Strong and Courageous

by Daniel Gibbs

  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 w
e 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 He
brew, 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.”