this fight and then ship out to engage the League. My prayers will go with you, as will the thoughts and prayers of everyone in this room.”

Sarno inclined her head. “Then I thank you, Colonel Cohen. When can we begin the transfer?”

Kenneth cleared his throat. “I’ve taken the liberty of preparing the supplies in cargo bay one. I’ve got a crew standing by to move the gear once your sisters finish inspecting the goods.”

“That is acceptable to us.”

“Very well. Mother Superior, you and your crew would be most welcome to join my senior officers and me tonight for dinner,” David said with palpable relief.

“Thank you for such a kind offer, Colonel, but we must decline. Our order is very simple, and we will spend tonight praying and beseeching God, his Son, and the Holy Spirit for guidance and strength to see us through this battle.”

David stood. “Then we’ll let everyone be on their way. Good luck and Godspeed.”

Sarno stood, as did the two sisters with her. David gestured for the door, and the Lion’s crew filed out, along with the two sisters. He and Sarno took up the rear. “I’ve meant to ask, how is it that General MacIntosh and you know each other?”

Sarno smiled. “He and I served together. Since I took over the order, he’s helped us on several occasions. Much of our better equipment is CDF issue.”

“Well, that makes sense. The general is a Catholic after all.”

Sarno reached out and put her hand on David’s shoulder. “He thinks much of you, Colonel. Keep up what you’re doing and stick to the narrow path.”

Without waiting for a reply, she turned and walked off with the two other women, their robes sweeping along the floor of the passageway and attracting looks from the crewmembers passing by.

* * *

After the nuns had returned to the cargo bay and the transfer was underway, David decided to make his way to the synagogue, also known as the shul, onboard the Lion. The ever-present tug between his faith and his duties pulled at him as he removed his tallit gadol, or prayer shawl, out of a simple cloth bag his mother had made for him many years before. As it was mid-watch, there weren’t many others in the shul, and he made his way to the small office in the back of the expansive room. He stuck his head through the door and saw Rabbi Kravitz hard at work behind a computer panel.

“Rabbi, do you have a minute?” David asked.

“I’ve always got time for a fellow Jew, David,” Kravitz replied in his jovial voice. “Pull up a chair and tell me what’s on your mind.”

David shut the door behind him and pulled one of the chairs in front of the desk back, sitting down heavily in it. “Rabbi, do you believe that we always have to follow orders?”

“Are you asking me as a fellow officer or as a Jew?”

“Let’s start with just another Jew,” David said, his face drawn.

“I think we have to weigh every decision that we make, and I don’t think that God accepts just following orders as a defense for acting against His mitzvot,” Kravitz said, referencing Jewish law.

“We agree then, Rabbi.”

“Have you been ordered to do something wrong?”

David shook his head. “I’ve been ordered not to interfere in the Monrovian situation. The Lion is to enable a third party to deal with the problem and move on to our next engagement zone with the League. Admiral Kartal is marshaling forces to attack a League-held border planet that has a high lithium ore concentration.”

“Would that have something to do with the Little Sisters of Divine Recompense?” Kravitz asked with a smug grin on his face.

David laughed. “Rabbi, you always know what’s going on. I marvel at that.”

Kravitz winked. “Direct line to God.”

“Yes… they’re going to deal with the Monrovian government. But…” David paused for a moment, his voice failing him, afraid to say what he was thinking. “Rabbi, I was taught and raised my entire life as a child that we would never again sit back and allow innocent people to be slaughtered simply for what they chose to believe in. I’m being ordered to turn away, to step aside. I don’t doubt that these nuns can handle the Monrovian military. But I think by not fighting myself, I’m sinning against God.”

Kravitz sat back in his chair as he steepled his fingers together. “That’s a difficult judgment to make, David. As a fellow officer, don’t you realize you might be subject to severe repercussions for disobeying a direct order?”

“I do. I’m not going to order my crew to disobey orders, but I can’t just forget this and move on.”

“Are you looking for advice or my blessing?”

David smiled ruefully. “Both?”

“I think you‘re a man of deep feelings, and I think you have a need to punish evildoers. I want you to remember that the Torah says that repayment for evil deeds is the Lord’s job, not ours.”

“It also says not to allow others to die or come to harm by our lack of action.”

“Oh, so you think you’re the rabbi now, eh? Maybe I should retire and let you take over here.”

David, in spite of himself, laughed. “I meant no disrespect, Rabbi.”

“I know you didn’t, David, but I worry for you. I can’t tell you not to go and try to right this wrong. For all I know, God wants you to go and will somehow work through you for the betterment of us all. I do want you to check your heart and be sure of your intent. If you want to help save others, then that will work together for good. But if your motivation is to gain revenge on those who have committed these atrocities, it will come back harshly on you.”

David nodded. “Thank you for that perspective, Rabbi.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to take a temporary leave of absence from my post, leave the ship in the hands of the XO, and do everything in my power to help the nuns.”

“General MacIntosh will not be pleased.”

“If the general is half the man I think he is, he’ll be upset, but he’ll understand. I think he’d do the same if he were in my place.”

“I suppose we will both get a ringside seat to see if you’re right, David.” Kravitz shook his head sadly. “Just don’t get hurt down there, okay? It took me long enough to get stationed to a capital ship with a Jewish commander. I’ve come to enjoy eating in the wardroom.”

David laughed out loud; something about the rabbi’s manner was like a salve for the soul. “That’ll be my number one reason for keeping my head attached to its body, Rabbi.”

“Good, good!” Kravitz too smirked a bit before leaning forward in his chair. “Will you come to prayers tonight?”

“Wouldn’t miss it, Rabbi.”

“I’ll see you then, David.”

David stood, nodded his assent, and walked out of the rabbi’s office. Well, this is going to go over like a turd in a punch bowl. Best to get a good night’s sleep after prayers, then brief the senior staff in the morning. I’m probably going to shock them, and not in a positive way.

11

The next morning, David rose at his regular time of 0430 CMT. There was something about the routine that had been ingrained in him to the point that practically no matter where he was—if he was on active duty, on leave, on or off the ship—he woke up without the need of an alarm at 0430. After his regular exercise program, he showered, shaved, and prepared for the day. A hearty breakfast and a big mug of coffee later, he was ready to face the decision he’d made the day before and inform his senior staff what was going to happen.

Walking down the passageway that led to the nearest gravlit, David considered what Sheila would have thought. She always was a stickler for doing what was right, over explicitly following orders. He had spent much of the night second-guessing himself but ultimately decided that doing what he felt was morally right—doing as much as possible to save the lives of the innocents on Monrovia—outweighed every other consideration.

Swinging the hatch to the conference room open, David found the entire command staff already present, including Hayworth and Kenneth, who he had explicitly invited. He cracked a smile as he slid into the chair at the head of the table. “This is a record… everyone here on time.” There was something about the atmosphere in the room, he realized; it was thick enough you could cut it with a knife.

Ruth spoke first. “Sir, are we going to move on without helping these people?”

“Those are our orders, Lieutenant. I have every confidence in the sisters to accomplish their mission.”

“I read up on them, sir. While I have to say I’m impressed with what they accomplish…this is a real, shooting war. That’s a lot different from peacekeeping actions and keeping some pirates at bay.”

“That’s why I’m going to be staying behind,” David said. Gasps sounded, and shock crossed the faces of everyone in the room. He looked to Aibek. “Sorry to spring this on you, XO. I went back and forth on it all night.”

Aibek shook his head. “No apology required, Colonel. In a matter of honor such as this… I respect your decision and commend you for it.”

“You will take command in my absence, XO, and engage the League battlegroup the admiral wants to attack.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Sir, how do you expect to make a difference by yourself?” Merriweather asked.

“I’m not sure, Major. If nothing else, I’m one more gun and another set of hands.”

Calvin broke into his trademark cocky Marine grin. “You want some company, Colonel? These guys sound a whole lot like Leaguers. As we all know, there’s only one way for a Leaguer to retire properly. My Marines would love to assist.”

David shook his head in reply. “No… I won’t see everyone else caught up in charges of desertion. I need to do this alone. There is one thing you can do, though. As our updates flow in, make sure that reporter knows about it. I believe that enormous pressure can be brought to bear against the Monrovian government by the Organization of Non-Aligned Planets, as well as our citizens demanding the Terran Coalition intervene.”

“You got it, sir,” Calvin said.

“Everything else ready on this tub?” David asked the room at large.

“Engineering is good to go, sir; reactor is normal,” Hanson said.

“Of course it’s normal. I designed it,” Hayworth interjected.

Despite his annoyance, David smirked at Hayworth. “Love the confidence, Doctor.”

Hayworth opened his mouth to say something further, only to have Merriweather elbow him in the ribs. “What the doctor means is that the team is doing a wonderful job of optimizing the systems that control matter/anti-matter flow, based on the real-life data we’ve got now.”

Hayworth seemingly changed his tune on a dime. “Quite right.”

Still smiling, David considered how deftly Merriweather had Hayworth wrapped around her finger. She was the only person on the ship that the doctor seemed to genuinely respect. I’m going to have to understand that better sometime.

“Colonel Cohen, do we know what the medical situation with the sisters is like?” Tural asked.

“They asked for a lot of medical supplies. I don’t know too much about their personnel except that they don’t have many doctors.”

Tural nodded, his brow furrowed together as if he was in deep thought.

“Anyone else?”

There was a general shaking of heads around the table. “All right, ladies and gentlemen; good luck out there. Good hunting and Godspeed. Dismissed.”

Those in the room lept to their feet as David rose. Standing at the door, David shook the hand of each person as they left; Kenneth Lowe had taken up the rear. As he got to him, he gestured to the side. “Kenneth, let’s take a moment privately.”

“Of course, sir,” Kenneth said.

“I might need your assistance while I’m on Monrovia. Do you think you could work some magic for me?”

“What kind of magic, sir?”

“Let’s just say I might need access to sensor information, or a go-between for myself and the sisters, with the Lion.”

“And it would be better to have a civilian doing that, so there are no CDF fingerprints?” Kenneth asked.

“Got it in one,” David said. “I won’t ask you to do anything that isn’t morally right.”

Kenneth stepped back on one foot. “What about illegal under the law, regardless of the right or wrong, sir?”

“I can’t promise I won’t ask you to skirt the line; the only thing I can promise is that it will be for the right reasons and a good cause.”

“I’ll do everything I can, but I’d rather not get my people in trouble. I guess what I’m saying is, if it skirts the line and I can do it, I will. I can’t ask the others to do the same.”

“I understand… we’re in the same boat on this one.”

Kenneth stuck out his hand. “Good luck out there, sir. Godspeed.”

David took the extended hand and shook it warmly. “Thank you, Kenneth. I’ll see you in a few days, hopefully.”

As David moved to open the hatch once more and head out, Kenneth called out from behind him, “Hope is not a strategy, sir!”

Smiling, David looked back before he stepped through to the corridor. “No, but I’m pretty sure those nuns have a good one after meeting with their Mother Superior. See you around, Kenneth.”

* * *

Over the next couple of hours, David tidied up his remaining paperwork, sent a time-delayed transmission to General MacIntosh telling him of his plans, and packed a “space bag.” Of all the things he had to do, packing was the hardest because, for once, he wasn’t wearing his uniform in a combat zone. Instead, he put several changes of civilian clothing, along with his essential toiletry gear, into the duffle, and proceeded to the ship’s armory. Most of the contents of the bag ended up being ballistic armor, an advanced battle rifle with infrared optics and his preferred sidearm type, an MS-19. While the standard CDF-issued projectile sidearm was named the MS-18 and sported special rounds for spaceborne combat, its larger brother was energy based and boasted extreme stopping power. The only downside was it went through its charges—battery packs basically—quickly. He was careful to take a couple of handfuls of the small energy cells to go with him.

Walking down the central passageway of the ship, which was triple the size of a traditional one due to the vast size of the Lion of Judah, David made his way from the forward section back to the hangar space. The Little Sisters of Divine Recompense had docked their assault lander in section A2, near the Marine transports. One benefit of wearing civilian clothes on a ship the size of the Lion was that many members of the crew just hadn’t seen him enough to realize who he was as he waded into the sea of humanity that overran the hangar.

He made his way over to the area that the nuns occupied and dropped his bag at his feet, a few feet away from Sarno. “Mother Superior, David Cohen, reporting for duty.”

Sarno glanced at him; she was engrossed in a conversation with several sisters who wore long robes and habits as they looked over the gleaming new battle rifles. “Colonel Cohen?” she asked, her voice slightly higher pitched in surprise.

“Just David Cohen today.”

“This is most irregular.”

“I put in for a temporary leave of absence, Mother Superior. I want to be of assistance in freeing the people on Monrovia, if you’re willing to have me along.”

Sarno’s forehead scrunched together as she stepped toward him. “Col…David, it sounds like you don’t have permission to do this.”

“I do not, ma’am.”

“You could cost yourself a promising career.”

David shook his head. “I’m not in the CDF for a promising career. I’m in the CDF to save lives, defeat the League of Sol, and protect my fellow countrymen. To rescue the weak and defend those who can’t defend themselves. As a soldier and a Jew, I can’t turn away.”

Sarno smiled and held out her hand; David took it and grasped firmly, surprised at how firm her handshake was. “While I’m grateful for your help and glad you saw that just following orders isn’t an excuse to do nothing in the face of evil, there are conditions to joining us.”

“Of course, ma’am.”

“First and foremost, this order has existed for hundreds of years; it has traditions, a defined chain of command, and you will not alter it in any way, nor attempt to. Are we clear, young man?”

“Yes, ma’am,” David said crisply. Hey, it's like boot camp all over again, except instead of Staff Sergeant Salizar, it’s a Roman Catholic nun. If nothing else, my mother will get a laugh out of this story. He forced down a smile.

“With those understandings, I would welcome you to join our efforts.”

Out of the corner of his eye, David thought he saw a group of people in civilian attire; turning his head to see for sure, it shocked him to see Calvin, Amir, Doctor Tural, Rabbi Kravitz, and Angie all walking across the hangar with a sense of purpose. All were dressed in nondescript clothing and carried duffle bags with them, except Angie, who had a hard case and a small bag. Directly behind them were the rest of the senior officers, led by Aibek. Ruth, Hammond, Merriweather, Taylor, Hanson, Dr. Hayworth, and Master Chief Tinetariro flanked him; the rest of the crewmembers of the ship present in the hangar simply tried to get out of the way.

“One moment, Mother Superior,” David said, turning toward the approaching group. “Ladies and gentlemen… what’s the meaning of this?”

Calvin and Amir glanced at each other with an expression that seemed to say, “Who wants to go first?” Calvin spoke up before Amir could. “Well, Colonel… we’re not letting you go off by yourself. Amir’s going to fly one of the fighters and do his flyboy routine, I’m rogering up to plaster assholes, Doc’s here to patch us up, the rabbi wants to convert everyone, and Ms. Dinman is here to make us look bad. That about sum it up, everyone?”

“I’m here to tell the truth about the situation, Colonel,” Angie said, only half-jokingly.

“And Jews do not try to gain converts, for the last time, Colonel Demood,” Kravitz added.

“Do I need to remind you that the Lion is going to fight the League? That’s where you all need to be,” David managed to say after the laughter from the exchange had died down.

“My understanding is that you’re on a temporary leave of absence, Colonel. I believe Colonel Aibek is now the chief Saurian in charge,” Calvin said, seemingly reveling in the role of spokesman for the group.

“Still, I can’t ask you to risk your lives to help me with this endeavor. It’s something I need to do.”

“You’re not asking, Colonel. We’re coming. That’s what friends do, and friends also sign up to shoot Leaguers any time we can.”

David smirked. “There’s no Leaguers here yet.”

“That we know of. Besides, they want to join the League. Good enough for me.”

“We were thinking about parking the ship here and offering fire support, Colonel,” Ruth said with a grin on her face.

David smiled and looked into the eyes of each one of them; he knew he wasn’t going to be able to change anyone’s mind. “Okay, let’s say I agree to this… you still have to convince Mother Superior Sarno.”

Sarno walked over, her gown almost dragging on the floor behind her. “As I told David, you are all welcome. You will follow my orders, you will obey the rules of our order, and you will not attempt to change the way that we do things. If you agree, board the lander. We’re ready to go.”

David’s gaze shifted to Aibek. “XO, are you sure about this?”

“I am certain we will be combat ready, even with the loss of several fine officers. This mission on Monrovia is important. It is important enough to send some of our best assets to act as force multipliers, as you humans would say.”

David smirked; Aibek had studiously picked up human military slang. “Okay. Those of you out of uniform, with me. Everyone else, get back to your stations and make me proud.”

While Calvin and the others moved toward the assault lander, the rest of the senior staff brought themselves to attention and saluted.

David brought his hand to his brow and snapped off a crisp salute in return. “Carry on, ladies and gentlemen… and XO, don’t scratch the paint.”

Aibek grinned in the toothy Saurian way. “Godspeed, sir.”

Turning away, David walked up the bay to the assault lander. The ship’s computer, once it registered his entrance to the sisters’ vessel, played a pre-recorded message. “CSV Lion of Judah departing.”

Taking a moment to contemplate what he was doing, David hoped that commanding the mighty vessel was still an option after the mission to Monrovia was complete. Even if it's not, this is the right call. He was confident deep within his soul he’d made the right decision.

12

Fifteen minutes after David had stowed his gear in a small cabin that was smaller than junior officer’s quarters back on the Rabin, he made his way to the bridge of the ship at the request of Sarno. Funny how we get used to our creature comforts. He considered as he mentally groused about the small rack that seemed designed for a short person. Well, that makes sense; most women are shorter than men, so they can fit more bunks in by making them smaller. I hope I can make some useful contributions here and maybe learn something new myself. More than anything, he liked to observe other command styles and gain nuggets of information to improve his own.

The bridge onboard the assault lander—which the nuns had named Michael—was unlike anything David had ever seen before. It resembled a church more than the command deck of a starship; the bridge crew consisted entirely of nuns wearing both long robes and habits. I’ve got to hand it to them; they live what they believe. Sarno sat in the CO’s chair, while the nuns worked the startup checklist.

“Welcome, David!” Sarno said as David walked into her field of view.

“Thank you, Mother Superior. A fine vessel you have here. Named after the archangel, I assume?”

“Michael is indeed named after the archangel. He is the patron saint of the military, after all, to Catholics.”

“I must confess, my knowledge of your beliefs is limited.”

Sarno gestured at a jump seat to her left. “You may sit.”

David wasn’t quite sure what to make of the taciturn nun yet; he sat as instructed. “Thank you, Mother Superior.” He took in the rest of the bridge. There were stained-glass dioramas throughout the bridge, showing nuns ministering to the sick, helping the oppressed, and several that showed them with weapons of various types, fighting off other soldiers, and in one, a demon.

David tried making small talk. “I’m very impressed with what you’ve done to this ship.”

“It’s been with us for many years now. As the flagship of our small fleet, we’ve tried to make it into a reflection of who we are and our values.”

“How do you handle repairs after battle damage?” David asked.

“We typically do not get into ship-to-ship engagements; our assault landers aren’t equipped for that kind of combat. They carry our drop pods, which can be jettisoned from orbit or closer to the surface and have limited anti-ship weaponry. That was part of my deal with General MacIntosh. We get a destroyer from mothballs in exchange for completion of the mission.”

“A destroyer?” David asked, his eyebrow shooting up in surprise.

“I’ve wanted to be able to protect civilian shipping in the neutral areas of space for some time. Many groups of pirates prey on the weak. Even an older destroyer would be more than a match for them. We could do much good.”

“You and your order certainly dream big, Mother Superior.”

“There are always more good deeds to accomplish, but now we’ve got twelve ships to land and a military base to occupy. Are your compatriots settled?”

David nodded. “Yes, ma’am. Colonel Demood embedded himself with one of your platoons, while Colonel Amir is flying wing to your squadron leader, and everyone else is safely strapped in.”

“This reporter… do you know her?” Sarno asked.

“I’ve known her for several weeks now. I’ve never been a big fan of the press outside of Canaan News Network. I don’t like what I perceive to be a biased presentation of the facts.”

Sarno harrumphed loudly. “I think what you mean to say is that you don’t like a presentation of the facts that are negative against you.”

David smiled. “I suppose you might be right. I see the CDF as the one thing standing in the way of the League and total domination of our country. I’m sensitive to people who criticize it.”

“Allow me to make an observation on the human condition for you. We judge one another based on the outcome of our actions; we judge ourselves on the intent of our actions. Can you see what the problem might be?”

I’d never really thought of that before, David considered. “I suppose I can; we’re inherently lighter on ourselves.”

“Exactly, David. That is why Jesus charged us to judge no one, lest we be judged. Think about that.”

Deciding he didn’t want to engage in a debate about the merits of Jesus’ words, David simply nodded his head. Before too long, the old nun was too busy commanding her sisters as the formation of twelve ships made its initial descent toward Monrovia; so old were these ships that they couldn't do a direct “hot” insertion any longer. It would be several minutes before they were able to enter the atmosphere at a speed that wouldn’t cause them to burn up during reentry.

* * *

The building which housed the parliament of Monrovia, as well as the prime minister’s office, also had a less known but vital function. A bunker under it provided continuity of government and real-time monitoring of all space-based threats. Two plain-clothed bodyguards escorted Fitzroy in the large titanium door into the space beyond that was filled with high-tech electronic and communication equipment.

“Madame Prime Minister, welcome,” a tall, broad-shouldered Caucasian man with graying hair wearing a Monrovian military uniform said as she entered.

“Thank you, General Monahan. What’s going on?”

“Ma’am, we’ve detected a group of twelve transports trying to land on Monrovia. They refuse any attempt at communication, and our orbital assets show this emblem on the side,” Monahan said, pressing a button and pulling up a holo-projected display that revealed a traditional cross in a red hue on the side of the otherwise white spacecraft. “These transports are old CDF ships. They haven’t been outside of training operations in ten years. We believe someone besides the CDF owns them.”

“Clearly allied with the Terran Coalition.”

“That seems like a logical conclusion, ma’am. They also have a squadron of modern space superiority fighters escorting them. Those are brand new CDF issue. Again, showing IFF markers with the same cross design.”

“Is the Lion of Judah still in orbit?”

“Yes, ma’am, though she’s moving off to our Lagrange point, presumably to jump out. Her weapons aren’t charged, nor shields energized.”

“Great… they’ve got someone to invade us and convert us all to Christianity,” Fitzroy said, jumping to a quick conclusion based on the prominent cross display. “General, is the planetary defense grid online?”

“Our satellites are in standby mode, the control center is active, and the upgrades provided by the League’s advisors appear to be working normally, ma’am.”

“Then target the transports and destroy them,” Fitzroy snapped.

“Madame Prime Minister, are you certain? We haven’t been able to establish communications with them… I would hate to start an intergalactic incident by firing on transports that held medical supplies or prompted the Lion of Judah to intervene in the situation.”

“The Lion of Judah won’t get involved because the Terran Coalition doesn’t want another war. It’s not logical to believe that they’re sending medical supplies escorted by space superiority fighters. Now, unless you want to be removed from your post, investigated for treason, and thrown out of the military, blow those transports apart!”

“Yes, ma’am,” Monahan said, his voice tight. “Weapons free on the transports. Tell ground control to focus all fire on the ships; scramble our alert five interplanetary defense fighters to engage the escorts.”

Fitzroy’s voice dripped like fake sugar. “Thank you, General.”

* * *

The bridge of the Michael shook ferociously, and David had to grab on to his chair to avoid being tossed about. Alarm klaxons went off, and the nun that manned the tactical station hit her head on the console, leaving a bloody stain on the screen. Instinct and training took over; he jumped out of his seat.

Finding her pulse to be strong and steady, David glanced back at Sarno. “She’s okay, Mother Superior. Just knocked out.”

“Take the tactical station, please,” Sarno said, steadying herself as the ship shook again.

“Yes, ma’am!” David was already in the process of detaching the nun’s safety harness. With her out of the way, he slid into the seat and tried to make sense of the display. Much of it was different from the CDF standard interface he expected to see; some phrases were in Latin, others were simply different. After a couple of times of trial and error, he was able to run a scan. “Conn, TAO.” He reverted to engrained procedure. “Multiple contacts are attacking us with energy weaponry categorized as small defense satellites.”

“Target the nearest one and engage.”

David picked the closest satellite; the Michael had limited anti-ship weaponry, which consisted solely of a single neutron-beam emitter. Lining up the shot, he waited for a firing solution, then pressed the button to fire. A single beam jutted out from the nun’s ship; the satellites had limited shielding which was quickly burned through, and a moment later, it exploded into fragments.

“Satellite destroyed, Mother Superior.”

“Target the next one,” Sarno roared as the bridge shook.

David zoomed out on his tactical scan, trying to take in how many defense platforms the enemy had. Oh, snap, they’ve got a lot of them. “Mother Superior, the enemy has upwards of one hundred satellites. We don’t have enough firepower to engage them all effectively.”

“Suggestions, tactical?”

“Systems like this don’t run on automatic…take out the control center with the fighters that are flying escort.”

“Do it.”

In the intervening seconds, David searched for the source of the transmissions that controlled the enemy force; a hardened building on the planet’s surface that had numerous transmission dishes around it. “Conn, TAO. Control center identified.”

Before Sarno could respond, the nun at the communications station called, “Immacolata Concezione is transmitting a distress signal, Mother Superior!”

David looked down at his console, zeroing on the assault lander by its IFF code, and seeing that it was under attack by multiple defense satellites. Before his eyes, the ship exploded. He sat back, forcing himself to stay on the mission. Dear God, what have I done?

13

Simultaneously, on the bridge of the Lion of Judah, Ruth watched the transport explode on her screen as well. “Conn, TAO! Sierra Seven destroyed!”

Aibek slammed his fist into the CO’s chair, which he currently occupied. “TAO, set condition one throughout the ship.” Immediately, the lights dimmed and turned blue. He punched up the ship-wide intercom and spoke into the mic. “Now hear this, now hear this. This is Colonel Aibek. Man your battle stations! I say again, man your battle stations!”

“Sir, do you plan to engage?” Ruth asked, hoping that Aibek would say yes.

“We are not to engage, Lieutenant, unless Monrovian forces target the Lion of Judah.”

Ruth looked down at her screen to see the fighters they had given to the nuns suddenly peel away from the formation of transports and head into the planet’s atmosphere. “Conn, TAO. Sierra twelve through twenty-four appear to be attempting a ground attack... pure conjecture here, sir, but I think they’re going after the control center for the defense grid.”

“Navigation, are computations completed for our Lawrence drive jump?”

“Yes, sir, coordinates are locked in, and we are ready to jump,” Hammond said.

Glancing down at her display, Ruth saw multiple missile impacts on a ground target, but all appeared to impact against an energy shield. “Conn, TAO. Negative impact on the Monrovian defense grid.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Aibek said briskly.

Ruth cranked her head around, breaking all kinds of bridge protocol. “Sir, with respect, friendly forces will be picked apart by the Monrovian’s defense before they can effect a landing. We can alter the situation with one well-placed neutron beam strike.”

“This planet is not at war with the Terran Coalition, and we are under orders not to intervene, Lieutenant.”

“We’re going to let Colonel Cohen and the rest of our shipmates die because of that?” Ruth practically shouted. “You’re always going on about Saurian honor, Colonel. Is this how you demonstrate it?”

Aibek’s face immediately flared and the scales on his head flushed. “Do not question my honor, Lieutenant Goldberg. I would do anything in the universe to save Colonel Cohen and the rest of the team.”

“Talk’s cheap, sir. One shot is all it would take,” Ruth said unflinchingly. I’m going to get court-martialed, might as well go for the gold.

“We don’t have clearance to fire on a neutral planet’s military, Lieutenant!”

“Fog of war, sir… perhaps we’re being targeted by the Monrovians as we spin up our drive. We reacted to deal with a threat,” Ruth said, making it up as she went along.

“That is a lie, Lieutenant.”

“One that is justified to do what’s right,” Tinetariro interjected.

Aibek whipped his head around to face her. “You too, Master Chief?”

“Just calling it like I see it, sir, since we’re not exactly going by customs, courtesies, or normal decorum right now.”

“Get me a firing solution on the complex that houses the defense grid control center, Lieutenant,” Aibek said after a few moments of silence.

Ruth turned back around and began to tap at her controls. “Conn, TAO. Firing solution achieved on enemy ground target, designated Master One, neutron cannons.”

“Navigation, can you affect a jump with our weapons capacitor still charged?”

Hammond glanced toward Ruth and made eye contact before answering Aibek. “Yes, sir, we can, though it’ll be far shorter than our destination.”

“TAO, you will shoot a split second before we jump; Navigation, the moment I give the order to shoot, wait two seconds, then jump the ship. Is everyone clear?”

“Aye aye, sir,” Ruth said quickly.

“Aye aye, sir,” Hammond responded.

“TAO, shoot, neutron cannons, Master One.”

* * *

“Conn, TAO! Monrovian ground control center destroyed!” David said, surprised by the sudden destruction of the enemy.

“How?”

“The Lion of Judah engaged as they jumped out. Defense satellites have deactivated. We’re clear to land.” Slumping back in the chair just a bit, David’s mind swam. A second ago, they would’ve had to abort, or been destroyed. Just like that, the tables turned. I’ll have to remember to buy Aibek a bottle of that super sweet alcohol Saurians love, because I owe him big time.

“Remind me to thank your crew for you on the other side of this, David.”

“I’ll gladly do that, ma’am.”

“You may retake the jump seat.”

David looked behind him and saw that several new nuns had entered the bridge. He stood, and one of them immediately took the tactical station. He walked the few feet to the jump seat he’d previously occupied and strapped himself in. “The rest of the fleet looked banged up, but intact.”

“Yes, intact enough to land and fight. We have a deeper problem, however. The ship we lost held few sisters, and I thank our Lord Jesus Christ for that. But it also had most of our medical supplies and ammunition stores. Without her, we can only fight for thirty-six hours, maybe forty-eight if we’re cautious.”

“I might be able to help with that too,” David said, a small smile on his face.

Sarno shifted her gaze over to him, looking down her nose. “There’s a part of me that might suggest you’ve already done enough.”

“Before I left the Lion of Judah, I took steps to make sure I had a way to get things done. If you’d allow me to use the communication system as we land, I believe I can arrange for supplies to be dropped in by ship.”

“The CDF isn’t going to resupply us, David. If you think that, you're far more naïve than I thought.”

“No, they won’t. But Mr. Lowe —the contractor that handled loading the supplies onto your ships— is very creative. Let me try,” David said, his voice direct and sure.

“I suppose no harm can come of that. Sister Maria, contact whoever David would like you to,” Sarno said toward the nun that sat at the communications terminal.

David stood up from the jump seat and made his way over to the console at which Sister Maria sat. “Sister,” he said as a greeting. “Can you send a transmission to this comm address?” He pulled out his tablet and showed her the address.

“Yes, Colonel Cohen. One moment.”

They sat in silence while the vidlink attempted to connect; fifteen seconds later, Kenneth’s bright and smiling face appeared on the monitor. “Colonel Cohen! What can I do for you, sir? Heard you guys ran into some trouble.”

“You could say that… tell Colonel Aibek I’m quite pleased he was able to help us.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Remember I said I might need some help from you?” David asked with a sheepish grin.

“Of course, sir. What do you need?”

“Medical supplies, ammo for battle rifles, spare parts… I can send a full list.”

Kenneth’s face clouded over. “Sir, where would you like me to obtain those parts from?”

“Combination of the ship’s stores and the open market.”

“Not to be indelicate, sir, but with what money?”

“The ship’s discretionary fund.”

Kenneth looked as if he was about to argue but thought the better of it. “Will you personally approve that, sir?”

“I’ll send the proper 1149 form if it makes a difference.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Do you know anyone crazy enough to try to drop the supplies to us?” This was the question David worried about the most.

“I know a guy… former CDF. Got cashiered out of the service, but he’s a good man. Always gets his cargo where he says he will, and there’s always a trick or two up his sleeve.”

David nodded. “Okay, use the same funds to pay him. I’ll approve that too.”

“You sure about this, sir?” Kenneth asked.

He knows I’m committing a crime by misusing what amounts to the Lion’s petty cash, but we’re too far in now to stop. “Yes, Kenneth. Quite sure.”

“Time frame, sir?”

“As soon as humanly possible, but within the next forty-eight hours.”

“Sir, I’m just a defense contractor, not a magician,” Kenneth said with an expression that belied his worry.

“Kenneth, I know it’s a big ask. I know it’s a short time frame, but if we don’t get the supplies, our attempt to help these people goes up in smoke. So, no pressure… just get it done.”

“I’ll do my best, sir.”

“Of that, I have no doubt, Mr. Lowe. Good luck and Godspeed.”

“Same to you, sir,” Kenneth replied with a forced smile.

David nodded to Maria, and she cut off the connection. “Thank you, Sister.”

“Perhaps I underestimated your resourcefulness, David,” Sarno said as he walked back to the jump seat and sat down again. “Our first target is the primary Monrovian National Guard base on their southern continent. I chose that location because it’s the least populated area on the planet, and we need a logistical base of operations.”

“That makes perfect sense, Mother Superior. Logistics, after all, win wars.”

“Mother Superior! There are two squadrons of enemy aircraft on an intercept course with us!” the nun who had taken over the tactical station said, interrupting the conversation.

Sarno set her jaw. “Communications, order our escorts to engage the enemy craft. They are authorized to use all necessary force. Tactical, activate point defense and be prepared to defend against anti-ship missiles.”

David sat back in his chair; trying to be respectful of the nuns and especially Sarno, he decided not to offer any thoughts or ask if he could help. If they need me, they’ll ask. In the meanwhile, he prayed very quietly in Hebrew, asking God to spare the lives of the nuns and his friends, if it was His will.

* * *

While the ships plowed toward their target, Amir hurtled toward the flight of enemy fighters; he and eleven nuns who flew the rest of the squadron that the Lion had transferred to them. The SF-106 Phantom that he piloted had been optimized for in-atmosphere flight, as had the rest of them. They would perform better for close to the ground dogfighting, which he had expected to see quite a bit more of until at least the Monrovians realized how much technology influenced modern combat.

“Christus Vincit One to Christus Vincit Two,” came the voice of Sister Oni Arendse, the nun that served as the squadron commander.

“This is Christus Vincit Two, go ahead,” Amir said.

“Colonel Amir, thank you again for agreeing to fly with us,” she said with a thick accent that reminded Amir of Master Chief Tinetariro.

“It is my honor, Sister. What does Christus Vincit mean again?”

“Christ conquers. Yes, I realize the irony.”

“I take no disrespect, Sister. This is, after all, a Catholic military order. Don’t forget, we respect all people of the book.”

“As we honor you in turn. I have a request of you, Colonel.”

“Of course, Sister.”

“Will you take command of the squadron?” Arendse asked without preamble.

“Are you certain?”

“Yes. I don’t have enough time in this particular model to understand its capabilities fully. I prefer to follow you into battle and continue to train while giving my sisters the best leadership I can.”

“I would be honored to lead you into battle, Sister. Will you inform the rest of the pilots?”

“Yes. Switch back to the squadron comm channel, Colonel,” Arendse said.

Amir clicked the commlink over while mentally checking the sensor reading. Enemy contact would occur in less than three minutes, if the current rate of closure were maintained.

“Sisters, hear me. I’ve asked Colonel Amir to take over for me during this first battle. Our time in these fighters is limited, but our will to fight and defeat evil is not. Fight for God, fight for the innocent, fight for each other, and fight well.”

Through the neural interface, Amir watched as Arendse tagged him as the squadron commander and moved herself to the XO role. One of the few areas of technology in which the Terran Coalition allowed any kind of neurological interface outside of medicine, it allowed a pilot to effectively control many aspects of the fight with his or her mind and gave them a decided edge in combat. Fighter pilots still had to fly using a flight stick and affirmatively pull a trigger or press a button to fire weapons, but nearly everything else was done via the neural interface.

“Christus Vincits,” Amir said, the words foreign on his tongue. “It is an honor to lead you into combat. Form up, four pilots to a group in a finger four formation. I’m sending you designations now; we are three minutes out from maximum engagement range. All pilots lock a target with your onboard fire control system. We will fire LIDAR-guided missiles at max range minus one hundred kilometers. Ensure that your electronic countermeasures are active at all times, and may Allah be with you.”

Amir watched the HUD and noted with satisfaction that, while the sisters might not have flown this specific type of fighter before, they knew their business. Three tight finger four formations emerged within seconds, and Arendse lined up as his primary wingman. The targeting systems didn’t allow for friendly fighters to overlap targets, so Amir locked on to one of the lead Monrovian fighters; the distance between them closed rapidly.

“Allu Ackbah,” Amir said quietly, his mic muted. “Hasbunallaahu wa ni’amal-wakeel,” he continued, reciting in Arabic a prayer for protection against evil; it meant Allah is sufficient for us and the best on whom to depend. It was one of his favorite prayers, and something he said before every combat. He mentally flipped the microphone back on. “We are fifteen seconds away from maximum range. Stand by to launch missiles.”

The missile lock tone sounded in Amir’s cockpit, and he waited an extra second for the next one hundred kilometers to pass. “Christus Vincit One, Fox three!”

There was a chorus of other voices, all announcing the launch of their missiles; Amir watched the HUD overlay as a dozen missiles tracked toward their targets. Warning tones sounded, and as he continued to fly toward the enemy, they launched twenty-four missiles in return. “Christus Vincits, break and attack!” Amir called into the commlink, pulling his stick hard to the left to give the incoming missiles a target moving perpendicularly across space, a far harder thing to actively track and hit.

Then, the missiles they had launched began to hit. Amir’s was the first to erase its target from the universe, turning the Monrovian fighter into a small cloud of debris; over the next few seconds, eleven out of twelve launched missiles destroyed their intended targets. Then it was the enemy’s turn. Not a single weapon that was launched against them even came close; the ECM systems spoofed all missiles fired toward the Phantoms.

“Their missiles appear to be ineffective, Colonel,” Arendse said through a private channel.

“Our ECM is working even better than I had dared hope, Sister. Now we finish this.” Amir clicked the channel back to the entire squadron. “Sisters, continue to press the attack! The enemy will run before us!” Steering his fighter back toward the remaining enemy craft, he lined another one up in his sights and pulled the trigger the moment he heard the missile tone sound. “Christus Vincit, Fox three!”

Knowing that the only hope they had was to close to visual engagement range, the Monrovians pushed up to maximum speed and were able to get in close enough to trigger a furball—what fighter pilots referred to as a tight turning dogfight—but not before they lost five more planes.

“Sister, leave at least one more for me,” Amir said in a light tone to Arendse on the private channel as he lined up behind one of the last remaining opposing fighters. “Christus Vincit, guns, guns, guns!” Miniature neutron cannon fire stabbed out from his fighter; one volley connected and blew the wing off his target. The fighter spun around several times, and he saw the pilot eject right before the craft exploded. “Rahmatullahe alaihe,” he said into the open comm line.

“If I may, Colonel, what does that mean?” Arendse asked.

“It is an Arabic saying. It means, ‘May Allah have mercy on him.’”

“So true, Colonel.”

Rechecking the HUD to regain overall situational awareness, Amir noted that a single Monrovian fighter accelerated away at maximum speed. “We appear to be clear of hostiles, Sisters. Return to escort formation… good job.”

Amir flipped his craft around and lined up to intercept the Michael; on his way, he performed three barrel-rolls, a traditional custom of victory to celebrate his three hard “kills”; while it would take the gun camera and sensor feeds to confirm them, that put his personal score at two hundred and eighty-nine enemy craft destroyed in his career. Subhaan Allah, Alhamdo lillah, Allahu Akbar; another Arabic phrase that meant, “Glory to Allah, all praise belongs to Allah, Allah is the Greatest.”

14

Inside of the transport Pace, which was Latin for “peace,” Calvin found himself strapped into one of fifteen starboard assault pods. There were twenty armored nuns with him, led by an older woman who had leathery skin and looked as if she’d done this particular combat evolution countless times. Most of the younger nuns recited the rosary as the ship hurtled through the atmosphere, but he decided to strike up a conversation with the one who had been referred to as a nun commander by Mother Superior. “Sister Kaufman, I get the feeling this isn’t your first rodeo.”

“No, it isn’t, Colonel Demood,” Kaufman replied.

“Previous CDF experience?”

“Twenty-five years, Terran Coalition Marine Corps.”

“Hoorah, Master Guns?” Calvin asked.

“I prefer not to dwell on my rank or occupation in the TCMC, Colonel, but yes… I was a Master Gunnery Sergeant, 4th Battalion, 3rd Marine division.”

“You guys saw a lot of fighting,” Calvin observed.

“Yes, we did.”

“Forgive me for asking, but after twenty-five years, you’ve more than earned the retirement package. Why are you still fighting?”

Kaufman turned her head toward Calvin. “Because I needed to atone for my sins. Here, yes, I’m fighting, and to my shame, I’ve killed several people in service to the order. But I’ve saved far more. I’m trying to even the scale before I die.”

Calvin pursed his lips together. “Sister, I may be wrong here, but I thought the entire point was we couldn’t balance out the scales. I mean, that’s what my bible says anyway.”

“Are you seriously telling me you’ve never thought about it?”

“I have and haven’t. My job is to fight the Leaguers. I don’t feel too much in the way of remorse for killing the enemy.”

“And the innocent lives we’ve taken in the process of killing the enemy…what about them?”

“I try not to dwell on it, Sister,” Calvin said in his usual cocky Marine tone.

“I’m not sure if I envy you or pity you, Colonel. I can’t stop thinking about the things I did that were wrong… Mother Superior told me I have to let it go and forgive myself. Until I do, I can help the oppressed. That’s what we do, and we do it well.”

Calvin nodded. “Your training and abilities are quite impressive. I do have a question, though.”

“What’s that?”

Calvin gestured to the armored suits the nuns wore. “You guys are wearing white armored suits with red crosses on them. Your helmets have five red stones that reflect light. I get there’s some religious significance to the symbols, but you guys stick out like sore thumbs.”

Kaufman rolled her eyes in Calvin’s direction, and suddenly, her armor shifted color to a camouflage pattern. “Active camouflage pattern technology, Colonel. As for the rest, we want anyone to know who we are in a non-combat situation readily. Hence the white armor with the cross. The red stones symbolize the five wounds of Christ. They remind us of our burden to help others.”

“I see,” Calvin said. “I’m non-denominational myself. When I go to church, that is.”

Kaufman smirked slightly. “Given how you act, Colonel, I think you might need to go more often.”

Calvin rolled his eyes back at her. “Sister, I’m a Marine. Marines cuss. Period. I drink too.”

“We’re all sinners.”

“That we are,” he said with a laugh.

“Now hear this, now hear this. Drop separation in thirty seconds!” boomed a voice that Calvin didn’t recognize from the pod’s intercom.

“Sisters, confirm you’re properly strapped in and that your neighbor is strapped in. Colonel Demood, please ensure your weapon is loaded with stun rounds.”

“I’d prefer to have armor-piercing rounds, if it’s all the same to you, Sister.”

Kaufman gave him a dirty look. “It’s not. Stun rounds first, armor-piercing only if confronted by power-armored soldiers.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Calvin grated. I’m here to shoot bad guys, not stun them.

The light inside the cabin that denoted drop status suddenly switched from red to green, and a moment later, there was a split-second feeling of weightlessness as the pod entered freefall. Then, its thrusters kicked in, and he felt everything pressed into the floor at several Gs. Speaking during a drop was nearly impossible, and Calvin found himself watching the clock that indicated time to touchdown. They had detached relatively close to the ground, so there were only a few seconds to wait before the pod’s retro-rockets fired, and they gently set down. Then the doors to the pod snapped down, and the restraint systems automatically swung upward.

“Move out, platoon! Squad one, take starboard; squad two, take port! Move it!” Kaufman said, her Marine training showing through.

Calvin charged out behind her, his battle rifle at the ready, finger on the trigger guard. As he took in the Monrovian National Guard base, it shocked him at how rundown it looked. There were buildings in disrepair, vehicles parked that looked like they no longer ran, and a general lack of personnel. Not to say there were no enemy soldiers, however. A couple of sentries struggled to pull out sidearms and were quickly shot down with stun rounds before they could even get those weapons out of their holsters.

“Fan out, Sisters!” Kaufman shouted at the top of her lungs as other drop pods touched down around them; they were trying to use overwhelming force to quickly force the defenders back. Dozens more nuns flooded out of the drop pods, and Calvin scrambled to keep up with Kaufman’s pace as she and the first squad pushed forward. Coming out of a maze of buildings, they ran right into the middle of the central square, filled with Monrovian soldiers walking between buildings. Taken aback, he snapped up his battle rifle and started shooting the closest targets with stun rounds, as did the rest of the nuns.

An alarm sounded, and after momentarily freezing, the enemy began to react. Incoming fire kicked up dirt around Kaufman, and a couple of shots impacted her armor. Calvin took cover behind a helicar and reloaded his rifle. “Well, that was fun while it lasted.”

Kaufman slid down next to him and grunted. “Your idea of fun leaves much to be desired, Colonel,” she said before peering up over the helicar and firing on the approaching Monrovians. More and more enemy troops streamed out of what appeared to be the main administration building, many of whom were armed, to Calvin’s surprise. Additional nuns began to appear, and Kaufman directed them toward positions of cover. “Do we have drones on station yet?” she asked into her commlink.

Calvin didn’t hear the response but figured it was a positive one as she handed him a small tablet.

“Colonel, direct in drone strikes on the largest clumps of enemy resistance,” she ordered.

“What, you’ve got stun drones too?” Calvin asked in a snarky tone.

“As a matter of fact, yes, we do. They fire flash-bang grenades and will allow us to move forward.”

“Hoorah,” Calvin said, looking over the tablet; its controls were the same as many other drone systems he’d used over the years, and he quickly picked the largest concentrations of Monrovians and dropped munitions on them. A few seconds later, stun grenades went off, blinding the enemy. The nuns promptly jumped up and poured fire into the dazed defenders.

Most of the men in the square were cut down within ten seconds, and the sisters took up new positions, much closer to the doors of the large central building. Weapons fire gradually subsided, and the front door of the building swung open. A single woman walked out, holding a pole that had what looked like a white tablecloth on it. “Don’t shoot!” she shouted.

Kaufman stood, then she made a hand motion to the nuns to hold and advanced on the woman; Calvin jumped up and joined her.

“Who are you people?” the woman, who wore a military uniform, asked in a bewildered tone of voice.

“I am Sister Emma Kaufman, representing the Little Sisters of Divine Recompense. We’re here to free the people of faith of your planet that are held in detention centers, deprived of liberty, and executed for their beliefs. Surrender now, and I give you my word of honor that we won’t harm those inside. If you don’t surrender, we’ll storm all the buildings on this base, and there will be severe loss of life. We’d greatly prefer not to have that happen.”

“You’re nuns?” the woman replied, her eyes wide.

“Yes,” Kaufman said with a trace of a smirk.

“Let me go back inside and ask the facility commander if he will agree. Will you allow us to leave?”

“No. You will be stripped of all weapons and detained through the end of this conflict. Again, you will be treated with respect and no harm will come to anyone as long as you behave properly and do not offer resistance.”

“Okay… give me a few minutes,” she said as Kaufman nodded. The woman disappeared back into the building, leaving the two of them standing there.

“You know, Sister, we might think about going back to cover,” Calvin mused.

“They’ll surrender.”

“Why are you so sure of that? God tell you from on high?”

“No, Colonel. Because whoever’s in charge cares about those under their command. The flag of truce proves that. Because we have three thousand combat sisters on the ground right now. They have a surveillance system for this installation; they must be able to see our tanks rolling off the heavy armor pods. There’s no way out for them; the only decent course of action is to surrender.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve been in positions where I was outnumbered and outgunned, and I fought to the bitter end.”

“You weren’t fighting for a cause you knew was wrong either. At least some of these people know what they’re doing is wrong, and I think the installation commander is one of those people.”

“I hope you’re right, because I’m not interested in being lit up like a Christmas tree.”

Kaufman smirked but said nothing, waiting in silence until the door opened up again, and the same woman came back out holding the pole with its white tablecloth. “Sister?” she asked.

“Have you reached a decision?”

“Yes, Sister; we will surrender. What are your terms?”

“Come out one by one, hands in the air. Leave all weapons inside of the building and ensure that everyone is out before we sweep the building. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I do. I’ll inform the general.”

Kaufman glanced at Calvin as the woman walked back inside. “See, Colonel? Our first victory.”

“It gets harder from here, Sister.” He wasn’t convinced the assignment wouldn’t get out of control; seventy-five hundred nuns versus an entire planet weren’t odds that he cared for. But I can’t let David run off and get himself killed.

* * *

A few thousand lightyears away, General MacIntosh sat down at his desk in his office onboard Canaan’s primary military space station. Now leading an effort to create smaller, reproducible anti-matter reactors, his team had tripled in size. Glancing at the clock on the wall that read 0530 CMT, he reflected briefly on how the days got longer and the period to sleep got shorter. The one thing that MacIntosh insisted on was obtaining his first cup of CDF coffee for the day before opening his email and video message logs for the previous six hours. Taking a sip, he pressed his finger into the sensor to confirm his identity and watched as the screen populated. A message marked as urgent from David jumped out at him, and he pressed a finger on it, pulling up the full text.

General MacIntosh,

I have decided to accompany the Little Sisters of Divine Recompense on their mission to Monrovia. I realize that I am disobeying a direct order and that there will likely be severe consequences for my actions. I also believe that as a Jew, a soldier in the CDF, and as a human being, I cannot turn aside. I have to try to help these people, no matter the cost. I have left Lt. Colonel Aibek in command, and he is proceeding at best speed to rendezvous with Admiral Kartal. Assuming the mission is successful, I hope to speak to you again soon. If it is not, I want you to know it was an honor to serve under your command. Good hunting and Godspeed.

– Colonel David Levi Cohen

MacIntosh had to read it twice to comprehend what David was saying fully; all the while, the anger inside of him continued to build. What in the hell does he think he’s doing? We can’t just run off half-cocked on what we want to do, when we want to do it, he fumed. Then again, Andrew, you’ve pulled some stunts yourself, like waylaying President Spencer and getting his buy-off on the reactor plans. As he thought, another message popped up, the sender information showing as Aibek’s. Oh great, what now? MacIntosh pulled that message up to read.

General MacIntosh,

I am writing you to inform you that several members of the crew have requested leaves of absence, and I have approved them. Lt. Colonel Calvin Demood, Lt. Colonel Hassan Amir, Lt. Colonel Izmet Tural, Rabbi Kravitz, and the embedded reporter, Angela Dinman, have joined the Sisters of Divine Recompense and their cause to free Monrovia. CDFPER has been provided with proper documentation. The Lion of Judah has rendezvoused with Admiral Kartal’s fleet, and we are preparing to attack the League battlegroup formation as ordered.

– Lt. Colonel Talgat Aibek

“You have got to be shitting me,” MacIntosh said out loud after reading the message. Gripping his tablet with such strength his knuckles turned white, he flung the tablet across the room with enough force to damage the wall and shatter the usually durable piece of computing technology.

A moment later, his adjutant, Major Melanie Roberts, rushed in. “General, are you okay, sir?”

MacIntosh shook his head. “You know what the problem with putting an unorthodox idealist in charge of the largest, most capable warship ever designed by human beings is, Roberts?”

“No, sir.”

“He goes off the reservation at the drop of a hat because he can’t see the big picture! Worse, now we have no way of plausible deniability if the Monrovians win!”

“I’m sorry, sir, I’m a bit lost here.”

MacIntosh opened his mouth then closed it. He waited a moment to calm himself. “You haven’t been read in on the situation, so I can’t tell you about it. I’m sorry too. I lost my composure.”

“If I may, sir, you did want a unique commander for the Lion.”

“That I did. Well, I’ve got the most unorthodox Orthodox Jew I’ve ever seen. I hope he doesn’t mess this up because it’ll be a PR disaster if he does. That’s the last thing we need right now. Our people’s morale is up, the League is on the run. Any change to the negative will be catastrophic.”

“Is there anything I can do to help, sir?”

“No. Just pray that God is looking out for our people,” MacIntosh replied sourly.

“Always, sir.”

“Carry on, Major.”

Roberts nodded respectfully and walked out of the room, leaving MacIntosh to stare blankly at the wall. Damn you, David, you better not have screwed up all the work we’ve spent all these years on with some misguided need to be a hero.

15

The command shuttle’s rear ramp swung down as Calvin glanced around the area. Dozens of sisters in battle armor lined both sides of the shuttle as both an honor guard and a real protection force. As the ramp continued to lower, he saw Mother Superior Sarno and her aides standing in their religious robes, wearing full habits. Forget all the other sacrifices they make, Calvin thought to himself. How the heck can they stand wearing those robes in this kind of heat? It speaks to dedication almost as good as the Marines. Almost. David stood at his right, both of them still wearing full combat armor and carrying battle rifles. Colonel makes a halfway decent combat Marine. Put him through some training, and he might be able to keep up with a few of my recruits.

As soon as the ramp touched the dirt, Sarno and the rest of the nuns walked out of the shuttle; Sarno was the first to set foot on the hard, red clay. Kaufman stepped forward and addressed her. “May the Lord be with you, Mother Superior.”

“And also with you,” Sarno answered.

Calvin brought himself to attention, as David had as well.

“Colonels, I see you made it safely,” Sarno said, looking at David.

David smiled. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Any word on getting some real bullets?” Calvin said, drawing a sharp look from Sarno.

“Remember the terms of our agreement, Colonel Demood. You will obey the rules of our order if you wish to fight with us.”

When he opened his mouth to send another zinger, Calvin thought the better of it. “Yes, ma’am,” he finally said, echoing David’s approach.

“Sister Kaufman, what is your assault element’s status?”

Kaufman stepped forward. “No fatal casualties, Mother Superior. We have full control over the base, and all enemy combatants have surrendered. Unloading of our gear and billeting of the sisters who have landed continues.”

“Very good,” Sarno said, nodding her head. “I would like to tour the facility.”

“Of course, Mother Superior. This way, please.” Kaufman gestured in front of her. “I would be honored to escort you.”

Calvin followed David’s lead and fell in behind the procession of nuns. “Sir, why are we tagging along?” he whispered into his ear.

“I don’t think we’ve got anything better to do,” David said, keeping his voice low to match Calvin’s.

They had trudged across half the parade ground when a younger nun ran up and presented herself in front of Sarno, curtsying. “I apologize, Mother Superior, but it is urgent.”

“What is it, child?” Sarno asked, her tone patient.

“Soldiers and a man who claims to command them have arrived at the gate. They claim to be our allies and wish an audience with you.”

Calvin watched as Kaufman and Sarno exchanged raised eyebrows. “Is our command tent erected?”

“That is still in progress, Mother Superior.”

“Then bring the leader of these purported allies to us in the hospital I was briefed we had taken control of. As it is secure, we will meet with him there.” Sarno turned back to Calvin and David. “Would you care to join us?”

“Yes, ma’am, we’d be happy to,” David said respectfully on behalf of both of them.

“Good. Sister Kaufman, please lead the way.”

The nuns marched quickly through the Monrovian military base, leaving Calvin impressed with the fact that what appeared to him to be an elderly woman could easily set the pace for a group of battle-hardened soldiers. The group passed through the entrance to the hospital, which was guarded by multiple sisters with battle rifles, as well as fixed heavy weapons emplacements, squad service weapons, and at least one anti-aircraft missile battery.

Kaufman led them to the lobby, crowded as it was with nuns carrying heavy equipment and supplies. Standing out though, was a distinct group of men. Several wore Monrovian military uniforms, while most of the others were clothed in unassuming civilian attire.

A tall, broad-shouldered man in a well-pressed uniform stood up and walked confidently toward the group of nuns. I can smell brass a mile away.

“General Harvey Monahan, formerly the commanding officer of the Monrovian National Guard. Unknown to our civilian leaders and most of the people on our planet, also the leader of the resistance against Prime Minister Fitzroy and her band of murderous thugs,” he said while extending his hand out to Sarno.

Sarno looked down at Monahan’s hand, then took it in her own and shook it. “General, I will confess, I am most shocked at your appearance here.”

“There are people throughout the government and the military that abhor the actions of our leaders, Mother Superior. I will begin by apologizing for firing on your vessels. I did so under penalty of being shot by the prime minister. There was simply nothing I could do.”

“I understand, General. I am very thankful only a few of our sisters died when our supply vessel was destroyed.”

“Do you plan to move against the government? My forces are set up in cells across the planet. We stand ready to help you topple this regime and restore order and humanity to Monrovia.”

“We’re not here to affect regime change, General. My order is here to liberate the camps and set up safe zones for humanitarian evacuations.”

Monahan’s face twisted, a clouded look of distaste momentarily displayed.

Calvin stared at him intently. Yeah, he’s about as thrilled about this as I am. We ought to be out there smashing the Monrovian government’s heads in.

“Mother Superior, I must protest that I don’t see how we can save all the religious citizens on this planet without decapitating the government, the police, paramilitary units, and the National Guard. With those institutions neutralized, citizens that believe as we do would be free to express themselves once more and escape. Today, regardless of what faith you have or even if you question the idea that there is no higher power, you must hide that belief within you and mention it to no one, never write it down, and try to throw suspicion onto others. People are snatched from the streets and their homes in the dead of night. Our entire planet lives in a state of terror.”

Sarno’s face retained its mask of serenity, coupled with a harsh stare. “General, we are here to save lives, not take them. We will use the least amount of force required to complete our mission, and I will tell you for the last time that our order does not engage in regime change. If your planet should rise up and remove its government, then perhaps that would be a different question. Today, again, we’re here to liberate the camps and evacuate as many as we can.”

“Is the CDF involved in this operation?” Monahan asked, looking directly at David as he spoke.

“Absolutely not. Those of us here, including me, Colonel Demood, Dr. Tural, and Colonel Amir, are strictly volunteers. We’ve all taken a leave of absence from our duties in the CDF.”

“The Terran Coalition can’t spare a few thousand soldiers?”

“General, our government isn’t willing to declare another war right now.”

“Yes, because we don’t have any important minerals. God knows, if there were a supply of lithium on this planet, you’d do anything needed to safeguard the supply and make sure it flowed into your war machine,” Monahan said, his voice testy.

“I speak only for myself, not the Terran Coalition. And I’m here, along with my fellows, to do whatever we can to help.”

Monahan shifted his focus from David and back to Sarno. “Will you allow us to assist?”

“Any who wish to fight under our banner are welcome. However, you must agree to abide by the rules of our order. The first of these is that we avoid casualties at all costs. We use stun weapons when at all possible. Your soldiers must agree to this condition, or we will not fight side by side with them.”

“And how exactly do you stun enemy aircraft?” Monahan said, his tone sour and sarcastic.

“We don’t. There are areas we accept must include death, and we will use lethal force if and when it is required. Until that time, we avoid casualties. Are we clear, General?”

Calvin found it difficult not to snicker. She must’ve been a TCMC senior drill instructor. That general just had poop thrown all over his brass, and she told him to polish it up to boot.

“We’re clear, Miss—”

“You may address me as Mother Superior Sarno or simply Mother Superior.”

“Yes…Mother Superior,” Monahan finally grated out.

“I believe if we agree, I will take my leave of you all for prayer and supplication for our mission.”

“Of course.”

Calvin thought he looked eager to get out of the room. I would be too.

“I will meet you all later in the command tent,” Sarno said before turning away, her robe sweeping after her.

“That is one tough lady,” Calvin said after the nuns had departed. “Had to be a Marine.”

David smirked. “Because only Marines are tough?”

Monahan crossed his arms in front of him. “This business of not using lethal ammunition is silly.”

“It’s their party, General. We’re just tagging along,” David said.

“Yeah. Well, it’s my planet. I’ve been fighting here a heck of a lot longer than any of you. I’m going to go collect my troops and get them situated.”

“Good luck, General,” David said while extending his hand. Monahan took the offered hand and shook it before walking out.

“Pleasant fellow,” Calvin said.

“After what he’s been up to the last however many years? I’ll give him a pass.”

“Fair enough.”

“How about we go find some grub?”

Calvin grinned. “Now you’re speaking my language, Colonel.”

“We’re off duty. The name is David.”

“Yeah… I’m a Marine. Sir.”

David laughed. “Let’s go.”

* * *

A few hours after General Monahan revealed himself to be the leader of the resistance movement and sent shockwaves through the CDF team and the nuns, David found himself walking through the military installation they had captured. Some sisters were busy marching prisoners into holding areas, while others erected static defenses and brought air defense systems online. The hospital attracted his attention again, even though he’d been there earlier in the day, thanks to Dr. Tural’s presence outside, directing traffic.

Adjusting his path, David made his way over to the doctor. “Salaam-Alaikum, Dr. Tural.”

“Wa-Alaikum-Salaam, Colonel Cohen,” Tural said. “How are you doing, sir?”

“I’m honestly a bit shocked we survived the trip down.” David cracked a smile. “It was more than touch and go there for a moment.”

“I’m thankful at times that my place is deep within the ship; I rarely know how close we all come to dying daily.”

“Mother Superior told me they lost most of the medical supplies. How bad is the situation, honestly?”

Tural shook his head. “Not good, sir. I thank Allah we managed to take this hospital intact for the most part, and while we don’t want for basic medical supplies, the more advanced materials, especially for battlefield wound treatment, are lacking.”

“I’ve set in motion obtaining new supplies, but it’s going to be at least thirty-six hours before they arrive.”

“The sisters have also insisted on treating all enemy combatants and civilians.”

“I can see that… they’re even more stringent on saving lives than we are. Calvin was complaining loudly to me a few minutes ago that he’s not allowed to use lethal ammunition except against vehicles and power armor.”

“I am concerned that we won’t have enough supplies left to treat our casualties. The sisters will undoubtedly suffer combatants wounded in action,” Tural insisted.

“Doctor, I hear you. But to these folks… all life is sacred. Period. They’ve got a very rigid code of honor. You or I aren’t changing it… besides, I’ve known you to insist on treating all wounded, regardless of who they are.”

“Of course… that’s my duty as a doctor. I must treat all patients without regard for who they are or what they’ve done. However, this is a situation where I would invoke the proverb of trust in Allah but tie your camel to a tree.”

David laughed. “You grew up on New Arabia, didn’t you?”

“One of its moons, sir. A heavy G environment that had approximately 1.3 normal earth gravities.”

David frowned. Heavy-G causes all kinds of health problems. He’s lucky to be alive. “That must have been hard.”

“Yes, it was. My younger brother didn’t survive. It tested my faith and still does to an extent. You see, I think my parents believed that Allah would grant us a miracle because of our faith. I’ve come to believe that God helps those that help themselves, as one of my Christian friends put it.”

“That’s not for me to judge, Doctor,” David said. “But here, we’ve got an opportunity to help people. I think these nuns are the best opportunity we have to do that, right here, right now, on this planet.”

Tural nodded his agreement but did not speak.

“Can you get me a list of supplies we need in advance of a more formal resupply mission?”

“Yes, of course. Do you have something in mind?”

“Well, this planet has drug stores, warehouses, and military bases. If we need things, let’s shop local first,” David said with a smirk.

It was Tural’s turn to laugh. “Colonel… I have to say, I love how you put a positive spin on the worst situations.”

“I haven’t always been that way. Blame Colonel Aibek, our recent success in the war, and a changing of perspectives after Sheila died.”

“Do you still believe she appeared to you?”

David turned his head to the side and peered at Tural. “Some days, yes…some days, no. Honestly, I try not to dwell on it. All I know is that what happened that night gave me the strength to carry on. Since then, the things that have happened have continued to give me that inner strength we all so desperately need.”

“I wish I’d been able to give you a more definitive answer.”

David shrugged his shoulders. “The Torah makes clear that we have to accept some things by faith. Miracles imply faith, and not everything is explainable. How we define the margins… is our faith. I look at our universe and the mystery of how we arrived here and believe an all-powerful being explains it. An atheist thinks it’s random chance. Who’s right? Who’s wrong? I guess we’ll find out when we die, but my faith is unshakeable.”

“Not even in the face of horrendous loss?”

“No. The Lord gives; the Lord takes away. Blessed be the name of the Lord,” David replied to Tural’s puzzled expression. “The book of Job.”

“I see, sir. Well, I’d better get back to setting up this hospital properly. It won’t do itself.”

“Good luck, Doctor. I’m going to grab a bite to eat and attend the briefing the sisters have called for to discuss our strategy. I’m curious to see what insights General Monahan can offer… this is, after all, his planet.”

“Ila’liqaa’, Colonel,” Tural said, an Arabic expression for “until we meet again.”

16

Calvin walked through the flaps of a large tent bearing the symbol of the cross; for some reason, the sisters wanted their HQ operation outside of the administration building on the military base and were adamant about using only the equipment they had brought with them. David and General Monahan had already arrived, as had Sarno and several younger nuns, whom he recognized as what passed for platoon and company commanders, including Kaufman. They still had their battle armor on but had changed it back to an all-white configuration and exchanged their helmets for habits. The juxtaposition of battle armor, nuns’ habits, and gleaming battle rifles were more than a bit jarring, even for Calvin, who had thought he’d seen just about everything at his age.

“Mother Superior, Sisters, Colonel,” Calvin said in greeting.

Sarno glanced up at him. “Thank you for joining us, Colonel Demood.”

David inclined his head and shifted to one side, leaving a space for Calvin to stand that he gratefully took. They gathered around a large table with a map —an old-school paper map at that— of the planet’s surface. Different colored pins showed Monrovian troop concentrations, camp locations, and large supply centers. Dr. Tural and Amir entered together, taking open spaces up near the far side of the table.

“I believe we are ready to begin,” Sarno said, looking about the room. “Let us pray.”

Calvin bowed his head and closed his eyes as the older nun spoke once more.

“Lord God, there is nothing that is beyond Your power, there is nothing beyond Your will. Bless our purpose here today, and help us to protect the oppressed, comfort those who are hurt, and strike fear into the hearts of those who would oppose your will. Bless those who stand with us and thank You for watching over us in our last battle. May we all serve You today in Your will, Amen.”

“Amen!” Calvin said with gusto while all those around murmured the same.

“I would first like to commend all involved for the success of our first engagement. All of you performed superbly, and in so doing, brought honor to the name of God and His commandments. We stand here now to decide on our next actions. Sisters, I know it is unusual to see outsiders among our ranks, but as they’ve fought beside you, I believe they showed their worth. So we will today ask for their counsel as well.”

David nodded and respectfully inclined his head. “Thank you, Mother Superior. We are here but to serve.”

“Our first order of business must be to begin to free those held in the internment camps established by the Monrovian government,” Sarno stated. “I believe that by doing so, we can bring hope to those still in bondage, increase the number of soldiers who support us, and show this wicked government that it cannot bind those who have faith any longer.”

Dr. Tural cleared his throat. “Mother Superior, do you intend to use prisoners from the camps as combatants?”

“There are only seventy-five-hundred of us versus a fifty-thousand-person strong military force. So yes, Doctor, I’m looking for all the additional troops I can get.”

“Those people will likely have been starved, mistreated, and will be unable to fight without rehabilitation, food, and rest,” Tural said forcefully.

“I think what the doctor is trying to say is that anyone we get out of those camps won’t be that useful to a war effort,” David amplified.

Monahan shook his head and crossed his arms. “I would have to disagree, Colonel. Military-aged men and women are inside those camps. I’m sure they held up better than the rest and might be willing to pick up a weapon and help free their fellows.”

“With all due respect, General… after a human being is starved and left without proper nutrition and exercise, the muscles atrophy. If they’re starved enough, the body begins to shut down.”

“So we feed them, Doctor,” Monahan said, directing a bored look at Tural.

“If we feed them normal food in that state, it would kill them. I’ve served in liberated League gulags, General. We lost twenty percent of our patients even with the best medical care available to us. By Allah, it would be against every medical ethic to ask these people to go out and fight.”

“The sanctity of human and alien life is extraordinarily important to us, Doctor,” Sarno said. “Is it not possible, however, that some of these people will be in something approaching decent shape?”

“It’s possible, but I don’t want us going into it thinking we’ll get an army out of the rescues. The first objective must be to do no harm.”

“Then we agree,” Sarno stated before changing subjects. “What of our supplies, Colonel Cohen?”

“Twenty-four to thirty-six hours away, Mother Superior. I’ll contact my guy tonight and confirm the details.”

“Your guy?” Monahan said in a mocking tone.

“Civilian defense contractor. Reliable and discreet. I’m confident he’ll get the supplies in here that we need.”

“Then we have the subject of tactics to discuss. There are two main options here; we attack the camps and save as many as we can, or we could use our strength to attack government and military targets and try to bring down this government,” Sarno explained.

David pointed to the nearest concentration camp on the map. “I strongly suggest we stick to liberating the camps for now, outside of strikes required to decrease their force effectiveness, Mother Superior.”

“I disagree. We need to hit the Monrovian government as hard and as fast as we can and topple it. After that, nothing else matters,” Monahan said.

“General, we don’t have the strength to do it. We have an island of superiority right now where we control the ground and air. Your stratofighter and space fighter strength is nearly three hundred craft. We’ve got twelve,” David shot back.

“Your twelve are so advanced, our planes can’t even target them.”

“Until they run out of missiles and get into visual range. No, sir, I cannot support that course of action. I believe we should stage a few hit-and-run attacks, mostly on airbases that house platforms capable of projecting power, and as much as possible stick to saving the innocents. And if you want to get cynical about it, pictures of half-starving people being ferried back here for medical treatment plays a hell of a lot better on the holochannels than pictures of dead Monrovian soldiers, followed by them claiming we’re religious terrorists.”

Calvin shifted his feet. Heh, David sure doesn’t pull any punches. I gotta admit, I like his style. “I’ve got to back the colonel a hundred percent here, ma’am. This fight is as much about optics as it is the battlefield. I do enjoy shooting bad guys, preferably in the head, but this time, I think we need to focus our attention on the camps.”

Sarno cleared her throat. “I appreciate your input, gentlemen. My order came here to liberate the oppressed people on this planet. After considering all points of view, the only viable way I see forward is to liberate as many camps as we can, as fast as we can. I am, however, very interested in degrading Monrovia’s ability to project offensive military power at us. Sister Arendse, have you reviewed the intelligence reports as to where the enemy stores its bombers and strike-capable fighters?”

“Yes, Mother Superior. They have about sixty bombers. Most of their fighters can carry bombs and ground attack missiles. The bombers, however, represent the most dangerous target. At least fourteen of them can launch large numbers of cruise missiles,” Arendse said, speaking for the first time since the meeting began.

“I would recommend we use our entire force to strike at this threat,” Amir interjected. “Two fighters on overwatch with anti-air munitions, the rest outfitted with as many pinpoint bunker penetration munitions as they can carry. If we get lucky, we’ll take out the entire force on the ground.”

“I don’t believe in getting lucky, Colonel,” Sarno said with a sour expression. “What would you say the odds are of actually accomplishing that feat?”

“Less than twenty percent, Mother Superior. A more likely outcome is we take out sixty to seventy percent of the bomber force.”

“What are the odds that the Monrovian Air Force outfits itself for ground attack missions and comes after us, General?” David pointedly asked of Monahan.

“Fitzroy is insane. She’ll order everything she’s got at us. The only reason they’re not attacking now is their bombers are typically outfitted for anti-capital ship attack in space. It will take some time to get the right missiles and bombs out of storage and rearm them.”

“Then we’re agreed,” Sarno said. “Sister Arendse, I want your squadron wheels up as soon as possible.”

Amir raised his hand. “If it’s all the same, I’d like to fly with the attack force.”

“That’s Sister Arendse’s decision.”

“I’d be grateful for Colonel Amir’s support, Mother Superior.”

“Good. You all know what needs to be done. Get to it, and may God have mercy on our souls,” Sarno said, adjourning the meeting.

Monahan was the first person out of the tent, followed by Sarno, and the rest of the sisters. Calvin, David, Tural, and Amir were left behind. “Anyone want to take bets on our chances here?” Calvin asked cheerfully.

“I’m more worried about the logistics than anything right now. It’s going to take these guys some time to regroup. If we keep pouring on the pressure, it’ll keep them off balance. My concern is that we lose focus and turn this into a regime-change operation,” David replied.

“Surely you don’t believe that the rulers of this planet should be allowed to stay in power?” Amir said, his tone one of disbelief.

“Of course not, Hassan,” David began. “But we don’t get to make those changes. The mission the nuns signed up for is the same as the one I signed up for: save the innocents. If General Monahan and his resistance folks want to keep fighting, all power to them. Personally, I think they should cut bait, come with us, and we’ll deal with Monrovia after we’re done with the League.”

“People do not like to give up their homes, Colonel,” Tural stated as if he knew from experience what he was talking about. “They become irrational; they cling to hope that isn’t real. The rebels are no different.”

David just shook his head. “I feel for them, Doctor. But we’ve got to avoid mission creep. I know you all are doing your best to be force multipliers. I think we’ve struck a good balance between offering advice and not getting in the way of the Mother Superior. So keep it up.”

“Yes, sir!” Calvin said crisply.

“Of course, sir,” Hasan replied.

“I will do my best,” Tural finished.

“Thank you. Now move out.”

The rest of them scattered, and Calvin found himself walking toward what they would have called the warrant-hole on a Marine base, where all of the shuttles were parked. I’m going to suit up and see if Kaufman will have me along again. Who would have thought it? A few officers and bunch of nuns wiping the floor of a whole lot of bad guys. Maybe there really is a God. He smirked to himself. I know I say that a lot. I wish I saw something more of Your intervention on something like a daily basis. He glanced up at the sky for just a moment before resuming his progress.

* * *

Meanwhile, on the Lion of Judah, Kenneth Lowe entered his small cubbyhole of an office deep in the bowels of the ship. He had spent most of the day rounding up supplies and trying to avoid an increasing number of questions about why he was so secretive. I even had to lie to the people who work for me. Just can’t let them get caught up in this in case there are repercussions.

Sitting down at his desk, Kenneth noted with satisfaction that he’d been able to obtain all of the supplies David had asked for; now he just had to find a way to get them to Monrovia safely and on time. Looking through his contact list, one name jumped out at him: James Henry. Captain Henry owned the Shadow Wolf, an independent freighter that he’d employed on a previous contract to move a cargo of munitions. There was a black mark next to his name from being cashiered out of the Coalition Defense Force, but Kenneth had been impressed with him when they met. Pulling up the vidlink profile, he sent him a request that began with, “Have a cargo for you to move on short notice. Good pay.”

It didn’t take long for the vidlink to go through; James Henry’s face appeared on the monitor, a grin creasing his lips. “Well, I’ll be… Kenneth Lowe… I haven’t heard from you in two years. How are you?” he asked with hardly a trace of an accent to give away his birth; his skin tone indicated that somewhere he had relations in what was once known as Africa.

Kenneth smiled in return. “Oh, I’m okay. Been keeping myself quite busy.”

“I hear you’re working on the Lion of Judah these days.”

“Guilty as charged. Been assigned to the ship for about eighteen months now.”

“I doubt this is a social call, given your comm request language. Might make a guy like me think you’re a bit desperate,” Henry said, getting down to business quickly.

“Yeah… I need someone with your special skills.”

Henry smiled broadly. “Which set?”

“Getting in and out of a tight place without drawing attention to yourself. I’ve got a cargo of medical supplies, munitions, and spare parts for delivery to a planet.”

“Is this planet in the League of Sol?”

“No, it’s not.”

“Why can’t you have the CDF drop it in for you, then? It can’t be as simple as delivering a cargo. Never is with you defense contractors.”

“Well, the planet in question is Monrovia.”

Henry’s jaw dropped open. “You want me to fly into an active war zone… wait a minute, the CDF is supplying those nuns?” he asked with a tone of disbelief. “I thought it was a joke when I first heard the holonet broadcast.”

“No joke. But they need supplies, and I have them ready.”

Henry narrowed his eyes, staring at Kenneth through the commlink so intently, he thought the man was looking into his soul. “Is this a sanctioned CDF op?”

“No, James, it’s not.”

“I want quadruple my normal charge.”

Kenneth’s face twisted. “I don’t have that kind of cash! Double is the best I can do.”

“You’re obviously getting money from somewhere. Get more.”

“I can’t… I’ve got a specific amount to work with, no more.”

“Three times my normal charge.”

“Best I can do is two and half times,” Kenneth said.

“Not good enough… besides, I can tell from your facial expression that you’re holding out on me.”

Ugh, I have to do something about my crap poker face. “You’ve got a deal at three times your normal rate.”

“See, wasn’t that easy?” Henry replied, back to a grin.

“Why do you have to charge so much to do this anyway? It’s for a good cause.”

“Oh, I’m sure it is, which is why I’ll do it in the first place. But my ship, my crew…we have expenses,” Henry said, again with a grin on his face.

Kenneth shook his head in mock exasperation. “I’ll transfer half the funds when you pick up the cargo, half on successful delivery.”

“Deal. Send me the coordinates and a time to pick up. See you soon, Kenny boy.”

17

David glanced at Calvin, both strapped into seats onboard what had just a few days previously been a TCMC assault shuttle. Now it was owned by the Little Sisters of Divine Recompense, and hurtling toward its target—a Monrovian concentration camp—on the lesser populated southern continent. They had pretty good intelligence from Monahan about its general layout, and the shuttles were prepped to destroy the guard towers before the landing commenced.

“Can you believe we’re doing this, Colonel?” Calvin asked, a broad grin evident on his face.

“Not really. Can’t say I got up a couple of days ago thinking I’d be running ground ops in civilian attire with a group of nuns.”

Most of the nuns that shared the shuttle with them were quietly praying or reflecting.

“You trying to say nuns can’t fight, Colonel Cohen?” Kaufman asked with a wicked grin on her face that was barely visible to David through her helmet’s visor.

“Hey, I won’t lie. I never thought the words ‘fighting’ and ‘nun’ went in the same sentence. But you ladies have made me a believer.”

“Good save, Colonel,” Kaufman said, still wearing a grin.

“Fifteen seconds from touchdown!” the voice of the shuttle’s pilot called out, and the lights dimmed to red.

“Semper Fi, do or die!” Calvin shouted. “Now let’s give these Monrovians some…” He stopped in mid-sentence, seemingly searching for a word that wasn’t profanity.

“Let us stop them from doing evil, and then try to save their souls,” Kaufman corrected.

“Uh, yeah, that.”

David just laughed. “Colonel Demood, you’re out of your element.” The craft’s forward movement came to a sudden stop, throwing everyone to the side before the telltale settling of the shuttle began, indicating it was about to land. A few seconds later, the back ramp began to drop, and the harnesses they were in automatically released.

“Move out! Squad one, secure our LZ! Squad two, on me!” Kaufman bellowed.

Kaufman was the first person out of the shuttle, but David and Calvin weren’t far behind. All told, there were twenty-five friendly combatants pouring out of that shuttle, and they did it like a well-oiled machine. Several rounds that appeared to be fired by enemy troops smacked the ground around David; none of the bullets connected. Quickly scanning the area, David saw row after row of barracks, surrounded by a wall with an electrically-charged fence on top. Guard towers had ringed the field, but they appeared to be smoking ruins now; the ones left intact were on fire. The nuns fanned out in a manner reminiscent of the best trained CDF Marines David had ever seen; the few Monrovian troops out in the open were quickly cut down by the sisters’ battle rifles firing stun rounds.

As David began to get his bearings and decide on which building to toss a grenade into and storm first, a single, higher caliber shot rang out with a loud report. One of the nuns a few feet from David fell to the ground in a heap; a spurt of bright red from the center of her chest showed that she’d been shot with armor-piercing ammunition. A few seconds later, another nun fell in the same manner.

“Sniper! Smoke! Smoke!” Kaufman shouted, pulling out a grenade off her armored suit and tossing it; it hit the ground and spun, and red smoke spewed out of it.

David hurled a smoke grenade, alongside the other nuns. Within seconds, red clouds obstructed the entire battlefield.

“Any idea where that came from, Demood?” Kaufman said over her commlink.

“Yeah, Sister. My HUD got a location on the shooter. If you keep them occupied with suppressive fire, Cohen and I will circle around and flank them.”

“Might be nice if you asked your superior officer before telling everyone what we will be doing, Cal,” David groused, using Calvin’s nickname to ensure it came across as a joke.

“All joking aside, I want to put a round into the head of a man who’s willing to shoot women from cover,” Calvin replied, his voice testy.

A mark appeared on the HUD inside of David’s helmet, showing the general location of the hidden shooter. “That’s a bit of selective outrage, don’t you think? We use snipers to great effect too. Or is it that they’re all women?” David asked as they moved forward through the smoke toward the building indicated.

“Hey, I’m old school. Never set right with me to see women get killed.”

David thudded to a stop, peering quickly around a corner to see the building in range. “Me either. One of the realities of war, though.”

“Well, look who’s all grown up and sounding like a soldier,” Calvin said sarcastically.

“Coast clear… You got a drone on you? We can use the infrared mode to sniff him out.”

“Why’s it got to be a him? Could be another woman.” Calvin pulled a tiny box off his belt that contained a miniature drone that was the size of a fly. He opened up the case, and the drone instantly synched up with his armor suit, providing telemetry data and a visual feed. Using a small handheld control, he expertly maneuvered the drone and began to scan the windows for the sniper.

David looked down the scope of his battle rifle, manually scanning each window for any apparent signs like an open shade, but the going was slow.

“Gotcha, jerk,” Calvin muttered. “Third window from the left, top floor.”

David shifted his aim up and quickly found the indicated window. “Got a target. Tango with long rifle perched in the window. That’s our sniper.”

There were sounds of a magazine being ejected from Calvin’s battle rifle, which caused David to glance over. “Changing bullet types?”

“Yeah. AP rounds make a nice hole in the helmet armor.”

“Doesn’t exactly line up with non-lethal means.”

“I’m not wasting a perfectly good shot on some BS non-lethal bullet. This guy is going down hard.”

David shrugged; he didn’t care enough to argue. In truth, the Monrovian deserved whatever was coming his way. “No movement on the target.”

“This one’s mine, Colonel,” Calvin said, dropping to a prone position and taking aim. “Adios, mother…” He didn’t finish the curse and squeezed the trigger.

David watched the soldier jerk through his scope as the bullet hit him in the direct center of his head.

“Nice shot. Since when don’t you cuss like a proverbial sailor?”

“Since we’re around a bunch of nuns. Seems…wrong somehow.”

David snickered quietly. “So that’s what I need to do to clean up your act…put a nun in the wardroom.”

“I’d get over it eventually,”

David keyed his comm to Kaufman’s channel. “Sister Kaufman, the enemy sniper has been neutralized.”

“Thank you, Colonel,” Kaufman said.

As the two men covered the front of the building, the rest of the nuns came running through the smoke. David watched as they leapfrogged from cover to cover and fired into most of the windows and openings, though there were no visible targets. He realized this would serve to suppress the enemy force, and there was little danger of long-term harm to civilians thanks to the use of stun rounds. Perhaps they’re onto something with this non-lethal force bit.

Kaufman trotted up to the dumpster that David and Calvin had taken up position behind. “Thank you, gentlemen. I do detest snipers.”

“Any time, Sister,” Calvin said in his self-assured Marine voice.

“Orders?” David asked.

“We’re going to press forward to pin down the remaining guards in their barracks and ask them to surrender.”

“How about we just call in an airstrike on them and go home?” Calvin asked.

Kaufman ended up rolling her eyes. “Stubborn as an ox, Colonel.”

David laughed. “Just tell us where to be.”

“I’d like you two to provide security for the medics that are coming up behind us now; get into each of these bunkhouses and help as many people as we can.”

“With respect, Sister, I’m a lot better at shooting things than administering first aid and passing out food,” Calvin retorted with his trademark grin.

“Demood… I don’t want you to forget what kind of ammo you’re using again accidentally. Best way to do that is to handle the rest of this op our way and have you take care of rear security,” Kaufman responded in a direct tone of voice that belied her annoyance.

“Are you kidding me?” Calvin said, his face turning red. “That guy was picking you off one by one. TCMC would have simply leveled the building. That’s how you treat hostile forces.”

David put his hand on Calvin’s shoulder. “Hey, it’s their op. We do it their way. Those were the terms we agreed to. Regardless if you or I agree, the sisters place a great deal of importance on the sanctity of human life. Now let’s provide overwatch as she asked.”

Calvin came to attention. “Yes, sir.”

“Thank you, Colonel Cohen. And, Demood… thanks for tagging that sniper. This is a hard row to hoe sometimes, especially when I see my friends get wounded or killed.”

Calvin nodded begrudgingly. “No problem.”

David took Calvin by the arm, and they walked off to meet up with the swarm of medics that were entering from a recently landed shuttle. As they did, David heard a sonic boom. A voice he didn’t recognize cut into the comm feed. “We have enemy aircraft closing on our position rapidly. Request assistance from any friendly air assets!”

To punctuate the warning, the ground rattled as an explosion rocked the camp, somewhere off to the right. While David didn’t see the actual strike, he saw the aftermath; a fireball and smoke curling up from it. It didn’t take either him or Calvin more than a second to reach the same conclusion; find cover as soon as possible. They took off at a run toward the nearest bunkhouse.

18

“This is David Cohen to any friendly air assets. We’re under attack by Monrovian bombers!”

Amir did a double take at hearing his friend’s voice. “This is Colonel Amir. Can you provide any further details?” He was in formation with five other fighters, having just successfully bombed an enemy airfield.

“We’re getting lit up by enemy air, Hassan! Are you anywhere in the vicinity?”

“They’re four minutes away from us, Colonel,” Arendse’s voice said through the commlink. “I’ve got a general distress call going out from the onsite sister militant. You got any air-to-air missiles left?”

“I have one LIDAR tracking missile remaining, as well as my neutron cannons,” Amir answered. “What about everyone else?”

“About the same. Several of us are Winchester except for the energy weapons.” Winchester was the code phrase for being out of munitions. “That’ll have to be enough. Christus Vincits, break to heading 165, stand by to engage hostile aircraft!”

Amir adjusted his heading as soon as Arendse spoke; he had planned to regardless of her orders. Leaving David and Calvin alone and without support isn’t happening on my watch. “Christus two acknowledged, steady on new heading 165.” The squadron had collectively decided to shorten their callsigns to Christus; the full name was simply too long for the chaos of combat. “Colonel Cohen, we’re on the way. Hold fast!” he said back to the channel David had broadcasted from; there was no reply.

“Colonel, I am thinking we fire our remaining missiles at long range, then push it up to max thrust and close in,” Arendse said on a private channel.

She’s getting confidence in tactics and her fighter; very good. “That’s exactly what I’d do, Sister,” Amir smiled inside of his flight helmet. “I believe we can scatter their formations, then pick them off one by one.”

“Sounds like a plan to me, Colonel,” Arendse replied, mirth in her voice.

“Let’s make our first volley count,” Amir said, watching the range decrease rapidly with the blob of Monrovian bombers. “I show missile range in thirty seconds!” Allah, please protect my friends and the sisters from the enemy. The wait as his fighter closed to missile range went by in an agonizingly slow manner. It seemed like an eternity had gone by before the familiar tone of LIDAR missile lock sounded on the nearest bomber. “Christus two, Fox three!” Amir yelled, pressing the missile launch button.

The missile dropped free from the underside of Amir’s fighter, its rocket engine kicking on and it roared away at Mach ten toward its hapless target. A few seconds later, the rest of the fighters fired the few air-to-air missiles they had left; five in total. He also saw two surface launches from what he assumed were air defense systems the sisters had onsite. The Monrovians attempted to deploy Chaff and spoof the incoming weapons with ECM, but as before, their technology was utterly ineffective. All five launched missiles connected with their targets; wings blew off aircraft, engines exploded, and five out of twenty-eight bombers were destroyed.

“Christuses, break and engage!” Arendse said as her shout filled the comm channel.

Amir quickly discovered that his fighter was a lot faster than the enemy bombers, and in turn had to slow down by nearly six hundred kilometers per hour. It’s hard to fly this slow without stalling out in a modern space fighter, even when it’s optimized for atmospheric flight. Sliding in behind one of the lumbering bombers, Amir said, “Christus two, guns, guns, guns!” into his mic, even as his finger pulled the trigger. Several direct hits later, another Monrovian craft exploded. He pushed the throttle forward, which increased his forward speed and pressed his body back into the specialized pilot's chair from the G-forces.

The next target was the nearest bomber; Amir turned into its path and met it head on, firing his neutron cannons. Once again, the Monrovian craft exploded in mid-air, its debris raining down on the ground below. Pausing to view an overlay of the battlefield in his HUD, Amir saw they were getting the best of the bombers; now there were only nine left. As he turned toward what he hoped would be his next kill, the missile alarm sounded. No less than forty enemy fighters suddenly appeared on his sensors. His mind thrashed, determining that the only thing that made sense was they had been flying so low to the ground as to evade detection.

“Bandits! Bandits, one o’clock high,” Arendse said from the commlink. “Forty-two bandits confirmed! Christus, abandon pursuit of the bombers, form up into finger four formations and engage the enemy.”

Amir pulled up hard on his flight stick, fighting for altitude and vectoring himself toward Arendse’s fighter to provide her cover; two more friendly craft slid into position, and they roared off toward the enemy. Numerous enemy missile launches occurred, and Amir’s HUD went into overdrive, showing the plots. As before, they were almost all spoofed by the powerful ECM carried by the Phantoms, but the pilots they faced had to know that already.

“They’re heading straight into air combat maneuvering with us, Colonel,” Arendse said through the commlink on the private channel she kept open between the two of them.

“In other words, a dogfight, Sister,” Amir commented softly to himself. There was always a new buzzword or phrase, but pilots preferred the words from many hundreds of years ago. “If we only had missiles left, we could destroy them at decent ranges. Unfortunately, we need to engage them on their terms. If we don’t, they’ll be able to destroy our ground forces with impunity. I don’t care how bad their technology is, troops are sitting ducks against air assets. It’s been that way since the beginning of air combat.”

“We’ll take them, Colonel.”

“Good hunting, Sister,” Amir said, focusing on the incoming enemy, which now split into formations of three fighters each. Steeling himself, his finger stayed on the firing trigger for the neutron cannons as they made the first pass through the Monrovian formation. The speed at which the fighters were closing was so high that it made visual targeting nearly impossible. Amir opened fired as he ripped through the air in the hopes he’d hit something. The rest of the sisters did the same thing, and miraculously, they came out of it unscathed, with several hard kills to their credit.

Arendse’s fighter rolled to the right, tracking a group of three Monrovian craft, and Amir stayed close behind her. He found himself impressed by her natural flying ability; even with limited hours in the Phantom, she was dogfighting like an expert. While she lined up her shot, Amir lined up his, sliding in behind an enemy craft despite its best efforts to throw him off. “Christus two, guns, guns, guns!” Amir called while pulling down the firing trigger. His reward was with another kill.

“Christus one, splash one bandit!” Arendse said as she downed the fighter she was engaging.

The dogfight had degenerated into a tail chase that pilots referred to as a “furball.” Typically, not something CDF pilots had to deal with, as in space most kills occurred as a result of missile hits. This was a challenging battle space for Amir to navigate, especially in the atmosphere where he couldn’t flip his craft around using relative speed and fire on pursuers. Three Monrovians settled into his six, and as Amir was the fighter to the extreme left of the formation, he had no wingman. As his early warning system detected energy weapon fire, he began a series of maneuvers called “the scissors.” Slowing his speed by climbing, he caused the three enemies to overshoot him, and they immediately started a dive, gathering airspeed.

Lining up the shot as the nearest fighter crossed into his forward cone, Amir quickly obtained a hard lock and fired his neutron cannons. Blue fire lashed out from his fighter and reduced another enemy to debris. Thanks to a poor angle taken by the attackers, Amir was able to slide to his right and engage the second fighter, in the same manner, quickly destroying it as well.

The third, though, was made from slightly sterner stuff. Its pilot whipped around in a counter scissors move, and Amir matched him turn for turn. The superiority of the Phantom in thrust-to-weight ratio coupled with its advanced G-force protection for the pilot allowed him to perform incredibly tight turns that would cause a pilot to black out in a less capable craft.

It took five interlocking scissors maneuvers, but he finally lined up the opposing fighter and held the trigger down, sending blue bolts of neutron cannon fire into the fuselage of the Monrovian fighter, which exploded in midair.

Straightening out after the tight-turning fight, Amir realized a split second too late that he had lost situational awareness when incoming fire from a fourth enemy fighter impacted his right wing. The master alarm sounded, and his controls became sluggish. As the enemy craft lined up for the kill, it suddenly exploded.

“Watch your six out here, Colonel,” Arendse said as she flew above the debris cloud. “Not bad shooting, though.”

A sigh left Amir as he contemplated that just a few seconds before, he was inevitably going to die. “Allu Akbar, Sister!”

“That he is, Colonel. Can you still fly?”

“It will take a few minutes for the auto-repair systems of the Phantom to repair my avionics, but yes, I’m still flight and combat capable.”

“Form on me, then. The rest of the bandits appear to be disengaging; we’re going to provide combat air patrol while our ground forces finish mop-up operations.”

“Roger that, Sister,” Amir said, gently nudging his fighter along and not overtaxing the damaged wing. Taking a moment to review the common tactical picture in his HUD, he noted with satisfaction that they had downed three-quarters of the enemy fighters. He hoped that David and Cavin were having similar success far below them on the ground.

* * *

David surveyed the mostly smoking ruins of the concentration camp they had just liberated. Fires still burned in several buildings, and a sea of former prisoners were lined up in the main yard being attended to by nuns with medical training. Calvin walked up to him, the visor on his helmet flipped up. “Colonel, you okay?”

David nodded, making eye contact. “Yes, a bit rattled, but okay.”

“You fleet guys don’t get down to the ground enough,” Calvin observed.

“Something like that.”

“There’s something you need to see,” Calvin said gruffly.

“Lead the way.”

With Calvin out in front, the two of them made their way across the camp, walking through destroyed buildings. Propaganda posters were hung everywhere, promising a better life if the inhabitants accepted science and reason. “These guys lay it on thick, don’t they?” David said as he climbed over some rubble.

“Heh, yeah. That’s one way of putting it.”

It took fifteen minutes to reach their destination: a field outside of the camp that held a giant burn pit. Just beyond that area, David could see earth-moving equipment lined up. As he made his way around the bulldozers and backhoes, he discovered a large trench dug in the firm red clay. The stench hit him first, causing nausea and retching inside of him that threatened to make him vomit on the spot. As he peered down into the trench, the cause of the smell was clear; hundreds of bodies littered the ground where they had been tossed… women, children, men, young and old. All shapes, sizes, and colors were represented.

David stood speechless, tears running down his face at the sight.

“Yeah… me too, Colonel,” Calvin said. “I couldn’t believe it at first. I’ve seen so many things, but this is worse than even the League gulags I’ve been a part of liberating.”

David’s mind was full of anger. Someone has to pay. “Where’s the commanding officer of this camp?”

“The sisters have the prisoners rounded up in one of the bunkhouses.”

“Show me.”

Nothing else was said as the two men trudged once again across the camp. David was lost in a private thought process that shifted from sheer rage to despair that he hadn’t known sooner, blaming himself for not being able to help. Arriving at one of the intact bunkhouses, he noticed it had several armed guards stationed at both entrances.

Calvin opened the door.

David walked in first. “Who is the commanding officer of this camp?” he shouted to the room at large.

Every Monrovian soldier in the building stopped what they were doing and looked toward him. A thin, pale man stepped forward, wearing the uniform of the Monrovian National Guard. “I am.”

David’s face was blood red as he stared at the camp commander. “There are thousands of innocent people dead in a ditch outside of this camp. How could you possibly justify doing that to unarmed civilians!”

“I was… following orders.”

“Just following orders…that phrase has been used to explain some of the worst atrocities ever committed by human beings! You wear the uniforms of soldiers, but the soldiers I know don’t murder innocents!” David shouted at the top of his lungs.

“It was voted on. It was the rule of the people. Who are we to say otherwise?”

“You say otherwise because it’s wrong! You call yourself a soldier; you make me sick. Real soldiers defend the weak, protect the innocent; they give their lives so that others might live!” David completely lost control and pulled his sidearm from its place in the holster on his right leg. Pressing it up against the forehead of the commander, he continued. “Give me one reason…one single, solitary reason why I shouldn’t kill you right now!”

“We would’ve all been killed if we didn’t obey. Anyone who resisted was put in prison along with their families!”

“So you had to protect your hides by massacring civilians? You make me sick. I’d gladly take a bullet than become you!”

Calvin reached forward and grabbed David’s arm. “You don’t want to do this, sir. You’re not thinking straight. Come on, put that gun down. This piece of trash will get his.”

David glanced at Calvin for a moment. “When? From whom? When we pull out, you really think there’ll be any accounting for what they’ve done?”

“God will judge him, Colonel Cohen,” Kaufman said, loud and clear in a harsh tone. “Not you or I. Put that gun down before I’m forced to stun you.”

“He shouldn’t be allowed to live after what he’s done. None of them should.”

“That isn’t up to us to decide.”

“Then who is it up to, Sister? God? Last time I checked, God doesn’t appear in a pillar of fire anymore. We’re the methods of implementing His laws.”

“Judge not that you may not be judged. However, you judge another, so shall you be judged,” Kaufman responded.

“That particular phrase isn’t in the Torah, Sister,” David spat back.

Kaufman appeared at David’s side and put her hand on his arm. “How about this… if you can stand here and tell me honestly that you’ve never harmed an innocent, that through inaction, or a mistake, or how did we use to refer to it, oh yes… the fog of war, never taken an action that led to the death of innocent lives, pull the trigger now with my blessing.”

David glanced at her and closed his eyes for a moment, considering what she said. God only knows how many innocents I’ve killed, directly or indirectly in the last eighteen years. Kaufman’s right; it’s not my place to take his life and shooting an unarmed man—no matter what he’s done—is murder. He allowed his hand to drop, and Calvin quickly took the sidearm. “I’m sorry,” he said, stumbling backward. “They can’t get away with it. There’s tens of thousands of people buried out there. They have to pay.” Tears rolled down his face.

“They’ll pay, Colonel,” Kaufman said with conviction. “Either in this life or afterward when God will judge them. Colonel Demood?”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Please escort Colonel Cohen back to the shuttles. We won’t speak of this again.”

Calvin nodded and nudged David gently toward the door.

As David was walking out, Calvin turned around. “Listen up. Colonel Cohen’s not the kind of guy that can shoot a disarmed man in cold blood. Me, on the other hand, I’m a different type of guy. Any of you step out of line, try to resist, escape, or evade, and I promise you I’ll put you down like the rabid dogs you are. And I won’t lose a minute of sleep over it. Have a real nice day now.” He turned around and left, leaving Kaufman staring with her mouth open.

19

Hours later, after the sisters had finished evacuating the liberated camp, Sarno walked into her command tent. Sister Kaufman and some of the other nuns were present, along with General Monahan, David, Calvin, and Tural. The same paper map remained; Sarno preferred simple solutions over advanced technology whenever possible. They merely broke down less often. Fixing a fancy tactical display takes money we don’t have. If the map tears, I can print another, she thought.

“Sisters, gentlemen… thank you for coming. I know we’re all weary after today.”

Her statement was met by silence as everyone stared at her. “I felt this situation would be challenging when we took on the mission. I expected there to be losses, and I expected to find things that would cause the soul to wrench itself. What you found today is horrifying, and it’s horrifying that as enlightened as we humans claim to be, such a tragedy could occur. It is yet another example that without God, we have no such enlightenment.”

“Once you reduce someone to a sub-human level, it’s not wrong anymore,” Monahan added. “The Monrovian government is run by a butcher. It’s time we take it out.”

“The order is not here to affect regime change, General,” Sarno replied. How do I get him to accept we’re not going to take out the government?

“What’s the point of our involvement here, then?”

“The point is to evacuate all who wish to leave, General. You may assist with that or not.”

“If the objective is to save those who are being exterminated, the best way to do that is to attack the government directly,” Monahan insisted.

“General,” David cut in. “I think we all get your position. Heck, if I were running this op, I’d probably level Fitzroy’s house and call it a night. But I’m not, and neither are you. We agreed to play by Mother Superior’s rules.”

“Thank you, Colonel Cohen,” Sarno said. This youngster can learn… good. “We need to focus on the next camp. Sister Kaufman?”

Kaufman stepped forward and pointed to another camp outlined on the paper map. “This is the largest camp the Monrovians are running. It’s…”

“Not the Monrovians,” Monahan said, interrupting Kaufman. “Our corrupt government. Not all of us. Big difference.”

“Of course, General Monahan. This particular camp has at least five thousand detainees in it. While the Monrovian air force can’t compete on a plane-for-plane basis… they proved today they can put up some big numbers. My biggest concern is interdicting their air threat going forward.”

“Ideas?” Sarno asked the room at large.

Monahan cleared his throat. “I’ve got one.”

“As long as it doesn’t involve regime change, we’re all ears, General,” Sarno said archly.

“How about we hit a high-value target that’s in the middle of a major city? I know the National Guard’s rules of engagement. They won’t attempt air engagements over an urban center for fear of killing their civilians and undermining support for the war.”

David looked at Monahan as if he’d finally spoken something worth saying.

Sarno’s eyebrows shot up. That is quite an intriguing suggestion. “I take it you have such a target in mind?”

“That I do.” Monahan flashed a smug smile. “There’s a detention center I’m aware of situated inside of a federal police administrative building. Two days ago, it held the highest-level dissidents on the continent. If we succeed in busting them out, we send a direct message to the government that we can attack them anywhere, anytime, and succeed. We buoy the hope of our citizens and hopefully drive others to fight back. That will make our fight much easier.”

David nodded. “I see merit in this, Mother Superior.”

“As do I,” Kaufman said. “Do you have any information as to the opposing force, General?”

“A few dozen guards, nothing we can’t handle. The bigger problem is that they have a rapid reaction force that includes a paramilitary SWAT team on standby. Once they’re aware of us… five minutes till those guys arrive.”

“We’d have to use stealth as much as possible,” David mused. “Hassan, think you could pull ECM pods off the fighters and outfit them to a few shuttles? We’d need to make like holes in the sky.”

“Absolutely, Colonel,” Amir said. “It’d be quite an effective tactic.”

Sarno put her hands on the map, seemingly lost in thought, before glancing up. “Sister Kaufman, handpick three platoons for the assault. Our best sisters, and every advanced weapon we have at our disposal. Have another three on standby for a QRF.” QRF was the acronym for “quick reaction force.”

“Yes, Mother Superior.”

David raised his hand and Sarno gestured in his direction. “Yes, Colonel?”

“Permission to join the op?”

“I’m in too,” Calvin boomed from his spot in the back.

“Sister Kaufman?” Sarno asked.

“I’d be happy to have both of our CDF friends join us, as long as they remember the rules of engagement.”

“Then it’s settled. We attack tomorrow at 0700 hours local time. Any questions?” No one raised their hands or spoke. “Good. You’re all dismissed.”

Sarno watched as everyone filed out, some like General Monahan with a renewed sense of vigor; some weary and in need of rest. David stayed behind and waited patiently for all to leave. Once the tent’s flap closed for the last time, leaving them alone, Sarno spoke. “What’s on your mind, child?”

“I didn’t want to say this in front of General Monahan for fear of emboldening him further… but he’s got a point. Monrovia’s government is evil. They ought to be held accountable.”

“And you want to be the one to do that?”

“Someone has to,” David insisted. “Why not us?”

“Do you see any judges in my order? Lawyers?”

“I can’t say that I do, ma’am.”

“Then how could we possibly dish out justice? Even if we did, where would we put them?”

David set his jaw. “I seem to remember that the punishment for aggravated murder is death.”

“Ah, so now you just want to establish their guilt and shoot them?”

“Why not?”

“Is that much different from what they’re doing? Rounding people up without criminal proceedings, throwing them into prisons or killing them?”

David’s face turned blood red. “They deserve what they get. Killing them would be justice.”

Sarno walked closer to David and faced him directly. “Careful. One person deciding who lives and who dies… who does that sound like, David?”

David glanced away, tears forming in his eyes. “The League.”

“Yes. It’s not our place as individuals to play God. In time, the government of this world will be brought to account. I’m certain of that. Throughout my life, I have believed that what is good, what is just, what is right eventually wins out in the end. This situation is no different. But I must caution you when we lose the battle within, when we surrender to hate and anger… that is when the enemy has truly won. Guard yourself, Colonel Cohen. Don’t fall into that trap.”

“Yes, Mother Superior.”

“If you would excuse me, it’s time for me to pray.”

“Of course, ma’am,” David said, a tight expression on his face as he inclined his head slightly and walked out of the tent. Sarno stood there mutely for some time, pondering the events of the last twenty-four hours. How easy it is to give in to the impulse to hate, to judge, and to exact revenge. We must continuously secure our hearts against going down that dark road. Otherwise, we’ll become just like them.

* * *

David wandered around aimlessly after the evening briefing, happy with the fact that they were all making a difference. But we were too late to save many of them. He ended up sitting on a step and staring at the sunset, a pure joy after a horrific day.

“Mind if I join you?”

David whipped his head around, startled. Angie stood on the step above him. “I suppose not,” he replied.

Angie sat down on the step next to him. “I always marvel at how sunsets look different depending on the planet you’re on. They’re especially pretty in a binary star system. I’ve only seen one of those, though.”

“Are we on the record or off?”

“Off, unless there’s something you’d like to say?”

David shook his head. “I don’t have anything fit to print.”

“I’m still in shock, to be honest,” Angie said.

“Why?” David asked, peering at her.

“I’ve seen some pretty horrible things out here. The aftermath of battles, dead soldiers, dead civilians. Collapsed buildings and dozens of rescue workers trying to save those that were trapped. That hole with the bodies… it’s the most horrible and gut-wrenching thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“You know what’s worse?” David asked before answering his question. “That the people who did it are going to get away with it. We can’t try them for their crimes, and the government of this planet probably celebrates them as heroes!”

“I don’t understand how another human being could do this. I guess I can get the idea some people are broken and have mental issues, but we’re talking about the majority of people on a planet going along with this and being okay with it.”

“Look back to Earth’s history. Throughout it, people have sprung up who convinced others of some group being sub-human, and then blamed all of society’s problems on them. That happened to my people in the Holocaust. Six million Jews were killed in camps, not unlike the one we hit today. Why? Because they were Jews and some two-bit corporal in the German army got into power by whipping up the masses to believe that the people who were their neighbors, friends, and family were less than human. All they had to do to make Germany rise again was get rid of the Jews. That war cost a hundred million lives, all told.”

“Yeah, but that was five hundred years ago. We’ve grown; we’re enlightened now.”

David laughed out loud. “Seriously? Have you not noticed the war we’re in against the League? They do the same thing back on their planets. Oh, they’re probably better at forcing compliance through brainwashing, but they’ll still put a bullet in your head if you don’t comply.”

Angie glanced down. “But we’re not the League. This planet is made up of people that escaped the League in the second wave of the Exodus.”

“Any human is capable of horrible things.”

“Including you?”

“Including you, me, and everyone else.”

“Then why didn’t you kill the guy responsible for running the camp?” David looked at her sharply as she continued. “One of the nuns mentioned it. She said you had to be talked down from executing him.”

“I didn’t do it because it would be murder. Mitzvot four hundred eighty-two…do not commit murder.”

Angie’s face clouded over. “I don’t want to sound insensitive, David, but you kill people on a regular basis. It goes with the job.”

“You don’t think I know that?” David snapped. “There’s a difference between a justified killing in war and murder. The Torah is clear; if you kill someone in combat, especially in a defensive war, it’s not murder. Killing a surrendered combatant, no matter what his crimes, no matter what he’s done… that’s murder. It’s a line I can’t cross even if for a few minutes I wanted to.”

“Doesn’t it bother you that you almost did?”

“Sure. Does it bother me that I give an order to fire on a League ship, we get lucky and hit its warhead magazine, and the thing blows up without a single lifepod launch? Does it bother me that I have personally killed dozens of people on the ground, in space, with a weapon, and with the weapons of my ship? You’re damn right; it bothers me. Is that your big story from Monrovia, a decorated CDF officer threatens to kill a prisoner?” David spat at her, losing control of his emotions yet again.

Angie opened her mouth, then closed it, shocked. After a moment, she responded, “No. I wasn’t planning to lead with that. I’m not even planning to report it.”

“Oh really?” David asked sarcastically.

“David, I get it. When I saw that grave, I would have killed every last person that worked in that camp, that enabled it, that did it if I had the power. None of them dared to say no. But you know what really scares me? I’m not sure if I would have said no. I don’t know if I would have had the gumption to stand up for what I knew was right and take the consequences.” A tear slid down her face as she finished.

“I’m sorry,” David replied, chastised. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“It’s okay. We’re all under a lot of stress. I envy you at times for the support system you’ve got built-in with your faith.”

David tried to lighten the mood. “You’re welcome to join me for evening prayers.”

“I think I’ll pass, thanks.” Angie’s face creased with a small smile.

“I understand. Look, we’re doing good here. I believe that with all my heart. Mother Superior and her order…they’re the real deal. They will save a lot of lives that would have been lost. That’s worth it, even if the perpetrators of these crimes aren’t brought to justice now.”

Angie stood and stretched. “I hope you’re right. Because it feels like we ought to be doing more.”

“We can always stand to do more.”

“See you later, David.”

“Take care of yourself.”

Angie smiled as she turned and walked off into the maze of buildings in the base, leaving David to ponder his actions, inactions, and what lay ahead.

