by Daniel Gibbs
Ruth couldn’t help but smile in return, and she pumped his hand as hard as she could.
“Not a bad grip for a console jock, LT. Maybe there’s hope for you yet.”
Well, at least he didn’t call me a cake eater. “I guess we’ll see, Meissner.”
“Okay now, if we’re done playing nice, anyone object to us getting down to business?” MacDonald said, his gaze directedly squarely at Ruth.
“None at all, Master Chief,” Ruth replied, matching his stare and refusing to show weakness by averting her eyes.
“Well, thank you, Lieutenant,” MacDonald said in an overly polite manner. He pressed a button on the holoprojector, and it displayed a rotating three-dimensional image of Freiderwelt. It was encircled by blinking red points of light. “The dots represent League planetary defense satellites. As you can see, there’s a lot of them. The inherent problem with these sorts of systems is that the satellites themselves lack the computing power to be autonomous, and almost all of them are controlled from the ground.”
“I could just hack them for you, Master Chief,” Rostami interjected.
“Too bad the exterior surface of the damn things are charged with fifty-thousand volts, so you’d be fried if you tried to spacewalk to one and open it up to perform the hack.”
Rostami shrugged. “I guess they built a better mousetrap.”
“We’ll insert via an assault launder, the smallest in our inventory,” MacDonald continued.
“Are you sure it's stealthy enough?” Ruth asked.
“We wouldn’t be proposing to do it if the tool wasn’t up to the job,” Harrell said before muttering “cake eater” under his breath.
Ruth chose to let the insult pass. “Is there any reliable information as to what sensor capabilities of the defense system are?”
“None beyond typical League specifications,” MacDonald replied. “It’s within our safety parameters.”
Ruth nodded, placated. MacDonald pressed on with his briefing. “Our objective is a mountainous area about a hundred klicks from what was once a city. Drone recon suggests that there’s almost no one left in the cities on this planet. From our insertion point, we have a roughly thirty-kilometer hike to what appears to be the main League military installation on the planet. Intelligence believes that’s where we will find the control center.”
“Can you zoom in on that area, Master Chief?” Ruth asked.
MacDonald grunted and zoomed the holoprojection in. “There.”
“Thank you, Master Chief. During my youth, this was where the Amish lived.”
“What’s an Amish?” Meissner piped up with the same easy grin.
“Amish are a type of Christian. They don’t interact with outsiders much, have no use for technology, money, or the things they consider of the ‘English.’ That’s their word for anything not Amish. We’re talking about people who still use horse and buggy,” Ruth answered. Met by abject stares, she continued, “Horses are draft animals and pull wooden carts behind them to carry people and cargo.”
“I know what a horse is… but seriously, we’re what, seven hundred years removed from that technology? Seriously old school,” MacDonald said.
“Forget old school, Master Chief. It’s ancient history,” Rostami joked.
“So am I, Rostami. Don’t forget it,” MacDonald grumbled in return. “You’re telling me the only people around our landing area are Luddites that hate technology?”
“They don’t hate it, Master Chief. They don’t use it. I remember the Amish farmers we lived around as being incredibly kind human beings that like to keep to themselves. If anything, the fact they’re the only people seemingly left is great news for our op.”
“Our op, not yours, cake eater,” Harrell said bluntly.
“Oh, for the love of all things holy, stow it, Senior Chief,” Ruth snapped.
“Is that an order?” Harrell shot back, stepping away from the table and appearing next to Ruth.
“Yes, it’s an order, Senior Chief,” Ruth replied, glancing up as he towered over her, unflinching and refusing to break eye contact.
“Fine… Lieutenant.”
Harrell walked away, and Ruth turned back to face MacDonald. His gaze moved up and down her body, as if he was sizing her up after the interaction with his second in command. “Shall we continue, Master Chief?”
“These Amish, they don’t have communications equipment?”
“No,” Ruth answered while she shook her head.
“Maybe the LT’s right, a stroke of luck for us. They can’t turn us in if they’re somehow working with the League,” Meissner said lightly.
“I don’t see Christians or people of any faith ever working willingly with the League,” Ahmad said. “I do think it’s a stroke of good fortune, however.”
“We still can’t take any of this for granted, people,” MacDonald said. “We’ll access the situation once we get on the ground. At any rate, once we have eyes on the League installation, Rostami will work his magic and determine if we’re at the right place. As long as we are, we’ll find a way in, work out a plan, and exfil the area. Questions?”