* * *

A few hours later, almost everyone else was asleep except the nighttime sentries, the few medical personnel watching over the most seriously wounded, and the stragglers that couldn’t sleep. David had walked around and looked in on the nuns doing various tasks, from refilling magazines of their battle rifles, to the nightly mass they celebrated to ask for God’s blessing and to repent their sins. Ending up back at his quarters, which the sisters had graciously provided him with a full room to himself in what had been the bachelors' officers’ quarters on the base, he sat down on the bed. He then fished his tablet out of the space bag at the end of the bed and unlocked it using a combination of his fingerprint and retinal scan.

This lack of intelligence was going to keep biting them in the rear, just like Mother Superior said. It was a small miracle from on high that they didn’t lose half their air cover today. Let’s see if I can call in a favor and even up those odds just a hair. He punched up the fleet vidlink, engaging a secure connection and typing in “Robert Sinclair.” As he’d hoped, it showed Sinclair as active.

David pressed the button to connect.

He kicked off his shoes as he waited for the connection to establish and was rewarded a short time later with the smiling face of Colonel Sinclair.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the man on extended leave himself.”

“Is that fleet-wide news?”

“Colonel… I’m in intelligence.”

“I always thought CDF Intelligence was an oxymoron,” David said with a smirk.

“Hah. We’ve got brilliant computers.”

David snickered in response. “Superior information…superior results. I seem to recall reading that somewhere.”

“Sounds about right. How’s it going on Monrovia? I saw a news report about mass graves.”

“Pretty bad. We liberated a camp today, but we were too late to save them all. Based on ground-penetrating scans of the area, they're at least fifteen thousand people buried at that camp. Maybe more.”

Sinclair pursed his lips together. “Damn. You know if we ever get to League space and investigate the resocialization camps there, it’s probably a lot worse.”

“That thought crossed my mind. But I came face to face with the reality of what mass murder looks like today. It’s not pretty.”

“I’m guessing you have an ask since comm credits are pretty steep, and you’re using those nuns’ dime from the looks of the call request I got.”

“Well… the sisters have great training, pretty decent equipment, and no lack of good leadership and esprit de corps. They lack in broad-spectrum intel gathering ability. There’s little in the way of common operating picture, and we got caught with our pants down today. Monrovians sortied in bombers, then tried to mousetrap our small fighter wing. They didn’t succeed, but some of the planes were damaged, and the pilots are rattled. We need some stealth drones that can be interfaced into the battle operations manager they’re using. Almost all their gear is CDF, so I figure that won’t be too difficult.”

“Is this a joke?” Sinclair asked, his mouth agape.

“No. No joke, Colonel.”

“Cohen… I want to help you, mate,” Sinclair said in his baritone English accent. “But you’re asking me to commit an offense that could easily end in a court-martial for me.”

“I already committed one by going AWOL,” David said, invoking the acronym for absent without leave. “I get it’s a huge ask. But put all the blame on me… say I ordered you to put a couple of drones around the planet for intelligence-gathering purposes. You haven’t received official notification I’m on leave, have you?”

“Well, no. But it’s well known inside the intel community on the Oxford.”

Sensing Sinclair’s continued hesitation, David pressed on. “Look, those drones will help us even up the odds. We’ll know when hostile air is inbound and be able to vector our guys into the right place to make a difference. Operations tempo is stepping up, and I want to limit casualties among friendly forces to as little as humanly possible.”

“I suppose I could say that you redirected the drones after they got on station with your command codes if it ever came down to it.”

David smiled. “Do remember our embedded reporter is going to make it very difficult to say anything bad about this op. If nothing else, public opinion will be squarely in our favor.”

“JAG could care less about public opinion, Colonel,” Sinclair said, his voice tight. “I’ll help you, but not because of anything except this… I’m sure it’s the right thing to do. I’d rather do what I know is right than live with knowing I could’ve made a difference for the rest of my life.”

“Thank you, Sinclair,” David inwardly breathed a sigh of relief.

“You give those bastards hell, you hear me, Cohen?”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way. These guys don’t have a chance. They’ve got seventy-five hundred nuns coming for them.”

Sinclair laughed out loud. “I wish I could be there to see that. I’ll burst transmit the drone’s location and control frequency along with standard authorization instructions. Godspeed.”

“We’ll make it count. Godspeed, Colonel. Cohen out.”

David set the tablet aside as the screen blinked out. God, please let it be enough. Please help us all. Stripping off his shirt, he was determined to sleep as well as he could to get up refreshed and attack another day.

20

David rose a few hours after he had gone to bed, waking up as the sun came up. His internal clock was messed up, being set to CMT, which was the timekeeping system on all CDF ships. Adjusting to a planet’s time was always tricky, especially after so much of his life was spent on starships. He worked through his morning ritual, did a three-mile jog around the base, had a quick breakfast of prepared rations that were kosher, and took a short, two-minute space shower, even though he was firmly on the ground.

After pausing to conduct his morning prayers in private, David reported to the assault shuttle assigned to him for the next phase of their attack plans. As he walked into the back of it, battle rifle slung over his shoulder, Calvin called out to him, “Be still my beating heart! The great Colonel Cohen got here after I did!”

David chuckled, as did most of the nuns. “Colonel Demood, that may be the first time that’s ever happened.”

“Do you guys need a room?” Kaufman said from the cockpit of the shuttle to sustained laughter from everyone else, including Calvin and David.

“No, ma’am, just some targets to shoot.”

Still snickering to himself, David locked his battle rifle into a holder and strapped himself into the last open seat on the shuttle. With his armor, extra magazines, sidearm, and extra gear, it was a tight fit. Glancing to the right at the occupied harness next to him, he took note of a young woman who appeared to be sweating profusely.

“First time?” David asked, flashing a smile.

She glanced at him. “Yes. I’ve done training insertions many times, but this is my first actual combat drop.”

David extended his hand toward her. “Colonel David Cohen, Coalition Defense Force.”

“Novice Simone Darzi,” she said, taking David’s hand and shaking it with a firmness that surprised him.

“Darzi… that’s Persian, isn’t it?” David asked.

“Yes, it is,” Simone replied, forcing a small smile. “My family traces back hundreds of years, all the way back to a country called Iran back on Earth.”

“I seem to recall that from school, but that was so long ago.” David suddenly felt old. “Not too many Christians hail from Persia.”

“There’s less than a hundred thousand Catholics in the Kingdom of Persia, mostly on the habitable moon orbiting our primary planet.”

“How’d you end up in the Little Sisters of Divine Recompense?” David asked. The varied stories of the nuns had begun to really interest him. Each had a different reason, and all seemed to be entirely personal.

“After I finished my stint in the CDF, I was looking for direction in life.” Simone shrugged her shoulders. “I read a story on the holonet about the sisters. I knew as soon as I read it, that’s what God wanted me to do with my life. Two years later… here I am. What about you?”

David tried to formulate an answer in his mind as the rear door to the shuttle closed. “During my hitch in the CDF, I had some trouble with direction too. I thought I wanted to be a rabbi. Instead, I ended up being a soldier. It’s apparently what’s in my blood. My father was a soldier, his father before him. I’m not doing God’s work in the way I had intended, but maybe I’m still doing it some way.”

“I have a hard time believing that God’s work involves fighting and killing.”

“You’re not alone in that, Sister. But what can we do? The League’s not going away. We fight or we die. Maybe we die even if we fight. I’d still rather go out on my feet.”

“All right, listen up!” Kaufman cut in with a loud voice, silencing all chit-chat in the shuttle. “We’re eight mikes out from the LZ. We have three other platoons supporting us for a fast-rope insertion to the top of this so-called high-value target area. Our objective is simple; clear the LZ, sweep the building, rescue the people being detained, disrupt Monrovian operations, and get out clean. Use of lethal force is not authorized unless there is no other choice for survival. Are we clear on that, Colonels?” Kaufman’s gaze flipped between David and Calvin as she made her last point.

David’s voice was loud and clear. “Yes, ma’am!”

“Crystal, ma’am,” Calvin said, decidedly less enthusiastically.

“Good. Ladies and gentlemen, watch yourselves down there. We’re going into the teeth of the Monrovian special police. Watch each other’s backs, remember your training, and God will see us through,” Kaufman finished.

David sat back in his harness and closed his eyes, praying silently. Lord, God of the universe, hear my prayer. If it is Your will, protect the lives of those I go into battle with, and allow them to return safely home to their families, and if it is Your will, please help to rescue the innocent victims of this planet’s regime.

David opened his eyes and glanced around; nearly every nun’s head was bowed in prayer, most holding rosary beads. The final minutes before combat always seemed to stretch into eternity for him; there was a part of him that just wanted to get on with it already. A few minutes later, he got his wish when the shuttle began to slow dramatically.

Kaufman’s restraints snapped away from her, and she stood quickly. “Stand by for ramp open!”

Right on cue, the shuttle hovered, and the ramp opened up as their harnesses automatically disengaged. With smooth efficiency that showed professionalism and highly skilled training, the nuns stood, engaged their armor suits to the lines that dropped out of the ceiling of the shuttle, and tossed them out the back. Four at a time, they jumped out of the shuttle, sliding down the ropes onto the roof of the Monrovian government building. Kaufman was one of the first out while David, Calvin, and Simone were in the last group.

David slung his battle rifle over his shoulder and snapped a carbineer into the rope line. Stepping back off the shuttle, he used his gloved hands to control the rate of descent. While the activity wasn’t one he regularly did, he’d done it enough to be able to execute without showing fear or freezing up. Unstrapping himself from the shuttle’s rope line, he turned forward to see Calvin staring at him.

“Well I’ll be; you look like you’ve done that before, Colonel.”

David snickered. “Basic, a couple of times over the years, and right now.”

“Sometimes it’s better to be lucky than good anyway.”

“Amen to that, Cal.” David unslung his battle rifle and stepped forward. The rest of the nuns did the same; some set up what looked like a man-portable air defense missile launcher, two more took an overwatch position, one with a sniper rifle, and the other served as a spotter for her.

“Cohen, take Squad B. Your objective is the first floor; prevent reinforcements from gaining entrance. Demood, you’re with me and Squad A,” Kaufman said on the comm link that connected the platoon. “Maintain stealth as long as possible. We’ve been able to loop the video surveillance system, but I don’t know how long it’ll last.”

“Understood, Sister. Squad, on me.” Five nuns, which included Simone, formed behind David. They walked up to the door that led from the roof into the interior of the building, and he fitted a strip of thermite to it. He stepped back and triggered the device. It burned through the door in a matter of seconds, and the sisters with him lifted the door out of the way and quietly set it down on the roof.

David took point, switching on the laser sight on his battle rifle. After two floors, Kaufman’s squad peeled off and he flashed her a thumbs-up. Continuing down the stairwell, they quietly descended to the ground level. Thanking God that most office workers were too lazy to take the stairs, he opened the door to the ground floor, and the rest of the nuns quickly filed through it. Stepping out into the corridor, a trio of civilians greeted them.

They screamed at the sight of David and the rest of the squad, before running away in the opposite direction.

“So much for stealth,” David said dryly into the comm. “Sister Kaufman, be advised we have encountered civilians, and our position is compromised. Going loud!” He stepped forward and motioned for the nuns to form on him. “Press forward. We take the lobby at all costs.”

Not more than twelve steps down the corridor and a security guard appeared. David put a three-round burst of stun rounds into him immediately, and the man collapsed into a heap. Pausing long enough to grab the man’s sidearm, he quickened his steps, and they quickly reached the end of the corridor; a sign indicated that the building entrance was to the right.

David dropped his battle rifle in its sling and pulled a small handheld periscope for seeing around corners out of his pocket; he peered through the device to see four armed guards milling about, clearly agitated, with another on an active commlink. Stuffing it back into his pocket, he turned around to the nuns.

“Okay, we’ve got five hostiles. I’m going to toss a concussion grenade in, then we storm the room. Keep your shots tight and watch your flanks. Clear?” David said in a near whisper. Receiving nods in acknowledgment, he pulled a concussion grenade off his belt, pulled the pin, and threw it down the corridor.

Three seconds later, there was a deafening boom and a flash of white light from the lobby. David and the rest of the nuns charged around the corner, firing as they ran. Guards dropped right and left, stunned and twitching on the floor in pain. He finished off the final guard with a three-round burst into his center mass; none of them were even able to draw a weapon. Surveying the lobby, which surprisingly had little battle damage, he nodded in satisfaction. “Very nice work. Now we’re in for a treat.”

“Treat, sir?” Simone asked.

“Yeah, now we get to hold the front door against whatever the enemy throws at us, which will be every police officer, soldier, and government agent in the city. Take up defensive positions. Overlapping fields of fire. I’ll set the claymores.”

“Yes, sir!” one of the nuns said, and the rest busied themselves setting up; several had bipods for their weapons and configured them for prone firing positions.

David set down the small backpack he was carrying; inside of it were some nifty explosive devices that the nuns had designed themselves. The most interesting to him was the modified claymore mines. For six hundred years, human militaries had made use of the claymore; its ability to defend an area from massed infantry attack was exceptional. The nuns, in keeping with their mission not to harm human life, had taken the tried and true area denial weapon and made a non-lethal version. Instead of sending what amounted to a giant shotgun blast of lead balls in a cone out in front of the mine, shredding every target in sight, this claymore instead sent stun rounds flying out. He doubted it would be quite as useful, but as long as the enemy wasn’t wearing power armor, it would even the odds.

David arranged the claymores in a zig-zag pattern, twelve of them in all, and linked them to his tablet in two sets of six. I’ll have to time it just right, but if I do, these things will bloody the Monrovians’ noses. Civilians watched him on the street with curiosity, and he could see some of them were placing holocalls and excitedly pointing. Time to wrap this up. He picked up the backpack and walked back inside of the building to find that the nuns had dug in about as well as he could have expected. “Sister, let’s get the automatic turrets set up.”

Simone dropped the pack she was wearing and pulled out two miniature pulse turrets. Again, the sisters’ ingenuity was on full display. They had taken standard-issue CDF particle beam auto-turrets and miniaturized them while reducing the power of the particle beam to a level that would leave a third-degree burn on its target but not kill. He understood that they had explicitly coded the targeting AI as to not fire on the human face. With David’s assistance, both turrets were set up in short order in spots he hoped were unobtrusive.

“Status?” Kaufman asked over the commlink.

“Buttoned up tight, Sister,” David said. “I’ve got interlocking claymores set. We’re dug in, and ready to receive visitors.”

“Okay, we’ve freed some of the detainees, but there’s a lot more. Resistance is a bit tougher than we expected, but the second and third platoon are assisting us in clearing the building. I need you to hold the line down there, Colonel.”

“We’ll give ‘em all they can handle and then some, Sister. Cohen out.”

David clicked the commlink off as the first wave of police helicars zoomed up to the front of the building. Officers climbed out quickly, all drawing sidearms and aiming down iron sights at the building. He doubted they could see anything, but training was training. “Come out with your hands up! We have this building surrounded!” a deep male voice boomed from a loudspeaker on one of the helicars.

“I think not,” David said to the room at large; several nuns chuckled in return. He looked over at Simone, who had assumed a braced shooting position behind the reception desk. “How are you holding up?”

Simone glanced at him and flashed a nervous smile. “So far, so good, but my heart’s racing.”

“If it’s not, you’re not alive.”

More and more helicars dropped down from the sky, coming to a rest on the street outside of the building; soon there were dozens of police officers facing them down. “I said come out! We will use lethal force and summarily execute anyone who resists!”

David noticed that one of the officers held a hand mic and decided he was the one who was using the loudspeaker to attempt communication. “I’m getting a bit tired of this dude.”

A dark grin crossed his face. I should open the door and shoot him. There was something about the non-lethal rounds that he couldn’t quite get over, almost like they weren’t real. Those thoughts were immediately cut off when gunfire erupted from the phalanx of cops; the windows shattered instantly, raining glass all over the lobby.

“Open fire!” David shouted, sighting down on an exposed officer and firing a single round; one shot, one stun, hah. Calvin’s got to be loving this.

The rest of the nuns took targeted shots, and the Monrovian officers dropped like flies. Over the next thirty seconds, anyone outside the building that wasn’t in good cover was stunned. Eventually, the gunfire stopped, and an eerie calm settled over the lobby. “Sister Kaufman, this is Cohen. We’ve repelled the first attempt at an assault. I expect the real opposition to arrive soon. Suggest we wrap this up as fast as we can.”

“We’re not leaving without the people we came for, Colonel. Hold the line.”

“Yes, ma’am,” David said, exasperation creeping into his voice. He clicked the commlink off and addressed the rest of his squad. “Okay, Sisters, that was a warm-up. We should see some professionals try their hand at rousting us shortly.”

Met with somewhat uneasy silence, David let his weapon drop into its sling for a moment, opened his helmet, and wiped the sweat off his face. Lowering it back into position, he took a swig of water from an in-suit straw and checked the action on his rifle to ensure it was seated correctly and ready to fire. Just as he predicted, the next wave of Monrovians was close at hand. Three vans hovered into view, and he sorely wished that Mother Superior had allowed him to carry rocket launchers; alas, that wasn’t on the list of approved weapons. Out of each helivan, a team of twelve men in combat armor —thankfully, not power armor— raced out with military precision.

As they ran, they opened up with suppressive fire on the lobby. Bullets flew everywhere, ricocheting off metal surfaces, and David felt more than one round smack his armored suit.

The nuns didn’t need an order to fire; they just opened up on anything that moved. Several of the assaulters fell, but unlike the police, these men knew their business. Employing leapfrog tactics, they steadily closed the distance and successfully pinned down most of David’s squad. Seems like a good time for those claymores. He tapped his tablet and triggered the command to fire the first set. Small explosions dotted across the lawn, and a dozen of the attackers fell, writhing on the ground in pain from the electrical shocks that rendered them unable to move outside of uncontrolled spasms. Still, the remaining members of the enemy team kept coming. David waited another couple of seconds and triggered the next group of claymores; another eight or nine—he wasn’t quite sure—collapsed in the grass. The remainder took cover behind the police helicars, and again, an eerie quiet descended.

“Sister Kaufman, now would be a perfect time to get the heck out of here!” David said into his commlink.

“Detainees are secured, Colonel. We’re coming down the stairs now, and I’ve called for evac. Hang tight.”

“Yes, ma’am,” David replied, fighting down his rushing adrenaline.

After what again seemed like an eternity, David heard the sounds of many feet coming down the corridor behind them. He poked his head around and was greatly relieved to see Kaufman, Calvin, dozens of nuns, and the rescued prisoners. “Status, Colonel Cohen?” Kaufman called out.

“Commando teams repulsed, but they hold the area outside of the building. I wouldn’t recommend taking civilians out there until we’ve cleared the area.”

“We’ve got a little surprise for our Monrovian friends,” Kaufman said with a wicked grin.

“Oh?”

“Watch and see. Shuttle one, you are clear to engage.”

Outside of the lobby, David saw the assault shuttle they arrived in vertically hover down into the street. I can’t believe she’d order its rockets used after the extreme care taken so far to avoid casualties. Suddenly, he felt pinpricks all over his body. The effect was like being shocked with low voltages of electricity, something that over the years had happened repeatedly, mainly when he was a bosun’s mate back on the Artemis. He watched in amazement as the cops, commandos, civilians, and anyone else on the street began to run away from the shuttle as fast as they could, the ones closest to it screaming their heads off. The shuttle moved down the road, sweeping people in front of it and clearing the path. More shuttles then dropped out of the sky and landed on the lawn.

“The sisters mounted our area denial weapons to their shuttles,” Calvin explained. “I’d have just lit the place up myself, but they insisted on doing it this way.”

David caught Kaufman rolling her eyes at Calvin, but in a way that belied amusement rather than annoyance to him. “Now we can leave. Any objections, gentlemen?”

“None here, Sister,” David said while glancing around the destroyed lobby. “Squad, on me. If you don’t object, I’ll take point, Sister Kaufman.”

“No objection, Colonel. Take us out.”

The nuns that made up David’s squad stood up with him and darted after him, taking cover behind the helicars that had dozens of dents in them from stun rounds impacting their sides. There was no enemy movement that David could see. “Clear!” he yelled into his commlink.

David looked back to see a crowd exiting from the lobby, covered by nuns in battle armor. Some of the freed prisoners were in such bad shape that sisters were carrying them on their backs. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement and swung his head back around. A helivan with the logo of a moving company floated down as he watched, coming to rest in front of a non-descript building two blocks away. What the heck… oh, snap! “Down! Down! Everyone down now!” he started shouting into the comm. Nuns flattened themselves into the turf, slinging the civilians down with them.

There was a blinding light, followed by the dull roar of an explosion; its concussive wave knocked David off his feet, and the only thing that saved him from temporary blindness was his helmet’s UV filters that snapped to ninety-nine percent visible spectrum reduction automatically.

Half stunned, he opened his eyes and saw almost everyone standing had been knocked down, and a cloud of dust was sweeping down the street toward them. “To the shuttles! Now! Move it!” Kaufman voice sounded over the commlink.

Pausing to pick up a civilian that couldn’t walk, David flung her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and raced to the nearest shuttle; he returned for another, though the dust made it difficult to see. With the help of his helmet’s infrared sensors, he found another fallen civilian and helped the man stand. By the time he got the man to a shuttle and strapped in, he realized that the nuns had finished the job and were loading themselves up.

David took a seat, strapped in his harness, and spent the trip home trying to figure out what just went wrong.

21

Inside of the command operations tent, Sarno paced. She had been briefed by the strike team leader, Sister Kaufman, during the flight back, and now she was waiting for her senior staff to assemble. Kaufman, David, Amir, and Calvin were the first ones through the flap of the tent. “Greetings, Sister, Colonels.”

“Thank you, Mother Superior.” Kaufman kneeled and reached her right hand up, the index finger pointing toward heaven; the traditional salute of the Sisters.

David and Calvin brought themselves to attention but did not salute.

“Simply put, what happened?”

“We were able to rescue eighty-nine prisoners. However, we were exfiltrating the area…”

David’s face flushed red with anger. “Someone set off a massive improvised explosive device and brought down half a city block.”

“It’s possible the Monrovians engaged in a false flag exercise to give themselves cover and to sway public opinion against us,” Calvin interjected.

“Those people know no bounds of depravity,” David said.

General Monahan’s face appeared through the tent entrance as he walked in. “I apologize for being late. I was reviewing reports on damage to the government’s military infrastructure.”

“Thank you for joining us, General,” Sarno replied. “We have a bit of a situation here. While thanks to your intelligence, we were able to rescue many high-value prisoners, there was an attack with an explosive-laden hover-van that, in the words of Colonel Cohen, leveled half a city block. I assume the Monrovian government was behind it.”

Monahan, for a brief moment, looked squeamish. “Actually, Mother Superior, that was my network.”

“What?” David demanded, his jaw dropping open.

Sarno’s eyes widened. What have they done? “Explain yourself, General.”

“The building that we hit was the headquarters of Monrovia’s internal security agency. It’s quite secret; you won’t find it on a map, and most citizens have no idea it’s even a government office complex. You cleared the streets for us, and one of my teams moved in. The driver sacrificed himself to ensure the success of the operation, and to prevent the use of remote communication jammers from being effective.”

“Let me get this straight,” David said, his voice rising. “You gave us intel to enable an attack on a detention facility two blocks from a target you turned around and hit with a suicide bomber? Do you realize how many civilians are probably dead?”

“Oh, stow your sanctimonious bullshit, Colonel. You expect me to believe you’ve never killed a civilian, that the CDF has never bombed a school or a hospital from orbit. It’s called collateral damage. It happens. You’ve got to break a few eggs to make an omelet.”

“Sounds like something a Leaguer would say,” Calvin interjected.

“Gentlemen, please. General Monahan, I’m incredibly distressed that you’ve chosen this course. I’m not sure that we can continue to stay here on Monrovia. I will not be a party to the death of innocents through the actions of my order. It’s an affront to all we cherish and the ideals we try to uphold.”

A nun stuck her head into the tent. “Mother Superior, there’s something on the holonet you should see.” At Sarno’s nod, she stepped inside and tuned the holoprojector. A few moments later, it projected the office of Prime Minster Fitzroy.

“Citizens of Monrovia,” Fitzroy said. “Aggressors from the Terran Coalition have invaded our world; this we already know. They’ve staged a campaign across our planet, killing the brave members of our military and first responders, including our heroic police officers. I know you have seen the images they broadcast from the supposed internment camps, showing starving women and children. This could hardly be further from the truth.”

The holoprojector switched projections, showing the attack on the building earlier in the day. “This is what’s happening out there. Religious terrorists, working with these so-called Little Sisters of Divine Recompense, used a suicide attack to destroy a government building filled with office workers today. Over eight hundred people are dead, hundreds more wounded. This is why we voted to suppress religion; its practice brings nothing but hate, repression, and when those who would force the rest of us to believe like them can’t get their way, they start killing people! We must stand up to these murderers…”

“Turn it off!” David barked; Sarno nodded, and the young nun switched the projector off. “You stupid…freaking idiot,” David shouted right in Monahan’s face, his face red as a beet. “We were winning! Not just the war, but the hearts and minds of the people. Now you’ve played right into Fitzroy’s hands. She doesn’t even have to lie or spin it; we just killed hundreds of people with a suicide attack!”

“Again, Colonel, oppressed minorities have used tactics such as this throughout human history. Need I point you back to what happened on Earth before the Exodus?”

“There was a time when people of different religions would kill each other in God’s name,” Amir interjected. “My people used these tactics on Earth. They are abhorrent and detested by Allah. I for one will not fly another mission with this man running the resistance movement.”

We can’t just leave the civilians here to their fate. We have to stay, and we have to figure out how to overcome this misstep. Jehovah Jireh… God will provide. “General, you can no longer be involved with our actions if you wish us to stay.”

“My people are everywhere; you can’t win without us. You need us, Mother Superior.”

“Yes, we do need them. But they now take orders from me, or we’re pulling out first thing in the morning. The choice is yours… choose wisely.”

Monahan made a face. “I will not be blackmailed by the likes of any of you.”

“Are you daft?” David said, his voice still loud. “You’re out. The only hope this action has for continued success is for you to step to the sideline. Give a public statement taking responsibility and absolving the sisters.”

Sarno studied Monahan’s face as it turned an even brighter color of red; he resembled a cornered animal. “I want amnesty for myself and anyone involved in the bombing.”

Ah, he wants a way out. Good. “We’ve no courts to try you, General. You and those involved will face no retribution from us. However, I can make no such promise if the government of Monrovia gets its hands on you. If you stand aside, you will be confined to quarters on this installation until the end of the war.” As she spoke, Sarno noticed that David’s face contorted and seemed to redden even further, if that was possible. The young colonel needs to work on controlling his emotions, she thought.

“I’m not a monster. Simply doing what it takes to win. I’ll agree to your terms, but only if you promise not to surrender my fellows and me to the government.”

“Mother Superior,” David interjected. “Part of this… deal has to be a public statement. I believe the war for the hearts and minds is even more important than the actual armed conflict.”

“I concur, Colonel. Well, General Monahan, what do you say?”

“I’ll go along,” Monahan grated out, clearly upset. “But I don’t think we did anything wrong.”

“Mother Superior, with your permission, I’d like to go find Ms. Dinman and brief her before this gets out of hand further.”

“Granted, Colonel Cohen. The rest of you are dismissed. Sister Kaufman, please place the general under close escort.”

“Yes, Mother Superior,” Kaufman replied respectfully.

Everyone filed out, leaving Sarno alone in the command tent, staring at a large map of the planet’s surface. We’ve done much, but there’s so much left to do here, she thought. Deciding to take some time to pray and consult God, she walked out of the tent, her robes swishing behind her.

* * *

“Angie?” David called out as he walked into what he and Calvin had nicknamed “the Comm Shack,” another tent the sisters had set up with a wide array of high-tech communications gear. He paid attention to patterns, and Angie’s habit was to file a report every afternoon. Hopefully, this day won’t be different, and I get to her before she does.

“What do you want, Colonel?” Angie said.

David spotted her off to the side behind a terminal. “I wanted to discuss the situation with you.”

“Save it. I thought… I really thought that you were an honorable man.”

“What are you talking about?” David asked, perplexed at her anger.

“You set up a suicide bombing… I mean, are you stupid or something? You didn’t think the Monrovians would figure it out?”

“It wasn’t us,” David said, his voice tight, anger rising in him at being accused of such a heinous crime.

“Don’t take me for a fool, Colonel.”

“Angela…listen to me. General Monahan was behind the suicide bombing. Neither I, nor any CDF personnel, nor any of the nuns had advance warning. We were taken by surprise. That’s the truth, and I’d swear it on a Torah.”

“Then you’re an idiot for not realizing he was planning it.”

“Look, I never had a great feeling about the general, but I figured we could work with him. Call it the fog of war. That doesn’t change that this planet is engaged in horrific behavior, and we’ve still got a job to do here.”

“So the ends justify the means?” Angie asked pointedly.

“Never. General Monahan is currently under armed guard and has resigned as the leader of the Monrovian resistance movement. All members now report directly to Mother Superior Sarno.”

Angie looked down at her hands. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

“Since you arrived on my ship, have I lied to you?”

“You’ve refused to answer my questions on numerous occasions.”

David nodded his agreement. “Yes... but I did so directly, and I never lied. I’ve always tried to be honest with you. Even though quite frankly, I didn’t want you on my ship to begin with, I’ve grown to respect your abilities, and that you report the facts without calling balls and strikes.”

“Balls and strikes?” Angie asked with a confused look.

“Uh, it’s a sports metaphor.”

“Well, it’s lame.” Angie was still red-faced, arms crossed in front of her.

“I want to help these people. That’s why I’m here. The op we went on unfortunately enabled this horrific attack, but we didn’t kill a single person. The sisters are so adamant about saving lives that they re-engineered mines to stun people rather than kill or maim them for life. Incredibly inventive technology, I might add. They’d never do anything like what happened with the truck bomb. And if you don’t know by now that the CDF doesn’t do that…”

“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, and 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 was 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?”

“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, making 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 torched 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.

“I wouldn’t doubt it. We need to maintain forward momentum. In my discussions with the Mother Superior, I believe she wants to bring this to a tipping point where the Monrovian government collapses,” David replied.

“I worry about the casualties,” Tural said. “I’ve seen so many tortured, malnourished people rescued from the camps. I can’t imagine what they’ve been through.”

Amir shook his head. “The butchers that did this need to face the wrath of Allah. As his instrument, I am looking forward to bringing it to them.”

“Yeah, how is it that the fighter jockey is the only one that’s getting to kill the enemy here? I’m reduced to stunning people,” Calvin snorted.

“I’m beginning to think you have a problem,” David said dryly toward Calvin.

“It’s mostly in jest, sir.”

“The ‘mostly’ part is what worries me.”

Tural and Amir snickered. “I think she’s stepping up to the front,” Tural said, redirecting all of them.

David glanced forward, and indeed Sarno had taken the center of the formation; he was consistently impressed with her, that despite her age, she did everything she demanded of those under her command. She’s probably in better shape than I am, and I’m nearly twenty-five years younger. Hmmm, on second thought, that’s embarrassing. I should work out more.

“Sisters, and those friends who have joined us, thank you for coming this morning. The last twenty-four hours have been difficult. We’ve been tested in ways that we haven’t been tested in years,” Sarno began. It’s almost like she speaks directly to you. “Throughout the history of our order, we have strived to defend the weak, liberate the oppressed, and to honor God throughout our actions. Once the battle is won, we mend the brokenhearted, bind up their wounds, and try to heal their souls. We’ve made much progress in this fight, but the hardest portion of it is yet to come. Our enemy is entrenched, and time is against us. Today, we will attack three camps at the same time, and our air support will be stretched thin. But our God is a strong tower, and in Him we can trust. Watch out for and protect your sisters to your left and to your right. Trust in your leaders and your training. Together, and through God’s grace, we will come home today, and we will emerge victorious over this foe. Let us pray.”

David bowed his head while the nuns prayed, mostly in Latin. Instead, he prayed silently in Hebrew. Lord, God of the Universe, if it is Your will, please protect the lives of those who serve with me this day and return them safely to their families. Amen. He lifted his head to see the nuns coming to attention as one and saluting with the same index finger pointed to the sky he had observed them since joining the expedition.

“Now, to your assigned shuttles. We move out in thirty minutes,” Sarno said. Like a human wave, the nuns melted away.

“I’ll head back to the hospital. Allah willing, there will be few casualties today requiring my attention,” Tural said.

Kaufman walked up to the four of them. “Gentlemen, glad to see you’re all ready to go. Colonel Demood, you’re with me. Colonel Cohen, you’re on shuttle two.”

David flashed a smile. “Thank you, Sister.” He turned to leave. A sudden question popped into his mind. “If I may, what does the index finger pointing upwards signify? I assume it’s your unique form of a salute.”

“You assume correctly, Colonel,” Kaufman replied, all business as usual. “As for the salute, yes, it’s unique. It signifies that we worship and respect God, not each other. Then again, this order is pretty unique, wouldn’t you say?”

“Most unique military outfit I’ve ever seen; can’t even kill the enemy,” Calvin said.

“Do you want me to PT you around this field, Colonel Demood?”

Before Calvin could respond, David jumped in, a big grin on his face. “Get to your shuttle before the lady makes you do push-ups, Cal.”

Calvin tried to look pissed, but David wasn’t buying it. “Yes, sir.”

“I’ll see you all later,” David said, finally turning and walking off toward the shuttle landing area.

Sticking out like a sore thumb in the sea of nuns, he made his way off to the shuttle he’d been assigned to; hurrying up the ramp, he realized there was no one who he recognized onboard. “Is this shuttle two?” David asked, wanting to be sure he was on the right craft. It did have a large “2” on the side of it, after all.

One of the nuns looked up. “Yes, it is, brother,” she replied before looking back down at her rosary beads.

David sat down in one of several empty seats, locking in his harness like it was second nature after securing his battle rifle in its holder. There was no interaction or discussion between those in the shuttle; he had noticed on repeated sorties now that the nuns almost exclusively prayed the rosary on their way to and from combat. To his surprise, Simone, the novice that had joined his squad on the last combat mission, walked in.

“Colonel Cohen!” she said brightly. “We meet again.”

David smiled. “That we do. Assigned to shuttle two as well?”

Simone secured her battle rifle and strapped into the harness next to David. “That I am.”

“Another day, another concentration camp, eh?”

Simone raised an eyebrow. “That’s some pretty gallows humor there.”

“Hang out around Colonel Demood long enough, and it becomes infectious.”

“Sounds like you’ve served with him for a while.”

David smiled. “Only a few months. But he’s a good Marine, and I feel like I’ve known him far longer.”

“Commanding the Lion of Judah must be an incredible task.”

“It’s a rather humbling and sobering position. One of the most powerful warships in this part of the galaxy, and the act of getting it right, every single time, falls on me. No pressure, right?”

“Do you wish you didn’t have the job?”

David shook his head. “Never. God puts us where we need to be. Ergo, I’m where I need to be.”

The ramp on the shuttle began to close, and Simone pulled out her own set of rosary beads. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to pray before we drop into combat. It’s something we all do.”

“I do the same, Sister. I might do a little differently from you, but it’s the same idea.”

Simone smiled and closed her eyes, looking down. David glanced around the shuttle and focused his mind on his thoughts. How was the Lion doing? He didn’t doubt that Aibek could ably command her, but knowing that his crew was hundreds of lightyears away, fighting the League, didn’t sit well. Still, this is the right thing to be doing. We’re making a difference here.

25

Fifteen minutes into the flight was the first visible sign that something was wrong; the shuttle began to yaw back and forth, taking evasive maneuvers. The nuns looked up from their prayers and glanced at each other nervously. David cued his comm channel to reach the cockpit. “We’re getting shook up good back here, flight. What’s going on?”

“We’re under attack, Colonel Cohen. Please stay off this channel!” came a curt reply from the pilot of the craft he was on.

David glanced over to Simone, who much like the last time they had deployed, looked quite apprehensive. “First time being shot at in a shuttle?”

“Yeah… what about you?”

David thought back to his many years of experience in the CDF; being under enemy fire was something that had become second nature. “After nearly twenty years in the military, it’s old hat. Though I hate being in the back, unable to affect the battle.”

“Why?”

“Because if I were at the controls, at least I’d be able to affect the outcome in some way. Back here… I’m just a passenger. No matter what happens, I have no control over it.”

“That’s an interesting way of looking at it,” Simone said as the shuttle slammed to one side in a sharp turn. The harnesses shook, and everyone got tossed around a bit. “If we can’t control the outcome, just give it to God and quit worrying!”

An equipment bag broke free of its holder and slammed back into the bulkhead. “Yeah, that’s not working for me, Sister.”

Simone laughed nervously; David closed his eyes and tried to push away the fear which had invaded him. There was an explosion close by that severely rattled the shuttle and caused it for a moment to completely invert.

The pilot was able to right its flight path quickly, but David could tell from the sound of the engines that something was seriously wrong. “Oh, snap!”

“Brace! Brace! Brace! We’re going down!” the pilot stated calmly but forcefully through the intercom. Everyone in the shuttle quickly assumed a brace position, heads down. David found himself hoping that the reinforced harnesses would be enough to keep them from suffering too much injury.

“I’m scared,” Simone said. “I know I shouldn’t be, but I can’t help it.”

“Nothing wrong with being scared, Sister,” David managed to get out as G-forces began to impact them in the steep dive. Talking, even breathing became difficult, as his chest felt like an elephant was sitting on it. “If you’re not, there’s probably something wrong with you.”

Thinking he would end up regretting it, David pulled up the flight readouts on his helmet’s HUD. They confirmed his worst fear; the shuttle had lost thrust and was plummeting out of the sky. He watched the horizon level out as the pilot expertly tried to save the shuttle; in the end, she was able to achieve straight line flight but couldn’t reduce forward speed. As they were over an urban area, they were headed straight for a building. With no thrust or control, there was nothing else the pilot could do. David reached over and held Simone’s hand. “This is going to hurt.” He forced as much bravado into his voice as he could.

David’s brain registered the impact into the building’s face; the world around him spun and warped as the shuttle absorbed the damage. Its hull cracked open, flinging nuns in their drop harnesses out of the cargo area; a piece of debris slammed into his helmet, and he blacked out.

* * *

A few minutes before David’s shuttle crashed, Amir and three wingmen flew close escort. This is shaping up to be a milk run, he pondered, referencing an old term from long ago that had stuck with fighter jocks. It merely meant that it was going to be a simple flight. Thanks to the drone overflight providing LIDAR coverage of the planet, which David had plugged into the sisters’ command net, courtesy of his command authorization codes, they had nearly complete eyes in the sky. It was now impossible for the Monrovians to mousetrap them as they had two days before.

Since they were hitting three separate targets today, Amir had volunteered to take the lead on one escort flight, while Arendse and another one of her flight leaders took point on the other two. He felt like after several combats, the rest of the nuns had come to respect his piloting and combat capabilities, and they had all gelled as a team with the new equipment provided by the CDF.

“Reaper flight,” Amir said into the commlink. He had taken the liberty of assigning his own callsign to the group of four fighters. “This is Reaper One. Maintain close contact with our flock of shuttles.”

“Acknowledged, flight leader,” one of the nuns replied.

Amir was surprised when he detected a flight of twelve fighters appear on his screens at relatively short range. “Reaper flight, I’m reading twelve bogies at one o’clock. Can you confirm on your sensor sweep?”

“Confirmed, flight leader. I show twelve unidentified contacts bearing zero-two-zero, best range, one hundred and twenty-five kilometers.”

Running the flight characteristics through his onboard computer, Amir tried to match them up to known Monrovian types, but they moved faster and had more stealth capabilities than anything known to be in their arsenal. It suddenly dawned on him that this was something else when the missile launch alarm went off, and twelve LIDAR guided missiles were inbound.

“Reaper flight, break, break, break! Drop chaff! We’re being engaged by League fighters!” Amir commanded.

“Say again, flight leader?” the nun flying the fighter to his left asked.

“Obey my orders, Sister! Our lives depend on it!”

“Shuttle flight, this is Amir. Break off and head for base. We’re being engaged by modern League fighters. We’re outnumbered and will try to hold them off. Dive to achieve maximum speed!” Not waiting for a reply, Amir switched to the command channel so he could speak with Arendse directly. “Sister Arendse, this is Amir. We’ve been engaged by hostile forces that appear to be using modern League fighters. What’s your status?”

There was nothing but static on the line. Damnit, the infidels are using jammers on us. For now, I have to focus on getting us out of this mess. Amir noted with satisfaction the missiles that had targeted his craft had gone for the chaff decoys. Swinging his fighter around, he went for the nearest enemy in an attempt to even up the odds.

* * *

In the back of the shuttle Calvin was in, both he and the nuns were pressed up in their harnesses as the craft hurtled toward the ground, its pilot engaging a maximum speed dive to outrun the Monrovian fighters that the commlink was full of chatter about. He had heard the mayday call from David’s shuttle and grunted as he pushed the harness up against its design and disengaged the lock. The nuns stared at him as he stumbled across the floor and collided with the hatch that led to the cockpit; it took all of his strength to open it up and crawl into the cockpit.

“Ladies,” Calvin said. Kaufman stared down at him in shock.

“Colonel Demood, what do you think you're doing?”

“Help me up, would you?”

Kaufman reached down and grabbed his outstretched hand; a moment later, and he had climbed up into and settled into a jump seat. “I just wanted to make sure we’re headed in the right direction.”

“We can’t go back for the others without getting ourselves shot down and killed.”

“I’m not leaving David behind,” Calvin said, steely resolve creeping into his voice.

“Once we can regroup, we’ll use local resources to find them. We don’t have enough fighters to take on this new threat. As a seasoned officer, you ought to know that.”

“I’m not leaving my brother behind.”

“You think I want to leave my sisters behind?” Kaufman practically shouted back at him. “We go back now, all we accomplish is getting ourselves killed, shot down, or captured. We’re better off escaping to fight another day and come back for them when we can help. Now, shut up, Colonel, and let the pilot focus on keeping us alive.”

“Reaper leader to shuttle six,” called the familiar voice of Amir through an open commlink. “I got the bandit that was chasing you. Head for the barn; we’re covering you as best as we can. Our best chance now is to get within range of friendly anti-air defenses; that should give our attackers pause.”

Calvin cued his internet comm system to the channel that Amir and the other pilots were using. “Amir, this is Demood. What’s the odds of you guys clearing a path for us to get back to Colonel Cohen’s shuttle?”

There was a pregnant pause before Amir’s voice filled the link. “We would throw our lives away trying and not even harm the enemy, Colonel. I’m sorry.”

Calvin’s head sagged downward. Damnit, I can’t just leave him behind. “Okay, drop me out the back of the shuttle. I’ll take my chances on my own.”

Kaufman just shook her head. “We’re over three hundred kilometers away by now. You can’t help him right now, Colonel. Calm yourself. I promise you we’ll go back, and we’ll collectively find a way to rescue him and our sisters. We don’t leave our people behind. Nor do we needlessly throw lives away. I’m pretty sure if Colonel Cohen could talk to you right now, he’d order you to do the same.”

Yeah, she’s right. Cohen would put our lives above his every time. That’s why I’m willing to fight and die for his. “You better be right, Sister,” Calvin finally said, stewing in anger. The shuttle continued to hurtle back toward the military base they occupied.

26

David woke with a start to find Simone peering down at him. As he opened his eyes, he realized that they were no longer in the shuttle; it appeared she had dragged him free of the wreckage. Shaking his head slowly and trying to clear the daze from his mind, he looked around and saw her standing a few feet away. “Sister,” he said, his voice weak and raspy. “Are you okay?”

Simone turned around, holding a medical instrument, and walked back to him. “I was uninjured. Here, lie still. I need to check you for spinal cord damage before you move.” She ran the device over him several times at different angles. “Okay, no internal bleeding and your spine’s okay.”

“That’s good. I feel like that shuttle flew into me,” David said, trying to sound upbeat and force a smile onto his lips. “Where’s everyone else?”

Simone’s face and speech resembled a robot. “They didn’t make it. We’re the only survivors.”

Oh no. That’s twenty dead at least. She’s going into shock. “I’m sorry,” David said, somewhat lamely; there was little else to say. “Do you know where we’re at?”

Simone shook her head. “We’re in a city, though I’m not sure where exactly. The rest of the shuttles pulled back. I heard chatter on the comm that the Monrovians have deployed the latest generation League military hardware.”

“That tracks. We have been kicking their collective posteriors. Simone,” David said, trying to make a personal connection with her. “Look, I know what you’re going through right now. You’ve got to remember it’s not your fault. You did nothing wrong by surviving. We honor their memory by moving forward and finishing the fight so their sacrifice wasn’t made in vain.”

Tears fell down Simone’s face, and she dissolved into sobs; after a minute or so, she raised her head. “I’m sorry. I know we have to keep going, and I’m being weak.”

“Absolutely nothing wrong with showing emotions.”

“I’m a little surprised to hear that from an officer in the CDF.”

“I tried it the other way… didn’t work out so well,” David responded, forcing a smile. “Having emotions isn’t a weakness. While we’re on the subject, anyone who joins, picks up a weapon, and charges into combat to defend people she doesn’t even know just because it’s the right thing to do… that’s not weakness. That’s incredible strength of character that I’m honored to serve beside. You don’t even get paid to do it either.”

Simone showed just a hint of a smile, and David knew he had helped her, even if it was a small comfort.

“Would you like to pray with me, for the fallen?” David asked.

Simone nodded. “I’d like that, very much.”

“Why don’t you lead us? Unless you’d like me to recite the Jewish prayer for the dead.”

“Could we do both?”

“Of course.” David bowed his head. “God, filled with mercy, dwelling in the heavens heights, bring proper rest beneath the wings of Your Angels, amid the ranks of the holy and the pure, illuminating like the brilliance of the skies the souls of our beloved and our blameless who went to their eternal place of rest.”

Simone clutched her rosary beads. “O God, by whose mercy the souls of the faithful departed find rest, look kindly on your departed sisters who gave their lives in the service of what was right. Grant that through the passion, death, and resurrection of your Son they may share in the joy of Your heavenly kingdom and rejoice in You with Your saints forever. We ask this through Christ our Lord. Amen.” She glanced at him with a forced smile. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, Sister. Now, let’s see if I can walk,” David said, forcing himself up off the ground. Slowly, he rose, and his legs felt like they would collapse out from under him at first. But then he took a few steps and gained confidence. Nearly every bone and muscle in his body hurt; to counteract that, he used the HUD of his suit to administer pain relief medication of a non-narcotic nature to his bloodstream. It only took a few moments to feel better.

“Are you able to go on?” Simone asked him.

David nodded. “I’m like a good watch. Take a licking and keep on ticking,” David replied, continuing to make light of the situation in hopes of boosting her spirits. “If Prime Minister Fitzroy wants to put me out of commission, she’ll need to come down here and do it herself. Now, what did you get out of the shuttle?”

Simone pointed a few feet away to a collection of gear stacked haphazardly. “Two battle rifles, three hundred rounds each, fragmentation, plasma and concussion grenades, emergency transmitter, emergency rations, and water pouches.”

“Not bad, Sister. I assume you’ve already tried a distress signal?”

“Yes. Of course, we’re being jammed, but I’m pretty sure they know we’re down here. I heard Colonel Amir and Colonel Demood talking about coming to get you. They couldn’t hear me, though.”

“Demood doesn’t leave people behind, like any good Marine.”

“Neither do we. The sisters will come for us; we have to let them know where we are.”

“That’s the spirit,” David said in encouragement. “Okay, let’s gear up and move out.” He picked up a battle rifle, slung it over his shoulder, and strapped up with ammunition, grenades, and supplies. Simone did the same, and a few minutes later, they were both ready.

Consulting an emergency GPS device that linked into the CDF stealth drones orbiting the planet, David determined the best direction to get out of the city. “We’ll proceed east until we’re out of the urban area and see if we can’t get a comms signal up.”

Simone nodded her understanding, and the two of them set out.

Quietly moving up streets that were quiet and eerily deserted, David took point, his battle rifle up and at the ready, finger on the trigger guard. His HUD flashed a warning that human life signs were detected ahead, and he gave the hand motion for “stop” before ducking behind a parked helicar.

Simone crouched behind the same vehicle and peered over the top of the hood. “Trouble?” she asked.

“Maybe. Can’t be too sure.”

A few minutes later, a patrol of six Monrovian National Guard soldiers walked out from a cross street, slowly making their way across the road David and Simone were on. Both of them were quiet as church mice as the enemy soldiers kept moving. After he was entirely sure they had moved on, and there was no danger, he stood quietly. “Okay, let’s keep going.”

The two of them pressed forward, taking cover behind helicars and trying to stay as inconspicuous as possible. All of that was shattered in an instant when the door to a business they were passing by swung open, and two Monrovian soldiers strode out, nearly colliding with them. David sprang into action, bringing the butt of his rifle down on the head of one of the men, then turning in place and delivering a series of punches to the face of the second. Simone finished them off with point blank stun rounds to both men’s center mass.

David was about to congratulate her on quick thinking, when shouts rang out behind them, followed rapidly by bullets smacking into the wall over their heads. “Down!” he shouted, making himself as small as he could behind another helicar. The sound of bullets slamming into the helicar coupled with the report of enemy rifle fire was deafening. As soon as he detected the fusillade slow, he popped out of cover and opened up with his battle rifle in three round bursts, felling several attackers. Simone added her own fire and cut down a Monrovian soldier that was trying to flank them.

“I think there’s too many of them,” Simone said as she reloaded her weapon.

“Nah. These guys are weekend warriors. It’d take twenty of them to take us,” David replied with a cocky grin. The truth is, she’s right, but I need to keep her morale up.

Then the grenades started going off; fragmentation to the front of them, forcing both David and Simone to keep their heads down, followed by stun grenades landing behind the helicar. He tried to trigger his light filter in time to protect against the effect of the flashbang but was not successful. Holding his ears as his head throbbed, he became disoriented. He regained his sight to find three Monrovian soldiers directly in front of him.

While David had been invoking some false bravado, he was right about one thing—as professionals, David and Simone trained regularly. They lived it, day in and day out. The enemy they faced drilled one weekend a month. Before any of the soldiers in front of him could get off a shot, David put a three-round burst into the one on the left side; then his battle rifle clicked dry.

Both men that still stood fired on David with their battle rifles. They had standard-issue Monrovian weapons, and as such, they couldn’t penetrate the power armor suit he wore. What they could do, though, was make him feel like he’d been gut-punched by a two-hundred-kilo man with iron muscles. Staggering back, he braced himself and launched forward, colliding with the nearest soldier and pushing him to the ground. Pulling back his fist, he punched the unlucky man in the face and broke his nose, causing blood to spray out and temporarily stunning him.

Out of the corner of his eye, David saw Simone engaged in her own hand-to-hand combat. Point-blank rifle fire snapped him back to his problem as the remaining soldier had reloaded and fired thirty rounds on full auto into David’s chest. Screaming in pain, he doubled over. Damn, I think that busted a rib or two.

David realized as he gasped for air that the wind had been knocked out of him by the impact of the bullets into his armor. Stunned, he lay there as the soldier he faced dropped the spent magazine out of his rifle and slapped another in. The man stepped forward and aimed the gun at point-blank range at the faceplate of David’s helmet, its weakest point. There was a loud report of a battle rifle, and much to his surprise, bright red spots appeared in the man’s chest. A moment later, the enemy soldier crumpled to the side, dead.

Simone stepped into view above David, holding one of the enemy’s weapons; it dropped from her hands, and she collapsed on her knees. “Oh my God… I killed him.”

David was finally able to get his breath back as he grunted while sitting up. “Simone, listen to me. It was him or us. You did the only thing you could.”

“I’ve never killed someone before, Colonel…” Simone’s hands and body shook out of control.

David reached out and grabbed her by the shoulders. “Killing someone in war isn’t murder. Period. It’s been recognized throughout history that in a war, especially a just war, which this is by any possible definition, killing your enemy doesn’t condemn your soul.” He paused for a moment before continuing after she didn’t respond. “I’ll never forget the first time I took a life; it was on my first ship posting. It was either them or us. I chose us, and I’ll choose the men and women I fight with every time.”

“The reason I joined the order was so that I didn’t have to kill… that I could still do good without the death.”

David looked at her with sympathy in his eyes. “I get it, more than you can know, Sister. But right here, right now… we’re in a fight for our lives. We’ve got to press on, escape, and evade. Then and only then will you have time to process what happened. I’ll help you if you’d like. Now we keep fighting.”

Simone nodded her understanding, and both of them stood. David stumbled a bit, fighting to keep his feet stable beneath him. “I think I need to file a warranty claim with whoever made these suits,” he cracked.

“I take it you use humor to cope?”

“Perceptive,” David replied as he reloaded his battle rifle. “Yes, it’s how I deal with it now, at least until after the battle.”

They hadn’t gone more than twenty steps when shouts of “Stop!” and “Halt!” rang out from behind. Sliding into cover as quickly as possible, David picked off a couple of attackers with well-placed shots, leaving them twitching in the middle of the street.

“We need to break contact with these guys fast,” David said.

“Any thoughts on how to do that?”

“I’ll keep them occupied while you fade down the next side street, then blow up one of these helicars and use it as a distraction to follow.”

“I don’t like that plan. We have a better chance of survival if we stay together.”

“You got a better one? We don’t have endless supplies of ammo, and I’m not keen on going back to hand-to-hand combat again.”

Simone made a face inside of her helmet and shook her head. “Okay, but you’re right behind me?”

David nodded. “Absolutely.” He flashed her a smile. At the same time, he pulled a fragmentation grenade off his belt, yanked the pin out, and tossed it toward the advancing enemy soldiers. “Go!”

Simone didn’t need further encouragement; she sprang to her feet and ran as fast as possible while David laid down covering fire. The grenade exploded with a bang, fire and smoke filling the air. He kept up suppressive fire on three separate groups of enemies until his battle rifle clicked dry. Furiously swapping magazines, the opposing force took the opportunity to pour rounds into the helicar he was crouched behind. The vehicle’s hover exhaust fell off, so many bullets hit it. His suit took many additional rounds, but thanks to the velocity of the bullets slowing dramatically after going through the helicar, they had little effect.

As David popped his head up to continue the fight, he realized, with a sinking sensation in his gut, he was greatly outnumbered. No less than eight enemy soldiers were directly in front of him, weapons sighted down. In the split second in which he considered what to do, two more appeared on his right side. “Drop your weapon, terrorist!” one of them yelled.

David let the battle rifle fall onto the hood of the helicar; he took advantage of their limited training and his lightning-fast reflexes, which were enhanced by his power armor. He grabbed a plasma grenade off his belt, dislodging the pin at the same time. “Gentlemen, I would all take a step back if I were you,” he warned. “This will kill anyone within a ten-meter radius, and if any of you make a wrong move, I’ll drop it.” Unfortunately, it would kill me too, but they don’t need to know I’m worried about that.

“There’s no way out of here. Make it easier on yourself and surrender,” an older man who appeared to be in charge said as he stepped forward out of the line.

“Are you in charge?” David asked.

“Yes.”

“My name is David Cohen. Might have heard of me… I’m the commanding officer of the CSV Lion of Judah. I’m someone you will want to take alive,” David said, shaking the grenade in his hand. “I’m prepared to surrender, but I have terms.”

“You’re not in a position to dictate terms, Colonel Cohen. Reinforcements are on the way, and we have you at a complete disadvantage. Let’s find the pin to that grenade, and we all walk away,” the older man said. David found himself mildly impressed at his demeanor. At least one of them is a professional.

“The young woman with me… you allow her to escape. Those are my terms. Small price to pay to bring me in.”

“How am I supposed to do that? There are National Guard and police combing the streets looking for any survivors as we speak here.”

David shrugged. “Get on your commlink, tell them to let her go. Even better, get her a helicar so she can quickly cover ground.”

The man gaped at David like he had grown a second head. “That’s going to take a few minutes.”

David smiled and waved the grenade yet again. “I’ve got all the time in the world.” This is either going to work or be among the stupidest things I’ve ever done.

27

A few hours later, MacIntosh was jolted out of his sleep at 0300 CMT by his tablet making an awful racket. Grunting, he reached over and picked it up. The screen flashed red, displaying “Presidential Override Communication” in large text. A single button was visible under the text, marked “Accept Communication.” Opening and closing his eyes several times to try to wake up, he pressed his finger against the button, and a moment later, President Spencer appeared on the screen. It looked from the background like he was in his office back on Canaan.

“Andrew, sorry to wake you. We just received word that the Monrovians captured Colonel Cohen when they turned back a strike at several concentration camps.”

That got MacIntosh’s attention in an instant. He sat up straighter, his eyes opened wide, and his brain went into overdrive. “Do we know that for sure, Mister President?”

“Unless flash human cloning’s been perfected in the last week… it’s him. They’re parading him around on the holonets. The news broke less than fifteen minutes ago.”

MacIntosh’s head dropped forward. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“No blame being assigned, Andrew. We’re trying to figure out how it happened. Our intelligence suggested the battle was well in hand.”

“That was my understanding as well, sir. Our projections showed total victory within eight days for the sisters.”

There was a considerable amount of crosstalk that MacIntosh couldn’t make out between people standing to the side of the president’s desk. It took a few seconds for it to clear and Spencer to begin speaking again. “We’ve got some new information, Andrew. There are credible reports of League cargo ships landing on Monrovia.”

“That would explain a great deal, especially why they had success all of a sudden.”

“I need you to get down to Canaan and meet with the joint chiefs. I’ve given the intel community two hours to get to the ground truth of what’s going on out there. I’ll be looking for your input on how we clean up the mess.”

“Yes, sir,” MacIntosh replied. Damn you, Cohen. This has gotten outrageously complicated because you had to play the hero. “I’ll be on my way down in twenty minutes, sir.”

“Excellent. Godspeed, Andrew. Spencer out.”

MacIntosh set the tablet aside and swung out of bed. I’m just not as young as I used to be, he groused to himself, bones creaking as he stood and headed to the shower.

* * *

Hundreds of lightyears away on Monrovia, the mood in the sisters’ command tent was somber. The shuttles and fighters from the aborted strikes had returned, and the order’s leadership, as well as Calvin, Hassan, and Tural, had gathered to discuss the events of the day. In the words of the Mother Superior, they would try to find a strategy that would allow them to press forward.

“We got our butts handed to us by these Monrovian assholes,” Calvin stated matter-of-factly.

“Language, Colonel Demood,” Sarno said harshly.

“Sorry, ma’am, would you like to beat my knuckles with a ruler and make me write on the board a hundred times I won’t do it again?” Calvin responded caustically.

“Colonel, such hostility does us no good,” Amir said. We need to stay focused and confident so that we might still win.

Sarno pointed at the updated battle board that showed new, far more lethal Monrovian units outfitted with the latest League technology. “Our enemy is now capable of fighting us on near equal terms. We need a different strategy,” she said, her voice carrying throughout the room. “I’m open to any logical ideas that do not compromise our principles and allow us to carry on to victory.”

Calvin cleared his throat. “I take it use of strategic weapons is out of the question?”

“Colonel, please. We need serious ideas.”

“I’m sorry, Mother Superior, but I’m sick of using the kid gloves on these guys. We could have struck a knockout blow before them getting supplies from the League.”

Amir put his hand on Calvin’s shoulder. “We’re all friends here. Let us focus on what we can do now, and not recriminations that only serve to divide us,” he said in his soothing baritone voice.

“The big advantage that the Monrovians currently have over us is their upgraded air support capability. They have thirty-four that we’ve seen anyway, sixth-generation space superiority fighters configured for atmospheric flight. We lost two pilots and fighters today, leaving us with ten birds ready for combat,” Arendse said, laying out the crux of the problem.

“Sister, we have ground-impact bombs and missiles with cluster munitions available, do we not?” Amir asked.

“Yes, we do,” Arendse began, then she stopped, a smile forming on her lips. “You want to hit them on the ground.”

Amir bobbed his head up and down. “It’s where they are most vulnerable. They’re likely keeping a few of them on ready five, the rest on ready thirty alert. We already know they aren’t especially good at running more than two sorties in a day, and I can’t believe they have any modern refueling capabilities.”

Sarno’s face perked up as she listened to them. “I requested advanced ECM pods from the CDF… so we have those too.”

“The Monrovians may have updated fighters, but they haven’t had the time to upgrade their entire space/air defense network,” Arendse interjected. “Okay. Let’s say we come up with an operational plan that works. That will leave us facing the rest of their national guard, which now has power armor, advanced tanks, and weapons easily capable of defeating our armor.”

“We need more people,” Kaufman said flatly. “We don’t have enough combat effectives. Doctor Tural, what about the people we’ve rescued? Can any of them fight?”

“A few. But they don’t have military experience for the most part. We learned from debriefing the survivors that anyone who could be considered a threat was separated from the rest and held elsewhere. I’m not sure what throwing inexperienced civilians into the fray with basic training on how to pull the trigger gets us except a lot of dead civilians.”

“I’ve been studying the responses from average Monrovians to the current conflict, and I believe I may have an idea on a way to get more support,” a nun who Amir hadn’t met before said, with what he took to be a slight Russian accent.

“Enlighten us, Sister Chayka,” Sarno said.

“There is a rising tide of discontent among the general population. Despite tight control by the authorities over news broadcasts, there’s something of a black-market news operation run by people on social media platforms on the holonet. I believe we could harness that black market, if you will. Generate protests, get large numbers of people in the streets. The Monrovians would have to use their paramilitary police forces and National Guard to control the riots, causing them to spread out. Once that occurred, we would be able to launch attacks with impunity again. Assuming we have air superiority, of course.”

“What about Colonel Cohen?” Calvin asked pointedly. “When are we going to get him out of there, Mother Superior?”

“Out of where? I want to rescue him as much as you do, but right now, we have no idea where he’s being held.”

“Is this the point where you tell me that all of this is bigger than one man, and we have to stay on mission?”

Sarno said nothing, but the way her face contorted spoke to anger.

“I’d remind you all if it weren’t for this one man, none of us would be here right now, and the Monrovians would’ve merrily continued killing innocent men, women, and children.”

“And we haven’t taken losses?” Sarno finally said, her face turning red. “Our order lost more sisters today than we have in the last three years combined. I lament the loss of an outstanding leader and a courageous soldier, but I will not risk the entire fight to save one man or woman. If you can figure out where he’s being held, determine how to get him out, and put together a viable plan, bring it to me. I would love nothing more than to save Colonel Cohen… but our focus now has to be on completing what we started.”

“If I may,” Amir began. “Perhaps it would be better to split into several groups to attack the multitude of problems we face separately.” Hopefully, that will redirect the anger into something more productive.

Several of the nuns nodded at Amir’s suggestion, which Sarno seemed to take note of as her eyes swept about the room. “I agree, Colonel Amir. Would you join the pilots in evaluating our ground attack plan?”

“Of course, Mother Superior.”

“The rest of us will review the suggestion to ferment dissent within the populace and strike while they are divided.”

“I’m going to find out where they took Colonel Cohen,” Calvin said in a loud tone that bordered on rude.

“I wish you luck in that endeavor, Colonel,” Sarno responded neutrally. “We will reconvene in the morning. Dismissed.”

As soon as “dismissed” left her lips, the nuns filed out of the tent, with Sarno walking out behind them, her long robe dragging across the ground. Calvin, Tural, and Amir were left alone.

“Why does it seem like I’m the only one here pushing to go get the colonel and bring him home?” Calvin asked.

“Cal,” Amir said, using his nickname on purpose. “We all want David back. Getting mad and turning on each other and our allies isn’t going to get him back. The first thing we must do is neutralize the enemy air power. Once we do that, we’ll bring him home.”

Calvin sighed and shook his head. “I’m sorry, Amir. I’m wound up tight the last few days. I feel like I let Cohen down by not being there for him.”

“I’m pretty sure that Colonel Cohen would tell us all to focus on the mission and not on him.”

“He hasn’t been obeying orders lately, so why should we?” Calvin asked, a wicked grin on his face.

“I’m more concerned about what the Mother Superior will do to us if we disobey her orders,” Tural interjected.

“Let’s get to it, gentlemen,” Amir said. “Three hours isn’t much time to do what we need to get done.”

The other two nodded, and the three men walked out of the tent together. Allah, please give us strength and give me wisdom to help defeat the infidels. He realized with a start he’d missed the third prayer of the day and resolved to make the fourth prayer if it all humanly possible.

* * *

Aibek peered around the bridge at 1600 CMT onboard the Lion of Judah. I am ready to get some food and retire to my cabin to review reports. I am not sure I would ever want David’s job… he must do far too much paperwork. Still, commanding the ship even temporarily was an incredible honor. The teamwork and dedication by this group of individuals that became something more than the sum of their parts when all worked together was awe-inspiring. Still, the news that David had been captured had hit the ship hard. The bridge team, and especially the officers and enlisted personnel that worked with David daily, were in a funk and chafed at not being able to help get him home.

“Conn, communications,” Taylor said from his station. “Incoming flash traffic, CDF Command. I have General MacIntosh on active vidlink.”

“Put him through to my view, Lieutenant,” Aibek replied, looking up at the small viewscreen above the CO’s chair that David usually sat in.

The unsmiling face of General MacIntosh snapped onto the screen. “Good day, General, sir.”

“Good afternoon, Colonel Aibek. What is the ship’s status?” MacIntosh asked, all business.

“All systems are normal, and we’ve sustained minimal battle damage, sir.”

“Good. I have new orders for you. Proceed at best speed to Monrovia and set up a blockade of the system.”

“Sir?” Aibek asked, incredulous. Perhaps honor may be restored by saving Colonel Cohen. No, David. My friend.

“You heard me, Colonel. Blockade the system. Your orders are specifically to prevent any League of Sol military vessels or ships carrying League military hardware from landing. Use whatever force is required to accomplish the objective.”

“What about rescuing Colonel Cohen?”

“Let’s get something straight right now, Lieutenant Colonel Aibek. There will be no military interventions by the Terran Coalition, or any ship flagged as a CDF vessel on the surface of Monrovia. The blockade will prevent the flow of arms, nothing more. If you or any member of the Lion’s crew attempts to attack Monrovian government assets, you’ll be court-martialed and drummed out of the military. Do I make myself clear?”

Aibek nodded uneasily, his scales flaring. “Crystal clear, sir.”

“Colonel Cohen got himself into this mess by disobeying orders. Don’t think that I’m not aware of the little stunt you pulled in taking out the satellite network’s control center. Be thankful that your leaders and President Spencer agree with the morality of your actions. Otherwise, you’d already be out. Make damn sure the rest of your people understand the stakes here. The entire galaxy is watching, and the Terran Coalition isn’t invading a neutral planet.”

“Sir, permission to speak freely?”

“Denied. Carry out your orders, Colonel. MacIntosh out.”

The viewer blinked off, leaving Aibek sitting in the chair, his mouth agape. This is… dishonorable. Evil must be opposed by the just.

“Sir, are we really going to abide by those orders?” Ruth asked, openly breaking bridge protocol.

“Lieutenant, we have our orders,” Aibek said, setting his jaw and sitting up in the chair.

“Seriously, sir? We’re just going to execute a blockade and leave Colonel Cohen to rot?”

“What would you have us do, Lieutenant? Launch an unauthorized invasion?”

“We could for starters provide better intelligence to the sisters. How about additional air support, or a special warfare team. There are options short of a full-scale invasion.”

“Lieutenant, you are out of line. If you cannot hold yourself to the standards required to serve at your post, I will relieve you of duty,” Aibek stated in his unflappable, matter-of-fact tone.

Ruth’s face turned blood-red, her cheeks puffed in and out, and her fists clenched. “What are your orders, sir?” she finally asked, voice dripping with contempt.

“Prepare the LIDAR system for multiple target acquisition. You will need to work closely with the pilots to track and inspect all vessels coming and going from Monrovia.”

“Yes, sir,” Ruth grated out before turning around in her chair to face the void.

The thing about it, she’s not wrong. Damn politicians. A shame this wasn’t a Saurian operation. There’d be no question of doing whatever it took to get a warrior home. “Navigation, plot Lawrence drive jump to Monrovia.”

“Plot Lawrence drive jump to Monrovia, aye aye, sir,” Hammond said.

Aibek sat back in the chair, thinking through possibilities. Perhaps the opportunity to help Cohen will present itself in a way that doesn’t require breaking orders. Until then, we will press on with our duty.

28

Over the previous ten hours since his capture, David had been roughed up and left bloodied and bruised. There were some attempts at questioning him, but nothing that gave him pause or came remotely close to obtaining information. Now, though, he sensed the situation was changing. He’d been marched into a room while blindfolded and strapped into a chair that seemed built solely for torture from what he could tell. He heard the breathing of another person, and then a male voice very close to him.

“Hello, Colonel Cohen. How are you doing today?”

David couldn’t quite place the accent, but the sound of it reminded him of a hissing snake.

“Name, David Cohen. Rank, Colonel. Serial Number, 50-6813560FP.”

The other man laughed. “I’m already aware of that information, Colonel. I wish to discuss other matters.”

“I want to retire and become a rabbi. We’ve got all dreams.”

The blindfold was suddenly ripped off, leaving David to rapidly close his eyes amid the brightness of the light directed at his face. “You have spirit… good. That will make helping you to see the truth of your existence an even greater triumph of reason over superstition.”

David blinked several times, trying to see the man attached to the voice, but could only get vague glimpses of him. “If you’re going to try to convince me there’s no God, don’t waste your breath,” he said in a steady voice.

The lights dimmed for a moment, allowing David to take in the sight of the interrogator, a short man with Asian features. He appeared to be middle-aged, but the most important detail was his uniform, which consisted of a black utility suit, standard issue in the League of Sol. So, they brought in a professional. I should be so lucky.

“I’m not only going to convince you there is no God, but I’m also going to help you convince others of it,” the man said. He turned and gestured at four paintings on the wall. “How many pictures do you see here, Colonel?”

“Four.”

“Really? I could be sure there’s five. Look again.”

David rolled his eyes. “Let me guess… two plus two equals five? What’s next, you’re going to take me to room 101?”

The man laughed again. “I like you, Colonel. I suppose it’s a bit of whimsy on my part. I see we’ve both read the same book, though it’s been a very long time since it was the year 1984.” The lights turned up again, and the man got very close to David’s face. “Let‘s get a few things straight here, shall we? First, you don’t exist anymore. No one is coming for you. Your friends have no idea where you are. Second, I control your life. I hold it in my hands. Help me, and you might walk out of here. Refuse, and you will die in agony. Third, nothing you have ever done has ever prepared you for being questioned by the League. I dedicate my life to honing my craft. I take it very, very seriously. Breaking you will be my crowning achievement.”

Great, I got a raging narcissist as an interrogator. “Hopefully, not breaking me won’t impact your next League efficiency review.”

The man smiled in a way that made David shiver to his bones. “How many soldiers do the Little Sisters of Divine Recompense have landed on Monrovia?”

“None... they don’t have soldiers. They’re all nuns,” David said in his best attempt at a cheeky tone. Immediately, he regretted it as pain shot through his body, as if every nerve was on fire at once. Unable to control himself, he let out a blood-curdling scream.

It took a few seconds for the pain to stop registering, even after the device causing it was turned off. When David’s mind finally did clear, he saw the man smiling and looking down at him. “Now we’re going to stop with the smart-mouth answers. How many nuns are on the planet?”

“Fifty thousand,” David replied, remembering his training to give fake but believable information over no information.

“You’re lying. I already know there are less than eight thousand nuns deployed here.”

“Then why are you asking me?”

“Because I want you to know that I know far more than you think I do so that when you lie to me, it will be exceedingly painful.”

“Bring it on,” David said, and immediately, the searing pain shot through him again, causing another ear-shattering scream.

“Now let’s address a different subject,” the man began after waiting thirty seconds for David’s mental faculties to return. “I’d like you to admit to me that there is no God.”

“Never.”

“I see,” he said, then spoke into a commlink. “Bring in the prisoner, please.”

The door swung open, and two guards wearing the uniform of the League manhandled a young woman in a nun’s robe and habit into the room. “So, you say there’s a God?”

“Without question.”

The man reached out his hand, and one of the guards handed him a standard-issue League sidearm. “Would you also say this woman, a sister of God… a nun, who has sworn her life to the service of God himself, is someone He’d care about?”

“God cares about everyone equally.”

“Would he care if I killed her in front of you?”

“Of course. It would be added to the list of sins you’ve committed, which I’m sure is extraordinarily long.”

“Would he care enough to stop me?”

“God doesn’t directly control our actions. We all have free will, and the agency to do what we want.”

“So he cares about us but doesn’t care enough to do anything to help us?”

“He helps us all the time. The incredible rarity of life, the infinite combinations of creation, how everything works together and allows all of us to live. The technology we’ve discovered because of the mental capabilities given to us and the other races that live in our galaxy. All of it, from the big bang to now, reflects God’s care and love.”

“You believe this shit,” the interrogator blurted out, apparently surprised. “A pity.” He lowered the sidearm and shot the nun in both kneecaps. She screamed even louder than David had, blood flowing freely from her wounds.

“Would you like to receive medical attention?” the interrogator asked her.

“Please,” she said, unsteady and half delirious from the pain.

“We’re not uncivilized people… simply renounce God, and I will have you treated by the best physicians in the League.”

She looked up at him, her eyes narrowing, and with a strength of character David found inspiring, shook her head. “Never. I’ll die first. My soul will go to heaven. This body is nothing more than a shell. I will not spit on my Lord to save it.”

“You fanatics always start the same, blathering on about God this and God that. Sometimes I even encounter a few of you that keep going on about it as you die,” the man said, before casually shooting her in the head. Her lifeless body slumped to the floor, and David felt pure blinding rage build within him.

David first tried to rip the restraints off, but they were just too strong and he too weak. He was trapped; then the pain hit again, washing over him like a sea of fire. “Oh, Colonel, you can’t break free. You’d need a laser cutter to get out of those bonds. Now, where were we? Oh yes, I’d like you to admit that God isn’t real.”

David recalled the book of Job, where his wife encouraged him to curse God and die after he’d lost everything and been scourged with boils. He lifted his head and dug deep within to find the will to continue to resist. “The Lord gives, and the Lord takes away. I’ve served Him my entire life. I served Him yesterday, I serve Him today, and if I still draw breath, I’ll serve Him tomorrow. Blessed be the name of Lord my God!”

The face of the interrogator twisted into an angry mask, and he pressed the button to administer pain yet again. David screamed in agony yet again, and his body felt as if it was on fire. Unlike the rest of the times he’d used the button, this time, the man held it down.

David kept screaming, thrashing, trying to break free, and then everything went dark as unconsciousness took him.

* * *

Kenneth felt his commlink buzz as he made his through the chow line at one of the primary mess halls onboard the Lion of Judah. He glanced down and furrowed his brow when he saw the message was from Calvin. Well, I can’t take that in the middle of the mess. He slid out of line and headed toward the exit. Looking around for someplace private, he stepped into a single-person male bathroom and locked the door. After pressing his thumb against the fingerprint reader to unlock his tablet, he was treated to Calvin’s unsmiling face.

“Kenneth, thought I was going to have to leave you a vidmail,” Calvin said without preamble.

“Sorry, Colonel, I was at the chow hall. Had to find a private place to talk.”

“I need you to pull some info for me.”

“What kind of info?”

“Colonel Cohen had some stealth drones on station, performing passive and active scans of Monrovia. Could you tap into them and help us try to find him?"

Kenneth furrowed his brow, deep in thought. “I might be able to do one better, sir. The Lion of Judah is now in the system.”

“Wait, what? You’re at Monrovia?” Calvin asked incredulously.

“Yeah. I’m not entirely sure why, but the brass ordered us in to enforce a blockade of the planet. Something about preventing League arms shipments. We’re stopping every incoming freighter and sending a VBSS team to inspect it,” Kenneth replied, referencing Visit, Board, Search, and Seizure teams.

“That makes things a bit easier. When are the Marines coming?”

“They’re not. Colonel Aibek’s made it clear that our orders are not to interfere with anything going on the planet. I’m liable to lose my ability to work for the CDF just for talking to you.”

“Why’d you take my call, then?”

Kenneth smiled. “Because it’s not often I get to walk out at the end of a day and say I did something that made a difference. Well, and I’m worried about my friends.”

“The day I need a slimy defense contractor as a friend…”

“You got any information on where Colonel Cohen was captured?”

“We’ve got the general target area, why?”

“I’ll pull the data from the drones and get some help in writing an algorithm to parse out what happened. With visual imagery, we should be able to track him down.”

“Time is something we don’t have a lot of. Things are going from bad to worse down here.”

“It’s my top priority as of now, Colonel.”

There was a loud flushing noise from the bathroom next to the one that Kenneth occupied.

“What the heck was that?”

“Someone flushed the toilet in the ladies’ room.”

“You’re talking to me in the head?”

“Yeah.”

Calvin chuckled. “Couldn’t find somewhere, literally anywhere else to take the call?”

“It was here, or an airlock. I prefer the head to an airlock.”

“Valid point, Kenny.”

Kenneth rolled his eyes in annoyance; he detested that nickname. “Anything else?”

“Not right now. Get us a location on David, then we’ll take it from there.”

“Roger that. Lowe out,” Kenneth said.

“Out here.”

Calvin’s picture blinked off the screen, and it went dark. Kenneth returned his tablet to his belt and pondered what to do next. The best computer scientist on the ship was also its most difficult-to-motivate human. Oh well, I’ll never know if he’ll help unless I try, Kenneth considered as he washed his hands and walked out of the bathroom, heading for Dr. Hayworth’s office. Dinner was now a distant memory.

29

David awoke with a start in his cell. It was pitch black, and he had no idea how long he’d been out, how long he’d been in the cell, or even what time of the day or night it was. Then he realized he couldn’t move. He realized with a start that he was in a squat, and his arms were tied behind his back. He tried to roll over, but there was some obstruction that kept him from moving. Great, stress positions.

“Adonai, please hear my prayer,” David whispered in Hebrew. “If it is Your will, save me from this place, give me the strength to resist, and to stay true to Your precepts and word. Amen.”

There was no way for him to measure the passage of time, but his leg muscles began to burn, then cramp. Eventually, there was no way to block the pain. It overwhelmed him, leaving him to cry out. He drifted in and out of consciousness and was only vaguely aware of the guards that came in and removed him from the enclosure he was in and dropped him on the floor. After they left, he was startled to hear a woman’s voice call out. “David?”

David shivered and felt like someone had walked on his grave. He’d never forget the sound of that voice. “Sheila?”

“It’s me.”

“No, you’re dead. I’m hallucinating.”

“Were you hallucinating when I came to you in a vision a few weeks ago?”

“That was different…” David closed his eyes, trying to get control over himself. “They must have worked me over pretty good.”

“They did. You’re lucky to be alive at this point. That dreadful Leaguer held the button down for thirty-six seconds. The manual states the maximum dose is twenty seconds.”

David, in spite of everything, snickered. “Guess I’ll tell him to get a stronger machine for next time.”

“Maybe you should stop trying to piss him off and focus on surviving?”

“Oh, I’m focused on surviving. I was hoping if I got under his skin, he’d lose control and have to be replaced. Maybe buy me a few more hours.”

“You don’t think you can keep from giving up information?”

“I’m not even sure what information I have that would be of value to them. The operational plans are shot to heck, and I’m sure that the League has enough sensor systems to know exactly what we have and what we don’t have. Still, I won’t give up what I do just in case.”

“Still stubborn as an ox,” Sheila observed.

“You must be my brain trying to calm me down.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Does it matter?”

“I suppose not.”

“You know that reporter likes you.”

“No, she doesn’t… she thought I played her and was mad as Hades,” David said.

“Oh, David, you really are clueless at times about the fairer sex. She was mad because she likes you and felt personally betrayed. Then she was happy to be wrong when she assessed your reaction.”

He coughed repeatedly. “If you say so. If I ever get out of here, maybe I’ll find out.”

“If you get out of here? Don’t you have faith they’ll come for you?”

“They’ve got a war to fight. I wouldn’t expect the sisters to drop everything and come for me. It’s up to me to keep fighting as a POW. I can still fight and will continue to resist with honor as long as I can.”

David felt a hand take his and squeeze tightly. “That’s my David, always keeping up the good fight.”

“Somebody’s got to. One thing’s for sure… I’m in for a world-class dressing down from General MacIntosh. I’m not sure what’s worse; this League interrogator or MacIntosh coming after me.”

Sheila laughed softly. “Only because he likes you. It’s time for me to go. Stay strong, okay?”

“I’ll try to.”

“Godspeed, David,” Sheila replied, and then David felt she was no longer there. Maybe I am going nuts. I pray the sisters are still moving forward and they’ve found a way to overcome the League forces arrayed against them. If anyone could keep going in the face of outrageous odds, it’s that Mother Superior. She is one tough lady. Deciding he needed to try to rest, he closed his eyes and forced himself to drift into sleep.

* * *

Kenneth walked into Hayworth’s lab to find the temperamental scientist using a laser fuser on a circuit board, humming some tune he didn’t recognize to himself. The lab looked as it normally did on the few occasions he had to visit; experiments, tablets, equipment tossed everywhere. At the interruption, Hayworth switched off the fuser and looked up with a snarling expression. “I had my do-not-disturb notification up! What do you want?” he spat at Kenneth.

“Um, I’m sorry to bother you, Dr. Hayworth,” Kenneth said, suddenly a bit unsure what he was about to ask.

“Oh, just out with it. And remember, I don’t want to do any side work for that dreadful company you work for.”

Kenneth grimaced, remembering a previous attempt to strike up a conversation with Hayworth that resulted in the doctor going off on him for half an hour about how slimy defense contractors were. “I need your help to find Colonel Cohen.”

Hayworth stopped what he was doing and looked down the rim of his glasses at Kenneth. “What can I possibly do to help you locate the good colonel?”

“I’ve got visual feeds and scan records from one of our stealth drones over Monrovia. When his shuttle crashed, there’s got to be a visual record of that in there. If we get lucky and he made it out, Colonel Demood and I are hoping there’s a way to track him back to whatever installation he’s being held at.”

“And then the Marines charge in to save the day and shoot the bad guys?” Hayworth asked in his normal acerbically mocking tone.

“Something like that, Doctor.”

“Well, just great. I had important science to do this afternoon, and now you want me to hunt for a needle in a haystack.”

“Colonel Cohen’s life is in danger. He’s no doubt being tortured.”

Hayworth’s expression softened. “What do you even want me to do here? I’m not an intelligence analyst, you know.”

Hmmm. Maybe the way to get him to do is to goad him. “Well, I mean it’s so simple. We need to get an algorithm that can track the colonel’s visual signature and determine where he was taken. You’re right, I shouldn’t have bothered you. I’ll find one of the intel guys and have them run it down for me.”

Hayworth harrumphed and cleared his throat. “Are you trying to say I can’t do a simple task, Mr. Lowe?”

“Well no, I just don’t want to waste your time.”

“Do you have the data with you?”

Kenneth held up a data chip container. “It’s all here. Ten exabytes in total.”

Hayworth held out his hand. “Give me that. I’ll have an answer for you within two hours,” he said smugly.

“You sure, Doctor? Seriously, I don’t want to bother you from the pursuit of science.”

Hayworth snatched the container from Kenneth’s hand. “I’m not as dumb as you seem to think I am, Mr. Lowe. Now get out and let me examine the data.”

“Sure thing, Doc,” Kenneth said, turning on his heel and walking out the door.

“Don’t call me Doc!” Hayworth shouted as Kenneth turned out the door.

Kenneth smiled to himself as he walked down the passageway. Well, that worked out. Time for a late dinner.

30

This mission has evolved, derailed, and turned into a fight for survival. Sarno stood in the command tent, staring down at the map of the planet’s surface that showed all of the camps they still needed to liberate, and the new concentrations of enemy forces. Her two top lieutenants, Arendse and Kaufman, stood nearby, pondering the map as well.

“Sisters, I fear I’ve led us into a situation that has caused much suffering,” Sarno finally said to break the silence. They were due to have a general briefing in another ten minutes.

“I think I speak for the entire order, Mother Superior, when I say that your leadership has been exemplary in this dire hour. We’ve accomplished much and saved many lives. The battle may still be won,” Arendse replied.

“I fear the cost,” Sarno said. “After all, what good is defeating this enemy only to wipe out our order or cause so many casualties that we set back the rest of the progress we’ve made throughout the galaxy.”

“God tests us in so many ways, I’ve lost count,” Kaufman began. “What I know is that of all the causes I’ve fought for, in my prior service and with this order, there’s never one I’ve been surer of. Regardless of the cost, I think God wants us here.”

Sarno smiled. “It’s such an honor to walk His path with you and the rest of our sisters. I challenged you all for a way forward; do we have it?”

Arendse cleared her throat and stepped forward. “The lynchpin is taking out their air assets. Colonel Amir and I have a plan. It’s bold and risky. I believe it’ll work.”

The flap to the tent opened, and the other sisters streamed in, along with Calvin, Amir, and Tural. Sarno had specially invited Simone to recognize her for the daring escape she’d made from the Monrovians. Everyone milled about for a couple of minutes until a quorum had assembled. Sarno cleared her throat; a distinctive sound that every sister in the order knew by heart.

“Sisters, honored guests,” Sarno said as she glanced around the room. Her gaze stopped on Calvin, Tural, and Amir, who stood together. “We need a better title for you three. How does ‘honorary monk’ sound?”

“I don’t care what you call me, as long as you’re talking about me,” Calvin replied to snickers from many of the nuns; even Sarno’s face showed the crease of a smile.

“Well put, Colonel Demood,” Sarno said, continuing her monologue. “We have faced a serious setback in this fight. I spent last night on my knees asking the saints and the Holy Mother herself to intercede our behalf. I considered if we should even continue. But, I believe our order is called to do good by checking evil whenever, however, and wherever we can. Today, we can do the most good on Monrovia by stopping this tyrannical government from killing its citizens and allying with the League of Sol. I challenged our leaders to devise a sound tactical plan for defeating this enemy. Sisters, what do you have for us?”

Kaufman stepped forward. “We’ve got a three-prong strategy to bring the fight to the enemy and defeat them, Mother Superior. Allow me to start by saying it is extremely high risk. However, after discussions between the sisters and Colonels Demood and Amir, we all agree that any strategy that doesn’t go for a knockout blow immediately is doomed to failure. Our resources are finite and far smaller than the Monrovians. Every minute we give them to integrate more League equipment into their armed forces, the worse it gets. We’ve also got to assume the League will send more supplies and munitions. Our plan is deceptively simple. Sister Chayka has been working the planetary holonet, using bot farms to stir up pockets of dissent. We plan to stage demonstrations in every major city on the planet later today, which will coincide with us attacking their main government complex. We believe that if we take out the head of state, the rest of the government will implode due to the lack of leadership.”

“For any of this to work,” Arendse interjected, “we’ll have to take out their air capabilities. We’re going to split into two elements of five fighters each and attack them on the ground.”

“I would expect the Monrovians to have an active combat air patrol, Sister. Have you accounted for that?” Sarno asked.

“Yes, ma’am. We’re outfitting several shuttles with air-to-air missiles and ECM pods, and we’ll use them to spoof the Monrovians into thinking they’re an attacking force, while we sneak in at low altitude, using stealth and our ECM to avoid detection.”

Calvin raised his hand.

Sarno eventually took notice. “Yes, Colonel?”

“Well, I have some updated intelligence this morning. I know where Colonel Cohen is being held.”

“And that is?”

“Black site prison complex, rural area. Something we can hit with a couple of hundred troops and take relatively easy. I got plans for the place from Monahan.”

“I appreciate the initiative, Colonel. Sister Kaufman, do we have the troops to spare?”

Sarno watched as Kaufman made eye contact with Calvin, and immediately saw sadness in her eyes. “No, we don’t, Mother Superior. Our plan calls for every available sister to assault the capital government complex at the same time. I’ll have a reserve element, but I can’t risk it without introducing an overwhelming chance of failure to our main operation.”

Calvin’s face contorted. “That’s just freaking great,” he said, his emotions rising to the surface. “So we leave my brother to die? Guess what… that’s where they took your sisters too. We owe it to them to get them out of there! The League will kill them all if it looks like the government will fall.”

“We’ll turn our attention there once the battle is won, Colonel Demood.”

Calvin crossed his arms and set his jaw. “Not good enough.”

A small voice in the back of the room stood out: Simone’s. “Mother Superior, may I speak?”

Sarno glanced toward her and smiled. “Yes, child.”

“Colonel Cohen put his life on the line for me. That’s the only reason I got away. I now owe it to him to put my life on the line for his. I want to organize a volunteer assault on this black site he’s being held at. Perhaps Colonel Demood would be willing to lead it.”

“But we have no spare troops, Sister Darzi,” Kaufman insisted.

“Yes, we do. There’s many walking wounded that can still fight. Some refugees are willing to fight. If we can raise enough volunteers, let us try. Nothing is lost if we fail, except our own lives, which we would give willingly.”

Calvin turned and stared at her, his face and demeanor betraying his shock. “You’d do that for the colonel, Miss?”

“He surrendered to save me. The least I owe him is trying to save his life,” Simone answered.

This sounds like a suicide mission… but we owe David a rescue attempt. Not to mention the rest of those held there. We still have three sisters unaccounted for. “Make it known this is strictly volunteer. We won’t be able to help you while we’re assaulting the government complex. There will be no air support except your shuttles. Are we all clear?”

“Yes, Mother Superior,” Simone quickly said.

“Crystal,” Calvin replied.

“Sister Kaufman, do we have a timetable for our actions to commence?”

“Yes, Mother Superior. Ground crews are servicing our fighters and shuttles as we speak. We’ll be ready to move in two hours.”

“I haven’t given the order to go yet,” Sarno pointed out.

“We didn’t want to waste time, assuming you approved the operation,” Kaufman answered with a small smile.

She knows me too well. They all do. “Then in two hours, we begin our attack. I suggest we retire to the chapel and say one last mass before battle. The rest of you,” she said while glancing toward Calvin, Amir, and Tural, “may prepare as you see fit. Godspeed to you all.”

* * *

After the meeting adjourned, Calvin made his way out of the tent and looked up at the sky. “I don’t know if You’re up there. If You are, we could use some help about now,” he said, speaking to no one around him. Lowering his head, he found Simone standing in front of him.

“You’re not sure He exists, Colonel?” Simone asked.

“I’m pretty sure there’s an intelligent entity that created the universe. Do I know if it cares about what happens in this universe… no,” Calvin replied. “The truth is half the time I’m a Christian in name only. But you know what? If there is God, He gave me a unique skill set. So let’s put it to good use and go shoot some assholes, get Colonel Cohen, and call it a day.”

Simone chuckled and shook her head. “I should remind you of the rules against swearing and half a dozen other things. Truth is, though, I appreciate your rather simplistic outlook at times.”

“You’d get along with my wife,” Calvin said while laughing himself.

“Follow me. The infirmary recovery ward seems like a decent place to start our recruiting efforts.”

Calvin fell in behind the young novice and followed her across the base to the hospital they had occupied. Numerous nuns acting as medics milled about what had been its admitting room, treating a couple hundred lightly injured patients. Some were nuns themselves; others were Monrovians rescued from the camps.

“Excuse me,” Simone called out, but no one paid attention.

Now, this is something I can fix. “Attention on deck!” Calvin roared.

Practically everyone in the room stopped what they were doing and stared at him. Conversations ceased in an instant, and the area became whisper quiet. “Sister Darzi would like to speak with you,” Calvin said, gesturing to Simone. “Sister, you’re up.”

Simone looked across the room, and Calvin saw her face tighten up. Own it, girl. “Sisters, survivors, friends. I come to you to ask you to join Colonel Demood and me on a rescue mission. Three members of our order and another CDF officer, Colonel David Cohen, are being held captive by the Monrovians. We believe they’re being tortured by League intelligence agents. Every combat-effective sister is tasked with assaulting the planet’s main government complex. While they end this war and topple the corrupt government, I need your help to save these four souls. Who will stand with me?”

A few nuns that had bandages around wounds on their arms and legs stood and walked forward. Another sister with her right arm in a sling stood as well; at Calvin’s questioning look, she smiled back at him. “I’m just as accurate with a pistol as I am with a rifle.”

Calvin couldn’t help but grin in return. We ought to recruit these ladies into the TCMC. With this kind of esprit de corps, they could take Earth itself.

“Are there any more? We have four shuttles, and I need at least sixty volunteers to make the mission viable,” Simone asked.

Several more nuns stood, as did a couple of civilians. Simone’s face clouded over, and she spoke again. “There is no greater love than for a man to lay down his life to save another,” she said, quoting the Bible. “We’ve all done that for each other, and some of us have done it for the people in this very room. Can you not find it within yourself to reach deep inside, and do the same to save four souls who will surely perish?”

Calvin found himself thinking that the entire exercise was a waste of time until entire rows of nuns began to stand, some barely able to walk. He decided it was now time for his own unique brand of encouragement. “Now those are some great words, Sister, but I’m just a Marine. So if there’s anyone here, and yes, I’m talking to you in the back, anyone who knows how to fire a weapon and wants to put some hurt on the bastards that harmed you, your families, and your friends, get in line, because we’re about to deliver some pain on the League and its Monrovian puppets.”

It’s just a question of proper motivation, Calvin thought to himself as some male civilians stood up and stepped forward. “I think we’ve got enough, Sister,” he said to Simone with a big grin on his face.

“You… are a handful.”

“Yeah, that sounds like my wife. Sure you didn’t get her commlink number or something?”

Simone rolled her eyes at him, though with a smile. “Okay, everyone, follow me!” she shouted at those who had assembled. “Let’s get some gear and get in the air!”

31

Whipping through the atmosphere at nearly nine thousand kilometers an hour, Amir’s fighter rocked gently as he adjusted its course to make up for the crosswind that was pushing his craft to the right at one hundred kilometers an hour. The nimble fighter was weighed down with as many bombs and missiles as could be carried; the idea being they would launch a preemptive strike on the Monrovians’ new high-tech fighters then finish off whatever was in the air. If there were any stores left, well, then they’d be able to support the ground troops, but he doubted anything would be left except their wing-mounted energy weapons.

“Credit for your thoughts, Colonel?” Arendse’s deep, accented voice asked on the private commander's commlink.

“I find myself wishing we had CDF logistical support, Sister,” Amir said, grimacing involuntarily, even though she couldn’t see him.

“I suppose, to you, our operations are haphazard.”

“I wouldn’t characterize it that way, just you seem to patch holes up with space tape. We take craft out of service and put new parts in.”

“We don’t have that luxury, I’m afraid. I wish we did, but we make do with what we’re lucky enough to get or have donated to us. We rebuild components over and over, rather than buy new. While most systems are component-driven and modules are considered throwaway, our monks perform board-level repairs on every piece of electronics we own. From the latest and greatest technology, all the way back to those assault landers that were fit to be retired twenty years ago that we fly around in,” Arendse said, her tone veering toward being defensive.

“It‘s nice,” Amir conceded, “to have a massive logistical operation on every carrier that quickly turns around our fighters for another sortie. Do not think I’m not in awe of your ability to keep planes up, I lament that we’re going into battle down two birds, and with another three in various states of damage. There’s only ten of us up here and having anything that’s not optimum makes our job that much harder.”

“If it were easy, everyone would do it. Honestly, Amir, it’s not the disrepair of our fighters that’s the hardest thing about this job. It’s how some of the other sisters look at us… at me.”

“I don’t understand. How do they look at you differently?”

“Because the pilots are the few among the order that, by simply going into battle, kill the enemy. There’s no technological cheat, no gimmick we can use. We all have very deeply held beliefs, and while I know that most don’t look down on us… some of my sisters pity us, which is even worse, at least for me.”

Amir kept one eye on his bearing and altitude, which showed they were still a few minutes out from the target. “I wouldn’t have thought of it that way,” he said. “I find the abilities and courage of you and your fellow pilots to be exemplary, if that counts for anything.”

“To hear that from an accomplished pilot and warrior like you, Colonel, it does.”

“I, too, struggle with the things we must do in service of our cause and country. There is a near constant battle within; Muslims call this the greater Jihad. Our first focus must be to strive for the path that God has set out before us.”

“I thought Jihad was a war against unbelievers?”

“It was in the past in both mainstream and fringe groups. After the Exodus, all religions underwent some amount of reformations, mine included. What we now call the lesser Jihad is the one you speak of, though it is only defensive in nature, and we seek to gain new converts only through the tongue and the pen.”

“Are you going to try to convert me, Colonel?” Arendse said with a small laugh.

“Given the level of commitment shown to your faith, I wouldn’t think of it. I am also proud to say that I greatly respect the people of the book, both Christian and Jew. I mean, my best friend is an Orthodox Jew.”

“I read in the history books that Muslims and Jews used to fight each other constantly, as did Christians. The idea that we once killed one another in large quantities seems so… hard to believe.”

“As bad as the World Society and the League of Sol is now, it did something vitally important. It forced us to confront the fact that despite our differences, we’re all very much alike. Everyone is a child of Allah, and now we exist under the bonds of kinship and brotherhood.”

“Silver linings, eh?”

“Always,” Amir replied. “If I weren’t looking for silver linings, I wouldn’t survive my time in this universe. I must trust that Allah puts me in the right situations to make a difference.”

“Same here, Colonel. What’s our plan again?”

“Sneak in at low altitude, drop our smart bombs on the parked fighters, take out anything that moves in the air, and as Colonel Demood would say, kick the enemy’s butt and get home in time for dinner.”

Arendse laughed hard across the commlink. “The three of you are quite the pairing.”

“In the few months we’ve been serving together, I see the lot of us as providing some balance. Colonel Cohen especially can keep things on an even keel. It is such a pleasure to serve with him again.”

“You knew him before the Lion of Judah?”

“He was the XO of a carrier I was assigned to as a squadron commander. I ended up as the XO for the wing on that ship. My first true command.”

“Good memories?”

“Take out the war… yes. Some of the best years of my service,” Amir replied, wistfully thinking back. “Okay, it’s time to slow our approach, so we blend in with the other air traffic around this military base.”

“Roger that.”

Amir switched his communication channel to the pre-set for the squadron. “Christus flight, slow to 1500 kilometers per hour and follow me down to fifty meters off the deck.”

“Acknowledged, flight lead,” one of the pilots responded; Amir hadn’t been flying with them long enough to recognize everyone’s voice automatically as he did back on the Lion of Judah.

As he guided his fighter down, the rush was incredible as the nimble craft zoomed over the landscape so low that he could make out people on the ground and small details. They passed over an outdoor gathering that left shocked attendees pointing at the sky in amazement. Amir watched the LIDAR display, continuing to pray that whatever early warning capabilities the Monrovians had, they wouldn’t see the sisters and him coming until it was far too late.

“Switch to ground attack focus,” Amir called out into the comm. “Pre-load bomb impact location targets provided in pre-flight and stand by to release ordinance.”

Amir started the mission clock at ninety seconds, trying not to stare as it counted down. His eyes split between the LIDAR display and looking forward out of the cockpit while performing visual sweeps every few seconds to ensure proper situational awareness. At a little under sixty seconds to target, the LIDAR screen began to show a tightly grouped set of four contacts; the system quickly classified them as military craft.

“Sister Arendse, do you see a group of four fighters at our one o’clock on your LIDAR?”

“I do, Colonel. The bearing and speed look like alert fighters just launching from the airbase we’re on the way to hit.”

“I was afraid of that,” Amir replied, beginning to run tactical possibilities through his brain. “We’ll stay low and slow, and see what they do,” he said after deciding on a course of action. “We might get lucky and get in a first strike.” If we don’t get an effective bombing run in, Allah protect us because we’ll be overwhelmed.

For a few moments, Amir began to believe they’d get that critical first hit in before the master alarm sounded. The HUD overlaid on his helmet immediately showed the threat— many ground-launched surface-to-air missiles—zooming toward him and the rest of the sisters’ fighter force.

“Christus flight, break and deploy countermeasures,” Amir said calmly into the commlink.

“Should we drop our bombs?” Arendse asked hesitantly.

“Not yet,” Amir responded on the private channel. “While we will be sluggish with so many munitions slapped onto our fighters, we still need to make that strike. Break right with me and climb. Deploy chaff!”

Taking his own advice, Amir triggered the chaff launcher and pulled back hard on the flight stick, at the same time mentally commanding his fighter to increase thrust to the maximum. Slammed back into the flight couch, he came close to blacking out as his craft pulled 16-Gs in an attempt to avoid the enemy missiles and remain able to fight.

* * *

Half a continent away, Calvin looked over at Simone, who sat in the jump seat of the first assault shuttle heading toward the black site that they believed held David and the other prisoners. “First time up front, Sister?” He was seated in the co-pilot’s seat.

“Yes, Colonel. I’ve only flown in these in the back.”

“You know, you don’t serve under me, so you can call me Calvin. My friends call me Cal for short, if you’d prefer.”

Simone smiled. “Thank you, Cal,” she said, testing out the nickname.

“See, not that hard.”

“Assault Shuttles two and three breaking formation to engage guard towers and marked targets,” the nun piloting the shuttle announced.

“Now it gets real.” Calvin pulled up the tactical overlay on the cockpit screen. They both watched it intently as multiple targets that had been predesignated blinked out, indicating hard kills. “That should even up the odds a bit.”

“It’s still going to be challenging to take the facility. Especially with our diminished force.”

“Getting cold feet?”

“No, Cal. I’m just turning into a bit of a realist.”

“Well, maybe right makes might instead of the other way around.”

“That would be nice,” Simone said with a trace of a smile.

“We’re agreed the gloves are off for this mission, right?”

Simone nodded with a sideways look. “Yes.”

“No backing out, Sister. We go in hard—no stun rounds. The people here don’t deserve mercy, and we don’t have time to be nice. Our only advantage is the element of surprise, and we’ve got to punch them in the face, to begin with… then never take our foot off their collective throats.”

“Are you always this cold toward the enemy?”

Calvin turned away from the tactical overlay to look her in the eye. “Always. I’m not here to ruminate on the rights and wrongs of conflict. I’ve got a job, and that job is to put down the enemy before they kill me, and more importantly, my friends and fellow soldiers.”

Simone was silent as the shuttle loitered just outside of weapons range, waiting for its consorts to finish off the fixed defenses they had marked from drone overflights. The pilot looked over at both of them. “Sister Darzi, shuttles two and three are reporting all targets down. We’re ready to land.”

“You ready, Sister?” Calvin asked, all business.

“If I was completely truthful? No. But sometimes you have to force yourself to go.”

“That’s the spirit; let’s get in there and get our people.”

Simone cued the commlink to the group of shuttles. “This is Sister Darzi. Commence landing and attack all enemy forces! Push into the facility as quickly as possible; remember not to get bogged down in clearing each room, but bottle up enemy forces and press on. Our objective is the sub-basement levels where they hold political and military prisoners. May God go with us!”

“Brace yourselves,” the pilot said, directing her comment mostly at Simone, who was in the jump seat and not fully strapped in.

“Hoorah, Sister!” Calvin said.

From his vantage point in the cockpit, Calvin watched as he had through countless combat insertions throughout his career as the shuttle quickly accelerated to provide as small a window for targeting by enemy anti-air weapons as possible, then hovered and dropped out of the sky with a bone-jarring thud.

“Let’s go! Let’s go!” Calvin shouted, jumping out of the seat and storming through the hatch to the cargo area where the rest of the volunteers were strapped in. The restraints snapped up as he stepped through, with Simone close on his heels.

“I’m not used to doing things like this,” Calvin began. “We’ve got a motley crew here made up of nuns, former military from this planet, and civilians who I normally wouldn’t give a second look. But today is a day we do things differently. We’re going into this facility, we’re rescuing our friends, we’re putting the hurt on the Leaguer bastards that have tortured and hurt them, and then we’re going home. You with me?”

The nuns and volunteers roared their agreement, causing Calvin to smile. “Now that almost sounds like my beloved Terran Coalition Marine Corps. They say being attacked by the TCMC is like being hit by the wrath of God. Let’s show these Leaguer bastards what that looks like! Move out! Let’s go!” he shouted, voice rasping like an old-school drill instructor.

Calvin charged out of the cargo area of the shuttle as soon as the ramp hit the gravel, followed closely by the entire contents of the shuttle; twenty-one more battle-rifle-carrying combatants. The two other shuttles had landed close by; they also discharged their passengers before all three lifted off. As that happened, he took stock of the battlefield and identified hardpoints had been destroyed, but enemy troops were massing near the entrance to the facility.

“Sisters, at ‘em!” Calvin yelled into his open commlink. “All squads forward! Our target is that building entrance! Light them up!”

While he ran, Calvin fired his battle rifle at the troops that were congregated around the entrance, felling several; the well-trained sisters joined in, dropping more and causing them to take cover. “Grenades!” he ordered, lifting his battle rifle and triggering the underslung grenade launcher. Several other nuns did so as well, and the enemy troops that thought they were safely in cover were suddenly hit with fragmentation grenades exploding behind them.

Momentum in combat is such a fickle thing, Calvin considered briefly as he charged across the field at an all-out run. The Monrovians, shocked by the death and destruction caused by the grenades, began to desert the battle line they’d formed and ran back into the facility. As soon as that happened, he knew they had them. He jumped over the first barricade using the assist of his power armor and landed on the other side, discharging his battle rifle at point-blank range into the chest of two unlucky Monrovian soldiers.

Other sisters and some of the braver civilians jumped the makeshift strongpoint as well, causing a mass melee to break out. Before long, Calvin had dropped his battle rifle in its one-point sling and drawn his sidearm, systematically taking down enemy combatants at close range. Looking to his right, he saw the wounded nun from before, with her arm in a sling, doing the same thing. Chuckling to himself as he ran out of ammunition, he used his sidearm as a club, knocking Monrovians out with a direct bash to the head.

As the last few scampered away, Simone appeared at his side. “Not bad for an old guy, Colonel.”

“Who the heck are you calling old, young whippersnapper?” Calvin retorted good-naturedly.

“We only took a couple of casualties taking this position. One fatality. I suppose I should be grateful that the cost thus far is light.”

“We’ll worry about it after we finish the fight. Get some explosives up here and blow the damn door. If they get too much time to regroup, this will be far costlier than it ought to be.”

“Yes, Colonel!” Simone said crisply while turning to look for the nun that had experience with door breaches.

Calvin reloaded his battle rifle and sidearm, preparing for the next wave. We might pull this half-assed op off.

32

Thousands of kilometers away, Amir rolled his fighter and pulled back hard on his flight stick, trying to throw off pursuing missiles and enemy craft. They had successfully evaded the first wave of enemy SAMs, but now there were more aircraft in the fray. Twelve League fighters were now in the air and were charging toward his formation.

“Sister Arendse,” Amir said into the private commlink reserved for the two of them. “I believe we have no choice but to jettison our bombs and focus on the air-to-air fight.”

“But we’ll be overrun if that happens,” Arendse insisted. “Someone has to bomb those fighters out of existence.”

“We’ll have to strafe them, then. But only after we deal with the enemy in front of us.”

There was a pregnant pause on the commlink. “Some of us could lead a suicide attack. Come in at a high angle of attack, drop the bombs, and well… who cares if we survive or not.”

“No, we all try to come out of this alive. To do anything else is wrong.”

“I’ll follow your lead, for now, Colonel. I’m not allowing these evil doers to kill my sisters. Whatever it takes to stop them.”

“Trust in Allah and his will,” Amir said as he cut over to the primary squadron channel. “Christus flight, jettison all bombs! Configure to air-to-air focus!”

“Confirm that order, Colonel,” one of the sisters replied.

“I say again, jettison all bombs and prepare for air-to-air combat!” Amir barked, brooking no discussion.

Acknowledgments lit up his squadron communications board, with all ten fighters signaling green. Amir cued up the command to drop his bombs without arming them; as soon as they left the pylons, his craft was instantly far more maneuverable and agile. Calling up his air-to-air tactical overlay on the HUD, he noted that the enemy fighters were three hundred kilometers away and on a direct intercept course. “Tally ho!” Amir called into the comm. “Twelve bandits, two o’clock! Range, three hundred kilometers. Stand by for maximum BVR missile launch! Weapons free!” BVR stood for Beyond Visual Range.

The flight of ten Phantoms angled to the right, shifting their heading to point straight on at the closing League fighters. The missile tone sounded in Amir’s cockpit, the advanced LIDAR targeting system achieving a lock. “Christus One, Fox three!”

“Christus Two, Fox three!”

“Christus Seven, Fox three!”

The other pilots called launches, and Amir tracked the inbound missiles through his HUD. A few seconds later, he observed enemy missiles launching. “Christus flight, take evasive action. Inbound air-to-air missiles.”

Pulling back hard on the flight stick, Amir headed up and dropped chaff behind him. His three wingmen did the same, following in close formation. The other two groups of three fighters scattered off on different headings, doing their best to confuse the enemy threat. He watched as their salvo of missiles mostly hit chaff jettisoned by the League pilots or was spoofed by ECM. Still, two League icons blinked out of existence.

Amir tracked the incoming missiles and was gratified that superior Terran Coalition ECM spoofed the ones headed toward his element; one of his other squads wasn’t so lucky. The most damaged fighter couldn’t jink and maneuver like the others, and it was bracketed by two League missiles, erasing it from existence. He winced, aware the sister who piloted it went into combat knowing she was in a limited craft but had never wavered. Real courage.

“Christus flight, we’re at a disadvantage in BVR combat. Follow me in; we’re going to close in and engage them close up,” Amir said.

“You're using the same tactics the Monrovians used on us,” Arendse commented on their private channel.

“Correct, Sister. It’s the right move given our situation.”

“And then?”

“Once we’ve defeated this group of fighters, we’ll try to engage the remaining craft on the ground before they can launch.”

“That’s a long shot, Colonel.”

“I know,” Amir replied, not feeling very good about their odds himself.

* * *

While the dogfight continued, Ruth monitored the situation from the bridge of the Lion of Judah. They had established the location of the two bases on the ground that had League fighters stationed at them and were actively monitoring the airspace. She called back to Aibek, “Conn, TAO! Confirm twelve League fighters have appeared on our screens and are engaging friendly contacts.”

“Acknowledged, TAO.”

“Sir, I believe the friendly forces were trying to take out the enemy craft on the ground.”

“Did they succeed?” Aibek asked.

“Negative, sir. They were unable to engage before being attacked by airborne League assets and surface-to-air missile systems that appear to be the latest and greatest in the League’s arsenal.”

“We don’t know that they’re League assets, Lieutenant. They could have Monrovian pilots.”

Ruth turned around in her chair and stared at Aibek. “With respect, sir, there’s little chance green pilots are performing the kind of maneuvers I’m seeing. They’re up against expert-level combatants. Same goes for those SAMs.”

“Even if that’s accurate, what does it change?”

“If they’re actual League assets, we have the authority to engage.”

“I’m under specific orders not to engage any target on Monrovia, Lieutenant,” Aibek responded.

Ruth realized that the bridge had become very quiet. Open discussion of this nature didn’t happen on a CDF ship. “Sir, they’ve got another fifty or so sixth generation fighters down there. Once they start getting them into the air, Colonel Amir won’t have a chance.”

“Do we have a fix on the exact location of the League fighters and sensor systems for the SAMs?”

“Yes, sir. They’re parked out in the open. I have them down to the centimeter.”

Ruth wondered what was going through Aibek’s mind; his facial expression was harsh with his eyes narrowed, and his mouth tight. “Neutron cannons?” he asked in an open-ended manner.

“They’d be our most effective weapon, sir. Missiles would destroy far too much area around the planes, as would mag-cannon rounds. Energy weapons would be the weapon of choice.”

There was a multiple-second pause as Aibek just sat there; Ruth could almost see the tug-of-war going on in his mind. Finally, he punched a button on the CO’s chair that engaged the built-in microphone. “Attention, all hands, this is your XO. General Quarters! General Quarters! All hands, man your battle stations! I say again, man your battle stations! Set condition one throughout the ship! This is not a drill!”

As he spoke, Ruth swiveled around in her chair and punched in the commands to engage condition one; the lights on the bridge switched to a deep blue color that allowed them to see console readouts better.

“TAO, get me a firing solution on the League fighters and SAMs. All of them.”

“Conn, TAO, acquiring firing solutions, sir.”

It took Ruth a few minutes; she had to plot an individual solution for each fighter in order to ensure hitting all of the targets. “Conn, TAO, firing solutions confirmed.”

“TAO, firing point procedures, neutron cannons, League fighters, and SAMs.”

“Conn, TAO, ready to engage, sir,” Ruth answered back forcefully.

“TAO, match bearings, shoot, neutron cannons!”

Ruth triggered the firing sequence, and the Lion’s neutron cannon emitters roared to life. Potent beams of blue energy issued from the ship, each strike erasing a fighter or SAM missile pod from existence. It took twenty seconds to cycle through the entire list of targets, but when they finished, no active enemy contacts remained.

“Conn, TAO, enemy targets neutralized.”

“Good shooting, Lieutenant,” Aibek replied. “Status of the air-to-air engagement?”

“Amir’s flight has splashed four bandits while taking one loss. They’re continuing to engage.”

“Continue to monitor the situation.”

“Yes, sir,” Ruth replied, watching her tactical screen like a hawk.

33

“Colonel! Did you see that? Weapons fire from space!” Arendse shouted into her commlink, professionalism giving way to joy.

“Christus One, guns, guns, guns!” Amir called out, squeezing the trigger to fire his miniature neutron cannons; a moment later, the League fighter he was chasing exploded, raining debris over the battlefield.

“I did indeed, Sister! I’m unaware of any friendlies on station. Does your order have some friends we weren’t made aware of?”

“Not that know of, Colonel. My onboard computer classified those as ship-based neutron cannon strikes. Not from something small either. The impacts were heavy cruiser or better strength.”

“I wonder…” Amir said, his voice trailing off. He switched to the commlink to the spacecraft emergency frequency, known among pilots as the Guard frequency. “This is Lieutenant Colonel Amir to any friendly CDF forces. Do you read me, over?”

“Colonel? Is that you? This is Lieutenant Taylor.”

“By Allah, it’s so good to hear your voice, Lieutenant,” Amir replied, momentarily overcome by emotion. “I wasn’t sure how we were getting out of this alive.”

“Do you guys need more help? Colonel Aibek has alert fighters warming up, and we’re preparing pararescue support if you need it.”

“We’ve eliminated all but two enemy craft. I believe we can finish them off and return to base. I’ll defer on the reinforcements. I know Colonel Cohen wants to avoid direct CDF involvement if at all possible.”

“Understood, Colonel. How’s everyone else? We’re pretty worried about Colonel Cohen up here.”

“Colonel Demood and some of the sisters are attempting to rescue him. How they’re faring, I don’t know.”

“Can you switch to a secure channel?”

“Negative, Lieutenant. We zeroed all crypto keys out when we transferred these birds to the sisters,” Amir replied with some irritation. That oversight was hurting them now.

“Okay, sir. We’ll stand by. Colonel Aibek asked me to wish you good luck and Godspeed.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant. Pass back that we’re very thankful for the help. Insha’Allah!” Amir replied, then mentally turned his commlink back to the private channel with Arendse. “The assist came from the Lion of Judah,” he announced.

“She’s back in orbit? What about additional reinforcements?”

“Unlikely. Orders were direct from Colonel Cohen that the ship wasn’t to get involved. I would be reasonably certain that eradicating those fighters broke standing orders… not that you will find me complaining.”

“So, what now?”

Inside of his flight helmet, Amir’s face broke into a fierce grin. “Now, Sister, we finish off the enemy!”

* * *

Kaufman adjusted her helmet and reset the HUD. It had been causing her problems for days, but there wasn’t enough time for the sisters that kept up their armor to attempt a repair. The limited cycles they had were spent on patching power armor and making mission-critical fixes. There’s not enough time left to fix my silly HUD. She smacked the side of it. A moment later, the HUD reengaged.

“Colonel Amir to Alpha leader,” Amir’s voice registered through the commlink in Kaufman’s headset.

“This is Alpha leader, go ahead,” Kaufman promptly replied.

“Sister Kaufman, enemy air is gone. You are clear to proceed without fear of air-to-air interception.”

“Very good. Do you have any munitions left for close support?”

“Negative, Sister. All friendlies are Winchester, excepting energy weapons. We can strafe ground targets but lack any bombs or missiles.”

“Understood. Please stay on station as long as possible,” Kaufman said.

“Of course, Sister. Amir out.”

Kaufman keyed her commlink to the command channel. “Mother Superior, can you hear me?”

“Yes, child,” Sarno’s voice said, loud and true.

“If we’re going to attack, now is the time. We won’t have the benefit of air support, but there’s no enemy air to speak of either.”

“The odds will be even?”

Kaufman smiled to herself. “We’re the Little Sisters of Divine Recompense. The odds are always in our favor, because God’s on our side.”

The sound of polite chuckling echoed through the open commlink. “I have just received information that our social media targeting was successful. Mass protests have broken out across the planet, just as we had planned. Proceed with the attack, and we’ll carry the day,” Sarno replied.

“Yes, Mother Superior,” Kaufman replied. She sucked in a deep breath. “First battalion combat team, execute, execute, execute! Assault company, follow my shuttle in. The first objective is the roof!” Switching the commlink off for a moment, she leaned over to the pilot of her shuttle. “Take us in. I want to put the first boots down on this God forsaken building.”

“Yes, Sister!”

The shuttle pitched down while accelerating forward in a full power dive. Through the forward transparent metal windscreen, the clouds whipped by and were suddenly replaced by a view of the ground as they cleared the cloud layer. The air space around the shuttle was filled with dozens of other shuttles in a similar high-speed approach. Surface-to-air missiles were volleyed toward the shuttles, only to harmlessly explode thanks to ECM pods that had been mounted to the craft. Utilizing their internal mounted rockets, Kaufman watched as return fire thundered out and erased many of the Monrovian defensive positions.

The ground rushed up at the windscreen as the shuttle leveled out its flight; within fifteen seconds, it hovered to a stop over one of several parapets that lined the roof of the central government complex building that was their target. Kaufman slapped the pilot on the shoulder and vaulted out of the cockpit, landing on the cargo floor. “Let’s go, Sisters!” she shouted at the top of her lungs while simultaneously triggering the manual rear ramp control. The rest of the nuns disengaged themselves from the harnesses that held them in place and seized their battle rifles. A few seconds later when the ramp was entirely down, she led the charge.

Kaufman landed on her feet, thanks to her power armor, while her compatriots thudded onto the roof directly behind her. “Squad one, secure the nearest roof access point. Squad two, secure the LZ,” she shouted as she moved up quickly toward the door that led into the complex, battle rifle up and aimed. Her platoon was barely out of the shuttle when the door burst open, and enemy soldiers streamed out.

Kaufman put a burst of stun rounds into the first soldier in her sights, and the squad she’d assigned to cover the door formed a firing line, and they shot down close to twenty soldiers before they quit emerging. “This is Sister Kaufman. I need two more platoons on my position, now,” she shouted into her commlink.

Not waiting for a response, she moved forward toward the door when power-armored Monrovians stepped out, firing on full automatic from weapons she instantly identified as League of Sol issued battle rifles. The report of that weapon is etched into my mind for as long as I draw breath in this universe. “Take cover, Sisters!”

Many stun rounds smacked into the power-armored Monrovian but had no effect. Two nuns dropped as the entire squad made a mad dash to a line of air-conditioning units that sat in the middle of the roof. All the while, more power-armored Monrovians came out of the doorway. “Switch to armor-piercing rounds, and aim for center mass,” Kaufman commanded.

The nuns around her dropped the magazines from their rifles and reloaded with lethal bullets, while the squad that had been providing flanking cover reformed behind the same air-conditioning units. Kaufman paused to catch her breath, poking her head out long enough to view the enemy forces; nine soldiers in power armor. “Sisters, on my order, deploy from cover and eliminate the enemy!”

Counting down from three mentally, Kaufman braced herself. “Go, go, go!” she shouted at the top of her lungs while rising from a crouch, battle rifle steadied against the top of the metal housing. Drawing a bead on the nearest Monrovian to her, she fired a three-round burst directly into the center mass of the power-armored soldier. Superior CDF bullets sliced through the League power armor like a hot knife through butter. The breastplate collapsed, and the blood was visible even from ten meters away as the man collapsed in a heap. The other nuns opened up on the rest of the enemy force, felling all eight remaining men, but not before two more sisters were killed.

Kaufman didn’t have time to grieve or even acknowledge the losses as more Monrovians came out of the door. I’ll give this to them; they’re persistent. While three more power-armored soldiers emerged and engaged the nuns, a fourth stepped halfway out of the doorway as he raised a man-portable missile launcher to his shoulder. She immediately prioritized him above all other combatants, knowing that more shuttles were inbound. “SAM! Take out the one with the SAM,” she shouted while holding down the trigger of her battle rifle. The rest of her firing line joined in, and the hapless enemy stumbled as bullets slammed into his armor. At some point during the fusillade, he fell backward and accidentally triggered the firing sequence for the missile.

Kaufman stared as the scene in front of her seemed to grind to a halt and entered slow motion. The missile launcher had ended up pointed at the doorway behind him and blew out of its launching tube, flying less than two meters before slamming into the plasticrete stairwell entry point. An enormous explosion occurred as the warhead detonated and incinerated the body of the soldier who had carried it, along with the rest of the Monrovians near him.

One of the younger nuns near Kaufman glanced over at her. “That was one heck of a shot, Sister.”

Kaufman, in turn, made the sign of the cross. “Remember its cost,” she said, standing up. “Close in and secure that access point, Sisters! We’re taking this building and holding its occupants to account for the evil they have committed against their citizens and God himself!”

A ragged cheer went up from the remaining nuns, and they rushed forward. Kaufman noted with satisfaction and pride that despite the losses suffered, they were fighting as hard as anyone could ask. The roar of another shuttle assuming a hover position announced the arrival of reinforcements, and she walked across the roof to personally assess the stairwell. Peering down, she could see more Monrovians amassing at its base, what had to be ten to fifteen stories down.

“All right, Sisters, the good news is we own the high ground. The bad news is the enemy has great strength below us. We’re going to charge down into that mess and take the fight to them. Who’s with me?”

“We are!” the entire unit of nuns shouted as one with voices so loud, they could seemingly wake the dead.

“Follow me,” Kaufman shouted in reply before turning around and heading back into the stairwell.

* * *

Attwood barely dodged a piece of the ceiling as it fell to the floor in front of him. For what seemed like an eternity, the sisters had been bombarding their exterior security perimeter, and the sounds of battle raged. The guard in front of him that was trying to escort him safely to a safe room wasn’t so lucky; the man was caught in the head by a large piece of marble ceiling. Looking down at his lifeless body, Attwood pondered the cost of the entire conflict. We’re in the wrong here, we always were. Now we’re paying for our crimes. Either I can do something about it, or I can keep hiding and die for nothing. Shell-shocked as he took in the sight of civilians fleeing for their lives, screaming as they went, he reached down and picked up the fallen officer’s sidearm, and turned around—heading further into the complex and toward the command and control center for the Monrovian military.

Struggling to remember the way, he found his destination thanks to the military police standing guard outside. “Halt!” a smartly dressed young soldier said.

Attwood quickly showed his hands. “I’m Deputy Prime Minister Martin Attwood, Private. Please, I need to get into the command center.”

The young man recognized Attwood and stood aside. “Of course, sir. Where’s your security detail, sir?”

Attwood shook his head. “They didn’t make it.”

The soldier looked troubled as Attwood put his palm down on the scanner and the door swung open after the system accepted his identity. Walking through the doorway, he took in the scene of chaos before him. Military officers stood behind their stations, watching video feeds and computer displays. Orders were shouted into the communications systems, and judging by what he could make out on the command and control plot shown on a large screen in the middle of the room, the National Guard was being pushed back at all points of engagement.

“Deputy Prime Minister, we’re a bit busy here,” the deep voice of the general that was promoted to lead the Monrovian military after Monahan had shown his true colors intoned.

“I’ll only take a few minutes of your time, General Shriver.”

“What can I do for you?”

“You can tell me what the situation is,” Attwood replied. Before the general could respond, he added, “The real situation. Not the one sugar-coated for Fitzroy.”

Shriver’s mask of control seemed to fade away as he looked at Attwood. “We lost our air assets fifteen minutes ago. The CSV Lion of Judah is in orbit, and she took out every League 6th generation fighter we had on both bases. The enemy fighter craft eliminated the few we had in the air. They now have complete air supremacy over our capital. Sending our outdated interceptors at them would be nothing more than suicide for the pilots.”

“I suppose that explains the frontal attack on government central.”

“Yes. With direct air support, they’ve been able to land troops all over the complex. They know exactly what they’re doing, Mr. Attwood. Coupled with the mass protests occurring all over our major cities that have divided our forces and prevent us from bringing in significant reinforcements without causing massive civilian casualties… I give us another two hours of resistance before they kill or neutralize everyone in their way.”

“Do we have any military options left?”

“Aside from wholesale slaughter of citizens, dropping strategic weapons on our cities, or receiving reinforcements from the League of Sol… no.”

“Then what are we still doing here?”

“Prime Minister Fitzroy told us to fight. That’s all we can do.”

This is either going to be like a lightbulb going on in their heads, or I’m going to get shot. “What if the prime minister… was no longer the prime minister?”

Shriver stopped and turned to face Attwood, looking him square in the eyes. “Are you proposing a coup?”

“I’m proposing that we remove the prime minister from her post for gross dereliction of duty. I’ve spoken to the shadow ministers, the backbenchers, and most of the major portfolio ministers. All agree that decisive action must be taken now.” That’s not exactly true, but it sounds good.

“If you have the political leaders behind you, why do you need the military?”

“Because Fitzroy has drawn her power from the military for the last year. Without your express support, she won’t see reason and step aside.”

“What’s your plan?” Shriver asked bluntly.

“You come with me, along with a few soldiers. I will try to get some MMPs,” he began, using the acronym for Member of Monrovian Parliament, “who haven’t fled or been otherwise incapacitated yet, to join us. We will all enter together, and I will persuade her to resign for the good of the planet. Then we announce an unconditional surrender to the sisters and negotiate a peace.”

Attwood watched as he could almost see the gears in Shriver’s head turning. This guy is far too transparent to ever play poker, he thought. Finally, the general spoke. “Do you realize what you’re suggesting could be construed as treason and get us all shot?”

“Throwing our soldiers at an enemy they can’t defeat is unconscionable. Not to mention, we’re on the wrong side of this, morally,” Attwood replied. Several people in the room stopped what they were doing and turned to look at him. I hope that’s the realization in them that someone in power believes what many of us know to be true.

“Okay, Deputy Prime Minister Attwood,” Shriver said, as if reciting his title would make what they were planning okay. “You’ve got the backing of the Monrovian National Guard. Major Jefferson!”

“Yes, sir!” a dark-skinned, pudgy man shouted from across the room.

“Assemble a tactical team. We’re shipping out with Mr. Attwood.”

34

Bullets whipped around Sarno’s power armor as she and several nuns that made up her headquarters element made their way toward Kaufman’s assault squad. She had made it clear that she didn’t want her Mother Superior in harm’s way, but Sarno would have none of it. The battle had raged around them for the better part of an hour, with the nuns making steady progress. Eventually, though, they came up against heavily entrenched Monrovian positions that refused to retreat.

“We’re taking significant casualties, Mother Superior,” Kaufman said, stepping back from the firing line. “Over two hundred sisters have fallen in battle so far.”

Sarno frowned inside of her helmet. “Such loss of life is a tragedy.”

“The Monrovians are using armor-piercing ammunition of League manufacture. It’s punching through our power armor if it hits head on.”

“We’ll have to increase the lethality of our actions,” Sarno concluded.

“I agree. I wish you would retire to the rear, Mother Superior. You’ll do no good for the order if you perish.”

“If it’s my time to go, child, then it’s my time. When I was in the TCMC, I detested officers who led from behind and seemingly never exposed themselves to hostile forces. I’d be a hypocrite if I did the same thing now.”

Kaufman shook her head and smiled. “You’re one stubborn woman.”

“Takes one to know one, Sister Kaufman.”

Sarno walked over to the mobile ammunition dump they’d brought with them; also included were some cargo containers that held other weapons. She punched in her access code, opened one, and hefted a grenade launcher. “Sister Kaufman, authorize the use of fragmentation and plasma grenades by sisters that are pinned down. The enemy strongpoint in front of us; what’s its makeup?”

“They’ve got several squad automatic weapons in there, and a 40mm cannon on a tripod that’s already taken out three power-armored sisters. We’re exchanging long-range fire with them, as a frontal assault seemed likely to produce significant losses on our side,” Kaufman replied.

“Deploy two grenade launchers. I’ll personally lead this assault.”

Kaufman popped up the faceplate of her helmet so that her facial expression was visible; blood red and her eyes flashing. “Mother Superior, you can’t risk your life here! We will carry the day, but our order must retain its leader.”

“Child, I understand your feelings. The order is greater than any single nun. It is greater than me. There was a leader before me, and there’ll be one after me. Most likely you someday. Today, I insist on doing my part and being at the front.”

“Yes, Mother Superior,” Kaufman replied, clearly forcing down her own emotions.

Sarno picked up a large mini-gun from the open cargo container. “I believe this will do nicely.” She locked the weapon into her power-armored suit as it was designed to be mounted on shuttles, or a fully power-armor encased soldier, seeing as it weighed over two hundred kilograms. Triggering the button to spin up the barrel, she confirmed it was in good working order.

Kaufman passed the grenade launchers out to two other power-armored sisters, who loaded them with high explosive grenades while Sarno crouched behind the makeshift barricade they’d erected.

“Sisters,” Sarno shouted through the local commlink, gaining everyone’s attention. “The people we are fighting know that they’re on the wrong side of history. Some may fervently believe in their cause, but their number is few. If we can shatter them here and gain entrance to this most protected of buildings that house their leaders, we’ll prevail in one fell swoop. Stand behind me and press forward, no matter the cost!”

With a rousing shout, the nuns, led by Sarno and Kaufman, charged over the barricade, firing on full automatic from their battle rifles.

Sarno’s mini-gun spun up, and she unleashed a withering barrage of projectiles down the hallway, sweeping aside soldiers, desks, and tables they had hurriedly thrown up for protection, and blasting the power-armored soldier that operated his heavy weapon from the cannon’s perch.

“Press forward!” Kaufman shouted, putting well-placed three-round bursts on target and felling multiple Monrovians.

“Stop for nothing, Sisters!” Sarno shouted into her commlink.

The Monrovians, shocked by the appearance of heavy weapons and grenades exploding around them, first began to fall back in good order and then gave way to a rout. Men and women tossed aside their guns and ran away as fast as their feet would carry them, some with their hands raised, others merely running for their lives.

“We’ve got them on the run, Mother Superior,” Kaufman said excitedly, the infectious feeling of victory close at hand. “Now please allow us to finish this. Stay here with the HQ unit, and we’ll update you on our progress.”

The other nuns around them began to chant, “Mother Superior to the rear! Mother Superior to the rear!”

Giving in to their pleadings, Sarno raised her hand in defeat. “I’ll remain here. But you must now press the advantage. We’ve broken them in this sector. Push forward and consolidate our gains before they regroup! Onward, Sisters!”

* * *

The four protective service agents that guarded the prime minister’s office stood as a human shield in front of the door, guns raised and aimed at the contingent of Monrovian troops led by General Shriver and Attwood. Attwood was inwardly shaking in his boots; chatter over the commlinks as they made their way through the government complex told them that the sisters had gained the advantage and were pressing forward on all fronts.

“Gentlemen, please step aside,” Attwood said from behind the soldiers.

“Prime Minister Fitzroy has ordered us not to admit anyone, Mister Attwood. I’m sorry, but you must turn back. We’ll use whatever force is required to defend the prime minister,” the agent who Attwood assumed was in charge stated.

“There’s no reason for more bloodshed here. Most of the parliament is in favor of removing the prime minister, and we’re engaged in a war we can’t win. Please, step aside and let us try to reason with her. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to die today.”

The agents exchanged glances with one another. “That’s the deputy PM and the general in charge of the National Guard. Who are we to tell them they can’t go in?” one of the agents said to the one in charge.

“We swore an oath to protect the prime minister,” he insisted.

“You swore an oath to protect the office of the prime minister, actually,” Attwood replied, finding confidence from some well deep within himself. “Colleen Fitzroy happens to occupy that office for the moment. Once we speak with her, she will no longer. Your duty is to the constitution and the people of Monrovia. For the last time, step aside.”

The agents again looked at one another, but this time, two of them lowered their weapons, holstered them, and stepped out of the way. The lead agent, swearing under his breath, slowly lowered his firearm. “Fine. We couldn’t have stopped you anyway,” he said, as if justifying his actions.

The soldiers quickly manhandled them out of the way, and Attwood rapped on the door to the inner office. “Prime Minister!” he shouted through the door. “We know you're in there! Open the door!”

“Blow the door,” Shriver interjected. “We don’t have time for this.”

Attwood scurried out of the way as a tall female soldier unwrapped a strip of detcord and affixed it to the door frame. They stepped back, and she shouted, “Fire in the hole!” A moment later, the explosive rope detonated with a loud thud; the door fell in a cloud of smoke.

General Shriver was the first one through the smoking doorframe, followed slowly by several soldiers and Attwood. Fitzroy stood defiantly behind her desk, her face smeared with soot, and a pistol in her hands, held in a shooter’s stance. “Not one more step, you traitors!”

“Colleen, let’s be reasonable about this,” Attwood said.

“You little weasel,” Fitzroy shouted. “You stabbed me in the back while an invader is overthrowing our government! I should have you all killed.”

“Put down the gun, Madam Prime Minister,” Attwood said, trying out a more formal tone. “There’s no need for more bloodshed today. Parliament no longer has confidence in your ability to discharge your office. Nor do I. For the betterment of our people, you must step down. Do it now of your own accord, and you can be remembered for making a noble sacrifice.”

“Marty, you’re so full of it. I know what’s going on here; you’re going to make me a scapegoat. You’ll tell them all it was my idea, and let the sisters hang me. I go down, you’re all going down with me.”

“I’ve accepted that I’m… going down, as you put it, Colleen. I should’ve done something sooner. I should’ve manned up sooner, regardless of the cost to my fortunes. I’ll go to my grave with that regret.”

“General Shriver, I am ordering you to arrest the deputy prime minister,” Fitzroy yelled angrily.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but I can’t obey your order as I don’t find it lawful. The deputy prime minister is right. This must stop. My men and women are dying by the hundreds to defend this complex in a hopeless defense. We’ll soon be overrun. I’m going to act to save as many lives as we can. The sisters have promised to treat anyone who surrenders with dignity, according to the Terran Coalition rules of warfare. Please put your weapon down and put your hands in the air.”

“Oh, screw all of you,” Fitzroy replied as she put the gun under her chin.

“No, Colleen!” Attwood shouted at the top of his lungs as she pulled the trigger. He closed his eyes and turned away, not wanting to see what happened. When he looked again, she had collapsed in a heap, and there was a large blood stain on the wall, directly behind where she had been standing. He staggered over to where she lay and looked down at the body. “Damnit, Colleen, there was a better way.”

Shriver walked up behind Attwood and put his hand on his shoulder. “We’ve got a job to do, Prime Minister,” he said. “There’s time to grieve later.”

Attwood nodded as he stood up. “Do you have your command authorization codes on you?”

“Yes, sir,” Shriver replied.

Attwood stepped over Fitzroy’s body and behind the desk, accessing the computer terminal sitting atop it. He biometrically logged in to the primary system and selected the emergency override system for national emergencies. The system allowed the prime minister to communicate with any electronic device, computer, tablet, commlink, or vidlink on the planet and overrode any other communication in progress. After entering his credentials into the application, it prompted for a counter-authentication from a high-level military officer. “Please enter your authorization code, General,” Attwood said, gesturing to the screen.

Shriver leaned over and typed in a long alpha-numeric string, and finished by pressing the enter key. A few seconds later, the system’s broadcast control screen popped up, and Attwood sat in the center of the field observed by the built-in camera on the monitor. He then pressed the button to begin transmitting.

“My fellow citizens, this is acting Prime Minister Martin Attwood. I come to you this afternoon from our main governmental complex, which as most of you may know, is under siege by the same force that invaded our planet several days ago. This message is intended not only for our citizens but for the leaders of this force, the Little Sisters of Divine Recompense. The Monrovian National Guard is in an untenable situation. We are fighting a losing battle against a superior enemy, and an enemy, I am ashamed to say, is in the right. For the last nine months, our government has engaged in a campaign to rid our planet of people who profess a belief in a higher power. We have betrayed our ideals and became the monsters we left Earth to escape. I stand before you today, guilty as charged by the Little Sisters. At this point, there is only one logical course of action left to us, and that is unconditional surrender. I now call on all members of the Monrovian National Guard to cease fire and lay down your weapons. In exchange, I ask that the Little Sisters treat our prisoners with respect and dignity and cease all active combat actions. I also invite the leadership of their order, as well as the CDF personnel on our planet, to meet with me as soon as possible to discuss further terms. To any armed citizens that would continue to resist… I ask you also to lay down your arms. Further combat is futile, we will not win, and further loss of life beyond all of the souls that have already perished would be needlessly tragic.”

Attwood closed his eyes for a moment, then resumed his monologue. “We must hold ourselves accountable for what has happened on this world. That collectively goes for all of us, and it starts with me. For now, stay in your homes and await further instructions. This is acting Prime Minister Martin Attwood, signing off.”

Attwood flipped off the system, leaving the screen blank. Shriver looked down at him. “Now what, sir?”

“Now, we wait. I would expect we’ll be hearing from the nuns quite soon.”

35

Calvin sent a burst of rifle fire down a corridor in the third level basement of the black site, felling another guard, of which there always seemed to be another jumping out to shoot at them. Where are they getting all this manpower? “Clear!” Maybe it’s because we keep stunning people and not putting them down for good.

Simone and the group of nuns and civilians with them cautiously moved up, with Calvin taking point. They came to a four-way junction in the corridor that extended for dozens of meters in each direction. “According to the plans, this is where they keep the high-value targets,” Simone said, looking down one of the corridors.

“Yeah, but there are dozens of cells. We need to spread out and search them.”

As he was talking, yet another group of Monrovian soldiers came into view at the end of one of the corridors, saw them, snapped up their rifles, and started shooting. Bullets slammed into the walls and ceiling around them, and a few shots hit Calvin dead center in his power armor, which thankfully blocked the impacts. He brought up his rifle and sighted down on the enemy, sending three-round bursts in their direction; after two soldiers dropped, the other three scurried out of the line of fire and kept up blindly shooting at them from the other side of a corner.

Calvin gingerly touched his midsection, the pain of the hits getting the better of him. “I’m getting really tired of these guys.”

* * *

Meanwhile, David could hear the sounds of combat from the room he was being “questioned” in. His ears perked up when he heard the unmistakable report of multiple CDF battle rifles. “Looks like your time is up,” he said to the interrogator.

That barb got him another wave of pain searing through his body. “I think not, Colonel Cohen. You will be here with me for a long time. Oh, your friends might be trying to storm the building, but I welcome the attempt,” the interrogator said with a smile that made David’s skin crawl. “That way, I will have additional subjects to talk to. As I’ve told you, I do enjoy my work.”

“You know, you’re one sick SOB,” David replied, his voice hoarse and broken. Again, pain swept through his body, causing him to shake and go into convulsions.

“Now what can you tell me about the Lion of Judah and its propulsion system?”

“It’s better than yours.” Despite knowing more pain was on the way, David was buoyed by the sounds of fighting and chose to believe that rescue was at hand.

“In ways, I admire you, Colonel Cohen,” the interrogator said. “You’ve proven to be very able to resist questioning, so far. But I promise you, I will continue to wear you down and crush your ability to fight me. Eventually, you’ll see the error of your ways and embrace the way of the League.”

“I’d rather die.”

“I’ll be happy to arrange that at a later time. For now, though, we’ll continue. You need to ask yourself… where is your so-called God now?” the man asked with a nasty grin.

Suddenly, the door to the room blew off its hinges and fell to the ground, while smoke poured in. David saw the interrogator reach for his sidearm, but a three-round burst hit him center mass before it cleared the holster. The man slumped to the ground, moaning. Calvin and Simone appeared at David’s side, while another nun kicked the gun away from the fallen Leaguer.

David coughed while he looked the interrogator in the eyes. “You’ll get to meet Him real soon.”

Calvin shook David’s arm. “You okay, buddy?” Calvin asked.

David nodded his head. “Still here,” he said while gasping for breath. “A bit sore too.”

“Yeah, you look like a few miles of bad road. I think you need a vacation,” Calvin said with levity in his voice.

“This is a pain chair,” Simone interjected, looking over the metal chair David was strapped in to, which was bolted to the floor.

“I’ve heard of those,” Calvin replied, shaking his head. “I’ve also heard the agony they cause is nearly unbearable.”

“Yeah, I can attest to that. It feels like every part of your body is being ripped off,” David said while wheezing. “Think you guys could get me out of this thing?”

Simone retrieved the controller from where it had fallen on the floor and examined the device. “I need the passphrase to unlock it,” she said and looked over at the fallen interrogator.

“I’ll never help you,” he said before the question was asked, blood leaking out of his mouth. “I’d rather die.”

“Screw this,” Calvin said, shoving Simone to one side and pulling out a laser cutter. “Stay real still, Colonel, I’ll have you out in no time.”

“Try not to cut my arms off,” David said with a faint smile, trying to stay positive.

Calvin knelt down and very carefully seared the metal bonds that held David in place with the laser; as it moved from arm to arm, then to his legs, the bonds fell away in short order.

“Can you stand?” Calvin asked.

“Maybe,” David replied, pushing off and trying to stand up. His first attempt failed, then he tried again and made it. He held on to the chair to keep his balance, as everything was wobbly. Taking a few seconds and steadying himself, he then stood back from the chair. “Not sure how far I can walk.”

Calvin drew his sidearm and handed it to David. “I’m sure we’re going to run into some opposition on the way out. Though, if you’d like to finish things off in here, we can step out and let you take care of business.”

David took the pistol in his right hand and let it fall to his side. I might get a momentary flush of triumph from shooting this man and watching him die, but I’ll remember it the rest of my life and know I did something monstrous. “No. No extra-judicial punishments today,” David replied, then glanced over at the interrogator.

“Don’t have the balls to kill me, Colonel Cohen?” the man spat.

David slowly staggered to where he lay, having to rely on Calvin helping him to walk as he did. “No. I’m not going to kill an unarmed man.”

“Afraid God will punish you?”

“No… I don’t want to fail my creator. He created us with the ability to determine right from wrong. Something might have gone screwy with the League’s ability to choose, but not mine.”

“I can see it in your eyes, Colonel. You’d love nothing more than to kill me. You hate me.”

David slowly knelt next to the Leaguer. “I don’t hate you. Above all, I pity you. Your entire life is dedicated to violence, torture, killing… you know nothing else. I fight because I have to, because our way of life is something worth defending. You fight because you’re programmed to. When you meet your maker in the next few minutes from those wounds, it’s very probable he’ll cast you out. To me, that’s a fate worse than death.”

The interrogator’s mouth twisted into a snarl. “There is no God. Your victory here is meaningless, and the League will eventually triumph!”

David shrugged. “I don’t think so.”

Simone walked over and knelt beside David; she held a medical diagnostic tool, which she used to scan the wounded man. Calvin snorted from behind them both. “He’s not worth your time, Sister. Let’s get out of here and head back to the shuttles. I just got word on the commlink we rescued two of the nuns. The third one didn’t make it, but we’ve recovered her body.”

Simone glanced up at him. “None of us are worth God’s time, yet He continues to give it to us. Can we do any less to our fellow humans?”

Calvin shook his head. “You’re a better person than I’ll ever be, Sister. I’ll guard the door, so I can resist the temptation to blow this guy’s brains out and call it a day.”

“Your friend is hard,” the Leaguer said, coughing up blood. “I’m surprised to find a few of you that can be strong when required.”

Simone finished with the device and stared into the Leaguer’s eyes. “I’m sorry, there’s nothing more I can do for you. I don’t have the right tools to save your life, though I would in an instant if I could. What I can do is pray for your soul, so that before death, you might yet be saved. Would you bow your head with me?”

The Leaguer rewarded her words by spitting in her face. “Never.” A few seconds later, his breathing slowed and became ragged, then stopped entirely.

David stood up and steadied himself on the wall. “You did everything you could.”

“Was it enough?”

“It was by my judgment. But mine isn’t what counts in the end,” David said with a trace of a smile before doubling over coughing. “I hate to ask, but would you help me up, Sister?”

Simone stood and reached down with her armored gauntlet, effortlessly helping him stand with the assist of her power armor. “No problem, Colonel. I can carry you out if you’d like.”

“If it’s all the same, I’d like to try to walk out of here. If nothing else, I need to do it so I can say to myself that I triumphed in some way over this place.”

Simone nodded her understanding. “I get it.” Together, with David limping along, they made it to the door before David looked back. “Let’s get out of here. Enough death for one day.”

“Those who live by the sword…die by the sword,” Simone replied.

“Amen to that,” Calvin replied. “Or in our case, die by TCMC battle rifle. Here, let me help too, Colonel. You stay between us; we’ll get out you out of here in no time.”

“Thanks, Cal,” David said in reply, putting his other arm around Calvin’s power armor. The three of them made their way down the corridor back toward the elevator to the surface. I came so close to death here. But my friends came through for me again, one more time. I thank God for them.

36

David had insisted on being hauled into the shuttle’s cockpit despite his injuries. Flanked by Simone and the pilot of the craft, with Calvin taking a jump seat, his right leg flared in pain as the G-force from liftoff affected them. Glancing at Simone’s blood- and dirt-smeared face, he was moved to speak. “Sister, I must again thank you for saving me.”

“We don’t leave our own behind,” Simone insisted. “There’s no way I was abandoning my sisters or you to be tortured by some godless Leaguer.”

“Don’t go getting all soft on me,” Calvin said. “It’s hard enough to break in one fleet officer. I just didn’t want to have to do it again.”

David rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “I see through all that bluster, you know. For what it’s worth, I’d come back for you or anyone else that was captured, regardless of the cost.”

Calvin pursed his lips together. “I know you would. In the end, we fight for the people next to us.”

“Amen,” Simone interjected.

“Where is the rest of your army?” David asked, trying to focus on something besides the horror of what he had endured the last thirty-six hours.

“They’re attacking the main Monrovian government complex. The last I heard, we were carrying the day.”

David let his head drop as another wave of pain swept over his body. His head felt like it was ringing inside of a bell, and he focused on just not crying out. “David, are you okay?” Simone asked him, her voice full of concern.

“I’ll be fine.”

The shuttle flight continued, and little was said; sometimes, David reflected, after intense combat, no one wanted to talk. There is something to just being thankful I’m still alive. Simone’s ever-chipper voice interrupted his quiet time. “Colonel, Mother Superior wants to talk to you.”

“Could you put her on the speaker? I can’t do a headset at the moment,” David replied, forcing his eyes open as he glanced at Simone.

“Of course,” Simone replied as she reached over and manipulated the communication controls. “I think we’re patched in now.”

“Mother Superior, this is David Cohen. Can you hear me?” David rasped out.

“Yes, I can hear you loud and clear. I’m so glad to hear your voice again. We’re all worried about you,” came the sound of Sarno’s voice through the poor-quality speaker in the shuttle’s cockpit.

“Thanks to the efforts of Sister Darzi and her team, the prisoners are safe and sound. Well, excepting the one that the Leaguers executed. The interrogator is dead, so unfortunately, we can’t put him on trial and then execute him properly,” David said, bitterness and hate swelling to the surface despite his attempts to suppress them. Any man that would kill an unarmed prisoner, especially a woman, doesn’t deserve to live, one side of him thought. Vengeance is mine, says the Lord, I shall repay, the other side thundered back. I have to learn better to let it go… it’s just so hard.

“There has been a development here, Colonel Cohen. I need you to come to the government complex as soon as possible.”

“With respect, Mother Superior, I don’t think I’m any good to you as a combatant right now. I can’t even walk.”

“A few things have changed, child. The acting Monrovian prime minister has surrendered, along with their entire military. We’re mopping up the last diehard holdouts.”

Relief, surprise, and shock coursed through David’s mind as his face morphed from a look of grim determination to his jaw dropping open. “That’s…incredible,” he stammered, not quite able to believe it.

“It’s the will of God,” Sarno replied through the commlink. “I need you to join me in meeting with the acting PM. You are the ranking member of the Coalition Defense Force on site, and by extension, the closest thing to a representative of the Terran Coalition’s government.”

Well, it sounds like a good a reason as any to divert. I can get medical attention later. “We’ll head that way now, Mother Superior.”

“Thank you, Colonel.”

“Do you have medical personnel on site, Mother Superior?” Simone interjected. “Colonel Cohen suffered a significant injury and needs treatment.”

“I’m fine,” David began to protest before Simone shook her head sharply, cutting him off.

“Yes, child. We have a full triage tent, and Dr. Tural is here tending to the most seriously wounded.”

“Thank you, Mother Superior. We will be there shortly.”

The commlink cut off, leaving the shuttle cockpit in silence, at least momentarily until Calvin started in. “Well, I’ll be damned. The little sissies couldn’t handle fighting a real war, so they gave up.”

“They fought against a better-equipped foe for a considerable period of time,” David replied.

“You can’t have any sympathy for them, sir,” Calvin said with a scowl.

“Maybe not sympathy, but I’ll offer some basic battlefield respect to anyone, soldier—civilian, man, or woman—that’s got the guts to pick up a weapon and put themselves in the line of fire. I don’t care how you slice it or what they’re fighting for… that takes some courage.”

“We’ll have to agree to disagree, Colonel,” Calvin finally said, his jaw set and voice tight.

“I see where you’re both coming from,” Simone said, causing both men to turn in her direction. “They fight for the wrong reasons, but they do have the guts to fight. I would bet that most of them believe they’re simply defending their planet from an invader. I doubt that it’s widely known what those camps truly were. I can’t believe that most people would choose to do evil in such a horrific manner, or to support it.”

“Don’t buy into that crap, Sister. The average Monrovian soldier might not know exactly what’s going on in those camps, but there’s no way they didn’t know something was wrong. There’s no way the people who’ve reported their friends and coworkers to the secret police don’t know they did something horrible,” Calvin said, his eyes flashing.

“I’m sure they know it’s screwed up, but I suspect most of them are just trying to survive one more day and direct suspicion onto someone else. That’s the horrible end result of totalitarian police states. When they can’t arrest enough people, they manufacture more criminals because they need people to break the law. In that way, the populations can be controlled,” David said quietly.

“It doesn’t absolve them of guilt for what they did,” Calvin insisted. “You said it yourself… just following orders isn’t a defense.”

“No, it’s not. But don’t you ever wonder what would happen if we had been born in the League of Sol? The sad truth is we would have likely grown up to be the very thing we now fight and detest.”

Simone nodded her agreement with David, but Calvin seemed all the more annoyed. “That Leaguer get into your head or something, Colonel? The only good Leaguer…” Calvin said.

“…is a dead Leaguer,” David finished for him. “Yes, I know that saying. Maybe a brush with death has caused me to examine my motives further, Cal. All I’m saying is we have to be careful not to go around on our high horse judging everybody.” Of course, I did suggest it would be a good idea to execute the interrogator. Emotions around combat are such a fickle thing. He fought to keep them in check and remain true to his values.

“I think what Colonel Cohen is trying to say,” Simone said in a tone that belied her unease at the debate between the two men, “is that when we look at our enemy, we must remember that for the grace of God, there goes us.”

David nodded. “That sums it up perfectly, Sister.”

“I will never end up like a damn Leaguer,” Calvin replied with a dour expression.

“Okay, enough of that,” David said. “We’re on our way to accept the Monrovians’ surrender. For all intents and purposes, we’ve won. That’s something to celebrate, right?”

“Anyone got some whiskey in here?” Calvin asked, breaking into a big smirk. “We need some shots.”

Simone rolled her eyes and turned around to stare at her console. “You’re quite the character, Colonel Demood.”

“What can I say, Marines get the job done. Hoorah!”

David remained silent, instead focusing on the events of the last few days. For the life of me, I don’t understand why a dying man would spit in the face of a nun who offered to pray with him. At that point, who cares? It just might give some peace in those final moments. God, I hate this war. Someday, I hope I live long enough to see people across this galaxy stop killing each other, and if we’re unable to live in harmony, at least live in peace.

* * *

Walking painfully with a cane, David moved slowly down the hallway in the Monrovian government building they were headed to the meet now prime minister of the planet, Martin Attwood. Flanked by Mother Superior Sarno and Calvin, David’s injuries forced them to keep a slow pace. “I’m sorry I’m holding you all up,” David said, annoyed at his frailty.

“I could always get you a wheelchair, Colonel,” Calvin said in a joking tone.

“Out of respect to those who truly need that form of transport, I’ll walk since I am able. Besides, Dr. Tural said I should walk it off.”

“Uh-huh. I don’t think Tural would say that. A real Marine Corps doctor? Yeah. He’d prescribe push-ups.”

Out of the corner of his left eye, David caught Sarno rolling her eyes; at last, they made it to the richly decorated and ornate wood door to the PM’s office. Calvin opened it up, and they saw several sisters guarding the room while a nervous-looking man sat behind the desk. There was a bloodstain on the wall behind him; he wondered what that was all about.

The man behind the desk stood as David walked in. “Colonel Cohen, I presume?”

“Mr. Attwood,” David replied as he made his way into the room slowly.

Attwood stood from the desk and met David, holding out his hand.

David stared at the hand for several seconds before shaking it, a solemn expression on his face. “Mother Superior Sarno,” David said, gesturing to Sarno.

Attwood stuck out his hand to her, and they shook as well.

“Colonel Calvin Demood, Terran Coalition Marine Corps,” David said, turning toward Calvin.

When Attwood turned and tried to shake Calvin’s hand, he simply ignored it. After more than a few seconds of awkward pause, Attwood got the hint and walked back behind the desk. “Please sit down and make yourselves comfortable.”

Once Sarno had taken a seat, making sure her long robes were appropriately tucked under her, David sat. Calvin remained standing, looking like a hulking figure who was spoiling for a fight.

“You asked us here under a flag of truce after unconditional surrender, Mr. Attwood. Now…what do you want?” David asked directly.

“I realize you have no reason to trust me, Colonel Cohen. I appreciate that.”

“You appreciate that?” David shot back, his voice still hoarse. “Let me tell you what I appreciate. The last two days, I was tortured in a Monrovian prison facility. I saw a fellow POW shot in the head by a League interrogator, a Leaguer that your government invited here and sanctioned. Before I was captured, I saw the camps where your government tortured and executed God knows how many people,” he said, his voice finding purpose and growing in strength as he continued to speak.

“There’s no apology I can make that is adequate, Colonel,” Attwood began before David cut him off.

“You don’t need to apologize to me. You need to apologize to the survivors of those camps. To the families whose loved ones were machine-gunned or gassed before being dumped into mass graves. I got off easy. They didn’t. How many did your government kill? Ten thousand? A hundred thousand? Several hundred thousand?”

Attwood looked visibly ill and glanced away from David’s rage-flushed face.

“Don’t you dare look away from me, Mr. Attwood!” His eyes bored into the man sitting across from him. “How many?” David shouted at the top of his lungs.

“I don’t know. At least several hundred thousand.”

“And now what, you expect to just say sorry and keep on as the leader of your planet and continue your political career?”

“Not in the least,” Attwood replied, and for the first time, David saw a spark of something that looked like remorse behind his eyes. “I was weak, and I was a coward. I’m not the right person to lead Monrovia out of the abyss it’s in. I only hope to keep it functioning until we can find that person.”

David leaned back in his seat. “Go on.”

“The first thing we have to do, after closing the camps, of course, is to begin a wide-ranging investigation of how this occurred.”

“It occurred when your government decided that killing people who disagreed with others’ positions on matters of faith was a good idea,” David shot back.

“It didn’t start out here, Colonel,” Attwood said while shaking his head. “I never meant for this to happen. I don’t think any of us did. We took one step down the road, thinking if we just had a little more power, we could help our planet. Then we decided that joining the League was the way to ensure our continued existence with some level of autonomy. One step led to another, then to another. Each compromise became easier, and when it finally came time to open up camps and round up our citizens… friends… families,” his voice trailed off for a moment, and emotion overtook his face, “no one had the guts to say no. I will go to my grave regretting that I didn’t stand up and say no, even though it would have meant my death.”

Maybe he is ashamed. Hard to believe that he wouldn’t be after being brought face to face with the reality of what his government did. “If you’re looking for sympathy, you won’t find it here.”

“I’m not looking for your sympathy, Colonel. Just your help. As the ranking member of the Coalition Defense Force on this planet, I’d like you to get your government to send in a peace-keeping force as soon as possible. The Monrovian National Guard must be disbanded immediately, along with our paramilitary police units. Honestly, our entire law enforcement structure needs to be rebuilt from the ground up. Until we can do that, can the Little Sisters of Divine Recompense and the Lion of Judah stay on station?”

“I can’t speak for the Mother Superior, but the Lion is unlikely to be able to stay long. There’s a war to fight,” David said, before glancing at Sarno. “What about the sisters?”

“I can keep our current forces on the planet until CDF reinforcements arrive, Colonel Cohen,” the older nun replied in her normal taciturn tone.

“Thank you, Mother Superior,” Attwood said. “Any assistance from the Terran Coalition would be welcome.”

“What about the people who participated in the bloodshed? There must be justice,” David interjected.

“I’d like an outside entity, perhaps a joint effort between the Terran Coalition and the Organization of Non-Aligned Planets, to investigate and bring charges against anyone who participated in, organized, carried out, or in any way supported the actions of our recent government,” Attwood replied.

“Does that include you?”

“As soon as I can identify a successor, yes, it does. I will plead guilty and accept whatever punishment is handed out.”

David stared at Attwood for a moment, taking in his statement. “That’s a start,” he finally said. “I would expect this investigation to also look into terrorist activities by religious groups as well. General Monahan and those who planned and carried out suicide attacks that claimed innocent lives must face justice.”

“I appreciate that sentiment, Colonel.”

“I apply my ethics evenly in every way that I can, Mr. Attwood.”

“It will be a very long road back for us to heal what’s happened and make everyone on Monrovia believe in the rule of law and basic freedoms again,” Attwood replied.

“I would think most of the people who were persecuted by your government will simply want to leave, no matter what you do,” Sarno said. “I’m certain that the Terran Coalition will accept them, should they wish to apply for refugee status.”

“Of course, Mother Superior. I will support whatever choice the citizens of our planet make. I want to make up for it all, somehow.”

“You don’t make up for this kind of heinous crime, Mr. Attwood,” David replied through clenched teeth. “You can work the rest of your life, and it won’t be enough.”

“I am still going to try.”

David painfully pushed himself up from the chair and looked down on Attwood. “You do that. I’ll be in touch once I speak to my superiors.”

“Of course, Colonel,” Attwood said as he stood.

Sarno also rose and faced him. “Prime Minister, I will commend you for having the right words. I hope that in time, you have the right spirit as well. True forgiveness comes not from the rest of us, but God. Think about it.”

Attwood only nodded in reply as Sarno, David, and Calvin began to walk out, slowed by David’s painful gait with the cane.

37

A few hours later, David returned to the Lion of Judah. Met by an honor guard led by Master Chief Tinetariro, he came back onboard to much fanfare. A visit to the medical ward, hot shower, and a good meal later, he found himself at least physically refreshed, and able to walk without the cane. After treatment, the physical therapist had given him a range of exercises. He was also told to visit the doctor daily to have additional procedures to his Achilles tendon to ensure it healed properly.

Finally, back behind his desk in the Lion’s CO’s day cabin, he looked through his messages and the reams of digital paperwork that had piled up in his absence. One note stood out very boldly; an email from General MacIntosh with the subject line of “VIDLINK ME NOW.”

I need to talk to him about sending additional troops to Monrovia for peacekeeping exercises anyway, so I’d better get this over with. David punched up the vidlink interface and sent a request to MacIntosh. The unsmiling face of General MacIntosh filled the screen on his table soon after. “Colonel Cohen. So nice of you to finally get in touch.”

“I’m going to go with saying that’s sarcasm, General.”

“You’re damned right it’s sarcasm, Colonel.”

“Sir, I—” David began before MacIntosh cut in.

“Stow it, Colonel.”

At the rebuke, David simply shut his mouth and sat back.

“What part of the word ‘orders’ do you not understand, son? I specifically ordered you to equip the nuns, send them on their way, and proceed at best speed to your next engagement. Instead… you turn in some bogus leave-of-absence paperwork. Several of your senior officers ended up with you on the planet, again in defiance of my orders, and you brought along a reporter!” MacIntosh yelled, then composed himself. “In what galaxy do you think you can just choose which orders you want to obey and which ones you don’t?”

“With respect, sir… I’m pretty sure that the Monrovian National Guard soldiers that participated in the religious cleansing of its citizenry will plead they were just following orders and that defense won’t be accepted.”

“Are you seriously trying to tell me that you equate executing civilians with joining an invasion of a planet?”

“What I am saying, sir, is that if one of those Monrovians had stood up and refused to go along, we would praise that man or woman as a hero. I stood up to help stop them. I have no regrets. You put me in this seat knowing that my methods are, well, unorthodox. If it costs me my career to know that millions of innocents are safe, so be it.”

“You and the president are two peas in the same damn pod,” MacIntosh groused. “I wish I had the benefit of being such a doe-eyed idealist, Colonel. But no, that’s not my job. My job is to make sure the Terran Coalition survives. Regardless of the cost, no matter what it takes. Since you’re on your moral high horse, how about we play a little game of what if. What if your unique tactical talents were needed in the battle you weren’t present for? What if Admiral Kartal needed your expertise? What if the League fleet he was facing was stronger than expected? What then, Colonel! Going off half-cocked to save civilians on a planet that’s not even in the Terran Coalition could have caused tens of thousands of CDF soldiers to pay the ultimate price!”

David wasn’t entirely sure what to make of MacIntosh’s behavior; this was the first time he’d been on the receiving end of his anger, that was for sure. “General—” he tried to say.

“I’m not finished yet, Colonel Cohen! This isn’t a game. It’s not an exercise. This war is the real thing, and it’s for keeps. I was there at the first battle of Canaan. I saw how close of a thing it was. Too many good men and women paid the ultimate price to win that battle. The next time I give you a direct order, you will obey it. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal, sir,” David replied, his jaw set and his face taut and angry.

“Now, what’s the current situation?”

“The Monrovians have surrendered, sir. A few diehard zealots are holding out, but organized resistance is over. The sisters are mopping up.”

“Good. Do you have proof that the League supplied them with arms?”

“Better than that, sir. Most of the advisors they sent along were captured alive. There’s ample proof of the League’s involvement all over the place in this mess. I expect the reporter you mentioned earlier to be broadcasting that all over the galaxy shortly.”

MacIntosh’s expression softened, just a hair. “Did they work you over too badly?”

“I’ll survive, sir,” David replied. “They used a pain chair on me… I’ll need some physical therapy for a bit and treatments on my leg. All in all, not too bad.”

“And mentally?”

“The idiot interrogating me actually thought he could shake my belief in God,” David said with a smirk. “That’ll be the day.”

“David, don’t think that I don’t respect your bravery or your drive to do what you think is right. But we’re in the military. You know that.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Anything else I should know?”

“Well, sir… the interim prime minister has requested the Terran Coalition send peacekeeping forces to help them reform their police and military. He’s also requested our help in bringing everyone connected with the death camps to trial, and eventual membership in the Terran Coalition.”

MacIntosh let out a sigh. “More troops we don’t have. Our government already anticipated that course of action. Let them know we’ll send a hundred thousand military police and garrison troops. Can the sisters hold it together until they arrive?”

“I believe so, sir. They have things well in hand, and the planet’s population is quite frankly in shock. I don’t believe most people understood what was happening. Or maybe they didn’t want to understand. They’re being forced to confront reality now, and I think most people when they look into the abyss and see a reflection of themselves… it causes some serious soul searching.”

“From someone who’s looked into that abyss once or twice, I can tell you firsthand it does.”

“What are my orders, sir?”

“Prepare to return to Canaan. Your battle damage will be repaired, and fighter losses replaced. I will also debrief you and your senior crew in person. Do not expect that to be a positive experience, Colonel,” MacIntosh said, the hard edge to his voice returning.

“Yes, sir.”

“David, I need you to understand that, while I respect your abilities, I seek to make you a better officer. You should have gotten another eight years of seasoning in which you would have made Lieutenant Colonel, served as the XO of a capital ship, and returned to school for a degree in advanced tactics before you were ever considered for O-6. I’m trying to compress all of that into on-the-job training.”

“Do you lack confidence in me, sir?”

“No. Not at all. I have to tune you up and keep you from harming yourself or the Terran Coalition with ill-timed idealist stunts. Clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Get wrapped up and get back to the barn. Godspeed, Colonel. MacIntosh out.”

* * *

In the bowels of the Lion of Judah, Angie Dinman sat in her small production office reviewing dozens of hours of footage, interviews, and notes. She stared at the tablet in front of her, where she had tried several times to create an effective and compelling introduction to the story she had to file by the end of the afternoon. Trying again, she turned on the microphone to the recording program on her tablet.

“This is Angela Dinman for GNN, reporting from the CSV Lion of Judah. Over the last several days, I have been planetside on Monrovia, watching firsthand as the Little Sisters of Divine Recompense and several officers of the Coalition Defense Force attempted to stop the tragedy that was occurring on the surface. As a reporter, it’s my job not to become personally involved nor to draw any conclusions from a story that would influence my reporting. That job is to provide an impartial view of the facts and allow you, the viewers, to draw your own conclusions. For one of the first times in my life, I have found it nearly impossible to accomplish that standard. I’ve seen things the last week I hope never to see again as long as I live. I’ve watched women, children, and men rescued from camps where they lived worse than animals, starving to death, lacking basic hygiene and medical attention. I also witnessed firsthand, the excavation of mass graves where thousands of people had been buried.”

A tear slid down Angie’s face as she continued to talk into the mic. “There are times when I believe that our military gets it wrong, and I’ll report on those times fully and honestly, because all branches of our government must be held to account. That is the basis of a strong and free society. Here, though, to those who have argued the Monrovians weren’t doing anything wrong, I challenge you to come here, see what I’ve seen, and make that same argument. As you will see with the firsthand images, analysis, and forensic reports I have amassed, what the government of this planet did was nothing short of the systematic attempt to kill every human being that believed in a higher power. Regardless of your belief set—which, for the record, I’m an agnostic—this behavior is disgusting. Make up your own mind, but this reporter will argue to anyone who will listen that the Terran Coalition didn’t go far enough. Instead of looking away while a few brave soldiers stood up and joined with a group of nuns to try to save the innocent people in these camps, they should have sent everything they had to ensure a quick military victory. Up first is a series of holoprojections taken directly from the first camp that was liberated.”

Angie switched off the mic and sat back in her chair. That was the best take yet, though it still might be too personal. It’ll work at least as a placeholder. Now let’s slide in the drone footage from the overflight and see what happens.

38

As part of the final transfer of arms and supplies to the nuns, David had traveled back down to the surface in a shuttle filled with munitions and food. General MacIntosh had authorized the transfer of what amounted to the Lion’s balance of stores for food, medical supplies, and arms to the Little Sisters with the proviso that they would be responsible for the next week or so for ensuring Monrovia avoided general unrest. Following up a request from Mother Superior Sarno, he had diverted to a detention center where many of the suspected war criminals from the Monrovian military were being housed, as well as General Monahan.

Finding himself in a visitation room, David waited for Monahan to be brought in; the general had so far refused to speak with anyone regarding who his accomplices and agents were. I guess Mother Superior wants me to get that information out of him. Something tells me that he won’t give it up quickly.

The door swung open, and a single nun stood outside the door with Monahan, gesturing inside. He stepped into the room, and his face showed surprise at seeing David. “Colonel Cohen… you’re back in uniform.”

David grimaced slightly. “That I am, General.”

“I wish my captors would use the same courtesy. I haven’t gotten a single ‘General, sir’ since I became a guest of this facility.”

“Would you care to sit down?” David asked.

Monahan eyed the table and its two chairs; sitting down across from David, he stretched his legs out, and the nun that had brought him to the room closed the door, leaving them alone.

“Now, Colonel… what can I do for you?”

“Mother Superior asked me to talk to you.”

“You mean she asked you to question me about my involvement in terrorist activities,” Monahan interjected.

“In so many words.”

“I’m not rolling on my men, Colonel.”

“They’re not your men any longer,” David observed.

“They’ll always be my men. We made a pack to defend our faith, our families, and those who couldn’t fight back from the butchers in the Monrovian government. Regardless of what it took, we’d make them pay.”

“By killing innocent civilians?”

“Innocent?” Monahan asked incredulously. “Do you think the people who voted to exterminate us are innocent? While I’m a Christian, I know the history of Jews, Colonel. I know what happened to your people back on Earth. If you had been alive during the Holocaust, would you have not tried to strike back?”

“Of course I would’ve tried to strike back,” David snapped.

“And you think you’d have taken out a few people that maybe didn’t deserve it? For that matter, are you seriously telling me that, in your career, you’ve never killed an innocent?”

David sat silent for several seconds. “No, I can’t say that, General. I’d like to believe, though, that I never targeted innocents. I’d like to believe those deaths will stick with me and guide me to make better decisions.”

“I played the hand I had. Bombings worked. We inflicted real pain.”

“Don’t you realize that by engaging in suicide bombings, you only made it easier to round up more people and execute them?”

“They would have done it anyway, Colonel. I evened up those scales. I might have even brought down the government if you guys hadn’t shown up.”

“And how many more would have died in the end?”

Monahan shrugged. “That’s for God to sort out.”

“No, it’s up to us to do the right thing. Day in, day out.”

“Maybe for you. For me… anything required to win is on the table. Victory at any cost.”

How far would I go? Could I face down defeat and opt to do the right thing overtaking more of the enemy down with me? “I don’t subscribe to that way of thinking, General. I remember the words of Marcus Aurelius. The best revenge is to be unlike them who you fight. When we stoop to the level of acting like our enemy, I believe we become our enemy. The only way to truly win is to win the moral battle within, as well as the physical battle.”

“Colonel, I’m glad you haven’t yet had to make that choice. Someday, you will. I’d be curious to know what your decision is on that day. For now, you can keep riding high on your smug morality.”

“It would go easier on you if you would provide us with names of those who engaged in civilian bombings.”

“I’ve got nothing to say on that matter. I won’t give up those who served with me. I don’t care what you do to me. Lock me up the rest of my life. I don’t care.”

David nodded. “Well, it’ll be up a tribunal set up jointly between Monrovia, the Terran Coalition, and the Organization of Non-Aligned Planets to determine what happens to you. And the rest of the war criminals here.”

“Good old Attwood’s idea of coming clean?”

“It was his idea, yes.”

“I should’ve shot that coward when I had the chance.”

“For what it’s worth, General, I think he’s sincere about wanting to make amends.”

Monahan’s eyes narrowed. “There is no way in heaven or hell to make amends for trying to wipe out millions of people in torture and gas chambers.”

David cocked his head to one side. “That’s perhaps one thing we do agree on, General.” He stood up, glancing toward the door. “I’m afraid I have to be going. I’ll let the guard know you’re ready to go back to your cell.”

“You do that, Colonel,” Monahan replied, his voice hard.

David banged on the door and waited for it to open. God, please don’t let me end up like this man. That would be a fate worse than death.

* * *

Amir jumped out of the all-terrain vehicle as it came to a stop, turning back to face the nun who had driven him to the flight line. “Thank you, Sister. I’m much obliged for your assistance.”

“My pleasure,” the younger woman said, flashing him a smile and hitting the accelerator. The vehicle took off, whisper quiet due to the electric engine.

Looking out across the flight line, eight SF-106 Phantoms remained out of the twelve they had initially given to the sisters. Almost all of them had battle damage, but Amir thought they sat there proudly, if a piece of equipment could remotely appear proud. He made his way over to the lead fighter and walked around it to find Arendse staring up into one of the engines. “Salaam ‘alaykum, Sister Arendse,” he said.

Arendse whirled around and smiled upon seeing Amir. “And also with you, Colonel Amir. I wasn’t sure if I’d get to see you before the CDF shipped everyone out.”

“Colonel Cohen is finishing up some business in the capital, as is Colonel Demood. I just wanted to come back and make sure you were okay.”

“Worried about me?”

“It was a bit touch and go there, wouldn’t you say?”

“Very. But God saw us through, that and some fancy flying. We’re in your debt for teaching us how to utilize these fighters properly and for staying with us until the very end.”

“Trust in Allah, and tie your camel to a tree,” Amir said, recounting an Arab proverb.

Arendse laughed and smiled. “I like that one. I think I’ll start using it too.”

“What now?”

“We serve as peacekeepers until relief arrives. Mother Superior told us that the Terran Coalition has agreed to send troops, so we have to keep things together until they get here.”

“I understand we’ll be transferring more fighters to your order. You’ll have twenty-four fully operational Phantoms once they get here.”

“What about spare parts?”

“I’ll make sure we send some of the more difficult to source parts over,” Amir replied. “I’m going to try to get you a couple of simulator units with our more realistic training scenarios.”

“Thank you.”

“I have been in many squadrons, fought in many battles, and had the honor of serving with many fine pilots. I want you to know that among all of them, I’ve never seen more courage, dedication, and honor than out of you and your sisters. There have been battles in the past where a few good people made an outsized difference in the outcome. This was one of those battles,” Amir said earnestly. “You should be proud of your efforts and your sisters’ efforts. I go back to the Lion of Judah inspired by your example.”

Arendse turned away from him before turning back, a tear running down her face. “I can’t stop thinking about the ones who didn’t come back. We normally don’t go into direct combat. Our largest space battle to date has been against low-rent space pirates that run away as soon as someone shoots back. I don’t think I was emotionally prepared for what real combat is truly like. How do you do it week in, week out?”

“It is hard,” Amir said. “It’s difficult to make friends and gain meaningful emotional attachments because of the high loss rates pilots suffer. It’s our job to go out and take the hits meant for the big ships. Still, I mourn every loss. You should too. Remember their sacrifice but continue the fight.”

“Those are wise words.”

“My wife told me that once. I never forgot it.”

“Is your wife in the CDF too?”

“She was a fighter pilot for ten years. Our daughter is a pilot now too. The entire Amir family likes to ride fast and fly high,” Amir said, grinning widely. “I’m so proud of my daughter. She’s even better in the cockpit than I am.”

“Don’t you worry about her safety?”

“Now you sound like my wife,” Amir joked. “Yes, I worry every day, and I look forward to getting the short vidlinks she sends me once a week. My heart stops for a moment after I hear of a battle her carrier was in. All that said, she’s fighting for what’s right. I am proud we raised children who value our freedoms and are willing to die to defend them.”

“I’d like to meet your family someday.”

“I’d be honored to have you in our home for a meal.”

“Deal. As soon as the war’s over.”

Amir smiled. “I’d better be getting back to Colonel Cohen’s shuttle. I don’t want him to leave without me,” he said, deflecting her comment.

“Godspeed, Hassan.”

“Ila al-liqaa,” Amir replied. “Until we meet again,” he finished, explaining the Arabic phrase he had used.

* * *

As David and his compatriots prepared to depart Monrovia for the last time—at least on this deployment—he found himself in the courtyard of what had been an abandoned Catholic church. The sisters had taken it over as their planetary HQ, something David found especially fitting. The final shipment of military hardware was delivered. An old Gladius-class destroyer, which ironically had been the same class of warship that his father flew into the side of Seville’s flagship so many years ago, was in route to the system to be handed over to Mother Superior Sarno.

“Colonel?” Simone asked as she walked out of the main sanctuary’s wide-open doors.

“Sister Darzi!”

“Simone is fine… I think we can be on a first-name basis after I hauled you out of prison.”

David cracked a smile in return. “Very well, Simone.”

“You wanted to see me? Mother Superior was asking all kinds of questions. She reminded me that I’ve got solemn vows in my future.”

“Yes, I wanted to thank you for saving my life,” David said, as what she said registered and his face turned red. “Sister, I would never in any way try to violate your vows…” As soon as he said it, a voice in the back of his head chimed in, It’s not like she isn’t incredibly attractive and you don’t realize that.

“I know,” Simone cut in. “You’re a good man, Colonel. I’m glad our paths crossed.”

“No one is good…not even one.”

“I wasn’t aware that Jews quoted the Christian Bible.”

David grinned. “The verse actually traces back to the Psalms…which is on my side of the Bible.”

“Ah, I wasn’t aware of that. How does a CDF colonel have the time to study the Bible?”

“Before I was an officer, before I joined the CDF… I wanted to be a rabbi. I spent many years studying the Torah and the wisdom of the rabbis who came before. To me, that’s one of the neatest things about Judaism. The constant search and questioning of what God’s told us. I loved nothing more than reading the Torah and asking the rabbis the toughest questions I could. But, somewhere along the way, I decided my calling was to be a soldier. Nearly twenty years later, here I am.”

Simone adjusted her habit and smoothed the fabric down. “It must have been a difficult choice.”

“It was. I still wonder sometimes if I made the right call. It’s a shame there isn’t a group of Jewish rabbis running around the universe doing good through combat.”

Simone laughed. “Are you making fun of us, David?”

“Never. You, Mother Superior Sarno, Sister Kaufman… you’ve earned my respect and gratitude.”

“Well, I can only speak for myself, but you and your crew earned mine too,” Simone replied, pausing for a moment. “I’ve been thinking about leaving the order.”

David stared at her closely. “Why?”

“Yes. I… I’m not sure I’m fit to remain after killing that man. Mother Superior has counseled me that it was an unavoidable consequence of war, and my actions were justified before God. I just… when I close my eyes, I see him,” Simone said, looking up at him with tears in her eyes. “How do I get past that?”

“You don’t. When I close my eyes at night, I see the faces of those I’ve killed. Sometimes I look down at my hands, and I feel like no matter how much I wash them, the blood never comes off. There’s a part of me that hates what I do, another part of me hates how well I do it, and yet another part is proud that I’m able to defeat the League because I believe the League is pure evil.”

“That’s quite a contradiction.”

“Isn’t it?” David said, agreeing with her.

“How do you reconcile it all?”

“I trust that God’s got me in the right place. I believe I need to do what I’m good at to protect others. I try in some way to balance the scales, to leave situations better than I found them, take care of my crew, and bring them home alive. The rest is in the hands of God.”

Simone was silent for a while as she stared out at the hills behind the church. “I think I should rejoin the CDF. Colonel Demood told me he’d sponsor me for OCS. He said the Marines needed more people like me that could confidently engage the enemy.”

“Simone, while I can’t disagree that you’d make a fine asset to the TCMC or the CDF… that’s not where you need to be.”

“How can you know that for sure?”

“I guess I can’t be absolutely certain but let me try to explain. There’s plenty of people like Cal and me. We’re ready to do what needs to be done, including kill as many Leaguers as required to keep our nation safe. There’re far too few people like you and your order. You and the rest of the sisters constantly put your own lives on the line in order not to kill others. I was astounded by the level of care you took, even in the face of an enemy doing horrific things to its citizens. I think we could all learn something from the grace you displayed in even trying to save a man that killed one of your own in cold blood. In short, Sister… we need more people like you out there trying to save lives. I’m convinced you’re where you belong and that you’re doing God’s work.”

They stood there in silence for several minutes, Simone staring at a point far away; David quiet while she thought. Finally, she spoke. “Thank you, David. I needed to hear that.”

“Anytime.”

“What about you? What will you do now?”

David shrugged. “Back to the Lion. General MacIntosh ordered us back to Canaan, where I’m sure we’ll receive new orders.”

“Are you going to get in trouble?”

“I don’t know. Also, don’t think I care. My conscience is at peace, and I’m sure we were supposed to help here. If we hadn’t, God only knows how bad the situation would have ended up being for the people on this planet.”

“We did okay,” Simone replied, grinning herself.

“I’d better head to the shuttle before everyone wonders where I ran off to.”

“Take care of yourself out there,” Simone replied.

“You too. As I told the Mother Superior, if you guys ever need something, you’ve got a marker with the Lion of Judah and me as long as I’m in command of her.”

Before turning to go, David stepped closer and gave Simone a hug, which she returned.

“Despite Mother Superior’s dry attitude, she has a great deal of respect for you. I’m sure we’d help someday in the future if we can.”

David inclined his head in thanks before turning to leave. I wonder if I’ll ever meet them again. I hope someday after this bloody war is over, there will be time to visit old friends.

39

After a good night’s sleep, David was rested and ready for morning watch on the Lion’s bridge. He exchanged salutes with the Marines on guard at the entrance to the cavernous bridge and combat information center as he walked in.

Tinetariro announced his presence as soon as he set foot on the deck plate. “Colonel on the bridge!”

The standing enlisted personnel, as well as officers, braced to attention and brought their hands to their brows in sharp salutes. David crisply returned them. “As you were, ladies and gentlemen.”

As everyone returned to what they’d been doing, he strode forward to the CO’s chair. “Lieutenant Jackson, I have the conn.”

“Aye, sir. Colonel Cohen has the conn,” the young lieutenant replied, standing.

David sat down, the change of watch being a ritual he had performed countless times. Still, there’s something special about this ship and having the privilege of commanding her. Turning to Hammond, he asked, “Navigation, status?”

“Standard orbit, sir, engineering has certified the Lawrence drive as ready to jump.”

“Very good. TAO, status?”

“All weapons systems in standby mode sir. We didn’t scratch the paint while you were gone, if that’s what you were wondering,” Ruth said as she cranked her head around, displaying a smile. “If I may, sir, good to have you back.”

“Does that mean you did not like having a Saurian in charge, Lieutenant?” Aibek’s voice boomed from behind them.

Ruth’s face turned red. “Uh, no, sir!”

David chuckled. “It’s nice to be back.”

Aibek sat down with a thud in the XO’s chair. “I was getting used to the big chair, Colonel. I’ll have to break this one in again.”

“Conn, TAO!” Ruth interjected, all business. “Detecting a Lawrence drive transit…new contact. Designated Sierra fifty-two, Gladius-class destroyer. IFF is not showing as CDF, sir.”

David exchanged a glance with Aibek. “That’s mighty odd.”

“Conn, communications. Incoming transmission from the new contact, sir. It’s Mother Superior Sarno for you,” Taylor said from his station.

“Put her on my viewer, Lieutenant.”

A moment later, Sarno’s face appeared on the screen above him. Wearing her robes and habit, she seemed to be taciturn as ever. “Greetings, Colonel Cohen.”

“Good day, Mother Superior,” David replied. “I see you’ve upgraded your ride.”

Aibek snickered, as did Ruth and Hammond, and even the ordinarily sour nun cracked a smile. “General MacIntosh kept up his end of the bargain. We have to engage in a complete refit of the ship, as it’s been in mothballs for fifteen years. But, once we’re done, our ability to project power, as the military would say… will be greatly enhanced.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Perhaps this isn’t the last time we’ll get to work together.”

“Perhaps not, Colonel Cohen. While not normally how we operate, I’m impressed by you and your fellows’ dedication. Please pass on my thanks to Colonel Demood, Colonel Amir, and Dr. Tural.”

“Of course, ma’am. Anything you need before we jump out?”

Sarno shook her head. “Be careful out there, Colonel. You have an incredible responsibility to do what’s right with your ship and crew. Be a force for good and an instrument of God’s will.”

“I’ll try to the best of my ability, Mother Superior.”

“Oh, one last thing. Have you seen the last report filed by GNN on our involvement in the Monrovia crisis?”

David shook his head. “No, ma’am, I haven’t had time to watch the news yet, though I did hear about her reporting.”

“Thank Ms. Dinman for me as well. Her appeal has caused us to receive more donations in the last twelve hours than we normally receive in three years.”

“That’s incredible,” David said, shocked.

“God works in mysterious ways at times.”

“Very true, Mother Superior.”

“I will bid you farewell, for now, Colonel. Godspeed and safe travels.”

“You as well, ma’am.”

David saw her reach down to cut off the communication but stop right before she pressed the button. Instead, she brought her hand up to her brow in a traditional CDF salute. Immediately, David’s right hand snapped up, crisply returning the salute. They both exchanged smiles before Sarno finally cut the commlink off. Filled with a sense of pride for a job well done, he turned to Aibek. “We did well here.”

“Yes, we did, sir.”

“Well, I think it’s time to go and face the music back home. Navigation, commence final charge-up sequence for the Lawrence drive.”

“Aye aye, sir!” Hammond said.

“TAO, secure all tactical systems, and confirm that our magnetic cannons are unloaded.”

Ruth looked down at her board, checking one last time for reporting back. “Conn, TAO… all tactical systems are powered down, magnetic cannons unloaded, and the energy weapons capacitor is completely discharged.”

“Conn, Navigation. Lawrence drive is fully charged, and we are ready to jump.”

“Navigation, commence jump to Canaan,” David ordered.

The Lion of Judah, in orbit high above Monrovia, turned and engaged her sub-light engines. At the same time, she powered up her massive Lawrence drive, and an artificial wormhole opened directly in front of the ship. It only took a few seconds for the vessel to glide into the construct of dizzying colors and disappear from local space. Shortly after that, the wormhole collapsed in on itself, and there was no trace of the mighty warship to be found.

* * *

A few hours after making orbit over Canaan and docking at the primary CDF space station, David and several of the senior officers, as well as Kenneth Lowe, the lead contractor, were in the main conference room. Priority notification had come in, indicating that General MacIntosh wanted to debrief them in person. I’m wagering the general is still very unhappy. This ought to be…interesting. Aibek, Calvin, Amir, Ruth, Kenneth, and Taylor were in attendance, based on the MacIntosh’s specific request.

“You got any idea why the shiny brass wants to see us, Colonel?” Calvin asked in a sarcastic tone. “Maybe the general wants me to spit shine his boots Marine Corps style.”

“I’m sure he’s learned more about what we collectively did on Monrovia and is less than pleased,” David said. “We did, after all, disobey direct orders.”

“They ought to give us a medal for disobeying those orders,” Ruth insisted.

As the officers talked, David noticed that Kenneth looked extremely uncomfortable.

“Orders are orders,” David said, his voice clear and direct. “If we start deciding which ones we choose to obey, the chain of command breaks down. This is the military, after all.”

“I’m glad someone still understands that, Colonel Cohen,” MacIntosh said in his loud, booming Scottish brogue as he walked into the conference room. Led by David, everyone jumped out of their chairs and came to attention. MacIntosh shut the hatch and turned around.

“I am singularly disappointed in the actions of the people in this room over the last five days,” MacIntosh began. “Lieutenant Goldberg, you encouraged superior officers to disobey direct orders… and worse than that, Colonel Aibek, you went along with her! What Colonel Cohen said is absolutely correct. This is the military. We don’t get to pick and choose. You do what you’re told, when you’re told, with a sharp salute and a clear, crisp ‘Aye aye, sir!’ Do you get me?” The last sentence was said at practically a shout.

“We get you, sir!” David replied, his voice loud.

“I don’t think you do, Colonel,” MacIntosh said, his face turning red. “If you did, you wouldn’t have disobeyed direct orders from me. Nor would you have kept from me just how far your crew went to intervene in the conflict!”

“With respect, sir…” David tried to interject.

“I’m not finished, Colonel!” MacIntosh barked. “Mr. Lowe, did you or did you not clandestinely provide information to the sisters against direct orders?”

Kenneth gulped before responding, “Uh, well, yes, sir.”

MacIntosh moved on to his next target, looking in Aibek’s direction. “Colonel Aibek, why did you order the Lion of Judah to engage targets on the ground of a neutral planet?”

Aibek looked between David and MacIntosh before speaking. “The targets in question were League of Sol military hardware, recently delivered to the Monrovians, sir. We used pin-point strikes to neutralize them. Without that action, it is my professional opinion that the enemy would have prevailed.”

“And what if your attacks had struck other targets? Caused collateral damage?”

“You mean killed civilians, sir?” David replied, causing MacIntosh to again turn to him. “Even if that had happened, it would have been better than allowing the Monrovian government to continue its religious cleansing! It was the right thing to do, sir.”

“The right thing to do… is that the standard these days?” MacIntosh replied, looking at Aibek. “I ought to have you removed from the exchange program for this stunt. You, of all people, Colonel Aibek, should understand the chain of command and how important it is to our objectives and structure,” he practically shouted.

“General MacIntosh,” David attempted to say.

“I said I’m not done, Colonel!”

“With respect, sir!” David shouted. “I will not stand here and allow the men and women who serve under me to be maligned further. If you’re mad at me for what I did, take it out on me alone. They did nothing wrong. Colonel Aibek’s actions are consistent with the finest traditions of the Coalition Defense Force. I’ll concede that the discussions on the bridge, as I’ve been briefed on them, were outside of normal protocol. I’ll address it later with my crew, sir,” he said with a hard edge. “You will respect that same chain of command, sir, and allow me to handle it in my way unless I’m being relieved of duty.”

Quiet descended over the room, and David held his breath as MacIntosh stared at him. “Everyone but Colonel Cohen is dismissed,” MacIntosh finally said. When the others didn’t move, he barked, “Now!”

Aibek, Calvin, Ruth, Amir, Kenneth, and Taylor made a beeline for the hatch, keeping eyes front. Aibek reached it first. He opened it up, and they exited. Taylor was the last one out, and he triggered the closing mechanism, leaving the room silent once more.

“You’ve got a brass set, Colonel,” MacIntosh said without preamble.

“Permission to speak freely, sir?”

“Granted.”

“Taking out your frustration with me on my crew is unwarranted. If you want to relieve me or you want me to step down, say so,” David replied, his voice tight. He stared directly into MacIntosh’s eyes, refusing to break eye contact.

“I don’t want to relieve you… I want you to follow orders and do your damned job.”

“I do that, sir. My ship was where it needed to be, and I was able to help the situation on Monrovia.”

“So all’s well that ends well?”

David considered mentally what he was about to say. The truth is, General MacIntosh is right. I did disobey orders; I might have put a cute bow on it, but I broke at least the spirit of what he told me, if not the letter. I need to concede the point to him, because he won’t be satisfied until I do. I know him well enough now. “General, you’re right. I didn’t do what you told me to do. I had my reasons, and I believe it was the right thing to do. I apologize for the situation this put you into, and I apologize for not being honest in a direct manner. I should’ve vidlinked you and explained what I was doing.”

“That’s a start,” MacIntosh replied, his face softening just a tad. “You’ve used up your one and only grace card with me, Colonel. You ever pull another stunt like this, and I’ll cashier you out of the service. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal, sir.”

“David… you’re the best ship driver I’ve seen in my career. Get your feces congealed, execute your orders, and finish off the League. That’s what counts, period.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You don’t seem convinced of that.”

“It’s not enough to defeat the League, sir. We have to prevent the spread of its ideology. The idea that the state is the end all, be all of society is what led to this predicament on Monrovia.”

“That’s not your job, son. The politicians decide what policy is, and they decide what we’re going to do or not do. Not the military.”

“I understand, sir.”

“You just don’t like it and think you know better, right?”

David couldn’t help but smile. “Perhaps sometimes I do, sir.”

“Yeah, I was that officer once, maybe years ago when I was younger and still had hair. You grow out of it. I need you to grow out of it right now. Clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ll be inserting an official letter of reprimand into your personnel file. If you keep your nose clean for the next year, it will be discarded,” MacIntosh stated.

“I understand, sir,” David replied, looking straight ahead.

“You’ll be at Canaan for a few days. Whatever repairs are needed will be made, and full stocks of supplies taken on. Then you’ll be joining back up with Admiral Kartal.”

“Yes, sir. More action against the League?”

“Correct. Our campaign objective is to remove the threat of offensive League battlegroups from our local area of space. While many of them have been destroyed, there are a few fleets in being that remain dangerous. We’re not going to worry about planets held by the League right now. Our focus is exclusively on space-based forces. Ground troops will come in and mop up resistance once we’ve starved them from space.”

“In other words, we’re using blitzkrieg-style tactics,” David said.

“Blitzkrieg?”

“German term for early tank warfare. It means ‘lightning war.’ They left strongpoints of defense behind for infantry to destroy while the tanks pressed on and took more ground. That’s what you’re proposing, effectively.”

“Admiral Kartal is the one who came up with the strategy, son. I build new ships and oversee our special projects.”

“And handle me?”

For the first time, MacIntosh cracked a smile. “That too. I hope you understand that I’m hard on you because I see the potential in you.”

“I’ll try to remember that, sir.”

“You do that. I’ll see myself out. You’re dismissed.”

40

Later that day, after MacIntosh was off the ship and everything had settled down, David took an early dinner in his quarters; he planned to go to sleep early and get a head start on the next day. His mind raced at a hundred miles an hour about the events of the last week, however, and sleep escaped him. He kept coming back to the risk and sacrifice that Aibek had made on his and the sisters’ behalf. Resolving to have a conversation about it, he tossed his uniform back on and left his quarters. A few minutes later, he found himself pressing the buzzer to the XO’s quarters, which were on the other side of officers’ country. A continuity of operations precaution, CDF ship designers always put the CO and XO on opposite ends so that a single lucky shot wouldn’t kill both of them at the same time.

“Come in,” Aibek’s deep voice said, issuing from a speaker on the wall.

The hatch automatically unlocked with a noticeable metallic sound, and David pushed it inward. The sight of Aibek’s quarters greeted him; a place he hadn’t been before. It departed from CDF standard with displays of trinkets and items from Sauria; specifically of a painting of the Saurian homeworld before it became a polluted mess. Ceremonial weapons including an ax and two daggers graced the walls as well.

“Colonel, I apologize. I wasn’t expecting visitors,” Aibek said while gesturing to the room, which was generally messy.

“For some reason, I had this picture in my mind that everything in a Saurian’s quarters had a place, and everything was in its place.”

Aibek cocked his head to the right. “Why?”

David grinned. “Because your mass transit runs on time.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“It’s a human saying. We joke that the Germans always have trains which run on time.”

“You’ll have to explain that to me sometime.”

“Someday,” David said. “Got a few minutes to talk?”

“Of course, sir.” Aibek shoved a tablet and some printouts off his couch, making space for David to sit.

David sat down on the couch while Aibek took a seat in the large chair next to it. “Thank you, Talgat,” he said, testing out the use of his first name. “Is that the right pronunciation?”

“Well, my full name is S’aartan Talgat Aibek. But practically every Saurian in the universe has a first name that begins with S. I like to be different. So I use my middle name.”

“I can understand that. I like to be different too,” David said, cracking a smile. “The last couple of months, we haven’t had an excessive amount of time to get to know each other.”

“What is there to get to know? You’re a competent commanding officer and a fine warrior. I am assigned to your ship, and I will serve to the best of my ability.”

“I appreciate that sentiment, but humans typically go a bit deeper than that in our interactions,” David observed. “Especially when we do things that put our careers and ambitions at risk.”

“You mean me breaking orders?”

“Exactly.”

Aibek looked at David square in the eyes. “David,” he replied, also testing out the use of his first name. “I could not simply step aside and do nothing. Honor demanded I try to help. To leave another to fight a noble fight, when I could intervene and help? That goes against everything I’ve ever learned and against my religious beliefs.”

“I find it somewhat interesting that your messiah figure was much more of a fighter than the messiah of the Christians,” David said.

“I’ve come to believe they’re one and the same.”

“Truly?”

“Yes. I’ve read the Christian Bible, and I find the similarities to be remarkable.”

“I’d point out that Jesus went around talking about doing good to those that hurt you, and turning the other cheek,” David replied.

“I thought Jews rejected him as the Messiah. If so, why do you know so much about him?”

David grinned. “Sheila was a born-again Christian. She and I had many a debate about the subject,” David said as he shrugged. “Jesus was a great man. He changed the course of the world. But as a Jew, I don’t believe that our Messiah has come in this universe as of yet.”

Aibek inclined his head. “I, of course, respect your belief. I would point out to you though, that Jesus used a whip on money chargers that stole from the poor. Clearly, he was capable of violence.”

“Perhaps. But that’s nowhere near the gist of his message.”

“No. For us, it was a large component. Perhaps God tailors his message to each race, dependent on how we evolve?” Aibek mused out loud.

“It’s certainly possible, even plausible.”

“Yet some do not yet believe.”

“Well, a skeptic would say that just because similar religions develop on different planets and with different species, it’s not a proof of God, but a disproof. In other words, religion is just something that societies generally come up with to keep everyone together and focused.”

“What about the idea that our brains appear to be hardwired to believe in a higher power?” Aibek responded.

“Same difference. That could be an evolved behavior.”

“Or concrete proof of a higher power.”

David smiled. “That’s what I think it is, but the other side has a counterpoint to every point we have. As we have one to each of their objections. The truth is, we can’t use science to prove or disprove the existence of God. It’s something that one must take on faith.”

“Faith is powerful.”

“Yes, it is,” David said in agreement. “Thank you for helping us. I’m sorry that it came to General MacIntosh threatening to end your participating in the exchange program.”

Aibek shrugged. “My only regret would have been that I was unable to continue serving with you and the other warriors on this ship. I have come to respect all of you a great deal. I hope to continue to be useful and serve faithfully.”

“I’m certain that will continue to be the case,” David replied. “What do Saurians like to do for fun anyway?”

“What is fun?” Aibek asked in a perfect deadpan.

“Hah. Almost had me there. There’s got to be some hobby or activity you like to do.”

“Most of our culture is steeped in some form of fighting. I do enjoy what you would call martial arts and some sports activities.”

“Ever tried bowling?”

“Bowling?” Aibek asked, making a quirked face.

“You roll a ball down a wood surface and try to knock over plastic pins,” David explained.

“That sounds… boring.”

“It can be, but it’s somewhat relaxing to me. Would you care to join me tomorrow? Goldberg, Taylor, and Amir enjoy playing. I’ll get them all to come along.”

“I’ll try just about anything once,” Aibek responded.

“Good. 1900 CMT? Right after dinner?”

“I’ll be there.”

“Excellent! Now I’m going to go get some sleep,” David said as he stood from the couch, a grin spreading across his face.

“Good night, David. Godspeed and good rest,” Aibek replied.

As David stepped through the hatch and back into the passageway that lay beyond, he looked back into the room. “For what it’s worth, you’re every bit Sheila’s equal in terms of ability, honor, and dedication, Talgat. I’m glad we’re serving together.”

“I am honored.”

David inclined his head and walked off down the hall. It’s going to take a lot of time before I have the kind of natural rapport with Aibek that I had with Shelia, even after taking the emotional element out of it. She could read my mind. Still, I’m lucky to have him. I need to nurture our friendship on and off the ship. I’ll have to put myself outside of my comfort zone and do it.

As he stepped into the gravlift and began to order it to take him to the deck his cabin was situated on, David thought the better of it. “Deck five,” he said instead. A brief ride later, the doors slid open, and David briskly walked down the central passageway of the ship. As large as three normal passageways, it was one of the main thoroughfares for the crew. His destination was the shul, which was amidships, situated against the outer hull.

At the late hour, there was virtually no one present in the shul, David noticed as he pulled on his yarmulke and walked inside. “Prayers before bed, Colonel Cohen?” the voice of Rabbi Kravitz boomed out from his small office.

Smiling, David stuck his head through the door. “Still got a few minutes for a fellow Jew, Rabbi?”

“Of course. Come in. Come in!” Kravitz replied, wearing a warm and genuine smile himself.

“I haven’t had time to get down here and thank you for ministering to those we rescued. I’m sure that having a rabbi around to offer healing was beneficial,” David said.

“The Mitzvot do specifically say to appoint a special priest for soldiers in a war.”

“Five hundred ninety-nine,” David replied with a grin.

“Do you still study the Torah?” Kravitz asked.

David nodded. “Every day that I can. I still hope someday to become a rabbi.”

“A noble goal,” Kravitz replied. “We always need more of those.”

“I read somewhere the other day that there are more than a billion Jews in the Terran Coalition as of the last census.”

“We were fruitful and multiplied,” Kravitz cracked.

“I’ll say. We’re still the smallest of the major religions.”

“That would be expected. We started with far fewer people in the Exodus,” Kravitz observed.

“I’m worried, Rabbi.”

“About what?”

“I didn’t even remember that it was Rosh Hashanah. I was so caught up in fighting and what was going on around me. I find that I’m struggling to fulfill my duties as a Jew.”

“Then rededicate yourself, decide to pray more, partake in services, and worship God.”

“Do you ever wonder how Adonai looks at us? I imagine He must be disgusted when we engage in combat, killing dozens, hundreds, thousands of His creations, and show up to prayers a few hours later.”

“I don’t believe he judges us for a just action in war,” Kravitz said, frowning. “If I may be so bold, it sounds to me like that you carry around much guilt.”

“I do,” David replied. “I feel like I’m constantly running from the guilt and despair that threatens to engulf me. I still blame myself for Sheila’s death. If I hadn’t insisted on going after Seville, she’d still be alive.”

“And we probably wouldn’t have the allies we have now, nor be pushing the League back across the entire front.”

“So her death was God’s plan? It was worth it in the grand scheme of things?”

“Perhaps it was,” Kravitz allowed.

“Someday, I want to understand why. A being that can create anything, why can’t He stop the League in its tracks? Why not banish evil?”

“Have you considered that perhaps God doesn’t revolve around you or me? That, in fact, we revolve around Him? Perhaps the reason Adonai doesn’t destroy evil in the universe today is that if He did, billions of souls who do not know Him would be cast out. Perhaps He, in His infinite wisdom, allows us to grope around and try to seek His name.”

David furrowed his brow while shaking his head. “I suppose I hadn’t thought of it in that manner. At least not recently.”

“Think on it.”

“I still hate this war,” David said as he sighed. “I long for the day we no longer have to fight day in and day out to ensure our existence.”

“Only a sociopath enjoys killing,” Kravitz replied. “The fact it still bothers you is proof you haven’t lost your humanity and your connection to God.”

“Thanks, Rabbi.”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

David stood up. “I guess I’d better recite the evening prayer and turn in. Tomorrow is another day.”

“This is the day that the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.”

“I’ll do my best,” David replied, smiling.

* * *

Andrew MacIntosh walked through a full-body scanning booth at one of the entrances to the residence of the Terran Coalition’s president in his full uniform. The protocol called for wearing, at a minimum, service dress khaki uniforms to meet with the president, preferably dress blacks, which MacIntosh didn’t have time to don.

After completing the scan, he was whisked away to the private living quarters by several elite protective service agents and directed to wait in one of the many and ornately decorated rooms. This particular room was decorated in a Greco-Roman style with paintings of Dr. James Lawrence, the creator of the FTL system employed by all human spacecraft, adorning the walls. MacIntosh didn’t have to wait long; within five minutes, the door swung open, and President Spencer entered, followed by his constant, twenty-four-hours-a-day bodyguard.

Reflexively, MacIntosh sprang from his chair and came to attention. “At ease, Andrew,” Spencer said with a smile. “This is just a friendly discussion between two friends.”

MacIntosh relaxed into a parade rest posture. “Sir, you’re the President of the Terran Coalition. Can’t train that out of this old soldier.”

Spencer gestured to the chair MacIntosh had been occupying. “Please, have a seat,” he said as he sat down on the couch across from the chair.

“Thank you, sir,” MacIntosh replied, sitting only after the president had.

“We’re preparing a statement on the Monrovia situation, and I wanted your thoughts on the matter,” Spencer stated matter-of-factly.

“Mr. President, while I argued for intervention, the situation ended up going further than I had ever intended. I can do nothing but offer my apologies for my personnel exceeding their authority and orders.”

“Andrew, I’m not upset about it. If anything, I’m grateful they did.”

MacIntosh’s mouth dropped open. “With respect, sir, we operate on a system of orders. If you don’t like orders, you have to shut up and do them or resign. There’s no cherry-picking which ones you agree to follow.”

“You did tell me that Colonel Cohen was unorthodox in his methods.”

“I underestimated just how unorthodox he is, sir,” MacIntosh replied.

“I think that might be a positive. Thanks to the reporting done on Monrovia, the approval rating for the CDF is even higher than it was a couple of weeks ago, which was a historical high then. Spontaneous gatherings are occurring outside of our embassies on neutral planets thanking the Terran Coalition for protecting them. In short, we’ve come out of this as the force for good in our local region. I can’t see a better outcome. We stopped a monstrous wrong, exposed the League one more time for what it is, and did it in front of a holocamera for once. How many times have our men and women died to stop the League, and the press never seemed to notice just how bad the League is?”

“That may be true, sir. I worry about the optics of the Terran Coalition intervening in other planets’ internal business. This case was easy, but what about the next one? It’s a slippery slope to imperialism setting in.”

“I’m surprised to hear this from the man who wanted me to authorize intervention in the first place.”

“The road to hell is paved with good intentions, sir. History shows that unchecked police actions against rogue states feed on themselves. I urge caution.”

“I think you’re more chafed at your protégé disregarding your instructions,” Spencer observed.

“The young colonel still has a lot to learn,” MacIntosh replied, smiling ruefully. “I wish he had more seasoning, but I still believe he’s the best man for the job.”

“I seem to remember you overlooking a certain CDF officer exceeding his orders on occasion.”

“And he grew up to be the commander in chief. Can’t have that happen again, sir,” MacIntosh said with a tight grin.

“There’s something I want to know.”

“What’s that, sir?”

“How’d you managed to get a seemingly unbiased GNN reporter onto the Lion of Judah? I never quite understood why you argued for them over a Canaan News Network embed.”

“Well, sir, everyone expects Canaan News to be pro-CDF. I thought it would be far better for our society and for morale at large to have a reporter from a news outlet that wasn’t thought of generally pro-military. You can argue pretty convincingly that GNN is anti-CDF.” Better to leave the rest of my deal off the record.

Spencer nodded his understanding. “I see, Andrew. Your line of reasoning is, as usual, impeccable. I’d also like to thank you for finding the troops to get Monrovia garrisoned. I’m sure that was no easy feat.”

“I bled forces off from several of our core worlds that, quite frankly, don’t need as many troops right now thanks to our continued successes in the war, and cobbled together a few reserve ships to constitute a planetary defense and customs force. Monrovia is a long way from being stabilized, though. The people of the planet are experiencing great upheaval. In the end, it’ll be up to them what kind of society they create from the ashes.”

“It’s up to each of us, in the end, to do what’s right,” Spencer observed. “I find myself thinking we should have done more here. It was only the heroic actions of a few brave people that saved the day. Perhaps, when the League is finally on the run, we should change policy.”

“To confronting evil in our local area of the galaxy?”

“Yes. We’ve long ignored things in our backyard, sticking to this non-interference mantra. For instance, take the Harr’al. They allow legalized slavery for crying out loud, Andrew. Humans fought wars that killed millions of people to stop slavery back on Earth. Someday, I hope we can right some wrongs out here. It’s about time.”

“Mr. President, again, as a professional military officer, I would caution you to avoid blanket statements. They lead to unintended consequences.”

“I’ll try to remember that in the days ahead.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Andrew, I’m going to go have dinner with my wife and children. Would you care to join us?”

MacIntosh shook his head. “No, sir, though I am deeply honored you would ask. If I did that without bringing my wife, well, she’d kill me.”

“Then I’ll invite both of you soon,” Spencer replied while laughing and rising from his seat on the couch.

MacIntosh quickly jumped out of the chair and stood as well. “Thank you, sir.”

“Carry on, Andrew, and keep those technological marvels coming.”

“Aye aye, sir!”

Spencer walked out of the room, followed by his two protectors, leaving MacIntosh to exit the residence. During his trip out, he couldn’t help but think about the conversation. I know where Justin’s heart is, but we can’t be the galaxy’s policeman right now. Even once we beat the League, we need to step back, take care of our own, rebuild our civil infrastructure, and for the first time in a generation, not be at war. At least, that’s how I see it. Ultimately, it doesn’t matter what I believe because the politicians make policy, not the military. I hope whoever our next president is, has the same kind of abilities and coolness under fire that Justin does. Otherwise, we could find ourselves in many small wars… and that’s not something I look forward to.

41

The day after returning to Canaan, David rose at his usual time of 0430 CMT. Maybe there’s a bit more spring in my step today, he reflected after exiting the officer’s gym after his workout. There’s got to be. I can’t be getting old before I even turn forty. He made his way back to his quarters, showered, and dressed in the uniform of the day. Deciding to eat before his morning prayers, David arrived at his favorite officers’ mess at 0530. For reasons he couldn’t readily explain, the one closest to the bridge had become the one he preferred, even though there were three others on the massive ship available for officers at all hours, in addition to six messes for enlisted personnel. Walking in the door, he strolled into the ordering area.

“Chief,” David said, addressing the lead cook. “Give me three eggs over medium with a side of hash browns and toast. Oh, and get me a piece of salmon too, if you have one that’s kosher still in stock?”

“Yes, sir, Colonel! You’re in luck; we resupplied last night. I’ve even got some eggs that are marked kosher, though… well, sir, we do cook meat on this grill too.”

David grinned in return. “I know, Chief. Hard to get an actual kosher meal except when it’s brought up pre-cooked. We’re out of the vacuum-sealed religious meals anyway.”

“I heard the chiefs’ mess still has some of those, sir.”

“I guess I’d better see if I can get the Master Chief to invite me sometime,” David replied. “You guys always get the best food.”

“Been that way for hundreds of years too, sir,” the head chef, who wore the stripes of a chief petty officer, replied.

“I’ll have to settle for things marked ‘kosher’ this time around, Chief. Serve it up!”

“Oh great, here we go with that again. Kosher this, kosher that. Next, you’re going to tell me I can’t have my bacon cheeseburgers,” boomed Calvin’s voice from behind both of them. David turned around and made a big show of rolling his eyes.

“Colonel Demood… I’m tempted to make you run laps in here,” David replied good-naturedly.

“I’m game. Like to see you CDF boys keep up with my laps any day of the week. Chief, let me have my usual. Two eggs, bacon and sausage, peanut butter on the toast.”

“You got it, Colonel,” the chef replied.

“Chief, please use a separate pan for the bacon,” David said with a grin.

“Already planned on it, sir.”

Turning to Calvin, David continued, “Care to join for me for breakfast?”

“Sure. You get a good night’s sleep?”

“Yeah, about as good as any lately,” David replied as he walked over to the coffee dispenser and poured himself a mug. “Mmmmm. CDF coffee. Nothing else like it. I’ll take this stuff over the lattes or whatever is in vogue with the more refined set these days.”

“Hah, it’s battery acid, but it does get us moving.”

“Amen,” David said, taking a seat at a table near the transparent metal “windows” that allowed a view of Canaan and her orbiting defenses, space stations, and dozens of ships. “That is a sight that just never gets old to me,” he said while glancing out into space. “The fact that we’re out here and able to see the handiwork of the Creator. It’s a gift.”

Calvin took a sip of his coffee before speaking. “I’m kind of amazed we survived long enough as a species to get out in the stars.”

“You and me both.”

Out of the corner of his eye, David saw Ruth and Hanson come in about roughly the same time, place their orders, and get coffee. He waved at them, and both walked over.

“Mind if we join you, sir?” Ruth asked.

“Feel free.”

Ruth slid into the open seat next to David while Hanson occupied the one across from her. “I know it’s only been a couple of days, sir… but it feels like months,” Hanson commented. “Are you glad to be back?”

“You have no idea, Major. I’m very thankful to be back home, where I thankfully still belong.”

“Thank you for sticking up for us yesterday, sir,” Ruth said. “I think I can speak for the entire senior staff by saying that meant a lot.”

“Just something a good leader taught me, that I try imperfectly to emulate.”

“You emulate it well, then,” Ruth replied.

“Oh, look here. Colonel Cohen has a fan club. Where can I sign up? Does it come with autographs?” Calvin interjected sarcastically, causing laughter from everyone at the table.

“We’ve got another set of software upgrades for the reactor controls, courtesy of Dr. Hayworth,” Hanson said excitedly.

“How much of an improvement in power output?” David asked.

“Don’t feed the nerd, Colonel,” Calvin joked. “He’s bad enough without being encouraged.”

Hanson looked uncomfortable but pressed on. “Well, sir, at least five percent. Maybe eight if we keep pushing. It’d help keep our shields up longer or provide a bit more into the energy weapons capacitor.”

“That sounds good to me. More protection or more lethality... I’ll take both,” David replied.

Engrossed in the conversation, David didn’t see Amir walk up to the table. “Is there room for another?” he asked, holding a cup of hot tea.

“Of course, take a seat,” David said, gesturing to the open seat next to Calvin.

Amir set his tea down first, then pulled the chair out and sat down. “Thank you, sir.”

David leaned back in his seat, looking at his friends. “One more successful mission in the books, lady, and gents.”

“And a stark reminder of how far we’ve yet to go,” Amir replied. “I never thought I’d see human beings—outside of the League—do the kinds of things we saw on Monrovia.”

“Most of us are bad,” Calvin observed. “It shouldn’t be a surprise that when push comes to shove, most will try to save their skins by any means necessary.”

Ruth shook her head. “I can’t agree with that. I believe, at our core, most people want to do good. Sometimes we need a push.”

“A still, small voice?” David asked with a smile.

“Something like that.”

“This coming from the one person at this table I would expect to think like me,” Calvin replied.

“Just because I like blasting Leaguers out of space doesn’t mean I think most humans are evil,” Ruth retorted.

“Speaking of blasting the League… when are we getting back in action, Colonel?” Calvin said.

“I expect us to get orders soon back to the front. Reloading munitions, stores, and supplies right now. Then we get back to it.”

Several mess stewards made a beeline for the table, carrying the food they’d ordered. “Thank you,” David said as his plate was placed in front of him. The rest of them politely thanked the men for bringing their food as well.

“Shall we pray?” David asked.

They all nodded and held out hands. David took Ruth’s and Calvin’s hands before bowing his head. “Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the universe, Who brings forth bread from the earth. Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the universe, through Whose word everything comes into being. Amen.”

“Amen and pass the salt,” Calvin said.

“Amin,” Amir replied, putting stress on the I; it was the traditional Islamic version of amen used by Christians and Jews.

David took his fork and dug into the hash browns, taking a large bite. “Mmmmm,” he said between chews. After swallowing, he continued, “When you’re reduced to combat rations for a few days, real food just tastes incredible.”

“Especially combat rations prepared by nuns. They’re even more bland and tasteless than normal. I can’t explain it,” Calvin said with a laugh.

Ruth snickered as she took a bite of her eggs. “Getting soft, Colonel?”

“Marines don’t get soft. Ever. We’re called leathernecks for a reason.”

“Really, because I heard that a certain communications officer put you on the ground in a sparring match,” Ruth said while batting her eyelashes and making a comically innocent face.

“I put him on the ground with pugil sticks!” Calvin shot back.

“Oooo, bad look, Colonel. Don’t make a big deal out of it; that only confirms the joke got under your skin,” David replied.

“That’s not how I heard it,” Ruth continued. “Then again, maybe the well-dressed guards for the ship are getting soft across the board.”

“Just ask the League if we’re getting soft,” Calvin groused.

“Now, now,” David interjected. “We’re all friends here.”

“Marines, soldiers, and pilots have been jaw-jacking on each other since the beginning of the military,” Amir said, entering the fray. “I think most of you owe your continued success to pilots. We screen the capital ships and make sure the Marines get to where they're going while providing fire support.”

“One team, one mission, one fight?” Hanson said hopefully.

“Exactly, Major,” David said pointedly.

“Agreed,” Calvin said, downing a swig of coffee. “It’s time for us to keep striking back. Where’s our resident Saurian anyway? I needed to congratulate him on how our new allies are kicking butt and taking names.”

“Colonel Aibek is standing watch currently,” Hanson said. “I just finished giving him my engineering readiness report before hitting the breakfast tour.”

“The tour?” David asked.

“Yeah, you get breakfast in this mess, and the one close to engineering has delicious pastries,” Hanson explained. “I grabbed one on my way back to the reactor chamber.”

Calvin stared at Hanson, his jaw dropping open. “That’s why we’ve got Marines onboard. Without them, the ship would be defended by soldiers who have breakfast and then an extra pastry. Keep exercising!”

“You guys keep this up, I’m going to hold a ship-wide PT contest between the different departments, pilots, and Marines. Whoever loses will get to swab the deck,” David replied in a tone of voice that indicated he was joking.

“Swab the deck, sir?” Amir asked with a look of bewilderment on his face.

“Back in the ancient days, when ships were made from wood, and men from iron… sailors had to swab down the deck every morning to clean it and keep the salt and seaweed down,” David explained. “It wasn’t fun duty and could be used as a punishment.” An evil little grin popped onto his face. “Whoever loses could get out on the hull and clean it. Take us, what, two days?”

“On second thought, I love the Marines,” Ruth quipped.

“Pilots are just awesome,” Calvin piped up.

“Excellent,” David said, still wearing the grin. He set his coffee mug down and made eye contact with Hanson. “I want you all to know that it’s an honor to be able to serve with you. I couldn’t ask for anything more out of this team,” he said while making eye contact with each person at the table as he spoke.

“Thank you, sir. Glad to be onboard,” Calvin replied.

“Same here, sir,” Ruth said.

“I am thankful that the will of Allah brought us all together,” Amir observed.

“Slight topic change. I’ve decided on a motto for the ship,” David said. “Semper Anticus.”

“Always forward?” Hanson said with a bit of hesitation in his voice.

“Almost. The direct translation is ‘always at the front,’” David answered. “I found it to be fitting, especially in this season of actual advance. Ball caps will also be ordered and should be here in a few weeks.”

Ruth rolled her eyes. “No matter what cover we have to wear on the bridge, they all look awful.”

“The point is, you all look the same,” Calvin said. “Misery loves company.”

“Will we be painting the motto of the ship down the main gangway on deck five?” Hanson asked, steering the subject elsewhere.

“That’s the plan,” David said. “It’ll look sharp when we’re done with it.” Looking down at his finished plate, David knew it was time to get to prayers. “Okay, folks, time for me to roll out. See you all on the bridge at 0730?” He stood as they all acknowledged his statement and flashed a final smile. “Carry on!”

David turned and walked smartly out of the mess, glancing down at the commlink on his wrist to see he had just enough time to get to the shul. As he stepped into the gravlift to get down three decks, Angie ducked in before the doors could close. “Have a moment, Colonel?”

“Of course,” David replied as he held the door. “I’ve meant to thank you for the reporting on Monrovia.”

“It’s caused quite a stir, hasn’t it?”

“To put it mildly. I have you to thank for the stationing of CDF forces there and bringing some amount of normalcy and hope for the future to those people.”

Angie grinned. “Don’t get used to it, Colonel.”

“Oh, I have no doubt you’ll continue to hold our feet to the fire, as you’ve put it before.”

“That’s my job. Hold the powerful to account.”

David laughed. “You think I’m powerful?”

“You command the most destructive warship in the CDF arsenal. Pretty powerful if you ask me.”

“I carry out my orders just like every other officer and enlisted soldier.”

“Except when you don’t,” Angie said sharply.

“I don’t think I’ll get that opportunity too many more times,” David observed. “This one almost cost me my command.”

“Do you regret it?”

“Not in the slightest. I’d regret it if I didn't stand up.” Like I do for all the things I haven’t stood up for and for all the sins I’ve committed.

“Well, thank you for taking me along. I’m glad I was able to bring that story to the galaxy at large. It needed to be told.”