“Why not take out the defenses now?” Ruth questioned.
“Those aren’t my orders, Lieutenant.”
“Point taken, Master Chief.”
No one else had any questions or comments as MacDonald’s eyes flickered to each commando. “Okay, then we’ll insert tomorrow. Get a good night’s rest and be back here at 0800 for final suit up and weapons check. Oh, and, Lieutenant, be here early so we can fit you with proper combat armor and a battle rifle.”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Master Chief,” Ruth replied with a dazzling but ultimately fake smile.
“Glad to hear it. Rest of you, dismissed. Lieutenant, please stay.”
The rest of the team dutifully filed out, leaving Ruth and MacDonald alone. Ruth waited for him to speak.
“Lieutenant, I don’t think your presence on this op is a good idea.”
“Nor does your XO,” Ruth replied. “I was asked to try to help. That’s why I’m here.”
“I have no doubt you’re good at your job, but you’re not trained for what we do.”
“I wasn’t trained to kill Leaguers when I was a teenager either. Still did it.”
“Fair enough. Do not be a liability on this mission. There is no dishonor, nor will anyone here speak ill of you if you tap out now,” MacDonald stated directly.
“I won’t be a liability,” Ruth insisted. “I’ll help you accomplish the mission and free my home.”
“Then I’ll see you tomorrow morning at 0700.”
Ruth nodded and turned to walk away. I hope I’m doing this for the right reasons, she pondered as she cleared the hatch. Otherwise, the Master Chief is right. I could cost more lives than my own.
5
The following day, the Lion jumped close enough to Freiderwelt so the commandos would be within the range of a single Lawrence drive jump.. David had decided to see the team off personally with Captain Singh. While many soldiers milled about the massive central hangar bay working on space superiority fighters, shuttles, and other small craft, the two officers stood off by the assault lander itself.
“What do you feel about their chances?” David asked Rajneesh, almost absentmindedly.
“I believe Alpha team is made up of competent tier-one operators. If anyone can pull off this mission, it’ll be them.”
“I’m uncomfortable with our lack of QRF coverage.”
“You’re not the only one, Colonel. What are we going to be doing again in the meanwhile?”
“Convoy escort duty,” David said with a grimace. “If it’s as hot as command says, though, we’ll at least put some League ships down.”
“Any day we put more tonnage than them away is a good day,” Rajneesh replied.
Not quite. Any day we put six times more tonnage of theirs down than we lose is a good day. Anything else is a loss. He was jolted out of his thoughts by th
e commando team, plus Ruth walking across the hangar deck. I almost don’t recognize her in all that ground pounder gear. The entire group walked up to the two of them and came to attention.
“Master Chief Petty Officer Gordan MacDonald reports as ordered, sir!”
“At ease, Master Chief,” Rajneesh replied.
“Good to see you again, Master Chief,” David said while flashing a smile. “Ready to go help us figure out how to take back Freiderwelt?”
“Commandos were born ready, sir,” MacDonald replied in a cocky tone of voice he’d come to expect from the tier-one operators.
“Well, good luck and Godspeed.”
“Thank you, sir. Okay, let's mount up! And remember,” MacDonald said, pausing for effect before shouting, “If you ain’t spacewalking—You ain’t shit!”
David couldn’t help but laugh as the rest of the commandos shouted “Hoorah!” in unison. They trooped off into the assault lander, leaving Ruth to take up the rear. He leaned over and whispered toward her as she passed, “Good luck, Lieutenant. You’ve got your hands full.”
Ruth smirked and paused. “You have no idea, sir,” she replied, equally quiet.
“You’re going to do fine,” David said. “Now get up there and make me proud. Godspeed.”
“Aye aye, sir!” Ruth answered as she walked off into the lander.
David watched the hatch close, then turned back to Rajneesh. “Well, Captain, I’ll leave you to it. I’m due on the bridge for our check in with the overall sector commander for convoy defense.”
“That sounds lovely, sir,” Rajneesh said, grinning himself. “Have fun.”
“Always, Captain Singh.”
An hour later, David sat on the bridge in the CO’s chair. He couldn’t suppress the nagging feeling something was off; Ruth not being present on the first watch was odd. She hasn’t missed a shift in I can’t remember when. Not even illness keeps that woman away from her post.
“Conn, Navigation. Lawrence drive is charged and ready to engage,” Hammond announced.