The gravlift doors opened as it came to a stop. “No problem, Ms. Dinman,” David said. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m late for the shul.”

“Of course, Colonel. It’s Angie, by the way.”

“We’re back to first names?”

“Yes,” Angie replied coolly.

“In that case, good day then… Angie,” David said, flashing a smile and walking out of the lift.

“Good day, David!” Angie called after him.

* * *

“This brandy is incredible,” Colonel Strappi, political commissar and morale for the LSS Annihilator said in a smug tone. “Thank you for allowing me to share in it, Admiral,” he said to Admiral Pierre Seville, her commanding officer and overall commander for the League forces operating in Canaan. They were seated in the drawing room of Seville’s expansive quarters onboard the ship. The quarters were like a small house with every possible luxury.

“Isn’t it?” Seville said. “I do appreciate the finer things at times. I suppose some nice liquor stocks are to be expected with us in orbit of Earth, our crown jewel.”

“Thank you for inviting me to enjoy it with you, Admiral.”

Always the sniveling little man. “Have you seen the latest intelligence report on Monrovia?”

“Yes, Admiral. Such a waste. We almost had a friendly planet to stage covert and overt actions against the Terran Coalition from a mere stone’s throw from their border.”

“It’s proof that the state cannot let any citizen in it have any duty, responsibility, or belief in a power higher than the state. The state is… everything,” Seville declared.

“I could not agree more, Admiral.”

“Unfortunately, the Monrovians were unable to fully grasp that and implement it before the Terran Coalition found out.”

“They will all feel the embrace of the League, Admiral. We must have faith and keep pushing forward.”

“Are you reading the same battle reports I am, Colonel Strappi?”

“We have had…setbacks.”

Seville laughed. “I see you’re back into your groove as our morale officer. A setback would be losing two battlegroups in a year. A setback would be one fleet carrier heavily damaged. In the last four weeks, we’ve lost two fleet carriers, four battlegroups, and enough ships to create an entirely new fleet. That’s not a setback; it’s an outright disaster!”

Strappi looked to Seville. He was like a man cornered; not willing to voice an opinion either way, he merely sat mute. “I know, we can’t say such things. It doesn’t matter, Colonel; it’s still true.”

“And? Do you have a plan to stop it?”

“Bleed the Terrans and the Saurians dry, trade space for time, and counterpunch once we’ve hurt them enough to make it count.”

“Will we get enough ships?” Strappi asked.

“Eventually. Chairman Palis keeps promising more. I’ve got another surprise coming. The key will be deploying all of it at the right time.”

“Of course, Admiral.”

“Oh, keep up the morale, Colonel,” Seville retorted, taking another sip of his brandy. “We look bad to people who don’t understand what the state embodies on the galactic stage right now. In the end, it simply doesn’t matter. Let the neutral planets flock to the Terran Coalition. We’ll grind them all under our feet. And someday… you and I will show them what it looks like to successfully reeducate a population. The Monrovians used half measures and tried to build in—how did they put it—safeguards? The League knows that to make an omelet, you have to break some eggs. All for the glory of the state!”

“For the state, Admiral!” Strappi replied, lifting his drink in salute.

Just like a small dog to be led around. Seville smiled at the thought. Soon this season of defeat would be at an end, and the Terran Coalition would rue the day it was founded. He longed for that day. Once it came, he’d finally be able to take control of the League and turn it into the empire it should have been from the beginning.

THE END

Echoes of War: Book 3 – So Fight I: Colonel David Cohen risks everything in an all-or-nothing battle to turn the tide of war against the League of Sol.

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Echoes of War

Book 1 - Fight the Good Fight

Book 2 - Strong and Courageous

Book 3 - So Fight I

Book 4 - Gates of Hell

Book 5 - Keep the Faith

Book 6 - Run the Gauntlet

Book 7 - Finish the Fight

Breach of Faith

(With Gary T. Stevens)

Book 1 - Breach of Peace

Book 2 - Breach of Faith

Book 3 - Breach of Duty

Book 4 - Breach of Trust

Echoes of War Book Three - So Fight I

So Fight I by Daniel Gibbs

Copyright © 2019 by Daniel Gibbs

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Editing by Beth at BZhercules.com

3D Art by Benoit Leonard

This book is a work of fiction, the characters, incidents and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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1

November 18th, 2460

CSV Oxford

Deep Space – Inside League of Sol Border

Colonel Robert Sinclair, the commander of the Oxford’s intelligence analysis unit, put his hands on the railing that lined the second level of what they called “the pit.” Newly promoted after the Oxford was instrumental in helping to defeat the League plans to subvert Monrovia, he stared at the mass of humanity in the space below him.

Row after row of intelligence analysts sat side by side at computer consoles. Hung from the wall was a huge banner that bore the motto of Coalition Defense Force Intelligence: “In God We Trust, All Others We Monitor.” They were at silent running, with extremely tight emissions control engaged as the ship was stationed well behind enemy lines. Stealth was their only defense.

First Lieutenant Alon Tamir picked that moment to glance up from his station. He waved, attracting Sinclair’s attention.

Sinclair acknowledged the officer with a nod, then made his way down to the floor and over to the young man’s terminal. Tamir too had been recently promoted on Sinclair’s specific recommendation. The lieutenant doesn’t need to know that part, though. If I keep him on his toes and keep pushing him… someday he’ll be one heck of an intelligence officer.

“Just wanted to chat, or did you have something for me, Lieutenant?” Sinclair asked in his clipped, high-brow British accent.

“Well, sir, you know my pet project?” Tamir said, his voice bright and cheerful.

“Tracking down the location of the holy grail of intelligence… the League’s interarm logistical facility that we’re not even sure exists?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m quite familiar with that pet project, Lieutenant, from you talking about it ad infinitum.”

“I think I found something,” Tamir replied, pulling up an overlay of sensor logs. “I’ve been tracking the retreat of League ships from our last two months of engagements.”

“Looks like a jumbled mess to me, butter bars.”

Tamir grimaced. “With respect, sir, I’m no longer a butter bar.”

“You are until I say you’re not, Lieutenant,” Sinclair replied, a devilish grin painting his face. “Continue.”

“Well, it’s difficult to pinpoint the destination of a wormhole. Inexact science at best, but on some of these, we have excellent data, because CDF ships pursued them before the hole closed. There’s some outliers here, but when I filtered out the noise, this is what I got.”

A white box appeared around a large area in space, but substantially smaller than previous guesses Sinclair had seen for the whereabouts of the League facility. “There’s still a lot of space to cover there, Lieutenant.”

“I know, sir. I also believe League ships won’t just jump directly back to it. They’d have to have a protocol to throw us off.”

“Makes sense,” Sinclair said. “But this isn’t actionable. Let’s say I think you're onto something… what do you need to make progress?”

“Data, sir. A lot more data. Once I get the area narrowed down, then we need to run what amounts to a massive stealth drone sweep of the area and try to find the needle in the haystack.”

Sinclair stroked his chin. “What you’re saying is that we need more League ships to retreat.”

“Yes, sir,” Tamir answered, grinning. “That’s something they’re doing quite well lately.”

“Is that your expert opinion, or another guess?” Sinclair joked, drawing chuckles from around them.

“The last score I saw said we’ve scratched six League battlewagons in the last thirty days, along with over a hundred escorts. A couple of fleet carriers too. After the League plot on Monrovia was exposed, we’ve had what, ten neutral worlds sign on to the Canaan Alliance?”

“I saw that on Canaan News Network. Got any other amazing insights from the day’s headlines?” Sinclair cracked.

“Only that the League is going to run out of ships in our arm of the galaxy if they keep losing them at this rate.”

“Ah, that’s where you’re wrong, my young analyst. The League has vast numbers of ships. We’re not even sure how many they have, but we know we’ve never faced more than ten percent of their fleet at any given point. With our recent success, they will pour reinforcements in. That’s why we have a limited window to take down the existing League forces here, consolidate our positions, and then figure out how to bloody attack them for a change.”

“That’s the key, isn’t it, sir? How to beat an enemy so much larger than us?”

“The will to fight and to win is the key,” Sinclair insisted. “Our esprit de corps is so far better than the League’s, so much, so it’s not even a comparison,” he said, pausing a moment to switch gears. “I need to walk the floor. In the meanwhile, I’ll authorize you to pull in an additional analyst to assist with your little project,” he finished. “Don’t disappoint me, Lieutenant. Don’t forget your main objective is to find us another League battlegroup to destroy.”

“Yes, sir!”

* * *

December 9th, 2460

CSV Lion of Judah

Patrol Route Gamma-7 Terran Coalition/League of Sol Border

Prior to the first day of Hanukkah, Colonel David Cohen, commanding officer of the Lion of Judah, had asked Rabbi Kravitz to help him plan a celebration in the wardroom to honor it. Ramadan had already passed, and Christmas would occur in just over two weeks. David had joined Hassan Amir, the commander of the Lion’s space fighter wing in celebrating the first night of Ramadan, and he would also participate in the Christmas festivities, but Hanukkah was special to him. Some of the best memories of my childhood were from Hanukkah and my father’s gifts… if only he could be here now.

“Come in! Come in!” David called, standing just inside the door, greeting each person as they walked in.

First Lieutenant Ruth Goldberg, the Lion’s Tactical Action Officer, or TAO for short, came through the door, carrying a large bag. “Sorry I’m late, sir. Took some doing to get the gelt made,” she said as an apology.

Angela Dinman, the embedded reporter, known as Angie to the crew, was already in the room. “What’s a gelt?” she asked, her eyebrows raised.

“Money. That’s what it means in Yiddish,” Ruth replied, a smile on her face. “In ancient times during Hanukkah, Jews would give money to the poor and children in our communities. Well, we’d do that anyway, but especially at Hanukkah. The tradition has morphed into giving out pieces of chocolate that look like coins. We’ll need these at several points in the celebration tonight.” As she spoke, Ruth started putting out the little chocolate coins at each place setting.

The next arrival was Rabbi Evez Kravitz; he was also a Lieutenant Colonel in the CDF and the Jewish chaplain for the ship. He carried a giant, ornate menorah. It consisted of a large candlestick with nine slots; four on either side of a single rod that stood taller than the rest.

“Let me help you, Rabbi,” David said as he grasped one side of the menorah, guiding the older man to a table that David had prepared to set it on.

“Thank you, Colonel,” Kravitz replied.

“Hey, is there free food in here?” Lieutenant Colonel Calvin Demood’s distinctive voice boomed into the wardroom as the senior Marine strode in; he was the commander of the Terran Coalition Marine Corps unit onboard the Lion.

Everyone already in the room laughed. “Anything for a free meal, eh, Colonel?” David commented dryly.

“Nothing tastes better than free food, sir,” Calvin deadpanned to chuckles from those assembled.

After the laughter had subsided, David shook his head with a grin on his face. “You’ll need to run some laps after this meal. Some of the food is fried, much of the rest is high fat. A very filling meal.”

“Fried? Why?” Angie again asked, her curiosity apparently piqued.

“It’s a tradition around Hanukkah… the basis for the celebration is a day’s worth of oil lasted for eight. It was when the Maccabees recaptured Jerusalem and drove out the Greek invaders several thousand years ago on Earth. So we cook everything in oil to celebrate the miracle of the oil lasting,” Ruth said with a smile as she handed Kravitz several of the chocolate gelt coins. “For you, Rabbi!”

“Thank you, Ruth,” Kravitz replied, a broad, jovial grin framing his face.

“Greetings, humans,” another voice shouted into the wardroom. It belonged to Lieutenant Colonel Talgat Aibek, the Saurian exchange officer that was the executive officer of the Lion of Judah. After a couple of months, he was well accepted and respected by the crew and officers of the ship. “Take me to your leader! I bring fresh meat to fry up.”

David laughed. “Aibek, I told you last time… the joke is dead. Stick a fork in it.”

“Better not be a mouse, Colonel, sir,” Ruth said in a sarcastic tone as she laughed.

“No, I save the mice for myself,” Aibek said, his scales shifting colors as he joined in with a snicker.

“Who else is coming?” David asked.

“Lieutenant Hammond and Doctor Tural both told me they wouldn’t miss it,” Ruth replied.

“So there will be more gentiles than Jews here, in other words?”

“An opportunity to convert them, Colonel Cohen?” Aibek said.

“For the last time, we’re not the guys who seek converts. That’s the Christians and Muslims,” David complained in a faux annoyed tone. This particular line of banter was a staple with Aibek.

“Then how does your religion expand? I’m confused,” Angie said.

“We’re fruitful and multiply, especially if we’re Ultra-Orthodox,” Ruth answered between giggles.

“Ahem, can we stay away from religious discussions and get back to the celebration? I’ve got a rule on religious debates in the wardroom for a reason,” David said.

“Who said anything about a debate?” Aibek asked innocently. “I haven’t tried to convert you all yet, even.”

“Oh Lord, help us all,” Lieutenant Robert Taylor, the communications officer, said as he stepped through the hatch. “I brought the dreidels,” he said, dropping a sack near the table. “Thirty of them. Real wood. Any idea how much that weighs?”

“Hey, comms geek, quit complaining about lifting some toys and come work out in the gym like your dad used to,” Calvin called out.

“I think a point goes to the Marine on that one,” David said as the entire group laughed.

Next through the hatch was Lieutenant Shelly Hammond, the Lion’s senior navigator. A bookish woman in her early thirties, Hammond had distinguished herself in her short time on the ship. “Hey everyone,” she said as she walked in. “Sorry I’m late.”

“No one’s ever late at a Jewish festival,” David joked. “Thank you for coming!”

Hammond grinned as she said, “Glad to be here, sir.”

Ruth began to walk around the room, dropping piles of the chocolate coins onto every place setting. Hammond stared at her, puzzled. “What’s that for?”

“We use it to play with the dreidels.”

“What do we do with them?” Hammond asked.

“I’ll explain once everyone is here so I won't bore you all with multiple repetitions,” Ruth replied as she continued to set the gelt out.

“Salam alaikum!” Lieutenant Colonel Hassan Amir called out, an Arabic saying for “peace be upon you,” as he walked into the wardroom; he was the commander of the Lion’s embarked space superiority fighter and bomber wing. A friend of David’s for many years, it had been a highlight of the past several months to serve together again.

“Wa-Alaikum-Salaam,” David answered, the traditional Arabic reply, which meant “and unto you peace.”

Doctor Izmet Tural strode through the hatch, right behind Amir. He was the Lion’s chief medical officer; while David had just begun to get to know him, the older physician’s command of medical knowledge and bedside manner was impressive. “Shalom!” he shouted, a broad grin on his face.

“Shalom!” David and Ruth called out at the same time.

“Thank you for coming, Doctor,” David said as he finished setting up the menorah candles and returned to his seat at the table they were gathered around.

“I figured I should be on hand, just in case there was a grease-induced heart attack,” Tural said. “There was a time when many humans ate fried foods regularly.”

“Some still do,” Calvin cracked to laughter from the room. “Hamburgers, bacon, and fried okra! Mmmmm!”

“Is there something wrong with this food?” Aibek asked.

“There are optimum things for humans to eat. Fried food isn’t on that list,” Tural explained. “Many of us love to eat, though. Thankfully, our technology has enabled us to deal with most ailments, usually through medication. To think cancer was once a death sentence… now a few pills and the patient is never bothered again. Most of the time, we catch it through markers, which daily health scans catch.”

“I suspect our level of technology would be considered miraculous to those from several hundred years ago,” David said as he tossed a piece of chocolate gelt up and down in his hand.

“That’s because higher technology is considered magic to lower level species, and excellent proof there is no supernatural force at work in the universe,” a loud voice called out from beyond the open hatch. It belonged to Doctor Benjamin Hayworth, the scientist behind the anti-matter reactor that set the Lion of Judah apart from the rest of the fleet. It was this reactor which supplied nearly unlimited amounts of power and allowed the Lion to field advancements that ships powered with fusion reactors couldn’t begin to support.

“No religious debates in the wardroom,” David said as he forced himself not to roll his eyes.

Hayworth stepped into the room while being poked in the ribs by Major Elizabeth Merriweather’s elbow. She was the CDF program manager for Doctor Hayworth’s science team.

“Fancy seeing you here, Doctor,” Amir said politely, but with a definite edge to his voice.

“I enjoy spending time with my friends and colleagues, no matter what childish superstitions they may hang on to, Colonel Amir,” Hayworth said as Merriweather elbowed him yet again. “But, no need to discuss that tonight. I’m just looking forward to some fried chicken!”

Shaking off mild annoyance, David reflected on his evolving relationship with Hayworth. Yeah, the guy presents as a jerk, but I’ve discovered over the last few months, under that prickly personality of his, there’s a good guy in there. One who is willing to do his part to help win the war against the League and stand up against injustice.

“Hey, everyone,” Major Arthur Hanson, the ship’s chief engineer and certified reactor nerd said as he crossed under the hatch. Hanson, along with Ruth, had served with David for six months before their postings on the Lion of Judah.

“Nerds of a feather flock together,” Calvin said, seemingly always eager to poke fun at the technical members of the crew.

“Quit ragging on the nerds, Colonel!” Taylor called out from his perch in the back of the room. “One of the things I know for a fact is the comms geeks, as you put it, have saved your rear end more than once in your career.”

“Is that a fact?” Calvin asked, clearly amused.

“Yes, it is,” Taylor said in a smug tone.

“Yeah, whatever. Just remember who saves your ass from the League when they board the ship. How many more nerds did you invite to this shindig, Colonel? I mean, what’s next, the contractors show up?”

“Hey, you're talking about me, Colonel,” Kenneth Lowe, the program manager and leader of the three-hundred-strong contingent of defense contractors assigned to the ship; they implemented upgrades and assisted the engineering crew since there had been no time for the normal six- to nine-month workout cruise. “As long as you’re talking about me, it's all good.” David had taken a liking to the lanky contractor; he was over two meters tall and nearly hit every bulkhead on the ship.

“Keep thinking that while we make fun of you behind your back,” Calvin said as he smirked. “Hey, could you go get me a cable stretcher?”

“Really? You’ll have to try harder than that to get me off on a snipe hunt, Colonel.”

“I got taken in by that one when I was right out of boot camp,” David said to shocked stares from everyone in the room.

“Surely you’re kidding, sir?” Amir asked.

“Nope,” David said, shaking his head sadly. “I wandered around the ship I was posted to for two hours looking for that thing. I eventually ended up on the bridge, asking the CO for it.” There were chuckles and laughter from everyone in the room; David could still remember how red his face turned when Major Pipes told him that there was no such device. “I got my revenge on the guy that put me up to it, though. I sold him on looking for a CGA display adaptor for one of the monitors that had shorted out.”

“A what?” Hanson asked.

“Some five-hundred-year-old monitor technology that no one knows about except for some teacher I had in high school that berated us for not answering a question about it right in a technology history class,” David said, smirking. “I never forgot it, thanks to his outburst.”

“Maybe we should try to get someone to go get us a bucket of shuttle wash,” Kenneth mused, to more laughter.

“I can’t believe people fall for that one,” Ruth said.

“Best response I ever got to that was a private bringing me a bucket of cleaning solution that we use on the fighters’ stealth coatings. I was mildly impressed,” Hasan interjected. “Still told him that wasn’t right and sent him off to the next pilot, who supposedly had some.”

“We could always get the contractors off the ship and get qualified military engineers,” Calvin said, returning to his previous line of jest.

Kenneth leaned forward in his seat, a smug smile on his face. “Qualified military engineers… I didn’t realize the Marines had engineers.”

“Marines don’t have engineers because engineers build targets. Marines blow up targets,” Ruth said, laughing as she did.

“I don’t see you guys hating on Marines when you need your butts saved,” Calvin groused good-naturedly.

Kravitz coughed loudly. “Ahem. Perhaps we’re getting off track, yes? We’re all here to enjoy fellowship and the lighting of the menorah.”

“Exactly, Rabbi,” David said, steering the conversation toward a friendlier path. “I think it's about time for us to get started.”

“Yes, it is,” Kravitz agreed. “Everyone, please take your seats as we prepare to honor the miracle of oil after the temple was liberated and cleansed through the ritual of Hanukah,” he continued as he walked around and lit the middle candle of the menorah, which sat above the rest. “This is called the shamash candle; it is the keeper candle, and if another should go out, we use this one to relight it.”

David watched, thinking back to his childhood. Dad lighting the menorah was so much fun. He’d tell the story of the Maccabees and try to impress Mom with his knowledge. It never worked either. He smiled, the memory fading in his mind.

“Now I will pray the traditional prayer of blessing for the menorah, and you may all join in as you can,” Kravitz said before launching into the Hebrew prayers; David spoke Hebrew fluently and knew them by heart himself. “Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the universe, who has sanctified us with His commandments and commanded us to kindle the Hanukah light. Bless are You, Lord our God, King of the universe, who performed miracles for our forefathers in those days, at this time. Bless are You, Lord our God, King of the universe, who has granted us life, sustained us and enabled us to reach this occasion.”

David reflected on the words of the prayer, pondering the meaning they had today. Today, we need the same miracle to sustain us in this fight and ensure the light of our people will not perish from the face of the galaxy. I wonder how the soldiers all those years ago, who kept winning against a more numerous foe, felt. The pattern keeps repeating itself.

Kravitz, who still held the shamash candle, used it to light the further candle to the left, before returning it to its place in the center of the menorah. He stepped back and turned around, smiling from ear to ear. “And now, it is time for us to enjoy the light of the menorah, the light of our friends and extended family, and their company this evening. Ruth, get us started!”

Ruth stood up from her place at the table and began to pass out dreidels to everyone present.

David took his with a nod of thanks while grinning from ear to ear. This was how life should be enjoyed—in the company of our friends and comrades.

2

Ruth stepped out of the wardroom around midnight to head back to her quarters. She was mildly startled to find Angie right behind her. “Ms. Dinman, heading back to your quarters?”

“Angie, please. Ms. Dinman is my mother,” Angie replied, trying to break the ice.

“I tend to be formal around the press.”

“I’m not always the press, as you put it.”

“You’re not always taking notes on us to put in your reports?” Ruth asked in a skeptical tone.

Angie shook her head. “No.”

Ruth continued to walk down the passageway, Angie side by side with her. “I apologize. I’m not the biggest fan of your network. I shouldn’t translate that dislike onto you without cause.”

“You’re not the only one, trust me. I don’t think anyone on this ship I’ve met likes my network, or me, for that matter.”

“Kind of makes you wonder how GNN stays in business if it’s so disliked.”

“That’s an over-generalization, Ruth. There’s plenty of people who watch us religiously. We’re normally tied for second, sometimes third overall.”

“I don’t know anyone that watches your holobroadcast without screaming at the talking heads,” Ruth said with a chuckle.

“Look, I get it. The military doesn’t like us holding their feet to the fire.”

Ruth stopped, and her eyes drilled into Angie. “I don’t mind having our feet held to the fire. Someone has to watch the watchers. What I do mind is seeing one of your pundits try to destroy the reputation of one of the finest commanders in the fleet.”

Angie stopped walking and turned back to Ruth. “I take it you mean Colonel Cohen?”

“Yes.”

“Fifty thousand people work for GNN. I’m not the one who did the interview you’re referring to. I’m just trying to do my job and tell the truth.”

Ruth wore a frown; her emotions were bubbling to the surface. “How about telling the truth about the League?”

Angie crossed her arms in front of her. “Lieutenant, I do tell the truth about the League. Angie Dinman, the person, hates the League of Sol and everything they stand for. Angie Dinman, the reporter, tells exactly what happens, without cheerleading, without embellishment. You know, I want to find a friend here—someone who doesn’t look at me and see some jerk reporter. I live with you people. I want you to win. Maybe someone on this damn ship will meet me halfway.” Angie turned on her heel and began to walk away quickly.

“Wait!” Ruth called out, suddenly red in the face and feeling ashamed of her behavior.

Angie took a few more steps before stopping and turning around. “Yes?”

“I’m sorry, Angie.” Ruth began to walk closer. “I shouldn’t have acted like that.” She looked down the passageway, past Angie. “‘I was a stranger, and you welcomed me.’”

“I don’t follow.”

“Something I read this week from the Bible.”

“The Bible? I didn’t think Jews read the Christian holy book.”

“They don’t, usually. It’s a long story. You know what? I could use a friend too. What do you say?” Ruth stuck out her hand.

Angie shook Ruth’s hand. “Works for me.”

The two of them resumed walking down the passageway, side by side. “I apologize for biting your head off. I’m pretty stressed out lately.”

“Why?”

“Our battle rhythm is very fast-paced right now. The Lion is on a two-week stand down to perform an engineering review of our anti-matter reactor and get some new pilots. Before that, we were in combat daily. That kind of pace wears on everyone.”

“We’ve suffered a lot of causalities in the last two months,” Angie commented.

“I try to read the list of names when it comes over, every day,” Ruth replied, momentarily shutting her eyes.

“It’s a lot of names.”

“Someone should read them. Someone should remember. I remember them every time I destroy another League ship. I remember my parents, my friends. Never again.” A tear slid down Ruth’s face as she spoke. “Okay, let’s change topics because I’d like to be happy for just a few minutes.”

Angie offered her a small smile. “It’s been tough to find something to think of, to reflect on, besides this war.”

“It’s been my life for far too long.”

“Got any plans for what you will do when you get out?”

“Can’t say that I do,” Ruth replied. “This is all I’ve known for most of my life. Even if I did get out, what would I do? Expert level qualifications at killing Leaguers isn’t exactly going to put my resume at the top of the pile.”

“On the bright side, there’s a free education once you get out. That’s how I put myself through college for a journalism degree.”

“Yeah… I can’t think about it, Angie. I only have the here and now. Beyond next week, I can’t see it. What about you?”

“Oh, you know… build out my career, get married, have some kids. What normal people do, right?”

“Normal is a setting on a washing machine,” Ruth said with a smirk on her face. “It’s one I don’t have.”

“What do you do for fun, then?”

“What’s fun, exactly?”

“Girl stuff?”

Ruth stopped and looked at Angie. “Girl stuff? I’m a military officer. I don’t have time for getting my nails done, my hair colored, or wine and cheese tastings. If that’s what you want in a friend, you’ll have to look elsewhere.”

Angie furrowed her brow with a frown. “Anyone ever tell you that you're incredibly intense?”

“Yeah. It’s why I don’t have many friends,” Ruth said as she sighed. “Again, I’m sorry. It's not your fault, and I’ll try to do better on not biting your head off.” I do need a friend or two. The way I’m going through life is no way to live. On top of that, it’d be nice to be friends with someone who isn’t in the military and has perhaps a different perspective on life.

“I get told I have resting grumpy face a lot.”

Ruth laughed. “Yeah, me too.”

The two of them resumed walking down the passageway, laughter echoing through it. Ruth considered for a moment that perhaps she had found a new friend; for a brief moment, the idea made her happy.

* * *

After helping clean up the mess and leftovers from the festivities, David found himself back in his quarters, sitting on his couch. Since the Lion of Judah was off station and undergoing repairs and refitting, he was able to sleep in the large stateroom, really a suite, rather than the cramped day cabin on deck one that doubled as a sleeping space and office. I’ve been saving up my commlink credits. Let’s see if Mom is still awake. I’m sure she will be. After a few rings, Sarah Cohen’s smiling face appeared on the screen.

“Happy Hanukkah, David! Oh, it’s so nice to hear your voice and see you!” Sarah exclaimed.

“Happy Hanukkah to you too, Mom. I’m sorry it’s been a month since we talked. I’ve been saving my credits, though, so we could talk today. I wasn’t sure if you could pick up or not.”

“Well, technically, the light of the menorah is still burning, so I shouldn’t… but I couldn’t go without talking to my baby.”

David grimaced a bit. “Mom, I’m not a baby.” I wish she’d quit referring to me like that… I’m almost forty!

“You will always be my baby boy,” Sarah insisted. “My only son.”

“How are you doing?” David replied, determined to change the subject.

“Oh, I’m holding up well. You’re still all over the news, you know. All my friends do is talk about it. David did this, David did that.”

“I suppose that’s to be expected when I’m commanding the largest warship in the Terran Coalition,” he said with a grin. “It’s quite the posting.”

“I still worry for you, more than you know.”

“Mom, I know. But you know what? I’m probably on the safest post I could be, aside from assigned to station duty.”

“Did you have a good Hanukkah?”

“I did,” David answered. “Many of the Jewish officers joined me, along with the rabbi and some gentiles who wanted to celebrate with us. We had a good time.”

“Are any of those Jewish officers cute girls, by any chance?”

Ugh, Mom. Stop trying to get me married off to a nice Jewish girl and pump out kids. “Well, as a matter of fact, some of them are women. However, as I’m sure you know… I’m the commanding officer of the ship. I can’t fraternize with anyone under me.”

“You need to get married.”

“Why, because I’m getting old?”

“No, because I want to hold a grandchild before I die,” Sarah replied, her voice breaking a little at the end.

“Mom…you’re not even seventy. You’ve got half your life in front of you.”

“Only Adonai knows how many days either of us has left, son. I take nothing for granted.”

“In my line of work, Mom, I can’t focus on it. What will happen, will happen. I’ve got to do the best I can in the meanwhile,” David replied, annoyance creeping into his voice.

“Just find a nice girl and start dating her.”

“Mom… we’ve been over this. I’m not getting married until I’m out of the service.”

“Why?”

David fought down anger; he’d had the same conversation with his mother only God knew how many times. “Because it’s not fair for me to leave a wife and children behind if I die on the battlefield.” He instantly regretted the directness of his words.

Sarah began to cry; the usual outcome of this particular conversation. “I can’t lose you…”

“I’m sorry, Mom,” David said, closing his eyes and hanging his head. “Look, I’m not going anywhere. I’m too stubborn for the League to kill.”

“Promise?” Sarah asked between sobs.

“I promise,” David answered, wanting more than anything just to run away from the conversation.

“You know I’m proud of you, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” David said. “You know I’m proud of you too?”

“For what?” Sarah asked, surprise in her voice.

“For carrying on after Dad died. For molding me into the man I am, and instilling your values into me. Without your guidance and teaching, who knows where I would’ve ended up? It's not easy being an Orthodox Jew. It’s even harder to be a single mother and an Orthodox Jew.”

Sarah started to cry again, but now she was smiling. “Hearing you say that means so much to me.”

A few tears rolled down David’s face. “I’ve been working on trying to share my emotions.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“What’s next for you?”

“You know I can’t say, Mom. Loose lips sink ships and all that.”

“Your father used to say that.”

“Where do you think I got it from?” David replied, grinning.

“Are you going to be home any time soon?”

“I don’t know, Mom,” David said as he shrugged his shoulders. “But if I am and can get planetside, I promise I’ll come to see you. Nothing beats your home cooking.”

“Oh, so you only come to eat?” Sarah asked in a faux annoyed tone.

“Well, no. But it's hard to find kosher cooking around here. I’m stuck eating kosher meals-ready-to-eat most of the time.”

“How the military got that drivel declared kosher, I’ll never know. It’s an affront to God.”

David laughed. “I have a confession. I look forward to the pre-packaged religious meals running out. Then I can get some real food without breaking the law.”

“Don’t tell that to the rabbi!” Sarah said, laughing hard as she spoke.

“I’m almost out of credits, Mom.”

“Thank you for calling me.”

“Every time I’m able. I love you, Mom.”

“I love you too, son. Come home safe.”

“I’ll do my best. Shalom!” David said as the commlink disconnected from lack of remaining credits. Setting the tablet aside, he sat back and put his feet up. There’s a part of me that misses her badly, and there’s a part of me that’s sick of being told I need to get married and produce kids. I suppose family is just messy. The truth is, I wouldn’t mind having a family. I just can’t put them through what we went through. That fate isn’t fair to those left to pick up the pieces. Though I wonder if I use that as a way to hide. If my father had thought like that, I would have never been born. He fell asleep on the couch, still pondering that line of logic.

3

Justin Spencer, the President of the Terran Coalition and commander-in-chief of the military, sat on a small couch in his office, referred to as the Oval Office in common vernacular. It was modeled after an American design dating back to their White House. We Americans do tend to take over everything. Sometimes for good, sometimes for evil, but it’s just what we do. The Chief Minister of the Saurian Empire, Obi Sherazi, sat directly across from him; less than three months ago, he’d shocked the known galaxy by joining with the Terran Coalition to reform the Canaan Alliance and declare war on the League of Sol. Saurians were a race of reptilian humanoids who shared the local galactic arm with the humans of the Terran Coalition. The only other people in the room were a single bodyguard from each nation; aside from private time with his family, this was as close to alone as Spencer ever got.

“There is honor in victory,” Sherazi said, breaking into Spencer’s thoughts.

“There can be honor in defeat as well.”

“For a Saurian, defeat means death,” Sherazi replied, the scales on his head flexing.

“For us, there are times when being defeated in a noble fight is still honorable. I think we humans tend to romanticize an unwinnable fight and the people who fought in it.”

“Maybe that explains the fascination with the Alamo I witnessed on the ship I traveled here on; the CSV Sam Houston.”

“She’s named after the first president of the Republic of Texas,” Spencer replied, grinning. “And yes, Texans take the Alamo very seriously. Even though no one has seen Texas for four hundred years! There’s an entire planet of Texans within the American republic.”

“Colorful people. There are so many different types of humans. Different skin colors, different shapes, sizes, abilities,” Sherazi observed.

“Saurians also have many different types, don’t you?”

“Have you ever seen a short Saurian?” Sherazi replied, laughing. “In a bygone era, we simply killed any offspring that didn’t measure up to our ideals. This went on for so long that we bred out many genes. It took a long time for our values to evolve. It took the Prophet to start the process, but we even managed to mess that up. Our leaders killed him, tried to bury his teachings, and it was many generations and hundreds of years before the truth spread.”

“Humans are no different in this arena, Obi. Our history is one of violence, war, genocide, and man’s inhumanity to man. Still, throughout our history, there were always a few who tried to do what was right. They, inspired I believe by God, bent the curve toward freedom, justice, and what we now consider to be morality.”

“It wasn’t so long ago that Saurians believed enslavement was a just punishment,” Sherazi replied.

“Not so long for us either. Heck, there’s a neutral planet beyond our border, made up of humans who believe another group of humans with different skin tones is inferior to them. No race has a monopoly on stupidity.”

“Most of you do not think in that manner, though. I have personally spoken to many of our exchange officers, and I have been consistently impressed by how they were welcomed with open arms into your ranks. Even though we are aliens with a different values system.”

“I’m grateful to hear it,” Spencer replied. “At the risk of sounding like a greeting card, we owe the success of the last two and a half months to the Saurian Empire’s involvement in this war.”

Sherazi waved his hand. “No. We joined , late in the game as you humans say. We should have been there twenty-seven years ago. Perhaps if we had, the League would not have attacked. Perhaps maybe things would have been different. If we had shown power in the face of aggression and stood up for what was right and just, the fight would have been far easier. The Terran Coalition has instead fought on for dozens of years, alone… rather than surrender and accept slavery to the League. As a Saurian who believes in the ideals of honor, allow me to say that never before or since in our history do I believe a people as noble as the Terran Coalition has existed, outside of the Saurian Empire, of course.”

“A human would say that sounded almost Churchillian in tone.”

Sherazi grinned. “A Saurian researcher once wrote a book on the best human leaders and what Saurians could learn from them. Half the book was on Winston Churchill.”

Spencer laughed. “That’s great. Saurians writing leadership books on old Winston. Somewhere, he’s spinning in his grave.” He turned serious as he glanced back at Sherazi and made eye contact. “As much success as we’ve had, the TCMC,” he continued, using the acronym for the Terran Coalition Marine Corps, “is running out of manpower.”

“You need more Saurian ground troops?”

“If we’re to have any hope of recapturing League-held worlds, yes.”

“That is a far harder stream to ford than committing our Imperial Navy assets. There’s something about putting Saurian boots on the ground to help capture human worlds that has incredible internal resistance.”

“I understand. There is a difference between the risk to ships and the optics of tens of thousands of ground troops. Could you help us garrison our border worlds? A lot of TCMC resources are tied down with that task now. If we could free them up…”

“There’s more than one way to catch your dinner. I like the idea, Justin. I will make the proposal to our assembly. Give me a week to press scales and get back to you?”

“Of course,” Spencer replied. “Politics is politics, regardless of our race, eh?”

“Some things never change,” Sherazi said dryly.

“I have something I need to brief you on.”

Sherazi raised a scale over his right eye. “Oh?”

“CDF Intelligence has been working on something for a very long time. I’m sure you’ve read reports speculating about the existence of a League space station between the two galactic arms?”

“Yes. It’s been rumored to be out there for years and years. Our intelligence service believes it’s a figment of your collective imaginations.”

“It’s not.”

“Do you have proof?”

Spencer just smiled widely. “We found it last night.”

Sherazi leaned forward in his seat. “Does Admiral Kartal know yet?”

“No. No one outside of my SecDef, the intelligence officers who found it, their chain of command, and now us, know. We intend to either destroy or capture it. I wanted to brief you privately before informing SHAEF,” Spencer said, using the phonetic pronunciation of the acronym for Supreme Headquarters, Allied Expeditionary Force.

“Make no mistake; the Saurian Empire is with you until we capture Earth itself. I’ll ensure that my people are on board.”

“Thank you, Obi.”

* * *

“Major Hanson!” Doctor Benjamin Hayworth shouted at the top of his lungs, his voice bellowing across the cavernous engineering space deep within the Lion of Judah. Also called the engine room, that term had stuck for centuries. Over time, steam turbines were replaced with magnetohydrodynamic generators that transformed thermal energy produced by fusion, and now anti-matter reactors, into power consumable by the ship’s energy grid.

“Yes, Doctor?” Major Arthur Hanson, the Lion’s chief engineer, called back.

“Did you forget our appointment to discuss the reactor designs?”

“No, Doctor. I’m trying to tweak the new parts the contractors put in. Give me a minute,” Hanson yelled from behind one of the massive pieces of machinery. Not like I have anything else to do besides answer Hayworth’s every beck and call, Hanson thought to himself as he closed the panel he was working on and climbed down the ladder back to the familiar deck plating.

Wiping grime off his hands onto the standard issue CDF coveralls that the engineering crew wore, Hanson strode over to Hayworth and crossed his arms in front of him. “Ready, doc?”

“For the last time… don’t call me doc!” Hayworth thundered in return.

Hanson suppressed a smirk, knowing how easy it was to get a rise out of Hayworth. I probably shouldn’t do that, but the man is a complete jerk. Another side of his brain added, Yeah, maybe he’s a jerk because he’s always picked on. “Sorry, Doctor. I’m ready if you are.”

“Good. Follow me,” Hayworth replied, turning on his heel and walking off.

Hanson followed him outside of the engine room proper and to the nearest conference space, the aptly named “Conference Room Snipe,” as denoted by a sign next to the door. It was a reference to the engineering crew’s nickname: the snipes.

Hanson plopped down in one of the chairs, and Hayworth did the same. “Have you reviewed the designs I sent you, Major?”

“Yes. The miniaturization factor isn’t high enough for anything smaller than a heavy cruiser as of yet. Still, installing anti-matter reactors into our fleet carriers and heavy cruisers will be a serious upgrade in both survivability, and in the case of our cruisers, double or triple the firepower.”

“What we need is a new design of ships, not refits of old ones,” Hayworth complained. “Why can’t the military get its mind around the fact that this is bleeding-edge technology, not a refinement of tired old fusion reactors.”

“Doctor, they’re doing the best they can—"

“Oh yes, such a babe in the woods you are. No, they’re not. They’re either stupid, inept, or worse; perhaps they’re corrupt and unwilling to embrace the new technology because they profit off the old.”

“I’m not here to debate it with you, Doctor. I do have some suggestions for improving the miniaturization factor, however.”

“Which are?”

“By integrating the backup coolant loop into the main reactor housing, I believe we can achieve another eight to ten percent size reduction,” Hanson said as he passed his tablet over to Hayworth.

The older man reviewed the schematic for several minutes in silence before looking up. “These ideas have merit. Much more work is required to determine if it's safe to do what you propose, but if so… good job.”

Hanson’s jaw nearly hit the deck after the words “good job” fell out of Hayworth’s mouth. “Thank you, Doctor.”

“Do you have any other suggestions?”

“I’ll send you a file, but most are minor. You’ve taken the technology very far in a short period,” Hanson replied. Working with Hayworth, even with the attitude, is a fantastic opportunity. I’ve learned more in the last three months than I thought I knew about reactor design.

“Good. I have another pet project that the CDF would like me to work on. An enhanced energy weapons capacitor, designed to support the power inputs of an anti-matter reactor, and new model neutron beam emitters that can support double the charge. Elizabeth and I have discussed it, and if you’d like, we have room on the team for you during your off hours.”

That was unexpected. “Uh, sure. I’d love to, Doctor. What role would I take on the team?”

“Research assistant.”

And back down to reality. “You realize I used to lead teams on the Ajax fusion reactor program,” Hanson said, his voice trailing off.

“Of course I realize that,” Hayworth replied, cracking a smile. “You don’t think I’d assign you as a research assistant, do you now, my boy? I was thinking lead investigator for the new materials program around the capacitor. We’ve got some promising candidates of synthetic metals that withstand incredible amounts of heat. I want you to get to the bottom of which one we should use.”

Overreacted, much? “No problem, Doctor,” Hanson said, recovering quickly. “I’d love to help.”

“Well, then, let’s get back at it. I have a remote lecture this afternoon, and I will not be held up,” Hayworth said as he stood. “I’ll get back to you on a time for our kickoff discussion.” Hayworth tossed Hanson’s tablet back across the conference table.

“Thanks, Doctor,” Hanson said to a wave from Hayworth as he exited the room. Fresh challenges await… and more working with the doctor. What could go wrong?

* * *

Kenneth Lowe, the resident leader of the civilian defense contractors on the Lion of Judah, an employee of SSI—Stridesclyeth Shipboard Integrators, Limited—stumbled into the officers’ mess after finishing his shower and morning routine. I hate space showers. Less than two minutes of water, you don’t even feel clean afterward. Especially after I force myself through thirty minutes on the treadmill. The contractor team leads, Kenneth, and his direct reports were allowed special privileges to enter and eat at the officers’ mess, one of the perks David had given them after the second Battle of Canaan. This particular morning, he got a mug of piping hot coffee, along with a bagel and low-fat cream cheese.

Taking a seat at a four-person table that was empty and with his back to the room, Kenneth gazed out at the blackness of space. After pausing to pray over his food silently, he took a sip of the coffee and began to perk up.

“Mind if I join you?” the voice of David called out from behind him.

Kenneth quickly set the coffee mug down and stood up. “Of course, sir.”

“Would you stow the ‘sir’ stuff? It's not even 0600, and you're still not in the military.”

“Yes, si… uh.”

David shook his head with a grin and sat down in the chair across from Kenneth. “Sit down.”

Kenneth sat back down and felt somewhat silly. The truth is, I don’t quite fit in here. I’ll never truly be one of them, even if they act like I am. “Having a good morning?”

“Up at 0430… exercised… crappy two-minute space shower, and here we are.”

“About the same as me,” Kenneth observed with a bit of smirk. “On the plus side, they have to salute you.”

“That’s not all it’s cracked up to be, trust me,” David replied before waving at someone behind them. “Lieutenant, over here.”

A moment later, Ruth appeared at the table. She seemed shocked to see Kenneth sitting there. “Good morning, sir.”

“Please, join us.”

“Of course, sir,” Ruth answered.

“I insist. I do have an ulterior motive… I wanted to ask you both how the reactor upgrades are affecting weapons and shields.”

Ruth sat down next to David, on the other side of the table.

“Well, sir,” Kenneth began. “We got the parts in to improve the fuel flow regulators per the new specifications. The implementation team finished that up last week.”

Ruth took a sip of coffee before speaking. “Since then, the engineering crew confirmed we have a six-percent increase in available power.”

“Slightly less than projections… but more than we had two weeks ago. I’ll take it,” David said.

“What’s amazing is the six percent in increased output matches the entire fusion reactor output of an Ajax class destroyer, which was the highest of its size,” Kenneth said as he munched on a bite of bagel.

“Now what?” David asked.

“We’ll continue to upgrade the software around the automated fuel systems. Major Hanson can explain more fully, but my understanding is that there’s several more percent of optimization to be had by improving the machine learning algorithm and exposing it to sustained combat,” Ruth answered.

“Very good.”

Ruth hurriedly drank a quarter of her coffee mug, then jumped up. “If you don’t mind, sir, I’d like to get an early start on the bridge.”

“Of course,” David replied. “See you up there in a bit.”

“Yes, sir,” Ruth said before she turned on her heel and walked off.

Kenneth frowned a bit while taking another bite of bagel.

David glanced at him. “That was a bit odd. Lieutenant Goldberg is usually a bit of a chatterbox in the morning.”

“It might be me, sir.”

“I don’t follow.”

“Well, I asked her out a few days ago.”

David’s eyes shot so far open, they looked like they could pop out of their sockets. “You what?”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“This is a warship, you know. Not a cruise boat,” David commented dryly. “I’m taking it that she said no.”

“Yeah. It was just weird. I don’t think I offended her; we’ve just been awkward ever since.”

“I don’t need you being cross-eyed with the TAO. Do me a favor and give her some space for it to become less…awkward?”

“Yes, sir.”

“While we’re on the subject of awkward… Sabrina Blackman sent me a message yesterday.”

As if possessed, Kenneth’s face twisted into a scowl before he could force it back to a neutral expression. “Oh?”

“You’ve got to work on that poker face, Kenneth,” David said with a laugh. “Oh, it was an interesting message. She wanted to remove you.”

“I see.”

“Don’t worry… I hate government civilians even more than I hate most contractors,” David said, punctuating the last word with a snort. “I especially detest civilians that claim to know what they’re doing, make a ton of noise, and don’t know the first thing about the subject they claim to be experts at.”

“Well, sir, my mother used to teach me that if you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all. So I’ll smile and nod.”

David frowned. “I’m surprised you haven’t come to me about this. I discovered she'd forced some changes to the reporting structure of your team. Daily reports by everyone, four different monthly reports. I’ve never quite seen anything like it. That kind of administrative burden has to be affecting your ability to get things done.”

“Many government overseers like that kind of detail in the paperwork, sir. We didn’t want to pester you.”

“Is there anything else to this?” David asked.

Ugh, I don’t want to open this can of worms up with the colonel. “Honestly, I got crosswise with Ms. Blackman soon after she was assigned.”

“Details?”

“She asked an engineer to redo a manual using a template that’s not CDF standard. When the engineer objected, she told me to fire him.”

David broke into a wide smirk. “And after working with you for a few months, I’m going to go out a limb here and say you told her to pound sand.”

“I was polite about it.”

“I’ll deal with her,” David said with finality. “Why haven’t you been recruited by the government yet anyway?”

“They tried. I said no enough that it doesn’t come up anymore.”

“Why not? There’s a pension at the end of service.”

“Because I won’t have any job I where I can’t remove people who don’t do theirs. Especially when we’re doing things that matter as much as keeping ships in operation for the war effort,” Kenneth said.

“Did I mention lately I find your perspective to be refreshing?”

“No, sir… er, no.”

David smiled. “Well, keep it up. Anything you need from me?”

“We’re good. Special Projects has a list of things for us to do a few miles long,” Kenneth replied. “At this rate, the list will only be halfway done in three years.”

“I pray in three years we won’t be fighting this war.”

“Me too.”

David stood up. “I’d better be getting to the bridge myself. See you around, Kenneth.”

Kenneth jumped up. “Thank you again.” As David walked off, he was left standing in the mess. Time for me to get back to work.

4

December 29th, 2460

CDF Military Complex

Canaan

Admiral Resit Kartal, Supreme Allied Commander, Space Force for the Canaan Alliance, walked into an ornate conference room within the vast military complex on Canaan. Dozens of stories tall, extending deep into the ground, and so heavily reinforced that sustained orbital bombardment couldn’t destroy it without the use of strategic weapons, it was the crown jewel of CDF military administration. I prefer spartan quarters in the fleet to this overly soft palace. Warriors must stay focused on the battle. The comforts of home dilute that focus and cost lives. He had called a briefing with his senior staff, and leaders of the joint fleet. Operating strictly on a need-to-know basis, he and his most senior strategic advisor, and a specific CDF Intelligence officer who was present with them, had prepared to change the course of the war.

As soon as his Saurian form appeared in the doorway, everyone in the room—military and civilian—leaped to their feet. Those in uniform braced to attention.

He ticked off two seconds before speaking. “At ease. You may be seated.” Kartal took his place at the head of the table.

Kartal’s head scales flushed a deep purple as he began his address. “Thank you all for coming on such short notice. Today, we have much to discuss. A breakthrough has been achieved in our struggle with the League of Sol. CDF Intelligence has discovered the location of the space station that the League uses to project power across our arm of the Milky Way.”

Kartal was used to everyone paying attention to what he had to say; the stars on his shoulder guaranteed it. Everyone leaned forward, all the more interested in what he just said. “We have spent the last week ensuring the intelligence is correct. We double-, triple-checked the location and sowed stealth observation drones throughout the area. You, as the commanders of the space carrier battlegroups that make up our allied space force, now have a new set of orders. Every possible ship will stage at Canaan in a week.”

A human general who commanded the Ark Royal’s SCVBG—Space Carrier Battlegroup—spoke. “Admiral, we’re in active combat across several fronts. Shouldn’t we be more cautious, consolidate our strength… finish driving the League off our planets, and then strike back?”

“General Goodson, please tell me, what strategic value do marooned planets with no ability to project power have?”

The man’s face contorted. “There are citizens of the Terran Coalition on them, living under the thumb of League occupation. That outweighs every other consideration.”

“Does it? Would they like to momentarily be out from under the thumb of the League, or forever? I have briefed this until I am white in the face. If we do not decisively strike back against the League and force it to fight on our terms, there will be no victory. No! Our strategy will be to leave a token presence to keep the attention of League listening posts, and bleed every available combat ship off the front. I want a minimum of five hundred ships assembled for this battle, ladies and gentlemen.”

“Admiral, if I may, what’s your tactical plan for taking this League strongpoint?” Goodson asked.

“Deceptively simple, General. Kill Leaguers. Kill the Leaguer reinforcements. Capture the station. Keep killing Leaguers!”

It wasn’t lost on Kartal that several of the humans exchanged worried glances with one another. The Saurians, though, nodded their approval. Strong is our desire for combat. “The entire plan is available for viewing inside of the special compartmentalized communication suite on your flagships, or within this facility. I expect everyone to read it front to back, understand it completely, and be ready to execute by 0900 on Friday. That’ll give you a little under two days.”

“That’s not a lot of time, sir,” a brigadier general said from in the back, giving voice to what Kartal suspected many of them thought.

“No, it's not. There wasn’t a lot of time when the Royal Saurian Navy joined this war. We answered the call. There is rarely little time in war. This is actionable intelligence, backed by real-time surveillance. For my service, that’s the gold standard. I assume it is for the CDF as well?”

“Yes, sir,” the general replied, his tone appropriately chastened.

“Any other questions?” Kartal counted off five seconds mentally. “Good. Dismissed.”

* * *

David walked through a door marked as “Briefing Gallery C” in Canaan’s main military complex. This place is huge. Repurposed as the Supreme Allied Headquarters for the joint CDF and Royal Saurian Navy Expeditionary Force, it was so big, it was like its own city. Together with Aibek, he made his way to the assigned seat in the theater. There were rows and rows of seats; over a thousand in total. The entire room was jam-packed with ship commanders and their executive officers, as well as generals and other high-ranking officers from both militaries.

“All the shining brass blinds me, Colonel,” Aibek commented in sotto voce, taking his seat beside David.

David couldn’t help but snicker. “That’s your go-to line about flag officers.”

“It is consistently funny.”

“Point taken.”

Waiting patiently for the briefing to begin, David’s mind ran wild with possibilities. What could be so important as to drag what looks like half the ships in the fleet back to Canaan? They’d successfully pushed the League out of Terran Coalition space and recovered many of the occupied worlds, including the deep space mining operations that would fuel the shipyards of both the Coalition and the Saurians for decades to come. Whatever it is, it's big.

Suddenly, the room quieted down dramatically; from his seat two rows back from the front, David could see why. Admiral Resit Kartal walked onto the stage, dressed in a combat utility uniform. He’d been consistently impressed by the admiral. While some would let commanding a fleet of over eight hundred ships go to their respective heads, Kartal didn’t. It was always about the mission, and he was humble to a fault. Standing nearly six feet seven inches tall, he was massive even for a Saurian. The top of his head had a unique blue scale; David had never seen another Saurian with the same color scale combination before.

“Members of the Coalition Defense Force and Saurian Royal Navy, thank you for joining me today. I hope to explain over the next hour our plan to deliver a crippling blow to the League’s military efforts in the Sagittarian arm of our galaxy,” Kartal said as he opened his remarks. “Lights, please.”

The lights in the briefing theater dimmed, and a central holoprojector came to life. Classification markings indicated the briefing was rated as Top Secret, Special Compartmentalized Information with a caveat that marked it as viewable by all properly cleared members of the Canaan Alliance.

“What you are about to see is the culmination of six months of strategic planning and execution by the Allied Expeditionary Force staff,” Kartal continued. “I’d like to start by thanking the crew of the CSV Oxford, and specifically Colonel Robert Sinclair, who first found the location of our target.” Kartal paused for a moment as the holoprojector switched projections to show a system close to the edge of the Sagittarian arm. “It has been a mystery for some time to us as to how the League can seemingly throw endless amounts of war material at its enemies, while it lacks advanced logistical infrastructure in our region of space. Running in stealth mode, far ahead of our advance, the Oxford’s communications intercept team discovered the holy grail. We have found the League’s main logistical supply hub for its war efforts against our two nations.”

The holoprojector’s image switched yet again to show a sprawling space installation that, when viewed against the League ships present, had a truly massive scale. David marveled at how many years it must have taken to build such a structure.

“The Oxford has been monitoring this installation for the last two weeks, as we wrapped up clearing the League out from our space. With all known League battlegroups on our side of the frontier neutralized or forced to retreat, we are now in a position to strike a decisive blow in this war. Colonel Sinclair will now join us to explain what he’s learned about this installation and present our battle plan. Colonel?”

Robert Sinclair walked out onto the stage to stand next to Kartal before the two men shook hands. “Thank you, Admiral.”

Kartal handed Sinclair the small handheld clicker that controlled the holoprojector.

Sinclair quickly moved the presentation forward, showing a tactical map of the area around the League space station. “As you all can see here, the League installation is a sprawling collection of modules. We think it was built over many years, perhaps even decades. From what we can tell, there are numerous weapons emplacements, meters of armor protecting key areas, and large numbers of small tactical craft based within it. This thing is like an old-school castle or strongpoint. Getting in will be hard. Capturing it will be even harder.”

At the mention of the word “capture,” there was a wave of murmurs throughout the audience. Sinclair held up a hand. “Ladies and gentlemen, I did say ‘capture.’ We’ll need this installation for when we turn the tide and invade the Orion arm, taking this fight to Earth. What better way to do that than to use the League’s handiwork against them?”

David found himself nodding his head up and down, along with many others in the room. Turning the League’s base against them to use in invading Earth… that’s ironic and quite amusing.

“Taking it is not going to be easy, however. And every day, it gets harder. The League is sending reinforcements from its core worlds to reinforce their invasion fleet. Our best estimate is that we neutralized seven out of eleven battlegroups deployed against us, and most importantly, we eliminated three out of four fleet carriers they had in the fight.”

Sinclair pressed the clicker’s button again, and the holoprojector display switched to highlighting static defenses around the League station. “As you can see here, we’ll be flying into a hornet’s nest. We believe there are roughly three hundred static weapons emplacements on this base. There’re also nearly four hundred starships in orbit, along with at least a thousand fighters and bombers. In short, this is the most heavily fortified military installation the CDF or RSN has ever planned to attack.”

The room was utterly silent as Sinclair continued to speak. “Our battle plan is simple. We will stage five hundred and twenty-three starships in three separate rally points around this installation, at maximum Lawrence drive range for the largest vessels in the fleet. We’ve made a calculated risk to jump the carriers in with everything else, so we can quickly launch all available combat spacecraft they hold. All told, we will put nearly two thousand fast movers in play, along with every capital ship we can spare. Both the CDF and RSN will only hold back enough ships to defend our core worlds. We are, in effect, ladies and gentlemen, all in. This must work. Period. Failure is not an option.”

Sinclair paused for a moment, then turned back to Admiral Kartal. “Admiral, the floor is yours, sir.”

The massive Saurian admiral stepped forward, his eyes scanning the room. “You all are here because you command the ships that will follow my flagship into battle. Together, we will be victorious over the League of Sol. This is not the final battle, nor is it the end of this long and bloody war. But it will be the day that we banish the League from our galactic arm, and someday, it will be recognized as the beginning of the end for the League of Sol.”

Kartal paused for a moment. David wondered if the briefing was finished or if the admiral had more to say. “When we finally reach Earth and eradicate the League of Sol from this galaxy, I promise you all that the Leaguer’s version of French will only be spoken in hell.”

At those words, the room erupted into cheers and wild applause. Mixed emotions washed over David. The League is evil, and we need to defeat it. But are we cheering for the deaths of millions? If we’re not careful, we’ll end up just like them.

Kartal held up his large, scaled hand. “Do not celebrate prematurely, ladies and gentlemen. This battle will be hard. It will be bloody, and it will be long. We move out three days from now. I expect to see all ships ready to go. Good luck, and Godspeed to you all.”

As Kartal walked off the stage, the lights returned to average brightness and the mass of officers began to stand and head for the exits. David and Aibek stayed together, moving with the sea of humans and Saurians. Soon after they left the theater, General MacIntosh approached.

“Colonels,” MacIntosh said as a greeting.

David tensed. “General.”

“General,” Aibek said right after David.

“Colonel Aibek, would you give Colonel Cohen and me a few minutes alone?”

“Of course, sir. I’ll see you back on the Lion, Colonel.”

David cracked a smile. “Go get Admiral Kartal’s autograph.”

All three men laughed as Aibek walked away. David looked at MacIntosh. “What can I do for you, sir?”

MacIntosh gestured down a corridor that led further into the facility. “Walk with me.”

Over the last two months, David and MacIntosh had repaired the falling out they had after the events on Monrovia; he’d taken great care to nurture their relationship and ensure he carried out his orders to the best of his ability. He fell in beside MacIntosh, and they strode forward.

MacIntosh was the first to speak. “Colonel, how are you doing?”

“I’m holding up, sir.”

“Three months of nearly constant combat has to take a toll.”

“It does, sir. Two hundred fifty-eight is the number that sticks in my mind.”

“The Lion’s KIA total since you took command?”

“Yes, sir. It’s important to remember them.”

MacIntosh nodded. “Yes, it is, Colonel. But it’s also important to remember why they’re gone, and what we’re fighting for.”

“It doesn’t change that those people are never going home.”

“What do you think about the plan?” MacIntosh said.

“At a high level, it makes sense. I’d need to review the actual operational details to offer an informed opinion, though.”

“We’ll all have that opportunity, Colonel. I’ve reviewed the operational plan at length, and I think it’s our best chance of success. Admiral Seville is a capable and intelligent opponent, who even as he’s lost many engagements over the last few months, has managed to extract a heavy price from both our nations,” MacIntosh said.

David recalled some RUMINT—military slang for rumor intelligence—which was floating around the fleet. “I’ve heard the Saurians aren’t happy with the losses they’ve sustained.”

“CDF Intelligence believes that the League has focused on destroying Saurian ships specifically to drive a wedge between our two peoples. Good news for us is that President Spencer and Chief Minister Sherazi appear to have a bond between them that’s as good as steel. There’s no daylight in their desire to destroy the League.”

“But if hundreds of thousands of Saurians lose their lives, they could easily falter.”

“Yes, they could. Our job is to make sure it doesn’t happen, and we defeat the League and Seville, once and for all, at this logistical base they’ve established,” MacIntosh stated firmly.

“We’ll give it everything we have, sir.”

“I know you will. General Pipes sends his regards.”

David’s face brightened at the mention of his old mentor, General Benson Pipes. “I haven’t been able to call him lately, not enough vidlink credits left since we’re so far out. It’s hard enough to get a call through to my mother once a month.”

“Anything you’d like me to pass back?”

“Just that I’m doing well, and I hope he is too.”

“He’s made a fine addition to my joint staff. The man is a logistical wizard.”

David laughed. “What’s that old saw… professionals deal with logistics?”

“And amateurs debate tactics,” MacIntosh finished. “Good luck out there, David. I wish I were going out with you, but I’m stuck in the rear.”

“Without the work you’re doing, sir, we wouldn’t be where we are. The new technology your team turns out will eventually win the war.”

MacIntosh smiled and stuck out his hand. David took it and shook it firmly. “Godspeed, General.”

“Godspeed, son.”

5

Three days later, after all of the ships in the massive Coalition Defense Force and Royal Saurian Navy task force had been provisioned, completed final engineering checks, and taken on all replacement crewmembers, David found himself standing the first watch on the bridge of the Lion of Judah. The cavernous CIC and bridge area was full of even more crewmembers than usual. There was a pulse of excitement and an edge to everyone’s demeanor. Today, they were going to begin to put an exclamation point on the campaign of the last three months. God willing, from here on out, the League’s grip on power will start to falter and fade. The cover he was wearing, a ballcap with the logo of the Lion of Judah on it, felt scratchy. He preferred the standard duty cover, but the crew had fallen in love with the ballcaps. They were the number-one selling CDF memorabilia item, and those who’d earned the right to wear them on duty took immense pride in the simple hats. Perhaps it’s because of what they symbolize to billions of citizens throughout the Terran Coalition: Hope.

“Conn, Communications,” Taylor’s voice carried across the ship. “Receiving final instructions for departure. We’re cleared to undock, sir.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant. Navigation, clear all moorings, disengage our umbilicals and switch to internal oxygen reserves.”

“All moorings and umbilicals disengaged, sir,” Hammond promptly responded.

“Navigation, all ahead, dead slow,” David commanded, following the rote procedure to launch the ship that he had now executed many times.

“All ahead, dead slow, aye, sir.”

David watched the forward view as the ship slowly began to move, the shipyard pylons starting to move out of the frame of the transparent alloy “windows” on the bridge. Accelerating, the Lion exited the shipyard entirely and began to make the turn toward its parking orbit.

“Communications, engage the tactical network protocol with the RSN Elcin.”

“Aye, sir, tactical network engaged,” Taylor replied crisply.

“TAO, link all Sierra contacts from the tactical network into our CIC viewer.”

“Aye aye, sir, Sierra contacts imputed,” Ruth chimed in.

David stood from the CO’s chair and glanced back to the massive holoprojector that showed local contacts around the Lion. There were now hundreds of contacts displayed around his ship, so many that he couldn’t tell them apart, or see the supplemental information as to what the ships were.

“That’s the most ships with friendly IFFs I’ve ever seen in my life, in one place,” David commented to the room at large. Turning around, he saw Aibek standing and staring at the holoprojector in awe as well.

“An inspiring sight, sir,” Aibek replied.

Looking around the room, David observed most of the bridge crew staring at the holoprojector as well, wearing smiles and whispering to those next to them at their stations. He broke into a grin. “This is the largest fleet ever assembled by the Coalition Defense Force and any of its allies. Take a good look, people. This is the fleet that’s going to kick the League out of our arm of the galaxy.”

Ruth turned around from her station, a departure from the CDF’s standard bridge protocol, but then again, David wasn’t precisely following it at the moment himself. “I wish I could see Admiral Seville pee his pants when we drop out of Lawrence drive right on his front door.”

Waves of laughter swept through the bridge as enlisted crewmembers and officers alike played the mental image Ruth had created through their minds. David laughed out loud. “Maybe we can get Colonel Sinclair and his boys to get us a drone into his quarters.”

“I like that idea. Maybe we could make a propaganda video out of it,” Taylor interjected.

“I am not sure who wants to see Admiral Seville suffer a small indignity like you describe. I would rather we make a video of him seeing the error of his ways before his death sentence is carried out,” Aibek said as he tried to copy a human eye roll but not entirely being able to due to how the Saurians’ eye sockets worked.

“You know, XO, I’m delighted you’re on our side sometimes.”

Before Aibek could respond, Taylor interrupted with actual business. “Conn, Communications. I’ve got a priority order from Admiral Kartal’s flag staff. We’ve been instructed to proceed to rally point bravo.”

David immediately cut off the horseplay and started walking back toward the CO’s chair. “You heard the man. Everyone, take your stations. Navigation, plot a course to rally point bravo and charge the Lawrence drive.”

“Aye aye, sir, course laid in,” Hammond immediately responded.

David took his seat, as did Aibek. Glancing around the bridge once more, David took satisfaction at seeing the entire bridge crew strapped in and ready to go. “Navigation, engage the Lawrence drive.”

“Aye, sir, engaging Lawrence drive.”

There was a noticeable dimming of the bridge’s running lights as the Lawrence drive generator spun up, which was due to the extreme range being inputted into the navigation computer. Suddenly, a multicolored wormhole sprang into existence directly in front of the Lion of Judah. The mighty starship engaged its sub-light engines and charged into the maw of bright colors, followed by several dozen smaller ships that were piggy-backing on the extended range of the Lion’s Lawrence drive.

A few moments later, the artificial wormhole collapsed, leaving little trace it ever existed, except now there were dozens of ships fewer in orbit above Canaan.

* * *

Standing in the shooting range onboard the Lion, Taylor pressed his thumb up against the biometric lock on the small arms locker. It made a beeping noise then flashed green with the words “Access Granted” flashing on the screen. Taylor selected a standard issue projectile sidearm, the MS-18. Optimized for conflict onboard a space ship, the rounds it fired were explicitly designed to destroy soft tissue but not punch through the hull. Given the many layers of armor on the ship, it would be unlikely that one could breach the outer hull, but weapons designers hadn’t left it to chance.

Alone aside from one other soldier in the range, Taylor put on protective gear that included goggles and ear covers. He then made his way to an open lane and pulled up a computer-generated target of a bullseye. Practicing the safe handling instructions that were drilled into him since boot camp, he loaded the weapon, turned off the safety, took aim, and squeezed the trigger until the magazine was empty.

Staring down the lane with satisfaction, Taylor saw that he’d hit the inner rings of the bullseye in all fifteen shots he took. A voice shouting behind him caused him to whirl around, startled.

“It’s harder when the targets are shooting back at you, Lieutenant.” The voice belonged to Calvin.

Looking around the range and confirming no one else was in the room, Taylor removed his ear cover. “I gather that, Colonel. But I’m a comms geek, as you like to point out. Computer algorithms rarely shoot at me.”

Calvin chuckled. “No, they don’t. Have you tried one of the more realistic simulators?”

“I have. I tend to freeze up in those. The life-like realism of shooting people is disturbing.”

“You just haven’t done it enough. Once you kill enough Leaguers… it just doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Colonel, may I ask you a personal question?”

“Stow that ‘Colonel’ crap, Robert. We’re just two friends hanging out, chucking some rounds down range.” Calvin paused for a moment. “What’s your question?”

“Why do you hate them so much?”

“What do you mean?”

Taylor gestured to the lane Calvin had occupied, which displayed a target of a League soldier with nice tidy holes in its head and chest. “Every time I see you down here, you’re shooting pictures of League soldiers. You never miss the target. Whenever I hear you talk about the League, you say something like ‘the only good Leaguer is a dead Leaguer.’ I remember you telling Colonel Cohen we should blast surrendered League ships rather than waste time boarding them and taking prisoners.”

Calvin pursed his lips together and a hard look washed over his face. “I’ve been fighting the League since I was eighteen years old, Robert. You’re damn right I hate them. I hate every last one of them. I’d kill them all if I had half the chance. I don’t feel bad about killing them, and I don’t feel bad about not feeling bad about killing them.”

“They’re not all bad.”

“Really? You ever gone toe to toe with League ground pounders?”

“Well, no—”

Calvin cut in before he could continue. “I have, God knows how many times that I’ve lost count. One of my first deployments, we were staging an invasion of a border planet that had exchanged hands several times but was first settled by the Terran Coalition. Good, hardy people that just wanted a place to call their own. The League took it over, killed thousands in purges, and tried to force their way of life on those folks. But we don’t leave our own behind, so the fleet took the skies, and the Marines landed. I’ll never forget what I saw at the age of nineteen.”

As Calvin spoke, his mind flashed back to that day, so many years ago but so fresh, it was like it was yesterday. His second combat insertion, he’d been a wet-behind-the-ears private, the words of his drill instructors still ringing in his ears. He and his squad were hunkered down in a drop pod, hurtling through the atmosphere.

* * *

“Hoooooorah! Semper Fi, do or die!” the staff sergeant in charge of the squad shouted.

“Hoooooorah!” Calvin shouted back, along with the rest of the Marines.

“Now here’s the plan, Marines,” the staff sergeant continued. “We’re dropping into the capital of this fine planet; it’s a place called Brunswick. Our objective is to capture the center of the city and take out the League’s headquarters. Our secondary objective is to kill every Leaguer asshole we see. You get me, Marines?”

“Yes, Staff Sergeant!” Calvin again screamed at the top of his lungs, along with the rest of the men, their roar filling the drop pod.

The next few moments were a blur as the drop pod streaked through the atmosphere before firing retro rockets to land in a manner that was not exactly graceful, but slow enough that the Marines inside weren’t harmed. As soon as the pod touched down, the doors flung open, and the harnesses that held the men in automatically released.

Calvin immediately took in his surroundings through the lens of the heads-up display, or HUD, in his helmet. There were numerous League security troops holding positions around a large building that he assumed had been the headquarters of the Terran Coalition’s government outpost on the planet. Now festooned with the flag of the League of Sol, he felt bile rise in his throat. The shout of his staff sergeant interrupted his thoughts. “Move out! Get out there! Squad A, I want fire on those Leaguer bastards right now!”

As Calvin charged out of the drop pod with his Marine brothers, he felt the staff sergeant’s armored suit hand slap his shoulder. “Do not freeze up, Private! Remember your training! Get out there!”

Incoming rounds slapped the ground around Calvin, sending him scurrying for cover behind a low wall where a couple of other Marines had taken refuge. It took him a few seconds to realize there had been a pitched battle occurring before the CDF Marines had arrived. People in civilian clothes were perched around the square, firing on the League forces. He supposed they were resistance fighters, but regardless of who they were, more friendly troops were always a welcome sight.

Steadying himself, Calvin used his HUD to mark several Leaguers before popping up from cover with the other two Marines beside him and firing short bursts from his battle rifle. The reward for his efforts was three hits on League troopers, which momentarily caused the fire pouring in on their location to slacken.

“Grenades! Up and over, Marines! Drive them back!” the voice of his staff sergeant thundered through the headset he wore under his helmet.

Moving as one, Calvin and the rest of his squad mates pulled fragmentation grenades from their belts, removed the pins, and tossed them toward the closest enemy. Three seconds later, a dozen explosions went off. There was an immediate cessation to the incoming fire from the Leaguers.

The rest of the squad, Calvin at their heels, jumped up and charged the League positions around the square. In a matter of seconds, the stunned Leaguers had been cut down, with only a couple managing to retreat into the building without being shot.

A wild cheer went up from the civilians at the sight of the running enemy. One of them climbed down from a balcony, into the square, and made his way to the Marines.

“Thank God you made it!” the man said with a worn and weary smile on his lips, cradling a civilian hunting rifle in his hands.

Calvin saw his staff sergeant step forward and remove his helmet. “Staff Sergeant Morris Harrison, 52nd CDF Marine Division, 1st Battalion, 2nd Regiment at your service.”

“Henry Lee…shop keeper and leader of our cell. Some spook from CDF Intel alerted the resistance network that the invasion was to happen today. We answered the call.”

“My orders are to storm this building and capture it. That’s what my squad and I are going to do. Would you be willing to guard our rear?”

Lee nodded. “Gladly. Are you sure you don’t need us to assist in taking the building? We’re all willing to put our lives on the line for freedom from the League. Don’t worry about us.”

Harrison shook his head. “While I thank you for the offer, Mr. Lee, I need to be able to storm that building without worrying about my six. So you make sure the Leaguers don’t catch my boys and me with our pants down, and we’ll raise the Terran Coalition flag. Clear?”

“Yes, sir. We’ll watch your backs.”

Harrison laughed. “Don’t call me ‘sir.’ I work for a living.”

Henry laughed as well, in spite of the terror around him. “I’ll try to remember that.” He turned and ran back toward the rest of his fighters, while Harrison put his helmet back on.

“Got more guts than brains, these civilians. We’ll keep them out of harm's way as much as we can. On me, squad!” Calvin heard Harrison say through his headset.

The squad of Marines rushed toward Harrison, who approached the door to the government building they were to capture. “Blow the door!” he ordered.

One of the Marines trotted over with a door breach kit. He pulled it out of the tube it came in, and then rolled the material out over the door. One side was sticky, and it easily adhered to the door. This Marine had done this particular task enough times to be quite proficient at it. Inside of fifteen seconds, the charge was ready. At a nod from Harrison, the door blew backward, creating a tidy entry point for the squad.

Another Marine tossed in a flashbang—a type of grenade that stunned those in the room with light and a concussive wave—and a split second after it exploded, they charged in. Calvin was one of the last to step through the now empty doorway, into the maelstrom of weapons fire. His battle rifle was up and at the ready as he charged in. Seeing a Leaguer spring up from cover, his training took over and he fired a tight three-round burst, causing the unlucky League soldier to fall backward, mortally wounded.

It was all over in less than sixty seconds. I almost feel bad for these guys, trying to fight power-armored Marines with submachine guns. Once the din of combat had died down, there was an eerie quiet that swept through the room. Harrison’s voice once again snapped Calvin out of his thoughts. “Lance Corporal Karimi, take Private Demood and search the lower rooms on this level. The rest of us will continue to clear this building of Leaguers.”

“Yes, Staff Sergeant!” Calvin heard Karimi’s voice through his headset. “Demood, with me.”

Calvin took position behind Karimi, covering him as he poked his head into the hallway in front of them. “Looks clear. Stay frosty,” Karimi commented, no-nonsense. The walls had various League of Sol propaganda posters plastered to them, showing smiling League soldiers handing out food and encouraging citizens of the Terran Coalition to “See the light and reject superstition.” The only thing these guys are handing out is misery. Why can’t they leave us alone?

After trying a door handle and finding it locked, Karimi pointed at the door. “Care to kick this down, Demood?”

Calvin nodded his agreement, reared up, and kicked the door near its handle with the entire weight of his power-armored suit. The door crumpled in like a flimsy piece of paper, shattering on impact. He charged into the room and was entirely unprepared for the sight that met him.

A young girl of no more than sixteen years of age was handcuffed to an interrogation table. Her hair was matted, face streaked with blood, and she had the thousand-yard stare of a ten-year combat veteran. Calvin guessed she’d been tortured, or worse. So intent on her injuries, he almost missed the other occupant of the room, a man who wore the black uniform of the League of Sol. He appeared to be in his thirties, with a thin face and a complexion that reminded Calvin of the propaganda posters he’d just seen..

“Don’t shoot! I surrender!” the man shouted in accented English, raising his hands with the palms out, clearly showing he wasn’t holding a weapon.

Karimi covered the Leaguer with his battle rifle, while Calvin removed his helmet and knelt next to the girl. “Hey, it's okay. We’ve got you now.”

She immediately shrank back from him, whimpering.

Calvin’s face became a mask of fury. He turned to the Leaguer. “What the hell were you torturing a teenage girl for?”

“She was a member of the resistance. We needed information from her,” the man stated, his tone matter-of-fact.

Calvin turned back to the girl. “I’m a Marine… TCMC.. We’re here to get rid of the League and free your planet.” Feels good to be the guy in the red cape.

She raised her head to him, her lip quivered, and her eyes screamed her fear wordlessly. “He hurt me.”

Calvin sprang up, rage rising from every part of his being. He turned to face the Leaguer. “What did you do to this woman? You sick bastard. What the hell is wrong with you people!”

The Leaguer stood there for a moment, and then to Calvin’s amazement, he smiled. “I do whatever is needed to obtain the information required. This one has strong religious beliefs. I used them to extract the information we needed. It's quite simple, we do whatever is required, without the silly rules you Terrans impose on yourselves from some fairy in the sky that doesn’t exist.”

Karimi was still covering the Leaguer with his battle rifle, taking in the events. “Demood, zip-tie his hands together. We’ll ship him out to the POW camp, and make sure the JAGs know about his crimes. Hopefully, they can make war crime charges stick.”

Mentally, Calvin stewed. POWs can’t be charged with most crimes committed while under arms. It’d take a miracle for this piece of human trash to get any punishment or for this girl to get justice.

The Leaguer laughed. “Wonderful. I get three meals a day while you keep fighting my countrymen… until we win anyway. I love how the Terran Coalition works.”

Something snapped inside of Calvin. Years later, he still remembered the moment as it occurred in almost slow motion. He drew his sidearm, chambered a round as he raised it, and aimed at the man’s head. “Tell you what, Leaguer. You say there’s no God? How about you find out.”

As soon as those words had left Calvin’s lips, he squeezed the trigger, sending a single round directly between the man’s eyes. His lifeless body crumpled over, and he fell backward. The girl had been watching it all; she didn’t scream, she didn’t flinch. She merely stared, then looked back down at the table.

“Shit! Shit! Shit!” Karimi screamed at the top of his lungs, taking a step forward and staring at Calvin with a wild look. “What the hell did you do that for, Private?”

Calvin slowly lowered his sidearm and returned it to the holster. “I took out the trash, Corporal.”

There was a pregnant pause as Karimi looked between Calvin and the dead Leaguer. “Okay, Demood. He drew a hidden weapon, you shot him. End of story. We clear on that?”

“Yes, Corporal.”

* * *

Taylor stared at Calvin with his jaw open. “You shot an unarmed POW?”

“Yes, I did. At times I’ve regretted it, at times I’ve wished I could’ve killed him five times over. You fleet guys… you don’t see what they do on the ground. It's different. So yes, I hate the League. I hate what they stand for.”

“Cal… we’re not supposed to be judge, jury, and executioner. The rules exist for a reason.”

“Maybe when this war is over, I can get myself straightened out. I’m sure I’ve got something wrong with my head. The worst thing is, I don’t feel anything. I don’t have remorse. I don’t feel bad for them. When I’ve killed fifty Leaguers in a day, I sleep like a baby.”

Taylor stared at Calvin as he spoke, his eyes opened wide. “Have you talked to a counselor?”

“Yeah. One told me once I have a personality disorder caused by trauma. Whatever that means. I’ve gotten good enough at faking it to pass my evaluations without raising too many questions.”

“That’s a little bit scary…”

“Don’t worry. I’m only interested in killing Leaguers,” Calvin replied with a smirk on his face.

Taylor turned back toward the weapon locker. “I guess I’d better get cleaned up and ready for dinner.”

“Sure thing. See you later in the wardroom.” Calvin said, wondering if he’d shared too much. Non-marines were hard to relate to at times.

Watching Taylor secure his sidearm back in the weapons locker and leave, Calvin reflected on how much he hated the League of Sol. But the truth is, I don’t hate them for what they do, I hate them for what they made me become.

6

Admiral Pierre Seville gazed out over the joint operations command floor on the League’s forward operating base in the Sagittarian arm. Its official name was the League Logistical Space Depot Unity, named for the League’s desire to reunite humanity, or so the Ministry of Information said. The installation was known to its crew, though, as Unity Station, which was far less cumbersome in Seville’s opinion. Dozens of officers and enlisted personnel manned the communications and intelligence installations around the room, updating sensor readouts and plugging in the latest estimations of CDF and RSN forces. What was clear to him was the infernal Terrans were about to launch a significant attack. Strappi strode up behind Seville, interrupting him. “Admiral, I have a report you may wish to see.”

Seville whirled around, startled by the morale officer’s stealthy approach. “Colonel Strappi… just the man I was looking for.”

Strappi looked back at Seville with a look of puzzlement on his face. “Sir?”

“It looks like our morale is falling again.”

“It’s hard to be in good spirits when we’ve lost most major engagements we’ve had over the last three months, Admiral.”

“What have I told you about needing a better outlook yourself, Colonel?”

Strappi looked appropriately chastened after that barb hit home. “I apologize, Admiral. I’m just apprehensive.”

“Now what’s this report you mentioned?”

“We’ve received a communique from a friendly freighter captain who observed a massive Coalition Defense Force and Royal Saurian Navy fleet departing Canaan. While there was a wide exclusion zone, this freighter happens to have some… upgrades to its sensor suite.” Strappi smiled thinly. “It would appear that they’re making a major move.”

“They've found us, at long last.”

“That was my thought, as well as the intelligence analysts’, sir.”

“What’s the status of our next set of reinforcements?” Seville asked.

“We should have another two space action groups, each consisting of a one Alexander class battleship, four Rand class heavy cruisers, and an assortment of escorts on station within the next week.”

“Good. That will bring us up to around six hundred capital ships. Coupled with the defenses of this station, I feel confident we can break the enemy’s advance and then start pushing back.”

Strappi nodded his agreement. “Of course, Admiral. You also have a request from the Social and Public Safety Committee to deliver your monthly report via hyper-com video link next week.”

Seville’s eyebrows shot up before he could fully control them. That’s a high enough bandwidth cost for it to cause disruptions to our network back to Earth. What could be so important? “Are you quite certain of the request?”

“Yes. A note was included that specifically addressed the cost. There has been some turmoil on the committee, and they’d like to speak with you in real time.”

“The last thing we need out here, my dear Colonel, is for the League to attempt to run this war by a committee from twenty thousand light-years away.”

“I’m sure they’ll not try to do so, Admiral. After all, they must have continued confidence in your leadership, judging by the number of ships sent as reinforcements.”

Seville cracked a smile looking at Strappi. The man is so transparent, at licking my boots. “A true observation. Make sure that our crews are ready to meet the imminent threat. I want all fleet captains to order random drills and instruct the senior officers to review our battle plans.”

“Yes, sir!” Strappi replied, bringing his fist to his chest in the salute of the League. “Any further orders, sir?”

“No. That will be all, Colonel. Dismissed.”

Strappi stalked out of the observation area, leaving Seville alone with his thoughts. So the Terrans have finally gotten brave enough to come for our most robust military installation aside from Earth itself. At least I’ll get another shot at Colonel Cohen and the Lion of Judah. We almost had her a few times… this time, she doesn’t escape. I’m tired of chasing that man across the galaxy. This ends with the Terran Coalition being ground into dust. When they get a taste of our latest advancement, they’ll find that their so-called God has abandoned them.

7

After arriving at rally point bravo, David had received an eyes-only message from Admiral Kartal requesting his presence, along with his executive officer for dinner onboard the flagship of the fleet, RNV Elcin. Dutifully complying, he donned his black service dress uniform and instructed Aibek to join him. Stepping off of the shuttle from the Lion of Judah onto the hangar deck of the Elcin, he was surprised to find an honor guard.

“Commander, CSV Lion of Judah arriving,” a Saurian crewman intoned in perfect English.

“Thank you,” David said, standing at the base of the shuttle ramp, along with Aibek, who had walked down behind him.

“Please follow me to the reception, Colonel,” the crewman said, gesturing toward the exit from the hangar, some ways off in the distance.

“Of course,” David replied and fell in behind the young Saurian.

As they wound through the twisting passageways of the mammoth battleship, David engaged in some small talk with Aibek. “Remind you of home much, XO?”

“Yes, it does,” Aibek replied. “The smell, specifically.”

“I don’t smell anything different.”

“You wouldn’t… Saurians have a highly tuned sense of smell compared to humans. Our ships are more pleasant than yours. Some of us have to take medication to be able to avoid vomiting on your vessels.”

“Seriously?” David asked. That’s crazy… I can’t smell anything different about the two ships.

“Yes. I have a strong stomach, though. Not to worry.”

“Are you pulling my leg?”

“Never, Colonel,” Aibek said with a toothy grin.

The crewman that was leading them stopped, then turned to his right and opened a hatch. “The wardroom is here, sirs.”

“Thank you again,” David replied, offering a smile as he stepped through the hatch and into the Saurian version of a wardroom. Surprised somewhat that it looked suspiciously similar to a similar space on the CDF ships, he took in the various displays. Just like the Lion of Judah, and other vessels he had served on previously, there was a large plaque for the ship adorned with the awards it had won over its time in the Saurian fleet.

“Come in, come in, gentlemen,” Kartal roared, a glass of some kind of drink in his hand.

Upon seeing Kartal, David immediately brought himself to attention, as did Aibek. “Colonel David Cohen, reporting as ordered, sir!”

“As you were, Colonel. Tonight, we are simply gathering as brothers and sisters united by war. Please, get a drink and sit. My stewards will begin to serve our dinner shortly.”

“Thank you, Admiral,” David replied, relaxing his stance and posture. I don’t care what the admiral says, it's hard to be relaxed in an environment like this where I feel like he’s watching every interaction we have. He walked over to the bar and flashed a smile to the steward behind it. “What’s being served this evening?”

“Red and white wine, sir, along with a premium Saurian ale, straight from our home planet,” the Saurian standing behind the bar replied.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had Saurian ale before. I don’t suppose it’s kosher?”

The Saurian laughed. “We do have a bottle labeled kosher, sir. Would you like a glass?”

“Why not…” David replied. I wonder if this stuff is really kosher or if they’re just saying it is?

“Make that two,” Aibek interjected.

“I didn’t realize you drank, XO,” David said in surprise.

“I don’t really like human alcohol. Especially that stuff the CDF serves. You’ll see,” Aibek replied with a broad, toothy smile.

The steward passed over two large mugs of frothy Saurian ale, which David and Aibek gripped carefully. David nodded his thanks and took a sip; the harsh flavor of the drink burned his tongue immediately. He made a face involuntarily as he swallowed the ale, avoiding the near disaster of spewing out of his mouth due to the sour taste.

“Not your cup of tea, Colonel?” Aibek said.

David managed a weak smile. “It's, uh, different.”

Aibek laughed uproariously and gestured to David, speaking to the nearby Saurian officers. “A true warrior this one! He managed to swallow some ale!”

The rest of the Saurians, including Kartal, laughed and a few even applauded. “I see our allies have pranked you,” another CDF officer wearing a full bird insignia said to David. “Colonel Jorge Vela,” he continued in English with a slight Spanish accent.

“It would appear so,” David remarked while extending his hand. “Colonel David Cohen.”

“The illustrious commander of the Lion of Judah, in the flesh.”

“I wouldn’t know about all that, Colonel. Just another ship driver. What about you?”

“Staff officer to Admiral Kartal. I push extraordinary amounts of paperwork.”

“Never ends, does it?” David replied. “I can never get ahead of my administrivia. If I get close, more shows up from a pocket universe dedicated to generating more forms.”

Jorge snickered and took a sip of his mug of ale, which he swallowed with ease. “Such a true statement.”

“I take it you’ve got some experience with this stuff?”

“It’s an acquired taste, not unlike exceptionally high proof human alcohol.”

“Fellow warriors,” Kartal said, his voice carrying above the rest and demanding attention. “Please, join me at my table to give thanks and enjoy the night together before we join the battle tomorrow morning.”

Small talk melted away as those in the room heeded the admiral’s request. David realized that each place setting had a little paper card with the name of an officer on it; he touched Aibek’s arm and pointed without being too obvious.

Nodding his understanding, Aibek followed David around the table to find their seats.

To David’s surprise, they were put right next to Admiral Kartal near the head of the table. Waiting politely and observing that no Saurians spoke, David too was silent as everyone found their seat. Once that was done, Kartal clapped his hands together, and the stewards began to bring out a first course: salad for the humans and a hash with what looked like raw meat for the Saurians.

“Please join me in blessing our food,” Kartal said before leaning his head back and closing the scales over his eyes. The Saurians followed, while David bent his head forward and closed his eyes. “Prophet, protector, keeper of all life and creator of the universe, hear our prayers. We ask You to bless this, the food we have gathered and hunted in Your name, through the abilities You bestowed upon us. Bless the warriors that join with me tonight, bless the just cause for which we fight, and grant us victory against evil on the battlefield tomorrow. In Your name, we pray, amen.”

“Amen,” David said, as did many others.

“Now eat!” Kartal said, a broad smile on his face and his voice happy and full of life, before taking a large bite of the meat hash. “Colonel Cohen, thank you for coming this evening. I had hoped to meet you sooner, but there’s never been any time.”

“No, Admiral. Time is something we seem to have precious little of these days,” David replied between mouthfuls of salad.

“Tell me, seeing this fleet… what emotions does it evoke in you, the son of the man who once saved the Terran Coalition?”

“Pride. Immense pride in the ability of our soldiers and allies, coupled with dedication to our cause. Also, humility at the price paid to enable us to field this fleet.”

“Some Saurians question the wisdom of allying with a race who, a short time ago, was our sworn enemy.”

Is he testing me? “I suppose some humans might as well, Admiral. As a student of history, I’d tell you that humanity is replete with examples of prior enemies becoming the best of friends. In fact, there’s a rather famous Indian expression I’m fond of… the enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

“Do you view us simply as the enemy of your enemy, Colonel?” Kartal asked, one scale raised over his right eye.

Oh good grief, now I’ve stepped in it. “Not at all. The few Saurians I’ve had the honor to serve with are friends in every aspect of the word,” David replied.

“Good recovery, Colonel,” Jorge said from across the table.

David felt his face warm.

“I see that General MacIntosh has been working on your diplomacy, Colonel,” Kartal said while smiling in the toothy Saurian way.

“He tries, sir. So do I,” David said, grinning himself. “I’m still quite direct.”

“So am I. I rather enjoy it.”

“Colonel Cohen, do you believe our two races can be long-term allies?” one of the Saurian flag officers asked.

“We’ve been allies for some time now. I believe we will continue to be allies and eventually usher in a new era of peace and prosperity.”

“Having served among the Terrans before and now, I believe they are every bit as honorable as we are,” Aibek interjected. “At times, more so. I have seen incredible displays of courage, sacrifice, and dedication to duty. Humans as well as Saurians seem to have been made by the Creator.”

“Careful where you say that, warrior. The wrong priest might challenge you to blood combat,” the flag officer replied.

“Not on this ship,” Kartal said. “Here, that is the prevailing belief. Still, I find the way humans do things to be so… different. You all seem to have different beliefs.”

“Don’t Saurians?” David asked.

Aibek shook his head. “No, almost all of us share the same religion. Some do not believe in anything, but our primary belief system has been the same for several thousand years after our great Prophet visited Sauria and corrected us.”

“Humans come in all shapes, sizes, colors, creeds, and beliefs, Admiral. It’s part of our strength.”

“I’ve come to see that in the last few months. Diversity of thought through different experiences. It can be a formidable tool in battle.”

As they finished up the salads and meat hash, the stewards came back out and quickly removed the used plates. Much like a CDF ship, everything was done with clockwork precision. David mused inwardly that the Saurians had to want to show off that they were just as good at pomp and circumstance as their human allies. As the main course was set down, a similar meal for both species, though David’s piece of what he assumed was red meat was far more well done than the Saurians; Kartal’s looked like it had been seared on a grill and served.

“This is a delicacy from our world. A species that we’ve enjoyed for millennia as a delicious meal,” Kartal explained.

David cut off a small bite-size piece and began to chew; surprisingly tasteful, it reminded him of lamb. “Tastes like chicken.”

“Chicken?” Kartal asked.

“A human source of protein, from their bird family of animals,” Aibek interjected. “This meat tastes nothing like chicken, sir,” he said with mock reproach.

David grinned. “It's just what you say when you eat something new.”

“I would like to return to our previous conversation,” Kartal said. “As I said, I continue to be fascinated by all the different religions and philosophies that exist in human culture.”

David fought down a grimace; the last thing he wanted to do the night before a battle was discuss politics and religion with the fleet commander. There are some topics one doesn’t touch. “Well, there are few things two humans agree on fully, Admiral.”

“You are Jewish, yes?”

“Yes, Admiral. Orthodox, at that.”

“Doesn’t the word Cohen trace back to the priests of Israel?”

He’s done his homework. “Yes, sir, it does. Confirmed via DNA sequencing too. Though unfortunately, our tribes’ genealogies are so muddled, no one knows which tribe they belong to anymore.”

“You don’t believe the Messiah, what we would call the Prophet, has come to you?”

David shook his head. “No, sir. Jews believe that we await the coming of the Messiah.”

“But Christians believe that Jesus was the Messiah.”

“Yes, sir,” David replied.

“Aren’t those two in direct contradiction?”

“Well, yes.”

“I am failing to understand how you can fundamentally disagree so much yet still be so intermeshed with one another,” Kartal commented.

“Admiral, in the past, different religious organizations on Earth fought with each other. Muslims and Jews fought for thousands of years. Christians at one point fought with Muslims through great crusades. Muslims fought with Hindus for thousands of years. Radicals from every sect caused pain and death.”

Kartal stared in rapt attention. “But not anymore?”

“No. I’m not aware of any religious violence occurring in the last two hundred years within the Terran Coalition, or even any credible reports of religious bigotry. I’m sure that somewhere in our borders, someone exists that doesn’t like someone else’s beliefs, but if they shared that thought process, no one would give them the time of day.”

“What happened?”

“Back on Earth, we were all forced to band together when the World Society—the precursor to the League of Sol—began to economically, and later militarily, take over the world. Jew fought side by side with Muslim, Muslim fought side by side with Christian. In short order, we were forced to confront the truth about each other, that we weren’t that different. What were at first allies of necessity turned into friends, then eventually brothers and sisters with an unbreakable bond.”

“In a way, then, this League of Sol caused something positive to happen,” Kartal observed.

“I’d never thought of it like that, but I suppose you’re right.”

“And now there is room for any belief in the Terran Coalition?”

“Including none at all.”

“Those must be a minority…”

“A tiny minority. Three percent of the population in the last polling I saw on the subject. That’s something else humans love to do… conduct polls and collect statistics.”

Kartal snorted. “I have noticed.”

David realized as he took another bite that no one else was speaking; the entire table was watching the conversation between him and the admiral. “I suppose it's one of our failings. That and endless amounts of paperwork.”

“Humans have no monopoly on paperwork, Colonel. The Royal Navy has plenty. Always some… what do you call them, bean counters, yes? An entire army of those exist back on Sauria wanting more forms.”

David chuckled politely, as did the other officers at the table.

“I have enjoyed this discussion, Colonel. I feel as if I know you better now. Tomorrow will be a great day.”

“Any defeat of the League is a great day,” David said, fire shining in his eyes. “I long for the day when we defeat them for good.”

“That, I can drink to. Ladies and gentlemen, charge your glasses!” Kartal said, picking up his ale glass and taking a swig. Everyone else, including David, did as well. The rest of the dinner focused on more banal discussions, but the interaction with Kartal stayed at the forefront of David’s mind, even after he was back in his bunk and done for the evening.

* * *

So many ships out there. It’s honestly a majestic sight. I pray they’re still here after we finish the battle tomorrow. Standing at the “window,” which was a highly dense transparent alloy, David’s eyes raked across the scene of dozens of starships as far as the eye could see. Carriers, battleships, heavy cruisers, light cruisers, missile cruisers, destroyers, frigates from both the CDF and the RSN. All ready to fight in the most significant spaceborne engagement since the battle of Canaan, which took place nearly twenty-eight years ago. The officers’ mess he was in was open all day and night, and there were more than a few fellow servicemembers who couldn’t sleep, also taking in the sight. Failing to relax after dinner with the admiral, David had gone to the shul first and spent an hour praying. His soul still troubled, he’d ended up in the mess.

“I guess you couldn’t sleep either.”

David looked back to see the smiling face of Angie Dinman, the embedded reporter for GNN, holding a mug. He shook his head. “No, I couldn’t. I decided to come down and have a look one more time at the fleet.”

“Mind if join you?”

“On the record, or off?” David asked.

Angie rolled her eyes at him. “Aren’t we past that?”

David laughed. “Who knows with you reporters? The master chief swears the entire lot of you can’t be trusted.” He gestured to the chair next to the one he was sitting in.

Angie smirked. “The master chief will never be satisfied with any reporter.” She took the seat indicated by David and glanced out the window. “Well, if nothing else, we’ve got a lot of firepower for tomorrow.”

David took his chair back. “Firepower is only half the battle. Being in the right place, the right time, with the right firepower… now that’s the name of the game.”

“Do you think we’re going to win?” Angie said, looking over at David and trying to make eye contact with him.

“I think we’ve taken every possible precaution, have a great plan, and enough ships to execute the plan. The rest is in the hands of God.”

“Right, so are we going to win or not?”

David offered her a small smile. “I don’t know. But I’ll give everything I have, as will the rest of the people on this ship to assure we do. Can we talk about something besides the battle? I’m trying to get that out of my mind.”

“How come?”

“So I can sleep and be in a rested state of mind for tomorrow.”

Angie grinned. “I should’ve realized that.”

“It’s okay,” David replied before continuing with a different thought. “I hear that you’ve been going to both the shul and Christian services with Lieutenant Goldberg.”

It was Angie’s turn to be surprised. “Do you have a security detail on me or something?”

David shook his head. “Despite the Lion’s seemingly massive size, it’s a tiny ship. Scuttlebutt gets around.”

“I see that. Well, yes. I have been going with her,” Angie said, taking in David’s quizzical look. “I wasn’t able to set aside what you said to me a few months ago.”

I had that much of an impact with one comment about Pascal’s Wager? “I see. We haven’t discussed it since...”

“I’ve been able to ignore every other argument I’ve heard about God. I’m not entirely sure why, but that one got my attention. I decided to explore different avenues of faith. I’ve been to several Christian services, Jewish services with Ruth, and a couple of Islamic services with Colonel Amir.”

“Well, you’re hitting all the major Terran Coalition religions. Might want to toss in a visit to a Buddhist temple while you’re at it.”

“Are you insulting me, Colonel?”

David blinked. “I didn’t intend to… though being exposed to Colonel Aibek’s humor, I suppose it’s possible I’m a bit more sarcastic than I used to be.”

“Oh,” Angie said as her shoulders sagged and she wore a frown. “It’s just really personal to me. I don’t know what I believe… if I believe in anything. I don’t want to be made fun of.”

Crap. I didn’t mean to insult her. That’s the last thing she needs. “I apologize, Angie. It wasn’t my intent.”

“I forgive you,” she replied with a smile.

“How Christian of you.”

Angie rolled her eyes. “Seriously?”

David laughed. “Couldn’t resist.”

“I guess I’d better try to go get some sleep. It’s only three hours to five AM CMT. There’s a broadcast embargo, but I’m recording reports constantly that can be edited into a cohesive story once it’s over.”

David nodded his understanding. “Sleep well. I trust that tomorrow God will go with us, and I know the crew will be at its absolute A-game.”

“God helps those who help themselves?”

“Or as the Arabs say, trust in God, but tie your camel to a tree,” David replied with a smile.

“Take care, David. I’ll see you at some point in the next few days.”

Watching Angie go, David realized with a start that he had some level of attraction to her. Great, David. First, you’re in love with your XO, now you’re interested in an agnostic reporter. Get it together, man. Focus. Shaking his head, he took his water glass back to the collection area for used dishes and headed back to his cabin to hopefully get some sleep.

8

The following morning, David rolled out of his bunk at 0430 CMT when his alarm went off. He’d finally fallen asleep around 0300 CMT, and all told got about three hours of sleep during the night. It’ll have to be enough to keep me going today. Forcing himself through his morning ritual, he exercised for half an hour, then showered, shaved, and put on the uniform of the day. By 0700 CMT, he was on the bridge, sipping a cup of coffee and looking over the ship’s readiness report.

0800 was the designated H-Hour, when the combined assault would begin. Between 0700 and 730, the entire first shift bridge crew rotated in, relieving the third shift. Admiral Kartal had planned the operation at the start of the first shift to ensure the best personnel, and more importantly, make sure they were rested and ready for a sustained engagement. David continued to be impressed by the Saurian admiral; he had proven over and over to be a wily commander, with out-of-the-box tactics and unorthodox strategies. Today, though, they were flying into the teeth of the best the League had to offer. David hoped that the admiral was up to the task, for everyone’s sake.

When Aibek walked onto the bridge, he was the last one of the first shift crew to arrive, at precisely seven thirty-two AM. As he took his seat in the XO’s chair, David glanced at him.

“You’re going to be late to your own funeral, aren’t you, XO?”

Aibek laughed. “I certainly hope so. Dying isn’t high on my bucket list, as you humans say.”

David snickered in spite of himself. “In twenty-eight minutes, we do this.”

“It is difficult to believe that the last five cycles have gone by so quickly, leading us to this battle.”

“Well, we’ve drilled it, we’re ready. All that’s left now is the waiting,” David commented. “That’s the part I hate.”

Aibek didn’t respond, and the rest of the crew was busy checking, rechecking, triple-checking their consoles and the ship’s function.

“I think it’s time to go to condition one,” David said as the clock ticked to seven thirty-five AM.

“Agreed, sir.”

David punched the button for 1MC on his chair. “General Quarters! General Quarters! This is the commanding officer. Man your battle stations! I say again, man your battle stations! Set material condition one throughout the ship! This is not a drill! I say again, this is not a drill!”

The lights on the bridge automated faded to a dark blue hue, bathing the bridge and CIC in a soft glow. “Conn, TAO! Material condition one is set throughout the ship,” Ruth announced.

“Acknowledged, TAO.”

After going to condition one, the minutes crept by for David, and he found himself silently praying in Hebrew. Lord, protector of us all, please spare my crew if it is Your will and allow them to return home to their loved ones.

At 0750 CMT, Taylor’s voice invaded David’s mental reverie. “Conn, communications. Incoming fleet-wide transmission from Admiral Kartal.”

“Link it into 1MC, Lieutenant.”

There were a couple of seconds of scratchy static, and then the admiral’s voice came through loud and clear. “Officers, enlisted soldiers of the Royal Saurian Navy and Coalition Defense Force, this is Admiral Kartal. Over the last five Saurian cycles, which humans would refer to as eighteen months, we have fought together against the League of Sol. It has been a time of sacrifice, a time of courage, and a time of triumph. Our forces have defeated in detail all League combat units active in our arm of the galaxy. Human and Saurian working together, we have accomplished much. Today, we will storm the League’s defenses. We will wreck its fleet, and we will seize the launching point for our eventual invasion of the League’s core worlds. With God and the great Prophet at our side, we will not fail. See yourself to your duties. Give all that you have with honor. Today, the League will try to slither away, but our heel will stomp its head. The assault begins in five minutes. Admiral Kartal out.”

David nodded his approval, looking at Aibek. “I find the admiral’s speeches to be as effective as his tactics.”

Aibek laughed in return. “As long as you mean that positively, I will not have to challenge you to blood combat, Colonel.”

David rolled his eyes in return, ignoring Aibek’s comment. “Navigation, please confirm one more time that the proper coordinates are programmed into our Lawrence drive.”

“Conn, Navigation, coordinates rechecked, sir. We’re ready on your command,” Hammond replied.

“TAO, status of magnetic cannons and shield systems?”

“Shields energized sir, magnetic cannons loaded with high explosive rounds per your orders,” Ruth responded.

“Very well,” David said, eyeing the clock as the seconds ticked down.

Considering what they were about to go into, David decided that his crew needed to hear from him one more time before the battle commenced. He hit the button for 1MC once more and spoke into the mic. “Attention, all hands, this is the commanding officer. We all know what’s at stake. We all know our duty. I expect you all to carry it out today. If you’re anything like me, there wasn’t much sleep last night. There were a lot of prayers. There was a letter home to our families, just in case. Now is the time for action. Godspeed to you all.”

After David cut off the mic, Aibek commented in a quiet voice, “Thank you, sir. I think we all needed to hear from you. I would be lying if I said I was not apprehensive. This is, how do humans say it? For the marbles?”

David smiled. “For all the marbles.”

Aibek smiled, saying nothing and staring straight ahead.

“Navigation, stand by to activate the Lawrence drive on my mark.”

“Acknowledged, sir.” Hammond immediately responded.

Watching the clock tick forward the final ten seconds, David felt the knots in his stomach contort out of control. It’s always like this before the battle, but in a few seconds, I’ll be back in the thick of it and in the zone. The moment the clock struck 0800 CMT, David spoke. “Navigation, activate the Lawrence drive.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

Hammond tapped the control to execute the Lawrence drive activation, and the massive artificial wormhole generators in the bowels of the ship sprang to life.

From the CO’s chair, David could see dozens of wormholes forming and the rest of the vessels in the fleet lining up to fly through them. Then the sub-light engines of the Lion kicked in, and he felt the G forces pressing him back into his chair, attenuated as they were by the ship’s inertial dampener fields. The mouth of the wormhole rushed up toward the exterior view, as the Lion breached the event horizon, while behind it, the wormhole collapsed in an array of different colors that spanned the range of the rainbow.

A few seconds later, they emerged in normal space, eight hundred lightyears from their starting point. There was a four-second delay as the sensors recalibrated and snapped back on. This was the most critical part of any combat deployment sequence, and it always inspired a few seconds of held breath on the bridge. As those seconds elapsed, David whispered a prayer in Hebrew for his crew, asking God to spare their lives in the coming battle.

“Conn, TAO. Sensors online... numerous contacts, sir. No hostiles within one thousand kilometers! Feeding contacts into the allied tactical network!”

“TAO, raise shields, arm point defense in automatic mode and charge the weapons capacitor.”

“Aye aye, sir, shields up, point defense armed and ready, weapons capacitor charging,” Ruth replied. “Conn, TAO. We’ve got a hostile battlegroup of eighteen ships closing with us.”

“TAO, put the battle space view up on the holoprojector,” David ordered before standing from his chair and glancing back toward the holotank. Aibek stood with him and raked his eyes over the sensor readings.

“It would appear that they have picket forces around the perimeter of the station’s defense grid, sir,” Aibek commented after studying the plot.

“I concur, but I’m a bit surprised at the balls of eighteen ships going up against us.”

“Conn, Communications. Flash traffic and targeting package from the Elcin,” Taylor interjected.

“Acknowledged, Lieutenant,” David turned back toward Ruth. “TAO, input the targeting package.”

“Aye aye, sir. The first target is Master Seventy-Eight, Rand class cruiser,” Ruth quickly replied.

“TAO, firing point procedures, magnetic cannons, and neutron beams, Master Seventy-Eight!”

“Firing solutions set, sir.”

“TAO, match bearings, shoot, all weapons!” David commanded.

David felt the magnetic cannon rounds explode from their turrets as the Lion shuddered just a hair when firing its primary weapons. Racing toward their target at five percent of light speed, the massive projectiles crossed the distance between the two ships in a couple of seconds, impacting against the League ship’s shields. Coupled with fire from the Lion’s neutron beam emplacements, the League cruiser’s shields quickly failed, and multiple beams speared the vessel from bow to stern. A moment later, it exploded into a cloud of debris.

“Conn, TAO. Master Seventy-Eight destroyed,” Ruth reported. “Sixteen out of eighteen ships engaged have been destroyed, sir.”

David nodded without speaking. Not bad shooting for sixty seconds out of wormhole drive.

“Conn, TAO. Aspect change, Master Ninety, Master Ninety-seven, they’re moving away from us at maximum sub-light speed, sir.”

“I think I would run too, after seeing my friends get smashed like that,” Aibek said dryly.

David couldn’t help but snicker. “Good point, XO.”

* * *

Simultaneously on the bridge of the RSN Elcin, Admiral Kartal paced back and forth, viewing the battle through his CIC’s holoprojector that, much like the Lion’s, showed him an overall picture of the battlespace. The voice of his fleet captain cut through his thoughts. “Admiral, the two remaining League ships are falling back at maximum speed.”

“Is the fleet in position for the assault?” Kartal asked.

“Yes, sir. All ships successfully transited and are in position.”

“Order the fleet to move forward to the launching point for our fighters and Marine assault shuttles.”

“Aye aye, sir!”

Most of the crew on the Elcin was Saurian, with a few human officers that were part of the joint exchange program run between the two allies. Kartal had found the humans to be capable combatants. He admired their tenacity and drive. After five cycles, they’d truly integrated themselves into his crew.

“Sir, tactical is showing numerous League fighters launching from the hangars of the space installation.”

“How many fighters?” Kartal asked.

“At least five hundred, sir.”

“That’s roughly a quarter of their strength,” Kartal mused out loud.

“Based on our intelligence estimates, that is correct, sir,” the flag captain replied.

“ETA to our forward launching point, Captain?”

“Eight minutes at present speed, sir.”

“Signal the fleet to stand ready to deploy fighters and assault craft,” Kartal commanded.

“Aye aye, sir!”

“There’s only one good kind of Leaguer, Captain.”

“Sir?”

“The one’s that’ve been dead for six cycles.”

Saurians across the bridge snickered in reply.

* * *

In the cockpit of his SF-106 Phantom space superiority fighter, Amir worked through his final pre-flight checks; his entire wing was on ready five status, standing by to launch into space as soon as the word was given. Amir was watching the battle play out on his HUD, noting with satisfaction that the initial portion of the engagement had been a resounding allied success. But that was only a small part of the League’s fleet. He could make out nearly four hundred other League capital ships waiting for them around the massive logistical station they intended to seize.

“All ready over there, Colonel?” Major Rebecca Tulleny, his executive officer, asked on their private commlink channel.

“Ready to turn and burn,” Amir replied.

“Same here. I’ve got butterflies in my stomach.”

Amir laughed. “Winning today will be a result worthy of great praise to Allah.”

“Don’t count our chickens before they hatch, sir.”

“Of course not. We must still win.”

David’s voice invaded the command channel, cutting off further discussion. “Colonel Amir. Launch all fighters. I say again, launch all fighters!”

“I think that’s our cue, Amir,” Tulleny said archly in her posh British accent.

Amir thumbed his communication channel over to flight ops. “Air boss, this is Colonel Amir. Request permission to launch my wing!”

“You are cleared to launch, Colonel. Good luck, good hunting, and Godspeed!” was the immediate reply from the “air boss,” the officer in charge of the flight deck at all times.

Amir switched back to the squadron commander’s frequency. “This is CAG Amir, all squadrons, launch in order, Reapers will launch first! Inshallah!” He invoked an Arab phrase that meant “If God wills it.”

A moment later, Amir’s fighter was the very first craft out of the launching tubes, quickly followed by the rest of his squadron. Over the next few minutes, the entire sixteen-squadron wing of the Lion of Judah launched into space. As the icons for his friendly units began to populate his HUD, Amir found himself impressed by the professionalism of his pilots as they quickly worked themselves into formation. The last eighteen months of constant drills, simulator practice, and sustained combat had left him with an ironclad group of veterans who knew their business.

Tulleny’s voice again came out of the commlink channel. “Colonel, you see that mass of bogies? Looks like five hundred or so fighters.”

Amir used the mental uplink to zoom up the HUD. “Those aren’t bogies, Major. That’s a lot of bandits heading straight for us.”

“Acknowledged, sir.”

Amir cued his communication system for the fighter command channel, where all the CAGs would receive instructions from Admiral Kartal’s flag staff. “This is CAG Amir, Lion of Judah. Requesting permission to engage inbound bandits and requesting weapons-free status.”

“Attention fighter wings from the Lion of Judah, Saratoga, and Ark Royal, you are cleared to engage hostile inbound craft. Weapons-free status is authorized,” said a voice that Amir immediately recognized as Colonel Coskun Terzi, the overall small craft commander for Admiral Kartal’s staff.

“Acknowledged, Colonel Terzi,” Amir replied before switching his communications channel back to his wing. “Here’s our orders, ladies and gentlemen. Bomber squadrons will hang back until called upon, while two squadrons of fighters, the Black Lions and the Fighting Scimitars will stay with the bombers and provide cover should any enemy interceptors or fighters break through. All other fighter squadrons, on me.”

There was a smattering of responses that included “Yes, sir!” and “Aye aye, sir!” from his squadron commanders. Amir pointed his fighter toward the enemy flight that was heading toward them and noted that another five hundred interceptors had launched from the League’s space installation. This is going to get hairy. The rest of his squadron seamlessly formed up around him, while the rest of his fighter force, sans the craft detailed to close support, fell into formation. All told, he had ten squadrons of Phantoms hurtling toward the League formation. Coupled with the reinforcements from the two other carriers, they would have superior numbers when they engaged the League flight. Given the better technology of the CDF, they’d have a significant advantage.

After a couple more minutes of closing at maximum thrust, Amir’s flight was about to engagement range. “All squadrons, stand by for maximum range,” he said into his mic, channel set for the squadron commanders’ commlink. Watching the rapidly approaching and tightly clustered group of League fighters, he waited until the LIDAR target acquisition unit began to pick up the nearest target. In an engagement this large, the CDF’s tactical network would automatically pick out targets and ensure that friendly combatants weren’t wasting dozens of missiles on the same target. The moment his missile lock tone sounded, he pressed the missile launch trigger built into the top of his flight stick. “Reaper One, Fox Three!” he shouted into the communications system.

Hundreds of missiles volleyed out from the CDF formation, hurtling across the deep blackness of space toward their foes. The League fighters began to launch their missiles, and suddenly, the battlespace around Amir’s squadrons was filled with hundreds of incoming hostile warheads. “Squadron commanders, break formation, engage maximum ECM and evade!” Amir shouted into his mic. Taking his own advice, he broke hard to the right, pitching his fighter up forty-five degrees. Three missiles had locked on to him, and he tried to time the deployment of super-hot plasma flares correctly.

Two of the missiles took the bait, exploding harmlessly behind Amir’s fighter. The third dogged him, turning through several high-G jinks before losing lock and blowing up when it ran out of fuel. Momentarily distracted from the overall fight, Amir quickly checked over his HUD and saw the battle had disintegrated what fighter pilots referred to as a furball, which was a tight turning tail chase to see who could land the finishing blow.

Amir picked out his next target, a nearby League fighter that was trying to destroy one of his wingmen. It took him a couple of seconds to line up the shot for his miniature neutron cannons, but as soon as he had it lined up, he held down the trigger on his flight stick, sending beams of energy stabbing out at the League craft. “Reaper One, guns guns guns!” Amir called into the mic.

The League fighter attempted to evade but was too sluggish, blowing apart after several repeated hits. Amir quickly lined up his next target, electing to use a heat-seeking missile as his prey was too far away for neutron cannon fire.

“Reaper One, Fox Three!”

A few seconds later, yet another League fighter exploded, marking Amir’s third kill of the engagement. He noticed that his squadron mates, and the entire wing, were all having extradentary success.

“League fighters still blow up real good,” a voice he didn’t recognize said over the comm channel.

They’d only lost five fighters so far from the Lion. The League picked the right day to run out of qualified pilots.

* * *

While Amir and the Canaan Alliance’s best fighter pilots were mixing it up with the League, Calvin was sitting the back of his assault shuttle with his headquarters squad of Marines. One of the slogans of the TCMC was “every Marine a rifleman.” It was one of the first truisms he learned about the Marines. Everyone fought, and this battle was no different. He was in the first wave of assault shuttles, which would conduct an explosive breach of the League space station and secure a beachhead. Then they’d capture main areas, including what was believed to be the primary engineering spaces, weapons control, and the station’s CIC.

Calvin’s executive officer, Major Raul Cabello, was on a different shuttle as a safety precaution, just in case one of them was lost to enemy fire. Looking to his left, he spoke to his senior enlisted Marine, Master Gunnery Sergeant Reuben Menahem, who hailed from New Israel. A conservative Jew, Menahem didn’t follow all of the instructions of Jewish practice like Colonel Cohen did, but Calvin knew he was devout. Well, at least I’ve never seen him eat bacon. “How you doing over there, master guns?” Calvin said, invoking the Marine corps nickname for the rank of master gunnery sergeant.

“Just fine, Colonel. I’ve got six hundred rounds of 7mm caseless ammunition positively ready to cause a bad day for any Leaguers we encounter. And a Terran Coalition flag to plant on the command deck of this piece of shit League space base,” Menahem said as he grinned.

Calvin laughed out loud. Menahem was a tough, older Marine with nearly thirty years in the TCMC. He felt the man was cut from the same cloth as he was, just like many older Marines he counted as friends. Fighting the League was all they’d known, and they knew it well. “I’ve got the beer once that flag goes up, master guns.”

“How’s our ferry service doing?” Menahem asked.

“Pretty good. The flyboys are blowing League fighters out of the sky left and right. We’re right on schedule. Got to say, I’m impressed with this Saurian admiral.”

“I wasn’t sold on a Saurian leading us. My grandfather fought the Saurians in that war we had with them seventy-five years ago. He told me stories about how hard they fought, and how mercilessly they treated prisoners. They felt you had no honor if you surrendered, so they treated captured Marines like dirt.”

“I think once we beat them, they changed their ways,” Calvin responded. “At least, that’s what the books I read in school said.”

Menahem laughed. “Yeah, and how much money did we pay out to rebuild Sauria? That place is an industrial wasteland from hundreds of years at a war footing. I guess the best thing that can happen to you in this galaxy is for the CDF to kick your butt and occupy your planet. We’ll rebuild it better than new and give you tons of cash to boot.”

“We won the peace, though. They never again challenged us, and now they’re our allies. To hear their leader talk, they’re on a divine mission from God to help us.”

“There is that,” Menahem agreed. “I won’t lie to you, Colonel, I get a little apprehensive when people start talking about fighting wars in the name of God. I’m not sure about you, but I think the God I worship doesn’t particularly want us to go around killing other humans, or aliens, for that matter.”

“I wouldn’t know. God doesn’t seem to talk to me,” Calvin said with a bit of an edge.

“I thought you were a Christian. Don’t you believe you have a two-way dialogue with God?”

“I don’t know what I am, master guns. I believe, sure. Hell, I go to church once a month. But my job is to go out into this universe God created and kill as many of one specific type of his creations as I can. I guess you could say I’m lapsed.”

“At least you get to eat pork.”

Calvin laughed again. “The other white meat.” Turning serious once more as his HUD received an alert, he spoke louder so that the entire shuttle’s cargo hold could hear him. “Look alive, ladies! We hit the deck in fifteen minutes!”

9

As the CDF and RSN forces closed in, Admiral Seville’s stare was glued to the tactical sensor projection in the command-in-control center of Unity Station. The actual commanding officer of the station was sitting at the XO’s chair, while Colonel Strappi hovered nearby, trying to make himself appear useful.

“Tactical, please highlight the location of the enemy carriers.”

“Aye aye, sir,” the tactical officer quickly replied.

The eight CDF heavy carriers and two fleet carriers in the enemy fleet began to blink. “A shame. They’ve stopped moving forward.”

“The Lion of Judah continues to move in toward us, sir,” Strappi added in his nasal voice.

“Yes, I see that, Colonel,” Seville responded curtly.

“Everything in its place.”

Seville turned and glared at Strappi. “Colonel, our best-laid plan is in place. A grands maux, grands remedes.”

“I don’t follow, sir.”

The station commander, Fleet Captain Astrid Monet, laughed. “Desperate times call for desperate measures, Colonel Strappi.”

Only in my fleet is the overarching political commissar mocked to his face. That would get most executed. Seville smiled darkly at his thoughts as his eyes returned to the tactical display. “I believe it is time. Do you concur, Captain Monet?”

“Yes, Admiral. They’re in the kill zone.”

Seville leaned forward, anticipation building. Months of planning, sacrifice, and loss finally pay off. I almost pity these fools. They think they can defeat the League of Sol. Glancing toward the tactical officer with a sinister smile, he spoke again. “Tactical, activate the minefield.”

* * *

Concurrently, on the Lion of Judah’s bridge, David was mentally processing the battle so far. They’d performed far better to date than his best projections, and the CDF fighter squadrons were making short work of their League counterparts. Perhaps God is really with us today. He was waiting for the next set of instructions to come from Admiral Kartal, who, according to the plan, would order the heaviest capital ships forward, while formations of Ajax class destroyers provided overlapping standoff missile capabilities, along with the formidable missile cruisers the CDF possessed. The entire fleet would be further enhanced by the point defense capabilities of the Meade class frigates. The admiral planned to practice network-centric warfare, meaning his command ship would take over the guidance of missiles and other integrated weapons, controlling them remotely and ensuring they hit weak spots of the League defenses.

“Conn, TAO! I’m reading numerous EM signatures, sir. They just appeared out of nowhere!”

David looked up from his console in alarm. “Explain that, TAO. Any idea what they are?”

“I’m running an active—” Ruth never finished her sentence.

Suddenly and without warning, there was a series of massive thermonuclear explosions that seemed to go off everywhere around the ship. The Lion bucked so hard that David was thrown out of his chair and found himself face down on the deck plating. Most of the bridge crew were strapped into their consoles, but the unlucky few who weren’t were tossed around like rag dolls—including Aibek, who slammed headfirst into the overhead.

Ruth struggled to hang on to her console, bouncing wildly in her seat. “Conn, TAO! Numerous detonations sir! I think they’re mines! Shields on the verge of collapse!”

David struggled to pull himself up and found that blood was gushing out of his nose. Ignoring it, he reached for the intercom built into his command chair, punching the code for engineering. “Major Hansen, divert everything we’ve got to shields! Our lives depend on it!”

Ruth cranked her head around. “Too late, sir. Shields have collapsed!”

David’s observe, orient, decide, and act, or OODA loop, was entirely compromised. Struggling with what to do next, he realized that they were still moving forward; if this was some new mine, there would likely be more mines around them.

“Navigation, all stop! Maximum reverse thrust!” David shouted over the din of alarms and screams.

Another mine exploded, knocking David away from the CO’s chair and slamming him into a console. He looked up to see the overhead of the bridge collapsing on top of several petty officers that operated auxiliary fire control consoles. As he struggled to get to his feet, another blast wave hit the Lion, again rocking the mighty ship. A pipe ruptured and fell on top of the navigation station with live steam shooting out of the end. Hammond screamed at the top of her lungs as the steam burned her side.

“Help me!” Hammond cried as Ruth struggled out of her harness and to assist her.

David rushed over, blood still pouring out of his nose, and tried to release the harness she was trapped in, but involuntarily yanked his hand back, as it was too hot to grab. Quickly ripping off his uniform sweater, he wrapped it around the release and pulled. Hammond fell onto the deck, whimpering and writhing in pain.

Breathing heavily, David looked up at Ruth. “TAO, retake your station! I want to know why point defense isn’t targeting those damn mines. Now!”

“Aye aye, sir!” Ruth answered, pulling herself back into the chair and frantically trying to review sensor scans of the area.

Smoke had begun to fill the bridge as a small fire broke out where the decking had collapsed. “Master Chief!” David shouted. “Master Chief, are you okay?”

Rebecca Tinetariro staggered to her feet. “Still here, sir,” she said shakily.

“Get me damage control parties and corpsmen up here on the double,” David ordered, beginning to reassert control of the situation. “And somebody turn off that damn alarm!”

David looked around for Aibek and saw him collapsed near the holoprojector. Closing the distance quickly, he knelt next to his XO and felt for a pulse. While it was steady, the big Saurian was clearly out cold. There was a bleeding knot on his head, and David assumed he had hit his head. Turning back to his station, he sat down and quickly reconfigured his display for navigation. In a pinch, he could control any system on the ship from his screen, but in practice rarely had a reason to do so. As he thanked God for good old-fashioned CDF redundancy, the navigation display popped up and confirmed that the ship was able to maneuver, but was stopped as his last order had directed.

“TAO, give me some good news,” David said toward Ruth.

“I’m sorry, sir, these mines have some sort of stealth coating on them. I’ve never seen anything like it. Automated point defense can’t track them, at least not without recalibration. The fleet has stopped moving, sir.”

“What about our fast movers?”

A look of terror washed over Ruth’s face as she realized the implication of that question. The mines would be deadly to small craft. She checked over her sensor display and turned back to David, her face ashen. “Sir, we’ve taken fifty percent losses among our fighters and bombers.”

“Focus, Lieutenant. One problem at a time. The mines,” David said in as gentle a voice as he could muster.

“Yes, sir.”

David heard a commotion behind him and turned to look. Damage control crewmembers in full firefighting gear rushed into the bridge, followed by a large medical team.

“We’ve got wounded up here. The XO is unconscious, and the navigator has steam burns on her side,” Tinetariro said to the first corpsmen in the hatch.

Trying to block out the flurry of activity, David focused on the displays on his console. “Communications, any word from the Elcin or Admiral Kartal?”

“No, sir. I’m not getting much of anything, there’s so much residual radiation from those explosions. It’s going to take a few more minutes before we get comms back,” Taylor answered.

“Understood. Keep working on it, Lieutenant.”

“Conn, TAO! Aspect change! League fleet is moving sir. Engine light-off across all of their ships.”

David stared straight ahead. “TAO, ETA to weapons range of those ships?”

“Fifteen minutes, sir, give or take.”

The medical team strapped Hammond into a portable stretcher; all the while, she continued to moan in pain. As they began to carry her off the bridge, David sprang up and walked over to grab her hand, motioning for the corpsmen to hold up. Looking down at her, he forced a smile. “Lieutenant, you go get patched up, and I’ll see you back up here soon, okay?”

“Yes, sir. I won’t be out of action long,” Hammond replied, grimacing from the pain.

“See that she’s taken good care of,” David said, addressing the team leader.

“Aye aye, sir!” the lead corpsman replied as they carried her off the bridge.

David sat back down as the damage control team put out the fire in the back rack of consoles, and medical personnel began to assess the injured. Forcing his mind back onto the battle, he reexamined the tactical data and realized that several capital ships had been destroyed. It appeared the carriers were outside of the range of the mines, but the heavy cruisers and their escorts weren’t so lucky. The fleet was battered and beaten. He prayed that Hanson and the engineers were successful getting the shields back online, because without them, the Lion wasn’t going anywhere.

* * *

While David and the bridge crew were trying to keep the ship in one piece, Hanson and his engineering team were trying to get the primary systems of the Lion, specifically its shields, back online and functional. Doctor Hayworth and Major Merriweather were also in the engine room, assisting with repairs, as were a number of the defense contractors. All in all, it made for a very hectic work environment.

“Doc, I’m showing a buildup of pressure in our main coolant tubes for the anti-matter reactor. Can you take a look?” Hanson shouted above the din of conversation and machinery.

“Don’t call me doc!” Hayworth replied, ever the curmudgeon. Shuffling over and adjusting his glasses to better look at the readout Hanson was observing, he paused for a moment before speaking. “I think the problem is in the primary magnetic stabilization chamber. Let me try to realign the system. It sure would be nice if you military types stopped getting this thing shot to hell and back every other week.”

Hanson smirked. He’d come to enjoy the banter with Doctor Hayworth, and he’d learned much from the man about the anti-matter reactor technology. “Sure, doc, we’ll get right on that.”

Hayworth turned and affixed a glowering look. “It’ll hold for now… but a more permanent fix is required. We need to shut down the reactor and fully repair the damage.”

“That’ll have to come after this battle, Doctor.” Hanson looked up to the main control console, where a group of engineers was camped out. “Samuels!” he shouted, speaking to a senior shield control technician. “You’ve got power now, crank up the shield generators. The colonel needs those back online ASAP.”

Samuels gave him the thumbs-up signal a few seconds later. “Recharging, sir!”

Hanson cracked a smile and brought up his comm, punching in the bridge channel number. “Hansen to bridge.”

A moment later, the comm crackled, and David’s voice issued out of it. “Please tell me you’ve got some good news, Major.”

“That I do, sir. Shields are recharging now. We can’t take too much of a beating down here… Doc tells me that the reactor is jury-rigged six ways from Sunday.”

There was a pregnant pause on the line. “Understood, Major. Good work. Cohen out.”

* * *

Amir blinked repeatedly. He was still alive, but he couldn’t remember what had happened after the initial blasts. Maybe I blacked out. That consideration was something of a surprise. Feeling his way around the cockpit, he realized that he was having trouble seeing. Everything around him was dark. It took him a moment to realize it was his fighter and not his eyes that had the problem. The flight helmet had worked as designed, filtering out the nuclear pulses and preserving his eyesight.

Fumbling around in the dark, Amir triggered the backup lights and tried to ascertain his position, but his cockpit was spinning, leaving him with no situational awareness. Going through the emergency restart checklist, he triggered each step as they were ingrained into muscle memory from years of practice. His reward was the primary subsystems snapping back on.

“Thank Allah,” he said out loud. First bringing the thrusters back online, he was able to stop the spinning and stabilize his craft.

His second task was to reestablish communications. Toggling the communications channel selector, he tuned it to the squadron commanders channel. “This is CAG Amir. Can anyone hear me?” he said into his mic. There was no response. Not quite on the verge of panic, but very concerned, Amir switched the selector to the CDF guard frequency, which would theoretically allow him to communicate with any friendly craft in range. “This is Colonel Hassan Amir. Can anyone hear me?”

“Colonel, this is Major Foster of the CSV Saratoga. How copy, over?”

“Solid copy, Major. What’s the status of your flight?” Amir replied. Thank Allah I’m not alone.

“We’re looking at twenty percent combat losses. Most voice comms are out thanks to all the residual radiation. Damn Leaguers have a stealthy minefield up. We walked right into it.”

Another voice cut into the conversation. “This is Reaper six. Colonel Amir, is that you?”

“Thank Allah you are alive… Yes, this is Colonel Amir,” Amir replied.

“There are a few other Reapers out here on my wing, sir. Comms units are fried, but they’re following me in close formation. We’re crisscrossing space where the mines already detonated. I’m not sure how we can get back to the Lion. I also show numerous inbound League ships and fighters on short-range scanners.”

“Keep the faith. Anyone who can hear this, stay in a constant loop. We must wait for our capital ships to figure out how to deal with this new threat. Trying to fly out of our current locations will be suicide,” Amir said, his tone forceful.

“Uh, sir, you’re not wrong…but we’re going to be just as dead when the Leaguers show up in ten minutes,” a voice Amir didn’t recognize replied.

He’s right… Allah help us. I pray Colonel Cohen has another trick up his sleeve, or we’ll all perish. Amir looped his fighter around and absent-mindedly fiddled with his sensors to try in vain to pick up the mines.

* * *

Back on the Lion’s bridge, Ruth announced a report from her console. “Conn, TAO. Shields fully charged. All generators report nominal.”

David breathed a sigh of relief. “TAO, raise the shields.”

“Aye aye, sir, shields raised.”

The medical team had removed Aibek and the rest of the wounded from the bridge. Damage control teams shut off the live steam, secured the pipe, and restored power to the navigation console. All they were waiting for now was the backup navigator to get to the bridge. David found himself worrying about the condition of the wounded and had to push it out of his mind. The only thing that mattered now was how to solve the next problem.

“Conn, Communications. We’ve got flash traffic from Admiral Kartal’s flagship. It's intact, and the admiral is alive. They want to know if anyone has figured out how to track the mines.”

Thank God he survived. Maybe there’s hope for us yet. “TAO?” David asked.

Ruth turned around in her chair. “No joy on tracking them, sir. I think there’s a way to, but we don’t have enough time now to recalibrate our entire sensor array. I’ve got an idea, though… it’s a bit nutty.”

David grinned. “Nuts is my middle name. What’cha got?”

“Well, these mines are small; we’re sure of it because they’re barely registering on the EM scanners, and we can’t see them on LIDAR. Even with stealth coatings, they’ve got to be small. That means they logically lack heavy armor. We could use our Starbolt missiles as mine-clearing devices.”

“You want to use five hundred megaton fusion warheads as minesweepers? How?” David asked her incredulously.

“Yes, sir. We can send them to specific XYZ coordinates in manual mode and detonate remotely when they reach them. The blast wave ought to be enough to trigger the mines in range to explode. We can effectively carve a path out of the field.”

“Lieutenant, that’s just crazy enough to work.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Start programming the warheads. Communications, get a message to the admiral’s flagship with our plan of action.”

“Aye aye, sir!” Taylor responded crisply.

While he waited for a return message to come in from the admiral’s flagship, David studied the tactical plot. As interference from the blasts faded, IFFs came back on. He was relieved to see Amir’s IFF snap back on, along with many of the Lion’s fighters. The losses they’d suffered were horrific, however. We’ve lost at least half of our small craft and fifteen percent of our capital ships. This is an absolute blood bath.

A voice to David’s right side jolted him out of his thoughts. “Sir, Lieutenant Marks, backup navigator reporting for duty, sir.”

David’s gaze shifted over to the young woman, Second Lieutenant Rachel Marks. She was the third shift navigator and had been on the Lion for only a month. He sorely wished Hammond was flying the ship, but Marks would have to be up to the challenge.

“Thank you, Lieutenant. Take your station, please.”

“Aye aye, sir,” Rachel replied before sitting down at the navigation station and strapping herself in.

God, please help us. Give Admiral Kartal wisdom to make the right calls before all is lost.

10

On the bridge of the RSN Elcin, Admiral Resit Kartal sat in the chair usually occupied by his flag captain. He was one of the first causalities of the mines, which wrecked the Elcin’s bridge and heavily damaged her wormhole drive. The Lion’s crew had given them what seemed like a decent chance at getting out of the trap with the majority of the force intact.

A text message appeared on Kartal’s viewer. “Two hours to restore FTL, Admiral. All possibilities exhausted.” It was from the Elcin’s chief engineer.

We will not be joining in the retreat after all. Today, I will die with honor before God and the Prophet. Kartal steeled himself and glanced at his communications officer. “Get me fleet-wide transmission.”

The Saurian communications officer cleared his throat. “You are live, Admiral.”

“Captains of the fleet…we have little time. The Lion of Judah has discovered what appears to be a counter to the League’s new weapon. I’ve vectored our missile cruisers into position to begin blasting a path out of the minefield. Our only choice is to withdraw. This battle is lost, but the war is not. The Elcin will remain behind and buy the rest of the fleet time to get away. I am placing Colonel David Cohen in overall command of the fleet. Follow his words as if they were my own. In the coming days, ensure that the galaxy never forgets the brave souls who perished here, and let them never forget that we did not die in vain. Godspeed, and good luck. Admiral Kartal out.”

“The feed is cut, sir,” the communications officer reported.

Kartal pressed a button on the CO’s chair, patching himself into the entire ship. “This is Admiral Kartal. All warriors, abandon ship. There is no reason to sacrifice yourselves today. Serve the Empire and the Alliance well in whatever capacity you can. May the Prophet guide you.”

He ticked off several seconds, but the bridge crew didn’t budge. “That order applies to everyone on this ship. I alone will stay behind to fight the League. Save yourselves.”

There was a pointed silence on the bridge for several seconds before the tactical officer turned around in her chair. “Admiral, we stand with you. Honor demands it. We will not abandon you.”

Kartal fought down the emotions washing over his mind. His duty extended to his crew and to see them return home. There was no honor lost in remaining alive rather than to die in a lost cause. “Very well. Resume your action stations. Let us destroy as many League ships as possible. Turn toward the enemy and use our forward missile launchers to create a travel lane, tactical.”

“Aye aye, sir!” the tactical officer responded, turning back toward her station.

“Communications, get me a private link with Colonel Cohen.”

* * *

David was stunned beyond words at Kartal’s fleet-wide message. To lose the admiral and now have the burden of commanding the most significant offensive fleet ever assembled by the Canaan Alliance fall to him found doubts roaring to the surface of his mind. He closed his eyes for a moment to regain control of his thoughts and focus on the next task: safely retreating with as many ships as possible to fight another day.

“Conn, communications! I have Admiral Kartal on direct vidlink for you, sir.”

David gulped. “Put it to my viewer, Lieutenant.”

A few seconds later, the bulky Saurian admiral appeared above David on his viewer. “Greetings, Colonel. Sorry to spring that on you without warning,” he said as he displayed a toothy grin.

“Admiral… I’m at a loss for words. Please consider moving your flag to another ship. The Lion can send SAR birds at your command.”

“No, Colonel. I am not going to ask another warrior to die in my place. This was my failure. I will take responsibility for it by doing my part to preserve the fleet. It is important you refuse to allow the politicians and the political brass to use this failure to derail our offensive.”

“Sir, I’m not sure what I can do.”

“You’ll know what to do once you analyze what went wrong here. Create a new plan; Seville showed his cards. Take another crack at this station, and you will defeat him. I know you can handle this assignment. Your name was mentioned recently as a candidate for brigadier general. You can salvage this mess. Search within yourself, call upon God. Find your footing and rally the fleet.”

“Yes, sir…I’ll do my best,” David managed to stammer.

“I am sure you will, Colonel. Don’t forget that Seville’s Achilles heel is his overconfidence. There is a weakness in this nasty new weapon of his. Find it. Make the fleet work together, make Saurian and Human work together. It has been an honor and a privilege to serve with you, and this entire fleet. Walk with God, Colonel.”

“Yes, sir,” David replied simply. I’m so sick of our people honorably dying to serve the cause. Before Kartal could say something else, David stood, still in view of the camera that serviced the video link. He brought himself to attention and raised his hand to his brow, smartly saluting the admiral. “Sir, it’s been an honor to serve with you as well. May we meet again someday.”

Through the link, David could see Kartal stand. He brought his substantial Saurian hand up and saluted in the human style; Saurians generally saluted with the palm out, but this was a sign of respect. “Thank you, Colonel. Good luck and Godspeed. Kartal out.”

David sat down as the vidlink blinked off. The bridge was silent, and he could feel the apprehension that swept through the officers and enlisted crewmembers alike. “Navigation, bring the ship about. Plot a course out of here that mirrors the path the fleet is taking through the hole swept by our missile cruisers.”

“Aye aye, sir, plotting course,” Rachel said, her tone unsure.

“TAO, firing point procedures, all Starbolt missiles. Make them ready in all respects, and open outer missile doors. Stand by for XYZ firing coordinates.”

“Aye aye, sir,” Ruth said.

“Communications, get me Colonel Amir.”

“One moment, sir,” Taylor responded. “I’ve got him now, sir, on your personal viewer.”

Amir’s helmeted face popped onto David’s viewer. “Thank Allah, Colonel. It’s good to see you.”

“Same here, Colonel Amir. How bad is it?”

“The Lion’s wing took forty-five percent losses, sir. Bad doesn’t begin to describe it. ‘Devastating’ might be a better word. I can’t find my XO. I think she’s dead.”

David shook his head. “I’m sorry, Amir. I know she’s been with you for years.”

“The League will pay for this!” Amir suddenly snapped, his voice full of anger.

“Yes, they will. But now I need you to put that aside and get everyone back safe. Since you don’t have five hundred megaton proximity fusion warheads, you need to find a different way to get back home safely.”

“I saw the traffic, sir. I’ve got an idea. I’m going to form us up and have everyone that’s left fill space in front of them with sustained neutron beam fire. We’ll, in effect, plow the field.”

David nodded his approval. “I like it, Colonel. Get as many back safely as you can. Don’t mix it up with the incoming League ships. They’re moving through that field like its nothing, so those mines likely have an IFF detector. Engaging the League formations would be suicide.”

“Understood and acknowledged, Colonel Cohen. Amir out.”

Amir’s image blinked out on his monitor, and David returned his gaze to the tactical plot. The allied fleet was making good on forming up behind the missile cruisers, and he saw, much to his relief, that Ruth’s ad hoc mine-sweeping trick was working.

Aibek’s deep voice startled David, as he was intently studying the plot. “Colonel, permission to retake my station?”

David glanced up, a wide grin breaking out on his face as relief washed over him. Seeing the Saurian back on his feet so quickly after being knocked out was a fortuitous turn of events. “Nice timing, XO. Take your seat.”

Aibek nodded and walked over to the XO’s chair, gingerly sitting down. “What’d I miss, sir?”

“The League has an interesting new weapon… Stealth mines. We can’t see them until they activate, and our automated point defense isn’t flagging them as a threat. They knew exactly where and how to hit us. Colonel, did Doctor Tural clear you for duty?” David realized as he was talking that Aibek had a nasty wound on his head, and it was wrapped in a compression dressing. The latest in medical technology, it was infused with healing agents which would significantly speed his recovery, but still, he knew the Saurian had to be in a lot of pain.

Aibek smiled. “I released myself, how did he put it, ah yes, against medical advice.”

David raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure you’re combat ready, XO?”

“My place is by your side, sir.”

“Alright. I need a through damage report. Put all the department's reports together and let’s figure out how badly we’ve been hit while we make good on our escape.”

“Escape?” Aibek said the word as if it disgusted him.

“Yes, escape. We’ll be back—I promise you we’ll be back. Admiral Kartal is going to buy us some time.”

“Before he makes his escape too?” Aibek asked.

“His ship’s Lawrence drive is out. He’s not leaving the battlefield.”

“I see.” Aibek paused and grimaced. “The admiral has much honor.”

David shook his head. “I wish there was another way.”

“Who is in charge of the fleet, then?”

“The admiral asked me to lead the fleet temporarily.”

Aibek’s eyes opened even wider. “Colonel, that is a great honor. To be appointed by the admiral himself. Many a Saurian would fight in blood combat for the opportunity.”

“It’s one I wish I didn’t have,” David said ruefully.

“We all do what we must.”

“Indeed. Damage report, XO. Five minutes ago,” David said as a way to redirect Aibek back to his task; talking about leading the fleet was just not something he was interested in right now.

11

In marked contrast to the chaos, loss, and devastation wrought across the CDF and RSN fleets, the mood within Unity Station’s control room was one of near jubilation. And why shouldn’t it be? These men and women have been at the losing end at most engagements in the last three months, Seville considered as he glanced around the room, seeing the smiles on the faces of his staff.

“A moment of triumph, Admiral,” Strappi announced to the room, causing Seville to roll his eyes. He has boot-licking down to an absolute science.

“The true triumph is when we finish them off for good, Colonel. Don’t allow your eye to waver from the prize. That goes for all of us,” Seville intoned, raising his voice in the last sentence so that all around him could hear.

“Admiral, our analysis confirms the enemy forces are not going to run out of missiles before they escape the minefield,” the tactical officer called out from his station.

Seville stood up from his chair, which overlooked the rest of the stations in the control room, turning his gaze to a massive holoprojector showing the battle in real time. “Zoom the battle space out, Lieutenant.”

Masses of ships displayed as little icons, with the borders of the minefield marked. Seville pointed at the edge of the field. “This is where we need to jump our reinforcements in. I want you to send our three Alexander class battleship groups beyond the field. Order them to cut the CDF and their allies off, then grind them down,” he said with considerable force to his voice.

“Aye aye, sir!” the tactical officer called out.

“Let’s see how Admiral Kartal handles being surrounded,” Seville commented to the room at large; those present were smart enough not to answer him.

* * *

Twenty thousand kilometers away, Kartal paced up and down the bridge of his flagship. Only a small skeleton crew remained with him; he’d made the rest leave, even though they tried to insist on staying. The range between his ship and the oncoming League ships continued to close, but the League was in for a surprise, for the Elcin was the strongest, most heavily armored, and newest battleship in the Saurian fleet. Her sixteen purpose-built magnetic cannon turrets were designed for one thing—and one thing only—complete domination of space around her.

“Enemy contacts entering main armament firing range in thirty seconds, Admiral,” the tactical officer announced.

“Make every salvo count,” Kartal intoned. “Target the largest enemy vessels first.”

“Magnetic-cannons locked on, sir.”

“Kill enemy tracks with guns, tactical!”

“Aye aye, sir!”

The Saurian tactical officer pressed down on the firing button for the salvo of projectiles; all forty-eight of them erupting from the Elcin’s turrets simultaneously and racing toward the League fleet at ten-percent light speed. Striking four Rand class cruisers with twelve rounds each, the dense impactors of the Saurian shells hammered down the shields of the League ships and plunged into the superstructure before exploding. The result was four enemy ships turned into small debris fields.

“Admiral, enemy ships are slowing down and moving to envelop us!”

“Target the inbound escorts, tactical. Stand by neutron beam emitters,” Kartal commanded, looking up at the holoprojected tactical picture in the “tank” of his bridge. “Kill enemy tracks with beams!”

“Aye aye, sir,” the tactical officer responded, lining up repeated strikes with the Elcin’s neutron emitters. Sizzling points of green energy lanced out from the battleship, impacting shields and armor plating on numerous League destroyers and frigates. Many exploded as the poorly designed and built escorts were raked from fore to aft with the hull-piercing beams; lucky hits to missile magazines resulted in hard kills. Others were left as drifting hulks, unable to maneuver or fight. The League vessels weren’t defenseless, however. Their weapons ranged on the Elcin and began to pummel her with concentrated plasma cannon fire. At the same time, hundreds of missiles tracked the massive battleship.

Kartal watched the mass of icons representing the enemy fleet swarm his ship and circle around it while stopping their forward momentum. I only need to buy the fleet another five minutes. That is what they need to get out of this trap. “Tactical, shield status?”

“Receiving impacts across all shield quadrants, Admiral. The enemy presses us sorely.”

“Point defense status?”

“Ninety-two percent effective, sir.”

“Continue to cycle through League targets, take out as many of the escorts as you can. We’ll thin the herd for the rest of the fleet,” Kartal said, his voice full of confidence, while resigned to the fact that he wasn’t getting out of this battle alive.

“Admiral, enemy battleships coming into range. They’re on an intercept course with us,” his tactical officer announced.

“Navigation, evasive maneuvers, line us up for a broadside on the nearest battleship,” Kartal commanded.

“Aye aye, Admiral!”

“Tactical, double load our magnetic cannons, EMP loads followed by armor-piercing deep penetrators.”

The Elcin accelerated and began to turn in space to present the maximum number of magnetic cannon turrets toward the closest League Alexander class battleship. A fifteen-year-old design, the League battlewagons were more akin to a Royal Navy heavy cruiser but were still dangerous combatants.

“Steady on course three-one-five, Admiral. Optimum firing position achieved!” The navigator called out from her station.

“Tactical, status of magnetic cannon reload?”

“All guns report ready to fire, Admiral.”

“Kill enemy battleship track with guns!”

“Aye aye, sir!”

The massive turrets on the Elcin again spoke as one; projectiles the size of a small bus raced away from the battleship, slamming into the shields of the targeted League ship. The EMP rounds did their job, disrupting the inferior League shields and allowing the AP rounds through. They punched through armored plating like it was tissue, burying deep into the innards of the vessel. A moment later, they exploded inside the ship, causing portions of the superstructure to erupt outward, fire blooming out of the vessel before quickly extinguishing due to the vacuum of space and lack of oxygen. One of the shells came to rest near the engineering spaces and fractured the ship’s fusion reactor housing. Once it went critical, the entire ship went up in an explosion that looked like a small star forming.

“Very good, Lieutenant,” Kartal said with pride. We’ll fight to the last breath. A series of explosions within the Elcin took his attention from the League ships to his own. Pulling up a status display, he realized half of the port point defense emplacements had been disabled. The League ships were now volleying missiles into that quadrant. While the shields were soaking up the impacts, their energy levels were dropping at an alarming rate.

“Navigation, hard to port!” Kartal shouted. “Tactical, target our neutron beam emitters on the closest escorts… kill enemy tracks with beams.”

“Aye aye, Admiral.”

Again, the Elcin performed the deadly dance with her League pursuers, shredding the lightly shielded and armored frigates and destroyers, while the League capital ships pelted her with a large volume of plasma cannon fire. More and more League ships entered firing range and turned the space between them and the Elcin into a red-tinted light show of plasma balls and missiles. Kartal knew that their run was almost over. All shield quadrants were under twenty percent total power, and point defense effectiveness continued to fall as the Leaguers got lucky hits on close-in weapon system mounts.

“Admiral, we’re about to have shield failure on the aft and port sides,” the tactical officer said, confirming Kartal’s observation.

“Thank you, Lieutenant. Everyone on the bridge, you may depart.”

“We’re not leaving, Admiral,” the tactical replied, looking back from his station, his scales flashing different colors.

“I plan to ram the nearest League battleship.”

The tactical officer and navigator exchanged looks. “We stand with you, sir,” the female Saurian at navigation announced.

“I am honored.”

“Let us begin. Navigation, intercept course on the nearest League Alexander class battleship. Flank speed, if you please.”

The Elcin’s engines roared to life, burning white hot as plasma ejected from them at ninety-eight percent of the speed of light. Kartal stared at the tactical plot as his ship moved directly toward a battleship a few thousand kilometers away. At some point, the bridge crew of the League ship realized what they were doing and tried to turn aside, but the Elcin had too much speed going for her to succeed.

Kartal glanced around the bridge and decided some final words were in order. “Warriors, thank you for joining me in my final fight. We have discharged our duties with honor. May we all see each other and our families again in the hall of warriors on the other side of the veil.”

“To the honor of the Prophet!” the navigator exclaimed.

“To the honor of the Prophet,” Kartal echoed. He gripped the sides of his chair as they rushed on toward the League battlewagon; he wasn’t afraid to die, but being confronted with imminent death made him consider parts of his life and decisions made. At that moment, he longed for the loving embrace of his mate, the brood mother of his offspring, and to tell them all one last time that he loved them with all his heart.

The crew left on the bridge were suddenly pitched up, several breaking the restraints that held them in place as the bow of the Elcin impacted with the League battleship. The G force was incredible as the two ships collided; the armored prow of the Saurian flagship drove through the Leaguer vessel like a hot knife through butter. Moments later, the stern of the League ship exploded from its reactor going supercritical, engulfing the Elcin in the destruction. Fire raced through the ship, and its fusion reactor housing cracked as it super-heated from plasma release. In the final seconds, Kartal saw the tactical plot blink out, and the bridge vanished into white light. He died knowing the mission had been accomplished; the League fleet was delayed long enough for the Terrans and the rest of his Saurian brothers to escape.

12

A massive thermonuclear explosion to the left of Calvin’s shuttle momentarily blinded him and the pilot until their light filters kicked in a split second later. While the extremely loose formations they were flying in limited losses should one shuttle or fighter set off one of the mines, they also made each craft very much alone, and unable to get help quickly.

“That was close, Colonel,” the warrant officer flying the shuttle said, stress breaking through her mask of professionalism.

“Too damn close,” Calvin muttered back; he was staring at the digital readout, which displayed the status of the various shuttles carrying his Marines. “This is MEU 17 actual, calling Major Cabello, come in, over.”

Nothing but silence replied to Calvin’s plea; the same request he’d made repeatedly for the last fifteen minutes. “Sir, if he’s out there, his comms are down,” the pilot offered.

Calvin glanced up, shaking his head. “You’re right. I’ve, well, we’ve known each other for a long time. Raul’s a good man.”

“Of course, sir,” the younger pilot replied, focused on flying the ship.

“How’re we looking for getting out of this shit-show and back to the Lion?”

“We’re more or less flying down the egress lanes that the fleet’s blown in this minefield with most of its warheads. Most of the fighters have landed, and our shuttles are next.”

Calvin nodded, numb to the goings-on around him. “My readouts show nearly a third of our shuttles destroyed. I’m praying that some of them can’t check in due to damage.” Even as he said it, he knew the thought was unlikely to be a reality; Coalition technology was pretty good at telling you when something was destroyed. That was the entire point of the blue force situational awareness program.

For the rest of the flight, Calvin sat and watched as shuttle after shuttle landed on the Lion; the fact that she was moving at flank speed made it all the harder, but high-risk maneuvers were something they’d trained for repeatedly. I’ve got to make someone pay for this, Calvin reflected. I can’t let my Marines die for nothing. Cohen better have something up his sleeve, because allowing the League to get away with it isn’t going to fly.

* * *

While the bridge of the Lion was still a mass of slightly controlled chaos, David had managed to wrap his head back around the battlespace. The Lion’s fighter squadrons and Marine transports were successfully taken back aboard, while the rest of the carriers had been able to recover their small craft. All in all, the fleet was making good on its escape, but in so doing, they had depleted most of their missiles. The Lion’s forward and aft vertical launch systems were empty and in the process of being reloaded, but they were almost out of the minefield, and, he hoped, home free.

“TAO, ETA to crossing the minefield’s outer boundary?” David asked.

“Less than forty-five seconds, sir.”

David glanced at Aibek. “How are you holding up, XO?”

Aibek winced. His head appeared to still be bothering him, but David was glad he had come back to the bridge. “I’ll be fine, sir. Nothing a good night’s rest can’t fix. Or perhaps, the sweet smell of victory.”

David smiled ever so slightly. “Glad to see your sense of humor is intact.”

The idle chitchat of the two men was interrupted by Ruth’s voice in a tone that was near panic. “Conn, TAO! New contacts, bearing 343, positive azimuth 30, range fifty thousand kilometers! Three primary contacts designated Master Six-oh-one, Six-oh-two, Six-oh-three. Three Alexander class battleships. Numerous escorts include Rand class cruisers, Cobra class destroyers, and Lancer-class frigates!”

David’s mind leaped into overdrive; Seville’s trying to mousetrap us. The ships in front will hold us in place, while the fleet coming up our aft will run us down. Classic hammer and anvil. Not if I’ve got anything to do with it.

“TAO, display the new contacts on the holoviewer and zoom in to that portion of the battlefield.”

“Aye aye, sir!” Ruth answered.

David spun his chair around, viewing the battlefield through the holographic viewer; it showed him the relative position of the new League ships. The three Alexanders were coming toward the fleet in a line abreast formation, with their escorts bunched out ahead of them. Taking a moment to process the League’s tactics, David quickly devised an engagement plan. “How’s this sound, XO? We go straight down their throats. Every ship we’ve got… overwhelm them before they can pin the damaged ships down.”

Aibek stared at the display himself. “That is an aggressive strategy, sir. One worthy of a Saurian. Keep in mind we have limited support from our fighters and bombers.”

“We’ll get no support from them, XO.”

Aibek raised a scale over his right eye. “We could get some of them back into space to help…”

“No, that’s suicide for the pilots. The squadrons are shattered, the comms network is in tatters, and most of those fast movers only have half a tank of fuel, and whatever energy left in their neutron cannons. I won’t ask men and women to go out and die needlessly. The capital ships will punch our way through.”

“Of course, sir. I didn’t mean to suggest…” Aibek began.

“I know you didn’t, XO. I’m sorry, I’m even more direct than normal right now.”

“Ah, your inner Saurian is coming out.”

David laughed, needing just a little bit of release amidst the pain and chaos around him. He turned his chair back around, toward the front of the bridge. “Navigation, plot an intercept course on the battleship in the middle of the formation, Master Six-oh-two! Stand by to engage on my mark.”

The reserve navigator, Second Lieutenant Rachel Marks, quickly responded, “Aye aye, sir. Intercept course set.”

“Communications, signal the fleet to form up around us, with the least damaged ships in the lead. Order all ships to engage the escorts; the Lion will deal with the League battleships.”

“Aye aye, sir,” Taylor replied.

“TAO, firing point procedures, forward magnetic cannons, and neutron beams, Master Six-oh-two.”

“Firing solutions set, sir.”

David glanced at Aibek. “We’ll conduct an alpha strike on the center battleship with our particle beams. Then we’ll engage the other two ships. That ought to keep them guessing.”

Aibek nodded, but David could tell from how he was shifting the scales around his eyes and the top of his head that he was quite uneasy with the plan.

“Conn, communications. The fleet has acknowledged your orders,” Taylor interjected.

“Navigation, all ahead full.”

“Aye aye, sir, all ahead full.”

David felt the massive engines of the Lion engage, pressing him back in his chair through the effects of the inertial damping systems. “TAO, ETA to weapons range?”

“We’ll be within their weapons range in sixty seconds, sir,” Ruth answered; as she was speaking, the information on her console began to change. “Conn, TAO! Aspect change, Master Six-oh-one, Master Six-oh-two, Master Six-oh-three. All three contacts and their escorts are moving toward us on an intercept course, range, forty-thousand kilometers. Enemy vessels are now moving at flank speed, ETA twenty seconds to weapons range.”

“Conn, communications. Incoming message from Admiral Seville for you, sir.”

“Put it on my viewer, Lieutenant,” David said, wearing an amused smirk on his face. “Can’t think of a better way to pass the time.”

The face of Admiral Seville appeared on David’s monitor. “Ah, Colonel Cohen. We meet again.”

“Hasn’t been long enough, Admiral,” David replied, his voice a hard edge.

“I take it you’re in command after the gallant defeat of the noble Admiral Kartal?”

“Kartal’s smallest claw has more honor in it than your entire ship,” David ground out. “What do you want, Seville?”

“Ah… what do I want? Such an expansive question, Colonel Cohen. What I want… I want to be back on Earth, enjoying my life and the fruits of the League’s labor. I want to see the end of this conflict and humanity reunited.”

In spite of himself, David couldn’t help but smirk. “Sounds like you’re ready for retirement, Admiral. We could help you fill out the paperwork if you’d like?”

“Such a generous offer! I see that wit of yours hasn’t dulled with time. Ah, but we didn’t come here to trade banter, did we? I’d like to offer you the opportunity to surrender before your fleet is crushed between my forces. There’s no need for such an extreme loss of life.”

David leaned forward in his chair, his face twitching with anger. How does this man live with himself? He’s got the gall to make it sound like he wants to avoid loss of life? “I appreciate the offer, Admiral. But I’d rather destroy the ships you’ve placed in front of us, come back later, and finish the job.”

“Taking pleasure in killing doesn’t become a religious man, Colonel Cohen.”

“Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth. What you have done to others will be visited on you. That’s straight from the Torah, Admiral. Now I think we’re about ready to engage your forces, unless you’d rather warn them off?”

“I think not, Colonel. See you in the gulag,” Seville replied, his face curled up in a smirk.

The vidlink feed blinked off.

“Conn, TAO! Entering maximum weapons range of enemy contacts.”

David grimly looked forward. “TAO, match bearings, shoot, all weapons, Master Six-oh-two.”

Weapons fire lashed out from the Lion of Judah, slamming into the shields of the first League battleship in its sights. All around the Lion, her consorts filled space with bright neutron cannon beams, magnetic-cannon rounds, and what few missiles they had left. League escort craft exploded left and right; the Lancer class frigates and Cobra class destroyers were especially hard hit. But the League wasn’t defenseless, the weapons suites of the scores of enemy ships they faced gave as good as they got. David winced every time a CDF or RSN icon blinked out, another crew lost, another family that would never see their loved ones again.

“Conn, TAO! Repeated impacts on Master Six-oh-two’s forward shields. They’ve weakened substantially sir.”

David glanced up at this plot before he spoke toward Rachel. “Navigation, line us up perfectly with Master Six-oh-two.”

“Aye aye, sir, adjusting our heading.”

“TAO, firing point procedures, forward magnetic cannons, neutron beam emitters, and the forward particle beams, Master Six-oh-two.”

“Firing solution set, sir.”

“Navigation, TAO, confirm bearings matched for forward particle beam strike.”

Rachel glanced back at David. “Bearing matched, sir. We’re on target.”

David nodded, annoyed that she broke bridge protocol and took her eyes off the navigation station. “TAO, shoot, magnetic cannons and neutron beams.”

Another round of weapons fire exploded from the Lion, impacting the shields of the League battleship; David waited until those weapons had connected before ordering the next strike. “TAO, shoot, forward particle beams.”

Ruth pressed another button on her console, and the massive particle beams housed under the Lion’s flight decks opened up. The enormous draw of energy caused the lights on the ship to dim momentarily as power roared from them into the deep of space. The vessel was lined up nearly dead on with the Alexander class battleship, and all four beams struck its weakened forward shields. After a moment, those defensive screens failed, and the energy punched through the League vessel’s hull, turning it molten and eviscerating the ship. A few seconds later, secondary explosions began to bloom all over the battleship’s hull, followed by a massive explosion, which turned the once mighty vessel into a debris field.

Watching the tactical plot, at that moment, David had no remorse and no compassion. He just moved on to the next task. The enlisted members of the bridge crew, after so much loss, were ready for a victory. Shouts began to ring out, and Rachel joined in the cheering. David didn’t hear the master chief pipe up, so he did it for her. “As you were!” he bellowed. “Focus on the task at hand; there’s still two more battleships out there and a whole lot more Leaguers!”

Chastened, the personnel that had been cheering immediately fell silent and returned to their duties. Ruth then interrupted David’s thoughts. “Conn, TAO! Aspect change, Master Six-oh-one, and Six-oh-three. Enemy vessels are slowing down, sir.”

David looked back up at the tactical plot; it showed the two battleships on a course that would lead to one off his starboard quarter, the other off his port quarter. It was time to finish this fight before the trailing League ships caught up and made everything go sideways.

“TAO, firing point procedures, port side magnetic cannons, and neutron beams, Master Six-oh-one! Firing point procedures, starboard side magnetic cannons, and neutron beams, Master Six-oh-three!” David commanded in a calm and clear voice.

“Firing solutions set, sir,” Ruth responded automatically. After nine months of working together, they were an utterly synchronous team.

“Match bearings, shoot, all weapons.”

Now the Lion split her fire between the two League warships; although easily a match for one of the battleships, two at the same time was a different matter. The League ships, in slowing down, allowed themselves more time to focus fire on the Lion’s forward shield arc. Magnetic cannon and neutron beam fire crisscrossed space, while the League’s signature plasma-based weaponry thundered back in return. Hit after hit was landed by all three ships, their size and range making missed shots almost impossible.

“Conn, TAO! Forward shield collapse imminent, sir! Moderate damage to both vessels’ shielding,” Ruth reported as the exchange of fire continued.

“Navigation, flank speed. Take us into the debris field left by Master Six-oh-two. Everything we’ve got. TAO, what’s the status of our vertical launch array reloads?”

“Aye aye, sir! Answering flank speed,” Rachel called out, and even as she said it, David could feel the Lion move forward with just a little more purpose.

Ruth checked the status of the missile cells, then glanced back at David while shaking her head. “Sir, forward VRLS is fifteen minutes from positive reload. Aft VRLS is at seventy-five percent capacity.”

David’s mind raced. Only one launch array at seventy-five percent was still ninety missiles, but how many were Hunters? “TAO, how many Hunter missiles are loaded into the aft launch array?”

“Forty Hunters and fifty Starbolts, sir. Reloading teams are about to start work on the last cell—”

“Order them to cease reloading activities and make the aft VRLS ready for combat,” David interjected; forty Hunter missiles were enough for what he had in mind.

“Aye aye, sir.”

More rumblings shook the bridge; the League ships were connecting with plasma weaponry and had the Lion dialed in. David took the precious time to glance at the tactical plot of the entire battlespace; the Ajax class destroyers and the motley group of Saurian and CDF heavy cruisers were cutting through the League’s inferior ships, but the League was still drawing blood. As he watched, several friendly icons blinked out, indicating a destroyed vessel. While he reviewed the battlefield, there was a noticeable decrease in hits being taken to the Lion. Switching back to the localized view, he saw the Lion had entered the debris field from the destroyed battleship. That should buy us a few seconds for what I’ve got planned.

“TAO, firing point procedures, port side magnetic cannons, and neutron beams, Master Six-oh-one. Firing point procedures, starboard side magnetic cannons, and neutron beams, Master Six-oh-three. Load EMP rounds into all magnetic cannons.”

“Firing solutions set, sir.”

“TAO, firing point procedures, aft VRLS; twenty Hunters and twenty-five Starbolts, Master Six-oh-one! Firing point procedures, aft VRLS, twenty Hunters and twenty-five Starbolts, Master Six-oh-three! Make tubes one hundred twenty through two hundred ten ready in all respects and open outer doors.”

Aibek looked at David. “Take down their shields then use the Hunter missiles to strike killing blows?”

David cracked a smile. “Exactly, XO. We just have to stay alive long enough to do it.”

“Firing solutions set for missile armament, sir!” Ruth cut in.

“TAO, match bearings, shoot, all magnetic cannons, and neutron beams.”

Ruth pressed the corresponding buttons to fire the magnetic cannons, watching the shells race away from the Lion. Most of the shells struck home, exploding when they hit the energy barrier that protected the League warships. As soon as she detected fluctuations in the battleships shield energy, she followed up with full power neutron beam blasts.

“Conn, TAO! Master Six-oh-three shields have failed! Master Six-oh-one shielding is reduced to thirty-five percent effectiveness.”

“TAO, shoot, Hunters and Starbolts, Master Six-oh-three.”

Forty-five missiles erupted out of the aft missile array, one after the other every half a second.

“Conn, TAO! All missiles running hot, straight and normal. Impact in ten seconds on Master Six-oh-three.”

David stared at his tactical plot, which showed the missiles tracking into the icon for the League battleship. Point defense on the League ship knocked many of the Starbolt missiles down, but he’d expected that. Hunter‘s had an advanced artificial intelligence, and were far harder to evade, spoof, or destroy. Every last one of them hit the same quadrant of the enemy vessel, causing massive explosions that pierced the armor plating of the ship and damaged the inner hull.

“Conn, TAO! Master Six-oh-three is slowing forward momentum and has ceased coordinated firing. Some weapons appear to be under local control, but she’s essentially disabled.”

Well, they’ve got guts. I’ll give them that… to keep firing weapons blindly while controlled only by the gun’s crew spoke to a level of commitment David rarely saw from the League. He opened his mouth to give the next order, but Ruth spoke first.

“Conn, TAO! Port shields close to collapse, sir,” Underscoring her point, the ship rocked under repeatedly plasma hits from the remaining League battleship. “Port shield failed!” Ruth followed up.

“Navigation, right full, thirty-five degrees up bubble, present our ventral shield to the enemy.”

“Aye aye, sir,” Rachel almost shouted back as she manipulated the controls to move the ship.

David felt the ship begin to adjust to its new heading, while the artificial gravity generators onboard made it appear as if the vessel had sharply tilted upwards for a split second before they compensated for the effect. Enemy fire continued to rake into the hull of the Lion, each hit registering as a shudder. Then the tremors were gone; the ventral shield was now taking the enemy fire. He looked at his plot as the Lion began to execute its turn, bringing the forward weaponry of the ship to bear on the final battleship that stood between them and escape.

“Conn, TAO! Aspect change, Master Six-oh-one! She’s coming about and maneuvering to attack our forward shield!” Ruth announced.

David looked back at the tactical plot one more time before locking his eyes on Rachel. “Navigation, come to course zero-six-zero, direct bearing on Master Six-oh-one!”

“Aye aye, sir, course adjusting!” Rachel answered, her voice a little more crisp and sure of itself.

“TAO, status of the forward particle beams?”

“Still recharging, sir—at least five more minutes,” Ruth replied.

We don’t have another five minutes. “We’ll have to make do with the rest of our weapons complement then,” David said aloud, with a sidelong glance at Aibek; the big Saurian was in his chair, but it seemed clear he was still suffering the adverse effects of his previous injury. “TAO, firing point procedures, forward magnetic cannons, and neutron beams, Master Six-oh-one.”

A moment later, Ruth responded, “Firing solutions set, sir.”

“TAO, reconfirm firing solutions for Master Six-oh-one, Starbolt and Hunter missiles.”

“Firing solutions set, all weapons, sir.”

David leaned forward in his seat, staring down the enemy ship looming in front of them. “TAO, match bearings, shoot, all weapons, Master Six-oh-one.”

Ruth launched the magnetic-cannon rounds first as she almost always did; they slammed into the weakened shields of the Alexander class battleship, while a few moments later, neutron beams from the Lion broke through the almost depleted screens and into her hull. As this was occurring, she launched the remaining missiles in the aft missile array; another forty-five multi-megaton warheads headed out from the Lion. “Conn, TAO! All missiles running hot, straight, and normal, sir.”

David’s eyes were glued to the tactical plot, showing the mass of missiles rushing toward the final League battleship. Much like before, the League’s point defense was reasonably effective at knocking down the less advanced Starbolt missiles, but because they split their fire between the two types of warheads, the Hunters got through almost entirely unscathed. Pelting the hull of the League ship with nuclear fire, large chunks of the enemy ship turned molten and exploded. Finally, the onslaught of warheads hit something explosive—possibly a primary missile magazine or reactor—and the vessel exploded, turning into a field of debris in less than ten seconds.

“Conn, TAO! Master Six-oh-one destroyed, sir!” Ruth shouted at the top of her lungs.

“Very good, TAO!” Aibek shouted, his bloodlust apparently stirred.

Relief broke through David’s exterior, and for just a moment, a smile creased his face. “Nice shooting, Goldberg!” he said, breaking bridge protocol and letting out the anger for just a moment. Three League battlewagons weren’t enough to even the score, but it was a great start. “TAO, status of our escorts?” he asked, the mask of command once again taking control.

“Sir, all escorting ships have cleared the minefield boundaries and are in a safe position to engage Lawrence drives.”

“Communications, signal the fleet to withdraw to rally point bravo.”

“Aye aye, sir,” Taylor called out in quick response.

“Navigation, plot a Lawrence drive jump to rally point bravo and stand by to engage on my mark.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

David leaned back in his seat for just a moment. How bad it was depended on how many ships made it out, but given the losses already sustained, the butcher's bill was almost impossible to pay. They couldn’t replace the kind of carnage that had been inflicted today; that was the Achilles heel of the Terran Coalition.

“Conn, communications, the fleet is reporting jump readiness and ships are beginning to jump out,” Taylor interjected.

“Conn, TAO, confirmed, multiple Lawrence drive light-offs confirmed.”

David watched the tactical plot as over the next several minutes, hundreds of CDF and RSN ships jumped out until, finally, they were the last ship bearing the Canaan Alliance flag in the battlespace. He looked toward Rachel. “TAO, power down our weapons and drain the energy weapons capacitor. Navigation, commence Lawrence drive jump.”

“Aye aye, sir,” Ruth responded, transferring the weapon systems power to navigation for the jump.

“Aye aye, sir, jumping now!” Rachel replied, initiating the sequence to open an artificial wormhole.

David felt the ship begin to shudder as the mammoth Lawrence drive opened a hole between two points in the universe; there was a display of dizzying colors in front of the Lion as the artificial wormhole became visible to the naked eye. Moving forward under sub-light engine power, the vessel entered in one side, and moments later popped out the other, a hundred lightyears away.

“Conn, Navigation. Lawrence drive jump complete, sir,” Rachel announced.

David stared straight ahead, waiting for the LIDAR sensor arrays to snap on, and for sensor readings to come back.

“Conn, TAO. No hostile contacts, sir.”

David sighed inwardly in relief. “TAO, status of the fleet? How many did we lose?”

While Ruth was processing his request, Aibek stood. “Colonel, while we did take losses, we also inflicted many more. By my count, we destroyed over two hundred and fifty League ships.”

At the mention of the sheer number of League ships destroyed, David allowed himself to smile. “That’s pretty good shooting, XO.” And then the smile faded. “But it came at a high price.”

“Conn, TAO. I’m showing we took another five percent losses in the fight with the League blocking force.”

That information was enough to completely sober any thought David had of calling the battle a victory. “Thank you, TAO.” He glanced forward, past her and into space. “Signal the fleet to prepare damage control reports and send them to the XO. I want all senior officers to report to the wardroom in three hours for status updates and to plan a way forward. Until then, man your posts.”

There was a chorus of “aye aye, sirs,” and then David, despite being surrounded by dozens of people on the busy bridge, was very much alone in his thoughts. Dear God, how do we go forward? How can we hope to win?

13

“Such a victory, Admiral!” Strappi trilled in his sing-song voice. The effect of it was like fingernails being raked across a chalkboard in Seville’s mind. Sitting in the officers’ lounge on Unity Station, he shared the room with Strappi and the commanding officer of the station, Fleet Captain Astrid Monet. In his hand, he held a fine French wine, a Pinot Noir from the south of France.

“The victory is not complete, Colonel,” Seville replied in a sour tone. “The Lion of Judah is not destroyed, and we failed to destroy their carriers. Those are how the Terran Coalition projects its power. To defeat them, we must take down the carriers!”

“Still, the first time our sailors have seen the backs of the so-called Canaan Alliance in several months, Admiral,” Astrid said, her French accent coming through.

“We should run them down, Admiral,” Strappi said, half drunk.

“Are you an absolute idiot, Colonel? No, wait, don’t answer that. I already know you are,” Seville retorted. “Our strength is the minefield. It’s a static weapon. If we start trying to hunt for the Terrans and their disgusting reptilian allies, they will destroy our divided forces in detail. No! The only sound strategy is to keep our forces concentrated so that they can annihilate the enemy when they return… because they will return. It’s the only move they have.”

“I do not believe it would be wise to say such a thing to Chairman Pallis…” Strappi began.

“It would not be wise for you to contradict me again, Colonel!” Seville snapped.

“Do we know when additional reinforcements will be coming, Admiral?” Astrid said, apparently seeking to defuse the tension that was so thick in the room, it could be cut with a knife.

“I’ve been assured that more battlegroups will be here within the day. Upgraded battleships and at least one fleet carrier.”

“Our minelayers have begun refilling the field,” Astrid commented. “I expect it to be back to full strength within twenty-four hours.”

“Good,” Seville replied. “We still lost too many ships,” he groused. But we’ll win the day. I will get my revenge on Colonel Cohen and his merry band of heroes. When I’m done with their fleet, the League will roll all the way to Canaan.

Astrid glanced at Seville. “Search and rescue units have completed their first survey of the destroyed ships. We recovered most of the bodies.”

“Unity Station has a crematorium, does it not?” Seville asked.

“Yes, Admiral.”

“Then take care of them there. Make sure that the ashes are properly stored so we can send them back to their respective families,” Seville said, still wearing a dour expression. The truth is, most of those families will never see the remains. Or even get the courtesy of a visit from a naval officer. It’s something I should change, once I take over the League.

* * *

A couple of hours later, David strode into the Lion’s wardroom. Beyond the usual command staff that was present including Aibek, Ruth, Hanson, Amir, Tinetariro, Taylor, and Calvin, there was also Kenneth Lowe, the leader of the defense contractors, along with a senior nurse from the medical staff. Doctor Tural had sent a note to David saying that there were too many severe injuries for him to leave the medical bay.

As those assembled rose to come to attention, David took notice of the grave expressions and unsmiling faces that greeted him. I’m going to have to get them back on track; if bad attitudes set in, we’re lost. “As you were,” he said, watching them all sit slowly as if fatigued.

David sat down at the head of the table, making eye contact with a few of those seated. “I’m not going to try to sugar coat this,” David began. “Today has been hell. No, it’s been worse than hell. We got our butts handed to us out there.”

“With respect, sir, getting our butts handed to us would have been a loss rate of ten percent. I lost one thousand, sixty-three Marines,” Calvin interjected. “That’s a third of my effective combat force.”

David made eye contact with Calvin. “Leaving us with two-thirds to try again.”

“Try again? Sir, if we don’t perform major repairs, our anti-matter reactor will stop working, and we’ll be dead the next time,” Hanson said, beads of sweat visible on his face, along with grease stains.

“Anyone else want to add in something negative?” David replied, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“Morale is… poor, but the senior chiefs and I will rectify the situation, sir,” Tinetariro interjected.

“Glad to hear it, Master Chief, but we need to start with ourselves.”

“That’s easy enough for you to say, Colonel. You didn’t lose a third of your bridge crew,” Calvin snapped back.

“Stow that crap, Colonel Demood,” David said with a hard edge to his voice. “No one’s got time for a pity party right now.”

The forcefulness of his tone got everyone’s attention. They sat just a little bit straighter and looked even more on edge. “Yes, sir,” Calvin ground out.

“Listen, people. Admiral Kartal tasked me to find a way to defeat the League. That starts right here, right now. I want all of you to get a big mug of coffee, go back to your stations after this meeting, and tell me what went wrong, and more importantly, how we’re going to defeat the League’s new toy,” David remarked, glancing around the room. Still unhappy with the responses of his crew, he added in a loud and direct tone, “Are we clear?”

“Crystal, sir!” Tinetariro said, her voice sharp. The rest of them nodded.

“Very well. Damage report, XO?”

Aibek leaned forward. “We still have several areas experiencing hard vacuum, sir, and there are microfractures across our armored hull plating. We will need a full overhaul once this is over. I will leave specific system details to Major Hanson, but I believe we can be combat-ready in forty-eight human hours.”

David’s eyes shifted to Hanson. “Major?”

Hanson cleared his throat. “XO’s right, sir. We took a beating, but if you give us and the contractors forty-eight hours, we’ll be as good as we can be outside of an actual two- to three-week overhaul.”

“What about right now?” David asked.

“Right now, half our neutron beam emitters are disabled, the port side ventral mag-cannon turrets are fused in place, our engines are thrusting at sixty percent of optimal output, and the reactor’s cooling loop is crisscrossed like a Christmas tree.”

David sighed. I guess I have to accept this will take a couple of days. “Alright. Keep me posted. Colonel Amir… what’s the flight wing’s status?”

Amir’s eyes stayed focused on the table. “Fifty percent losses of our space superiority fighter squadrons. Thirty percent losses on our bomber squadrons. An unknown number of pilots captured.”

“Colonel, I need you to work a plan to get those squadrons ready to fight again with the same timeline as our ship repairs. Forty-eight hours, no more.”

Amir lifted his head and stared at David with a glassy-eyed look. “Sir, half of my squadron commanders are gone. My XO is gone. We’re no longer an effective fighting force.”

David nearly bit off a piece of his tongue to avoid going off on Amir. “Colonel… we have to go on. We all have to go on. Knit those squadrons back together. I know you can do it.”

Watching as Amir nodded his acceptance, David moved on to Calvin. “Colonel Demood… realizing you lost thirty percent of your force, what are the specifics of what was lost?”

“I guess we were lucky compared to everyone else,” Calvin said, apparently aiming for his Marine macho tone but missing the mark. “Since we were assaulting a space station, we didn’t have heavy vehicles or equipment, besides some squad-serviced weapons. Most of my losses were trigger pullers. The good news, if there is any, is that our entire commando and special operations contingent survived.”

“Thank you, Colonel.” He next turned his attention to the senior nurse. “Nurse Attar, what can you tell us about the Lion’s causalities?”

“Not counting pilot and Marine KIA, sir, we had, as of when I left the medical bay, two hundred eighty-nine confirmed dead, over four hundred wounded, and sixty-three missing,” Attar said quietly.

More people than we lost in the last three months. No, not we… I. It’s on me. The specter of doubt and fear threatened to flood into David’s mind. Suppressing it, he forced himself to stay on task. “Lieutenant Hammond’s condition?”

“She’s stable, sir. Right now, the doctors are overwhelmed with trauma cases, so we’ll perform a skin graft and rejuvenation treatment on her later this evening. Based on a review of her chart, I believe she’ll be well enough for active duty by late tomorrow.”

David nodded. While the backup navigator, Second Lieutenant Marks, was good at her job, he wanted the best officer he had driving the ship when they took the fight back to the League, and that was Hammond. “Thank you, Nurse Attar. Major Hanson, can you expound on our reactor issues?”

“Yes, sir. Our primary magnetic containment loop was severely damaged by one of the mine blasts. Doctor Hayworth was able to stabilize the system, but like the XO said, sir, it's crisscrossed like a Christmas tree. We need to shut down the reactor and perform a radiation purge. At that point, we get into the containment chamber to recalibrate the system.”

“A bit over my head, but that’s what I’ve got Hanson and Hayworth for. How long is it going to take?”

“At least eighteen hours, sir, and that’s with significant contractor resources assigned.”

Kenneth leaned forward and asked, “Sirs, if I may?”

“Of course, Kenneth,” David replied.

“I believe it makes sense to split my teams up between ships that need repairs, sir.”

Hanson’s face clouded over. “That will cause repairs on the Lion to take longer.”

“With respect, sir, yes it will, but it will greatly increase the ability of the other ships to get damaged systems back online,” Kenneth replied, glancing between David and Hanson. “Reading over the reports from those ships, several of our capital ships have serious damage to primary systems. I believe prioritizing them will help us quickly restore the combat effectiveness of the fleet.”

Before Hanson could jump back in, and seeing the two men were both stressed, David interjected, “Gentlemen, I think we’ll save this topic for the meeting starting directly after this one.” At the puzzled looks of the others in the room, he explained further. “The Saurians are sending a couple of ship COs over, and I’ve asked a few of our own high-ranking COs to come to the Lion for discussions on the fleet. Don’t worry, we’re not rolling out the red carpet. Everyone understands all hands are on deck for repairs.”

David turned to look at Tinetariro. “Master Chief, as you mentioned earlier, I noticed morale has been poor the last few hours. What steps are you taking to fix it?”

“Morale is not good, sir,” Tinetariro commented in her posh English accent. “We were all expecting to go in there and put a stake through the heart of the League. As it was, we barely got out with our lives. There’s a lot of concern about this new weapon they have. That’s one thing we’ve always had on our side… better technology. A few words from you would go a long way, sir.”

David closed his eyes momentarily. He knew that Tinetariro was right, but they had to stay on point and find a way to win. “Understood, Master Chief. I’ll address the crew later today. We cannot allow poor morale to set in. I’m with General MacIntosh on that subject…poor morale will cause defeat. Period, full stop.”

Looking around the room at the drawn faces, David decided what was best was for as many of them as possible to throw themselves into solving the problem of how to detect and destroy the League’s new mines. “Any saved rounds?”

“Sir, I’ve got something to add,” Taylor said in a voice that carried across the table. At David’s nod, he continued. “The Lion isn’t currently set up to be the ship’s flagship, sir. We need to reconfigure our tactical network to be the endpoint for the fleet, and you’ll need a flag staff, sir.”

David raised an eyebrow. “A flag staff?”

“Yes, sir. I’ve served before as the flag communications officer on a carrier, and if we’re going to try to manage four hundred plus ships, you have to have officers assigned to manage that fleet, sir.”

“Well, if you’ve served in that role before, Lieutenant, I think you just got a new assignment,” David replied with a smile. “For the duration of this engagement, consider yourself in charge of the flag staff.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll get right on it.”

David nodded while looking up at the wall-mounted chronometer that showed him it was two minutes until the next group arrived. “Very well. Everyone except Colonel Aibek, Major Hansen, and Mister Lowe are dismissed.”

David stood, as did the everyone else in the room. Taylor was the first to the hatch that led to the passageway to the bridge on deck one. He opened it up, and the command staff filed out of the conference room, with Ruth closing it behind her.

“What now, sir?” Aibek questioned.

“The COs of the CSV Cicero and CSV Saratoga, RSN Ts’tam, and RSN S’shpos, will be arriving momentarily. The two Saurian COs command the largest ships in the Saurian contingent. The Saratoga is our most combat-ready carrier… eighty percent of her combat spacecraft and pilots survived. As for Colonel Ronald Meier, who commands the Cicero, I haven’t seen him in over a year, and he’s the most senior colonel by grade in the fleet. My thought is if we can forge a good working relationship with these four, it’ll be far easier to get through the next few days.” Unspoken was David’s thought that not only did they need a good working relationship with the four commanding officers, but he had to earn their respect. Which is why I invited Colonel Meier. I already know he respects my abilities.

“I see, sir.”

Further conversation was cut off by the hatch swinging open yet again. Immediately, a young private stuck her head in the door. “Sirs, the VIP party is here.”

David motioned her inside. “Bring them in, Private.”

Two burly, tall Saurian males followed the far shorter woman, at least by comparison, into the conference room. Directly following them was Colonel Meier and another human male in a CDF uniform. David pulled himself up to his full height, and while not coming to attention, put his hands at his side. “Welcome aboard the Lion, gentlemen.”

All of the newcomers braced to attention, led by Meier. Grateful for the show of respect, David smiled. “At ease, gentlemen.” Stepping forward and around the table, he extended his hand to Meier, who was closest. “Colonel, it’s terrific to see you again, and the first time in the flesh.”

Meier took David’s hand and shook it warmly. “It’s been a while since I presented evidence at your hearing. You’ve been busy since then.”

While he was speaking, David’s eyes glanced at Meier’s uniform with the CDF flag patch on his left arm, the American flag under it. His uniform lacked a religious emblem.

The rest of those present laughed as well, as David joined in. “Yes, we have, Colonel. Ye, we have.” He moved down to the next man, a tall, dark-skinned human who also wore the insignia of a colonel. He was nearly as tall as the two Saurian COs and had an impressive array of ribbons on his uniform.

David extended his hand, and the man shook it warmly, but with impressive strength.

“Colonel Cohen, allow me to introduce myself; Colonel Alexander Parks, commanding officer of the CSV Saratoga.”

As Colonel Parks spoke, David took note that he as well carried the American flag on his left arm. Under that, he had the flag of Christianity as well; an emblem of a mostly white background with a blue square that contained a red cross. That makes sense. The Saratoga is an American carrier which the CDF reflagged when the war broke out so many years ago. “Pleasure to meet you, Colonel.”

“Likewise, Colonel. Quite a beautiful ship you have here. Colonel Meier has apprised me of your previous exploits aboard the Yitzchak Rabin on our way up. I must say I never read the full story. Good for you, beating Bastard Barton,” Alexander said, invoking the unofficial name for General Barton throughout the fleet. He’d been forcibly retired after the second battle of Canaan.

David broke into a grin. “Much appreciated, Colonel Parks.”

Moving on to the two Saurians, David extended out his hand to the first Saurian, who stood easily a foot taller than his six-foot-two-inch stature. “Welcome aboard the Lion of Judah.”

The Saurian considered David’s hand for a moment before extending his hand and shaking. “Thank you, Colonel. I greet you in the name of the Saurian Royal Navy, and our divine Prophet. Allow me to formally introduce myself, as you humans would say. I am Void Captain As’slan Thess, commanding the RSN Ts’tam.” Thess gestured to the other Saurian. “This is Void Captain S’stro ke’Ristesh, the commander of the RSN S’shpos. I speak for both of us when I say I hope that you are worthy of the trust Admiral Kartal, God rest his soul, placed in you. What is your plan to defeat the enemy?”

Well, it didn’t take long for them to cut to the chase, David mused in thought. He flashed a quick smile at the Saurians and the human officers. “Please have a seat, and we’ll discuss my thoughts. Private, you’re dismissed,” he said toward the young enlisted soldier who had been tasked to deliver the VIPs to the conference room.

She quickly came to attention. “Aye aye, sir!” The young woman turned on her heel and exited out the hatch, closing it behind her.

David gestured to the seats at the table and waited for all those in the room to sit before he sat. “Gentlemen, we’ve got a lot to do here, and not a lot of time to do it in. The first thing we have to set ourselves to is getting our ships and the fleet back into fighting shape.”

Alexander cleared his throat. “With respect, Colonel. My ship is in fighting shape.”

David turned and glanced at him. “That’s good to hear, Colonel Parks. We’ll need to get any spare engineering crew you have assigned elsewhere.”

Alexander’s face twisted, his brow furrowing. “And where should I send them? For how long?”

David smiled and turned to Kenneth. “Mr. Lowe, your job is to determine which ships are fully operational and then assist the command staff of those vessels with sending any spare engineering personnel to other ships that aren’t so fortunate.”

Kenneth’s jaw dropped. “Uh, yes, sir.”

“You want a civilian telling COs and XOs where to move personnel, Colonel?” Alexander asked, his face reddening as he spoke.

“That’s right, Colonel Parks. Mr. Lowe is a full-time program manager. He oversees the continuous improvement projects for the Lion’s integrated systems. I can think of no one in this fleet more qualified to handle issues of cost, schedule, and performance than him. Unless you have another candidate in mind?”

Ronald took the opportunity to interject and try to smooth things over. “I like the idea of sticking a defense contractor on the ship repair problem. Speaking of which, if you have contractors onboard, do you have any government civilians?”

David couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “I don’t allow government bureaucrats on board if I can help it. We had someone from SUPFLEET for a while, but I ran him off. The scariest phrase in the English language is ‘Hi, I’m from the government, and I’m here to help.’”

There were chuckles from all the humans, while the Saurians looked on impassively. Thess spoke in a dry tone. “I don’t understand why humans constantly make fun of their government. If you don’t like how your system of governance works, why not change it?”

David rubbed his chin. “That’s not a bad question, Void Captain. Someone back on Earth once said democracy was the absolute worst form of government ever invented… except for all the others. So I guess we’re just stuck with an imperfect system that mostly works. But back to our problem. Each rally point has a fully functional ship repair tender loaded with spare parts, correct, Major Hanson?”

Hanson nodded and glanced between David and Parks. “Yes, sir. As soon as we have an idea of the fleet-wide needs, we can come up with a list of what we’ve got, what we need, and prioritize from there.”

Kenneth leaned forward. “Sirs, if I may…” he began hesitantly before receiving a nod from David. “I’d like to create a triage list, and if possible, repair the least damaged ships first.”

David raised an eyebrow. “Explain that, Kenneth.”

“Well, sir, the objective is to get as many ships back into the fight as quickly as possible, correct?”

David nodded, wordlessly encouraging the contractor to continue.

“Fixing the least damaged ships and then pooling our engineering resources to tackle the ships left with major damage makes the most sense to me.”

David looked to the rest of those assembled. “Any objections?”

Thess spoke. “I have no objection, Colonel, but what of our ships? We have taken significant damage as well.”

Hanson frowned as he made eye contact with the Saurian. “We haven’t made much progress with interchangeable parts or procedures between Coalition Defense Force and Saurian Royal Navy vessels, sir.”

“Void Captain Thess, would you allow CDF engineers to assist in whatever way they can?” David asked.

“Of course. We would also like to discuss a memorial for the dead.”

By focusing on the logistical tasks and his duties, David had been able to avoid most internal soul-searching about the losses they’d suffered. So far, at least. “Of course, Void Captain. I’d propose we have a joint memorial service that includes your faith and ours. I’m sure you know there are several major religions active in the Terran Coalition. Is that agreeable?”

Thess inclined his head. “Of course. The Prophet taught us to bury our dead within a single day. We lack bodies to bury of our lost warriors, but I would still like to have the memorial within the next day.”

“That’s agreeable to us. Any objections or comments?” David asked of the room at large.

“I’d like to request we include a chaplain from the secular humanists, Colonel,” Ronald interjected.

“Of course. Now, before my senior officers and I brief the leaders of both our nations and the Supreme Allied Command, Space Force, I want to discuss what happens next. After we repair our ships and bury our dead, we’re taking another crack at Admiral Seville and his butchers.”

Ronald raised an eyebrow. “Have you figured out how to beat those mines, Colonel?”

“Not yet. I’ve got the brightest minds on this ship working on it, and I want every tactical officer in this fleet working that problem with every spare moment they have. Are we clear on that, gentlemen?”

“Yes sir,” Ronald replied crisply, while the others nodded their understanding.

“As long as we can defeat the mines, we still have the means to crush Admiral Seville and the League’s forces on site. CDF Intelligence believes they receive weekly reinforcements, so it’s vital we launch our next attack within the next forty-eight hours. After that, they’ll get another wave of new ships. We neutralized several battlegroups on our way out and took out at least one hundred and eighty ships. We’ll have a significant advantage in a rematch.”

“I would remind you, Colonel, the fleet’s small craft complements took incredible losses. Fifty percent nearly across the board. My carrier is the only one with something approaching a full load of fighters,” Alexander said with an edge to his voice. “It may be prudent to wait for replacement squadrons, at a minimum.”

“I’ll take that under advisement, Colonel. However, I don’t believe we have the time to wait. If we’re taking this station, it’s got to happen now. We’re not leaving here without the Terran Coalition flag flying proudly. Now I’ve got the leaders of our two nations in five minutes. We’ll synch up later today via vidlink. Any saved rounds?”

“None, Colonel,” Alexander responded curtly.

The Saurians shook their heads and began to stand, while Ronald leaned forward and looked down toward David. “Colonel, the opening move might have been a complete cluster, but I want you to know we have faith in your abilities. Can you conjure up one more miracle?”

“I’m not in the miracle business, Colonel,” David said with a small smile breaking onto his face. “Those are a bit above my pay grade. I’ll be praying to the one that makes them happen later. His name is a strong tower, and we’ll take refuge in it.”

“I hope for all our sakes, there’s one more piece of magic left in your bag. I’ll get my tactical officer on the mine problem.”

David stood from his chair, as did everyone else in attendance. “Thank you all for coming. I felt meeting in person was needed in this dire hour. Return to your ships, and I’ll be in touch with the fleet as soon as we’ve briefed the joint chiefs and our respective leaders.”

Watching his guests depart, David’s soul was hanging in the balance between dread and confidence. With the combined brainpower of this fleet, we’ll find a way through the mines… God willing.

14

Three thousand lightyears away, in one of the richly appointed conference rooms inside of Canaan’s main government complex, Justin Spencer walked through the doorway with Chief Minister Obe Sherazi. Spencer had been in office for seven years. He was in his second term, and it was the last he’d be able to serve, as prescribed by the term limits laid out within their constitution. As the two leaders strode into the room, all of those assembled, both civilian and military, stood in respect.

“Please take your seats,” Spencer said in a quiet tone. He took the chair at the head of the table while Obe sat directly at his right hand. Looking across the conference table, he saw General Andrew MacIntosh, Secretary of Defense Colton Dunleavy, and the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, General Fernandez. There were also members of the Saurian Royal Navy present, assigned to the Supreme Allied Command. “Ladies and gentlemen… I only have one question. What the heck happened out there?”

Nervous glances coursed throughout the room. Dunleavy leaned forward and looked down at Spencer. “Mr. President, we got caught with our pants down. There was a systemic failure of intelligence. I take full responsibility, sir.”

Spencer cut Dunleavy off in mid-sentence. “Colton, I’m not looking for a scalp. You know me better than that. What I want to know is how bad was it, and how do we recover?”

Dunleavy sucked in a breath. Spencer could see beads of sweat on his forehead. “Sir, we lost nearly twenty percent of our fleet, fifty percent of our small craft, and thirty percent of the Marines. Admiral Kartal’s flagship was destroyed, and he was lost. Mercifully, most of his crew were rescued.” As Dunleavy spoke, there were gasps and stares of disbelief. They had heard it was bad, but none suspected it was this bad. “Colonel David Cohen was placed in command of the fleet by the admiral before he charged the League fleet with his ship and inflicted significant causalities. It’s not all bad, though.”

Spencer snorted. “I’m all for being positive, but you’re going to have to explain that one to me.”

“The fleet had to punch through a strong League force to exfil the battle space. They performed exceptionally well, and the Lion of Judah took down several Alexander class battleships. The remaining ships were able to withdraw in good order, and according to flash traffic we’ve received, are performing repairs at this time. We’ll have Colonel Cohen up on the vidlink here in a few minutes. We had to configure our long-range communication net to kick out all other traffic so we could have a direct call with him due to the extreme range.”

Spencer nodded. “Thank you, Colton.” He turned to the right and looked apologetically at Obe. “Chief Minister, this is not how I expected our after-action briefing to go today.”

Obe shook his head. “Nor I. I mourn for those lost, but more importantly, I share your desire to understand what went wrong. Losing the admiral is a blow to our cause.”

A major in the back of the room punched at the control for the audio-visual equipment. “Sirs, I’ve got Colonel Cohen online now for you.”

“Put him up, Major,” Spencer commanded.

A moment later, the vidlink snapped on, the unsmiling face of David Cohen filling the screen. From Spencer’s perspective, it appeared that the colonel and his staff were in a conference room onboard the Lion. In addition to David, there were several others present, including a civilian that Spencer didn’t recognize. “Colonel, can you hear and see us?”

Through the link, David cracked a smile. “Yes, sir, we can see you. I’ve got a few people here with me, including my XO, Colonel Aibek, chief engineer Major Arthur Hanson, and Kenneth Lowe, who runs our contractor engineering support team.”

“Thank you for joining us, Colonel. We’ve received your reports, but I want to understand from you what exactly happened.”

“Sir, the League has a new type of mine. It's stealthy, undetectable in its inactive state, and we waltzed right into the middle of it. It’s a small miracle that our carriers didn’t get caught. Still, we took a lot of losses. However, I believe we still have an opportunity to win.”

Spencer’s eyebrows shot up. “Explain it to me, Colonel.”

“Simple, sir. If we can figure out a way to defeat the mines, we can catch Seville off guard. We’re still calculating how many League ships we took out, but my tactical officer believes we accounted for at least two hundred and fifty enemy ships destroyed or neutralized. That would give us a numerical advantage, not to mention the advantage of having the Leaguers relying on a new weapon that fails at exactly the right time. We could induce panic.”

Spencer glanced between MacIntosh and Dunleavy. “Do you have a new engagement plan?”

“No, sir. We’re working on the mine problem now, in addition to getting our ships repaired. Many of them, including the Lion, suffered serious damage.”

MacIntosh spoke up. “Colonel, what’s the plan for getting the fleet ready to fight? How long will it take?”

David nodded in the direction of Kenneth, who answered, “Sir, we’re making repairs now. Between the military engineers and my personnel, we’ll have everything that can be repaired done in forty-eight hours. It’s an all-hands-on-deck effort.”

“Why the focus on time?” Obe asked.

Dunleavy answered instead. “Because Colonel Cohen has seen the same intelligence reports we have. Seville will assuredly get more reinforcements in the next four days, which will reduce our advantage and make this fight far costlier. If we plan to strike again, we must do it before the next wave of ships arrive.”

“Exactly, Secretary Dunleavy. We’re on the clock,” David interjected.

“Colonel Cohen, you mentioned you don’t have a plan to reengage the League forces. When will you have a plan ready for us to review?” General Okafor, one of the senior general’s on the joint chiefs of staff, asked.

“General Okafor, my operational plan will be dictated by whatever means we devise to defeat the League mines. As of now, we don’t have a solution to that problem. Every tactical officer, technician, science officer, and engineering contractor we can spare in this fleet is reviewing the data we recorded during the engagement for a solution.”

“If there’s no plan, I must question the wisdom of keeping our fleet so close to major League force concentrations, Mr. President.”

“It would take days to get back to the nearest major shipyards, General Oakfor. Colonel Cohen is right; if we’re taking another bite at the apple, we do it now. If we take the time to have the fleet fall back and effect full repairs, we might never again get this opportunity,” Spencer replied. God, I hope I’m right. If I make the wrong choice here, the Terran Coalition will be screwed beyond all belief. We’d lose the war in one fell swoop.

“Exactly, sir,” David piped up. “The plan is simple; defeat the mines. Simple, but not an easy task. I propose we go to EMCON alpha and contact you all at a predetermined time tomorrow for an updated briefing on the situation.” EMCON referred to emissions control. Setting the fleet to EMCON alpha would disable all communications or electronic transmissions that could give away its location.

“Chief Minister, what are your thoughts?” Spencer asked Obe.

Obe was silent for a moment before raising his head. “Today has been a dark day. But I concur with Colonel Cohen’s assessment. To turn tail and slither away from the League now… no. We cannot. Regardless of the cost, we must press on and destroy the League installation and her fleet.”

“If we take another shot at Unity Station, and we’re wrong about whatever we come up with to defeat the mines, we might lose the entirety of the Terran Coalition and the Saurian Empire’s ships. As a professional military officer for nearly forty years, I can’t in any way endorse this course of action,” Okafor interjected with a raised voice.

“As you were, General,” Fernandez said with a firm voice of command. “Mr. President, what are your orders?”

I’m not sure why anyone would want this job. Because I had no idea how hard it was going to be. “Chief Minister, if you agree, I want the fleet to stay where it’s at, formulate a plan to defeat the League minefield, and check in with us tomorrow at 1600 hours. Do you concur?”

Obe nodded. “Absolutely.”

“Then that’s what we’re doing, General Fernandez.”

“Yes, sir. In that case, we’ll need to brevet Colonel Cohen to brigadier general for the duration of this mission. We don’t have a flag officer on site, and if Admiral Kartal felt he was the right man to lead the fleet, I have no objection.”

“I’m happy to approve, General,” Spencer replied.

“Very well sir. Colonel Cohen, consider yourself breveted to the rank of brigadier general until the fleet returns to Canaan. Formal orders will be transmitted to all ships in the fleet. Before we sign off, is there anything we can do for you?”

“Sirs,” Kenneth began. “I have a request, if I may.”

“Mr. Lowe, was it?” Spencer asked.

“Uh, yes, Mr. President.”

“Go ahead.”

“Well, sirs, I believe we have several mobile raider tenders within Lawrence drive range. I’d like to request they be tasked to jump in and help support the fleet. They’re the closest thing we have to a mobile shipyard.”

Spencer glanced quizzically at Fernandez. “Is that accurate?”

He, in turn, looked behind his chair to the row of colonels and majors sitting in the second-tier chairs. “Major Andrews, do you know what he’s talking about?”

“Yes, sir. He’s right; they’re parked in deep space. If we move them, we’ll disrupt logistical interdiction missions.”

“If they’ll help the fleet in its repairs, that is the paramount objective above all else. General, task them to support our fleet,” Spencer said.

“Aye aye, sir.”

“I think there’s only one thing left before we sign off. Ladies and gentlemen, would you join me in prayer?” Spencer said as he glanced around the room.

Spencer was a devout Christian, and he found himself on his knees daily, begging for God’s intercession on behalf of the entire Canaan Alliance. After he held his hands out, Obe and Dunleavy both took his hand in theirs, while they reached out their hands in turn. After a few seconds, the entire table was holding hands together. He bowed his head. “Lord, please hear our prayer. Today didn’t go the way we thought it would. I can’t know your plan or your will, but I beg you to guide us toward it. Please help us in our battle against the League of Sol. We can do all things through You, who strengthens us. Bless the men and women who go into battle, shield them and help them to defeat this foe. In Jesus name, we pray, amen.” God help us all.

There was a chorus of amens throughout the room and from those on the vidlink. “Godspeed, gentlemen. We’ll see you again tomorrow at 1600 CMT.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, Mr. President, and Godspeed to you too,” David replied.

The vidlink cut out, leaving the room very still. “Thank you for coming, everyone. I’m sure we all have jobs to do, so I’ll let you all get back to it,” Spencer said, standing from his chair. The rest of those assembled stood with him and began to walk toward the exits. Spencer looked toward Dunleavy. “What do you think our chances are, Colton?”

“If General Cohen and his team can figure out a way to defeat the mines, I think they’re even. If not, there’s not a snowball's chance in hell of cracking that nut. This is a game-changer, Mr. President. God help us all if they can make them in high enough quantities to seed the space around our main planets. We’d lose the war in a matter of weeks,” Dunleavy replied.

“Then General Cohen had better succeed,” Spencer stated with some level of false bravado. “Carry on, gentlemen.”

15

“Master Chief, where’s that network specialist?” Kenneth Lowe yelled out of an engineering tube on the CSV Juno, an Ajax class destroyer. He’d taken the last team out himself to help with repairs. It was everyone on deck for the push to repair the fleet.

“She’s on the way, sir,” Harold Billings called from outside the tube.

“I can’t remember how to recouple these relays back together.”

“Ah, for the days we did real work.”

“May they never be departed.”

Kenneth heard another voice, a female one outside of the tube. “Yolanda Cooper, network specialist. Did someone call a nerd?”

“I did indeed,” Kenneth shouted. “Remind me what the pattern for an RJ-813 connection on the tactical network is?”

“Orange, orange-white, green, blue, purple, purple-white, green-white, blue-white, brown, brown-white. Make sure that brown is properly seated… it's always the hardest to get in there.”

Kenneth quickly stripped the cable, slotted into the jack in the proper order, and used a crimping tool to lock it down. A moment later, he snapped the connector into the jack and was rewarded with a blinking green light. “Okay, we’ve got a good connection down here,” he called back.

“Look at that, a manager who can turn a wrench,” Billings yelled.

Kenneth began to scoot back down the tube; his extreme height of over two meters made it challenging to navigate anything on a ship, especially tight engineering spaces. Emerging from it to find Billings and Yolanda standing there waiting for him, he smiled and pulled himself upright once more.

“Thanks, guys. What’s next on our punch list?”

“That’ll be up on the bridge, sir; ensuring that all tactical network nodes are synched up and able to control the weapons,” Billings said.

“Sounds like we could use a network engineer on that one too. Care to follow along, Miss Cooper?”

“Of course, sir. I’m just happy being on a different ship. Getting to the bridge is a bonus,” Yolanda replied, beaming from ear to ear.

As she walked off toward the nearest gravlift, Kenneth glanced at Billings. “Excited, much?”

“Takes all kinds, sir.”

“That it does, Master Chief.” One problem down… three hundred more to go.

* * *

Walking into the shul on the Lion, David pulled his cover on; he didn’t have his yarmulke with him nor was there enough time to collect it from his cabin. However, he had to cover his head in the presence of God. There were more than a few of the ship’s assorted Jewish crewmembers present; as it was past the end of the day for most, and while everyone was pulling double shifts, it made sense that many would come to search God after the terrible events of the day. Rabbi Kravitz was speaking with a small group of crewmembers, behind which David waited patiently. After finishing, the old rabbi turned toward him.

“Colonel Cohen!” Kravitz exclaimed, then did a double take. “General?”

David shook his head in sadness. “Just a brevet rank. I’ve been ordered to take command of the fleet, in the absence of Admiral Kartal.”

“I see. It would make sense to promote you to avoid any squabbles. How’re you holding up?”

“Truthfully, Rabbi? I’m still shell-shocked,” David began, lowering his voice so that those around couldn’t hear him. “It will take some time to process this disaster. I wonder why God would allow this to happen to us.”

“If you ever figure that out, let me know, would you?” Kravitz replied with his trademark wry grin, but he was unable to keep up the brave front. “Truth be told, I thought for sure that today our prayers would be answered and we would smash the League once and for all, all the way back to Earth.”

“Same here, Rabbi. But it’s our job to soldier on, mine especially. I need your help…” David said.

“A funeral for the dead?”

“Yes, but given how many have died, I would like to represent all of our major faiths, including the secular humanists.”

“Of course, General. Any particular order to the service?”

David shook his head sadly. “No, just try to highlight some of the best among of us, those taken too soon. It’s the least we can do for them.”

Kravitz stared at him in a way that felt like he was looking into his soul. “You can’t take the blame of this onto yourself, David. Do the best you can, search for God, and keep the faith.”

“I’ll try, Rabbi, I’ll try.”

Kravitz nodded his understanding. “If I may, there are many more to minister to.”

“Of course, thank you, Rabbi,” David responded, stepping back and allowing Kravitz to move on. He tried to force himself to keep going, one foot in front of the other. David knew if he stopped to start thinking about the events of the day, he’d overthink it and have an emotional response. Of all the things I can afford today, emotions aren’t one of them. He turned and walked out of the shul.

* * *

Doctor Benjamin Hayworth leaned over the computer console he was working at and pressed a button to engage another simulation. He’d been at it for six hours already, with no positive results. The cheerful voice of Major Elizabeth Merriweather filtered through the noise in the room. “Doctor, how’s it going?”

Hayworth turned around in his chair to face her, wearing a total scowl. “It’s not going bloody well, Eliza. I haven’t yet been able to determine how to get our sensors to identify the mines before they go active. I wish I had a sample or two to experiment with.”

“I don’t see us getting a couple of deactivated League mines, Doctor,” Merriweather said with a bright smile. “How are you holding up?”

“Oh, about as well as I could on a ship full of theists that are beset by wondering why God didn’t help them win,” Hayworth replied, rolling his eyes at the same time. I do get tired of all the constant God this, God that. Isn’t one of the maxims of Christianity that God helps those who help themselves? Bah, children.

“You don’t have to keep up the constant wisecracks, you know.”

Hayworth grimaced slightly as he replied; he thought of Merriweather as the daughter he never had. “I’m sorry, my dear. I’m not at my best right now.”

Merriweather sat down on a chair at a vacant terminal. “One of my friends died in the outer hull…” she said, a tear forming in her eyes. “I saw her a couple of days ago.” Sadness broke through her cheerful exterior, and she started to cry.

Hayworth stood up and made his way across the room, wrapping his arms around her. “I’m sorry, dear. I’m very sorry. It’s just this damned war.”

“I thought we were going to end it finally, you know?”

“I did too. The damn Leaguers inventing something better than us… I didn’t see that coming.”

Merriweather used her uniform sleeve to wipe her tears. “Where are you stuck?”

Hayworth gestured to his console. “The problem is that in reviewing our sensor logs, without the mines active, there’s nothing to target, and we have limited information about where the minefield is. The stealth plating is fiendishly clever; it doesn’t allow our targeting scanners to lock on. The scanning systems we use to do real science can see them, but those sensors aren’t integrated into our fire control systems. I spoke to one of the contractors about linking them and was told that’s impossible without an overhaul and extensive testing.”

“I wonder if there’s a way to jam the mines… to prevent them from being put into active mode?” Merriweather asked.

“You’re thinking a broad-spectrum jamming field?”

“Yes… the Marines use those on planetside ops to protect against enemy-guided munitions. No different here.”

Hayworth shook his head. “Not a bad idea, but the power output required for it would be incredible.”

“Well, we’re on the only ship in the fleet with a working anti-matter reactor…”

“I’ll run some simulations,” Hayworth replied with a chuckle.

“The funeral service for those lost is going to begin soon. Why don’t you set this aside and join me?” Merriweather asked him.

“It’s not my cup of tea, dear. I respect your views, but I have no place there.”

“General Cohen has invited a secular humanist to speak… so that’s not a valid excuse, Doctor.”

A bit refreshing of him. “Well, if it’s important to you—"

“Yes, it is,” she said pointedly.

“Then I’ll be there. Run along and let me get these simulations going.”

“Thank you, Doctor.”

“Of course, dear,” Hayworth replied with a genuine smile on his face.

16

The memorial service took two hours to conclude, with sermons from all of the Lion of Judah’s chaplains, including the Secular Humanist representative. David had participated stoically, doing his duty as the fleet commander. Still, less than three months after the funeral for Sheila, he found it difficult to focus. Questions as to why roared through his head, and he couldn’t set them aside.

Comments from Major Mahmoud Karim, the Imam assigned to the Lion, brought some things into stark perspective to him. Even after the services ended, David heard his comments about how God would judge every living being after death, ring in his mind. Leave it to the Imam to boil the matter down to its most straightforward perspective. And so, he grieved for those lost and his friends throughout the war that had laid down their lives. Then he tried to get on with his day, and more importantly, his duties.

By evening, David found himself in a horrible place mentally. It was hard enough during the service, around thousands of other people where he had to show strength and display the confidence expected of someone in command. Now, in his quarters at 2300 hours, his real emotions surged to the surface. The specter of doubt and incompetence roared into his mind like a demon. I caused this. I let it all happen by not seeing through the League tricks sooner, one side of his mind said. Stop whining! It wasn’t your fault. They fooled everyone in the fleet, the other side of his brain replied.

Lost in depression, despondency, and general despair, he decided to make his way to the shul, in hopes that bearing his soul before the Lord would offer some comfort. At the late hour, there were very few crewmembers in the passageways of the Lion of Judah as he walked through them. Cold comfort that at least he didn’t have to face the people he felt he’d let down somehow. Walking into the synagogue, he removed his tallit gadol out of the simple cloth carrying bag his mother had given him at his bar mitzvah. One of his most prized possessions, he wore it every time he entered the shul.

There was no one present at this late hour, not even Rabbi Kravitz. David was thankful for the quiet, as he merely hoped to worship and commune with God in peace. Sitting down in the front row, he clasped his hands together and began to rock, as all Orthodox Jews did as they prayed. “Oh Lord, God of the universe, Creator of all things, hear my prayer, I beg You,” David began, speaking in Hebrew.

“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. “General? 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.

Detached from Space Special Warfare Command, there were four commando teams assigned to the Lion, for a total of twenty-four tier one operators.

The command staff was operating on limited sleep, as was almost everyone else on the ship. David could see dark circles under the eyes of all those in attendance, and he knew from his interactions they were all on edge and stressed out. Everyone stood and came to attention as he entered the room, except for Doctor Hayworth. “As you were!”

As everyone returned to their seats, David took his regular chair at the head of the table. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you all for joining me. Everything else on our agenda today is secondary to the first topic of discussion. Can we successfully engage the League’s mines?”

Ruth and Hanson exchanged an uncomfortable glance, but Ruth spoke first. “Sir, at this point, we’ve been unable to determine how to target the stealth mines with our point defense systems either in automated or manual mode. The problem is they are only visible to our sensors when activated, and when they’re activated, it's already too late.”

A frown creased David’s face. “I see. What about other countermeasures?”

Hayworth took the opportunity to interject, “Actually, Lieutenant Goldberg, that’s not correct. Your targeting sensors can’t detect the mines before they go active. Our scientific scanners, on the other hand, can.”

Ruth looked over at Hayworth. “Doctor, that doesn’t do us any good because those two systems aren’t integrated. I’ve already talked to Mr. Lowe about the possibility of linking the scientific sensor suite into our fire control systems, and we don’t believe it’s possible.”

All eyes turned to Kenneth as David followed up, “Is that correct, Mr. Lowe?”

Kenneth nodded. “Yes, sir, I’m afraid we just don’t have the time, manpower, or proper expertise for that kind of a radical redesign of the Lion’s systems.”

David looked around the room. “I refuse to accept that this problem doesn’t have a solution.”

Calvin leaned forward on his chair. “Well, sir, leave it to a Marine to find the solution for you. Might not be the one you were thinking of… but we’ll find one,” he said in his normal cocky tone.

“I’m all ears, Colonel,” David replied.

“Working with the sensor logs the fleet compiled, some of the electronics specialists determined the mines have a control system. There’s a central point that controls when they turn active.”

“And?”

“We’ve identified that point as one of the pylons on this League station. They have a large network of antennae and comms gear. We’re not sure what the space is, but our scans show it’s some kind of control room,” Calvin stated proudly. “Bottom line is Captain Singh and I believe that our commandos can affect a surgical strike.”

David exchanged a glance with Aibek, who was nodding his approval. “Very bold, Colonel Demood. And how do we deliver those men to the target without the League seeing them coming?” David asked.

“We can use a stealth raider to get close, coat the sleds and spacesuits of the commandos in the same material. I already talked to our resident civilian contractor, and he says we can do it.”

Well, that’s quite inventive…got to hand it to Calvin. “Sounds doable. Thoughts, people?”

Ruth interrupted, “Colonel, it’s a great idea except for one thing. We’ve got no idea what the detection abilities of those mines are. If one goes off, the entire commando unit’s dead. Even if they aren’t killed instantly, the radiation will kill everyone in a couple of hours.”

“You got a better idea, fleet?” Calvin shot back.

Ruth’s face turned red, but before she could verbally shoot back, David cleared his throat loudly. “Enough. The enemy is outside. Not in here. Colonel, your plan has merit. But it’s high risk. Before I approve it, the risk will need to be mitigated.”

“The powered combat armor the commandos wear has its own integrated command and control system,” Hayworth stated. “Clearly what’s needed is to interface a sensor capable of detecting the mines into them, so the team can avoid setting off any mines.”

“We can’t even interface those sensors into our ship, Doctor. How the heck are we going to interface them into one of the suits?” Calvin replied, the tenor of his voice indicating annoyance.

“Oh, I don’t know. You’ve got one of the smartest minds in the Terran Coalition in the room. It’s either that or you could all go pray.”

David openly rolled his eyes and fought down the impulse to order Hayworth out of the room at that moment. “Doctor, I don’t care how smart you think you are. Do you have a solution to our problem? If you do, speak up. Otherwise, stow it or get out.”

For a second, David thought Hayworth was going to storm out, but he saw Merriweather put her hand on his knee and shake her head.

Hayworth cleared his throat. “We need to interface an advanced artificial intelligence into the suit and use it to build the interface.”

“Artificial intelligence is banned by the Terran Coalition except in the most limited of applications, Doctor. You know it would take years to get this approved,” Hanson said.

Glancing between the two of them, David found despair building in his soul again. He forced it back down and made eye contact with Hayworth as he spoke. “I’m guessing the good doctor has a solution or he wouldn’t have brought it up, Major.” Smiling thinly at Hayworth, he continued, “Please tell me I’m right.”

“You are, General Cohen.” Hayworth offered a condescending smile in return. “We already have the AI on the ship. Our Hunter missiles.” Pausing for effect, Hayworth waited until all eyes were on him. “The solution is simple. We unlock the AI on a Hunter missile, reconfigure it for our needs, copy it twenty-three times, and run simulations to make sure everything works. Then Captain Singh’s team can do what it does best… kill Leaguers.”

“And you can do all of that, Doctor?” David asked.

“Some of it. We’ll need a gold level authorization code to unlock the AI, which I believe you have now as a consequence of your shiny new rank. We’ll also need a software developer with a background in AI. I can work with that individual to link the scientific sensors into the AI.”

“And just where are we going to get a software developer from out here? The nerd mart?” Calvin asked caustically.

“Actually,” Kenneth said, and David looked at him sharply as he spoke. “I’ve got several senior grade developers onboard… and one specializes in AI. She’s been installing the upgrades to the Hunter missiles.”

“I guess I ought to read those weekly status reports more carefully,” Hanson said with a light lilt to his voice.

Almost instantly, the mood in the room began to change. Those assembled sat up straighter, smiles broke out on their faces, and for the first time in forty-eight hours, David thought they had the beginnings of a plan.

“Why can’t we just adapt the Hunter AI to work on the Lion? It would be less risky for the commando team,” Ruth interjected.

“We’re not marrying up an AI to the Lion’s computer core,” David replied. “Not only is that a crime that carries a twenty-year prison sentence, the last time we had an AI almost get loose in the wild, it was a disaster. Everyone knows that.”

“We could shackle it, sir.”

“No. The risk is too great. We’ll proceed with integrating with the suit computers. They’re not powerful enough to allow the AI room to grow or evolve.”

“There are times that the will of Allah comes into focus,” Amir said from his seat toward the end of the table. “This is a fortuitous turn of events.”

“Allah had nothing to do with it,” Hayworth snapped. “I already had all this information before I walked in here. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have suggested a plan I knew wouldn’t work.”

Before the two of them could get into a debate, which had happened too many times to count, David cleared his throat loudly. “Doctor Hayworth, take point on the project. I want hourly updates, and you have a deadline of eighteen hours to produce a working prototype. Are we clear?”

“Yes, General,” Hayworth replied, leaving off the snark.

“Very well. Dismissed. Captain Singh, please stay behind for a moment. I want a private word with you.”

The rest of those in the conference room dutifully filed out, leaving David and Singh alone. An imposing figure, Rajneesh Singh stood just a tad under two meters and had a colorful addition to the usual CDF duty uniform; a curved sword that hung from his belt. “What can I do for you, General?” Singh asked.

“Captain, this is an extremely high-risk assignment. I’m unwilling to order you to do it,” David replied earnestly.

“Let me allay your concern, General. I volunteered, as I’m certain my entire team will volunteer if given the opportunity.”

“You realize it could be a one-way trip with unproven technology?”

“Yes, sir. If there’s a chance to strike a blow on the League, a blow so mighty as to dislodge them from this fortress where they’ve rained destruction on us for nearly thirty years, then it's worth my life, and those of my team to strike that blow. What will happen is the will of Ik Onkar.”

David raised an eyebrow. “Ik Onkar?”

Singh smiled. “Our word for God.”

“I see. I thought that you were—”

“Muslim?” Singh continued to smile. “We still get that a lot. I’m a Sikh.”

David grinned sheepishly. “Well, I have nothing to do for myself but look silly, Captain Singh.”

Singh laughed and extended his hand. “Call me Raj. My full first name is Rajneesh, but it always gets shortened, and I’ve grown to like it.”

David took the outstretched head and shook it warmly. “David.”

“You might be interested to know that my last name, Singh, translates to ‘Lion.’ I found it quite ironic when I was posted to the Lion of Judah.”

“Perhaps God does work in mysterious ways,” David replied, still wearing the same sheepish grin. He felt terrible for disrespecting the man’s beliefs, even though it was unintended.