“Acknowledge, Navigation,” David said. With the commandos deployed, his next task was to get in position at the convoy staging area in deep space. “XO, readiness of the ship?”
“All systems show green, sir,” Aibek replied.
David leaned forward. “Navigation, engage Lawrence drive.”
“Aye, sir!” Hammond answered and triggered the jump. The lights on the bridge dimmed, and an artificial wormhole opened in front of the Lion of Judah. Its portal through the stars, the ship’s sub-light engines engaged, and it flew through the gaping maw that displayed a rainbow of colors. Moments later, the transit was complete, and for several seconds, all sensor data was lost, a side effect of the jump.
“Conn, TAO. LIDAR online, no hostile contacts,” Second Lieutenant Victoria Kelsey called out in a sing-song Australian accent. She was the second watch tactical action officer and came with Ruth’s highest recommendation. A recent transfer to the Lion, David hadn’t interacted with her that often.
“Acknowledged, TAO. Populate the board with all contacts,” David ordered.
“Aye aye, sir!” Victoria replied promptly.
David turned around in his chair, staring at the large holoprojector in the well aft of his and Aibek’s seating. Dozens of blue icons indicating friendly ships snapped on; most were merchant ships. Taylor’s voice snapped his attention back to the front of the bridge. “Conn, communications. I’ve got Colonel Dyson for you on vidlink, sir.”
“Put him through to my viewer, Lieutenant.”
Dyson’s face appeared above David on his personal viewer; the older officer’s face was creased with a few too many frown lines and dark circles under his eyes. His brown hair had streaks of gray in it. The ravages of stress on the human body. That’s going to be me soon. Still, he smiled. “Greetings, Colonel Dyson. Good to see you again.”
“I’ll not lie, Colonel Cohen, your performance in our last combat together was outstanding. I never got the chance to thank you for saving my ship.”
“All part of the service,” David replied. “You’d do the same for me.”
“Amen to that. I have to admit, I was amazed command sent the Lion of Judah out here to run convoy escort duty.”
David smiled tightly. “My crew and I are simply looking to make sure our cargo ships get to resupply Unity and the fleet out there, while putting the hurt on our friends from the League.”
“You’ll get your chance, Colonel. I had an entire squadron of destroyers—twelve of them—when we started this escort rotation. We’re down three, and I’ve lost four frigates. There’re just not enough ships to go around to protect all these merchant vessels. You got any escorts with you?”
“Negative, Colonel. The Lion plus her two hundred combat spacecraft are all you get.”
Dyson frowned. “I was hoping we’d rate some additional reinforcements.”
“Fleet is thin after the battle to take Unity. That, and we’re trying to marshal our forces as best as we can to invade Earth.”
“I know… but it won’t mean anything if we can’t keep supplies flowing.”
“Professionals deal with logistics,” David said offhandedly. “Something my dad used to say.”
“Oh, that’s an old saw,” Dyson replied. “But yes. I’ll get you plugged into my command net and assign you a patrol route. There are three primary jump points we utilize, unless you object, I’ll have the Lion cover one by itself.”
“No issues at all, unless you’ve seen battleship strength forces.”
“We usually get a Rand class cruiser, escorted by Cobra class destroyers, and sometimes they send Lancer-class frigates in. You know how hard it is to defeat a Rand with just a destroyer group.”
David thought briefly to his engagement with a Rand—the victory that put him in command of the Lion—and nodded. “I do, indeed.”
“Anything else you need from me, Colonel Cohen?”
“I’d ask you send over the sensor records of your engagements so we can look for any obvious patterns and load the signatures of the ships you’ve been facing into our tactical computer.”
“I’ll have them sent over. Not sure what you’d find, but feel free to crunch it one more time.”
“Thanks,” David replied.
“I’ll have your mission outline by 1800 CMT today, Colonel. Dyson out.”
“Cohen out.”
Aibek peered at David intently. “Interesting. I would think the Terran Coalition could spare more ships for such an important task.”
“As I told Dyson, there’s so much else going on right now, this problem hasn’t hit critical mass for command yet.”
Aibek let out a sigh. “What is your plan?”
“Destroy enough League ships so they stop attacking our convoys due to an unfavorable rate of exchange,” David replied with a broad smile.
“That sounds easier said than done, as you humans say.”
“Exactly, XO, exactly,” David said and settled back into his chair. If nothing else, this is going to be an exciting combat evolution.
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.