“One of the tenets of my faith is we do not believe there to be one absolute truth. So it’s entirely possible from my perspective.” Singh paused for a moment. “General, you must not hesitate to strike the hardest blow we can against the League. I’ve seen what it looks like after they’ve taken over a planet and forced its people into reeducation, as they call it. What remains are mere shells of what was formerly a robust population and people. No matter what it takes, we must win here.”

“We’ll do our best… and the League will do its worst,” David said, shaking his head. “Someday, we won’t have to get up every morning and plan how we’re going to kill people. Someday.”

“And on that day, I will celebrate, as will everyone in the Terran Coalition. But it’s not today. Today we must fight, we must fight with everything we have in us, with every ounce of courage and bravery. For if we do not win today, I fear there won’t be many more tomorrows.”

“I don’t disagree. Plan the best op you can, Captain. Godspeed.”

“Godspeed to you as well, General,” Singh said as he braced to attention before walking out of the conference room.

David sat there for a few minutes, reflecting on the battle that lay before them. All of it rested on the ability of Doctor Hayworth to make his technological solution work. He quietly prayed that the doctor would be up to the challenge.

* * *

Standing in his quarters, Admiral Seville squeezed the glass of brandy he was holding such that his hand hurt. Damn the Social and Public Safety Committee, damn them all! I delivered a victory, and now after all the blood that’s been spilled, they want to give it away to those damn fanatics. Downing the rest of the brown drink, he flung the glass across the room. It bounced off a wall, undamaged thanks to being a nearly unbreakable polymer. The doorbell to his quarters went off, and he angrily shouted, “Who is it?”

“Colonel Strappi, sir.”

“Come in.”

The door slid open, and Strappi strode in with purpose. “It’s time, Admiral.”

Seville shook his head angrily. “I should not have to beg the Social and Public Safety Committee to listen to me on this matter. I have successfully led this war! We just wiped out a fifth of the Canaan Alliance’s fleet.”

“Admiral, while I, of course, completely agree with you, you must realize the committee wants to see more losses inflicted on our foe. They want to erase the specter of defeat that has haunted us so closely these last months.”

“If they wanted to win, they’d send me the reinforcements I’ve asked for,” Seville replied.

“I cannot speculate except to say the committee believes those forces are needed elsewhere.”

“Yes, it’s our great affliction. Our territory is so vast, our massive fleet is needed in twenty places at once to secure it,” Seville spat, pausing for just a moment to collect his thoughts. “Is it time, Colonel?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then bring up the video link.”

In the few seconds it took Strappi to engage the real-time communications link back to Earth, Seville marveled at the incredible amount of resources that were going into this holocall. They were so far away from Earth that, on both ends, almost the entire power output of two large fusion reactors had to be used to power the link. After a moment, the holoprojector engaged, and they were suddenly in the meeting room of the State Security Committee. Seville bowed his head respectfully, as did Strappi.

“Mister Chairman, it is, as always, an honor to speak with you and the rest of your esteemed colleagues,” Seville said, with every fiber of his being seething inside.

“Admiral, thank you for taking time for this meeting from your assuredly full schedule as you seek to track down and eliminate the Terran Coalition’s military, once and for all,” Pallis said.

“Anything I can to help further the cause of our League is in no way a burden, Chairman Pallis,” Seville replied.

“Well then, Admiral, since time is at a premium, especially with the cost associated with this link, let’s get down to the matter at hand. What is your plan to finish off the Terran Coalition and Saurian Empire’s combined fleet? We understand from your reports it still exists, despite significant losses.”

“Chairman, right now, we occupy a position of strength. While weakened, the enemy fleet is still a formidable opponent.”

Several of the members of the committee looked at each other; one wearing the uniform of the League Navy spoke up. “Admiral, you have them at your mercy. Do you have a firm location on the Terran and Saurian fleets?”

“No, sir, I don’t. I’ve been holding my ships in closely, rather than send them out to search. I believe our foe intends to attack us again, and I want all of my strength in one place so that we might grind them into dust.”

Pallis shook his head. “Admiral, the committee does not believe this is the wisest course of action.”

Seville interrupted the chairman before he could begin to speak again. “Chairman, while I understand the desire and the very need to destroy our hated enemy, we must realize that for the last three months, they’ve won battle after battle. Now we have a weapon they can’t match. Prudence dictates we allow them to come to us yet again, and then we can strike the final blow. I’m certain of this strategy, more certain than I’ve been of any yet devised.”

“I’ve heard this before. You said it before we tried to bomb Canaan from orbit four months ago. We all know it turned into an unmitigated disaster that brought the Saurians into the war on the side of the Terran Coalition,” the same admiral fumed.

“We’ve succeeded today, Admiral. Let us not dwell on the events of the past. We must focus on destroying the Terran Coalition and her allies. Chairman, please give us a few more days. The Terrans aren’t going anywhere. They haven’t even broken radio silence for one of their news broadcasts. They’re hurting, but they’re planning something. I feel it in my bones. Dividing our forces now is exactly what they want us to do,” Seville said.

“Admiral Seville, you’ve earned my indulgence and by extension the indulgence of this committee. Don’t squander it. When we speak again, I want a concrete plan of action to destroy the remaining Terran Coalition forces,” Pallis replied.

“Yes, sir, I understand.”

“Very well, Admiral. We’ll speak again soon.”

As soon as Pallis finished speaking, the feed cut out, returning Seville’s quarters to its usual drab interior.

“Idiots!” Seville screamed at the top of his lungs. “They can’t run a war from thousands of lightyears away by committee!”

“Admiral,” Strappi said, trying to soothe the man. “Please, we must remain calm. The Social and Public Safety Committee is the embodiment of the will of the people, and the knowledge of the state. It can’t be wrong.”

“Oh, you’re a worthless fool,” Seville raged in return. “You believe that? If you do, try breathing in space without a spacesuit!”

“You can’t say such things, Admiral! Even if they are true,” Strappi replied, glancing around the room as if they were being monitored in some fashion.

“We have fought for nearly thirty years to liberate the Terrans. We’ve spilled the blood of so many sailors, it’s a mere statistic now that’s too large to conceive of,” Seville said, beginning to calm down. “I will not allow our success now to be thrown into jeopardy because some old men back on Earth want a quick win!”

“You need a convincing plan, Admiral,” Strappi said quietly.

“The plan is to wait for the Terrans to attack again,” Seville insisted. “They’re feeling us out now, they’ll come back, and we’ll crush them.”

“That’s not good enough for the Social and Public Safety Committee. You have to dress it up.”

Seville rolled his eyes. “I don’t have time for this crap.”

“I’ll handle it for you, Admiral.”

“Thank you, Colonel Strappi.”

“Of course, sir. Should I leave you?”

“Yes. I need some time alone to consider how we can draw out the Terrans and inflict a final, crushing blow.”

“Yes, sir,” Strappi said, standing and walking out of the room. Seville watched the hatch close and went back to his brooding thoughts. Once the minefield is fully reseeded, any attack they make will be futile. We need to tempt them into attacking us once more.

19

Three hundred lightyears away from the Lion and the rest of the joint fleet, the CSV Oxford and her merry band of intelligence analysts, led by Colonel Robert Sinclair, continued with their essential work. Striding onto the central operations center floor, with a mug of tea fitted with a spill-proof cover, Sinclair surveyed the team hard at work. He glanced up at the motto of the CDF Intelligence service, “In God we trust, all others we monitor,” which hung proudly from a banner in the ceiling of the cavernous room. Recent reports indicated that the fleet had taken a severe beating at Unity Station, but actual details were scant. First Lieutenant Alon Tamir motioned him over to his workstation with a wave.

“Colonel, do you have a minute, sir?” Tamir asked.

Sinclair slid into an empty chair next to Tamir’s station. “What do you have for me, Lieutenant?”

“We’ve been picking up a ton of League chatter coming into and out of Unity Station, sir. Making heads or tails of it has been difficult with that new encryption protocol they’ve been using.”

Sinclair nodded. The League sure had picked the wrong time to start getting some basic technologies right. “Tell me something I don’t already know,” he remarked in his perfectly British-accented voice.

“The energy associated with some of these transmissions is off the charts. There were at least two communications with Earth that contained real-time video links,” Tamir said, pride imbuing his voice.

Sinclair’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you sure?”

Tamir nodded, tapping some keys on his station and pulling up a chart. “See here, sir? As I said, the power output is off the chart. The only thing it could be is direct video link back to Earth or an equidistant point in space. Earth is the most likely target, especially combined with the vector the signal was going out toward.”

“Conclusions, then?”

“I believe that Admiral Seville was having a direct conversation with someone very high up in the League. Most likely the Social and Public Safety Committee.”

“No decryption of the conversation yet?”

“No, sir, and we won’t have it for several days. I do, though, have decryptions of some loose discussions between League ship captains in the fleet assigned to Unity Station. They constantly make reference to Seville wanting to keep them tied to the station. A group of them wants to hunt for us. This is a guess, which fits the facts, but is still only a guess… I think the Social and Public Safety Committee wants Seville to send out the dogs. Seville rightly believes he’s strongest at Unity Station and is daring us to take another shot at him.”

Sinclair found himself nodding again; Tamir’s conclusions, while taking several steps beyond what they had evidence for, were logical. More than that, over the time they’d served together, Tamir had rarely been wrong. He’d grown to trust him and the at times unique insights he saw in masses of raw intelligence data. “How many more ships has Seville gotten?”

Tamir shook his head. “He hasn’t made up for the ones we destroyed, but he’s received at least a hundred and fifty as reinforcements. Even without the mines, I don’t see how the forces we have are going to be able to win with anything like acceptable losses.”

“We need to get this information to Colonel Cohen. Can you patch us in from here?”

“Yes, sir,” Tamir answered; every station in the operations center had comms capabilities. He tapped a few keys, and they waited. “I’m not getting a response from the Lion, sir.”

“Most likely because they’re at EMCON,” Sinclair said, answering the unspoken question. “And they’re not going to break it, no matter what our message is. What rally point did they transit to?”

“Bravo, sir. The entire fleet is at rally point bravo.”

“Then that’s where we’re going. Keep working on the decryption, Lieutenant. I’ll be on the bridge getting this tub’s location changed.”

“Aye aye, sir!” Tamir replied crisply.

* * *

The most senior officers on the Lion, including Aibek, Amir, Calvin, and David, had assembled for a video link back to Canaan. Colonel Ronald Meier and Lieutenant Robert Taylor, in his capacity as David’s flag staff, were also in attendance. The purpose was to brief General MacIntosh on their progress.

David apprehensively looked across the room. While the team had a good plan, he was determined to request reinforcements and try to obtain replacement fighters, bombers, and Marines. “Lieutenant,” he began, addressing Taylor. “For this meeting only, we’ll drop our EMCON status. Punch up General MacIntosh, please.”

“Aye aye, sir,” Taylor replied crisply, pulling up what amounted to a galaxy-wide version of an old-school video conference, and engaging the link.

After a moment, General MacIntosh’s face appeared; it looked from the background to David like the general was in his office.

“Greetings, gentlemen,” MacIntosh began without preamble.

“Good morning, sir,” David replied. “We’ve got an update for you on our progress.”

“Very good. Time is a commodity we don’t have a lot of, so let’s get started.”

“Yes, sir. Our team has been working around the clock on this problem. Bottom line up front is we believe the solution is to use our commando unit to storm the League space station and disable the mines at their place of control.”

MacIntosh stared intently at them through the screen. “Sounds extremely high risk, General. Walk me through it.”

“The plan, sir, is they will breach the control room for the mines, which we have pinpointed with a high degree of accuracy, and use a high energy communication burst to contact us… then the fleet will begin its assault.”

“How many combat-effective ships do you have, General?” MacIntosh asked.

“Over ninety percent of them, sir. We continue to suffer from shortages of pilots, small craft, and Marines. I’m hopeful you can divert some to us to plus up our ranks.”

MacIntosh shook his head. “President Spencer and Chief Minister Obe have been convinced by the heads of their various militaries that we can’t afford to send reinforcements. This happens with what you’ve got or not at all. I’ll transmit our latest and greatest intelligence reports, but one fact concerns me. Seville’s gotten nearly two hundred more ships since the battle. Can you take that kind of force on, even without the mines in play?”

David’s face became ashen as he ran the numbers in his mind. “Sir, the rate of loss would be unacceptable. We’d be on almost equal terms again. Can we go to President Spencer together and argue for the home defense fleet to be sent?”

“Absolutely not, General Cohen,” MacIntosh replied with a tone of finality.

“Sir—”

“It's not happening. The home defense fleet is the only thing standing between an invasion of Canaan and the League if you fail. Politically, it’d be suicide for the president. The press would have a field day. It's out of the question, General,” MacIntosh said in a heated tone.

David furrowed his brow and nodded in return. “I understand, sir. What about fighter pilots and Marines? We don’t have enough to storm Unity Station, especially on the Marine side.”

“At the rate of reinforcement that Seville is getting, there’s not enough time for us to get more pilots, small craft, and Marines to you. What you’ve got is all you’ll get, General. Look, I know it’s a lot of pressure. If we can’t win now, there’s nothing wrong with telling me that. We’ll pull back and try again later. They can’t move the damn station on us.”

There won’t be a later. At the rate Seville gets new ships, he’ll overwhelm us within a year. “No, sir, we’ll figure it out.”

“I must caution you again, General. We’re running out of time.”

“Yes, sir. We have a scheduled briefing in six hours to the Joint Chiefs of Staff and our two leaders. We’ll be ready.”

“See you are. I’ll warn you right now, there’s a faction in the Joint Chiefs that want to call this off, pull the fleet back, and lick our wounds. I agree with you, the time to strike is right now, and it’ll never be better. Whatever you put together, make sure it can survive having a lot of people trying to poke holes in it. Most of it all, make sure it’ll work to the best of your abilities, General.”

“Aye aye, sir,” David replied crisply.

“Godspeed, General, MacIntosh out.”

A moment later, MacIntosh’s face disappeared from the viewer, and they were all left in silence. Aibek spoke first. “General, perhaps I could convince Saurian high command to send additional resources...”

“No. MacIntosh is right. If we can’t win with what we’ve got, we’d endanger our entire civilization by pulling out our last defensive forces. What sucks about this is it’s a simple math problem. Our resources are finite, his aren’t, and there’s a curve going here that I don’t like. Before too long, he’ll be unstoppable if left to gather strength.” David glanced at the clock on the wall and shook his head. “We’d better get back to it, gentlemen. Colonel Meier, thank you for coming over. Please brief the fleet on our progress, and I’d appreciate it if you could stick around. I’d like you in on our planning meeting later today.”

Calvin cleared his throat. “General, if I may… we need to get additional trigger pullers or we’re not storming Unity.”

“Any thoughts on where we’d get them from?”

“Well, sir, I’d like to ask for volunteers. Lots of ship’s security personnel in the fleet, and there’s more than a few former Marines who’ve transferred to the fleet.”

David nodded his approval. “I like that idea. You may proceed.”

“Thank you, sir,” Calvin replied.

“Any saved rounds, gents?” David asked the room at large; there were no takers. “Alright then, dismissed.” As he stood, so did the rest of those assembled. Walking out of the conference room, he found Calvin right behind him and walking with purpose.

“Mind if I accompany you to the bridge, General?”

“Not in the least,” David replied, though his eyebrow was raised. Calvin typically didn’t go to the bridge unless asked.

“I’d like to use the 1MC to request volunteers.”

“Ah, of course. That would be the best way to reach everyone at the same time.”

Walking together to the nearest gravlift, David tried to engage in a conversation. “How are you holding up?”

“I’ll be fine, sir,” Calvin replied as the doors for the lift slid open.

“Deck one,” David said after they entered the lift and stood back from the doors. “That’s not an answer, Cal.”

Calvin sighed. “I don’t like talking about it. But if you must know, that was the single greatest loss of life under my command I’ve ever endured.”

“I know how it feels,” David began, looking over at him. “It doesn’t get easier.”

“But it gets numb, you know? The daily loss of a life here, a life there. We learn to get over it. It stops affecting us.”

I envy that…it never stopped affecting me. “We have to soldier on,” David replied. “We’re close, Cal. I know we are. This time, we’re taking the station.”

“A lot of Marines are going to die storming that place,” Calvin said with a tinge of regret in his voice.

“A lot of us are going to die, period. But far more will die if we don’t succeed. Right?”

“Damn right, General,” Calvin retorted, and just for a moment, the cocky Marine was back. “We’ll make as many of them die for their country as possible before we start dying for ours.”

David slapped Calvin on the back. “Exactly.” The lift came to a halt, and the doors slid open.

As they walked quickly down the passageway toward the bridge, the two Marines who guarded the door came to attention and saluted; both David and Calvin returned their salutes upon pulling on their covers.

David gestured to the communications station. “Proceed, Colonel.”

“Aye aye, sir!”

David addressed the relief communications officer. “Lieutenant, please patch Colonel Demood into 1MC.”

“Aye aye, sir!” was the prompt reply from the young woman.

Calvin took up position behind the communications station and spoke into the provided microphone. “Attention, all hands, this is Colonel Demood, Terran Coalition Marine Corps. As you may know, the Marines took a lot of casualties in the first attack on Unity Station. As we prepare to assault it again, General Cohen and I have realized our Marine contingent lacks the numbers to have a realistic chance of success. So I come to the men and women of the Lion of Judah, and I challenge anyone who has the courage to put their life on the line to report to cargo bay two at sixteen hundred hours shipboard time today. Regardless of your occupation, rank, or even if you’re a civilian, as long as you’re willing to stand and fight and can operate a standard battle rifle, you won’t be turned away. Do not think this will be easy. Many of us who assault this installation won’t come home, but it’s essential to the success of our mission for us to capture the station. Carry on, Demood out.”

After he finished speaking, Calvin stepped back from the communications station and turned to face David. “Thank you, sir. I hope we’ll have enough volunteers.”

David nodded. “Something tells me, Colonel, there’s no shortage of people on this ship that want a piece of the League, and out of all of the ships in our fleet, we’re uniquely overstaffed, so we can contribute additional personnel.”

“Permission to depart the bridge, sir?”

“Granted, Colonel,” David responded.

Calvin braced to attention before turning on his heel and departing.

David turned toward at the CO’s chair and saw Aibek held the conn. “XO, this is CO. I have the conn,” he invoked formally, walking over to his chair.

“Aye, sir, Colonel Cohen has the conn.” Aibek stood and moved one chair over.

David grinned as he sat down. “Anything to report, XO?”

“We’re doing excellent on the repairs. Ninety-two percent of our ships are now as combat capable as the engineering teams, and contractors feel they can be without drydock time.”

We’re getting there. It’s not perfect, and it won’t be easy, but we’re getting there. Settling back into his seat, he girded himself for the next two hours of watch standing before the next major meeting they had to discuss how to deal with the League’s reinforcements.

20

Three hours later, David was still standing watch on the bridge, watching the various damage reports come in and checking damaged ships off his list as the contractors and engineering staff completed all repairs that they could accomplish in space. Bringing in the Raider tenders had been an inspired idea after all. While it might hurt their ability to take out League resupply freighters, the ships had spare parts and engineering teams that were vital to their efforts. Even better, the tenders had the ability to manufacture parts and entire fighters. This allowed for the repair of large amounts of fighters and bombers that would have otherwise been unusable. So many small craft were now operational, they couldn’t find enough pilots to man them all.

Good problems to have, especially right now. This crazy plan might come together if we could figure out how to overcome Seville’s fleet or get it to move away from the station.

David’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Ruth’s voice. “Conn, TAO!” she shouted. “Wormhole forming, thirty thousand kilometers off the starboard bow!”

Immediately on task, David instinctively sat up straighter in his chair. “TAO, set condition one throughout the ship!”

Per the normal combat evolution, the lights on the bridge immediately dimmed to a dark blue hue, while Ruth continued to report. “Conn, TAO! Condition one set throughout the ship! Sir, wormhole signature confirmed as CDF. New contact, designated as Sierra One… CSV Oxford, sir!”

Aibek exchanged a double-take with David. “What in blazes is the Oxford doing here, sir? She’s a deep space spy ship,” Aibek said.

David smirked. “What in the blazes? Your attempts at sounding more human…”

“Are lacking?”

“Well, unless you’re trying to sound like someone from a holomovie of the late twenty-second century.”

Aibek grinned in the toothy Saurian way. “I’ll try harder.”

David laughed. “I suppose we should find out why they’re here. Communications, signal the Oxford on a tight beam transmission. No leakage.”

“Aye aye, sir!” Taylor replied, and a few moments passed. “Sir, I have Colonel Sinclair for you.”

The monitor above David’s head snapped to life with an image of Sinclair standing in the operations center onboard the Oxford. “General, eh, Cohen? Good to see you again.”

“I wish it was under better circumstances, Colonel Sinclair. What can I do for you? We’re surprised to see you off station.”

“You haven’t been responding to communications attempts. When we contacted CDF command, they informed us you’d gone into EMCON status. So I decided to come to you. We have vital information you need to hear. Permission to come aboard with one of my analysts?”

David glanced at Aibek, taking in his puzzled expression, before turning back to Sinclair’s image on the monitor. “Granted. I’ll get my senior staff together, and we’ll meet in the briefing room as soon as you dock.”

“Excellent, Colonel. We’ll see you in fifteen minutes.”

The screen blinked off, leaving the bridge in silence. David looked to Aibek. “XO, you’re with me. We’ll meet our guests in the deck one conference room.”

“Yes, sir, this should be interesting if for no other reason than to be in the same room as one of your famed intelligence officers,” Aibek replied with a goofy grin.

“Lieutenant Goldberg, you have the conn,” David announced as he stood up from the CO’s chair.

Ruth jumped up from her station and turned to face David. “Aye aye, sir, I have the conn.”

David walked out of the bridge, followed closely by Aibek; he pulled off his cover as he exited the bridge and held it in his hand as they walked the few dozen feet to the conference room just off the passageway from the bridge.

They sat in silence, David lost in his thoughts and again going over the previous battle. His introspection ended when the large frame of a CDF officer walked through the hatch.

The man brought himself to attention. “Colonel Robert Sinclair reports as ordered, sir.”

David quickly stood, as did Aibek. Another young officer walked in behind Sinclair, and he also came to attention. “At ease, gentlemen,” David called out as he walked around the table and extended his hand to Sinclair. “It's nice to finally meet you in the flesh, Colonel Sinclair.”

Sinclair took David’s outstretched hand and gave it a warm shake. “You as well, General. I must say, this ship is… very impressive. I didn’t realize how big it was until it took me ten minutes to walk from the airlock to the gravlift. Allow me to introduce First Lieutenant Alon Tamir.” He gestured toward a younger man who’d walked through the hatch behind him.

“Pleasure to meet you as well, Lieutenant,” David responded, extending his hand to Tamir, who shook it while looking somewhat out of place and shy.

“Please, have a seat. Do either of you need anything in the way of refreshments?”

“No, sir. We had lunch just an hour ago,” Sinclair answered, his eagerness to get going showing on his face.

David and Aibek sat down at the same time as the two intelligence officers, sliding their chairs back up to the table. Staring intently at Sinclair, David began to speak. “Okay, you’ve got our attention, Colonel. What’s going on?”

Sinclair turned his head toward Tamir. “Lieutenant, your find. You get to brief it.”

Tamir visibly gulped, his face turning a touch red.

Watching him, David suppressed a smile. Oh, all those years ago when I was a First Lieutenant. A lifetime ago, he mused to himself.

Tamir stood and faced the rest of the officers. “Sirs, to begin, we deployed stealth drones throughout the battlespace before the engagement between the Alliance fleet and the League. While our drones didn’t detect the mines, they did a fine job of finding enemy ships. In short, Admiral Seville has received nearly two hundred additional ships in reinforcements in the last twenty-four hours. He has over seven hundred vessels at his disposal currently, and we expect to see more arriving within the next three days.”

“I believe the proper human expression is ‘oh shit,’” Aibek interjected, causing laughter to break out in the conference room; even Tamir broke into a smile despite his nervousness.

“That’s the understatement of the century, XO,” David responded with a grin. “Lieutenant, please continue.”

“This next bit is an educated guess, sirs,” Tamir said. “We can break any League code, but some are a lot harder than others for our quantum computers to brute-force the decryption. Typically, the League will use lower levels of encryption on ship-to-ship comms traffic, and save the best they have on what we would call gold-level communications.”

“In other words, the important stuff between senior commanders?”

“Exactly, General,” Tamir replied, beginning to loosen up some. “We caught several that had an immense level of power attached to them. Enough to transmit back to Earth for real-time communications.”

Aibek raised a scale over his eye. “You think they were communicating with League senior command?”

“Actually, sir, I think they were talking with the Social and Public Safety Committee. We intercepted chatter amongst the larger ships in the League fleet talking about wanting to find us and kick our butts. There were references to Admiral Seville not wanting to risk it, and those captains were upset. They got a taste of victory, and now they’d like to finish us off.”

“So put this all together for us, Lieutenant. What’s the full picture?” David asked.

“I believe that Seville is being pressured by the Social and Public Safety Committee to send out his fleet to find us, and then finish off our forces. I’m sure that they need some good news to report; we’ve gotten a lot of information out of the League over the last few months indicating that their news sources are having a hard time covering up the number of ships they’ve lost, and the tens of thousands of causalities suffered. Seville knows his best position is to wait for us to try again, so he wants to sit tight and conserve his strength.”

“That’s a compelling assessment, Lieutenant. Thank you,” David said as he turned his attention back to Sinclair. “Colonel, do you agree with Lieutenant Tamir’s thesis?”

“Tamir, close your ears because I don’t want you to get a big head,” Sinclair said with a slight smirk. “The lieutenant here is one of the best analysts I’ve got. If he gives me his best guess, I’d put money on it all the way to the bank.”

“So Seville thinks we’re coming back, and his government is run by imbeciles who have no idea how to fight a war. I think it’s a good thing for us, if we could somehow force his hand in moving the fleet.”

Tamir cleared his throat. “I’ve got an idea for dealing with that too, sir.”

“Lay it on me, Lieutenant,” David said with a relaxed smile.

“Well, sir, we know the League puts a lot of stock in what the Terran Coalition media has to say about the war and our readiness posture. All media except for Canaan News Network. You have an embedded reporter on board from GNN if I remember correctly? We could plant disinformation with your embed and, in turn, cause the Social and Public Safety Committee to force the issue with Seville.”

“An interesting idea, Lieutenant. Do we consider it might be dishonorable to manipulate the truth, though?” Aibek interjected.

David shook his head. “When dealing with the League? I don’t see it as lying, I see it as deceiving the enemy.”

“I must protest, General Cohen. Lying brings you closer to evil, and lying is wrong by its very definition,” Aibek said, his jaw set.

David closed his eyes for a moment. “XO, I hear you. One of the Ten Commandments is you shall not bear false witness. I get it. But what else would you have us do? I think Lieutenant Tamir is onto something here. It’s simple and brilliant. Deceive the Leaguers and get them to divide their forces. Then we go in and take that station. We do that… the fourteen thousand plus people who died two days ago don’t die in vain. If the price for that is one Jew committing a sin, I’ll beg God for forgiveness and hope it evens out.”

David could tell from the furrowed brow and narrowed eyes on Aibek’s face that he wanted to continue to debate the subject as he began to speak again. “It’s your decision, sir.”

“The ruse will have to be perfect, General,” Sinclair said, changing the subject. “You can’t have her deliver a report like normal. That’ll look and smell fake. We have to go all out; she has to do it under duress and act like she’s breaking the rules. I’d say go so far as to fire blanks and have her tackled by security personnel. Do everything short of shooting her on camera.”

“That’s pretty dark, Colonel,” David responded.

“I’m an intelligence officer, sir. I’m paid to be dark and do the things no one else wants to know about or be responsible for. You could say I’m a sin eater. I do the things that need to be done, and my hands are the ones that get dirty so the rest of you can stay clean.”

David sat back in the chair, considering his options. If this goes wrong, it’s going to be bad. We’ll be walking a very fine line in terms of breaking the law that states CDF personnel cannot knowingly lie to the press. Who am I kidding? We’ll be breaking the law. No, I’ll be breaking the law. It's my command, and the buck stops with me. God help us if we don’t, I don’t see a way to get Seville to divide up his fleet. This might not even work, but I’ve got to try. I owe it those who died for all of this to not have been in vain. “Okay, Colonel Sinclair. You work up a script, I’ll talk to our resident reporter and see if she’s willing to go along.”

“I would recommend giving her no choice,” Sinclair responded, his voice hard as nails.

“It must be a voluntary action, period. I’ll sign up for lying to the League, but I won’t force her to do it against her will. On the pragmatic side of things, even if I did, it would show, and all of this would be for nothing.”

Sinclair nodded. “I understand, sir, even if I disagree.”

“Okay, gentlemen, let’s get to it,” David announced as he stood up. The rest of them sprang to their feet a split second after he did. “Dismissed.” Aibek thinks I’m going too far. Sinclair, not far enough. Who’s right? If I stop to think about it, I don’t think I’d like the answer.

21

Ruth decided to take a break from working on the tactical plans for dealing with Unity Station and made her way to the officers’ mess closest to the bridge. There were so many officers on the ship, it had six different messes assigned to them, while the traditional wardroom was reserved for only the senior staff of the vessel. Hmm, they have cheeseburgers today. It’s still kind of weird to break kashrut. I feel odd about it, she pondered before deciding to order a hamburger without the cheese. After waiting patiently in line, she got her meal and proceeded to a dispensing station to get a beverage; in her case, regular water. A voice from behind startled her from her thoughts.

“Hey, Ruth, how are you doing?” Taylor asked.

She turned around to see the communications officer behind her, a cheeseburger in hand. “I’m okay but famished. An army marches on its stomach, right?” she asked rhetorically while flashing a smile. “Want to join me?”

“Sure.”

The two of them made their way to a small table and took their respective seats. It wasn’t lost on Ruth that Taylor was a gentleman; the little things he did like always waiting until ladies were seated before he sat were noticed.

“An hour off shift, then back on for another ten. We’ll sleep when we’re dead, I guess,” Taylor deadpanned.

“It seems like it some days. But we’re making progress.”

“Yeah, I’ve been helping to gather information from the various captains in the fleet. General Cohen’s closing in on a strategy. I’ve worked with him long enough to be able to feel it when he’s about to find what he’s looking for.”

Ruth laughed. “I’ve only got an extra six months on you for working with him. I do know what you mean, though. He’s like a laser sometimes in his focus on a problem. One of the best things about his style, actually,” she said as she looked Taylor over. His face was wearing a frown, and something about his demeanor was off. “Is something wrong, Robert?”

“No.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “Yes.”

“Which is it?”

“I sometimes struggle with my job.”

“How? You’re good at it, at least from my perspective.”

“Not at being good at it, but that I have it. My family was mostly Marines. I always wanted to do computers, so I ended up riding a console. There are times when I wish I were out there, on the sharp tip of the spear.”

Ruth glanced at Taylor’s right hand, where he wore his wedding ring. “Does it have something to do with your wife?”

“Yeah. She was a Marine. I wasn’t there for her.”

“Sometimes it doesn’t help if you were,” Ruth replied.

“What do you mean?”

“I was there when my parents died. A League patrol burst into our house and killed my father as he reached for a gun. Then my mother,” Ruth said as she set her face and determined not to cry at the memory.

“I had no idea…I’m sorry,” Taylor mumbled.

“No, it’s okay. I paid them back, an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. When those soldiers turned away, I snatched up a gun and shot them in the back. I kept shooting until I ran out of bullets, and then I ran as fast as my legs would carry me.”

Taylor’s brow furrowed. “Then what?”

“I joined a resistance cell and fought the League until the fleet and the Marines liberated our planet. I had nothing left. No family, no friends. I forged my dead father’s signature on my enlistment papers, easy to do because all planetary records were gone, and joined the CDF when I was sixteen. I’ve been blowing Leaguers out of space ever since,” Ruth said in a darkly amused tone.

Taylor laughed softly. “You’re a little warped, you know that, right?”

Ruth smiled. “More than a little.”

“I’ve been thinking about volunteering for the boarding party.”

Ruth’s eyelids opened wide and her mouth dropped open. “Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I think it’s time that I stood up and put myself on the firing line,” Taylor responded in a sure voice.

“What will that accomplish?”

“I hope it will help me to live in my own skin a bit better. Perhaps I can be of some use. I’m a fairly skilled hacker, or as Colonel Demood puts it, comms geek.”

Ruth snickered. “He’s got a snappy put down for everyone, doesn’t he?”

Taylor nodded as he smiled. “Yes, he does. Besides, I shot expert in basic.”

“We’re a good twelve years from basic.”

“Speak for yourself. I’m only eleven years removed from the tender attention of my drill instructor.”

Ruth laughed again. “Just make sure if you volunteer, you do it for the right reasons, okay?”

“I’ll try,” Taylor said, picking up his burger. “Want to see if they’re any good?”

“We should bless the food first.”

“Why don’t you do it? That’s something else that isn’t quite right these days.”

“What do you mean?” Ruth asked, her voice betraying concern.

“I don’t know what I believe anymore. Do you still want to be friends?” he asked with a touch of a smile.

Ruth rolled her eyes. “Really? I think we’ve all been there. God knows I have. I still go to church and shul. I guess you could say I’m confused.”

It was Taylor’s turn to laugh. “Well, if that’s settled…”

Ruth smirked and bowed her head before blessing the food. As they ate, she couldn’t set aside her concern for Taylor. After they had finished their meal and he went back toward his duty, she found herself standing at the observation portion of the mess, looking out into space. God, please watch over Robert. He’s a good man, and he’s about to throw himself into harm’s way. Help them all. After a few minutes of quiet contemplation, her comm went off; it was time for her to go back to work. Turning around, walking quickly and with purpose out of the mess, she hoped she wasn’t about to lose another friend.

* * *

The medical bay on the Lion was still crammed full of the injured. As the Lion was the de facto flagship of the Coalition Defense Force, it got the latest and greatest technology; medical technology was included in those upgrades. The most severe trauma cases were transferred to the Lion in hopes the gravely injured would survive with the higher quality of care available. Walking into the lobby, David sought out Doctor Tural, who was making his rounds; he’d decided to spend a few minutes visiting the doctor and his patients before committing them to the next round of combat.

“Doctor! Do you have a moment?” David asked as soon as Tural stepped away from one of the treatment beds.

The much older man nodded. He wore a tired, sagging expression. “Of course, Col… General Cohen.” Tural gestured to a quiet corner of the room, to which both men walked.

“Doctor, I’m sorry to disturb you. I wanted to see for myself.”

Tural looked up at David. “There are many here who might not make it, but we’re doing our best. All but twenty-three of the most severe cases have been discharged. A lot of soldiers are on light duty, but they’ll be fine.”

David found visiting the wounded difficult. To see men and women maimed following his orders was just hard to accept. I have a duty to see them, to try to comfort them in some small way, because regardless of anything else, I ordered them to fight. “I’ve brought some medals with me… Purple Hearts.”

“I see. Those are well earned in this ward, sir.”

“Will you escort me to the patients? I want to speak with each individually,” David asked.

“Who is first on your list?”

“Private Third Class Doris Hunter,” David replied somberly.

“Follow me, General,” Tural said, pointing to a bed across the room.

David took in the sight of the young woman; she was sitting up in bed, a smile on her face, which greatly surprised him, as both of her legs had been amputated after they were mangled from an explosion in the engineering spaces. Seeing David approach, she stiffened her posture in the bed.

“At ease, Private,” David said with a forced smile.

“I apologize for not standing, sir.”

David pursed his lips, fighting down emotion. “Apology not required, Private Hunter. I’ve got something for you.” He forced a smile as he opened the small case that held the medal. Turning it around to show her, he continued, “Private Third Class Doris Hunter, I hereby present you with the Purple Heart for the wounds you received in combat at Unity Station. Please accept this medal on behalf of a grateful republic.”

Stepping back, David came to attention and smartly brought his hand to his brow, snapping off a crisp salute. Retreating into the process and decorum of military tradition was always his out.

Doris stiffened again and brought her arm up, which was when David saw her hand was gone as well. It was all he could do not to break down in tears; the sight of a young woman, no more than twenty years of age, already missing three limbs, deeply affected him.

“Thank you, sir.”

David inclined his head and began to turn away, a tear already forming in his eye when her voice stopped him.

“Sir, it's okay.”

Forcing himself to turn back around, the tear falling down his face, David answered her, “How so, Private?”

“I’ll be back on my feet in a week with prosthetics, and Doctor Bhatt’s already told me I'd be able to receive grafted limbs, flash-cloned for me in a year. I’ll be back in the fight and useful inside of four weeks, sir. My only regret is that I won’t be there for you when we go after Seville again.”

David stood there, stunned. How can she be so upbeat, after losing three-quarters of her limbs… what do I have to complain about? Pull it together, David. “You focus on getting better, Private. I’ll focus on Admiral Seville,” he said, summoning a smile.

“I will, sir. I’ll be better soon,” she continued. “This cause is worth fighting for, no matter what the cost is.”

“Yes, it is, Private. Thank you for reminding me of that fact.”

Tural interrupted them. “And Private Hunter needs to get ready for her physical therapy session today. If you’d follow me, General?”

“Of course, Doctor. Private, an honor to meet you. Carry on.”

“Godspeed, sir,” Doris said as a goodbye.

“Godspeed, Private.”

As Tural led him away, David whispered, “What’s her prognosis, Doctor?”

“Excellent, sir. It’ll take some time, but she’ll be fine. Just think, there was a time when we couldn’t do anything except fit a prosthetic and hope the person would learn to adjust.”

“I suppose that’s a good point, Doctor. Medical science has salved some of our wounds. But not all.”

“No,” Tural admitted. “Some patients are too far gone when they get here. I think that’s the hardest part about trauma surgery. I have to make the call as to who can be saved, and who we should allow to pass on so others get help.”

David glanced over Tural as they walked. “I don’t think I’d want that responsibility, Doctor.”

“How is it different from commanding the ship in battle? Different sides of the same coin.”

“I don’t want to be deciding exactly who lives and who dies. That’s God’s job, not mine.”

Tural laughed. “Allah, who works through my hands, decides who lives and dies. I am only his instrument, and I try to do as much good as I can.”

David nodded. “I think that applies to most of us, Doctor.”

“Shall we go to the next patient? He’s on a ventilator, but his girlfriend serves on one of the ships in the fleet. She’s been spending a lot of time at his bedside, and I think it would mean a lot to her.”

“Lead the way.”

* * *

Calvin’s office was deep in the bowels of the ship—Marine country—and like the other senior officers onboard the Lion, he had his own space. Ostensibly to support the administrative component of a Marine Expeditionary Unit, the office space was a concession by CDF ship designers. Alone in the office, he sat back in his chair, the lights dimmed, lost in thought. The door chime rang, which he ignored. It buzzed again and again. Finally, he barked, “Come in! You better have a damn good reason for disturbing me too!”

The hatch swung open, and in walked David. “The general wants to talk to you… that good enough?”

“I guess,” Calvin replied.

“Come on, not even a trademark Demood wisecrack? I set it up for you,” David said while shaking his head. “Mind if I sit down?”

“Yeah… I mean, no. Have a seat, sir.”

“What’s eating you, Cal?”

“You got to ask?”

“Pretty sure it’s the same thing eating me.”

“I’m tired of my Marines dying. I’m really tired of it. We couldn’t even get to the damn fight before a third of ‘em got wiped off the face of the universe. I’ve been doing this for decades. I’m sick of it. Do you know my wife wants to have kids? I keep putting her off,” Calvin said before his voice trailed off.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want them to grow up and join the Marines just like their daddy and then I get to bury them too!”

David was silent for a moment, a rueful look on his face. “Cal, I get it.”

“The hell you do, sir.”

“Why do you think I’m not married?” David asked, not waiting for an answer before he continued. “Because I don’t want to put someone through what my mom and I went through after my dad was killed.”

“There’s something different about engaging the enemy on the ground, directly in front you. There’s also something different about seeing those around you die in your arms, their lifeblood spilling onto you and while there’s nothing you can do to save them.”

“I’m not here to debate whose job sucks more, Cal.”

“Then why are you here, sir?” Calvin grated out.

“Because I can tell when a friend is hurting, and I want to help.”

You can’t do a damn thing for me. “That’s nice, I guess. Can you bring my Marines back?”

“No, I can’t. But I can do everything in my power to make sure we win the next engagement, and part of that is making sure my MEU commander is in the game.”

“I’ll do my job, sir,” Calvin said as anger rose in him. Who the hell does this little pissant think he’s talking to? I was killing Leaguers when he was still in grade school.

“I know you’ll do your job, Cal,” David replied, leaning forward. “I’m here to help my friend.”

“Thanks.”

There was a pregnant pause in the conversation before Calvin decided to pick it back up. “I read over the op we’re running with the reporter. Pretty ballsy.”

“Yeah, if she’ll agree to it.”

“If she doesn’t, put a gun to her head.”

“Please tell me you’re joking, Cal.”

“Halfway,” Calvin replied with a smirk. “She seems to like you. Going to convince her?”

“I’m going to do my best. If she won’t, we’ll figure something else out, but I think she will.”

“You promise me we’re going to put the hurt on Seville and his butchers, David,” Calvin said, staring at David intently. “No matter what it takes, we destroy his fleet, capture the station, kill the admiral, and drink some of that Saurian ale crap over his body.”

“We’re going to do it without giving in to dark impulses.”

“He gets in my sights, I’m putting him down like a rabid dog.”

David sat mute for several seconds, apparently not sure what to say. “Don’t get lost in the hate, Cal. Remember, what makes us the good guys is we’re not like them.”

“Yeah, that sounds good and all… but right now, I want to erase as many Leaguers as I can and hope to hell it makes me feel better.”

David stood up. “I’m going to go talk to Angie. Get your team together and prepare. I want to see you up in the CIC before we launch the attack to review strategy.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

“Godspeed, Cal,” David said as he turned around and walked out of the room, leaving Calvin to continue to stew in the dark recesses of his mind.

22

Angie was working on a report for GNN. While cut off from the rest of the galaxy, she was doing the editing and cutting of the footage herself to pass the time. She nearly jumped out of her skin when the bell rang on her hatch. Not expecting any company, she settled herself and called out, “Come in!”

The hatch swung out, and David strode through it. He was frowning, something outside of his regular style. “Hello, Angie.”

“Hello, General,” Angie replied. “What brings you down to my little cubby hole?”

“I was wondering if we could chat for a minute.”

“It’s your ship, so I’m kind of obligated to, aren’t I?” Angie said, with some level of condescension in her voice.

“Have I ever treated you like that?”

“Not directly. Though I suspect beneath your velvet glove lies an iron fist.”

David frowned and glanced to the side. “I’ve tried to create a professional relationship with you built on respect.”

“You don’t come down here unless you want something, General. What is it?”

“To start with, I’ve got some good news. We’re lifting EMCON, so you can make a report back to Canaan.”

“There’s a but coming here. I can feel it a kilometer away,” Angie replied.

David again averted his eyes. “Yes. We need you to deliver a particular message in your broadcast.”

“Which is?”

“That the fleet is battered, many of our capital ships are damaged beyond repair, and intensive efforts are underway to save the disabled ships and their crews.”

“That’s a lie,” Angie blurted out.

“It’s not a lie. It’s deceiving the enemy.”

I can’t believe it, after all this time, he wants to use me like this? “That’s crap and you know it, General,” Angie said as her eyes flashed anger.

“I wouldn’t ask if we had any other options.”

“I don’t suppose you’d care to explain it to me?”

David shook his head. “You know it's classified.”

“If you want my help, you’re going to explain it to me.”

“I could compel you to assist me, under the War Powers Act,” David replied, but his tone indicated his heart wasn’t in the statement.

“I won’t dignify that with a response,” Angie said, her jaw set as she folded her arms in front of her.

“I’m sorry,” David began, gesturing to one of the chairs in the small office. “May I sit?” At her nod of acceptance, he sat down and faced her, making eye contact. “We believe there’s a faction within the League’s government that wants to send out its fleet to look for us. If they do, it gives us a window of opportunity to attack Unity Station. It’s a narrow one, and we’d have to act very quickly. This is the only play we have; Seville has gotten too many reinforcements for our existing fleet to win without losses so high we’d be unable to keep fighting.”

Angie leaned forward. “A pyrrhic victory?”

“Exactly. You’ve been hanging around us for too long… picking up the lingo.”

Angie snorted. “You’re not off the hook, General. You still haven’t explained what you think my report can do.”

“We’re guessing, but the intel guys think the League’s Social and Public Safety Committee wants a quick win. Seville, whatever else he is, knows his strategy. He wants us to come to him. If we release a news report, especially from a source that is decidedly straight down the middle without pro-CDF ties… it’ll be taken as valid by the League’s intelligence analysts. It could be the final straw in them sending out the hounds, as it were.”

“You’re telling me that going against everything I believe in, lying to the viewers, and breaking the code I live by, is the only way we’re going to win?”

David looked away for a moment, but Angie was gratified that he returned his gaze to her and again made eye contact. “Boiled down, that’s exactly what I’m saying. While we’re on the subject, I’m breaking the law and going against what I believe too.”

“Way to put a girl on the spot, General.”

“I don’t ask this lightly. We lost nearly fifteen thousand people two days ago.”

“Fourteen thousand, eight hundred sixty-two, to be exact.”

“Too many. We can’t leave here without their sacrifice counting for something.”

“But what about the moral cost? What if the lie comes out?”

“I can’t think about tomorrow. I’m focused on today. If it comes out down the road, so be it. We’ll clean up the mess then.”

Angie shook her head. “David, I’ve been on this beat for long enough to know the Mister Goody Two Shoes routine of yours isn’t just an act. Why are you doing this?”

David glanced down at his feet. “Because I have to. The League must be defeated. Whatever it takes.”

“And if I say no? Would you force me to at the point of a gun?”

Fire shone in David’s eyes. “That’s a line I won’t cross. If you say no, we’ll figure out something else. Or more likely, we’ll have to pack it up and head for home. At the rate Seville is gaining new ships, he’ll be able to overwhelm us in six months. This is a one and done opportunity.”

“So if I don’t go along, I’ll single-handedly cost us the war?”

“No. You’ll cost us a chance for a major victory and set the war back. Even if you agree, we still have to win. That’s far from a foregone conclusion.”

“Do you realize the choice you're forcing me to make? I either stay true what I know I should do and cause unimaginable consequences, or I sacrifice my beliefs and ideals.”

“Angie, I don’t envy your position. All I can say is I know what I’m asking. I ask nothing of you I haven’t already had to do myself.”

“And if it goes south? Who takes the blame, your officers?”

“Of course not. I would. I already entered objections from my senior staff into the ship’s log. They’re covered if we fail. I’ll do the same for you.”

“If I agree, what exactly do you want me to do?”

“We’ve got a plan to make the broadcast look as if it’s under duress. Marines armed with battle rifles and stun rounds will interrupt your report and make it look good for the camera.”

“Pure propaganda, in other words.”

“Yes.”

To his credit, he’s being honest with me. At least I think he is. “I’ll do it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I can’t live with myself if all the people who died fighting yesterday did so in vain. Especially if I can help. Someday, though, David, this is going to come back to haunt us.”

“I’ve run up a large bill with God. I fear the day He calls it in.”

Angie closed her eyes. “When do you need me?”

“Now.”

“Then let’s go before I change my mind,” Angie said with a false sense of bravado. Conflicted inside, she knew to help the military pull off what would be the most significant victory of the war was something she had to do. At the same time, turning her back on the truth was incredibly difficult. I’ve made a career out of being an honest broker and holding influential people to account. That goes out the window with this move. Isn’t lying against the Ten Commandments? Why am I even asking myself that… wow, I’ve changed.

David stood and held the hatch open. “Ladies first.”

“I can handle opening the door, General,” Angie replied, still not willing to let go of the earlier comments.

“Never said you couldn’t. My mother raised a gentleman and holding a door open is a mark of respect.”

Angie walked out of the room without another word, trying to focus her mind on the task at hand and her wildly conflicted emotions, not the least of which was the level of respect and admiration she had for David. In the months she’d been on the ship, she had grown to like how he did things. How he treated his crew and those around him was refreshing. Conflating it with his behavior just now was a difficult task.

* * *

After confirming via the communications logs that David was in his day cabin, Taylor made his way up to deck one and knocked on the already open hatch.

David glanced up from his desk and waved him in. “Come on in, Lieutenant.”

Taylor came to attention before David’s desk. “Sir, permission to speak freely?”

“Of course. Have a seat.”

Taylor sat down and stared straight ahead, almost past David. His heart was pounding in his chest. “Sir, I’d like to request permission to join Colonel Demood’s assault force.”

David raised an eyebrow and shook his head. “I’m not inclined to grant your request, Lieutenant. You’re a vital part of my bridge team, going above and beyond the call of duty you signed up for and have executed to the highest ability the position of my flag staff leader. I plan to note in your official record that you performed in the most exemplary of manner these last few days.”

Taylor swallowed hard. “Sir, with respect, the hard work here is done. My relief from the second or third shift can handle the comms duties during the battle.”

“How about this, son… tell me why you want to go.”

Hearing David address him as “son” almost brought a smile to his lips. He was only ten years older. “Sir, I’m a communications guy… I’ve avoided combat my entire career. My wife was a Marine. She died in combat, on an op.”

“So you think by volunteering you can somehow make up for that?”

“Not make up for it, sir, but maybe… even the scales. I’ve always taken the safe road. I need to stand up, I need to be counted. I shot expert in basic. I know how to fight; ask Colonel Demood. He and I spar regularly, and I give as good as I get.”

“The fact remains, you’re the single best communication, computer, and encryption asset I have on this vessel. Sending you into harm's way, from the perspective of what is best for the ship and the fleet, would be foolhardy at best.”

“Well, sir, I’d be an even better asset supporting the Marines directly, helping them hack the systems of Unity Station. Maybe I could even gain access to its weapons arrays or shielding. Help swing the battle toward us from within that station.”

Taylor could see David was considering his proposal by the way his brow had furrowed and the look of contemplation he wore. “That’s somewhat compelling, Lieutenant. There’s something I have to say to you, and this is more of a personal matter. Have you ever taken a life?”

Taylor shook his head. “No, sir.”

“You will on this mission. I don’t care where you are or what you’re doing. At some point on this mission, you’ll kill another human being. That’s something that sticks with you for the rest of your life. There’s no putting it behind you. You make peace with it, but it stays with you. Are you prepared?”

Kind of like not being there for your loved ones sticks with you your entire life. “Yes, sir, I am.”

“Very well. I’ll approve your request. Once the fleet is positioned, I’ll excuse you to join Colonel Demood’s assault. Be careful out there… this one won’t be easy.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll do my best,” Taylor said.

“Carry on, Lieutenant. Godspeed.”

Taylor stood and brought himself to attention. “Thank you, sir. Godspeed to you too, sir.” He then performed an about-face and exited David’s office. Walking back to the bridge to begin his shift, he was not at peace.

23

Justin Spencer had just sat down to eat dinner with his wife and children in what was called the private residence portion of the president’s house. The house was divided into three wings: one held the machinery of the executive branch; the dozens of advisors and staffers that ran the behind-the-scenes actions. Another was for public viewing and had daily tours open to the masses. It had always been a staple of the Terran Coalition that the seat of government was to be transparent and easily accessible to all citizens. The last was the private residence, a place where the president and his family could find solace without the pressing rigor of politics and running the government.

His steward stuck his head in the door to the family’s dining room. “Mr. President, I’m sorry, sir, but you're needed in the Oval.”

“Emergency?” Spencer asked, pained that he couldn’t share some time with his family.

“Yes, sir. They need you right away.”

Spencer stood with a look of apology toward his family. “I’m sorry. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“It’s okay, dear. I’ll have a plate saved for you,” his wife said.

With a knowing nod, he walked out of the dining room and made his way to the Oval Office, security detail in tow. Pausing outside the door to retrieve a suit jacket from a coat rack directly adjacent to it, he put the coat on before entering. Spencer was well known for not allowing anyone to enter who wasn’t dressed in business attire. The least we can do is honor those who came before by treating it with respect in all things, including how we dress.

As he walked through the door, his assembled staff, which included the secretary of defense, and General MacIntosh, stood in respect.

“Please be seated, ladies and gentlemen. What’s going on?” Spencer asked.

His chief of staff spoke up. “Sir, I think it would be better to see this in real time.” The man fumbled with a remote, and a holoprojector came to life, presenting an image that Spencer quickly realized was onboard of a CDF military vessel.

“This is Angela Dinman, reporting live for GNN onboard the CSV Lion of Judah. We’re broadcasting without the permission of the CDF. For the last several days, the military has prevented us from presenting a true account of what happened during the battle at Unity Station. The League has developed a new weapon, which the best minds in the CDF have no answer for. This weapon is a stealth mine that in military terminology allows for area denial. The joint CDF and Saurian Navy fleet took twenty percent losses in the first engagement. Over half of our fighters and bombers were wiped out. Most of the remaining ships sustained heavy damage, and we’re hiding out for fear of the League discovering our location. We believe the people of the Terran Coalition have a right to know what’s going on out here.”

As she spoke, there were muffled shouts in the background.

“It appears we’ve been found. I knew we wouldn’t get long. To whoever is watching this, make sure the truth comes out and hold the CDF to account. That’s what we try to do here.”

An explosion somewhere in the background caused sparks and debris to rain into the picture, followed by shouting and weapons fire. The feed abruptly cut out after an energy weapons discharge hit Angie in the chest.

“What in the name of God was that?” MacIntosh blurted out. “Since when does GNN put out fake news?”

Spencer went weak at the knees at the thought of what the broadcast could do to the morale of the civilian population. “I don’t know, Andrew. I’m at a loss for words.”

Secretary Dunleavy spoke up. “Sir, I think this was on purpose.”

The entire room turned to stare at him. “I don’t follow,” Spencer replied.

“We know from intelligence received previously today there’s evidence the League’s leaders want to split up the fleet at Unity Station and go looking for our forces. What better way to draw them out than a news report, from a supposedly unbiased source that says we’re on the ropes and defenseless?”

MacIntosh nodded. “It tracks, Mr. Secretary. I know General Cohen through and through. There’s no way some reporter would be able to pull this off under the nose of his security staff, and Colonel Demood’s Marines. It still presents a problem to the civilians, though. We can’t deny it. If we do, we tip off the League.”

“We also can’t confirm it,” Spencer commented. “I’m not lying to the citizens of our nation, and besides, it’s against a dozen Terran Coalition statutes for a public servant to knowingly lie to the press or attempt to spread false information.”

“Which is why General Cohen wouldn’t ask you for permission, sir,” MacIntosh interjected. “He knows you can’t approve it.”

“Which means he’s breaking the law, then,” Spencer said, not liking any of the options on the table. “But I’ll concede in light of the circumstances his actions may be justified.”

“We give General Cohen a long leash, specifically because his methods are unorthodox, Mr. President. I’ve learned to not bet against him.”

“How can we be sure that this is his plan?” Spencer asked the room.

“We’ll find out for sure when we have our next communication window with the Lion of Judah. They’re to present a final plan to attack Unity Station,” Dunleavy replied.

“What if this was just a rogue reporter, trying to harm the war effort? Or worse… a League plant?” Spencer’s chief of staff asked.

“We vetted Ms. Dinman through the same procedure we do for individuals with high-level security clearance. She’s no League agent,” MacIntosh said.

“You mean, we don’t have evidence she is. I’ve been in this game long enough to know that we’re never sure someone’s a spy until they do something.”

“Occam’s razor. It’s far more likely General Cohen has a trick up his sleeve than wild ideas about spies,” Dunleavy interjected.

“Fine. What about the fallout from this? Mr. President, we have to get in front of it, right now,” Spencer’s chief of staff said insistently.

“Would I be correct in assuming that there’s already the normal press corps gaggle in the briefing room?” Spencer asked.

“Yes, sir. The entire pool is present, shouting questions at the deputy press secretary.”

“Alright. I’ll go down there myself and talk to them. Without lying.”

“You’ll be walking a very fine line, Mr. President,” Dunleavy said, his brow furrowed.

“I know, but it’s the only thing we can do. Ladies and gentlemen, you’re all welcome to join me.”

Spencer gestured toward the door and walked out, the gaggle of advisors, military officers, and his security detail in tow.

MacIntosh made his way up to Spencer’s side and whispered sotto voce as they walked, “Mr. President, I’d be happy to give the briefing for you. If there’s any blowback, I could take the blame.”

Spencer glanced at MacIntosh with a raised eyebrow. “Since when did I ever give you the impression that I was someone who passed the buck?”

“Never, sir.”

“I’m not starting now,” Spencer responded as they quickly walked through the corridors, passing offices and causing staff members to step to the sides to allow the group through.

“I’m just an old military officer, sir. You’re our leader. I’m less important.”

“You sell yourself short, Andrew. You’re the architect of our current success. Besides, I’ve got a plan. Let’s see how it works before we go into full damage control mode.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. President.”

The two men rounded the corner that led into the briefing room, filled with holocameras and projectors, the assembled reporters taking note that the president had arrived. They jumped to their feet, screaming questions.

Spencer took the podium and held up his hands. “Please, I have a statement,” he began, waiting for the tumult to die down. “A few minutes ago, a recording was released to the public. I can confirm our initial assault on the League space station was a failure. Many brave soldiers of the Coalition Defense Force and the Royal Saurian Navy lost their lives. The League has deployed a new weapon against us, a type of stealth mine our sensors can’t see. Even with that new weapon, our fleet was able to escape the trap and inflict significant causalities on the enemy.”

Spencer scanned the room, seeing looks of concern, worry, and fear. “The strength of our nation has never been our technology or the training our soldiers receive or the number of ships we have. Our true power is that we stand together, united. United, regardless of our beliefs, political affiliations, faith, or lack thereof. Today I ask every citizen in the Terran Coalition to pray for the safety of our service members in harm’s way, that they may speedily repair the ships which are damaged and rejoin the fight. Due to this being an ongoing military operation, I can’t comment further. All I can say is we will fight on, no matter what the cost or how hard the road. I know the citizens watching me right now are scared and worried. I doubt there’s anyone in this building who doesn’t share that fear. But we also believe our nation is blessed, because of our trust and dedication to Almighty God. Those were our founding principles, and so they will remain, regardless of any attempts to force us to accept the rule of the League. Thank you all, and may God continue to protect, guide, and bless the Terran Coalition!”

Spencer abruptly turned and walked away from the podium, all while the gathered reporters shouted questions at the top of their lungs. MacIntosh fell in beside him as before, as they rounded the corner away from the briefing room.

“Nice job, sir,” MacIntosh said with a smile.

“Say that once we’re sure it worked,” Spencer replied. Dear God, please let it work. If General Cohen has a plan he’s working, let what I did help him. Deliver us from this scourge. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

The last few hours had been a challenge for Admiral Pierre Seville. He paced around his gigantic stateroom; no more than a gilded cage. “What’s taking them so long?” Seville fumed.

Colonel Strappi perched on a chair in the corner of what amounted to the living room. “I’m sure it’s taking time to bring the Social and Public Safety Committee together, Admiral.”

Seville realized in his own bizarre and unique way, Strappi was trying to be there for him through this maddening exercise. “They probably had to dispatch a medical team to resuscitate a member or two from whatever brothel they were in.”

Strappi’s mouth curled up in an involuntary smile before he forced it down. “Admiral, I believe they’re ready for us,” he said, pointing to the light blinking on the holographic conference system. At Seville’s nod, he engaged the device, and a virtual presentation of the committee’s meeting chamber superimposed itself on the room.

Seville glanced around, taking note of those in attendance. A few aren’t in their usual seats. I wonder what that portends?

“Admiral, we’ve examined your plan,” Chairman Pallis said.

That was quick, Seville thought. “Thank you, Chairman. I am glad you see the wisdom of my strategy.”

“No, Admiral,” Pallis replied. “After deliberation, we’ve determined your tactical plans are timid.”

Seville almost went berserk, right then and there. Forcing himself not to lose control over his tongue, he stared directly at Pallis. “Chairman, I don’t understand…”

Pallis interrupted him. “You propose keeping all of the ships we have sent you as a defensive force at Unity Station. They’re not your personal bodyguard, Admiral.”

“Of course not, sir. It’s simply prudent to concentrate our forces for the next attack.”

“An attack we don’t believe will occur. The Terran Coalition’s rather efficient news organizations have published a report that the fleet is broken and unable to launch any further offensives.”

“I saw the report, Chairman Pallis. Believe me, when I say to you it's not credible. We’ve been over the sensor logs. Most of the ships that escaped are more than combat capable.”

“It was from an organization that has never failed to bring harsh facts to light. They’re unimpeachable as a source.”

“Nevertheless, I tell you, our information proves otherwise.”

“Admiral, you’re beginning to trouble me. Other members of the Social and Public Safety Committee and I are openly wondering why you will not be aggressive after inflicting a harsh blow on the Terrans. Have you lost the taste for combat?”

Seville kept his mouth in a tight line, knowing that he was risking execution if he said what he wanted to say. The League is run by idiots who have no business interfering with the Navy and its prosecution of the war. If they’d listened to me twenty-eight years ago, none of this would be happening. We would have destroyed the Terran Coalition in one fell swoop. But no… these idiots always show up and screw up my plans, then take credit for the successes I manage to cobble together!

“Chairman, I will never lose my taste for defeating the Terran Coalition and its allies, paving the way to reunite humanity under the banner of the League. Still, I counsel caution. We have no idea what the Terrans are planning. They’re a dangerous adversary.”

“I want seventy-five percent of your fleet out looking for the enemy within the hour,” Pallis stated, his voice brooking a no-nonsense attitude.

“The maximum we can afford to send is a third of the fleet, sir,” Seville replied, his objective now to stem the tide of the damage.

“Fine, fifty percent. Within the hour, Admiral, or I’ll have Colonel Strappi issue the orders. To persist further would invite questions as to your individualism.”

“I’ll see to it myself, Chairman,” Seville said as he touched his fist to his chest. Yes, it’s individualism to want to save our sailors and space station, idiots.

“Good, Admiral. Destroy the enemy and chase them back to Canaan!”

The holoprojector blinked off without giving Seville a chance to reply. Unlike the rage he had felt the last time they’d engaged in this charade, now he was just drained and beaten. He sat down on the couch and looked up at the ceiling. “These damn old sniveling men will lose it all for us, Strappi.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Order the fleet out, of course. What else can we do?”

“What if you're right?”

“Then we do the best we can. This mindless belief that the embodiment of the state knows all lost us the first Battle of Canaan,” Seville replied. “Without it, we wouldn’t even be here.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to examine a different solution?”

“If you’re suggesting I ignore my orders… I wouldn’t have expected that to come so directly from you, Colonel.”

“Only a fool cannot see the wisdom of your position, Admiral.”

The colonel is full of surprises today. “I appreciate your loyalty, Strappi. But not today. Today, we do as we’re told. You heard them… to suggest I am tainted by individualism is among the worst things which can be said. Pallis isn’t playing. Ultimately, we may yet turn this to our advantage. Make sure we send our oldest and weakest ships out. If we can hold the Canaan Alliance fleet here when it attacks, the rest of our forces can hit them from the rear.”

“Of course, sir.”

“Carry on, Colonel. I’ll see you in the control room.”

Strappi stood and brought himself to unusually proper attention, slamming his fist into his chest. “Yes, Admiral!”

24

David was about to call it a watch and head down to the wardroom for a very late lunch. He’d spent the time since the staging Angie’s “special report” on the bridge, if for no other reason than to avoid her. He felt guilty for hanging her out to dry in that manner, and it was likely that there’d be hell to pay for her later, at least professionally. Now, though, there was a war to fight. The atmosphere in the bridge was taut and the bridge crew, all the way from him on down the enlisted technicians, were wound up.

For what seemed like the fiftieth time in the last five minutes, David checked his wristcomm; the minute hadn’t changed yet. “Conn, communications!” Taylor called out, interrupting his thoughts. “I’ve got incoming flash traffic from CSV Oxford, sir. It’s Colonel Sinclair.”

“Put him on my viewer, Lieutenant,” David replied, his brain snapping back to fully alert.

A few moments later, Sinclair appeared on the monitor above the CO’s chair. “General, can you hear me?”

“Yes, I can, Colonel. Go ahead.”

“I’ve got some good news for you. Looks like the League took the bait. The number of ships around Unity Station has dropped by half. We’ve been monitoring their Lawrence drive jump-outs for the last thirty minutes. Also, they’re jumping some long distances. Those holes took a lot of energy to open.”

“So they won’t be able to jump back in short order,” Aibek interjected from his seat next to David.

“Exactly,” David finished.

“My thoughts exactly, General. It would appear our gambit paid off,” Sinclair said.

“You’ve got stealth drones on target still?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good, apprise me of any changes in the League fleet status. We’re going to get rolling over here.”

“Understood, General. Godspeed and good luck.”

“Back at you, Colonel Sinclair. See you on the other side,” David replied with a smile before the viewer cut back to a black screen.

“XO, what’s the readiness of Captain Singh and his commandos?”

“My understanding is that the contractors have completed all modifications, and the commandos are performing final checkout of the new equipment now, sir,” Aibek said.

“Let’s get down there, then. I want them on the raider as soon as possible, standing by for deployment.”

“Does that exceed our orders, sir?”

David shrugged. “Maybe it does… but I don’t care. This is a high-risk op, and we have a very narrow window of opportunity. Lieutenant Goldberg, you have the conn.”

“Aye aye, sir,” Ruth replied as she stood from her station at the same time as David and Aibek. “This is Lieutenant Goldberg, I have the conn.”

* * *

Adjusting the large helmet associated with his space suit, Singh looked to his right to see his alpha team leader, Master Chief Petty Officer Gordan MacDonald, performing the same systematic review. They’d been preparing for the last hour by putting on their combat space suits, checking then double-checking all interlocks, connections, and seals. Singh had served with MacDonald for the last six years at Space Special Warfare Command in various roles. His squad of six tier-one operators was one of four teams assigned to the Lion. The entire force of twenty-four operators was committed to this single assignment. It was the first time in Singh’s memory they’d sent so many special warfare operators at the same target.

Doctor Hayworth had spent the entire time with them, confirming his work with the AI and sensor reprogramming. His assistant, Major Elizabeth Merriweather, had joined them as well. Singh was particularly impressed with her ability to modify a science sensor designed to measure nebula interference into a detector for the stealth mines.

“I think we’re good, Captain,” Hayworth said as he reviewed a readout from a diagnostic tablet he’d plugged into the utility port on the space suit. “It would appear based on all simulations, the interface works and your entire team will be able to avoid triggering the mines.”

“Appears?” Singh asked sharply.

“Well, it’s not like we’ve got a supply of League mines to test it out on, Captain. There’s something left to the unknown here. I have confidence the scientific team got it right.”

“So you want them to accept on faith that your contraption works?” Merriweather asked in a sugary sweet voice.

Hayworth was utterly silent for a moment. “I think I’m going to, how does the military put it? Decline to engage.”

Singh laughed before reaching out and slapping Hayworth on the back. The older doctor jumped back a bit. “Doctor, you’ve got to be a little bit crazy to jump out of a perfectly functional spaceship in a combat EVA suit, knowing you're flying through a minefield, and be looking forward to the thrill.” Turning to the other commandos, he asked them, “Am I right?”

A shout went up from the entire group, punctuated by MacDonald. “If you ain’t spacewalking, you ain’t shit!”

At that moment, David walked into the room, followed closely by Calvin, with Kenneth Lowe taking up the rear. The three men strode across the vast area that housed the special warfare operators and their equipment; it was equipped with airlocks and launch points for the sleds the commandos used to ferry to their targets in space. David addressed the team as he walked closer. “I recognize that shout anywhere.”

“Attention on deck!” Singh barked, his team coming to attention smartly.

“As you were,” David said quickly. “How are preparations going?”

Hayworth spoke first. “All modifications to the suits are complete, General. I’m confident in their ability to get the team to its destination.”

“Captain, do you concur?” David asked of Singh.

“Yes, sir. All simulations look good to us, as we were saying before you arrived. We’re a bit nuts, but we also like to come back,” the tall Sikh commando replied.

MacDonald interjected, “If for no other reason than to toast our accomplishment.”

Calvin and David both laughed, but it was Calvin who spoke. “Captain, I wish I was going with you on this part of the op. Been a long time since I donned a combat EVA suit.”

“You’ll be joining us soon enough, Colonel. The moment we get those mines down—”

“The fleet will be there to put the hurt on Admiral Seville,” David finished.

Calvin glanced back at Kenneth. “Not bad for once, Kenny.”

Kenneth rolled his eyes. “Thanks, Cally.”

“Do I have to get you two down to the gym for some friendly sparring? You could settle this like civilized people, with a good fist fight,” David said in a tone that suggested he was only half joking and with an exaggerated sigh.

After the laughter from everyone died down, Singh noticed that David was looking at him intently. “Captain, permission to address your team?”

“Of course, sir,” Singh answered crisply.

David turned to the commandos. “Ladies and gentlemen, you’re about to embark on a mission that is both uniquely important and extremely perilous. I know you all understand the risk and potential rewards. If the mines come down, I believe we’ll carry the day. Ultimately, I can’t in good conscience order you to accept this mission, using untested technology we’re using for the first time on a wing and a prayer. Anyone willing to undertake the mission, please take one step for…” Before David could get the word “forward” out of his mouth, the entire team had taken one resounding step forward at the same time. David broke into a smile and finished the word, “..ward. Very well. Op approved, Captain Singh. Good luck, good hunting, and Godspeed.”

“Godspeed, General. Permission to disembark?” Singh asked as he glanced over his team, seeing all members ready to go.

“Granted, Captain.”

“Thank you, sir,” Singh replied before turning back to his team. “Okay, folks, complete the final checkouts of your gear, then get it all off and stowed onto the anti-grav equipment sleds for transport to our ride. We’ll see you in a few hours, General.”

* * *

David took his seat at the head of the conference table, flanked by the senior crew from the Lion; Calvin, Hanson, Ruth, Amir, Aibek, Taylor, Merriweather, and Doctor Hayworth were all presented and accounted for. They’d filed in over the last few minutes, ready for the final presentation to the Joint Chiefs of Staff for the CDF and the overall Canaan Alliance leadership. Steady now, just imagine them all naked, and you’ll get through it. At the mental image, he smirked a bit.

“Lieutenant Taylor, please connect us to the briefing,” David ordered.

“Yes, sir,” Taylor responded crisply. He fiddled with the controls on the conference table, and a moment later, the video image from Canaan popped onto the large screen.

Staring at those assembled on the other end of the connection, David put on his best confident smile. “Greetings from the Lion of Judah, Mr. President, Chief Minister, Secretary Dunleavy, and all members of the Joint Chiefs of Staff.”

“Thank you, General Cohen,” President Spencer began. “You’ve got a lot of concerned folks in this room. We saw the holonews broadcast from the Lion. I think I speak for all of us when I ask, what’s going on?”

That didn’t take long… the president is nothing if not direct and to the point. “Sir, we staged that news report with the full cooperation of GNN’s reporter, to trigger a response from the League. We received intelligence from the CSV Oxford which led us to believe Admiral Seville’s civilian leadership was leaning toward sending out his fleet to find us,” David explained, smiling thinly. “We gave them a push to do just that. The push has succeeded, I might add. The Oxford’s stealth drones have already detected half the League fleet moving out of the system.”

“I presume this will allow an assault with better odds of success?” Spencer asked.

“Yes, sir. We’ve got an operational plan to disable the minefield. Doctor Hayworth was instrumental in developing a solution that will allow our commandos to infiltrate the League space station without triggering the mines.”

“Why can’t you adapt the solution to our ships?” MacIntosh interjected.

“Because we took a Hunter missile’s AI and adapted it with real-time scientific sensor data into the commandos’ assault suits. I don’t think anyone would propose integrating AI with our warships.”

Spencer’s jaw momentarily dropped. “How’d you alter an AI on the fly, General?”

“Well, sir, the brevet rank did come with a set of gold-level access codes.”

MacIntosh nodded. “Unorthodox, General. I like it.”

“We have the commando team standing by for final deployment orders on a raider. Once the order is given, it’ll take them roughly three hours to transit to the space station. They will ingress the facility, turn off the mines, and our combined fleet will jump in and assault the League installation and its defending fleet.”

“Do you have enough forces to accomplish the objective, General?” Secretary Dunleavy asked.

“Yes, sir. My team has been over the tactical plan repeatedly, and we believe there’s enough ships, fighters, and Marines to pull this off. We replenished the Marine ranks with ship’s security personnel and volunteers.”

“I’m inclined to approve the attack, General Cohen. Chief Minister, what say you?”

Obe leaned forward in his chair. “If the commanders on the ground believe we can carry the day, then I too am inclined to agree.”

“What’s your projection of causalities, General?” Spencer queried.

“Five to ten percent of capital ships, twenty-five to thirty percent for small craft and our Marines,” David replied in a grim tone.

Spencer looked at Dunleavy. “That’s a lot of good men and women. Weighed against taking Unity, and ending the League’s ability to project power in our galactic arm… I have to say it’s worth it.”

“I agree, sir,” Dunleavy replied as the rest of the generals at the table nodded their heads in silent agreement.

“General, you have a go,” Spencer announced. “If at all possible, bring Admiral Seville back to Canaan for trial.”

“Yes, sir. We’ll get to it, sir. I’ll contact General MacIntosh when the Terran Coalition flag is proudly flying from Unity’s control room.”

“You do that, General,” Spencer replied with a slight grin. “Any closing thoughts, ladies and gentlemen?” he asked of those in the room with him. Seeing no takers, he continued, “Good hunting, and Godspeed, General Cohen. You and the entire fleet are in our prayers.”

“Thank you, sir. Lion of Judah out.”

The screen blinked off, and David let out a sigh. “Okay, the easy part’s done. Now we have to go beat the League.”

“After convincing all that brass to let us attack, defeating the League will be easy,” Calvin said with a snort.

Laughter swept the room, as even David joined in. “I’ll hold you to that, Colonel.” His eyes swept the room. “Okay, people, you’ve got your orders. Let’s move out.” Everyone sprang up at his command; he did as well. “Demood, Amir, please join me and the XO on the bridge. I’ll want a final review of the plan before we engage.”

“Aye aye, sir!” Amir replied in his normal accented tone.

“Roger that, sir,” Calvin muttered while heading for the exit.

David waited until the room had cleared to walk out himself. Focusing on his mind on the upcoming task, he resolved to talk to Calvin after this was all over as his earlier pep talk apparently hadn’t worked. There was something wrong with his friend, and he wanted to help.

25

After David had returned to the bridge, Calvin and Amir joined him and Aibek about fifteen minutes later. Standing around the big holoprojector in the middle of the CIC area, the four men stood side by side, staring at a visual presentation of the League station and its defending fleet.

“With half of the Seville’s fleet gone, the strategy is simple,” David said, zooming in on the station itself. “Our fleet will jump in once we get the word from the commandos that the minefield is down. The Lion of Judah will confirm it’s down…then we’ll launch everything we’ve got—fighters and Marines—and move forward. Nothing fancy about this, we punch straight down their throats.”

“What about reserves, sir?” Aibek asked.

“We don’t have enough ships for reserves, XO.”

“So we’re all in?” Amir said, his nose quirked.

“That we are. Final status of our flight wings?”

“We’ve got every pilot in the fleet on deck. A number of former pilots who transferred at some point in their careers to the fleet volunteered as well,” Amir said. “We’ve got more bombers than fighters, which will be an interesting dynamic. It’ll make an easier time of clearing enemy capital ships, but will make neutralizing their fast movers and achieving space superiority that much harder.”

“On top of that, we’ll need to avoid the point defense fields of Unity Station,” David said. “It’s going to be a tough nut to crack.”

“The Marine shuttles are all sporting the best ECM we’ve got, sir,” Calvin said in a glowering tone of voice. “But we’ll need cover from the fleet.”

“Of course. I’m not entirely sure when or how we’ll launch the assault on the station. The League fleet may sortie out to attack us, in which case we’d grind it down before moving forward. They may sit back and wait for us. That’s what I would do, personally. There will be events in the battlespace which drive my tactics; of that I am certain.”

“Going to be a lot of dead Marines out of this,” Calvin said.

Choosing to ignore the pessimism, David addressed a different question with his MEU commander. “Do we have enough troops?”

“Between my remaining Marines and the volunteers, yes. We have more than enough volunteers, actually… over two thousand of them.”

“Told you the people here are ready to fight,” Amir interjected.

“Yeah. Let’s hope it’s enough,” Calvin groused.

“It’s got to be enough,” David said. “Our hopes and dreams ride with us into battle today. I wanted to see you all personally one last time before we go into combat, to thank you for your efforts and wish you Godspeed.”

David reached out his hand and shook warmly with Amir; he would have hugged him, but bridge decorum prevailed.

“Inshallah, General,” Amir said.

Calvin also took David’s hand and shook it. “Good luck, General. Let’s put the hurt on these bastards.”

“Amen,” Aibek said, surprising all three of them.

“Okay, gentlemen. Get down to your respective commands and let’s get ready to roll,” David replied with finality.

* * *

Kenneth Lowe sat at his desk, deep in the bowels of the Lion of Judah. Joined by his two top leads, he’d reviewed outstanding support requests and ship repairs for the last thirty minutes. He’d been deep in thought before the two men arrived. Feeling like he wasn’t contributing to the war effort had taken its toll on him over the previous months. Colonel Demood’s call to arms had awakened something within him, and he’d been unable to set it aside.

“Everything that can be fixed is fixed,” Harold Billings stated in an exasperated tone, sitting in one of the two chairs in front of Kenneth’s desk.

“Everything? Including fighters?” Kenneth asked.

“Everything, boss.”

Kenneth glanced at Joshua Carter, his right-hand man. “What about on your side?”

“Anything we could do, we did. I’ve ensured our teams are posted around the Lion, but aside from that, we’re waiting for something to break.”

“You mean something to be blown apart during combat?” Kenneth said with a grin. “This waiting… I hate it. I want to be of use and contribute something to the battle.”

“The calm before the storm, I suspect,” Carter said, with an air of having been there before. “In some ways, it’s incredible to be a part of this. To say that we were here, at a moment of history where everything changed. I hope it’s something for the better.”

“I’ve been thinking,” Kenneth began, drawing interruption from Billings.

“See, thinking, that’s what we don’t get paid to do, boss.”

All three men laughed before Kenneth continued. “If they don’t pay us to think, I shudder to think what they do pay us for. No, seriously… since Colonel Demood sent out the call for volunteers, I’ve been thinking.”

“You’re not volunteering for combat duty, sir. You were a comms guy; did you even see combat?” Carter asked.

“No, I didn’t. I served my entire stint on shore duty. I’ve been far closer to combat as a contractor than I ever was as an enlisted soldier.”

“Then what in the name of God has come over you?”

“Gentlemen,” Kenneth began before stopping, shaking his head, and speaking up again. “I’ve done all I can do to help the cause. When the shooting starts, there’s no need for another program manager. I’m removed enough from the real work… I can’t be of too much use there either. But on the boarding party, I could at the very least provide some covering fire. I could move boxes. I might be able to help.”

“Do you even know how to use a gun?” Billings asked with a snort.

“Hey, I’ve got eleven guns at my house, thank you very much.”

“I didn’t ask how many guns you owned. I asked if you knew how to use it.”

Kenneth rolled his eyes. “Yes, Master Chief, I know how to fire all of them, and one is the civilian version of our standard battle rifle, so I meet the requirements that Colonel Demood put out.”

“I’m coming with you, then,” Carter announced, setting his jaw.

“No, you’re not.”

“And why not? I know how to use a gun too.”

“Because you have three children at home and your wife would kill me if you got hurt. I don’t have that waiting for me like you do. Besides, if it all goes to heck here, our guys will need someone to look after them,”

“Boss, you’re not just going off half-cocked to do this…” Billings began.

“I’m not going off half-cocked. I’ve thought this through for the last hour. Gents… I need to stand up and be counted. My decision is made. I just wanted you to hear it from me before I head down to get kitted up.”

“You think Colonel Demood will even let you on the transport? You two razz each other constantly,” Billings interjected.

“He’ll take anyone that can use a gun. Besides, it’s all in good fun.”

“You’re not going alone,” Billings said.

“Excuse me, Master Chief?”

“You got wax in your ears, boss? I said you’re not going alone. If you’re set on it, I’m coming with you. Unlike you, I saw combat. Somebody’s got to watch your six.”

For just a moment, Kenneth almost told the older man to stand down but found himself unable to. He wondered how many other civilians and typical non-combatants on the Lion were going through the same thing as him right now. I’ve had it so good here. This ship has accepted us, all of us. The men and women of the CDF and the Terran Coalition Marine Corps get paid next to nothing, go into harm’s way at a moment’s notice, and never complain. The least I can do is stand with them when we could help tip the balance. “Okay. I can’t tell you both no without being a hypocrite.”

Billings stood. “No, you can’t. Do you remember anything from basic combat training, boss?”

“Shoot the other guy before he shoots you?” Kenneth deadpanned.

“Okay. I’ll try to give you some pointers on the way to the cargo bay the volunteers are mustering in.”

Kenneth laughed as he stood up from his desk, extending his arm to Carter. He was gratified that the older man took it and shook warmly. “Watch after everyone, Joshua. I’ll be back,” he said, before turning toward Billings. “Well, let’s go, Master Chief. I don’t want to keep our esteemed Marine colonel waiting.”

Kenneth stepped out from behind his desk, walking to the hatch and swinging it open; as he did that, Carter leaned into Billings and whispered in his ear, “Bring him home safe and sound.”

Sharing a knowing nod with Carter, Billings stood as well before following Kenneth out of the hatch and toward the cargo bay.

Making their way from the little cubby hole of an office to deck five, they walked side by side down the central passageway of the Lion, heading straight for the cargo bays where Calvin had instructed volunteers to muster. They weren’t the only ones with the same idea; hundreds of other men and women, most in uniform, some not, and more than a few that Kenneth recognized from his team, stood in line. It took some time for the line to snake its way through the double hatch of the cargo bay. A cavernous room, it usually held food, spare parts, equipment, and all manner of supplies. Today, most of the gear in it had been pushed to the sides or moved, with large tables erected throughout the bay, stacked with basic infantry kits. Those kits consisted of battle rifles, magazines, battle armor, grenades, and survival gear.

As the two men walked up to a gunnery sergeant that was processing volunteers, Calvin jogged up. “Well, well, well. You here to sell us some overpriced rifle cleaning kits, Kenny?”

Kenneth rolled his eyes in frustration. “Colonel, aren’t we over the all-contractors-are-slimy stuff yet?”

“Yeah, maybe. You at least answer the commlink when we need something. More than can be said for most contractors. You still get paid triple pay for being in harm’s way.”

“Don’t hate the player, hate the game,” Kenneth said quickly. “I’ve never done anything unethical, and I deliver what I say I will, when I say I will.”

“Yeah, whatever helps you sleep well at night with those fat stacks of credits you and your friends make. Look, what’re you here for?”

“We’re here to join the boarding team,” Kenneth replied, while Billings just folded his arms in front of his chest.

“And do what, shoot red tape at them?” Calvin replied, snickering along with several other Marines who were in earshot of the conversation.

“I was thinking battle rifle rounds instead, but if you’d like to get me some requirements to build a red tape gun, we can put one together in a few days,” Kenneth said in an exaggerated, condescending tone.

“I’d be shocked if you’d ever held a battle rifle, or any weapon for that matter, Kenny.”

Kenneth reached over and used his long arms to pick up a battle rifle. He racked the action, checked it for a round inside the chamber as he’d been taught long ago, then scooped up a magazine and rammed it into the weapon with a click. “I shot expert, Colonel. I own the civilian version of this rifle and still practice with it.”

“Okay, Mister Weekend Warrior,” Calvin began. “When was the last time someone shot at you?”

“Never.”

“Never?” Calvin said, drawing out the word in a mocking tone. “You’ve never been shot at it? Then stop wasting my time and go back to doing whatever it is you do on this ship.”

“Damnit, Colonel,” Kenneth snapped. “I get it. You don’t respect me. Fine, I’ve tried to earn your respect, but maybe that’s just impossible. I’m here because I want to help, and right now, the only way I can help is by picking up a rifle and a sidearm. Everything that can be fixed, is fixed. Once the battle starts, I haven’t done hands-on technical work in so long, I’m useless there too. This is how I can contribute, how I can stand up and answer the call. So you’ve got a choice. Either let us get kits and join the team or tell us to screw off and be down two volunteers. Your choice, Colonel, sir.”

Calvin was silent for several seconds. “Okay, Kenny,” he finally replied. “You want to volunteer, be my guest. Follow orders and try not to wet your pants.”

“Yes, sir,” Kenneth replied with a faux smile. Calvin turned on his heel and walked off, leaving Billings and him with the gunny.

“One of these days, he’ll see we’re not just idiots who fix computers,” Kenneth said toward Billings.

“Yeah, keep dreaming, sir,” Billings said with a smirk as he picked up a set of battle armor and began to strap it on. “But hey, who cares. We might even stay alive to tell the tale.”

Maybe, just maybe. Regardless, we’re doing something worth doing. But why am I so afraid?

26

Waiting has always sucked, David pondered as he sat on the bridge. Whatever is going to happen, I’d rather get on with it. But waiting was what he was doing since he ordered the commandos to execute the attack on Unity Station. The anxiety felt among the crew was palpable as they too awaited word of the attack’s success or failure. Along the way, short microburst communication transmissions had come back, indicating the team’s progress as it got closer to the objective. Boredom isn’t something I do well. I hate not being able to affect the battle. I’d do anything to be out there with those men, at least sharing in the risk. Asking someone to do something I can’t do has just never sat right with me. Glancing at the large LED clock that showed CMT in the back of the bridge, he stretched his neck. Everyone else on this bridge is as restless as I am, he mused. I’d better do something to reassure them.

David stood up from the CO’s chair, his eyes roaming over the bridge. The crew was on edge; that much he could tell just by looking at the drawn faces and downward stares. And how could they not? I’m asking them to go into the mouth of hell itself where we were defeated less than three days ago. He walked over to the communications station and opened a small metal box; there, for ceremonial purposes more than anything, it held an antique microphone attached to a cable. It was the hardline for the 1MC; the master communication circuit that broadcast to every space on the ship. It was never used, but for some reason, he felt the time was right to revert to use it as a symbol.

“Lieutenant Taylor, please patch in the 1MC hardline to a fleet-wide broadcast.”

Taylor looked up and nodded. “Aye aye, sir. You're patched in.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” David replied as he pulled the small mic out of its cradle and held it up to his lips. “Now hear this, now hear this. This is General Cohen, commanding the joint CDF and Saurian Royal Navy fleet. Three days ago, we suffered a tragedy the likes of which has not been seen since the Battle of Canaan, nearly thirty years in the past. Looking around me, I see the toll that was taken, not only on those that perished but also on those who survived. We were so sure our efforts would lead to the destruction of the League, so convinced of the righteousness of our cause. Those convictions weren’t wrong. I know many of you spent the last few days wondering why, asking hard questions of ourselves, of what we believe in. If you’re anything like me, you also concluded our cause is just, and we must fight on, no matter the cost. So today we stand here, united as ever, ready to deliver another blow to the League, and the butchers that control it.”

David’s eyes swept the bridge; everyone had their gaze focused on him. “It has been the greatest honor of my life to lead the crew of the Lion of Judah. Commanding this fleet in battle is a humbling task that I’ve prayed night and day for the last three days over, for wisdom and skill. I come to you now, to say that we’ve found a way to defeat the League’s minefield. As I speak, a group of commandos from Space Special Warfare Command are en route to Unity Station. God willing, they’ll be successful within the hour. These brave men and women have put their lives on the line to ensure the technology the League has deployed will not be available to them in the battle to come. At that point, the odds will be even. But nothing can replace the fighting spirit of free men and women who take up arms to defend their homes, their families, and their way of life.”

David paused for a moment, catching his breath. “We fight, not to conquer, not to enslave, nor to control, but to defend the ideals we cherish, and the things we hold dear. The League of Sol is the worst manifestation of one of the most horrible ideologies ever created. The idea the state can tell you what you can do, who or what to believe in, and define every parameter of your life, is why we escaped from Earth to begin with. Very soon, we’ll jump back into battle. Every soldier, pilot, and Marine in this fleet, regardless of their race, gender, creed, religion, or lack thereof, will be called upon to do their best. And we will. All of us. Because we believe in the ideals of the Terran Coalition, in a society that respects all beliefs, regardless of what they are, in a society where anyone can come from any background and achieve whatever they want. This is the society we have built, this is the society we’ll fight for, and this is the society that, if it comes to it, we will make the ultimate sacrifice to defend. I give you my word that I will do everything in my power in this battle to make sure as few of us make that sacrifice as possible. However, whatever it takes, including sacrificing myself, I will do. The League must be stopped! It must be stopped here. We must take this station and turn it into a launch pad to destroy the League of Sol, once and for all!

“In the time we have left before we go into battle once more, I ask you to pray for our fleet. I’ve never asked God to give us victory, nor will I today. I only ask Him to spare as many of your lives as possible. But today, I fervently hope that when we go into battle, we do it on God’s side. Prepare for the onslaught to come. Give everything you have today like there’s no tomorrow. Godspeed to you all. General Cohen out.”

David sat the small microphone back down in its box and closed the cover. “Thank you, Lieutenant,” he remarked to Taylor and received a polite nod in return. As he turned to walk back to his station, he heard a loud voice call out.

“Attention on deck!” Tinetariro barked.

David watched as the entire bridge crew stood up from their stations, faced him, and saluted. He brought his hand up to his brow before snapping it down in the practiced motion that over the years had become second nature.

“Ready to receive orders, General,” Tinetariro continued.

Smiling, David reached back down grabbed the 1MC mic once again. “Attention, all hands, this is the commanding officer. Man your battle stations. I say again, man your battle stations! This is not a drill. TAO, set condition one throughout the ship!”

Before he’d finished speaking, the lighting on the bridge changed to the blue hue displayed during battle stations, designed to allow the screens the crew focused on to be easier to read.

Ruth looked back from her station. “Sir, condition one is set throughout the ship.”

“Very well, TAO,” David said before continuing into the microphone. “Soldiers, pilots, Marines, civilians of the Lion of Judah… we all know what we have to do in the next few hours. Good luck and Godspeed, Cohen out.”

Setting the microphone back in its container and shutting the door, David again glanced around the room, taking care to look behind him and make eye contact with those standing; a small gesture but one he learned long ago to make sure everyone knew he acknowledged them. “Resume your stations, ladies and gentlemen.” He paused for a moment and allowed a snarky comment to come out. “Let’s go remind Admiral Seville he’s still wanted, dead or alive,” he said, forcing himself into the persona of the happy warrior.

The sentiment seemed to infect the rest of the bridge team almost immediately as they retook their stations. David glanced at the master chief, who stood in the back of the bridge. She inclined her head, and he smiled again, walking forward to take his seat next to Aibek. “And now, we wait.”

“I am certain of Captain Singh’s success, General,” Aibek replied.

I wish I were more certain of it, and I want to be certain of our success. But this is our best course of action… regardless of what happens, we’ll do our best. He locked his eyes forward and waited for a transmission that would decide what happened next.

* * *

Zooming through space at speeds approaching a thousand kilometers an hour, Singh marveled at the beauty of space. The calm before the storm of combat. The majesty of the universe, in such display. Looking out at the sea of stars, seeing how insignificant we are compared to the cosmos. Unity Station was directly ahead of them, though it was too far out to see with the naked eye. The Raider they came in on had to drop them roughly five thousand kilometers away from the station, and it’d taken a couple of hours to get this far.

“Captain, it’s about time to start our deceleration, sir,” the voice of Master Chief Petty Officer Gordan MacDonald stated through the open comms channel the team shared.

“Agreed, Master Chief. Team, commence deceleration on my mark.”

Singh pulled up the navigation computer interface for his suit and clicked off the next waypoint. Giving a moment for the rest of the other twenty-three commandos to do the same, he continued, “Execute deceleration!”

Immediately and in smooth formation, the entire group of commandos rotated their space suits and fired the ion thrusters that began to slow them down. It took another hour to slow to what amounted to average speeds, all the while as they passed through the minefield, the computer system in their suits safely avoided the League’s new weapon.

“That’s one big space station,” one of the commandos commented.

“Target-rich environment,” MacDonald replied. “We’ll just have to remember to leave a few for the Terran Coalition’s misguided children.” Smatters of laughter erupted over the channel, as frogmen loved to insult the Marines. “What’s the plan, one more time, Captain?”

“Ingress the station, disable the alarm systems, vent the atmosphere of the mine’s control room, storm the control room. Deactivate the mines, signal the Lion, and watch the fleet come in and blow these guys apart.”

“Who’s cooking the popcorn for the fireworks show?” one of the younger and newer commandos interjected.

“Don’t count your chickens before they hatch, Petty Officer,” Singh said as he watched his heads-up display, which showed the location they needed to be at on Unity. “Follow me in, team.” Expertly maneuvering his suit and its thruster pack, he closed the gap quickly, crossing the last few kilometers without incident. Their objective was an airlock, twenty-five meters from the control room. The entire team came to rest around said airlock, securing themselves with magnetic boots.

“Rostami, you’re up,” MacDonald called through the comms system; Petty Officer 1st Class Esmail Rostami was the team’s resident expert on information warfare. It was his job to get them into the station undetected.

“Aye aye, Master Chief!” Rostami said, quickly locating the data access point at the airlock that was designed to be used by League repair parties for troubleshooting problems. He plugged in his tablet and went to work. After a few minutes, the doors to the airlock opened, right on cue. “Captain, I’ve disabled the local alarms for this airlock, and we should be able to cycle in, six at a time.”

“Good work, Rostami,” Singh said. “Alpha team, you're first. We’ll proceed in by team until all of us are accounted for. Master Chief, you’re with the first group. If we get separated, securing the objective comes first. Period.”

“Understood, Captain,” MacDonald replied.

It took a couple of minutes for each airlock cycle to complete, and Singh found himself praying silently they’d all make it inside safely. When the third team made it in, he took his place with the last group. The outer door closed, and air slowly filled the room. It took sixty seconds to fully pressurize the airlock, at which point the lights turned a bright green, and the inner door slid open, revealing the rest of the team.

“Gentlemen, I believe we’re all present and accounted for,” Singh said with a smile visible through the faceplate of his helmet. “Now we’re on the clock—Alpha, Beta team, with me. Charlie and Delta, take flanking positions and cover ingress points where we can expect enemy resistance. Silenced weapons only. Stealth is paramount for this portion of our mission.”

All the team leaders acknowledged his orders, and the commandos moved out. Singh and MacDonald took point for Alpha team, carefully leapfrogging ahead of each other to scout out the next junction in the maze of passageways on the League space installation. He counted them as very lucky that no security patrols were encountered; though it stood to reason the League felt safe here and had lax protocols. Coming up to the final junction, Singh held up his hand, making a fist motion to stop. “Master Chief, use the microdrone to see what’s around the bend,” he ordered.

“Aye aye, sir!” MacDonald immediately responded, pulling a tiny drone out of its casing. No larger than a fly, it was linked directly into the HUD in his space-armored suit. Controlling it via a simple neural interface, MacDonald willed the drone to fly around the corner. As it did see, both Singh and MacDonald could see through the return video feed that two League soldiers stood guard outside of the control room. Thankfully, neither were wearing power armor.

“How’d you want to do this, Captain?” MacDonald asked.

“I was thinking we use our silenced sidearms and shoot both of them in the head, using the drone’s feed for precise targeting. What about you?”

“Exactly what was going through my mind too, sir.”

“Excellent,” Singh replied. He drew his sidearm and attached a long suppressor to the end of the barrel. Once set, he glanced at MacDonald, who had done the same. “Execute.” He stepped forward at the same time as MacDonald and sighted down on the enemy soldier to his right, while MacDonald took the one on the left. Using the real-time information feed transmitted from the drone, he adjusted his aim by a couple of millimeters, and they fired at the same time. Both Leaguers dropped to the floor, killed instantly. The sound their bodies made hitting the deck was louder than the report of the two pistol shots.

“Tango down,” MacDonald commented, stepping forward with his sidearm still trained on his target. He expertly felt for a pulse from both men, before turning back toward Singh. “We’re clear.”

“Rostami,” Singh said into his suit’s communicator. “Get up here and get us into their network.”

A few moments later, Rostami came jogging around the junction in the passageway, his small tablet at the ready. Kneeling next to a data port, he plugged directly into the station’s network. “I’m in, sir. Give me a few minutes.”

Singh stood behind Rostami as he hammered away at the tablet, first obtaining access to the network by circumventing its firewalls, then using a set of captured League of Sol officer level credentials to log in to the primary operations system.

Rostami glanced backward. “Captain, I’m in. Good news and bad news. Good news is I’ve got full access. The bad news is this compartment doesn’t have direct atmospheric ventilation capability, nor is it close enough to the hull for us to use limpet mines to blow it out.”

Singh cursed under his breath. “Does it have a fire fighting system?”

Rostami nodded. “Yes, sir, it does. It’s a halon-based system... I see. Yes, I can trigger a false fire alarm and flood the control room with halon gas. We’ll need to lock this specific area out from communications traffic, though, or they’ll figure out what we’re up to when the call for help goes out.”

Singh pulled out a jamming device from his suit. “How about this? Reconfigure it to jam known League comms frequencies, instead of the frequencies they use to set off explosives.”

Rostami took the device and plugged another cable from it, into his tablet. “That’ll do, sir. Give me a few minutes.”

Singh watched his man work the tablet, his mind racing as to the time it was taking. The very soft report of two shots jolted him. A transmission to his commlink came through before he could ask what happened. “Captain, League security patrol neutralized. No alarms.”

“Hurry it up, Rostami,” Singh hissed.

With a final theatrical flourish, Rostami punched the last button on his tablet. “Atmosphere in the control room, neutralized. Communications jammed.”

The men suddenly heard pounding on the door and screaming from within the control room. Over the next couple of minutes, it subsided… then ceased altogether.

“Alpha and Beta teams, stack on me,” Singh commanded. The two commando teams lined up, weapons at the ready, with the point man of each team aiming their weapon at the doors of the control center. “Rostami, open it up.”

“Aye aye, sir!” the electronics expert replied, punching a button. The doors slid open quickly, revealing the control room within. There were bodies everywhere, and the commandos rushed in. A few unlucky survivors stirred; one had even made it to the weapons locker and withdrawn a sidearm. The commandos efficiently dispatched them with silenced shots, mostly to the head.

“Clear!” MacDonald shouted from one side of the room, while another commando tasked with the opposite side also shouted, “Clear!”

Rostami sat down at a central control console and went to work.

Singh glanced around the room. “Master Chief! Set up defensive positions on both exits and place some remote-controlled claymores in the surrounding passageways,” he shouted. While the explosives powering them and the projectiles expended had become more technologically advanced, old-fashioned claymore mines were still employed by the CDF. They remained highly effective anti-personnel weapons.

“Aye aye, sir!” MacDonald responded crisply. “Bravo team, take up defensive positions on the port exit. Alpha team, you take starboard.”

As the commandos filed out, Rostami fist-pumped the air in celebration. “I’m in, Captain. We’ve got operational control of the mines.”

For the first time since they launched on the mission, Singh relaxed ever so slightly; while there was still a tremendous battle to be fought, this piece was the most critical and hardest to execute successfully. They’d succeeded beyond his wildest expectations, coming this far without being discovered or losing anyone to enemy fire.

“PO,” Singh began, addressing Rostami by the abbreviation of his rank. “Signal the Lion of Judah on the high energy communication system, burst transmission. Inform them we’ve secured the minefield and they’re cleared to jump in.”

“Yes, sir!” Rostami replied with evident pride in his voice.

His pride is well deserved. The young man had been on the team for eight months and had just gotten out of his probationary period. He was, in the parlance of Space Special Warfare Command, a full-fledged tier-one operator. He’d come very far in the last eight months, and Singh hoped with continued experience, he would, in time, be an elite within the very elite. Now they just had to survive the next few hours and get off Unity Station alive.

27

David stared at the mission clock as it ticked ever onward. Several hours in, they’d yet to hear from the commandos. Anticipation was thick in the atmosphere of the bridge.

Taylor’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “Conn, Communications. I’ve got flash traffic from Captain Singh, sir. The minefield has been disabled!”

Shouts rang out across the bridge of the Lion of Judah, and even David was swept up in the excitement. After giving the bridge crew a moment to savor the success, he nodded to the master chief.

“As you were! Maintain proper bridge protocol!” Tinetariro barked.

The effect was immediate as quiet broke out almost as quickly as if a thunderclap had been heard.

David cleared his throat. “Okay, people, back on point. This is only the first step of many today. Communications, signal the fleet to prepare to jump back to Unity Station using the pre-arranged coordinates distributed earlier this morning.”

“Aye aye, sir!” Taylor replied crisply. “Conn, Communications. All command ships are reporting confirmation of your orders. The fleet awaits the final order to engage.”

David glanced forward to Hammond. “Navigation, confirm Lawrence drive coordinates.”

“Conn, Navigation. Coordinates confirmed and locked in, sir.”

“TAO, confirm high explosive rounds loaded into all magnetic cannons.”

“Conn, TAO. High explosive rounds loaded into all magnetic cannons, energy weapons capacitor is fully discharged,” Ruth replied.

David looked to Aibek. “Anything else, XO?”

Aibek shook his head. “I think we are ready, General. At least, this Saurian is.”

David cracked a smile. “Here we go. Communications, signal the fleet to jump as soon as we transit.”

“Aye aye, sir,” Taylor said.

“Navigation, engage Lawrence drive.”

“Aye aye, sir!” Hammond answered, engaging the massive Lawrence drive generators housed deep within the armored keel of the Lion. The lights on the bridge dimmed, and a vortex of swirling colors opened up in front of the mighty vessel. Once the artificial wormhole had stabilized, she engaged the sub-light engines, and the Lion picked up speed, entering the anomaly. A split second later, they emerged on the other side.

During the transit, David bowed his head and whispered a prayer in Hebrew, asking God to watch over the fleet and spare the lives of their soldiers, Marines and pilots if was His will. The first few seconds after a Lawrence drive jump were always spent on edge for him; blind and without sensors, they were sitting ducks for enemy ships. The stealthy drones from the Oxford had helped immensely in determining where they would jump in, but something was still left to chance.

“Conn, TAO. LIDAR online… numerous friendly contacts appearing all around us, sir. Unity Station is thirty thousand kilometers away, and we’re five thousand kilometers from the outer edge of the minefield. Unity Station now designated as Master One.”

“Status of enemy ships, TAO?” David asked.

“One moment, sir,” Ruth said as she waited for a full count to come in. “Sir, I’m showing three hundred and fifty-four enemy vessels, led by two Napoleon class carriers and six Alexander class battleships. Many escorts and small craft are present.”

“It would appear the Oxford’s observations were correct, Colonel,” Aibek commented.

“Yes, it would, XO. Let’s hope our luck continues to hold. We still need a few things to go our way.”

“Conn, Communications. I’ve got an incoming transmission from Unity Station. It’s Admiral Seville, sir.”

“Maybe he wants to gloat,” Aibek said with a smirk.

“Communications, put Admiral Seville on my viewer.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

A moment later, David’s personal viewer snapped on, showing the drab interior of Unity Station’s central control room, with Admiral Seville taking up most of the visible space. “Ah, we meet again, Colonel Cohen… oh, wait no, General Cohen! Congratulations on your promotion! Stepping over the body, as it were, of your former admiral?”

David’s face contorted; Seville was able to get under his skin in ways few men could. “Temporary rank, for this mission only, Admiral.”

“And what mission might that be, General?”

“Taking out your fleet and your space station,” David said with a hint of a smile.

“Have you forgotten our minefield? Your fleet doesn’t have enough missiles to clear it all out, though I’ll admit it was an inspired response to our new weapon.”

“Well, no, actually… as a matter of fact, we didn’t forget about your minefield.” David smiled widely. “However, I think you might find it’s no longer effective.”

David clicked off the communications channel from his chair as Aibek laughed. “I’d like him to sweat a little for once.”

“What’s the phrase you humans use about chickens and counting them?”

“Don’t count your chickens before they hatch,” Ruth intoned.

“Yes, that one,” Aibek said.

“Let’s find out for sure, XO. Navigation, intercept course, Master One.”

“Aye aye, sir,” Hammond immediately replied.

“Communications, signal the fleet to hold position,” David commanded while glancing toward Hammond. “Navigation, ETA to the minefield outer edge?”

“Forty-five seconds sir.”

“Conn, Communications. Receiving a transmission from Captain Singh.”

“On my viewer, Lieutenant!” David barked.

The viewer came alive, showing Singh with his helmet off. “Good to see you, General.”

“Likewise, Captain. What’s your status?”

“We’ve got the minefield in inactive mode, and our electronics expert has given us a couple of options. We can either try to flip the IFF receiver on Unity Station and configure the field to attack League ships or we can remotely destroy it.”

David and Aibek exchanged glances. “If we could use their own weapon against them…” he began before Singh interrupted him.

“Sir, that option will take some time. Destroying the field can be done as of now.”

“Navigation! Emergency stop, all back full,” David ordered.

“Aye aye, sir,” Hammond said as the ship bucked and the crew was thrown forward in their seats.

“It’s only a matter of time until Seville figures out what we’ve done,” David began. “Destroying the field now evens the playing field between our forces. Blow the field, Captain. Then find a good defensive location until the Marines arrive.”

“Understood, sir. We’ll detonate the field momentarily. Singh out.”

Aibek glanced at David. “I could see trying to flip the IFF, General.”

David shook his head. “Look at it like this, XO. We blow the field, the mines are off the table for either side. That’s a win for us because they distort the battlespace in favor of the League. If Captain Singh were able to change that IFF code, it would be a major win, yes. But if he failed and were overrun, then it’d be an absolute disaster.”

“Sometimes there is a place for daring, sir.”

“Yes, there is,” David admitted. “But not on this one. When I’m playing for all the marbles, I’ve got to be conservative.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

“Conn, Navigation. We’ve reached minimum safe distance, sir.”

“Navigation, all stop,” David ordered.

“All stop, aye.”

“Conn, TAO! Aspect change fore!”

David felt the ship begin to shake as Ruth was speaking.

“Thousands of mine detonations, sir! As far as our sensors can tell, that was every mine in the field!”

“Nice work, Captain Singh,” David said to no one in particular. “Well, fortune favors the bold. Navigation, take us in. Communications, signal the fleet to advance.”

The various stations responded affirmatively as David watched the tactical plot; however, there was another side effect of the mines all going off at the same time. It appeared their sensors were having a hard time penetrating the cloud of charged particles and ionization.

“TAO, you seeing the sensor distortions?” David asked.

“Yes, sir, I am. My assessment is our approach will be covered, but it’ll be hard for us to see them at the same time.”

“Which favors us yet again, General,” Aibek interjected. “Especially our Marine transports.”

“Yes, it does. Good news all the way around,” David commented, agreeing with his XO. He turned toward Taylor. “Lieutenant, I believe you have a shuttle to catch.”

“Thank you, sir. My relief is here and standing by,” Taylor replied.

David stood from his chair and made his way over to the communications station. “Lieutenant, I’d like to shake the hand of a brave man,” he said while extending his hand toward Taylor.

Taylor took the offered hand and shook warmly. “Thank you, sir.”

“Lieutenant, you’ve got nothing to prove. I hope you know that. I consider it an honor to serve with you, and I’m thankful you were posted to my ship.”

Taylor pursed his lips together. “That means a lot coming from you, sir. Sometimes we have to prove something to ourselves, though.”

“Just come back in one piece, Lieutenant. There’s a lot of League transmissions left to crack once we start pushing toward Earth.”

“I’ll do my best, sir,” Taylor said while David took note of the beads of sweat apparent on his forehead.

“Good luck, and Godspeed.”

Taylor offered a final nod in David’s direction before turning and walking out of the bridge with purpose.

David watched him go, then strode back to his chair and sat down with a sigh. “I hope I don’t regret letting him do this, XO.”

“Lieutenant Taylor is a warrior. All warriors must sometimes answer the call.”

“I just want him to come back in one piece.”

“The Prophet’s will be done,” Aibek said with finality.

* * *

Simultaneously onboard Unity Station, Admiral Pierre Seville was sitting in stunned shock, observing the aftermath of his secret weapon being destroyed. Damn these religious fanatics! He fumed mentally but kept the sentiment bottled up inside; it wouldn’t do for his underlings to see him out of control.

“Captain Monet!” Seville shouted. “How did they do that?”

Monet’s face turned ashen. “Admiral, we can’t raise the technicians in charge of the mines on internal communication systems. Station security is responding.”

Seville stood, immediately on guard. “Captain, scan for communications jammers on the lower decks.”

“Sir, it is highly unlikely—” Astrid began.

“Don’t tell me what’s unlikely, just do it.”

Astrid nodded to the crewman whose station she stood over. After a moment, the results came up on the screen. “Admiral… we appear to have an enemy force on board.”

“Forget your internal security forces. They’ll be going up against the Terran Coalition’s finest space-based commandos and will be nothing more than cannon fodder. Get power-armored Marines suited up and in there as fast as you can. Save the security forces for the invasion of this station that is undoubtedly to come.”

“Admiral, you’re overreacting,” Astrid stated, her voice low and betraying her worry at the escalating situation.

“Overreacting? Overreacting would be to have you shot for your incompetence on the spot, Captain. Our sensors are blind. If I were the Terran commander, I’d use this opportunity to get as close as possible, deploy my Marines, and then turn aside to engage the fleet. We may be fighting against religious fanatics and people who can’t see reason and logic, but that doesn’t mean they’re not good at their business. Never underestimate this enemy!” Seville thundered.

“Aye aye, sir,” Astrid replied as she pulled herself up to her full height. “What are your orders, Admiral?”

“Signal my flagship to return. I intend to take command of her and engage the enemy fleet in ship-to-ship combat. While you’re at it, tell the rest of our fleet to return at once. We can still catch them in a pincer movement and crush the Terran Coalition once and for all. The Saurians along with them too.”

“Aye aye, sir!” Astrid parroted back to him and moved off.

Strappi walked up to Seville and quietly spoke into his ear. “Admiral, I fear our fleet may take too long getting here. Most ships are still in the cool-off period following a jump.”

“I share your fear, Colonel. But we must act with the tools remaining at our disposal. Be sure you join me when the Annihilator returns,” Seville whispered back.

“Of course, sir.” Strappi touched a closed fist to his chest in the salute of the League.

* * *

A few minutes later, Singh got the first indication the League was alerted to their presence when he got a communication call from Charlie team.

“Alpha leader, this is Charlie leader. Goliaths just engaged us. We’re holding position.”

Singh scanned his eyes around the control room. “It would appear they’ve finally figured out they have some uninvited guests onboard, gentlemen. Prepare for close quarters combat.”

“Alpha leader, this is Charlie leader. We’ve got a company-sized force engaging us. Request permission to fall back to the control room and activate our claymores.”

Singh quickly answered, “Permission granted, Charlie leader. Double time back to the control room. Delta leader, head on a swivel. I expect them to hit us from both sides.”

A moment later, Singh heard the loud report of the claymores going off, and the room shuddered, just a tad. He knew they could hold off the League troops for a time, but without a planned egress point, they had to wait for reinforcements. Until then, they’d have to hold the line.

“Master Chief,” Singh said toward MacDonald. “Prep all teams for defense. We can soak up a lot of fire in here if we plan our lanes of fire right.”

“Aye aye, sir!” MacDonald yelled back at him, already assisting another commando in moving a console they’d laser cut out of its mounting platform.

Singh switched communication frequencies to the CDF fleet channel and cued up a high energy burst. “This is Captain Singh to General Cohen on the Lion of Judah. We’ve been discovered. Our teams will hold until the Marines arrive. Singh out.”

28

David stared at the tactical plot in the big holographic projection array on the bridge of the Lion of Judah, bathed in blue light. There just wasn’t enough data to tell him what was going on outside of the ship. CDF combat doctrine focused around having superior information, superior training, and excellent management of the battlespace. The only thing going for them right now was their training. Weapons fire was being exchanged at extremely long range, but he doubted either side was hitting much of anything except by blind luck. He’d ordered all missiles prepped for combat, but specifically disallowed their launch from all ships in the fleet. At least until local space conditions improved and the sensor packages were able to track their targets once again.

“TAO, any improvement in sensor resolution?” David asked.

“Marginal, sir, we still can’t determine where the enemy is with a close enough margin to get an affirmative firing solution.”

David grinned. “That means they can’t shoot at us either, TAO. Distance to Master One?”

“Best guess, less than ten thousand kilometers, sir.”

“Communications, get me Colonel Demood.”

“Aye aye, sir. Patching him in for you, sir,” the backup communications officer replied.

A moment later, David heard Calvin’s voice coming out of the speaker on his chair. “General, what can I do for you?”

“You ready to light up some Leaguers, Colonel?” David asked.

“Anytime, anywhere, always ready, always there, General,” Calvin said, his cocky Marine attitude shining through brightly.

“We’re ten thousand klicks off the enemy station, and neither side’s sensors can penetrate the background radiation effects from setting off a few thousand mines. We’re not getting a better chance to send you in. We received a burst communication from Captain Singh not too long ago… things are heating up over there, and his boys need your help. Your mission remains the same: storm Unity Station, capture it for the Terran Coalition. And if you find Seville, bring him back, dead or alive.”

“Understood, General. I’ll send some Marines to bail out our commandos, and we’ll press the attack.”

“Good hunting, Colonel, and Godspeed. Cohen out.”

“Same to you, General. Demood out.”

David leaned back in his chair, looking out of the transparent metal windows that were directly ahead of the tactical and navigation stations.

“You want to be out there with them, don’t you?” Aibek asked in a quiet voice that didn’t carry, far from his usual jovial tone.

“Yeah, I do, XO. I know my place is on the bridge, overseeing the battle as a whole. But I’d like to be on the sharp tip of the spear for this one. There’s a part of me that would like to personally even the score with Seville,” David replied in an equally quiet and somber tone.

“Aren’t you always telling us not to let it get personal, and not to give in to hating the League?”

David grinned sheepishly. “Yes, I do. It’s good advice… and I think we all struggle to take and use it. Dehumanizing our enemy is the first step to hating them. I’ve always tried to avoid taking the first step down that dark road.”

“Time to launch our fighters, I believe, sir.”

David glanced at Aibek and nodded. “I concur. Communications, patch me in to Colonel Amir.”

* * *

Major Richard Hume sat in the cockpit of his SF-106 Phantom, having just completed the pre-flight checklist. The entire air group was on alert five, and they’d run through their pre-flight checklists every thirty minutes to ensure all craft were ready for launch. He glanced over the readiness report in his HUD for the squadron of fighters he inherited when he accepted the role of temporary XO for the Lion’s flight wing. Nicknamed the Black Cats, they had a respectable kill-to-loss ratio but suffered the death of both the squadron commander and her XO. Plugging pilots from other squadrons into the holes left, he felt they were as in good a fighting shape as they could hope for.

Amir’s voice cut into his communications feed. “Major Hume, can you read me?”

“Affirmative, Colonel Amir.”

“Are you ready?” Amir asked.

“Yes, sir. Black Cats are ready to purr,” Hume said with a slight laugh; squadron names could be so odd. “The wing is in better shape than anyone honestly had the right to expect, Colonel.”

“I agree. I hope to see you again when we’re done here today.”

“That makes two of us, Colonel.”

“I meant to ask you, Major, I’ve never seen a flag like the one on your shoulder. What state is it from?”

“It's not from a nation-state. It’s the flag of the Knights Hospitaller, which is a Catholic military order. We trace our lineage to the seventh century AD on Earth.”

“Our ancestors once fought each other, then,” Amir observed.

“I don’t know, sir. It’s not a hereditary order, but I suppose it’s possible. A pity it took having to flee Earth for us to figure out we’re not each other’s enemy, though.”

“I can’t imagine a world in which people of faith fight each other.”

“Thankfully, we don’t have to, Colonel. We do, though, get to fight for our right to have faith in the first place.”

There was a pause in the conversation as Amir clicked off the communications channel. He returned a few moments later. “Major, General Cohen has given the order to launch. We’ll go in the pre-planned order. Black Knights first, followed by the Black Cats. Insula Allah, and good hunting!” Amir said in his rich baritone voice with just a trace of Arabian accent to his English.

“Understood, sir. Good hunting and Godspeed!”

Hume clicked the communications channel over to his squadron. “Attention, all pilots, the order has been given. Stand by to launch! Sensor conditions are still horrible, so we’ll be flying by the seat of our pants. Stay close to each other, watch out for our fellows, and we’ll come home together. Hume out.”

In a few minutes, Hume would be hurtling through space at incredible speeds, doing his best to stay alive, and also to kill every enemy pilot on the battlefield he could find and engage. In the time between being ordered to launch and being able to, he took the time to put his mind and soul at ease.

“Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle,” Hume began to pray. “Be our defense against the wickedness and snares of the Devil. May God rebuke him, we humbly pray. Lend me, Lord, Your powerful aid in every difficulty and above all do not forsake me in my last struggle with the powers of evil manifested in the League of Sol. Amen.”

As Hume finished the prayer and looked back at his HUD, the launch light turned green, and a second later, his fighter was zipping down the tube pulling 15-Gs. As he was thrust into space, the proximity alarm sounded, causing him more than a moment’s concern, which faded when he realized the sensors were so confused, they couldn’t tell where anything was. Craning his neck around to maintain situational awareness, a general vector order was given from Amir’s fighter, and the Black Cats zoomed off in the direction indicated. They quickly closed the range with Unity Station; it was such a mammoth-sized installation, they didn’t need a computer system to make it out against the black of space.

Steadily closing the distance, Hume watched as the wings from the Lion of Judah, and all remaining carriers, fanned out across space. Some escorted the Marine transports and shuttles, others flew close support to the bomber squadrons. Still others, including his squadron, searched for enemy fighters to engage.

Streaks of red plasma balls shooting by his cockpit were the first indication League fighters had found them; looking up and into the direction enemy fire was coming from, Hume could make out a group of League interceptors. Pulling up on his flight stick, he adjusted his fighter so it was pointing at the enemy, before triggering his communication system. “Cats, break relative up, the enemy is less than five hundred kilometers away. Weapons free!”

Following the plasma balls back to their source, Hume pulled the trigger on his miniature neutron cannons, sending beams of blue energy searing toward the enemy craft. At the range they were at, there was almost no way to aim, given the lack of accurate sensor data. A League fighter exploded, and Hume couldn’t be entirely sure if it were his shots or one of the others in his squadron… but a kill was a kill.

“Not sure who got that one, but good shooting, lads. Full volley fire! Right down their throats!” Hume roared into the communications system.

With two wingmen in close formation next to him, Hume pushed up the throttle to maximum burn, feeling the G forces push him back into his seat. For just a moment, his targeting computer cleared, and he had a split-second lock on a League fighter flying right at him. Muscle memory took over, and he pulled the firing trigger back. He was rewarded with a quickly destroyed League interceptor exploding into a bright orange fireball.

“Cat one, kill one League interceptor!” Hume called into the squadron communication channel. Looping his fighter around, he scanned space visually for another target, while realizing that one of his fighters had been destroyed by enemy fire, its icon blinking red, indicating a total loss of vehicle. I can’t believe that at some point in the distant past, fighter pilots fought like this. I feel entirely blind out here without our technology. He glanced around, straining to see the enemy.

“Cat one, this is Cat eleven, I’ve got a flight of three League interceptors coming across our formation. They’re angling for your six!”

Warned, Hume pulled back hard on his flight stick while hitting the accelerator to the maximum thrust position. Pulling 17-Gs, he rocketed around in space, inverting his position and flying back toward the League interceptors. He pulled the firing trigger and prayed that his weapons fire would find its target. While he didn’t hit any bandits, one of his wingmen, who looped around slower, took advantage of the disoriented League pilots and knocked all three out, one after the other. Checking over his squadron status display, he noted another icon was blinking red.

“Cat leader, this is Cat eleven. I think that’s all of em. Scratch one League squadron!”

Twelve to two; not a bad rate of exchange. What is a good kill ratio, when two more people were snuffed out by an all-consuming war? “Hail Mary, full of grace. The Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou amongst women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen,” Hume whispered as he rolled his fighter and pointed it back toward Unity Station, searching for more League craft to engage.

29

Singh ducked behind the doors of the control room they were holed up in; incoming energy weapons fire smacked the frame of the door and the air around him. Ejecting an empty magazine from his battle rifle, he reloaded with a magazine of armor piercing ammunition. He glanced across the doorway at MacDonald. “Ready, Master Chief?”

“Frogmen are always ready, Captain,” MacDonald replied, invoking the old term for sea-based commando teams.

“Shoot them down!” Singh ordered. He leaned back and fired his battle rifle in full auto mode. At the range they were at, he couldn’t miss; the rounds punched through the Goliath suits like they didn’t exist. A dozen League Marines collapsed under the weight of their combined onslaught. Peering down the passageway, he could see dozens more right behind them.

“Rostami!” Singh shouted. “How’re you coming with gaining access to the stations’ security system?”

“I’m not, sir. They’ve cut all links between this room and the central computing core!” the electronics expert shouted back above the din of battle.

“Then get the automatic grenade launcher and get over here!”

A stray energy blast caught one of the commandos in the helmet as he perched behind a console and fired on the enemy. The commando next for him called for a medic, but Singh had been in more than enough firefights to know there was no hope for that kind of wound.

Rostami picked up the forty-millimeter grenade launcher and dragged the ammo bag for it with him, over to Singh’s position. “I’m thinking we use beehive rounds at this range, sir.” Beehives was a nickname for what amounted to grenades filled with hundreds of armor-piercing flechettes. The flechettes were coated in a sturdy artificial material, which made them highly effective as an armor-piercing weapon.

“Agreed, PO. Let’s wait for the next wave, then light the Leaguer bastards up.”

They didn’t have to wait long; within seconds, another wave of League Marines in their gleaming battle armor rounded the corner. It was almost like shooting ducks in a barrel as Rostami stepped forward, and the whump-whump-whump of the grenade launcher sounded. The flechettes shredded the incoming Leaguers, decimating their ranks and causing the rest to scurry for cover as fast as they could. Finishing out the six-round rotating cylinder of death, Rostami picked off most of the survivors with well-placed grenades.

Taking advantage of the lull in the battle, MacDonald made his way to Singh. “Captain, how long you think they’re going to keep throwing bodies at us?”

“My thoughts exactly, Master Chief. Even the worst Leaguer commander is smarter than to send his troops piecemeal into the buzzsaw of the best we have to offer… something else is going on here.”

As Singh finished his thought, there was a loud explosion that rocked the room, from the opposite side end of it. The lights suddenly went out, which wasn’t a problem as the heads up displays in their helmets immediately engaged night vision. After that, though, everything went nuts. Another explosion erupted from directly above them, and Singh heard someone—he couldn’t tell who thanks to the concussive blasts—shout, “Stun grenades!” He triggered the light filter in his helmet just in time; multiple stun grenades went off, temporarily blinding many of the commandos.

League Marines fast-roped down from the ceiling; the explosion opened up a hole they jumped down from, while more Leaguers rushed both entry doors. Momentarily stunned, he rolled to his right side as bullets found his power-armor suit. Picking up a squad automatic weapon from a soldier who’d dropped it, he stood and unleashed the machine gun on full automatic, sweeping the enemy troops with armor-piercing rounds.

MacDonald added to the mix with his battle rifle, using precise three-round bursts to fell each Leaguer he sighted down on. Between the two of them, the fusillade caused enough pause amongst their attackers for the remaining commandos to reset their helmets and rejoin the fight. It only took forty-five seconds to regain control, but dozens of combatants were killed on both sides.

The eerie silence after combat is deafening. What had just happened would have broken the unit cohesion of literally any other combat unit. But Space Special Warfare Command operators weren’t any other combat unit. Singh and MacDonald made eye contact, then scanned the room as those who remained alive took stock of the situation. There were several injured, but thankfully, they still had a medic.

MacDonald walked over after completing a quick assessment of the wounded and motioned to Singh. “Captain… we’ve got eight KIA and three wounded but able to fight. I believe this position is compromised beyond our ability to hold it.”

Singh nodded. “I completely agree, Master Chief. We’re going to break out. The question is which way do we go,” he said and sighed. “Get two three-man teams. See which side has the most resistance. That’s our way out.”

MacDonald raised an eyebrow. “The most resistance, sir?”

“Whoever is in charge on the other side is pretty good for a Leaguer. They’ll try to bait us into another trap. I’m not falling for the same trick twice.”

“Aye aye, sir. And the rest?”

“Hold this area until we get the recon back. I want to be out of here in five minutes. While you’re handling that, I’ll be on the horn. We need some help from our own Marines.”

* * *

Sitting up in the cockpit with the warrant officer flying his assault shuttle, Calvin had a bird’s eye view of the battlefield, at least as much of it as they could with half the sensors not working. Technology not working right was something that soldiers and especially Marines confronted daily, but for once, it was a positive thing. Fewer of my Marines are dying because of it, whereas we usually die because some idiot nerd didn’t test a piece of equipment properly, pure freaking irony right there.

“Colonel, I’m getting a distress call I think you’ll want to hear,” the pilot said, glancing at him briefly.

“Put it on, Warrant.”

A few moments later, the voice of Captain Singh could be heard from the speakers in the pilot. “…again, we are under heavy attack! To any friendly ground forces in the area, we require immediate assistance! This is Captain Rajneesh Singh, to any friendlies!”

Calvin quickly keyed his in-helmet microphone into the same communications frequency that Singh was transmitting on. “Captain Singh, this is Colonel Demood. Do I hear correctly that you could use some help from your very own Terran Coalition Marine Corps?”

“Colonel… your voice is a welcome one! We’ve taken significant casualties but broke out of the enemy’s encirclement. That’s the good news. The bad news is there are at least a hundred Goliaths chasing us.”

“Warrant, this tub has rockets loaded, right?” Calvin asked.

“Yes, sir, it does. Full complement.”

“Singh, how close are you guys to the external hull of the station?”

“We’re one passageway back from it, Colonel. I already thought about evaccing through an airlock, but we don’t have enough time,” Singh replied.

“Different idea. I want you to lead the enemy to the corridor closest to the hull, engage your magnetic boots in overdrive, and I’m going to take care of your Goliath problem for you, with some on-point rocket fire.”

There was a pregnant pause before Singh spoke again. “We knew this op was high risk to begin with, Colonel. Make sure that old Marine Corps equipment of yours hits its target, and not us,” Singh replied with a short laugh.

“You got it, Singh,” Calvin said with forced joviality. “Warrant, vector us into the communications signal being transmitted by Captain Singh. We’ll use it to home our rockets in.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

* * *

Incoming rounds slapped the thin walls of the passageway they were running down, mere inches away from Singh’s head. Not bothering to look back, he pointed his battle rifle behind him and emptied the magazine. Turning the corner, he came to a stop. The rest of his team had already taken up position and were firing on the pursuing Leaguers.

Using the advanced sensors in his suit, Singh counted over a Goliath suits chasing them. MacDonald and the surviving commandos kept up a constant stream of fire aimed at the Leaguers, but the enemy remaining were the ones who knew how to fight. They were making themselves small targets, taking advantage of cover whenever possible, and firing in short bursts. Half his team was dead; the worst loss total for any deployed Terran Coalition tier one operator team that Singh could remember. But defeating the League today will make it all worth it.

“Demood, if you’re ready with the John Wayne shit, now would be a perfect time! We’ve got company-strength hostiles pinned down in the passageway closest to the hull, as requested,” Singh practically shouted into his helmet mic on the open communication link with Calvin’s shuttle.

“Understood. Engage your magnetic boots,” came Calvin’s reply, garbled through the din of battle.

“Engage magnetic boots, maximum hold!” Singh shouted at his team through the internal comms network of their suits. As his team’s indicators flashed green for understood and acknowledged in his helmet’s HUD, he shouted, “We’re set. Do it, Colonel!”

A few moments later, there was a terrific series of explosions, and the hull of the space station peeled back, exposing the corridor ahead to the vacuum. Leaguers disappeared into the void by the dozens, some killed by the concussive force of the rockets, some unprepared for the quick change in pressure and unable to grab hold of something before they were violently sucked out of the station. Only a few of them were able to engage their magnetic boots; those that did so were dazed and confused.

“Finish them off, frogmen!” Singh shouted as he led the charge, firing his battle rifle in short bursts. The rest of the team advanced after him, and within a few seconds, they’d cleared most of the area. A Leaguer at the far end of the passageway had his rifle up and was attempting to return fire. Singh raised his rifle and engaged the integrated combat optics system, sighting in on the unlucky man’s head. “Alpha Mike Foxtrot,” he uttered as he pulled the trigger. The Leaguer collapsed a moment later, quite dead. He dimmed the reflective shield of his helmet, which exposed his blood-smeared face. “What a rush.”

“With respect, sir, you’re nuts,” MacDonald said.

“Got to be to do this job.”

“Never said I wasn’t.”

Singh laughed. “Let’s go find the Terran Coalition’s misguided children and lend a hand.”

30

Official TCMC battle doctrine indicated that the highest-level commanding officer should be present on the battlefield as soon as humanly possible; a principle to which Calvin adhered to like it was gospel. I’ve got no interest in hanging in the back, when I can be shooting Leaguers. He stepped off the end of the shuttle. His command element was with him, and there were hundreds of Marines present, in the middle of setting up a forward base of operations. They had set up shop in one of the massive shuttle bays onboard Unity Station and had cleared out the former occupants and the League’s hardware, in some cases shoving the League shuttles out of the bay and into space. There were at least a dozen Marine transports already present, and more were landing every few minutes.

“Colonel on deck!” a master gunnery sergeant yelled out.

“Carry on!”

His temporary second in command, Captain Michi Kurosawa, jogged up to meet him. “Colonel, hope you had a good ride in. We’ve got a perimeter set up and are steadily expanding outward from it,” Kurosawa said, in perfect English. The red circle on a white background for his country flag indicated the captain was from the Empire of New Japan, a planet with a small population of two hundred million, in comparison to other former nations from Earth. The Japanese had relatively few citizens evacuated from Earth during the exodus, Calvin recalled from his schooling.

“Good work, Captain. We need to focus on the areas of the station that are critical to its operation rather than just claiming ground.”

“Yes, sir, if you’ll follow me, sir, the command operations center is this way.”

Calvin followed Kurosawa over to a cluster of holoprojectors, and a large electronic table, which had a 3D rendering of the station projected from it. There were other Marines in the area, configuring sensor displays and various computer systems. “Glad to see we got the comm geeks in here.”

Taylor turned around from a display he was configuring. “That’s Lieutenant Comm Geek, sir.”

Calvin laughed out loud, strode over to Taylor, and slapped him on the back. “Glad you made it.”

“A bit of a rough ride.”

“Makes a man out of you, Lieutenant,” Calvin said with a genuine smile. The smile faded as Kenneth Lowe and Harold Billings rounded the corner, carrying boxes marked as part of the computer equipment suite. “And what are you ladies doing here? Got lost on the way to the showers?”

Kenneth openly rolled his eyes at Calvin. “Already had one this morning, Colonel,” he replied in a cheerful tone. “Thought I’d help get the operations center up before getting assigned to a unit.”

“Going to set up our toilets next?”

“No, sir. I was going to see about sending out some of your crack troops to get me some cable stretchers to help put this gear together, though.”

Calvin paused, then laughed, turning to Reuben Menahem, his senior enlisted aide. “Well, I’ll be damned. These boys know what a snipe hunt is. Why don’t you go find us some hydraulic blinker fluid for the shuttle’s engines while you’re at it, Kenny boy?”

“We could get you a bucket of shuttle wash instead?” Kenneth replied, taking the ribbing in stride.

“Tell you what, Lieutenant,” Calvin said, speaking directly to Taylor. “We’ll get the comm geeks platoon going here. Have our techy contractor friends fall in with you and try not to get killed.”

“Aye aye, sir,” Taylor answered crisply.

“Do we have tactical data from the command and control network integrated into this display yet?” Calvin asked.

Kenneth punched a few buttons into a computer console he’d just attached, and a multitude of blue and red dots appeared. “There you go, sir. That’s as close to a true common operating picture as we’ll get under these circumstances.”

“I guess we keep you guys around for a reason,” Calvin said while nodding. “Nice job.” He stepped closer and examined the model of the station. He pointed at the reactor core in the center of the station. “Primary reactor?”

“That’s my assessment, sir,” Taylor responded.

“Primary and secondary control rooms?”

Manipulating the control panel for the display, Taylor caused several rooms to blink. “The central control room for the station is at the very top of the tower. There’re eight different secondary control rooms, and engineering has its own set of backup controls. If I may, sir, what are you thinking?”

“Well, the fleet could use some help out there. I figure us Marines could bail them out by taking control of this monstrosity and using its weapons against the League ships out there.”

“That’d be some irony,” Kenneth interjected.

Calvin turned and gave him a glowering look.

“It won’t be easy, sir,” Taylor said. “Even if we take over all of those points, gaining access to the system will be difficult. But minimally, we’d be able to stop the station from firing on friendly forces simply by there being no one to man the consoles and fire the weapons. I’d expect us to find the League systems have extensive biometric defenses, just like ours.”

“If it were easy, they wouldn’t send the Marines, Lieutenant. I want a plan together in the next fifteen minutes on how we can make this happen. Clear?” Those standing around quickly acknowledged Calvin with a round of crisp “Aye aye, sirs” and quickly got back to work. Sitting down at an empty terminal, he began a review of which shuttles had made it and which hadn’t. The vast majority of their forces had safely arrived, but the League had managed to knock down six shuttles… another hundred and twenty Marines dead.

A sudden interruption in the form of Captain Rajneesh Singh’s voice jolted Calvin out of his thoughts. “Captain Singh reports as ordered, Colonel!” He held his hand to his brow in a textbook perfect salute.

Calvin stood up quickly, glancing at the commando and what was left of his team; twelve men, their battle armor pock-marked and burned in various places, but their heads held high. It was clear they were still full of fight. He brought his hand up to his brow and returned Singh’s salute. “Good show out there, Captain. We’ve got you to thank for this opportunity.”

Singh smiled broadly. “Did the Terran Coalition’s misguided children just offer up some praise to a non-Marine unit?”

“Don’t push your luck, Captain.”

Singh laughed before his expression turned somber. “We’re at half strength, sir. I recommend splitting us into two elements and sending them on critical missions.”

“Agreed, Singh. Divide your men up into two teams, and I’ll put them where the enemy is strongest. One team’s coming with me, though.”

“What’d you have in mind, sir?”

“How about smashing the League’s control room and capturing that piece of shit Seville?”

Singh, and every commando with him seemed to come alive at the mention of capturing Seville. “Dead or alive?”

“Who cares. As long as we can get a positive ID on the body.”

Singh grunted. “Understood, sir. I’ll sort out the teams, and we’ll stock up. There’s a long fight in front of us.”

“Carry on, Captain.”

Singh acknowledged his command with a nod, turned on his heel, and walked off with the rest of the commandos, leaving Calvin back in his thoughts, staring at the projection of the League station. “Lieutenant Taylor, any chance you can work some comms geek magic and hack the League control system, locking them out if we take one of those access points?”

“No, sir. They’ll have redundant backups. The only way to shut down this station is to take over all its control rooms. Even then, it might not be enough. For instance, they might have a fourth or fifth level control system in the reactor core or local weapons control. To own this place, we’ll need the access codes from the commanding officer.”

“Captain Kurosawa,” Calvin began, and Kurosawa looked in his direction attentively. “I want our forces to advance along three main fronts,” he continued, pointing at main passageways that ran from port to starboard, and fore to aft in the space station. “If we can secure these five checkpoints,” he said, again pointing at several key junctions that would afford them easy access to control points. “We’ll be able to simultaneously assault most of their control centers at the same time. Agreed?”

“Yes, Colonel,” Kurosawa answered.

“Good. I want three assault elements, two reserve elements. Oh, and take the comm geeks with you. Once we’ve taken control of everything but the station’s main bridge, we’ll meet up and storm it. Questions?”

“No, sir,” Taylor replied, crisp and sure. “We’ll get it done.”

“I don’t doubt it, Lieutenant. Move out!”

31

Concurrently on the bridge of Lion of Judah, they were in the middle of heavy combat against the League fleet. David noted with satisfaction the League escorts had taken significant losses, especially among their remaining Cobra class destroyers.

“Conn, TAO. Master Fifty-six destroyed,” Ruth announced from her station while the tactical plot updated to show one less League ship.

David planned to slowly degrade the escorts surrounding the League’s carriers and battleships while avoiding unnecessary losses. So far, it’s working. “TAO, firing point procedures, forward magnetic cannons, and neutron beams, Master Sixty-eight,” he commanded, picking the next closest destroyer to target.

“Firing solutions set, sir.”

“TAO, match bearings, shoot, all weapons, Master Sixty-eight.”

David’s eyes were glued to the tactical plot as the Lion’s weapons package thundered in the deep of space. The Cobra class destroyer was hit by six of the nine magnetic cannon rounds fired at her and nearly disabled before the neutron beams connected. One speared the ship from stem to stern, causing explosions throughout the ship.

“Conn, TAO! Master Sixty-eight neutralized sir.”

“Sir, we’ve eliminated twenty-five percent of the League’s escorts,” Aibek pointed out. “Don’t you think we should move in for the kill?”

“Not yet, XO,” David said, still staring at the tactical plot. “Seville’s got something else up his sleeve. His flagship isn’t deployed. I don’t intend to get caught between whatever he’s cooking and the station. We’ll sit back, pick these guys off, and let the good admiral come to us. Then we’ll make our moves.”

“I do not want us to be too conservative now, when victory is at stake.”

“Noted, XO,” David replied as he cracked a smile. “I promise, by the end of the day, you won’t have any complaints in that department.”

“Conn, TAO. Aspect change, new contacts. Behemoth class League Dreadnought, designated Master Three hundred fifty-five, escorted by eight Rand class cruisers and numerous Cobra class destroyers sir!”

“And right on cue, there’s our good admiral’s flagship. Unless I miss my mark, he’ll take personal command of her,” David stated. “Communications, signal the fleet. Order them to move forward in tandem with our battlegroup, but specifically, caution to maintain the rough semi-circle we’re in. I don’t want any surprises.”

“Aye, sir,” the second watch communications officer, Second Lieutenant Jefferson Bell, replied.

“Navigation, ahead one third.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

“TAO, firing point procedures, Master One-oh-eight, Master Two Hundred Fifteen, and Master One Ninety-three, magnetic cannons, and neutron beams,” David ordered, targeting the next line of League escorts, which protected their battleships and carriers.

“Firing solutions set, sir.”

“Match bearings, shoot, all weapons.”

The giant magnetic cannons on the Lion of Judah spoke as one, sending massive projectiles flying across space at ten percent of the speed of light. Slamming into the comparatively weak shields of the League frigates, the high explosive rounds hammered them down, leaving the trio of frigates defenseless for the directed energy weapons fire that followed. Two of the frigates outright exploded, the third was reduced to a cripple, drifting in space and venting atmosphere.

“Conn, TAO. Targets neutralized, sir.”

David opened his mouth to give the next engagement order, but Ruth cut in before he could.

“Conn, TAO! Aspect change! Sub-light engine light off. League fleet is moving at flank speed, directly at our battle line!”

“They mean to cut the engagement range and overwhelm us,” Aibek said, glancing at the plot himself.

“Thankfully, we didn’t have to expend our missiles on the way in to clear out the mines, XO. Communications, signal the missile cruisers and the Saurian battleships to link all active missiles in their tubes to our tactical network.”

“Aye aye, sir,” Jefferson replied.

“TAO, prioritize all incoming targets, and link them to the battlespace awareness system. Target our own forward and aft VRLS against that list as well.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

“Sir, the fleet reports all missiles are ready to fire, and we have a confirmed network link,” Jefferson interjected.

“TAO, firing point procedures, prioritized target list, all available missiles, make tubes one through two hundred and forty ready in all respects and open the outer doors.”

“Firing solutions confirmed, sir. Tubes one through two hundred and forty ready in all respects.”

“Match bearings, shoot, all missiles,” David said, his voice rising in pitch.

Ruth pressed down on the button that would not only fire the two hundred and forty missiles that the Lion of Judah had ready to shoot, but another eight hundred missiles from across the cruisers and battleships that possessed VRLS launchers in the fleet. It took all of her concentration to ensure the launches were successfully vectored toward the right targets; and this was with most of the real work being done by the computers and the battle management system contained within their CIC.

“Conn, TAO. All missiles running hot, straight, and normal, sir.”

David stared at the tactical plot on the monitor above his screen, while the ship shook as it took repeated hits from League plasma cannon fire. Masses of icons, overwhelming the screen, popped into existence as the launch occurred. For several seconds, there was information overload as the tactical system tried to process all of the incoming data. Then groups of missiles broke off and began tracking separate enemy vessels. David watched with grim satisfaction as the icons belonging to League ships began to blink out, one after another. It took five minutes for the volley to press home completely, but in that time, numerous League vessels were destroyed.

Departing from bridge protocol, Ruth turned to look back at David with a fierce warrior’s stare. “Sir, seventy-two League ships destroyed.”

David allowed himself to nod, trying not to take pleasure in the sight of all those League ships, reduced to constituent atoms. “That’ll even up the score a bit, Lieutenant. Outstanding shooting.”

Ruth’s face turned to a grin. “Yes, sir.”

“Now let’s finish the job,” David said to the bridge at large.

* * *

Meanwhile, Amir was matching a League fighter move for move as he tried to line up a missile shot. Sensor conditions had improved to the point that LIDAR guided munitions now functioned, but they still went wide and didn’t hit the target more than he’d normally expect. At last, the missile tone sounded, and his SF-106 Phantom gained positive lock. “Knight One, Fox Three!”

The missile leapt away from Amir’s fighter, quickly reaching its homing speed of ten thousand kilometers an hour. He kept turning with the League fighter, so if the enemy craft survived his assault, he’d be lined up for another shot. As it turned out, he wouldn’t need to take it. The missile connected and blew the League fighter apart in a bright orange fireball that existed only for a moment as the oxygen reserves on the doomed craft burned.

“Splash one! Splash one bandit!” Amir called into the comm, his battle spirit coming alive. He’d been greatly affected by the loss of so many pilots, many of them friends, in the battle three days prior. Delivering payback wouldn’t bring those fine men and women back from the dead, but it would help settle the debt he felt the League owed.

“This is CSV Roger Hamilton to all friendly fast movers!” A voice Amir didn’t recognize broke into his comms net with an emergency transmission; his flight computer verified it as coming from the CSV Roger Hamilton, a Meade class frigate. “We’re tracking an inbound flight of fifty plus bandits. I say again, fifty plus bandits. It looks like they are attempting to knock a hole in our point-defense picket protecting the heavy cruisers and battleships. Request immediate assistance from any friendlies in range!”

Amir immediately cued his comms channel to reply. “Roger Hamilton, this is Lion of Judah CAG, Hassan Amir. My squadron and I are on our way to assist you, requesting a live tactical network link.”

A moment later, the link was established. “Done, Colonel Amir. Any assistance you can provide will be much appreciated.”

“I will try to drive them into the kill zone of your automated point defenses,” Amir replied. “Allu Ackbar!” As he was speaking, Amir rolled his fighter and rotated its facing toward a flight vector that would take him on an intercept course to the League craft. “Black Knights, this is Knight One. Form up on my wing and stand by for maximum thrust.”

Amir waited as the rest of his squadron formed up into three “finger-four” formations, which allowed for maximum fire support from wingmen to the flight leaders. “Push it up, Knights!” he roared into the comms, then simultaneously pushed his throttle up to one hundred percent and kicked in the afterburners. Designed to provide a short-term boost to speed, the afterburners used fuel at a prodigious rate. The range closed rapidly, and his onboard sensors began to sort out what they were up against: a formation of forty-eight heavy bombers escorted by only six fighters. Steep odds, especially considering League heavy bombers had tail gunners; those odds were, however, significantly increased by the direct support of the Roger Hamilton. The other frigates in her group had been destroyed, so the enemy CAG clearly felt they could overwhelm the frigate then directly attack the capital ships which lay beyond it.

“Stand by for maximum range, target the enemy fighters escorting those bombers,” Amir called out, lining up his shot. The advanced integrated network between the squadron would allow them to effectively target the escorting fighters without wasting missiles. The missile tone sounded, and Amir reflexively pressed the button on his flight stick to fire a LIDAR guided missile. “Knight One, Fox Three.”

Missiles roared away from the CDF fighters; twelve in all, the pilots calling out their launches. Amir cut his afterburners to save fuel, and the rest of the squadron followed suit. The League fighters got off their shots and the space between the opposing forces was crisscrossed with chaff and countermeasures. Most of the League missiles missed, but one exploded close to Knight Seven, damaging the craft but not knocking it out of the fight. In exchange, four Leaguers were destroyed.

Amir reversed thrust, slowing his craft down as he came in for a close pass of the bombers; switching to his miniature neutron cannons, he called out, “Guns, guns, guns!” on the active commlink, repeatedly firing into one of the bombers. Rewarded with an explosion that destroyed the League craft, he peeled off to the right. “Knights, weapons free, target the bombers. Watch out for the tail guns and good hunting.”

Weaving in and out of the enemy formation through a series of high-speed passes, Amir hoped to keep the tail gunners guessing while he raked them with neutron cannon fire. Rewarded with one destroyed bomber and another with significant damage, it became quickly apparent that despite the success his squadron was having, it wouldn’t be enough. “Roger Hamilton, this is Colonel Amir. What’s the status of your missile tubes?” he said into the comms channel that was open with the tactical action officer on the frigate.

“We’ve got a full load of Starbolt missiles in our tubes, Colonel. What’d you have in mind?”

“I’m going to feed you a series of XYZ coordinates that I want you to target those missiles on. We will drive them into what I hope will be a large kill zone and leave enough so my squadron can finish them off,” Amir replied.

“Pretty ballsy, Colonel. Good luck,” the Roger Hamilton’s TAO replied.

Amir pulled back his integrated sensor and common operating picture display and mentally marked several locations for missile detonations with the neural link. Once accomplished, he fed the information back to the frigate and created waypoints for the other two flight leaders to stick to. “Black Knights… follow my instructions to the letter. Drive the enemy before us into the path of the missiles!”

Amir’s fellow pilots acknowledged his orders while he and his two wingmen pivoted back around for another pass. Just outside of the effective range for the tail gunners on the League bombers, he lined up another missile attack with heat-seeking warheads, pushing the missile launch button and sending two missiles toward the closest bomber. “Knight One, Fox Two.”

“Roger Hamilton, launch the Starbolts!” Amir commanded, rolling his fighter away from sustained fire from the League craft. On his HUD, he could see the icons representing the missiles’ leap away from the frigate and accelerate toward the coordinates he had provided. With his squadron hemming them in, the League bombers flew straight into the kill zone as the missile warheads exploded. Multi-megaton nuclear explosions wiped most of them off the face of the universe, but a lucky few managed to avoid being destroyed.

Tracking the movements of one of the surviving bombers, Amir heard the missile warning sound go off as a League fighter rolled in behind him, avoiding his wingmen and firing multiple heat-seeking missiles. He pulled back hard on his flight stick and triggered the flare launcher on his fighter, sending dozens of plasma balls into space to confuse the enemy. The first missile went for the decoys and exploded, doing nothing more than shaking his fighter. The second, however, tracked far closer than he would have liked for comfort; he made a series of tight turns to attempt to throw off its guidance system. The missile exploded during one of those turns, sending shrapnel into his right wing. The master alarm in his fighter sounded, and in glancing to his side, it was clear he had lost part of the wing. While not a concern for aerodynamics since he was in space, nonetheless, at the speed he was going, not having a stable airframe was a severe problem.

“This is Knight One declaring an emergency,” Amir said into his communications link calmly. The decades of experience and training kicked in; there was no time for panic. He quickly scanned the tactical network for the closest carrier he could land at and adjusted his heading toward it. A few seconds later, however, the fire alarm sounded on his primary engine. He pulled the fire handle and attempted to get the situation under control to no avail. A readout on his HUD showing the status of his fighter began to show his fuel supply increasing in temperature. While ejecting into the middle of a battlefield wasn’t his first choice, it at least held a chance for survival.

“Lion of Judah, this is Colonel Amir. I’m being forced to eject from my fighter,” he said into the communications link. “I’ll trigger my rescue beacon as soon as I’m clear.” Not waiting for a reply, he reached down and pulled up on the ejection lever, which immediately triggered a series of explosive bolts that blew the canopy off his fighter; next, the rocket motor in the bottom of his seat kicked in and blew him away from the doomed craft. He saw it explode ten seconds later and thanked Allah repeatedly for his survival. After a moment, he switched on his emergency locator beacon and toggled on his in-suit communications link. “Knight One to any friendlies. Can you hear me?”

“This is Knight Two. We’ve got you, Colonel, flying overwatch until a Jolly Green makes its way over.”

“Negative Knight Two, return to the battle.”

Amir could hear the hesitation in his wingman’s voice. “Sir, are you sure?”

“Yes, Lieutenant. The battle is in doubt, and the League sorely presses our forces. Do your best, and if I am to survive this, I will. Insha’Allah,” Amir replied, determined not to undermine the cause to benefit himself.

“Yes, sir, Black Knights breaking off. Good luck and Godspeed.”

32

Taylor made a fist with his right hand and held it up above his head, the signal for all behind him to stop. Kenneth was at least eight rows back, but thanks to his height, saw it better than most. Pausing with the rest, he gripped the battle rifle he carried tight enough that if it had been made from a polymer, it would have broken in two. They were standing in a nondescript passageway on Unity Station; slowly making their way to one of the auxiliary control rooms that Calvin had ordered taken.

“You okay, boss?” Harold Billings asked.

“Yeah, Master Chief. I’m okay.”

“Remember what I told you. Short, controlled bursts. Don’t pray and spray.”

“Got it,” Kenneth replied as he forced a grin onto his face.

Taylor turned around and waded back into the motley group of civilians and soldiers, almost all of whom were communications technicians. “Everyone good back here?” he asked the group at large.

Many replies of “Yes, sir!” and “Hoorah!” rang out; they were, as a group, quite pumped in Kenneth’s eyes.

“Okay. There’s a large contingent of League troops guarding the entrance, so we’re going to toss in pulse grenades, then rush them. A direct attack on their location; there’s no other way in or out, and no other options. Are we clear?” Taylor stated.

“Aye aye, sir!” Kenneth answered along with everyone else.

“Take your positions and be ready,” Taylor said before turning around and walking back up to the front of the formation.

There was another pause, and Kenneth stood there, waiting. Dread filled him, and he clutched the rifle even harder. Finally, he heard the telltale report of pulse grenades exploding, followed quickly by Taylor screaming, “Go, go, go!”

Everyone surged forward, Kenneth and Billings right alongside. Almost a human wave, the mass of soldiers and civilians rounded the corner to find dozens of League troops facing them. At first, those at the front had an easy time of it; the Leaguers were still stunned and were shot down at close range. That only lasted for a few seconds as the enemy security officers and Marines quickly regained their senses and returned fire.

Those in the first line began to drop, wounded or worse, and they spread out as best as they could, taking cover behind bulkheads and firing through the hatch doors. Kenneth found himself out in the open, frozen as a Leaguer advanced on him. Willing his hands to work, he brought up his rifle and squeezed the trigger, only to be rewarded with the click of the hammer; a dry fire. He tried to work the action, but his hands betrayed him; shaking with fear, he was unable to chamber a round. Time seemed to stop as the Leaguer raised his rifle, only to be cut down by a trio of well-placed shots from behind Kenneth. He whirled around to see Billings standing there, the barrel of his rifle smoking.

Kenneth was still frozen as Billings grabbed him by his shirt and dragged him to the deck. “Boss, you okay?” When Kenneth didn’t respond, he shook him gently. “Snap out of it, boss.”

“Yeah…yeah,” Kenneth finally said, looking down at his rifle and chambering a round. “I don’t know what happened there.”

“It’s okay, just focus. We shoot those guys,” Billings said, pointing down the passageway. “Before they shoot us.”

“Right, Master Chief.” Kenneth got out weakly with a forced smile.

Another wave of what appeared to be League Marines pushed forward; this time, Kenneth raised his rifle, aiming it from the prone position he was in and squeezing the trigger. Between all the other soldiers that were also firing on the oncoming troops, he couldn’t tell if his shots hit the target or not. It continued for what seemed like an eternity. He reloaded his rifle several times while prone before they finally secured the area. It was only when he stood that he realized his pants were soaking wet in the front.

“Nothing to be ashamed of, boss,” Billings said, glancing down.

Kenneth was aghast. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Anyone who says they haven’t known fear in combat is a liar, or simply insane,” Billings replied. “You did well.”

Taylor spoke into his commlink. “Colonel, we’ve secured the target. Moving up to assist you with taking the central control area.”

Weak at the knees, Kenneth held his rifle in both hands and followed Taylor as they moved off. Why did I volunteer for this again?

* * *

As the Marines were fighting their way through Unity Station, the battle continued to rage in space. David sat in the CO’s chair on the Lion of Judah, his eyes continually surveying the tactical plot. After the attack run the League fleet made, which was thwarted by massed missile fire from the CDF and Saurian ships, the Leaguers had pulled back behind the defensive emplacements of their space station. Glancing over at Aibek, he decided he wanted some advice. “XO, what are you thinking? My thoughts are if we keep sitting here, the rest of Seville’s fleet will come back, and we’ll have considerably more ships to fight. On the other hand…”

Aibek finished his thought for him. “If we attack now, that station will inflect far too many casualties on our fleet, and we have to take care to preserve its combat effectiveness.”

David nodded. “There’s also the fact that I’m not willing to just toss lives away, especially not while Colonel Demood seems to have the situation in hand.”

“Conn, TAO! Colonel Amir appears to have ejected from his fighter, sir,” Ruth interjected into the conversation.

David immediately turned toward Ruth in dismay. “Say again, Lieutenant?”

“Confirmed, sir. I’m reading his emergency locator beacon in active mode.”

“Do we have any search and rescue assets in the area?” David asked.

“Negative, sir. SAR has been focusing on the areas of the battlespace with fewer hostiles.”

“Task the nearest Jolly Green,” David began, referencing the nickname of the SAR birds, Jolly Green Giants. They were large and painted green to differentiate themselves from other combat spacecraft. The name had been applied to many search and rescue craft over the centuries. “Task a four-fighter escort for them as well.”

“Aye aye, sir!” Ruth responded crisply.

“Communications, get me Major Hume.”

“Aye aye, sir!”

David heard Hume’s voice come through on the speaker built into his chair. “Major Hume here, sir. What can I do for you?”

“What’s the overall status of the wing, Major?” David asked tersely.

“We’ve taken a beating, sir, but we’ve had good results so far with our engagements with League assets. The wing command structure is intact and fully functional after Colonel Amir’s ejection.”

David’s face betrayed his deep concern, but Hume couldn’t see it from the voice-only link. “Major, what do you feel our odds of success would be with a frontal assault on Unity Station?”

There was a pregnant pause on the line. “Sir, I wouldn’t recommend it. We’ve got the League bombers bottled up for now, but I wouldn’t want to get too close in range of Unity’s point-defense emplacements. To say they’re numerous is an understatement.”

“Understood, Major. For now, keep engaging the enemy. I’ve had a SAR bird, and fighter escort tasked to retrieve Colonel Amir. Watch after them, please.”

“Aye aye, sir!”

“Cohen out,” David said as he clicked off the communications link.

Far from any support or advice from General MacIntosh, and without Admiral Kartal to lead them, David stared at the tactical plot, trying to decide what to do next. Dear God, help me make the right choice, he prayed silently. I’m terrified of throwing these soldiers’ lives away.

“We must decide on a course of action, General,” Aibek reminded him gently. The Saurian had become adept at when to offer advice and how to do it, in a way the humans he served with could relate to.

* * *

Admiral Seville settled back into his chair on the raised platform that oversaw the command deck of the LSS Annihilator, his flagship and the most capable starship the League had in this arm of the galaxy. The Terrans had been hammering them for the past two hours. The losses were mounting and now totaled over one hundred and fifty starships; the cost in resources and lives was enormous. But the League had the resources and lives to throw into the meat grinder of attrition. The Terran Coalition did not, and this weakness would eventually do them in.

“Admiral, we have flash traffic in from the fleet that was searching for the Terrans. They can safely open artificial wormholes again and are requesting orders,” the communications officer for the ship reported.

“Show me the location of the Lion of Judah,” Seville said, addressing his tactical officer.

“Aye aye, sir!” the man quickly replied, and a 3D view of the battle appeared in the holographic projector that was present on the bridge. Seville studied it for a moment, until he was interrupted by Colonel Strappi.

“It would appear that the Lion of Judah has few escorting warships around it, Admiral.”

Seville smiled thinly; Strappi had a knack for stating the obvious. “Yes, I noticed that too, Colonel. What do you think we should do?”

“Oh, I would defer to your vastly better judgment, Admiral. My role is solely to see to our morale.”

Why do I keep this idiot around? Seville fumed mentally. Oh yes, because he doesn’t question my orders like the last political officer… and he can be of use as comic relief at times. “I think we’ll jump in seventy-five percent of our forces here,” Seville began, gesturing to a point behind the CDF and RSN fleets. “The rest, including three Alexander class battleships, will jump in here.” He pointed to a location next to the Lion of Judah. “We’ll send our best captains, and this time, we’ll have her.”

Strappi nodded approvingly. “A wise strategy, Admiral.”

You would have said that if I had suggested sending a company of Marines out to dance on their heads. “Let us begin.”

33

“Conn, TAO. Numerous new contacts, sir!” Ruth called out in alarm as her board lit up with hundreds of new League ships.

David stood up from his chair. “Transfer them to the plot, Lieutenant.” He stared at the holoprojector as the little red icons flashed into existence.

“Sir, I’m reading a Napoleon class fleet carrier, and five Alexander class battleships, along with two hundred plus escorts. They’ve jumped in directly behind our forces, sir.”

David forced his face to remain neutral. I can’t show any weakness or panic. If I do, it’ll infect the entire crew. “And we can’t open up Lawrence drive jump points of our own because we’re too close to the microgravity well of the station.” Damnit, Seville mousetrapped us. I was afraid of that… but at least we didn’t commit to engagement within range of the station’s defenses.

“Conn, TAO! New contacts dead ahead, sir. Three Alexander class battleships, thirty or more escorts!”

David’s mind began to race. He fought mentally to keep his OODA loop intact. “TAO, prioritize the three battleships ahead of us. Which one is closest?”

“Master Four Hundred Seventy-three, sir.”

“Firing point procedures, forward magnetic cannons, neutron beams, and the particle beam emitters, target Master Four Hundred Seventy-three.”

“Firing solutions set, sir. Twenty seconds from firing range at current speed.”

David glanced toward Hammond. “Navigation, intercept course on Master Four Hundred Seventy-three. I want us lined up perfectly.”

“Aye aye, sir,” she replied in a crisp, sure tone.

As the seconds ticked down to active weapons range, David glanced at the tactical plot. There were precious few escorts around the Lion, and only a few with any real heavy weapons capabilities; namely two Themistocles class heavy cruisers, led by the CSV Cicero. Watching the maximum range overlay, the moment the first battleship was in range, he spoke. “TAO, match bearings, shoot, all weapons.”

The Lion’s magnetic cannon turrets fired as one, sending twelve projectiles straight into the League vessel’s shields, impacting on their surface. Bright flares of energy erupted as the powerful energy screens blocked the shots, at the expense of much of their stopping power. Further strikes from the Lion’s neutron beams weakened them further before her primary energy weapons, the four forward particle beams, came alive. Massive spears of white-hot energy lashed out and drilled through the shields and hull of the unfortunate ship, cutting through what remained of its protective screens and slicing through the superstructure. The area around where the beams hit turned molten, while explosions rocked the vessel.

“Conn, TAO. Master Four Hundred Seventy-three has sustained heavy damage and is no longer combat capable,” Ruth called back as incoming plasma cannon rounds from the League battleships began to impact the Lion’s shields.

David glanced up at the tactical status monitor above his chair and noted that the shields were dropping faster than he would have expected them to, by a lot. “TAO, analysis of the enemy’s weapons fire, please.”

“Sir, those impacts have seventy-fire percent more energy than normal League battleships’ plasma cannon armament.”

Underscoring her point, David watched as the forward shield, which was already below fifty percent of its maximum protection rating, dropped liked a stone. “Navigation, hard port thrusters, emergency flank speed. Present our starboard shield to Master Four Hundred Seventy-four and Master Four Hundred Seventy-five!”

“Aye aye, sir!”

David could immediately feel the massive engines on the Lion exert additional force as the turn began to execute.

“Communications, signal the Cicero, request Colonel Meier engage Master Four Hundred Seventy-five.”

“Aye aye, sir,” Bell responded, his voice taut.

“Conn, TAO! Forward shields below ten percent effective power. Shield failure imminent!”

Not bothering to acknowledge Ruth, David addressed Hammond. “Navigation, everything you’ve got. Strip power from all systems to execute the turn!”

“Aye aye, sir!” Hammond replied, her knuckles white as she quickly worked to channel as much power into the Lion’s sub-light engines as possible without overloading them. The ship was massive, and it took time to move even in the weightless environment of space. The League ship’s weapons recharged, and another barrage of plasma cannon fire slammed into the forward shield, causing it to collapse.

David felt the enemy weapons begin to hit home against the forward hull and superstructure for several seconds before the starboard shield began to absorb the shots. “Damage report, XO.”

“Moderate hull and armor damage to the starboard front quarter. Damage control teams on site, sir,” Aibek said after quickly consulting his readout.

“TAO, firing point procedures, Master Four Hundred Seventy-five, all starboard magnetic cannons, and neutron beams.”

“Firing solutions set, sir,” Ruth said, her eyes never leaving her console.

“TAO, confirm firing solutions with the Cicero and Pericles. Concentrate all fire on the same shield arc.”

“Aye aye, sir,” Ruth said as she tried to quickly line up a shot between the three ships in the tactical network. “Confirmed, sir.”

“TAO, shoot, all weapons!” David practically shouted.

Magnetic cannon rounds raced out from the Lion and her two heavy cruiser consorts, slamming into the shields of the League battleship. Coupled with neutron beam fire from all three ships, the force shields of the enemy ship were battered down, and multiple hits scored against the hull. However, without the immense firepower of the Lion’s particle beams, they were unable to disable the battleship in one volley.

“TAO, firing point procedures, Master Four Hundred Seventy-five, all starboard magnetic cannons, and neutron beams. Load armor-piercing shells into the magnetic cannons.”

“Aye aye, sir! Firing solutions set, coordinating with Cicero and Pericles,” Ruth responded, her voice tight and stressed.

David glanced up at the tactical plot, wondering why they weren’t absorbing more enemy fire, as the League ships had ample time to recharge their plasma cannons.

Ruth’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “Conn, TAO. Aspect change, Masters Four Hundred Seventy-four and Four Hundred Seventy-five. They’re targeting the Pericles and Cicero.”

David’s eyes went straight back to the tactical plot, which showed the shields of both heavy cruisers dropping quickly; the Pericles’ forward shields failed, and the readout showed both League battleships bracketing it with sustained fire. Helpless, David watched as a lucky hit ignited a magazine or fuel bunkerage, and the Pericles exploded.

“Conn, TAO! CSV Pericles destroyed, sir! Cicero is showing significant damage, and I’m detecting life pod launches!” Ruth’s voice teetered on panic, watching the only two heavy capital ships in range get worked over by what appeared to be newly upgraded League vessels.

“Did anyone make it off the Pericles?” David asked, fearing he already knew the answer.

“Not that I can read, sir.”

“Navigation, bring us about, hard left, put the Lion in between the enemy vessels and the Cicero,” David commanded. “TAO, status of our forward and aft VRLS?”

“We only have one missile cell reloaded in the aft VRLS, sir; 40 Starbolts. Forward VRLS is still being reloaded.”

“That’ll have to do. TAO, firing point procedures, Master Four Hundred Seventy-five, all Starbolt missiles in the aft VRLS. Make available tubes ready in all respects. Open outer missile doors.”

“Firing solutions set, sir, tubes one hundred sixty through two hundred ready in all respects.”

“Match bearings, shoot, all weapons.”

Dozens of Starbolt missiles roared out of the Lion of Judah’s aft missile cell, while her magnetic cannons and neutron beams spoke as one, hammering the League battleship once again. Her shots, while on target, didn’t cause knockout damage; the League ship was still in the fight. Almost as soon as the Lion passed in front of the Cicero, both League battleships opened up again with the full force of their weapons. David could feel the hits all the way up on the bridge, as dozens of plasma cannon blasts impacted first on the barely recharged forward shields, which quickly failed, then on the armor and superstructure of the ship.

The ship buckled and shook the crew in their harnesses while the lights dimmed. Fuses in consoles overloaded and shorted out before a particularly violent hit was directly followed by a loss of electrical power to the bridge. David brought the communicator on his wrist up to his lips. “Engineering, this is the bridge. Report! We’ve lost power on the bridge!”

“General, this is Hanson. The anti-matter containment cooling system failed. We’ve had to SCRAM the reactor and are switching over to the backup fusion reactors. Wait one, sir.”

A couple of seconds later, the consoles on the bridge snapped back online, and the tactical plot was restored to the monitor above David’s chair. The first thing David noticed was that both League battleships were still there, and intact. “TAO, scan Master Four Hundred Seventy-five…is it still combat capable?”

Ruth moved to comply but noticed something first. “Conn, TAO! Aspect change, Cicero. She’s lighting off her engines, sir… I’m showing flank speed thrust. She’s on an intercept course with Master Four Hundred Seventy-four!”

The undamaged battleship? What’s Meier trying to do? David turned his head to the backup communications officer, Lieutenant Bell. “Communications, get me the Cicero on my viewer.”

“Aye aye, sir,” Bell replied crisply.

While David waited for the link with Colonel Meier, he returned his attention to Hanson. “Mr. Hanson, we’ve got lights. I need shields and weapons back online,” he said through the wrist communicator.

“Sir, I can give you shields and engines, or weapons and engines, but not all three.”

Damnit. Shields are more important right now, or the ship will take even more damage, and God only knows how much more of a pounding she can take. “Shields and engines, Major. Get that anti-matter reactor back online. We’re sitting ducks without weapons.”

“Aye aye, sir, we’re on it, sir!” Hanson answered, his voice somehow cheery despite the pandemonium around him.

David switched off the channel and sat back in his chair, pondering the situation. There weren’t many friendly ships around, and most were involved in their own battles; it was up to Hanson to get weapons back online so they could continue to prosecute the enemy.

A moment later, David heard Colonel Meier’s voice through the speaker on his chair; the viewer was blank. “I apologize, General, video communications are down. Not much working on this tub except my engines, life support, and basic communications. What can I do for you?”

“Colonel, if that’s all you’ve got working, why are you flying toward a highly lethal enemy battleship?”

“My crew’s off the ship, except for a couple of bridge officers who stayed behind to help. We’re going to even up the odds, sir.”

“Colonel, I’m ordering you to abandon ship. We’ll handle it,” David commanded, unwilling to allow Meier to sacrifice himself.

“With respect, sir, that’s an order I’m going to have to decline. The Lion’s taken significant damage. Your forward superstructure is a wreck, and one of your landing bays is too damaged to take in fighters. As I said, we’ll even up the odds.”

David said nothing, staring straight ahead.

Meier continued, “The last year or so, I haven’t believed there was anything else to this life, or anything beyond death, after seeing all the destruction around us on a daily basis. Right about now, I pray I’m wrong.”

“That makes two of us, Colonel,” David said, watching the icon for the Cicero rapidly close in on the icon for the League battleship. “Godspeed, Colonel. See you again someday, I hope.”

“Godspeed, General Cohen. Make it count,” Meier said before static overtook his message, as, at the same time, the icon for the Cicero merged into that of the undamaged League ship.

David flipped the tactical plot to show in real time, the Cicero impacting into the Alexander class battleship amidships and enormous explosions breaking out. It seemed only to take seconds for both ships to violently explode into debris the size of two-foot chunks.

David stared forward, his mind lost at the destruction of another ship, and the loss of another friend.

Aibek’s insistent tone interrupted his thoughts. “General, your orders, sir?”

“TAO, status of Master Four Hundred Seventy-five?” David said after a long pause.

“Master Four Hundred Seventy-five is still minimally combat capable, sir,” Ruth replied, her voice betraying emotion. “Aspect change, Master Four Hundred Seventy-five! Contact is powering her Lawrence drive!”

Thanking God the enemy was bugging out, David watched as the last League battleship jumped out. They’d have to wait until the anti-matter reactor was restored to reenter combat, and he prayed Hanson would accomplish the task in record time. Being unable to affect the fight was something he couldn’t abide.

34

Following the capture of the station’s auxiliary control rooms, Taylor had led the rest of the civilian contractors and volunteers who were with him toward the rendezvous point for the final assault on Unity’s control center.

Kenneth stayed near the back, shamed more than anything by his poor performance in the previous combat. I can’t believe how hard I froze up.

As if reading his mind, Billings spoke quietly to him. “You weren’t trained for this, sir. You can’t think anything less of yourself.”

Kenneth glanced at him. “Master Chief, I feel like I let the LT down.”

“You realize how many firefights I was in before I could engage the enemy, cool as glass? Let me tell you… a lot.”

“Trying to make me feel better?”

“Is it working?”

“Not really,” Kenneth confessed.

As the lot of them stepped over fallen soldiers, one of the bodies began to moan. Kenneth immediately took note and rushed over to where the noise was coming from. Pulling the corpse of a League soldier to the side, he discovered a TCMC Marine clinging to life. “I’ve got a live one over here! Corpsman!”

There was shouting and commotion as Taylor made his way back to Kenneth; Billings hovered over them while the nearest corpsman dropped his medkit next to the fallen Marine and began diagnostics.

“Hang in there, son,” Kenneth said. “We’ll get you patched up.”

“Just…” the wounded soldier said in a whimper. “Don’t want to die like this. Want to see my mom one last time.”

“What’s your name, soldier?” Kenneth asked him.

“Jerrod Connolly,” he said between gasps for air.

The corpsman stood up and walked over to Taylor; Kenneth overheard the conversation. “Lieutenant, nothing I can do for this man. If we had a surgical suite right here, it’d be fifty-fifty to save his life. We don’t have six soldiers to litter him back to the FOB. Best I can do is give him some painkillers to relieve his suffering at the end.”

Kenneth whipped his head around to see Taylor’s face scrunched up and his eyes narrowed. “I don’t want to leave him here to die,” he said. “That wouldn’t be right.”

“I can stay with him if you’d like,” the corpsman replied.

“I’ll carry him back to the FOB,” Kenneth interjected.

“You’ll what?” Taylor asked. “He’s got to weigh ninety kilos. I don’t care how many weights you lift. It’s a kilometer back.”

Kenneth stood, and his voice took on firmness and strength that seemed to come from some other point within him. “We’re not leaving him to die, and I’m not going to sit here and watch him die without trying to save him. That’s the absolute least I can do.”

“If you move him by fireman’s carry, you’ll kill him. He’d need a litter,” the corpsman said. “We’re coming down to the wire. There’s not enough troops to go around.”

“What’s his odds of living if I drag him back to the FOB?” Kenneth asked, using the acronym for Forward Operating Base.

“Ten percent, max.”

“His odds of living if he stays here are zero. I’ll take it,” Kenneth said.

“Hold on. I can’t send a security team with you,” Taylor said, growing exasperated. “We don’t have the men for that either.”

“We cleared out the area behind us. I’ll take the risk.”

“Boss, I’ll go with you,” Billings said from behind Kenneth’s back.

“No. Lieutenant Taylor needs you, and every available trigger puller. I’ll be fine.”

“But, boss…”

“No, Master Chief. That’s a direct order. I’ll be okay.”

“Okay,” Billings said, conceding the point.

“Any objections, LT?” Kenneth asked.

“No. I’d do it myself, but… I need to lead these men.”

“You do your job. I’ll do mine,” Kenneth replied before turning around and kneeling next to the fallen Marine. “Corporal…if you can understand me, my name’s Kenneth Lowe. I’m going to try to drag you back to the FOB for treatment. Stay with me, okay?”

“Yeah… okay.”

“Let’s go,” Kenneth said, unable to say anything more and trying to suppress the emotions building inside of him. He thought of his mother, and if he’d ever see her again. Pushing the thought down, he picked up the man’s legs and began to drag him down the passageway they’d come down, while the rest of the soldiers marched on toward the fight.

For the better part of twenty minutes, he labored half bent over, pulling the Marine along; a faint trail of blood smeared the deck plating behind them. At some point, Jerrod blacked out, and Kenneth quickly overexerted himself; regardless of how his muscles screamed in pain, he pressed on.

The sound of a rifle action clicking as a round chambered was the first indication Kenneth had he wasn’t alone. Not a practiced combatant, he’d focused on his objective of saving the young soldier. He hadn’t bothered to check the area or perform recon.

“Turn around, slowly, Terran!” a voice called out from behind him.

Kenneth let the soldier’s legs drop to the floor and slowly turned around. “No weapons in my hands, League.” He saw a League security officer wearing black combat armor standing ten meters down the passageway.

“No sudden moves or I’ll kill you where you stand.”

“I’m just trying to get a wounded man to safety,” Kenneth retorted. “How’d you ever get back in here? TCMC cleared this corridor thirty minutes ago.”

“They didn’t get all of us,” the Leaguer said defiantly. “You’ll never defeat the League.”

“Is that propaganda or do you believe it?” Kenneth asked with a thin smile. Inwardly, he was about to pee his pants again; no play to pull a weapon that didn’t result in his death came to mind.

The Leaguer shifted his grip ever so slightly on the rifle. “Stop talking, Terran. You’re my prisoner. I will take you to a holding area.”

“No,” Kenneth said, surprising himself in the forcefulness of the answer.

“Do it, or I’ll kill you, Terran!”

What the hell has gotten into me? “No, you won’t. I’m going to turn around and pick up the man I was carrying. Then I’m going to keep walking toward our FOB.”

“I’ll kill you!”

He’s just a boy, and it takes a twisted person to shoot an unarmed man in the back, Kenneth hoped as he slowly turned around, and picked up Jerrod’s legs. “Tell them I got the drop on you, son. Hell, don’t mention me to begin with.”

“Why is this man worth your life?”

He sounds puzzled. “Because he’s someone’s son, friend, father, and husband. Because every life is worth dying for. That’s what the League doesn’t get, and it’s why you’ll never win.” Kenneth grunted as he dragged Jerrod across the deck.

“You’re not worth wasting a bullet on! You can’t even fight, carrying that corpse,” the Leaguer replied as he lowered the rifle.

“He’s not a corpse yet. Not if I’ve got anything to do with it.”

“If I see you again, I’ll kill you.”

“Well, I guess I’ll try not to see you again because I don’t want to have to kill you,” Kenneth said between labored breaths, dragging Jerrod forward.

The last Kenneth saw of the League soldier, he was standing in the middle of the passageway, his rifle in its sling. It took another fifteen minutes of slow progress before he ran into a trio of Marines guarding an approach to the shuttle bay that friendly forces were staging out of.

“Halt!” a Marine in power armor shouted. “Who goes there?”

“Kenneth Lowe, civilian contractor.” He turned around slowly and showed his hands. “I’ve got a wounded man here. He needs medical attention, ASAP!”

“I’ve got corpsmen on the way,” the Marine said. “Where’s the rest of your litter party?”

“Just me. The rest had to press on.”

A group of corpsmen raced out down the corridor with a stretcher. They quickly put Jerrod onto it and hustled to move him while performing basic triage. “Breathing shallow, pulse faint but steady. Multiple projectile penetrations. Who brought him in?” one of them said.

“I did, Corporal,” Kenneth said.

“Any idea what he was shot with?”

“No. We found him after a firefight. Is he going to be okay?”

“Who knows?” the corpsmen that appeared to be in charge answered. “That’s up to God and the surgeon at this point. But I know this… he wouldn’t have survived much longer out there, so if he survives, he owes you a beer.”

Despite all the terror around him and the fear in his heart, Kenneth laughed out loud at the wisecrack from the corpsman. “Thanks, Corporal.”

“Yeah, whatever,” the man replied as they marched off carrying the stretcher. Kenneth wiped his brow, which was soaked with sweat, and looked down the passageway he had just come down, unslinging his battle rifle and mentally preparing to walk down it once more.

“Where the hell are you, Kenny?” the voice of Calvin asked through his helmet’s commlink.

“Uh, I’m back at the FOB, Colonel. About to head back toward the front.”

“Who gave you authorization to leave your team?”

“I was carrying a wounded man back, sir. He was going to die without medical attention.”

“You yellow-bellied coward!” Calvin shouted, causing pain in Kenneth’s eardrum. “Get your ass back to the fight, or I’ll see you court-martialed myself.”

“Sir…”

“Shut up and move!”

At that moment, the events of the last hour caught up with Kenneth. He sank to his knees, his entire body shaking uncontrollably. What if Demood is right? What if I am a coward? What if I’m running away from the fight and trying to make myself feel better? he considered, dark thoughts cascading through his mind like driving rain.

Alone, vulnerable, he remembered back to his own experiences in boot camp and in particular, one drill instructor who was relentless, even when Kenneth had expended everything he had. “Don’t you dare think about quitting!” he would say. “You don’t quit! Whenever you quit at anything, you build on a muscle within your mind that allows you to quit. Never do it! Once you do, you’ll quit at everything, whenever the going gets tough.”

That drill instructor’s attitude and determination had helped him get through boot camp and shaped his character for the rest of his life up until now. I can’t quit. I can’t leave my friends, no matter what Demood says, Kenneth thought as he forced himself to his feet and took off at a jog down the passageway, back toward the fight.

35

The scene outside of the control room for Unity Station was one of slightly controlled chaos. TCMC forces had pushed up to form a pincer around the single point of entry to their objective, while what was left of the station’s security contingent and the League Marines staged a last stubborn stand. Bullets whizzed around Calvin as he stood behind the first line of Marines. Damn, that was close, he thought as his HUD warned him of a round traveling within an inch of his helmet.

“Where’s that heavy gauss machine gun, Master Guns?” Calvin shouted into his commlink, directed toward his senior enlisted Marine, Reuben Menahem.

“One damn minute, Colonel!”

“Well, hurry it up. We’re getting creamed up here!” Calvin shouted back as another Marine in front of him collapsed, the victim of repeated League shots to his center mass. “Corpsman!”

“Press them, Marines! Keep firing!” Calvin yelled, bringing up his battle rifle and sighting down on the nearest Leaguer he could see with the advanced optics. Squeezing the trigger, he was rewarded with the enemy pitching backward, the man’s rifle falling away. Once on the deck, he didn’t move.

“Colonel, perhaps we should think about pulling back to dress our lines and bring up additional heavy weapons?” Menahem asked through the commlink.

“You want to retreat, Master Guns?” Calvin replied, surprised that it was even suggested.

“If you want to call it that, sir.”

“Retreat? Hell, Master Guns, we just got here!”

“Yes, sir!”

While Calvin waited for Menahem and the heavy weapons to arrive, he and the rest of the Marines engaged the enemy. League troops fell like bowling pins while more of his troops than he’d care to admit were wounded or killed by hostile fire. As both forces thinned out, rough barricades were erected, at times out of bodies of the fallen, behind which both sides hunkered down and attempted to suppress one other. It was a blood bath for all involved; no quarter was asked nor given.

Finally, Menahem and the two other Marines that carried the heavy gauss machine gun rounded the corner; to Calvin’s relief, it was already loaded and they were pushing it into the field of fire.

“Marines, flatten!” Calvin shouted into his commlink, directed at both sides of his assault force. Instantly, the TCMC force pressed down onto the deck, leaving a clear firing lane.

Menahem held down the firing studs on the massive gun, holding on as it sent giant slugs down the corridor. A cousin of the ship-mounted magnetic cannon, it fired far faster and used electromagnetism to propel projectiles down its barrel. The resulting carnage was like a hot knife going through butter; Leaguers were cut down right and left as the barrage continued.

There’s a point at which every man and woman can’t take any more hell. Calvin momentarily pitied the League force as they tried in vain to return fire, only to be slaughtered all the more the instant someone raised their head above whatever makeshift cover they had access to. With no more targets, Menahem let go of the firing studs, and the passageway was suddenly quiet.

“Hold your fire! Hold your fire!” a panicked voice from the League side yelled. “Please, allow us to surrender.”

“Any tricks, we’ll kill you all,” Calvin replied, a hard edge to his voice. “Any at all. Are we clear?”

“We’re clear, Terran.”

“Toss all your weapons out in the open, then put your hands over your heads and walk out, single file.”

All at once, dozens of League rifles and sidearms were flung away; they landed all over the corridor. They’ve lost the will to fight. The first Leaguer stood up with his hands behind his head and walked toward their lines. Calvin immediately knew they’d won. It took a while for all of the prisoners to be herded toward the rear, where a security detail kept watch on them. Finally, he stood before the reinforced doors to the control room. “This cost us way too damn much.”

“Yeah, but it's ours, and we’re not leaving,” Menahem replied, stepping up next to him. “You got some friends that just arrived,” he continued, pointing to a group of people in combat armor, led by Lieutenant Taylor.

“Late to the party, Lieutenant?” Calvin needled.

“Better late than never, sir,” Taylor cheerfully replied.

“How’d you guys do?”

“Lost some friends. Leaguers lost more,” Taylor said, his face set in a hard look. “We ready to blow this door, kill these assholes, and go home?”

Calvin smirked and laughed. “You hear that, Master Guns? This soft fleet officer has some fight in him. I like it. Damn straight, skippy. I want this door rigged to blow five minutes ago.”

“Aye aye, sir!” Menahem answered, and directed the breach team forward. They placed explosive charges around the edges of the sealed door, linking them together with a remote detonator, which was handed to Menahem, who in turn passed it to Calvin. “Thinking you’d like the honors, sir.”

“Clear the area!” Calvin shouted as everyone took cover a safe distance away. “Fire in the hole!”

A monstrous explosion shook Calvin’s power armor, and the blast wave knocked over anyone who was standing nearby and not accustomed to such combat. As the smoke cleared, he could see where the door once stood, there was now a gaping hole. “Okay, ladies and gentlemen, here’s the plan. We’ll volley pulse grenades into that room, charge through, and fire at will on anything that resists. Any questions?”

“Which one’s Will?” someone shouted.

“Anyone wearing a League uniform, smartass!”

“Hoorah!” various Marines shouted out.

“Pulse grenades, over,” Calvin screamed at the top of his lungs; Marines tossed half a dozen of the personnel suppression devices through the opening while enemy fire poured out, smacking the walls with ricochets. The second the pulse grenades went off, they charged into the control room. Calvin was the sixth man in, and Taylor was close behind. Stunned League security personnel tried to get their weapons up and were cut down by precise fire from the Terrans.

Calvin personally dispatched two League officers that drew sidearms on him, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Taylor shoot another one in the chest when he tried to pull a knife. It took a few minutes, but in short order, any armed personnel were killed or wounded, and everyone else surrendered. As more Terran Coalition troops poured into the control center, he allowed himself to relax for a moment; victory was achieved.

* * *

Amir absent-mindedly checked his oxygen readout for what had to be the five hundredth time; it still showed above fifty-percent reserves and hadn’t changed since he’d verified it last, about thirty seconds ago. This waiting is worse than death. Almost serene, he had a view few others would ever get of an epic battle between large opposing fleets; even with the limited optic range of his HUD, he’d been watching allied and League ships go at it for the last two hours. As the battle had moved away from his location, it had become safe enough for the fleet to send in search and rescue craft, escorted by limited amounts of fighters. Still linked into the CDF’s tactical network, he’d followed the performance of his squadrons and was pleased they’d, for the most part, achieved superiority in local space except for around Unity itself.

“This is SAR bird nineteen to Colonel Amir, come in,” a new voice said from within his helmet.

“SAR nineteen, this is Colonel Amir.”

“We’ve got a clear signal from you, and all pilots we can get to in this area have been picked up, per your orders, sir. Any objection to going home?”

“None at all,” Amir said. Insisting they get the rest of the pilots first was the hardest order I’ve ever given. Out here, alone and exposed to the vacuum of space is the single most terrifying thing I’ve ever done.

“We’ll be there in ten minutes, Colonel. Hang tight.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere,” Amir deadpanned in return.

The first indication that something was wrong was the flare of an engine from an icon marked on his HUD as a disabled League fighter. It zoomed off, Amir unable to track its movements against the blackness of space.

“This is SAR nineteen declaring an emergency! We’ve got a hostile heading straight for us. Request any friendly fighters to engage!” Allah protect them. “Colonel, we may have to double back for you,” the voice continued.

“Take whatever action you deem as necessary.”

“SAR nineteen, this is Black Cat One. I read you loud and clear. ETA in three minutes at max burn. Come to heading 067, and you’ll be aiming right at me.”

Amir instantly recognized the voice of Major Richard Hume, his XO. “Major, do not deviate from mission to assist. Capture of the station remains the utmost priority.”

“Colonel, I’m coming alone. Would you quit being so stubborn? I’m trying to save your life.”

“I appreciate the sentiment,” Amir said. “I don’t want the death of another friend on my conscience.”

“I didn’t realize we were friends, yet,” Hume replied cheerfully. “Hang in there. After the day we’ve had, one League fighter isn’t getting between you and rescue if I have anything to do with it.”

“Thank you.” Amir floated and waited, his mind drifting to his wife and children; wondering if he would ever see them again, he prayed to Allah for deliverance. About the time he finished his prayer, there was a small, bright explosion.

“Major, are you okay?” Amir asked on the commlink, fearing the worst.

“I’m fine, sir. Splash one bandit! SAR nineteen, I’ll fly cover as you recover the Colonel,” Hume answered after a pause that caused Amir’s heart to skip a few beats.

Realizing that today was not the day he was to die left Amir unsettled as he looked out into space; the pleadings of his wife to retire and return to her and their children were at the forefront of his thoughts. Perhaps it’s time to hang up my wings, he pondered as the Jolly Green swooped into view.

* * *

The Marines and what was left of Captain Singh’s commandos lined the League prisoners up, hands on top of their heads, with super dense polymer flex-cuffs on each one’s wrist to ensure they were immobilized. Calvin stepped forward, looking down at the rough-looking lot, and cleared his throat. “Who’s the ranking officer here?”

A middle-aged woman with striking features and olive skin spoke up. “Fleet Captain Astrid Monet, League Navy. Serial Number 3613695AF3.”

Calvin strode over to her and nodded to the Marine guard behind her, who roughly lifted her to her feet. “Captain Monet,” he began with mock politeness, “I am Colonel Calvin Demood, Terran Coalition Marine Corps, at your service.”

Astrid looked at Calvin, her eyes flashing hatred. “Then get off my station with your fanatical horde.”

Calvin laughed. “No can do. You see, we’re kicking your rear ends all the way back to Earth. This is just a waypoint. Where’s Admiral Seville?”

“Fleet Captain Astrid Monet, League Navy. Serial Number 3613695AF3.”

“Think you’re going to get away with that?” Calvin asked her in a haughty tone.

“I know all about your Terran Coalition rules. You can’t force me to answer you,” Astrid replied smugly.

“Is that a fact?”

“It’s well known the Terran Coalition doesn’t like to get its hands dirty.”

Calvin smoothly pulled out the sidearm that rested on his leg, racking the action as he raised the weapon, and put it up against Astrid’s temple. “Care to tell me again I won’t get my hands dirty, Captain?”

Astrid laughed in his face. “You’re bluffing.”

“Give me the security codes to this station.”

“No.”

“Do it, or I’ll blow your brains out, right here, right now.”

“If you do, it will accomplish nothing. You won’t have the code.”

“I’m sure one of your officers will give it up after seeing your brains sloshing around on the floor,” Calvin replied, his voice hard and his eyes narrow.

“I’m the only one left alive in this room with the entire access code, Colonel. The League takes security precautions very seriously… you killed my executive officer and our morale officer during the assault on this control center,” Astrid fired back, showing absolutely no fear at the gun pressed against her head.

Calvin jerked up the gun as Astrid smirked. The fleet is in trouble. It doesn’t do any good if I can’t turn this station’s weapons against the enemy ships out there. All the sacrifice of my Marines will be for nothing. Screw that and screw these Leaguers. Looking at the line of League officers, he picked out the one with the next highest rank, a lieutenant commander. “Well, Captain, if your life is of no value, perhaps your officers are.” Setting the gun to the forehead of the man, who started to shake, he glanced back to Astrid. “Give me the code, or he dies.”

“You’re still bluffing, Colonel,” came Astrid’s tight-lipped response.

Without hesitation, Calvin lowered the pistol, aimed at the Leaguer’s right knee, and pulled the trigger. The report of the weapon firing was like a thunderclap in the confines of the control room. A split second later, he fired into the left knee. The man collapsed, screaming in agony. He turned to stare at Astrid, whose face had turned ashen, her mouth agape. “That look like a bluff to you, Captain?”

“You’re a butcher,” Astrid stammered.

“Don’t you dare lecture me about who’s a butcher, you sorry sack of shit! You Leaguers have been killing us for nearly thirty years. You invade our planets, massacre men, women, and children. You’ve killed thousands of the men and women under my command. Screw you, and screw your precious League!” Calvin put the pistol the forehead of the man as he writhed on the deck. “Code, now!”

“Never!” Astrid shouted. “I don’t care what you do, I’ll never give up the code and let you destroy our fleet. That’s bigger than any of us. Do your worst, Coalition!”

Calvin’s finger rested on the trigger, hesitating. Something deep within him wouldn’t let him squeeze, as much as he wanted to. He adjusted his aim to the right and fired a round an inch from the Leaguer’s head that pinged off the deck plate. “Next shot goes in his brain, Captain Monet. You got the balls to watch me kill him, then your entire crew? You’ll be the last one here, and I’ll kill you too.”

A tear ran down Astrid’s cheek. “We serve the League. I will not give you the code. Kill us all. It doesn’t matter.”

Menahem forced his way over to Calvin and whispered loudly in his ear, “Colonel, what the hell are you doing? You can’t torture prisoners of war or threaten to kill them!”

Calvin stared at Menahem with a look of pure hatred. “I’ll do anything I damn well please with these scum, Master Guns. Stand aside.”

“I can’t allow this, sir. Aside from the fact it’s against the law, it’s wrong, sir! We’re better than this.”

“Perhaps you’re right, Master Guns,” Calvin said after a moment. “Where're the environmental controls for the life support on this tub?” The only way to get through to them is to threaten to kill them all.

Taylor pointed to a group of consoles and displays. “Here, sir.”

“Excellent, Lieutenant. Isolate the decks the League controls and vent the atmosphere in them into space.”

“No!” Astrid shouted. “There are twenty thousand people on this station, some of them are civilians!”

“Should have thought of that, Captain,” Calvin replied as he walked to the console that Taylor was standing over. “Lieutenant, let’s purge this station.”

Taylor didn’t move. “Sir, we can’t kill twenty thousand people without at least offering them surrender as an option.”

“You’ll do what I tell you to do, Lieutenant,” Calvin snarled.

“With respect, sir, no, I won’t,” Taylor answered, pulling himself up just a little bit taller. “You’re giving illegal orders. Under the UCMJ, I have no obligation to comply.”

Calvin pushed Taylor to the side and sat down at the console. “Fine, I’ll do it myself.” He began to tinker with the controls, determining how to expose each deck to the vacuum of space. “Last chance, Captain. Order your people to surrender, give me the access code, and you all get to go home someday.”

Astrid didn’t reply; she merely stared at him, her face a mask of blinding rage.

Menahem had walked up behind Calvin and began to speak. “Colonel, you can’t do this, sir. I won’t allow you.”

“You won’t allow me?” Calvin stood up and violently shoved Menahem away. “I’m the one giving orders here, Master Guns. If you can’t obey them, surrender your weapon and go stand with the enemy!”

“Sir!” Taylor shouted. “Please, sir, there’s a better way. Let me and some of the technical guys get set up. We’ll hack the control system. Just give us some time to do it the right way.” His right hand rested on his sidearm.

Calvin glanced from the hand to Taylor’s face. “If you're thinking about drawing on me, Lieutenant, I’d make sure to do it when my back’s turned. I can outfight you any day, and I’ll kill you just the same.”

“As the highest ranking officer in this room, I’m relieving you of command, sir. Stand down.”

“I don’t think so, Taylor.”

“He’s right, sir. This has gone far enough,” Menahem interjected.

Why can’t they see it’s the only way? “You want me to stop? Shoot me.” Calvin punched the final control to start the atmosphere vent.

Astrid watched in horror as the large bank of flat panel screens began to show security device transmissions from the deck below them. Anyone who wasn’t in combat armor began to fall over, clutching at their throats and grabbing at whatever was near them from lack of oxygen. “Stop! I’ll unlock the system, stop!”

Calvin locked eyes with her as he reversed the sequence. “Get her up. Any tricks, and we’ll start over, Captain.”

The figures on the monitors stopped clutching their throats and slowly returned to normal. There was extreme tension in the control room as Marines glanced at each other, unsure of what they’d just witnessed.

With a posture and pose that betrayed her resignation, Astrid inserted a security card, entered her access code, scanned her palm, and unlocked the primary systems. As soon as she had completed the sequence, the young Marine pulled her back from the input station. “It’s done, Colonel. Congratulations on being as ruthless as your propaganda claims we are.”

“Get the League trash out of my sight, Master Guns,” Calvin said in Menahem’s direction. “Lieutenant Taylor, get on comms and let General Cohen know we’ve taken the station and have control of its weapons systems. Then have Captain Monet here order her comrades to surrender.”

Menahem cleared his throat. “Colonel Demood, I will follow your orders. I must inform you I’ll be forced to report what happened here to the Judge Advocate General for investigation under the UCMJ.”

Taylor was silent; he took his station and seemed to focus solely on the work.

Calvin couldn’t find the words to reply to Menahem. As his actions caught up with him, the first crack of doubt appeared in his mind. Did I go too far? Am I truly capable of doing anything in pursuit of victory? Was it worth it?

36

Simultaneously, on the bridge of the Lion of Judah, David gripped the sides of his chair with such force, his knuckles hurt. The anti-matter reactor had just come back online; while running on backup fusion power, the mighty warship was a shell of its average combat effectiveness. Since sending Seville’s strike force running, they’d stayed in the rear, waiting for temporary repairs to be completed. The League ships that jumped in behind them had been nibbling at their heels, but the combined CDF/RSN fleet kept the range open and slowly closed in on Unity Station.

This tactic is only going to work for so long. At some point, I have to turn around and engage the League fleet or pick up our Marines and get the hell out of here. “TAO, distance between enemy battleships and our rearguard?”

“Roughly fifteen thousand kilometers, sir,” Ruth said.

“Conn, communications!” The still unfamiliar voice of Second Lieutenant Jefferson Bell, the backup communications officer, interjected, “I’ve got Colonel Demood for you, sir.”

“Put him through to my viewer, Lieutenant.”

A moment later, Calvin’s face was displayed above him. “General Cohen, good to see you, sir.”

“Same here, Colonel. What’s the word?” David replied. He could see consoles and many friendlies behind the tough Marine, but wasn’t sure where he was broadcasting from.

“Coming to you live from Unity Station’s control room, sir. I have full control of the station’s weapons systems and shields. We’re mopping up the last resistance, and the flag has been raised.”

David’s eyes opened as wide as they possibly could; of all the things he had been hoping for, this wasn’t one he had even allowed himself to conceive of. “Outstanding work, Colonel! What’s the status of those weapon systems?”

“Fully charged, no munitions expended. We’ve got full run of them.”

“We could lure the League fleet into range,” Aibek mused.

“Yeah, but it’s got to look good. Seville is no slouch.”

“Colonel, we’re going to execute a flank run at the station. What I want you to do is open fire on us as we range; be very careful not to take down friendly ships but make sure you make it look legit.”

“You got it, General. Anything else?”

“Once we’ve drawn the League in, we’ll about-face, open up with everything we’ve got, and you join in.”

Calvin grinned fiercely. “One destroyed League fleet, coming right up, sir.”

“Godspeed, Colonel.”

“You too,” Calvin replied before the connection cut off.

“You heard the man,” David said to the bridge at large. “Communications, signal the fleet to move in, flank speed.”

“Aye aye, sir!” Jefferson said.

“Navigation, intercept course, Master One.”

“Aye aye, sir, intercept course set.”

“Navigation, engage flank speed!”

The Lion shuddered as it accelerated; David could almost hear the engines straining at maximum power. As he watched the plot intently, there were orders and replies over the next few minutes as the fleet sped up and closed in on the massive League space station. To his relief, the League ships took the bait; they too matched flank speed and closed in on the depleted CDF/RSN formations. This is going to be close.

“Conn, TAO! Entering weapons range of Master One.”

“Acknowledged, TAO. Firing point procedures. Target Master One with neutron beams and forward magnetic cannons.”

“Firing solutions set, sir.”

“Match bearings, shoot, all weapons.”

A massive salvo thundered out from the Lion, her magnetic cannons and neutron emitters speaking as one, the shots impacting on the League stations shields. Other ships in the fleet also opened fire, but only a few used missile inventories; holding on to those munitions would be key to turning the tables on their pursuers. David continued to watch as the range closed with the pursuing League ships.

“Perhaps we should slow down, let them catch up to us?” Aibek said.

“That might look a bit suspect, XO.”

“If we don’t slow down, we’ll ram the station.”

“Fair. Navigation, slow us to ahead two-thirds. Communications, signal the fleet to match our speed.”

As the fleet slowed down, the League of Sol ships behind them entered into weapons range. Long-range plasma cannon fire began to pelt the vessels to the rear of the allied formation while the vessels that had aft-facing weaponry returned it gamely. Few ships were lost on either side. Meanwhile, the range closed to within one thousand kilometers of Unity Station. Now…now we’ve got them.

“Navigation, maximum reserve thrust, hard-a-starboard! Bring us about and present our forward arc to the enemy.”

“Aye aye, sir!” Hammond answered.

“Communications, signal the fleet to match our maneuvers.”

“Aye aye, sir!” Jefferson called back.

“TAO, engage tactical network, task the fleet to engage targets closest to them!”

“Yes, sir, tactical network engaged, transmitting weapons-free orders to all fleet echelon leaders.”

David sat back in his chair, staring one more time at the tactical plot. The League outer band of escorts were firmly in range, while the capital ships beyond were more cautious and had slowed. “TAO, firing point procedures, target Master Two-hundred-seventy and Two-hundred-seventy-five with neutron emitters and magnetic cannons.”

“Firing solutions set, sir.”

“Match bearings, shoot, all weapons.”

A volley of fire raced out from the Lion of Judah, targeting an unfortunate pair of Rand class cruisers. Already weakened from previous exchanges with the allied fleet, high explosive magnetic cannon rounds hammered down their shields, and neutron beams wrecked the ships from bow to stern. They were left as drifting wrecks, spurting fire into the zero-G vacuum of space. Ships throughout the fleet fired on the incoming League forces, exacting a heavy price from the enemy. Not to be outdone, the League ships opened fire with their weapon suites. Inbound missiles and plasma cannon shots filled the void and destroyed more friendly vessels; each side took a beating.

“Conn, TAO. CSV Roger Hamilton destroyed, sir,” Ruth called out, wincing as another escort vessel was erased from her plot.

“Steady, Lieutenant.”

“Conn, TAO! Aspect change, League battleships. They’re closing in, sir!”

“Estimated time to them ranging Unity’s weapons arrays?” David asked.

“Thirty seconds at range of approach, sir.”

David nodded. “Very good. Communications, signal Colonel Demood that in forty seconds, he is authorized for weapons free. His lead targets are the five Alexander class battleships approaching our battle line and the escorts directly protecting them. After that, take out anything left in range.”

“Aye aye, sir,” Jefferson said.

David stood up and walked behind Ruth’s console, staring down at her specialized tactical readout showing both battle lines. “TAO, show me the location of the Annihilator,” David commanded.

Ruth glanced at David quickly before tapping at her console; the display zoomed out to show a group of contacts set back from the main League force. “Here, sir. She’s sitting in the rear.”

“I would expect nothing less from the coward,” David said caustically. “I want the tactical network configured so we clear a path to the Annihilator. Seville isn’t getting out of here without paying the bill.”

“It would be quite nice to see the admiral in the stockade,” Aibek stated.

“What’s President Spencer always saying? Wanted, dead or alive? He needs to pay for the thousands who’ve died today,” David replied, his voice cold, without turning around. “TAO, firing-point procedures. Master Two-fifteen, Master Two-eighteen, and Master Two-oh-nine, forward magnetic cannons and neutron emitters.”

“Firing solutions set, sir.”

“TAO, line up alpha strikes from all fleet warships, synchronize firing sequences.”

“Aye aye, sir. Tactical network is active, fleet is reporting readiness,” Ruth said. David could see from looking over her shoulder almost all the icons representing starships in the CDF/RSN fleet were showing green, meaning they were ready to fire all primary weapons. He mentally counted down to five seconds before the League ships would be in optimum weapons range of the station.

“TAO, match bearings, shoot, all weapons, all ships.”

As David watched, Ruth pressed down on a single button, which alerted the fleet to fire and triggered the Lion’s weapons launch sequence at the same time. He felt the ship shudder under his feet as the massive magnetic cannons spoke as one, flinging small helicar-sized projectiles at the enemy fleet. League icons began to blink out as the fleet’s weapons found them.

David returned to his CO’s chair and sat down, pulling up his tactical plot. Then, all hell broke loose as Unity Station opened up with its dozens of weapons pods, thousands of missiles and plasma cannon turrets. Masses of League escorts—destroyers, frigates, and point defense corvettes—simply ceased to exist, exploding as they were ripped apart by the sheer intensity of the firepower directed at them.

Dear God, thank you for not letting us have to take on that station head-on, David pondered as the onslaught continued. Between the heavy cruisers of the fleet and the anti-capital ship weaponry on the station, three Alexander class battleships were destroyed, but most importantly in David’s mind, a large gap was created in the League’s battle line. He’d saved a full load of missiles and the Lion’s particle beams for when they were needed most.

“TAO, what’s the designation for the LSS Annihilator?” David asked, unable to zoom in far enough on his display to see its numerical code.

“Master Two, sir.”

“Navigation, intercept course, Master Two.”

“Aye, sir, intercept course set,” Hammond replied.

“Are you sure about this, sir? We have precious few escorting ships left. Neither side has much in the way of fighter craft left, so that evens it out, but still…our damaged ship versus the pride of the League fleet, which hasn’t so much as taken a single hit in this engagement?” Aibek asked, his voice quiet.

“It’s a risk, XO,” David allowed. “It’ll also end this battle in one fell swoop. Don’t forget, Seville’s still got ships out there that ran out to look for us. If they come back before we’ve consolidated our position, this will go the other way so fast, it’ll make your head spin.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Navigation, flank speed. TAO, firing point procedures, all weapons, Master Two.”

* * *

“Admiral, the Lion of Judah is heading directly for us,” the tactical officer on the Annihilator intoned, his voice almost in a panic.

Seville’s first reaction was that he should draw his sidearm and shoot the man in the head for his cowardice. But he’s right. The damn CDF has out-maneuvered us. How in the hell did they manage to capture the station from right under our nose? Seville forced his brain back to the problem at hand; the Lion was coming.

“Admiral, what should we do? Should we advance?” Strappi said quietly in his chair to Seville’s left.

Ignoring him, Seville instead turned toward the communications officer. “What is the last ETA of our reinforcements, Lieutenant?”

“Fifty-five minutes, sir,” was the female officer's reply.

In other words, too long. In fifty-five minutes, there won’t be a fleet left to reinforce. “Navigator, begin to plot a retreat vector for our fleet.”

“But, Admiral, we can’t just leave… they took the biggest space installation humans have ever constructed!” Strappi trilled.

As Seville was formulating the words to rebuke Strappi, the deck of the bridge shook under his feet, and he pitched forward, impacting the plating. “Report!” he shouted.

“Lion of Judah has fired her primary weapons at us, sir! Forward shields have collapsed, and we’ve taken damage to our hull,” the tactical officer answered.

“Spin up the wormhole drive and order the fleet to retreat.”

“But, Admiral, we can’t just run away,” Strappi responded, his voice quivering with fear.

“Would you rather be captured by the Terrans, Colonel? How would that be for morale?” Seville said, his voice dripping sarcasm, even with all the pandemonium around them.

“Of course, sir,” Strappi replied, suddenly seeming to realize his place.

“Jump as soon as we’re ready,” Seville commanded, staring straight ahead. Damn that man. The second time he’s bested me. If only those fools on the Social and Public Safety Committee would have listened to me, we’d be wiping up the last remnants of their fleet!

* * *

Simultaneously, on the bridge of the Lion of Judah, David leaned forward in his chair; they continued to close the distance with Seville’s flagship, and he could sense the League fleet was close to collapse. “Conn, TAO! Aspect change, Master Two! She’s powering up her Lawrence drives! Correction, all remaining enemy contacts are powering up Lawrence drives!”

“TAO, firing point procedures, aft VRLS, target Master Two. Make tubes one hundred twenty-one through two hundred forty ready in all respects, open outer missile doors.”

“Firing solutions confirmed, sir, requested tubes ready in all respects, outer doors are open.”

“TAO, Status of magnetic cannon reload?”

“Twenty seconds, sir.”

“Match bearings, shoot, all missiles.”

The ship shuddered as a hundred and twenty missiles roared out of the aft VRLS, heading straight toward the Annihilator. As they did, David saw League icons blinking out off the target plot; the signature associated with them indicated they were jumping out. Growling under his breath, he watched as the target disappeared. “TAO, redirect those missiles to the closest League vessels that haven’t completed spin up.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

More League ships exploded from the onslaught of the Lion’s missiles, and the rest of the fleet’s combined weapons complements, all while any vessels that could jumped out.

“Conn, Communications! Receiving a request for terms of surrender from the remaining League vessels!”

All the emotion, all the heartbreak, all the loss, came to a head right then and there as everyone on the bridge knew they had won—not the easy victory they’d assumed when the fleet left Canaan four days prior—but a resounding victory that came at great cost. From the most junior rating, all the way up to David himself, the bridge crew let out a guttural roar; clapping, shouts, jeers at the League, and praise for the fleet rang out.

David stood up, pumped his right fist in the air, and shouted, “Yeaaaaaaah!” He turned to Aibek and grabbed his left forearm with his right hand in the traditional Saurian style. “Nicely done, XO! Nicely done,” he said with a fierce grin. The pain is still there, the loss is still there, but the sacrifice was worth it. We earned this.

Ruth and Hammond exchanged high fives with each other while cheering; glancing to his left, David saw that even Jefferson was embracing a junior communications technician as the bridge rocked with joy.

Allowing the celebration to continue for a few seconds, David noticed Tinetariro looking at him with a raised eyebrow. He answered her unspoken question with a nod, indicating for her to get everyone back under control.

“As you were!” Tinetariro shouted. “Man your posts and prepare to receive POWs!”

“Aye aye, ma’am!” a junior crewman in the back of the bridge yelled out.

“Do I look like an officer to you, young man!” Tinetariro shouted, turning back toward him. “I work for a living! Get strapped into your seat, now!”

“Communications, signal the League ships to lower their shields, stop their engines, and prepare to be boarded. Round up any ship’s security personnel and Marines we’ve got left in the fleet.”

“Aye aye, sir!” Jefferson responded.

David turned and punched the button on his chair that engaged the 1MC. “Attention, all hands, this is your commanding officer. The League fleet has been defeated. Admiral Seville is on the run, all the way back to Earth. I couldn’t ask for a finer crew and a better performance in this dire hour. Godspeed, and keep it up.” David thought for just a moment he could hear the sound of thousands of soldiers cheering through the deck plating all around him and broke into an even bigger grin.

37

The following day, David was once again in the CO’s chair on the bridge of the Lion of Judah. The sight of Seville running away was a sight for sore eyes, but by no means was it the end of the war. That sobering fact left him unsettled after the sweet feeling of victory faded the night before. The fleet’s win was celebrated throughout the fleet and the Terran Coalition. Holonews footage of bells ringing throughout churches and houses of worship, coupled with massive celebrations breaking out in the streets on dozens of planets led every broadcast.

For the jump back into Canaan proper, David had something special in mind to honor those lost. “Navigation, status of Lawrence drive?”

“Lawrence drive coordinates laid in, sir.”

“Ship’s status, XO?”

“All departments are ready for the return to Canaan, sir,” Aibek answered. The wound on his head had healed nicely.

“Very well. Navigation, execute Lawrence drive jump.”

“Aye aye, sir,” Hammond said.

The lights dimmed on the bridge, and David felt the artificial wormhole generator straining to engage. After a few months on the ship and dozens of jumps, he could tell down to the second what stage of the cycle was occurring based on the vibrations felt through the deck plates. A few seconds later, the mighty warship entered its tunnel through the universe and popped out, only a few million kilometers from Canaan.

The customary several seconds of recharge and clearing of the sensor network occurred before Ruth populated the tactical plot with all friendly contacts. “Conn, TAO. Sensors online, no hostile contacts present.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” David replied; he glanced back toward Tinetariro. “Master Chief, did you remember your pipe?”

“Aye aye, sir,” Tinetariro replied in her deep British accent.

“Navigation, plot a course that puts the CSV Victory off our starboard quarter.”

“Aye aye, sir,” Hammond acknowledged.

“Communications, tie our 1MC into a fleet-wide transmission.”

“Aye aye, sir, you’re on live for fleet-wide and 1MC,” Taylor replied. He’d retaken his station for the first watch, though David felt he was quite subdued.

David spoke into the mic on his chair. “Attention on the ship, attention in the fleet. This is General David Cohen. I requested our course specifically take us around the CSV Victory, in part to honor the sacrifice made nearly twenty-eight years ago. Twenty-nine thousand, seven hundred and fourteen brave men and women made the ultimate sacrifice during the first battle of Canaan. They held the line, fought off the darkness, and gave everyone in the Terran Coalition hope we could achieve victory. I doubt any of those serving back then would think that today we’d still be at war. But we are. Today we return from another battle, victorious but having suffered severe losses. Tens of thousands soldiers again paid the ultimate price. As we pass by with the Victory to starboard and render honors, remember the sacrifice of all those so long ago, and remember the sacrifice of our fellows over the last four days. Never forget the price paid for our freedom, and never forget the heroes among us. Godspeed to you all, Cohen out.”

David glanced at Taylor. “Communications, switch me back to 1MC only, please.”

“You’re up, sir.”

“Attention, all hands, this is your commanding officer. Master Chief, if you please.”

Tinetariro stepped forward and put the bosun’s pipe to her lips, trilling out a warbling call.

“Attention, all hangars, open outer doors and man the sides. I say again, open outer doors and man the sides.” David cut the mic off and glanced toward Ruth. “TAO, load ceremonial blanks, all starboard side magnetic cannons.”

“Aye aye, sir, loading ceremonial blanks, all starboard-side magnetic cannons,” Ruth replied.

“TAO, lock starboard-side magnetic cannons into broadside position.”

“Aye aye, sir, blanks loaded, starboard-side magnetic cannons locked into broadside position.”

“Hangar bays report open, all sides manned, sir,” Taylor said.

“Outstanding, Lieutenant. TAO, display exterior holocamera image of CSV Victory on the central projector.”

“Aye aye, sir,” Ruth answered; a moment later, a holographic image of the old battleship, scarred from battle almost three decades ago and weathered by the passage of time, filled the large holographic projection tank on the bridge. An outsized flag of the Terran Coalition was attached to the destroyed bridge of the ship, held unfurled by a yardarm.

David stood. “Attention to colors!” All personnel on the ship who weren’t strapped into their consoles faced the flag and came to attention, him included. His hand came up to his brow, and he saluted with purpose. “As you were.”

“Conn, TAO. Passing CSV Victory in fifteen seconds on current course and speed, sir.”

“TAO, shoot, starboard magnetic cannons.”

A single volley of the ceremonial blanks was fired; they did nothing except produce puffs of smoke out of the barrels of the long railguns. Typically, the magnetic cannons didn’t produce any smoke as electromagnets launched the shells within them.

“Navigation, ETA to our berth?” David asked. The Lion took up the same docking space as a fleet carrier and there were only a couple of those available at any given time.

“Fifteen minutes, sir. We’re cleared for priority docking per the automated station dockmaster,” Hammond said.

“Very well,” David said, cueing the 1MC once more. “Attention, all hands, secure outer hangar doors. Man docking stations and prepare for spacedock.”

Aibek glanced at him. “Sir, I do not understand what you just did. Why did we open the outer docking bay doors and fire blanks into space?”

“It's our manner of rendering honors to the Victory. She was our flagship during the first battle of Canaan. The general who commanded our forces was killed on her bridge when it was wrecked by League fire. She lived just long enough to see the enemy vanquished. The ship was already obsolete—it fought in the Saurian/Terran Coalition war—and was due to be scrapped anyway. Civilian leaders decided to leave it in space as a memorial to the soldiers who died, for all eternity.”

“I understand. We have similar monuments,” Aibek said after thinking it over. “Human sentimentality runs very deep.”

“That it does,” David allowed, smiling. “It's one of our best features, I think. If we forget history, we’ll repeat it. If we remember, perhaps there’s hope for us yet.”

* * *

After rendering honors to the Victory, they’d docked successfully and offloaded the caskets that held the remains of those who died on the Lion. Emotionally drained, David returned to his quarters afterward and took his meal alone. Forcing himself to sleep, he woke up the next morning surprisingly refreshed; after working his way through his usual ritual, he got a hot mug of coffee from the officers’ mess and made his way to his day cabin. Determined to clear away as many easy administrative tasks as possible, before the paperwork and after-action report portion of his day began, he answered several requests with a simple “approved” or “denied.” The next item that popped up was from MGySgt Reuben Menahem, a name David didn’t readily recognize. When he tapped on the email, it filled his screen.

General Cohen,

Please review the attached after-action report. It is a true and accurate account of what happened in the control room of Unity Station. I decided to give this to you in the hopes that you could get through to Colonel Demood rather than the Judge Advocate General. I leave the matter in your hands.

– Master Gunnery Sergeant Reuben Menahem, Terran Coalition Marine Corps

Quickly skimming the attached document, David’s jaw dropped even as he was walking. What the heck got into Cal? Threatening to kill twenty thousand Leaguers, including thousands of civilians? As soon as he walked in the hatch to his office, he set the mug of coffee down and brought his wristcomm to his lips. “General Cohen to Colonel Demood.”

A moment later, Calvin’s voice came through loud and clear. “Demood here, sir.”

“Report to my office immediately.”

“Yes, sir, on my way,” Calvin replied, his voice cocky as usual.

David sat down heavily in his chair, pushing the tablet in front of him, its screen still showing the after-action report. There has to be some kind of rational explanation of this behavior. Cal would never follow through on a threat to kill twenty-thousand people. He’s a better man than that. He leaned back in his chair, eyes locking on to the ceiling. Over the decades, he’d seen incredible amounts of carnage both to the bodies and the minds of those he served with. The trauma, pain, and stress were like a ticking time bomb, which no one knew when it would finally catch up with them.

There was a loud knock on the hatch, to which David replied, “Come!”

The hatch swung open, revealing Calvin’s substantial form. He strode into the office, closing the hatch behind him and came to attention before David’s desk. “Colonel Calvin Demood reports as ordered, sir!”

“Have a seat, Colonel,” David said, his tone all business.

As Calvin sat down, he stared at David. “What can I do for you, sir?”

David slid the tablet across the desk. “You can start by explaining this to me.”

Calvin picked the tablet up and spent a few seconds reading it before tossing it down on the desk with obvious contempt. “I don’t understand the question, sir.”

“Is it true?”

“Yes, it’s true.”

“Are you seriously telling me you first put a gun to the head of a POW and threatened to kill her, before shooting a Leaguer in both kneecaps?”

“Yes, sir, I did,” Calvin replied, his lips tight.

David’s face betrayed his shock and his mouth dropped open. “After that, you threatened to kill twenty thousand enemy combatants as well as over five thousand civilians, taking steps to make good on the threat?”

“Guilty as charged, sir.”

David’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull. “What the hell, Calvin? We don’t do that.” The curse word flew out of his mouth, shocking him mentally. He saw red.

“Really? How many times has your ship blown a League ship out of space without so much as an escape pod being launched? You sure you want to start comparing kill counts, General?”

David sat back, unimpressed with his attitude. “That’s not the same, and you know it…” he replied forcefully before Calvin interrupted him.

“No, it’s not. It’s not the same as sighting down on another person, pulling the trigger, and seeing their head explode. You and the rest of the fleet fly boys get to sit back, press buttons, and kill tens of thousands of people. Try getting your hands dirty, sir, before you criticize me or my methods.”

David became very quiet for a moment, rage building within him. “Colonel, my first combat was against a League boarding party. I know exactly what it feels like to pull that trigger and see another human fall over like a bowling pin and have to live with myself afterward. I still see their faces in my nightmares. Don’t you dare tell me I don’t have the right to criticize you or your methods. Are you admitting to war crimes? You’re better than that. We’re all better than that. We’re the damn good guys. I put this uniform on to fight evil every day. I’ll be damned if I’ll allow you to dishonor it.”

Calvin’s face twisted into a snarl. “Would you have preferred I sat back and did nothing? We could have cleared the base one room at a time… How many of my Marines would’ve died, and how many more ships would’ve been destroyed?”

“If we adopt the tactics of the League, we become the League. I’d rather die right here, right now, than become the very thing I hate!” David shouted.

“Cheap words after the real soldiers won the fight for you, General, sir,” Calvin spat.

“What the hell happened to you, Colonel?”

“I got tired of watching my men get slaughtered. I got tired of the endless parades and funerals for the dead. I had a chance to affect the outcome of the battle and win it. So I did. Court-martial me, remove me from service; hell, shoot me if that’ll make you feel better, General, but I’d do it again in a heartbeat. The League is scum. They’re evil. They’ve murdered millions. Killing them is like taking out the trash. They have no innocents, no civilians. As far as I’m concerned, every last one of them is a target for me to kill.”

“That’s a load of bull. They’re forced to fight, they live in a state of near martial law. If anyone in the League dares to speak out against the government, they’re disappeared into the night, along with that person’s entire family. What you just said dishonors everything we stand for. To hear that come from someone wearing the uniform and symbols I hold so dear…makes me sick!” David thundered.

Calvin stood up, angrily throwing the chair back. “Screw you. The only reason you’re in charge is because your daddy had more balls than you’ll ever have and flew his ship into the side of Seville’s flagship. Go back to playing with buttons, General. Leave the real work to me and my men.”

As Calvin began to turn his back, the rage building in David unleashed. “I did not give you permission to depart this office, Colonel Demood. Turn your ass around and heave to. You will show proper respect to a superior officer!”

Calvin stopped and turned around after a moment. “Yes, sir,” he replied, exaggerating the words in a mocking tone.

“Now it’s my turn, Colonel. Your behavior is a disgrace to the Terran Coalition Marine Corps. It is a disgrace to the memories of the Marines who died under your command. It is a disgrace to the nearly fifteen thousand men and women who paid the ultimate price in the last seventy-two hours for our victory. The ends do not justify the means! That is the philosophy of the League, not of us! No matter what it takes, we do it the right way. You took an oath, Colonel. We all did. An oath to obey lawful orders, to abide by the uniform code of military justice. We took an oath to ourselves… To our country. And to God. I might be able to forgive you putting a gun to the soldier’s head. Threatening to kill civilians, shoving the man aside who tried to keep you from going over the line, and starting the process to kill twenty thousand people? That’s the actions of a monster, not of someone who wears this uniform!” David shouted at the top of his lungs.

“What are your orders, sir?” Calvin replied, rage painted over his face.

“That’s up to you, Colonel Demood. You have two options. Number one, I can refer this report to the Judge Advocate General’s office. At a minimum, you’ll be drummed out of the service in disgrace. Number two, you will immediately and with all haste proceed to the medical bay, request assignment of a psychotherapist, and get the help you need. The only reason that option is open to you is I believe that deep inside, you’re an honorable and decent man.”

Calvin’s face twisted all the more. “You want me to see a damn shrink?”

“I want the man I know and respect to get the help he needs before he’s gone and some evil creature incapable of defining right from wrong takes his place.”

“Anything else, sir?” Calvin forced out through gritted teeth.

“Report back to me when you’ve made your decision, Colonel. Dismissed!”

Without another word, Calvin spun on his heel, walked to the hatch, threw it open, and stormed out, slamming the hatch as loudly as he could behind him.

David was left staring at the closed door, his face red, pulse pounding. God, please help Calvin. He’s lost, and he needs to find his way back. I can’t force him to get help, but please guide him to the path.

* * *

What does that sorry sack of shit know about what I do? Calvin mentally raged to himself as he stormed through the corridor leading to the gravlift on deck one. He roughly shoved a junior enlisted soldier out of the way, then cued the lift to take him to deck seventeen: Marine country. I’ve defended the Terran Coalition for over twenty years. I’ve watched my Marines die around me, I’ve buried too many friends to count. My Marines and I won the battle for these fleet pansies. Now they’ve got the balls to tell me my methods were terrible? Screw ‘em all!

Somewhere deep inside, another voice entered Calvin’s mind. But what if he’s right? What if what I did was wrong? What if I’ve become a mirror of the very enemy I swore to defeat?

Pushing the voice down, Calvin strode out of the lift and fast walked toward the Marine officer’s gym. Reaching the hatch, he waited for it to automatically open and went in. Set on reaching the closest punching bag, he walked up to it and punched the bag so hard, his fist went through the leather.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!” he screamed at the top of his lungs, drawing stares from the other Marines in the room.

Calvin threw another series of punches into the bag before kicking it roundhouse style. The kick knocked it off its mount and sent the bag flying onto the floor, its ballast spilling out.

“Sir, are you okay?” one of the junior officers nearest to Calvin asked.

“Do I look okay to you?” Calvin shouted back. “I am sick and tired of some puke from the CDF telling me what I should and shouldn’t do in the face of the League of Sol!”

Taking out his frustration on the next punching bag in line, he drove his fist into it repeatedly, drawing back bloodied knuckles. He picked up a dumbbell and tossed it like a ragdoll across the gym. “Screw them!” he shouted before uttering a string of oaths. “I hate them all! I hate the League! Kill every stinking one of them! Kill their women! Kill their children! When that’s done, shoot their damn dogs and level every planet!”

By now, every Marine in the gym had stopped and was staring, many with open mouths at Calvin’s behavior.

“Sir, perhaps you should sit down,” the same young officer said, his eyes wide open in shock.

“I don’t want to freaking sit down, Lieutenant! I want to go bust something’s skull in!”

You can’t go on like this, Calvin, the voice said within. Turning your back on what you know to be just and true has only made you like the enemy you profess to hate.

“No!” Calvin shouted before he picked up the rack of dumbbells and tossed it across the gym. Seeing no other way to expel his rage, he stormed back out of the gym and down the passageway.

Wandering around the ship for what seemed like hours, Calvin shoved people out of the way, muttered his way through several gravlifts, and had no real destination in mind. The blinding red rage just wouldn’t retreat like it usually did when the battle was over. At some point, he put his hands to his face and hung his head. What the hell is wrong with me?

You’ve ignored right and wrong for too long, the voice within him said. It’s not too late to get help.

Looking up, Calvin saw he was standing outside of the expansive medical bay. I don’t need a damn shrink.

Then what do you need? Booze? Drugs? More killing?

In that instant, Calvin suddenly realized he was melting down. Filled with shame, he nearly fell into the hatch and stumbled through it into the medbay. Shocked medical personnel stared at him and his disheveled appearance. Doctor Tural rushed out of his office and walked up.

“Colonel… General Cohen told me you’d be coming. Please, come with me.”

The memory of killing the League interrogator so many years ago flashed through his mind, followed by the images of shooting the kneecaps of the prisoner aboard Unity station. Over and over, his mind forced Calvin to accept what he had done. Shocked, disgusted with himself, he shook his head and reached for the sidearm he kept on his right leg. Pulling it out in a practiced, fluid motion, he put it under his chin. “Not sure I’ve got any business staying here, Doctor.”

Now you’re going to take the coward’s way out? the voice asked.

“Colonel,” Tural began. “There’s no need for that. No matter what you’ve done, no matter what happened, it is not for us to end our life. Put your sidearm down,” the older man said in a quiet yet soothing tone.

Do not fear, I am with you. David and the rest of them will help you, Calvin heard the voice say.

“No one is with me. I’m alone. I’ve always been alone. Just my Marines and I,” Calvin said, not quite as loud, still holding the gun under his chin.

Nurses and medical technicians backed away from the scene, taking cover behind triage beds and desks. Tural stayed a beacon of calm, his voice clear and steady. “Colonel Demood, please. Put down your sidearm.” He advanced, slowly making his way closer.

God has plans for you, plans that will help you, the voice said.

Tural reached Calvin and put his right hand over the sidearm and took Calvin’s hands in his. “Let me have it.” There was no resistance as the gun slowly fell while tears streamed down his face. Tural carefully kept it from falling to the floor before clearing the chamber of the live round within it. He then dropped the magazine out.

Calvin quietly stood there sobbing.

“It’ll be okay, Colonel,” Tural said, stepping forward and embracing the tough Marine. “We’ll get you help. I promise you, by Allah.”

38

After a restless sleep lasting less than six hours, David found himself going through his morning ritual on autopilot. Second nature, it was merely what he did every single morning. Every once in a while, he’d change something up; the order in which he did things before his shower, for instance, after once reading a scientific paper suggesting it helped the brain stay effective as one aged by changing up routines. Today, though, he was trying to make it through the day. The wildly varying emotions continued to rock him. They’d won and won big. At the same time, the cost had been incredibly high. Picking up a plate with scrambled eggs on it, toast, and a big mug of coffee, he walked through the officers’ mess nearest the bridge, looking for an empty table. Seeing Ruth sitting by herself, he trotted over.

“Lieutenant, may I join you?”

Ruth glanced up from her tablet and nearly spilled the mug of hot coffee she held. “Of course, sir!”

David smiled and sat his tray down before dropping into the empty seat. “You know, we’re not on the bridge.”

“I’m still not quite used to your more relaxed way of doing things, sir,” Ruth replied.

“Well, we’ve been working together for going on a year now. While I insist on formality on the bridge, and especially in combat, outside of that, there’s got to be some downtime.”

“Is that an order, sir?” Ruth asked brightly.

David shook his head while smirking. “Well played.”

Ruth laughed in return. “How are you holding up?”

“One day at a time,” David said before bowing his head and praying over the food.

After David had finished, Ruth continued the conversation. “I know… I found myself thinking this morning that the victory was great, but the cost. I question the cost.”

“Same here, but I remain convinced our cause is just. I also pray my children, should I ever have any, won’t have to fight this war because we’ll have won it for them.”

“Sounds nice in theory, but we have to live through it first,” Ruth responded.

“What about you? How are you holding up?”

“I’m okay, I guess. I read the list of causalities this morning, trying to see if I knew anyone. The few I did, I wrote a short note to their families. It seems after a while, it becomes numb.”

David nodded his understanding. “We have to be careful not to become numb to the horror of war, though. Otherwise, we’ll start either liking it or we’ll become twisted by it.”

“Like Colonel Demood?”

David raises his eyebrows sharply. “Come again?”

“It’s all over the ship, sir… he was stomping through the ship cussing your name yesterday, then he visited the doc shack and hasn’t been heard from since.”

David winced in spite of himself. “I’d rather not talk about it, if it’s all the same. It wouldn’t be right to.”

“I figured as much, sir. I hope he’s going to be okay. Demood is a good Marine.”

“Now that I can agree with,” David replied, glancing out into space. “Soon, we will rotate back to Canaan on liberty, get some much-needed repairs and downtime for the crew.”

David’s wrist communicator went off in between bites of food, indicating a text message.

“Another opportunity for us to save the galaxy?”

“No,” David commented, rolling his eyes. “Our resident reporter wants to use the comms room for a private conversation back to Canaan.”

“And you’re going to let her?”

“I don’t see a reason not to. I’d wager that her bosses want to talk about that stunt we all pulled.”

Ruth laughed. “You’ve got a soft spot for her. If anyone else on this ship asked you for that kind of favor out of turn, especially a civilian, you’d tell them to pound sand.”

David suddenly felt quite self-conscious. Ruth, after all, did have a point. “Perhaps. But I feel like we owe her something. Besides, aren’t you two friends?”

Ruth shrugged. “We are, but I still distrust reporters. Admittedly, she’s one of the better ones. Got any plans for our shore leave back on Canaan?”

“I’m going to track down some of the families of those killed in this battle, the ones who live on Canaan at least, and pay my respects.”

Ruth’s face morphed into a frown. “You know, sir, it’s not your fault.”

“It doesn’t matter whose fault it is,” David said. Of course it’s my fault. I ordered them to their deaths. “The least I can do is tell their families they didn’t die in vain.”

“I think most of them know it, sir. After all, we’re all in, as they say, on this war. No one escapes the draft unless you have a genius IQ level or you’re unable to serve for mental or physical reasons. And even if you don’t serve in the CDF, they find something for you to do.”

David smirked a bit. “Yes, the government is very good at enforcing that particular rule. I don’t doubt you’re right, and most of those families understand what’s at stake. I think most of our citizens understand that if we don’t win, there’s no tomorrow. If we surrender today, there’s another holocaust. If the League surrendered, we’d all go home.” David paused for a moment as his expression turned somber. “But I know having someone come and tell you that your loved one made a difference, after the extended family goes home and the honor guard is gone… I know it means something because it meant something to my mother and me.”

“I can see that, sir. I just never got to experience it.”

“Be the change you want to see in the galaxy,” David replied with a smile. “Now what’s on your agenda for today?”

“I’ll be working with Doctor Hayworth, Major Merriweather, and the contractors on devising a way to link our scientific sensor arrays into the point defense system, and from there create a new fire control algorithm that allows for automated targeting and destruction of those confounded League stealth mines.”

“Sounds like a good use of our time, though, from what Hayworth was saying, it will take a while.”

“Having to work with Doctor Hayworth for any length of time is a wonderful motivator to finish the task quickly, sir,” Ruth deadpanned with a somber expression.

David couldn’t help but laugh loudly, which in turn affected Ruth and caused her to break out in laughter as well. “Game, set, match, Lieutenant,” he said as he stood, gripping his finished plate. “I’ll see you on the bridge later.”

“Yes, sir! Enjoy the paperwork, sir,” Ruth called after him with a grin on her face.

* * *

David strode into the communications room on the Lion and the young enlisted personnel sprang to attention. He smiled in spite of himself, remembering many years ago when he was the wet-behind-the-ears private that would do the same when a senior officer walked in. “As you were,” he intoned. The youngsters relaxed from attention and went back to their work.

“Which communication booth is Ms. Dinman using?” David asked.

“Uh, the third one, sir,” a private said, looking terrified. This was not a space the CO visited regularly.

“Thank you, Private Abun,” David replied again with a smile before he turned and walked into the larger communications area that housed several dozen comms booths, which allowed for private, one-on-one vidlinks. Opening the door to the booth clearly marked with a large “3,” David stuck his head inside. “Hello, Angie.”

Angie looked up at him startled. “Hi.” She furrowed her brow. “How did you know I was here?”

David smirked. “Well, as the commanding officer, all requests from civilians to use our communications system go through me… especially ones that go back to Canaan and are paid by an executive with GNN. I deduced you were being called on the carpet for what we did, and well, here I am.”

Angie shook her head. “You mean what I did.”

“I put you up to it.”

“David… I put out fake news,” Angie replied, her voice tight.

“It wasn’t fake news, it was disinformation.”

“Like that makes it better? Actually, that’s worse. I intentionally helped the military put out propaganda.”

“May I come in?” David asked.

“I suppose,” Angie replied, her voice still tight and curt.

David walked in and sat down next to her. “You helped us gain one of the largest victories ever achieved over the League.”

“At what cost? GNN prides itself on telling the truth and not being a front for the CDF’s public relations office.”

“Which is precisely why your report was taken as fact by the League. I remind you, it’s not a lie to deceive the enemy.”

Angie’s face turned to a frown. “If you’re trying to make me feel better, you’re doing a horrible job.”

David sighed. “Angie, look… I came here to help. I’ll take the heat for what happened. I asked you to do it, and I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

“I appreciate that. But I made the decision.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have told you what we were up to…” David mused out loud.

“Seriously? Lie to me too?”

“It would have at least protected you.”

“I’m a big girl, and I can take care of myself,” Angie shot back.

David laughed. “So you keep reminding me.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want you to think I’m just a pretty civilian you need to protect.”

“You’ve quite disabused me of that notion over the last few months,” David retorted.

Angie softened her facial expression, and a small smile appeared. “I’m sorry. It’s just hard to fit in here.”

“I think you’ve done fine.”

“Thanks. You sure you want to do this with me?”

David nodded. “Very. I don’t allow anyone to take the heat for me.”

Angie rolled her eyes at David. “Try not to get me fired. I actually like this job.”

“No promises.”

Angie chuckled as she pressed the final button on the communications panel to fire off the request for video transmission to her boss, the news director for GNN, Harold Washington. A testament to Terran Coalition ingenuity and technology, a few seconds later, his face appeared on the screen in front of them. David could see the man’s cheeks twitch when he realized David was in the room as well.

“General Cohen, Angie. Good to see you both, though I wasn’t aware that you were joining us, General.”

I tire of people that like to beat up on others but run away when confronted by someone of similar authority. “Mr. Washington, I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of meeting before this. I asked Ms. Dinman to allow me to join in at the last second.”

“I see, General. I’ll cut right to the chase, then. I’m not sure about the sequence of events, but GNN believes the military used us to deliver propaganda. We’re not happy about it, nor are we amused.”

Angie cut in, “Harold, they asked us to… to decoy out the League fleet, which was guarding Unity Station.”

“I understand why the request was made. What I don’t understand is why you went along with it, especially without consulting your superiors.”

David cleared his throat. “Mr. Washington, the Lion of Judah, at that time, was under a complete comms blackout. EMCON Alpha. Ms. Dinman was unable to contact you, at my order. Let me be very clear, I ordered her to send the news report. Was it incorrect? To an extent. We did have numerous ships that were battle damaged.”

“You had us put a report on air saying most of your force wasn’t combat ready, right before launching an attack. That’s the very definition of propaganda, General,” Washington shot back, his face turning red as his anger showed.

“God forbid you did something to help us win the war,” David remarked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Our job isn’t to win the war, it’s to report on the war, and other aspects that are newsworthy in the universe, General.”

“Oh, of course. It just so happens that any time the CDF takes a beating, that’s front-page news. We win? You push it to the back of the line. I’m not here to debate your news practices, Mr. Washington. I’m here to tell you that your reporter did her job, and while she may have delivered a report with inaccuracies in it, from the CDF’s point of view, her report was one of the key reasons we won. Surely this carries some weight with your organization?”

Angie looked at David, her face showing a frown. “Hello…I’m still here, guys. I did what I did. Harold, if you need to punish me for it, so be it. Just get it over with.”

David whipped his head around, staring at her, his eyebrow raised. Harold was the first to speak. “I’m not entirely unsympathetic to what happened here. Why don’t you take a three-month leave of absence, and then we can discuss a new position?”

Before Angie could respond, David interjected, “Not no, but heck no. If you force her out over this, I’ll go around and give interviews on every holonews channel that’ll have me and drag you through the mud personally for demeaning a true hero of the Terran Coalition.”

For the first time, Washington sputtered. “Excuse me, General… you can’t do that. It’s against the law for a military officer to engage in political activity.”

David smiled thinly. “Oh, there won’t be anything political about it. You news people love a good story… I’ll get one started and give it a good push. Your choice.”

David felt Angie’s eyes boring into him and glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. Her face was red, and her eyes were flashing anger.

“No leave of absence, but it's off the table for her to continue covering your ship. If nothing else, your full-throated defense of her gives me serious questions about her impartiality going forward.”

“Done,” Angie said loudly.

David turned to stare at her.

“Harold’s right. I’ve grown attached to this ship and the people who serve on her. I’ve become part of the story. It’s the worst thing a reporter can do.”

David nodded, in spite of his feelings, turning back toward the screen. “She gets her pick of assignments. Are we clear on that, Mr. Washington?”

“I believe you military types like to hear ‘crystal’ back, is that right?”

David smiled broadly. “Yes, we do.”

“She’ll get her choice of good assignments. You have my word.”

“Good. I think we’re done here,” David said, eager to get the man off the comms.

“Yes, we are. Good day, General, Angie.”

“Good day, Harold. Godspeed.”

As the display blinked off, David stared at Angie openly. “Since when do you say ‘Godspeed’?”

“I don’t know... I just picked it up. Hanging out around you theists all the time,” Angie commented, pausing a moment before continuing. “What the heck was that? I told you I could handle myself.”

“I’ve no doubt you can. But I take care of those under my command.”

“I’m not under your command.”

“You were when you made that report.”

“Ugh. You know, so many things were so clear to me before I was assigned to this ship.”

“And now?” David asked.

“I’m much less sure about them after experiencing what life is like out here, for three months.”

“It’s easy to be an idealist in a vacuum. It's far harder to be one when the rubber meets the road, and it’s a matter of life and death.”

“How do you manage not to compromise your beliefs? I mean, in that battle, you could’ve resorted to many tactics that would’ve won it, at a lower cost to us.”

“You mean like nuking the base with enough warheads to reduce it to atoms?”

“For one.”

David shook his head. “If we adopt the tactics of the League, we become the League. It's easy to cut corners, defend your actions as the end justifying the means, and to say it’s just war. It’s hard to do what’s right. It’s even harder to do what’s right when you know the cost will be higher. But if we don’t… we’ll become exactly what we say we’re fighting against.”

“I’m glad I don’t have to make those decisions.”

“I look forward to the day none of us have to anymore. I hope to live to see the day when we beat our swords into plowshares, and our children no longer know war.”

“Do you think we’ll ever get there?”

David shook his head. “I don’t know. But I have to have hope we will. Otherwise, getting up every day and continuing to kill my fellow humans… I don’t think I could handle it.” David smiled. “Enough about that. Where are you going to go?”

“I think I’m going to try to get a spot covering the upcoming election.”

“Politics?” David said the word like it had a bad taste.

“Why not? You don’t think I can handle politicians?”

“I’d rather fight the League than deal with politicians,” David deadpanned.

“You seem to like President Spencer well enough.”

“He’s not a politician, though. At least, I don’t view him as a used helicar salesman.”

Angie laughed. “I’ve never met him.”

“I have a couple of times. Decent man… he wore the uniform for ten years. He knows what sacrifice means, and he saw combat. A lot of it. When he asks me to put my life on the line, and my crew’s life on the line, I believe he knows what he’s asking.”

“Does that mean you don’t think someone who hasn’t served should be in politics?”

David shrugged. “Not many people that haven’t served at this point, but no. I don’t think you should be able to be the commander-in-chief of the Terran Coalition without at least having put on the uniform, gone through boot camp, and spent some time serving something greater than yourself.”

Angie nodded thoughtfully. “I’m not sure I agree, but I do see your point.”

“Politics it is, then. Any idea where you will be posted?”

“Probably Canaan. That’s the seat of the government, after all.”

David grinned. “I suppose I’ll run into you from time to time, then.”

Angie cocked her head to one side. “Are you trying to suggest something, General?”

Oh, snap. I let that go a little too far. “Uh, well, no, just that we could catch up on events from time to time.” His face turned blood red.

Angie raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think you’re telling me everything. Especially considering how red your face is now.”

Might as well go for it… “Well… maybe you’d like to have dinner sometime?” David replied with a lame smile.

“See…wasn’t too hard now, was it?”

David smirked. “I suppose not.”

“Only took you two months.”

David’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull. “You knew?”

“You’re kind of easy to read… at least when you’re not in combat.”

David chuckled. “I guess so. Well, it would have been highly improper for me to ask you out while you were serving on my ship…”

“I respect you for drawing that line,” Angie replied as she stood. “Give me a yell after you finish up all your after-action reports. I like steaks.”

David laughed. “It’s not quite that simple.”

“What do you mean it’s not quite that simple?”

“I’m an Orthodox Jew.”

“So?” Angie asked.

“On the ship, I am excused from some of the dietary rules simply because we’re at war, I have no other choice of what to eat, and I must have food to live. Planetside, there’s plenty of places to obtain kosher food. I cannot eat anywhere that doesn’t follow Jewish dietary rules.”

“What about halal?”

David shook his head. “Halal and kosher aren’t the same. Similar, yes, but not the same. I’m afraid we’ll be limited to kosher restaurants.”

“Wow, that takes some commitment.”

“Not even the half of it… there are six hundred and thirteen Mitzvot,” David explained. Seeing her puzzled look, he explained further. “Mitzvot means commandments. There’s a lot of them.”

“Okay, fine. You pick a place and I’ll give kosher a try.”

David grinned. “Deal,” he said as he stood up.

Walking out of the small booth first, Angie followed behind.

“Good day, General Cohen,” Angie said with a twinkle in her eye.

“Good day, Ms. Dinman,” David replied, watching her turn and walk off. Oh my, what have I gotten myself into now? He walked out of the communications area and headed back up to the bridge, a bright smile creasing his face.

39

A few days later, the Lion was drydocked in one of the orbital shipyards over Canaan, her superstructure crawling with workers, fixing hull breaches, scorch marks, and damage evident throughout the ship. The somber ritual of removing the dead had been accomplished, and life had returned to normal for the crew. David found himself walking through the labyrinth of offices on the central CDF space station, heading to General MacIntosh’s office. His mind wandered as he wandered down endless passageways and rooms filled with cubicles. The emotional toll from the war kept threatening to catch up to him yet again, as it had after Sheila died. While the crisis of faith he’d experienced between the two recent battles had retreated, his soul remained troubled. Pausing for a moment before entering the office cluster marked “General Andrew MacIntosh, Program Executive Office, CDF Space Fleet Innovation,” he collected his thoughts and forced his face into a neutral expression.

Stepping through the open hatch, MacIntosh’s longtime aide, Major Roberts, smiled at him. “Greetings, Colonel. The general is waiting for you,” she said as she gestured to the inner door. David thought it odd that two men in suits, who were security forces of some sort judging by the bulges under their outfits and the earpieces they wore, were standing in the waiting area.

“Thank you, Major. Good to see you again,” David replied with a grin of his own as he passed through the small room and the doors to MacIntosh’s office opened automatically. He walked into the office and froze as he took in the sight of President Spencer as well as General MacIntosh. He brought himself to attention immediately while crisply saying, “General David Cohen reports as ordered, sir.”

“At ease, General,” Spencer said as the doors slid shut. There was only one other person in the room, one of the president’s bodyguards.

David relaxed to a parade rest stance. “I apologize, sir. I didn’t realize you would be here, or I would have worn a different uniform,” he said with a wry smile. He wore a khaki uniform with a navy blue space sweater. If I’d known the president was going to be here, I would’ve worn my class As, at least.

“We both wanted to congratulate you in private, David,” MacIntosh began as he snapped open a small cloth-covered case to reveal a medal within. “In recognition of your bravery, heroism, and leadership during both battles for Unity Station, you’re being awarded the Coalition Defense Force Cross, with the V device for extraordinary valor.”

Spencer reached out his hand toward MacIntosh. “Allow me, General.”

David stood silently while the president attached the medal to his uniform in the proper position, then braced to attention once more. “Thank you, sir. I must say, sir, those who deserve the credit for our victory are the crew of the Lion of Judah, and the crews of all the ships who fought, and especially our Marines. Without the capture of Unity Station by the Marine and Space Special Warfare Operators, we wouldn’t be here to tell the tale.”

“Modest to a fault, General,” Spencer replied with a smile. “Have a seat, son. Andrew and I want to have a few words with you and get your thoughts on the war before the planners get ahold of the next phase.”

David waited for the two other men to sit first. He then joined them and placed his hands in his lap. “I’ll help any way I can, sirs.”

“First things first. Have you given any thought to your position after this battle?” Spencer asked.

“Well, sir, I assumed I’d stay in command of the Lion of Judah.”

“We were considering making your brevet rank permanent, if you desire. It’d come with a different posting, though, most likely to the war planning committee,” MacIntosh explained.

David shook his head. “If I have any input on the matter, sir, I’d prefer to remain with the Lion. I believe my contribution to the war is best made from the front. Rank doesn’t matter to me.”

“I was hoping you’d say that, General,” MacIntosh commented dryly. “You still need some seasoning at O-6 before we move you up.”

“Of course, sir,” David replied with a twinge of color creeping into his cheeks.

“That settles it, then. As of 1100 hours today, your brevet will expire,” Spencer interjected. “Now, tell us what happened out there.”

“Overconfidence perhaps? I think we were all pretty certain we were going to fly in there and put the hurt on the League. The appearance of the mines was a massive shock, but in the end, and at great cost, we won the day. I put that on the dedication, training, and motivation of our troops.”

“Did the Saurians show any signs of giving up?” Spencer questioned.

“Not at all, sir. If anything, after the death of Admiral Kartal, they were even more energetic. I saw absolutely no evidence of the Royal Saurian Navy doing anything but prosecuting the war to the fullest possible extent.”

“We were concerned that with the loss of the admiral, on top of so many ships at once, they might be reevaluating the alliance. There’s been some calls in their version of the press for backing out, along with protests against ‘helping the chimps’,” MacIntosh said.

“They do realize we’re not chimpanzees, right?” David asked with a chuckle.

“It’s been their go-to slur for us for a couple of hundred years. There’ll always be some segment, no matter how small, of their population that looks at us as the ones who wrecked the perfect Saurian empire,” Spencer said. “There’s another matter we need to discuss, David. I understand there was an incident involving Colonel Demood?”

David glanced uncomfortably at MacIntosh, then back to Spencer. He assumed the report he’d sent to General MacIntosh had been shared with the president. “Um, well, sir. I received a message from one of the Marines under his command, and I discussed the matter with Colonel Demood. He’ll be receiving treatment for acute PTSD.”

“I realize your desire to protect Colonel Demood, David. However, I need to know right now what he did, and how bad it was.”

David cleared his throat. Dang it, I can’t lie to the President of the Terran Coalition, and I can’t toss Calvin under the bus either. “Sir, I believe Colonel Demood lost control of himself and acted outside of CDF regulations in obtaining the access codes for Unity Station.”

“You mean he threatened to kill twenty thousand people, including civilians?” MacIntosh asked directly.

“Yes, sir. But if I may…” David began before MacIntosh cut him off in mid-word.

“You may not. I realize you respect Demood, and I realize both of you have saved each other’s lives more than a few times. That is no excuse for what I read in your report. Not to mention, I don’t believe it’s entirely the full picture.”

“It’s all there, sir. I questioned multiple officers regarding the events in the control room. Colonel Demood shot a League officer in the kneecaps, in addition to the station inhabitants he threatened to kill.”

“No one tried to stop him?” Spencer asked in dismay.

“They did, sir. Lieutenant Taylor begged him to stop and attempted to relieve him of command. His senior enlisted Marine tried to intervene as well.”

MacIntosh’s face clouded over. “I am profoundly disappointed to hear this.”

“Sir… I’ve wrestled with it. I know what he did was wrong. I also know without the weapons of that station, we wouldn’t have won. At least, it would have cost far more and broken our fleet. I don’t have an answer for you. I know what my conscience says, and I believe I’d never stoop to those lows. Something’s very wrong with Demood, though. He needs help, not the inside of a prison cell. He knows what he did was wrong… let’s not forget he put a gun to his head and had to be talked down.”

“There’s a reason why we say that war is hell,” Spencer said as he glanced between the two of them. “It warps and twists us, no matter how good or moral we try to be. God help us all, but this can’t see the light of day.”

“Mr. President—” MacIntosh began.

“Andrew, I already know what you’re going to say. And you’re right. We should prosecute Demood to the fullest extent of the law. What if we did? I suspect we’d lose most of our support in the neutral planets. The Saurians might walk, not because they disapprove, but because they’d find us weak. No, this is a secret we have to keep.”

“What if the people in that control room talk?” MacIntosh asked. “Play it out to the bitter end. It’d be worse than coming clean now.”

“A chance we’ll have to take.”

David looked at the floor. “I’m sorry, sirs. I should’ve realized something was wrong. I mean, I knew he was troubled. I thought it was just depression from losing all those Marines.”

“That’s what you get for assuming, General,” MacIntosh said tightly. “Let this be a lesson to you. Demood is on light duty for six months. No combat, no interaction with enemy personnel. Do not cross me on this.”

“Yes, sir.”

“We’ll evaluate him during that period,” Spencer interjected. “He’ll never return to duty unless a panel of shrinks clear him for combat. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I don’t like it, Mr. President,” MacIntosh stated in his gravelly tone. “We have to hold ourselves to the highest level of account. If we’re going to lay claim to the idea that we’re a nation of laws, driven by right and wrong, and define that with the moral codes of our religions, then we’d damn well better live up to it.”

“Noted, Andrew. We’ll see how Demood does in treatment. David, if he’s cleared and ever so much as steps out of line, you will pay the price.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now that that’s settled,” Spencer said, changing the subject, “we have a new ship class coming down the pipeline. General MacIntosh and his team have been taking the real-life information you’ve collected from the anti-matter reactor on the Lion, and they’ve created a smaller anti-matter reactor that is just as capable.”

David glanced toward MacIntosh as the older general waited patiently for the president to explain. That was almost too easy. I fear MacIntosh has lost respect for me. I wonder if I’m losing respect for myself… going over the line, making excuses for others.

“We’re going to put them in our new heavy cruisers,” MacIntosh explained. “They’ll be faster off the assembly lines, and we can get more of them in the field. We hope to have twelve of them commissioned and performing shakedown cruises within the next six months. That’s important to you because we’re going to create a battlegroup that’s made up of exclusively anti-matter powered starships. You will be the sharp tip of the spear invading the League’s core systems.”

A much-needed offensive and defensive firepower augmentation. At the same time, no rest for the Lion’s crew. We’ll see the worst of it, all the way to Earth. “It’s exciting news, sir. I know I speak for the entire crew of the Lion of Judah when I say we’d be honored to lead the way.”

“The next six months will give us time to make good on our recent losses, as well as deploy our latest generation of upgrades to the Ajax class destroyers. We’re up to block five now, and according to the test results I’ve seen, each one is twice as capable as a block one or two boat. We’ve also been allowing the Saurians to make some of our ships on contract… that’ll be a nasty surprise to our friends in the League.”

“The technology race is as important as ever. It very well may be the margin for success, or failure. But that’s up to Andrew and his program executive office,” Spencer said while flashing a smile at MacIntosh. “Your mission for the next few months, once you’ve completed your refit, that is, will be to fly the flag among our recently liberated systems and the neutral worlds. Our hope is that the purging of the League for our arm of the galaxy will allow us to cajole many of those planets into joining us, or at the very least, joining the Canaan Alliance.”

Oh great, we get to babysit diplomats now. Our best place is on the front, not in the rear. “Of course, sir, wherever we can best serve.”

“Don’t worry, David,” Spencer commented, apparently sensing his unease. “We’re not going to stick you on PR duty. We just have to see to our frontier, and the best ship for the task is our symbol of victory; the Lion of Judah. It’ll give you an opportunity to do something besides combat for a while and allow your crew some time to recuperate.”

“Sir, are there any projections yet for how long the invasion of the League will take, causalities, etc.?” David asked.

“Depends on who you ask. Some planners believe the outlying League planets will welcome us as liberators. Others believe we’ll face a scorched earth fight the entire way, having to clear out every last League soldier on each planet we invade. In the end, it doesn’t matter. Defeating the League once and for all is the only option we have, short of a peace treaty that imposes harsh restrictions on their ability to project power.”

David nodded as Spencer spoke. “It could take years, perhaps decades.”

“It’s a sobering thought. I believe the League’s planets will start melting away once we’re knocking on the door,” MacIntosh said.

“I hope you’re right, Andrew. But in the eighteen months I have left in office, I’m going to do everything I can to leave this fight set up properly for the next president,” Spencer commented as he turned back toward David. “Thank you for sharing your thoughts with us, General Cohen. Your insight is greatly valued, and in the coming months, you’ll be called on to help us craft a strategy to defeat the League, even as you remain as the Lion’s commanding officer.”

“I’ll do everything I can to help defeat the League sir,” David said with finality.

“Enjoy your last few hours of being a general,” MacIntosh commented wryly. “We’ll see about giving it back one of these days.”

David smiled politely; he wished his father could’ve seen him wearing the star. “Yes, sir!”

“Very well, Mister Cohen, you are dismissed,” MacIntosh replied.

David stood and braced to attention before turning on his heel and walking out of the office. Yeah, Dad would have loved to see this day. Maybe he can see it from wherever he’s at now. I can live in hope of that. He walked out down the maze of passageways toward the shuttle berths. The coming months would present a new challenge, but one he was ready to face.

40

After departing the station, David had a 1000 CMT meeting with Hanson already scheduled in his day cabin, which he ended up having to jog through the ship to make. Getting to his desk with only a couple of minutes to spare, he sat with a sigh. Realizing he was very thirsty, he popped open the mini-frig he kept underneath one side of the desk, pulled out a bottle of chilled water, and downed it in one gulp.

A couple of minutes later, Hanson walked through the open hatch. “Good morning, sir.”

“Good morning, Major. Have a seat,” David replied, watching Hanson as he first closed the hatch to the office, then dropped into the seat nearest his desk. “Thank you for joining me. I wanted to discuss your after-action report, and some items related to our refit.”

“Of course, sir. What would you like to start with?”

“After-action report. I read in your notes that we had repeated problems with coolant failures and overloads of the capacitors for primary weapons and shields.”

“Yes, sir. In our first engagement, after shields were lost, one of the mine explosions caused catastrophic damage to our primary cooling and anti-matter containment system. If it wasn’t for the heroic actions of several crewmembers, the ship could have been lost, or left combat ineffective at best,” Hanson stated.

“You singled out Private Doris Hunter for heroism.”

“Yes… she stayed at her post and manually shunted coolant into the reaction chamber. Even after everyone else cleared out with the alarms showing an explosion warning… it cost her both legs and her right hand.”

“I gave her a Purple Heart a before the second battle at Unity,” David replied, thinking back to the young private who had encouraged him to keep going and not feel sorry for her.

“I’d like to submit her for the Medal of Honor.”

“Of course. It’ll take some time to process.”

“Roughly two years. In the meanwhile, could you give her something else?”

“You name it.”

“Silver Star now?”

“I think I can make that happen before I’m magically no longer a general in an hour,” David replied with a smile.

“Field promotion to corporal?”

“Done.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Now, about our refit,” David began. “What’s the overall status of the ship?”

“Pretty severe damage to our fore superstructure, to the point we can’t recover fighters from the A ramp. B ramp sustained minor damage, but it’ll take a couple of weeks to clear out the mess and repair everything. Armor plating took a real beating too.”

“The League threw everything it had at us, and then some,” David observed. “Six weeks is realistic, in your opinion?”

“Yes, sir,” Hanson replied, loosening up just a smidgen. “I always pad it, just a bit.”

David couldn’t help but smirk in return. “Yeah, I figured engineers always padded the damage estimates a bit to look good. How’d the reactor upgrade we got work during this engagement?”

“Well, we’re still in one piece,” Hanson deadpanned. “All in all, the ship’s systems are working well. I do have concerns around the safety systems of the anti-matter reactor, though.”

“Oh?”

“Based on the behavior experienced, I believe we need to install a fourth-tier redundant safety control system around the cooling and matter/anti-matter mixer.”

“Did you talk to Doctor Hayworth about it?”

“Yes, sir… he’s not in agreement.”

“If you think it’s the right call, do it anyway,” David responded. “I trust your judgment, Major.”

“Thank you, sir,” Hanson said. “Our next package of upgrades is ambitious. Mine dispensers in the aft of the ship, upgraded VRLS with a faster reloading mechanism and…” He paused for effect. “…Saurian tech for our magnetic cannons.”

David’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh?”

“Their double-loading system. We’ll be able to fire EMP rounds in combination with either high-explosive or armor-piercing shells.”

“They gave us that?” David asked, incredulous.

“I understand we’ve given them some of our advanced reactor technology in return.”

“I’m sure they want our anti-matter reactor,” David mused. “Can’t see us parting with it any time soon.”

“Maybe not, but our latest generation fusion reactors are far better than theirs. Even that technology would be a significant upgrade for them.”

David nodded his understanding. “Always a technology race.”

Hanson bit his lip. “There is something of a perverse downside with this ship’s technology.”

“How so?” David asked, curious as to the answer.

“Well… the Lion has been in constant combat for the last three months. We’ve lost less than five percent of our crew KIA, less than ten percent WIA. While that’s still many, many people, it's nowhere as near the loss of late on other capital ships.”

“Completely accurate statement, Major. One I tend to be relieved by.”

“I’ve noticed lately that each loss seems much worse because I’ve become used to seeing the same faces on this ship.”

That’s an interesting take on it, David thought. “Because there’s fewer losses?”

“Yes… the ones we have are more impactful. They’re not lost in the crowd, so to speak.”

“I’d be more worried if we were numb to seeing our friends and shipmates die,” David replied.

“I found it easier not to make attachments.”

“Wrong way of thinking about it, Hanson. If you go through life without friends, you lose out on great relationships. Despite the pain of losing them, it’s better to care. Trust me on this.”

“I’m sure you’re right, sir. I just don’t like it.”

“I don’t either. War is hell. I’m reminded of it daily, yet when we achieve a victory and destroy the enemy, I get this weird mix of overwhelming joy, mixed with pride, coupled with sadness and knowing that I shouldn’t be cheering the deaths of thousands of other people. Yet I do it anyway. I am certain that God, looking down on us, frowns when we take delight in the death of our enemy because as screwed up as the League is, they’re still his creations.”

“Maybe it’ll be over soon?” Hanson asked.

“Maybe. Do me a favor… have Private Hunter at the morning flag ceremony, day after next.”

“Yes, sir,” Hanson replied, looking somewhat bewildered. “May I ask why, sir?”

“You’ll see. Try to make it yourself too.”

“Of course, sir.”

“Anything else, Major?”

“No, sir. I’ll leave you to it,” Hanson replied as he stood up from the chair.

“Major,” David said, causing Hanson to stop his pivot away from the desk. “You did a fine job in this last series of engagements. Without your efforts, and those of your engineering team, we wouldn’t be here.”

“Thank you, sir. Got a great team,” Hanson said with a smile.

“So do I. That’s my secret.”

Hanson laughed. “Safe with me, sir.”

“Very well. Dismissed, Major.”

* * *

Kenneth had kept himself as busy as possible since the fleet had arrived back at Canaan, and aside from having to fill out an after-action report, he’d as much as possible tried not to think about the events of Unity Station. Unsure what his behavior meant, and still stung by Calvin’s words, he’d decided to just put it behind him and move on. He was finishing up a typical day, with a flurry of email and final reports, when the door chime sounded on his little office deep within the bowels of the Lion.

“Come in!” Kenneth yelled.

The hatch opened, and in walked David.

Kenneth stood abruptly. “Welcome, sir.”

David smiled. “Please, please, no need to stand on my account.”

“General, we always stand for flag officers,” Kenneth quickly responded.

David pointed at his rank insignia, which was back to its regular golden bird, the insignia for a colonel. “I don’t see any stars here. Please, take a seat.”

Once Kenneth sat down, David joined him and slid into one of the chairs in front of the desk. “I don’t get down here very often, Kenneth, but I wanted to thank you for your actions over the last week. Your entire team has performed incredibly. Without their help, I don’t think we’d have been successful. I’ll see to it that the proper recognition is given to all of them.”

Kenneth inclined his head; making sure that his people were taken care of was one of the basic tenets of his job. They were more than merely employees; they were his family. “Thank you, sir. A lot of heroic acts. Sometimes I think perhaps we have too many heroes. Certainly too many posthumous ones.”

David pulled a small case out of his pocket, set it down on Kenneth’s desk, and turned it around as he opened it. Inside was a CDF Superior Civilian Service Award; Kenneth recognized it immediately.

“Which one of my team earned that, sir?” Kenneth asked.

David shook his head. “This one is for you… for saving Corporal Lewis.”

Kenneth’s face turned ashen. “Sir, I don’t deserve that medal.”

“You may not think you do, but the award is specifically for acts of extraordinary heroism. I can’t think of a better definition than carrying a gravely wounded soldier who wasn’t expected to survive back to safety in a combat zone. Your actions were directly responsible for Corporal Lewis’s survival. Without you, he’d be dead, and I’d be writing one more letter to a family who lost their son.”

“No, sir, I mean… well, it was said at the time my actions were those of a coward.”

David’s eyebrows shot up. “Who said that?”

“Colonel Demood, sir.”

David sighed. “Kenneth, Colonel Demood is dealing with some issues right now. Don’t take what he said to heart.”

Kenneth shook his head, looking down at the floor. “The truth is, sir, I think he may be right. I’m not even sure why I thought it would be a good idea to suit up and try to play soldier. I’ve never fired a shot in anger in my life before last week. I froze up repeatedly; hell, I couldn’t unjam my gun until the first firefight stopped.”

David, much to Kenneth’s surprise, laughed out loud. “My first combat, I forgot to chamber a round. Nearly got killed before I could even shoot at the enemy. We all make those mistakes. Doesn’t make you a coward.”

“I’m afraid I may have seized on saving Corporal Lewis simply so I wouldn’t have to fight,” Kenneth said, looking up. “I don’t know for sure. It was all a jumble, and I think I was doing it for the right reasons, but I’m not sure.”

David looked at Kenneth intently. “It’s a maxim of Judaism that if you save one life, you save the entire universe. Only you and God know what’s in your heart, but I’m pretty sure you did it because it was the right thing to do,” he said, pausing for a moment. “Here’s something else to consider. Fear is one of our biggest motivators. We’ve all got fear. Period. Some of us are far better at controlling it than others. But the same fear that makes you quake in your boots at the sight of a League fleet is the same fear that can drive you to do things you never thought possible. It’s all in how you control it, and how you manage it. You saved someone’s son. That’s a good day.”

“I won’t lie… I felt fear like I’ve never felt it before, looking at those League soldiers with rifles trying to shoot us. I suppose its illogical, considering that at any point in time, this ship could be destroyed in combat, but it’s not the same.”

“No, it’s not. As someone who has seen combat from many different lenses, I can tell you with certainty there’s nothing quite like facing down another person who wants to kill you and is trying with everything they have to accomplish the goal.”

“Sir,” Kenneth began, losing his train of thought for a moment. “How do you do this, day in, day out? Having to make those decisions even for a few hours was overwhelming.”

“Honestly? You learn to compartmentalize your feelings. It doesn’t always work, but most of the time, it does. The danger is you push them aside too long, and then they overwhelm you. Or something worse happens, you grow numb to it all, and the horror we see no longer affects us.”

Kenneth folded his hands in front of him, not entirely sure what to say next. “I can’t imagine.”

David thankfully changed the subject. “Have you heard what we’re doing next?”

Kenneth shook his head. “Yes, sir. Six-week refit schedule to repair all battle damage, followed by another upgrade program. I got the performance work statement package from Major Hanson a couple of hours ago. We’re all over it, sir.”

“Excellent,” David replied. “The home defense fleet and our reserves are on station at Unity now to discourage any League ideas about retaking the station. Once we complete our refit and the rest of what’s being called now the ‘Great White Fleet’ is prepared… the assault on the League of Sol begins. It will take some time to put that fleet together, so in the meanwhile, the Lion will be cleaning up issues in local space and flying the flag.”

“When we finally get on the road to Earth, it’s the beginning of the end for the League,” Kenneth commented.

“Perhaps. But the League has thousands of ships, tens of millions of soldiers. It won’t be easy.”

“Nothing worth doing is ever easy. We’ll give you everything we’ve got, sir.”

David smiled and patted the case one more time as he stood. “You earned this medal, Kenneth. Display it with pride, put it away, do whatever you wish with it. But know saving a life is worth it, even when one life doesn’t seem significant sometimes in the grand scheme of things. It’s at those points we must remember every life counts. You did, and I thank you.”

Kenneth stood up and extended his arm. David grasped it, and they shook warmly. “I’ll do my best to make peace with it, sir.”

“You do that, Mr. Lowe. Carry on.”

Kenneth watched as David left, then looked down at the small case and lifted it in his hands. I know it was a small act but saving that young man’s life was the only thing I could do. To hear someone know they’re about to die and cry out to just be held by their mother one last time… I don’t think I could do it day in and day out. Thank God it’s not my job… my job is to make the best tools I can and give them to the men and women who make a difference.

Kenneth opened one of the drawers in his desk and took out a lockbox that had a biometric lock; scanning his fingerprint, the lockbox opened. Inside was a collection of similar small cases and challenge coins from his years of service. He snapped the case Colonel Cohen had given him shut and added it to the contents. After he had closed and reengaged the lock, he placed the box back in his desk, and smiling to himself, walked out of his office.

41

After the Lion of Judah had returned to Canaan, the “deck” crew had been given liberty, while those assigned to engineering were helping throughout all phases of the upgrade, as were the senior officers. The Marines had all disembarked and were enjoying a few weeks of well-earned leave, as was Calvin. He’d spent some time with his wife, but mindful of the promise he made both to David and Doctor Tural, a visit with the CDF counselor David had recommended was made.

Calvin felt very apprehensive as he stood in front of the professional office building; an emotion he wasn’t used to as a combat Marine who charged into danger like it was nothing more than a day at the office. The feeling in the pit of his stomach grew as he walked in and found the suite he was supposed to visit, a nameplate next to the door reading “Dr. Amy Ellison, Counselor.”

He pressed the buzzer, and the door slid open while Amy called out, “Come in, Colonel!”

Taking in the room, Calvin immediately noticed the typical couch, situated in front of a desk. There were also a few comfortable-looking chairs and a small table. A small box of tissues made his nose turn up. She must get a lot of wimps that cry in here.

Amy stood and walked from behind the desk to greet him. “Thank you for coming, Colonel. I’m Doctor Ellison.”

Calvin extended his arm. “Lieutenant Colonel Calvin Demood, Terran Coalition Marine Corps.”

Amy took the outstretched arm and shook it, her grip nothing like his. “May I call you Calvin?” At his nod, she continued, “Please, have a seat and make yourself comfortable.”

Calvin sat ramrod straight in the chair. “I’ve done a lot of these before, but… never with an eye to get something out of it.”

“You mean you’ve never been honest?”

“Direct and to the point. I like that, Doctor,” Calvin said as a smile formed on his face. “Truth is, I never thought much of shrinks. I’ve just compartmentalized my experiences and tried to move on.”

“How’s that working for you?” Amy asked.

“I’m assuming you’ve seen the report?”

“Yes, it was shared with me after you agreed to become a patient.”

“I’m very conflicted about it, Doctor.”

“Call me Amy, please. This isn’t a formal setting, and I want you to be as comfortable as possible.”

“Part of me feels shame that I threatened and might have carried out killing twenty thousand people. The other side of me feels like it was just another day, and they all had on the League’s uniform, so who cares.”

“I think rather than examine what’s just happened, we should go far into the past, Calvin. Let me start with this: you’ve been a Marine for twenty-two and a half years, correct?”

Calvin nodded. “Twenty-two years, seven months, eight days… not like I’m counting or anything.”

Amy laughed. “I understand you enlisted, attended basic training, and were immediately posted to a combat unit?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“What was your first time in combat like?”

“It was pandemonium. I was wet behind the ears, we were assaulting a League force and, in all honesty, I was happy I didn’t freeze up and get killed. Too many Marines died that day.”

“Did you take a life?” Amy asked.

“I don’t know, Doctor. I know I shot at a lot of Leaguers… but who knows. Most of the time in a pitched battle like that, you don’t know exactly who you killed,” Calvin responded soberly.

“I fail to believe you don’t recall the first time you killed another human being, Calvin. If you can’t be honest with me…”

“The first time I remember looking into someone’s eyes and killing them was a different engagement, Doctor. I came upon a League interrogator in a room they used to question suspected members of the resistance,” Calvin said, shutting his eyes for a moment. “I can still remember walking into the room, seeing a young girl handcuffed to the table, and I just knew the sorry piece of human trash had done something horrible to her. He didn’t even the balls to resist us, just threw down his weapon and put his hands in the air.”

Amy sat at the edge of her seat and stared at Calvin with a piercing expression. “What happened then?”,

“I’ve told myself for twenty-two years he goaded me, boasted of his accomplishments and took pride in what he’d done. That made what I did seem okay,” Calvin replied, glancing up at her. “To answer your question, Doctor, I drew my sidearm, told him he’d get to see if there was a God, and blew his brains out on the floor.”

“But there’s something else there, right?”

Calvin closed his eyes, and was silent, wrestling with the memory buried deep inside. A single tear rolled down his cheek as he opened them again and looked at her directly in the eyes. “The truth is, he wasn’t boasting; he was cowering on the floor and begging for his life. I shot an unarmed man.”

Amy pursed her lips together. “I can’t imagine what you’ve had to live with since then, Calvin. I’m not here to judge you, I’m not here to condemn you. I think you’ve done a good job of that yourself. Do you believe what you did was wrong?”

Calvin nodded his head a couple of times. “I can’t escape it, Doctor. I’ve tried to make myself believe I take out the trash. That killing those monsters is no different than putting down a rabid animal. I think somewhere along the way, I turned into the monster I wanted to wipe off the face of the galaxy. The realization of it is why I almost killed myself in the medical bay on the Lion.”

“It doesn’t make you a bad person, Calvin. Nor are you alone. I can’t tell you how many soldiers have sat in that chair and told me about how they can’t go on, and say they have nothing to live for. I’ve treated many who had similar experiences. If you work with me, I believe we’ll be able to make you better. It’s not a short road, nor is it an easy road. But even just admitting what you just did… it’s a huge step.”

“Having Colonel Cohen tell me to my face I’m as bad as a Leaguer will kind of get your attention, Doctor,” Calvin said with a rueful smile. “In that moment, the rage I felt... I wanted to kill him for saying it. Then I realized he was right, and it was more than I could take.” He paused in mid-sentence. “Once this all hits my service record, I’ll be forced to retire, or worse.”

“Well, I’m no longer in the CDF, Calvin,” Amy began. “I plan to keep paper records of our visits together, and if you get to the point where I’m satisfied with your progress, I’ll destroy them.”

Calvin stared at her as if she’d grown a second head. “Come again?”

“When Colonel Cohen contacted me about helping you, those were his terms. He cares very deeply about you, and he knows what you’re going through. One of these days, ask him about his first combat.”

“I didn’t realize he had set this up, so to speak,” Calvin replied, his tone of voice betraying his shock.

“It was after you went to talk to Doctor Tural.”

“I see,” Calvin replied, not entirely sold on the idea. “I’m pretty sure what I did was against the Uniform Code of Military Justice.”

“Colonel Cohen said something about when we’re at war, the law is silent,” Amy said.

“Ah yes, him and his love for history. That’s an old Latin phrase. Inter arma enim silent leges. In times of war, the law falls silent,” Calvin said, remembering David’s commentary on the matter.

“How are you feeling, Calvin?”

“I’ve been better. I feel ashamed. I should’ve never let this get as far as it did,” Calvin responded, shaking his head.

“I see in your service record you’re a non-denominational Christian,” Amy began in her bright and cheery tone of voice, while gesturing toward a pillow on her couch that announced “Prayer is the answer!” “Would you be interested in praying with me to end our session today?”

“I don’t think God, if he’s even up there, wants to hear from me,” Calvin said sadly.

“I think it’s at times such as these, when we’re at our lowest, He wants to hear from us most of all.”

Calvin looked deep into her eyes. “I don’t have it in me right now, Doctor. Maybe you have enough for both of us?”

Amy walked over to Calvin, sat down next to him on the couch, and took his hand in hers. “Lord, we ask You today to help heal this wounded soldier. Calvin has endured so much; he has done unspeakable things in the service of his country and in the course of this war which has consumed our land. Heal him, help him to see the light, and find his way home. In Jesus’ name we pray, amen.”

“Amen,” Calvin uttered as she finished. “Thank you, Doctor.”

“I want you back here next week. You pick the day and time.”

“Same day, same time works for me. I’m on leave for a few weeks while they repair our ride,” Calvin replied with just a little bit of his normal cocky Marine tone.

“Good. I’ll see you then.”

“Thank you, Doc,” Calvin began to say before stopping himself. “Amy.”

Amy stood and smiled broadly at him. “Thank you for coming to see me and taking the first, difficult step.”

“Like any good Marine, I’ll stay the course.”

“I’ll hold you to it.”

Taking his leave, Calvin walked out of the office and back out of the nondescript office building, into the sunshine of a perfect day on Canaan. Feeling a small amount of the load he carried lifted, he walked back to his helicar. Maybe there’s still hope for me yet, he thought to himself. I need to come clean to Jessica about this and let her know I’m trying to get some help. I’m sure she knows something has been wrong, but maybe I can put her mind at ease. Considering that course of action, he climbed into the helicar and punched up the autopilot for home.

* * *

Striding into the enormous cargo bay on the Lion of Judah, David felt very small. He always did, either on the flight decks or the cargo bays on the ship as they were just so huge. Forty-foot clearance between the deck plates and the overhead, with cranes and equipment for moving gear everywhere made a human look tiny by comparison. At ten minutes before 0800 CMT, even with most of the crew at liberty on Canaan, there were still several hundred soldiers lined up for morning colors. He tugged on his cover as he crossed over the threshold, as the area was considered “outside.”

“Attention! Colonel on deck!” Tinetariro barked as soon as she saw him enter.

The master chief must have binocular implants or something. David wore an amused smile on his face. “As you were!” he called out in reply; the soldiers relaxed back into uneven lines.

“Thank you for doing this one in person this morning, Master Chief,” David said once he got to the front of the space where Tinetariro stood.

“Wouldn’t miss one of my soldiers getting an award for all the ale in Sauria, sir,” Tinetariro answered. “Private Hunter is in the first row, as requested.”

“Outstanding,” David said. “I wish the band was still around. Even though it’s been a few months, it was nice while it lasted.”

“Maybe we’ll get it back, along with some bunting for all these port calls the scuttlebutt says we’ll be engaging in, sir,” Tinetariro quipped in her rich, British-accented English.

“Do you have a tap on the commlink, Master Chief?” David asked, thoroughly amused.

“No, sir, but I’m sure one of the chiefs could rig that up if you’d like,” Tinetariro responded with a dazzling smile.

There’s still something about the way she smiles that would terrify me to my bones if I served under her.

Just before 0800, Tinetariro stood to attention and trilled her bosun’s pipe. “Attention!” she shouted, and her voice reverberated across the bay. All present came to smart attention in neat rows. As the anthem of the Terran Coalition began to play, two soldiers quickly tugged the flag up the portable pole that was set up every morning for the ceremony.

David, along with everyone else, brought their hands up to their brows and saluted the colors as the anthem played; as its final bars echoed, they all snapped their hands down.

Tinetariro stepped forward once more to speak. “Colonel Cohen requests the ship’s company remain for the presentation of an award to Private Doris Hunter. Private Hunter, step forward.”

Doris stepped out of her formation, her prosthetic legs slowing her considerably. David could tell, having seen many such injuries over the years, that she hadn’t adapted yet to the linkage between her mind and the robotic limbs. The technology was one of the few areas that Terran Coalition science had advanced to create coupling between man and machine. All respectfully stood as she made her way to where David and Tinetariro stood.

“Private Hunter, we’d typically do this with your family present, but I understand they’re on a frontier world. I hope you don’t mind our little ceremony today,” David said with a smile.

“No, sir,” Doris replied, beaming from ear to ear.

A soldier behind David handed him a small case, along with a leather-bound certificate folder. David snapped the small case open, revealing a small silver medal in the shape of a star. “Private Hunter, for your actions during the first engagement of the battle of Unity Station, I hereby award you the Coalition Defense Force Silver Star for valor and courage.”

David took a step forward and handed Doris the case, which she took and held. “Thank you, sir.”

“I will now read the citation,” David began, opening the folder and reading from the official document. “For heroic conduct during the battle of Unity station. When numerous shipboard engineering systems failed, Private Hunter manned her post despite extreme danger to herself. She ensured the reactor system onboard the CSV Lion of Judah did not fail during combat. Her gallant efforts not only saved the lives of many crewmembers in the engineering spaces directly around her, but the entire ship. Private Hunter’s exceptional professionalism under duress, personal initiative during a crisis and steadfast devotion to her duty reflect great credit upon herself and were in keeping with the highest traditions of the Coalition Defense Force.”

After a pause for applause from those standing behind her, David continued, “Bravo Zulu, Private Hunter!” He reached his hand forward and shook hers warmly. “One more thing, Private,” he said while reaching into his right pocket and pulling out the stripes of a corporal. “You are hereby granted a battlefield promotion to Corporal. Please raise your right hand.”

Doris dutifully raised her right hand and recited the oath of allegiance. “I, Doris Hunter, do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the Terran Coalition against all enemies, foreign and domestic. That I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same, and that I will obey the orders of the President of the Terran Coalition and of the officers appointed over me. So help me God.”

“Congratulations, Corporal,” David said, a broad smile on his face.

“Company, dismissed!” Tinetariro announced; the cargo bay full of people started to melt away as they broke ranks and went back to their duties.

Doris stuck around and approached David as he went to leave. “Colonel, if I may, sir?”

“Of course, Corporal. What can I do for you?”

“I wanted to thank you, sir. I was doing my job. I don’t deserve all this.”

“That’s not what I heard from Major Hanson,” David replied. “He believes your actions saved the reactor from overload.”

“That was my job, sir,” Doris said, still grinning from ear to ear.

“The last few days, heroic actions have been prevalent. We wanted to make sure you got the recognition you deserved,” David said. “Give any thought to what’s next? You’ll be eligible for medical discharge once your cloned limbs are integrated and fully functional.”

Doris’ face twisted into a grimace. “I’m not getting out, sir. I plan to reenlist for another term. Maybe aim for senior NCO or warrant officer.”

“What about officer? Good engineers are in short supply.”

“No degree, sir.”

“Lieutenant Goldberg doesn’t have one,” David said. “She’s an LDO.”

“LDO, sir?”

“Limited duty officer. She can’t command a capital ship, but aside from that, there are no restrictions on her ability to contribute. Look into it. Or take advantage of those night classes.”

“Yes, sir, I’ll look into it. Thank you for the advice.”

“Any time, Corporal. Godspeed,” David replied before walking away back to his duties. Which for the rest of the day consist of mountains of paperwork. Lovely.

42

Admiral Seville adjusted the collar of his dress uniform, which was stiff and felt like it was close to choking him. Pausing to check his vast array of medals before walking out of the bathroom a few steps away from the chairman’s office on Earth, he was finally home. Ah yes, home, he reflected. I feel much more alive out among the stars. Here, I’m constantly reminded of the stuffy old men that run the League and their failures. His meeting today was billed as a “briefing,” Seville thought bitterly as he pushed the door open to the ornate hallway, his dress shoes clicking on the marble floor. In reality, I’ll be called to account. Why did I fail yet again, they’ll ask. Idiots… if they’d just sent me the ships I’d requested, when I’d asked for them, we’d be toasting our victory over the Terran Coalition and drawing up plans for the reeducation of Canaan’s population.

The mahogany doors to his left swung open, and Seville walked through them into a small conference room where the most powerful men and women in the League of Sol sat assembled. Led by Chairman Pallis, they made up the Social and Public Safety Committee, which was charged with the expansion and leadership of the League. Colonel Strappi had already taken a seat, wisely choosing to sit in the chairs that lined the wall. Seville took his place at the conference table, enjoying the feel of the luxurious leather. Such comforts are welcome. A pity most citizens will never even see a nice chair, much less have one. People are such sheep. If they’d ever wake up and realize what we’ve done to them for the last four hundred years, they’d riot across the galaxy and put all our heads out on pikes. But they won’t because they’re sheep.

As the doors to Pallis’ office opened up, Seville quickly stood, along with the rest of the people in the room. The military officers all brought themselves smartly to attention. It wasn’t lost on him that Pallis allowed it to go on for several seconds.

“Take your seats, comrades,” Pallis finally said.

Seville sat back down, looking at the committee with what he hoped came across as a contrite facial expression.

“Admiral, thank you for taking the long journey to Earth so that we could talk to you in the flesh. I feel that sometimes the measure of a person is lost in digital transmission,” Pallis commented.

“I serve at the pleasure of the League, Mr. Chairman,” Seville responded neutrally.

“Yes… yes, you do. Let me start by being direct, Admiral. What happened out there? Where are our ships? Our crews? Our soldiers? Our station?”

“We were defeated, Chairman,” Seville began, his facial features tight with rage. “My fleet did not receive the reinforcements requested in the timeframe required. The Canaan Alliance has ships and fighters that are technologically superior to ours…”

“We gave you the best weapons our scientists have created in decades, Admiral. You had the drop on them, and you showed hesitation in the face of the enemy!” Pallis thundered, interrupting Seville in mid-sentence.

“Mr. Chairman, I must interject on behalf of Admiral Seville,” Strappi piped up from the back row. “I was present and observed his conduct. He’s never showed hesitation in the face of the enemy, and I might suggest that our mutual decision to send part of his fleet to chase down the Terran and Saurian ships may have given them the opening they needed to attack us.”

Seville whirled around, more startled than anything else at the sudden display of spine from his political officer.

Pallis too appeared shocked, with his mouth dropping open. “Is that so, Colonel Strappi?” he asked.

“Yes, comrade. I’ve never seen more tactical acumen from anyone in our fleet than from Admiral Seville. His dedication to the cause is laudable, and an inspiration to the entire League Navy.”

Several of the committee members exchanged glances. Hah, they’d never expect a political officer to defend the Navy so directly. Not that I did either.

“What are your recommendations then, Colonel Strappi? As our representative of the political commissars…”

A voice that Seville didn’t recognize spoke up from the far end of the table. It belonged to a man with striking features that included a scar across his face and a pronounced accent to his speech. “I must agree with Colonel Strappi, and Admiral Seville as well,” he began. “Allow me to introduce myself, comrades. Director Dmitry Borisov.”

Recognizing the name immediately, Seville was shocked the director of the League’s External Security Service was in the same room as the Social and Public Safety Committee. Known as a spymaster and one who lived in the shadows, there was little public linking of the two.

“What is needed now is a new paradigm for pressing our campaign against the Terran Coalition. For far too long, we’ve fought the Terrans’ war. It has bled us dry while playing our weaknesses against their strengths. If it wasn’t for the heroic efforts of our navy, and specifically of Admiral Seville, we would’ve suffered far worse losses.”

Alarm bells sounded inside of Seville’s head like the depressurization alarm on a starship. What’s he setting up, and why am I involved in it? “You’re most kind, Director. I live but to serve our great League,” Seville commented in his best attempt at a humble tone.

“For nearly thirty years,” Borisov continued, “we’ve used hard power in our war to defeat the Terran Coalition. Hard power accomplishes many goals, but sometimes we need to employ soft power as well. The Terran Coalition is a united group of people with many different goals, beliefs, and ideas. If we were to exploit those differences, drive wedges between them… we could destroy them from within.”

“And how do you propose we do that, Director Borisov? We’ve tried spreading the word of our socialism throughout Terran Coalition space, but they don’t seem to be overly interested until we’re able to get them into reeducation centers,” Pallis asked.

“Use their media against them. We already do so to a smaller extent, but there’s far more we can do. If you’ll authorize it, we can work alongside Admiral Seville as he employs hard power to defeat their soon-to-be deployed invasion fleets.”

Aha! There’s the hook. He wants to take over the war effort. Cunning fellow that’ll have to be managed carefully. Seville smiled thinly. “I believe working to weaken the Terrans from the inside has merit, Director Borisov. However, I must caution our last attempt to work together ended in disaster when the sleeper we tried to introduce to the peace conference failed.”

Borisov smiled in return, a look Seville suspected struck terror in the hearts of most underlings. “So it did, Admiral. I’m sure there’s enough blame to go around,” he said while staring directly at Strappi. “We must not dwell on the past in these matters. The Terran Coalition must be destroyed, and we need the resources, population, and technology they possess to continue to advance the cause of humanity across the stars. In two generations’ time, we’ll be ready to begin a campaign to conquer the local alien races. From there, who knows where the sands of time will take us.”

“I see merit in a new approach, Admiral,” Pallis said, glancing about the room. “Do you concur?”

“Of course, Mr. Chairman,” Seville intoned, the only response he could make without encouraging them to execute him, or worse, be labeled as an individualist.

“Then I want both of you to work together for the betterment of our struggle against the Terrans. I expect all parties involved to mimic the ways of our democratic socialist republic, without regard to personal ambition,” Pallis commented while making eye contact with both Seville and Borisov.

“I serve at the pleasure of the committee, Mr. Chairman,” Seville replied, striking his closed fist to his chest, the preferred League salute.

“I’d never have it any other way, Mr. Chairman. The External Security Service’s only goal is the safety of our citizens,” Borisov said with the same thin smile he’d previously used on Seville.

“Good. You may carry on with your duties,” Pallis said with finality.

* * *

“What do we have for dinner entrees today, chief?” Ruth asked the steward behind the serving line in the forward officers’ mess. She liked this particular mess because it was close to the bridge and easy to get to before and after standing watch.

“Well, Lieutenant, just about anything you want I can have made, but Salisbury steak with mashed potatoes is the plate of the night for dinner,” he replied.

“Is it real steak? Or some of that stuff made out of vegetables passed off as meat?”

The steward’s face took on a wounded look. “Ma’am, I wouldn’t feed those to my dog, much less officers in the CDF.”

“Point taken,” Ruth replied while laughing. “I’ll take that, with some bread and a salad.”

“Coming right up, Lieutenant. Take a number, and we’ll bring it out…as usual.”

Before Ruth could get out a response, the doors to the mess hall slid open and a group of enlisted soldiers pushing a cart full of beer and what looked like alcohol bottles busted into the room. She immediately recognized one of them as Master Chief Petty Officer Gordan MacDonald, the squad leader for Alpha team.

“Hey, cake eaters, we’re here for the good stuff! Bring out your booze!” MacDonald shouted, while other commandos yelled their agreement.

Ruth stared in amazement as the cart was pushed into the center of the room and the commandos took over a table. She looked back at the steward. “On second thought, I think I’ll take my food to go, chief.”

“Sure thing, Lieutenant,” he said, ducking behind the counter.

While Ruth was waiting for her food, Taylor walked in and approached the food line. “What in the heck is going on?” he asked her, his brow furrowed in a shocked expression.

“It would appear our mess has been commandeered by the space special warfare unit.”

“Hey, I heard someone say space special warfare!” shouted one of the commandos, a voice Ruth didn’t recognize. “If you ain’t spacewalking, you ain’t shit!”

“Hoorah!” another commando yelled while the rest downed shots.

Unable to conceal a smile, Ruth grinned as they carried on. “Well, they did take fifty percent losses,” she said quietly to Taylor. “Maybe this is how they cope?”

“No idea. I’m a comms geek, not a ground pounder… for a reason.”

“I wonder if this has anything to do with Colonel Cohen being off the ship tonight,” Ruth mused.

“No, pretty sure he’s got a date,” Taylor replied.

“Colonel Cohen… on a date? Check your RUMINT source. No way.”

Taylor shook his head and grinned at the same time. “Absolutely one hundred percent accurate. I overheard the air boss give the instruction for his shuttle to drop him off on Canaan at 1700.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Yeah, but I also connected him in to the receptionist for a restaurant on Canaan.”

“Okay, he could be taking his mother out,” Ruth replied, utterly convinced David wasn’t capable of dating anyone currently.

“The shuttle went to the pad nearest to Angela Dinman’s apartment complex.”

“You’re spying on the colonel?” Ruth asked, her jaw dropping open.

“Nah, an intel analyst pulled that out.”

Ruth just rolled her eyes. “Wait a minute… the colonel is going out with an agnostic reporter?”

“Yup,” Taylor said.

The steward passed a container with Ruth’s food across the counter. “Here you go, Lieutenant.”

“Getting yours to go?” Taylor asked.

“Yeah, not interested in the drinking fest,” Ruth said as the commandos pounded another round of shots, yelling in glee at the same time.

“I guess I’ll do the same. Hey, want to join me in the atrium to eat? I never like to eat alone in my quarters. Seems depressing, somehow.”

Ruth couldn’t believe her ears. What is this, the dating ship now? “Are you asking me out on a date, Lieutenant Taylor?” she said, a bit harsher than she intended.

“Um, no…” Taylor said, clearly flustered. “I thought two friends could break bread together. Sorry.”

Ruth immediately felt ashamed of her behavior as he turned to go. “I’m the one who should be sorry. I’d be happy to eat with you. I’ll find us a spot on the atrium, and you get some grub. Deal?”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

“Okay, I’ll get something and be right up.”

“See you in a few, Robert,” Ruth said with a smile as she walked out of the mess. Meanwhile, one of the commandos was throwing darts into a portable board they’d set up on another table, and were cheering on one of their members as he chugged a shot before each throw. Boys will be boys. She couldn’t help but to roll her eyes.

43

“For some reason, I expected this to be… different,” Angie said as she walked through the door that David held open for her, taking in the sight of the restaurant they had entered with white linen tablecloths, waitstaff in tuxedo shirts and bowties, and magnificent architecture.

David smirked and walked up to the host stand, which had a small sign on it that said, “Canaan Prime Steakhouse.” “Reservations for two, under Cohen,” David said to the hostess.

“Right this way, Colonel Cohen.”

David grimaced, not wanting to be recognized so readily in public. Forcing it down, he instead focused on Angie, and realized that while she was pretty, she had gone all out on dressing up. “You look beautiful this evening,” he commented to her with a grin.

“Third time you’ve said so,” Angie replied with a grin on her own. “If I’d known this was all it took, I would’ve been getting exclusives out of you for months.”

David rolled his eyes and sat down at the table the hostess had led them to after Angie had taken her seat first. “Thank you, ma’am,” he said to the hostess.

“My pleasure. Please enjoy your dinner.”

After she had left, David picked up from Angie’s earlier comment. “What did you expect to be different?”

“Well, when you think of a kosher restaurant… I mean, what comes to mind for me is a small hole in the wall serving cucumbers and coleslaw with big sandwiches,” Angie replied.

David laughed. “Kosher food is just as high end as any other type of food. It’s all in the way you prep it. That, and don’t try to order a cheeseburger.”

“You think I’d order a cheeseburger at a place that sells high-end steaks?”

David smirked. “Well no, but…”

“Gotcha,” Angie replied with an evil little grin. “You’re so easy to trip up with that Boy Scout routine of yours. I thought it was fake for the longest time.”

David’s eyebrow shot up, involuntarily. “You thought I was fake?”

“I’ve found most people are self-serving. I still haven’t found any evidence you are.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I thought you were just another airhead reporter looking to smear the CDF when you showed up.”

Angie snickered. “I guess we each found out the other wasn’t quite what we thought.”

“So true,” David replied. “I was told the bone-in ribeye here is amazing.”

“I might try it. I haven’t had a delicious steak in a while.”

“Steak isn’t served often on military ships. Most of the time on the Rabin, I was happy to get a hot meal.”

“That was the destroyer you commanded, right?”

David nodded at her. “Yes, for all of about seven months. I loved that ship.”

“But now you’ve got a much bigger ship,” Angie commented.

“Yes, but there’s something about the first ship. Walking through the airlock and hearing the computer announce, ‘Commanding Officer, Yitzchak Rabin arriving.’” David smiled. “I know my dad would’ve been proud to see me there.”

“You still miss him?”

“Every day.”

“My mom and dad live on one of the frontier planets. They rough it… eschew as much technology as possible. Heck, my father hunts the meat they eat most of the time,” Angie said.

“Sounds like an interesting upbringing,” David replied before being cut off by the waiter.

“Greetings! Thank you for joining us this evening. What can I start you two off with?”

“I’d like a glass of water, please,” Angie said.

“Same for me,” David finished.

“I’ll be right back with two waters, and some of our famous pickled cucumbers and coleslaw.”

Angie couldn’t help but smirk as the waiter left. “I guess all kosher restaurants serve cucumbers and coleslaw?”

“Pretty much,” David deadpanned. “So back to this frontier planet. No running water or power?”

Angie’s eye’s narrowed. “We had power and water, and a GALnet connection,” GALnet stood for Galaxy Net, a network that ran between all of the planets in the Terran Coalition. “It was just different. They didn’t have normal jobs like you, and I do today. My dad built houses, and my mother cleaned them. I loved my childhood, though.”

“Mine wasn’t quite like that. We lived in the heart of the Terran Coalition, on Canaan. After my dad died, Mom wouldn’t move back to New Israel. She stayed in the same house. Still there, in fact.”

“So a normal childhood, then?”

“Except for Dad never coming back from what was supposed to be his last mission,” David replied.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be insensitive.”

“No, it’s okay. I made peace with it a long time ago. My father did what he needed to do. Funny thing is, I always thought I needed to be a rabbi. Then I ended up being a pretty good soldier.”

“What happens after you’re done with the military?” Angie questioned.

“Well, I hope it’s in time to settle down, have children, and figure out how to use a plow,” David said with a broad smile.

Angie smirked. “Somehow, you as a farmer doesn’t quite work.”

“It’s a metaphor,” David answered, a bit flustered.

“You see life beyond all this, someday?”

David nodded. “Yes, don’t you? I couldn’t go on day in and day out with nothing to look forward to but more combat. Combat is a necessity of our situation, but not something I live for.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“What about you, what do you want in the future?”

“Oh, a decent guy, a few kids, some satisfaction out of my career. Win the lottery,” Angie deadpanned in reply.

David laughed. “That’s quite an impressive list of wants there. We can see about getting Doctor Hayworth to help you win the lottery… on a more serious note, I’ve come to believe satisfaction in our life, which extends to our career, comes out of what we’re focused on. Not saying I have the right focuses, mind you, but I think there’s more to life than whatever career we’re in.”

“Then why are you alone, if you don’t mind me asking?”

David was quiet for a moment. “Because I didn’t want to put another person through what my mother and I had to endure when Dad was killed.”

Angie looked down, then made eye contact with him. “I’m so sorry, David. I didn’t… wow, I’m making this a great date.”

David reached across the table and took her hand in his. “Nothing to be sorry for. It’s something I’ve lived with for many years, and well, in the last few months, I’ve come to realize I’ve been looking at it through the wrong lens. That’s why I fumbled through asking you out.” To David’s relief, she didn’t shrink away from his hand, instead grasping it in hers.

“I’m glad you did.”

“Does that mean I get a second date?”

“You still have plenty of time left to screw this one up, Colonel, sir,” Angie replied with a wry grin. “Don’t get ahead of yourself on the first one.”

Grinning back at Angie, David found himself thoroughly enjoying her company outside of the confines of the Lion of Judah and the war. Over the next couple of hours, they ate and spoke of many topics, exploring life and their mutual interests. All too quickly, the dinner was over and they were walking down the narrow street the restaurant was located on, headed toward Angie’s parked helicar.

“I must say, not quite what I’d expected all around, David,” Angie said to him as they rounded a corner.

“In a good way, I hope?”

“Very good.”

“How long will you be on Canaan?” David asked, hopeful she’d say “a while.”

“Well, my transfer to the political beat came through, so at least the next two years. There is the presidential election winding up after all.”

“The Lion will be here for another six weeks undergoing refits,” David mused.

“You need to get better about being direct with women,” Angie replied while rolling her eyes but grinning at the same time.

“I’m not exactly experienced in that department,” David said, feeling his cheeks begin to grow warm.

“The answer is yes, and next week would be fine.”

David chuckled. “Well, in that case, I’ll vidcall you and set something up.”

“You do that, Mr. Cohen, and don’t leave me hanging,” she said as she opened the door to her helicar by scanning her palm print on the door. “Take care of yourself.”

“Oh, I just have to oversee a refit. You’ll be doing more dangerous work than me for the foreseeable future,” David replied with a grin as he held the car door open for her. He watched as she climbed in.

“Goodnight,” Angie replied as she settled into the helicar.

“Take care,” David answered, not sure what else to say. Well, that’s not entirely true. What I want to do is lean in and kiss her, but it’s only the first date, and I’d better wait. Hah, she’s right. I have no idea what to do in a relationship. That’d be because I’ve never had one. The door to the helicar closed automatically, and it lifted off without barely a sound. He stood there for a few minutes and then walked back to his helicar, a big grin on his face. That was the most enjoyment outside of my job in I can’t remember when, and I didn’t screw it up! There may be hope for me yet.

44

This ground, so hallowed, is at the same time so peaceful. David walked through the sea of white marble crosses, Stars of David, crescents and stars, among other symbols and tombstones. A simple ritual, he carried with him a single red rose to place on Sheila’s grave. He’d been enough times the location of her plot was forever imprinted on his mind. Every time he set foot on Canaan, David tried to visit her; a small gesture but one that carried significant meaning to him.

David came to a halt in front of the tombstone that had been placed on her grave; a simple white cross, it read “Major Sheila Thompson, Coalition Defense Forces Killed in Action 27 July 2560.” Below that was a verse from the Bible. “No one can have greater love than to lay down one’s life for one’s friends—John 15:13.”

He smiled ruefully as he read the inscription; David was happy her parents had chosen it. It summed Sheila up to a T. He laid the rose on top of the tombstone and sat down in front of it. “Well, old friend,” he began, addressing the tombstone. “It’s been too long since I got the chance to visit you. I know you already know what’s been going on down here, but I find some comfort in just coming by and catching up with you.

“We managed to defeat Seville, yet again. But he got away… I’m tired of him getting away. I want him to pay. Your words reverberate in my mind when the hatred I feel for that man roars to the surface, but it’s so hard to push it back down. I don’t understand why God lets him live. I pray every morning that God will deliver us from this scourge.” A tear rolled down David’s cheek. “Oh, I miss you. I miss you every single day. This would be so much easier if you were sitting in the XO’s chair, offering your advice between those wickedly funny barbs.

“Calvin’s gone off the rails too. I worry about him. I covered as best as I could to General MacIntosh, but if he can’t get his head back on straight, I won’t be able to save him. The truth is, I wonder if my head’s on straight. Are any of us mentally well? Thirty years of this war… how any of us have our humanity left is beyond me.” He paused, searching for a different subject. “I finally asked Angie out.” David smiled a bit as he related that information. “And you’ll be happy to know, I didn’t mess up the first date too badly. I don’t know if it’ll work out, but when I think about her, I feel a little less lost. I think you’d like her, if you ever met her. She’s strong, determined, and intelligent. In ways, she reminds me of you. I can sense she’s wrestling inside of her soul with what to believe, and in a way, so am I. I’m no longer sure that God cares about us. Oh, my heart says he does, but my mind isn’t convinced. Why does all this keep happening? I don’t understand.”

David shook his head. “But don’t worry, I’m not giving up. I’ll fight the League to my last breath. The memory of our last conversation sustains me, though I often hope you’ll visit again.” He reached out and touched the tombstone with his hand. “I hope I get to see you again someday, and I pray all of this wasn’t in vain. I keep up the cheery image to everyone else, but with you, I can tell the truth. I’m troubled. I’m terrified we’re going to cut so many corners and break so many moral laws, we’ll end up as bad as the League.

“Colonel Sinclair said something to me last week that really made me think. He said he was a sin-eater when questioned about working outside of the law to accomplish our objectives. I’d never heard the term before, and I looked it up. It's defined as a person that can take on the sins of others. I wonder… is that we become as we kill more and more of our fellow humans? Where does it leave us? I wish I had the answer… but I don’t.”

David sighed and stood slowly. “I’d do just about anything for one more day with you, Sheila. But I want you to know that I’m marching on. One foot in front of the other. I’ll see you soon, one way or another.” He smiled, pursing his lips together. Slowly walking away from the grave, he wiped away the tears. It is worth it. I have to carry on, for the sake of everyone, and if for no other reason than to ensure that Sheila’s sacrifice wasn’t in vain.

* * *

Dmitry Borisov, director of the League’s External Security Service, walked down a corridor in the League Imperial Navy compound on Earth, specifically in Geneva, which was part of what had been called Switzerland hundreds of years ago. No Naval officer or enlisted sailor had any idea who he was. He was sure of this because none of them got out of his way. If they knew who I was, they’d know I could have them disappeared at the wave of my hand, along with their entire families and everyone they’ve ever known. He craved the power being the director of their intelligence arm brought him; holding the lives of hundreds of billions of people in his hand was the ultimate thrill.

Without bothering to knock or announce his presence, he entered Admiral Seville’s office, walking wordlessly by his administrative assistant and throwing open the door to his inner sanctum.

Seville glanced up from his desk, his eyes flashing. “Director,” he said as he stood.

“Admiral,” Borisov replied.

“I’ve been expecting you to drop by,” Seville said icily.

“Oh?”

“You’re here to tell me how to run the war, aren’t you?”

Borisov closed the door behind him quietly and walked over to a chair that was in front of the ornate wooden desk and sat down without asking. “You think in such small terms, Admiral.”

“I’d warn you to watch your tongue, but I suspect you don’t care what I think or say.”

“Quite frankly, no, I don’t. You think only of destroying the Terrans and someday taking over the League,” Borisov said, watching Seville’s poker face barely move. “I think about taking over the entire galaxy and displacing our… alien friends.”

“You’re reaching, Director. I serve the Social and Public Safety Committee.”

“The Social and Public Safety Committee is led by a group of old fools,” Borisov replied dismissively. “I’ve nothing but contempt for them. I’ve also little regard for you, except you do seem to have a tactical and strategic mind. Your failing is you’re caught up on defeating these pissant little capitalists we’ve been trying to occupy for so long.”

“The Terran Coalition is the biggest enemy we have,” Seville began before Borisov cut him off.

This idiot can’t see the big picture. Perhaps I can enlighten him. “Admiral, the Terran Coalition, even with their allies, cannot hope to invade our space.”

“If their ideas spread to our outer planets, we could face rebellions. Which would cause us to crumble from within. The League works when everyone has a place, and everyone is in their place.”

“The Terrans are decadent. They try to say everyone can achieve greatness. They call it the human dream, this fantasy that no matter where you’re born, you can get whatever you want out of life if you work for it. Admiral, if you want to win, you’ll work with me.”

“The intelligence community has little to offer,” Seville replied. “The Navy pays for our socialism in blood while the spymasters skulk about in the darkness.”

“You’re fighting a foe that’s a hot air balloon. Knock a hole in the balloon, and it falls to the ground. We must fight them from within. If we pool our resources and abilities, we can use my intelligence network to cause the Terran Coalition to implode from the inside.”

“I find this difficult to believe, Director.”

Borisov smiled thinly. “Everything is interconnected. These primitive religions they have. They weren’t always so friendly and accepting of one another. Old tensions still exist; all we must do is exploit them. Turn them against each other.”

“And you know how to do that?”

“I do.”

“Then what do you need me for?”

“I am but a master of the shadows, as you put it, Admiral. You, on the other hand, have larger ambitions. Let us show the Social and Public Safety Committee the error of its ways, and someday you will attain the position of leadership that you so covet,” Borisov said.

“How would you propose we work together?”

Aha. There we go, the pragmatic side of Seville that wants to rule the League. Eminently exploitable. “For now, encourage our respective staffs to share information, and allow me to develop a finely tuned fifth column campaign inside of the Terran Coalition.”

“You’ll treat me and my officers with the proper respect we are owed, Director,” Seville stated.

Because small men like this must feel like others worship them. “Of course, Admiral.”

“Then I suggest we try to work together,” Seville replied cautiously.

“I think it would best for us, and the League,” Borisov said as he stood. “I’ll have my adjutant reach out to yours and began the process of us… cooperating.”

“Good. We should also meet in person from time to time.”

“I would hope so. I do love an in-person discussion, as opposed to the cold and distant communication afforded by our technological devices. Good day, Admiral.”

* * *

After transiting back up to the Lion, as he fully intended to remain onboard during the refit and make sure the repairs were up to his exacting specifications, David found his way to the shul for evening prayers. Donning his yarmulke and tallit gadol, he entered and sat in one of the back pews. There was no one else present; he assumed most of the observant Jews were planet-side, visiting loved ones back on Canaan. Rocking back and forth quietly, he was about to begin reciting the evening prayer when he heard a throat clearing.

“Good evening, Colonel,” Kravitz said, taking a seat next to David in the pew. He too had his prayer shawl and yarmulke on, as would be expected of an Orthodox rabbi.

“Rabbi,” David replied. “Good to see you, as always.”

“How are you doing?”

David shrugged. “It’s been something of a blur, the last few days. The incredible pain of our loss, then the triumph of victory. Throughout it all, the human cost of the battle won’t leave my mind. I can’t shake the questions that plagued me about where God is, and why He lets this carnage continue.”

The old rabbi put his arm around David’s shoulders. “You must trust in Adonai, David. He alone can see us through the trials that will come before the dawn. We all have free will; evil has a free will too. Remember this. God can’t change the rules of the game now.”

“Well, He ought to,” David replied. “I remember being tortured by a League interrogator. Nothing that man could have said or done would have shaken my faith. But now? Seeing Calvin implode, watching all those men and women die under my command… my faith is low.”

“We don’t go through life alone,” Kravitz observed. “God remains with us.”

David glanced over at Kravitz and smiled. “Yeah. That reminds me, I need to thank Private Waters for giving me that word.”

“I’m sure as the commander of this ship, you’ll be able to do so,” Kravitz remarked dryly.

“We live in hope,” David said, equally dryly. “I want someday for it all to end, Rabbi. I want to one day wake up and not have to think of the most efficient ways of killing my fellow humans. That’s what victory looks like for me. For the life of me, I can’t figure out why the League won’t simply leave us alone.”

“Jews have been asking the same question for a very long time, haven’t we?”

David nodded sadly, thinking through the history of the holocaust back on Earth, to the League, and every struggle for rights and equal treatment throughout the ages. “I suppose we have. Which makes the Terran Coalition worth the cost to defend her,” David said, a fire returning to his eyes. “In this place, in this nation, all of us are free. Maybe it’s worth the blood and tears.”

“I think it is,” Kravitz said. “God never said our way would be easy, nor the land flowing with milk and honey would be simple. Personally, I enjoy a challenge,” the old rabbi said, grinning. “Shall we pray?”

David nodded, and the two men bowed their heads.

* * *

The next morning, as he walked briskly through the passageways of the Lion, David knew he was about to be late for a meeting with the master chief; for some reason, despite vastly outranking her, the thought of doing so made him shiver. He strode through the open hatch to his office, precisely three minutes after the top of the hour, to find Tinetariro waiting for him, standing in front of his desk. As he entered, she brought herself to attention.

“At ease, Master Chief,” David began, closing the distance quickly to his desk and sliding behind it. “I apologize; the engineering walk-through took a few extra minutes.”

Tinetariro smiled. “Of course, sir. I wasn’t here long.”

“Please, have a seat,” David said, gesturing to the open chair directly in front of his desk.

“I’ve prepared a list of replacement crewmembers and their associated MOSes, sir,” Tinetariro began with, referring to military occupational specialties; ensuring that they had the right mix of soldiers to accomplish the mission. “You’ll find it in your email box with digital sign-offs.”

David nodded. “Thank you, Master Chief. Please send me an updated list of all casualties as well.”

“It’s the next message from me, sir. I included some personal information on each, as you’ve requested in the past.”

“I appreciate it. Writing those letters is the least I can do to honor their sacrifices.”

“We lost a lot of good people in the last week,” Tinetariro commented.

“That we did, and losses on the Lion were exceptionally light compared to other ships, especially the ships that were destroyed. We got lucky and rescued a few half-dead soldiers from the destroyed hulks, but a few of those ships had one hundred percent crew loss rates.”

“I can’t think of a worse way to go. Sitting inside of a half-destroyed starship, waiting to die as the air slowly suffocates you to death,” Tinetariro said while shaking her head.

“I’m with you there. I’d rather it be quick,” David replied. “When the day finally comes,” he continued, staring at Tinetariro for a moment before changing the subject. “On to something a little brighter. How’s the crew’s overall morale?”

“All things considered, exceptional,” Tinetariro answered in her posh British-accented English. “It was touch and go for a couple of days, but taking the station and sending Admiral Seville on his way back to Earth buoyed everyone’s spirits. I think we all recognize the road ahead is going to be difficult… but it’s better to be fighting the League on its turf for once, rather than constantly defending our homes.”

“I can’t fault that line of thinking one bit, Master Chief. Heck, it mirrors my own.”

“If I may, sir, I understand you turned down a promotion to brigadier general,” Tinetariro began before David started to laugh.

“Master Chief, I swear, the RUMINT on this ship is exceptional. Yes, I did. I’ve got no interest in flying a desk… besides, serving with the crew of the Lion of Judah is where I need to be. It’s my home, and all of you are like family. There’s no stepping out on that. I’ll be here until we’re done, or they won’t let me command her anymore.”

Tinetariro broke into a genuine grin. “You have no idea how good it is to hear that, sir. I’d hate to have to break in another senior officer. You’re a stubborn lot.”

David snickered. “I’ll take that as a compliment, Master Chief.”

“Anything else, sir?”

“No, I think we’re good for today…oh, there is one item I wanted to ask you about. Could you send Private Jason Waters down here later this afternoon? I’d like to talk to him about a personal matter.”

Tinetariro’s face clouded over with a grimace. “I’m sorry, sir, but Private Waters was killed in action.”

David’s eyes fell as he frowned. “I see. Do you know how? I wanted to thank him for something he told me.”

“I’m not sure, sir. The truth is, I’m not sure when he was killed. The doctor’s notes are incomplete, and we’re not sure if he died in the first battle or the second. I apologize greatly. I know that’s outside of normal procedures.”

David’s eyes snapped up, and a puzzled look swept over his face. “I spoke to him between the battles, the night of the funeral services.”

“Are you sure? That would let us verify that he participated in the second battle as well.”

“I… I’m pretty sure,” David replied. Am I losing it?

“If you don’t mind me asking, sir, what did he discuss with you?”

“He reminded me a good man isn’t alone, even when everything seems lost,” David said, a rueful smile gracing his lips. “I was at rock bottom. It was something I needed to hear, and I wanted to thank him.”

“Well, we’ll all get our chance to say those things we wanted to say but couldn’t one of these days,” Tinetariro responded, immediately causing David to think of the afterlife, or heaven, as both Christians and Jews thought of it.

“I hope so, Master Chief. Got a lot of things that were left unsaid to a lot of people I’d like the chance to get in one last goodbye with.”

“Me too, sir. Way too many,” Tinetariro replied, her face awash in emotion.

“But we soldier on, remember the fallen, and give the League all it can handle, and then some.”

“Quite right, sir.”

“Very well, Master Chief. I know you’ve got plenty to do; carry on.”

Tinetariro sprang to her feet and brought herself to attention smartly. “Aye aye, sir!” she intoned before turning on her heel and marching out of his office. David was left staring at the open hatch, pondering what happened to Private Waters. Maybe I’m losing it, he considered. Did I ever have it to begin with? Who’s to say exactly what happened in the last few months. Snorting to himself, he pulled up his tablet and began to go through the paperwork of the day.

45

Later that day during the mid-afternoon watch, David walked into the wardroom to find it empty except for Aibek, who was in the middle of eating a hamburger. Cracking a smile, he noted the burger was almost raw; seared on both sides and red in the middle. “I’m not sure you’re complying with CDF food safety regulations, Colonel Aibek.”

Aibek laughed. “We eat most of our meat raw. It’s easier to digest for us.”

David slid into a seat across from him after pouring a cup of piping hot CDF coffee. “There was a rumor going around that Saurians considered live rodents to be a delicacy when you first came on board.”

“Yes, I remember. I helped spread it around and kept a live mouse in my quarters to gross people out,” Aibek replied with a large, toothy grin. “It is so easy to mess with humans.”

David chuckled as he took a sip of his coffee. “I think we’re fascinated by things different from us. Sometimes we can be overwhelmed by them, but on balance, I believe we’re pretty open to new cultures and customs.”

“I’ve certainly found this ship to be accepting of me. I am grateful for it.”

“And I am grateful for the advice and support you’ve given. It’s an honor to serve with you,” David replied with sincerity.

“I still regret that I came to join your crew in the manner in which I did. I sense I would have greatly respected Major Thompson,” Aibek answered, his voice quiet and somber.

“I won’t lie, I still miss her,” David said, his voice suddenly solemn at the thought of his old friend. “But everything happens for a reason. Sometimes it’s hard to believe, but I hold on to it. There has to be a plan… I pray someday it makes sense.”

“Until then, we have to continue. Love one another, lay down our lives for our fellow soldiers and the civilians we protect. You humans sum up one of our core beliefs quite nicely with the phrase ‘do to others as you would have them do to you’.”

David offered a small smile. “Agreed, XO.”

“I was about to turn on the holoprojector when you came in. President Spencer is due to deliver an address to the Alliance.”

David reached over and hit the “on” button for the holoprojector; it snapped on, preset to the Canaan News Network. It appeared that the speech was about to begin, as the usual talking heads were replaced by a live feed from the Oval Office.

“Good timing,” Aibek commented wryly.

The projector shifted to show the entirety of the Oval Office, with Spencer sitting behind a simple yet regal wooden desk. David recognized it as something brought from Earth, hundreds of years prior. Called the Resolute Desk, it had enormous historical significance.

“Citizens of the Terran Coalition, our allies, and freedom-loving people of all species across this galaxy, I come to you tonight with good news,” Spencer began. “Our fleet has returned from Unity Station, intact and victorious. The flag of the Canaan Alliance flies over the instrument of the League’s invasion of our galactic arm. This victory, while mighty, is not without substantial loss and sacrifice. Nineteen thousand, eight hundred and twenty-nine brave men and women made the ultimate sacrifice to secure our victory.

“This war has continued for nearly thirty years. When it started, I doubt anyone in the Terran Coalition thought we would still be fighting this far in. But our freedoms are worth fighting for, and now two generations of citizens have decided that it is preferable to die on our feet than live on our knees. Today, we took a major step forward in the defeat of the League. There will be many more battles to fight, we will suffer many thousands of causalities, and too many of our soldiers will perish so our way of life will not vanish from this galaxy. But make no mistake. This is the price we’ve paid for thirty years and will gladly pay for another thirty years if it’s what is required for us to live in freedom and peace.”

Spencer stared directly into the holoprojector camera that was present in his office. “To Chairman Pallis and the rest of the League’s Social and Public Safety Committee, I have the following statement. We’re ready to discuss your surrender at any time. We will push all the way to Earth and liberate it from your oppression. The League started this war to destroy our way of life; you thought we would collapse in the face of a massive and determined enemy. You were mistaken. Your actions only served to strengthen the bonds of the people who make up our nation. People who love freedom, regardless of how they choose to use it. We love our freedom and our way of life so much… we will do anything that is required to safeguard it. We will fight for it, we will bleed for it, we will sacrifice for it, we will pay any cost and defeat any foe to save our way of life. The League of Sol sowed the wind when it cowardly attacked Canaan twenty-eight years ago and now, Chairman Pallis, you will reap the whirlwind.

“To the citizens of the League of Sol, know we stand with you in your own quest for justice and freedom. The Terran Coalition comes not as a conqueror, but as a liberator. There is no better friend, and no worse enemy, than the Canaan Alliance, as those who have tried to take away our way of life have found throughout the ages. While Earth may be a paradise, albeit a paradise with a secret police force that hauls anyone suspected of remotely thinking the wrong thing in the dead of night, it is built off the backs of people on a hundred different planets, all forced to work for next to nothing to provide for the League. Enforced by the point of a bayonet, the League’s ideology would collapse in a moment, if but a different political party was allowed to run in the sham elections they hold every ten years.

“Today we mark a milestone in our struggle; the beginning of the end of the League of Sol. To our own citizens, who have sacrificed far more than any group of people ever have, for longer than any have, throughout our recorded history, I say this; stay the course. Practically everyone in our great civilization has served in some manner to support our war efforts. Nearly ninety-five percent of all citizens born after the war began who have reached the age of majority have served in our armed forces. All have given something of themselves. Too many have paid the ultimate price. These sacrifices haven’t been made in vain. There stands with us hope that victory will finally be achieved. I believe we stand on the right side of this fight, that we stand with our Creator, and the evil of the League will be vanquished into the dustbin of history. In the eighteen months I have left as your president, I pledge to every citizen of the Terran Coalition I will do everything remotely within my power to win this war, with a minimum of losses. Let there be no mistake, however, the causalities we will see as we commence the invasion of the League will be high. They may well be higher than any we have sustained so far. But again, this is the price we’re willing to pay as a society to ensure our way of life.”

Spencer paused for a moment before he continued. “In closing, I ask every citizen of the Terran Coalition to pray for the safety of our soldiers in harm’s way, far away. I ask you all to keep up the fight and keep hope on the home front. Together, we can accomplish anything we put our minds to. The Terran Coalition’s best days are not behind us; they lie before us as we help to bring in a new era of peace and prosperity after the defeat of the League. May God bless you all, and may God continue to bless the Terran Coalition!”

The projection of the oval office faded away, and the talking heads for Canaan News came into view. Aibek reached up and turned off the projector before they began speaking. “Your leader is inspiring enough to be an honorary Saurian.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment…I think,” David replied with a bit of a smirk.

“It is. President Spencer’s ability to stir the blood and the soul to combat is impressive. I look forward to the day when he is able to toast the defeat of our enemy.”

David’s face took on a thoughtful appearance, and his eyes drifted toward the floor. “I look forward to the day when we beat our swords into plowshares, and this war is finally over.”

“And the nations of the world will know war no more?”

David nodded. “Quite.”

“I have read many of the human holy books by now. The Bible, Torah, Quran, and others.”

“I worry the longer this war goes on, the more likely we are to be fundamentally changed by it,” David said.

“For the worse?”

David nodded. “Yes, absolutely for the worse. The ease at which we lie, deceive, and do anything it takes to win troubles me.”

“That business with the reporter?”

David looked Aibek directly in the eyes. “You were right; we should have found a way to win that didn’t involve lying. On top of it, add in Colonel Demood’s antics on the station… what scares me the most is just for a moment, I was ready to excuse what he did as a cost of doing business until I read he threatened to kill all those civilians. Shooting a Leaguer in the kneecaps after surrender barely fazed me.”

“But you didn’t… that is what counts, right?” Aibek countered.

“Perhaps. We have to constantly guard our hearts and ensure this hatred of all things League doesn’t take root and corrupt us. The battle rages not only externally, but within,” David replied in an earnest tone. “From my perspective, I think the battle within is the most important one of all.”

“Well said, Colonel,” Aibek responded, his face a mask of thoughtfulness.

“I worry… what if my actions with Angie gave Demood the green light in his mind to cross the line? What if I led him astray? It’s vital that I stay within not only the letter but the spirit of the law. Keep me on the straight and narrow, XO. Help me to avoid another bad call. That’s something Sheila always did.”

Aibek smiled, his teeth showing in a way that made some humans shiver. “Gladly. As I would expect you to correct me if I found myself on a path to dishonor.”

“There is a maxim in Judism.. whoever kills a soul, its as if he destroyed the entire universe. Likewise, if you save someone, it is as if you saved everyone,” David said, glancing down. “These questions… about right and wrong, they worry me.”

“On Sauria, it is generally accepted that as long as the battle is honorable, killing is acceptable to achieve victory.”

“I get that, XO. I respect it… but I’m not a Saurian. I’m a Jew, and I try to go through life, following a set of standards and laws. The laws I believe God wants me to obey…wants all of us to obey.”

Aibek’s face turned thoughtful. “You do a good job of it.”

“I’m not so sure of that anymore.”

Aibek reached out and put his scaled hand on David’s shoulder. “There is no dishonor in checking your motives and ensuring you remain noble in spirit and deed.”

“The last few days I’ve had to take stock of how far I’m willing to go. I don’t like what I saw. I could see a path where I end up at the same place at Demood, simply because I kept pushing the rules one more notch. We’re inherently fallible beings. That’s why the rules exist in the first place.”

“No one is good, in other words?”

“Exactly,” David said. “It's imperative we remember it.”

“As I said, I will do my best to keep you grounded, as I believe humans put it. But… we have achieved a great victory. I cannot help but believe God, in some way, smiled on us. Do we make different decisions as we go forward? Yes. But now is not the time to second guess this great victory. I believe you made the best decisions you could, even when at times I did not agree. I get to have that luxury; sometimes when as you say, it is for all the marbles, the person at the top has to make uncomfortable compromises. Regardless of this, I believe we will win with honor, and I am glad I can make a difference serving at your side.”

David smiled, allowing the large Saurian’s positive outlook to infect him. Who knows what’s next? Perhaps only God. He was resolute they could handle whatever came up, because the team that made up the officers and crew of the Lion of Judah was greater than the sum of its parts. Tomorrow will be another day, and I will face that day as I have every other day. He recalled the words of a psalm. “This is the day that the Lord has made, let us rejoice and be glad in it.”

Echoes of War: Book 4 – Gates of Hell: Turn the page for an exciting sneak peak at the next Echoes of War novel!

Echoes of War Book Four - Gates of Hell: Sneak Peak

This cockpit is barely larger than a shuttle. Ruth was strapped in and staring out the transparent alloy “window” toward the stars. They’d come out of Lawrence drive a few hours earlier and were moving at sub-light speed toward Freiderwelt.

“Ever rode an assault lander down before, LT?” MacDonald asked from his seat next to the pilot.

“Can’t say I have, Master Chief. I’ve taken shuttles more times than I can count, but never a combat insertion.”

MacDonald turned around in his seat and grinned widely. “There’s nothing else like it in the universe. Gets your blood moving.”

“I’ll try not to scream like a little girl,” Ruth replied. Maybe some self-deprecating humor will help avoid another round of cake eater insults.

“That’s the spirit!” MacDonald replied between laughs.

“Master Chief, we’re coming up on the planet,” the pilot interjected.

“Got it, Warrant,” MacDonald said. “Engage maximum stealth protocol.”

The lights dimmed in the cockpit, and Ruth heard the heating unit shut off. “Is it going to get too cold in here?” she asked.

“Not in the time it takes us to deorbit and deploy. Head on back to the cargo area and start suiting up,” MacDonald instructed.

“Got it, Master Chief,” Ruth replied as she popped her shoulder straps off and stood up, thankful that as small as the little ship was, it had artificial gravity. A few steps down a short passageway, she arrived in what could be called the cargo area and deployment bay. The rest of the commandos were present and had already started putting on their modified power armor.

“Hey, LT!” Meissner called out, still wearing his trademark wide grin. “Need some help putting your armor on?”

“Won’t turn it down, Meissner,” Ruth answered. She walked to one of the powered suits sitting on the deck; given its smaller size, she assumed it was hers. “How is this different from standard TCMC power armor?”

“Seventy percent lighter, just as effective, and tight integration into comms and ISR,” Meissner replied.

“ISR?” Ruth asked as she squatted down to pick up the torso piece of the suit and lift it over her head. She stopped, seeing a sticker that had a cartoon drawing of a three-layer cake on the front of the panel. “Seriously, guys?”

Most of the commandos, excepting Ahmad, laughed uproariously. Ruth’s face turned red, and she started trying to rip the sticker off, only succeeding in tearing it.

Rostami leaned over as he finished putting on his gloves. “LT, word of advice. Never show emotion at being hazed. It’s like blood in the water to the sharks, got it?”

Ruth nodded and continued her efforts to tear the offending paper off; she finally succeeded and threw the suit over her head, pulling it down and checking for fit. “You got my size,” she deadpanned, trying to move on.

“Next you’ll want to sit down and put the leg portion on, and then we’ll help you with the arms,” Meissner offered.

“Thank you,” Ruth replied and followed his instruction, scooting the leg portion of the armor on and sealing it into place with the torso piece. “I’ve worn space suits before that were akin to power armor. This stuff is a lot lighter,” she commented.

“Tier-one always gets the best gear,” Mata interjected. “I’ve got optics in my rifle most can only dream about.”

“Tier-one, baby!” Harrell shouted. “Always ready! Always deadly! Always there!”

Ruth fought down the desire not to roll her eyes. This is like something out of one of those ludicrous action holomovies. The ones that always get what life is really like in the fleet and on the ground wrong.

Meissner picked up the right arm piece. “If you’d hold out your right arm, LT?”

After Ruth compiled, he fitted the piece in and ensured a tight seal. After repeating the process on her left arm, the suit was in place. “I’d stand up and walk around if were you, LT. Get used to it before we jump out the back.”

“Good advice. Thanks, Meissner,” Ruth said as she stood up, taking a few steps gingerly, shocked at how easy it was to walk in what appeared to be a heavy armor suit, but in reality, had servos and assists in it that automatically adjusted to her walking gait and made her faster and stronger.

The sudden tight turns the ship made were the first indication something was wrong; Ruth was flung off her feet and narrowly missed hitting her head on one of the padded seats that were used for hard landings.

“Secure yourselves! We’re under fire from the planetary defense grid!” MacDonald’s voice came out of a speaker in the room at a shout.

Ruth tried to get herself up, only to find a powerful hand lifted her suit and helped her into the chair. “There you go, LT,” Ahmad said and handed her the helmet that went with the armor. “Get it on and strap in.”

Ruth just nodded in reply, fumbling around with the helmet for a moment before it locked into place. Whoa, this is neat, she thought as the HUD initialized, automatically linking her into the same tactical network that the commandos shared. It also allowed her to see metrics from the ship, which weren’t right. Multiple missiles appeared to be tracking their craft. How the heck did the League even get a lock on us? This thing is supposed to have the latest in stealth tech. Wishing for a moment she hadn’t looked at the feed, she braced herself as a missile hit the ship.

Time seemed to slow down and almost stop as the muted sound from the explosion roared through the tiny vessel. Ruth held on to her straps as the floor seemed to rush up at her; the rest of the commandos looked like it was merely another day at the office. “New plan!” MacDonald’s voice came over the speaker again. “Brace for impact! We’re going down!”

Ahmad dropped into the seat next to hers. “You’re not properly strapped in, Lieutenant,” he said as he pulled the straps tight enough so she couldn’t move. “The entire point to these harnesses is they keep us from moving and our feet out of contact with the deck. Large reduction in injuries that way.”

Ruth nodded in return. I’m not showing my fear. “This happens often?”

“All the bloody time!” Meissner yelled. “It’s because we use the lowest bidder on building our shit!”

The ship began to rattle uncontrollably; Ruth used the helmet’s interface to look at their relative position to the planet. They were eighty miles up and coming in at a near ballistic trajectory. The pilot appeared to be on track to somehow get them near where they had planned to recon. That’s some real dedication or just crazy amounts of skill.

“Yasue yahminana min alshar,” Ahmad said quietly, causing Ruth to look over. The commando had his head bowed and was holding his hands together.

“I’m not sure what you just said, but amen,” Ruth interjected.

Ahmad laughed. “I asked Jesus to protect us,” he said as the ship rattled once more and the hull made groaning noises, indicating extreme stress. Through her HUD, Ruth saw they were now fifty miles up.

“I think we’re going straight in,” Ruth said, fighting to talk through rising G-forces as the inertial dampening system was overtaxed and at the point of failure.

“Pilot will pull out of the dive before that happens,” Ahmad gasped back. “Done this before, Lieutenant. Don’t worry, we’re not dying today. At least not in this crash.”

That sounded a whole lot like false bravado to me. Ruth closed her eyes and chose not to watch the updated sensor readout as they hurtled toward the ground. For those few moments, she considered her choices and the decisions she had made. God, if You’re up there… if You can hear me, if I even matter to You, she prayed silently. Just help me to get through this and do the right things down here.

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Echoes of War: Book 4 – Gates of Hell: Colonel David Cohen takes on a deadly new challenge - finding a League spy before it’s too late.

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Echoes of War

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Book 7 - Finish the Fight

Breach of Faith

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Book 2 - Breach of Faith

Book 3 - Breach of Duty

Book 4 - Breach of Trust

Acknowledgments

To Dad - thanks for all the many hours of great stories from your time in the Navy. They were a wonderful source of ideas!

Dave - thank you for the mentorship, advice and when needed, directness in helping me improve my writing and this book in particular.

To all those who have helped make a dream that started twenty years ago a reality; thank you for your help, support and encouragement—you know who you are.

I would be remiss if I did not thank the servicemembers of the US military that I have had the honor of working alongside for many years. Thank you for ensuring a society in which I can write the novel I choose to, the way I choose to. Above all, thank you for your service.

Finally, I believe it fitting to thank God for giving me the ability to write this novel and bring this story to life.